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(Fictional Short Story) Prometheus Pyrkaeus
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Enya Sparhawk

Black Tea and Talons

Likes received: 80

#1 - 2015-04-02 01:30:14 UTC

Phewww... This one took a while to put down on paper. As a writer, it was my first stab at a tragedy. I think it turned out alright (though to be honest, I'm not really here or there about it). All in all, it was a pretty good exercise...

Enjoy!!

Prometheus Pyrkaeus (the Fire Kindler)

---

“Any technological advance can be dangerous. Fire was dangerous from the start, and so (even more so) was speech - and both are still dangerous to this day - but human beings would not be human without them.”

- Isaac Asimov:

---

Out of every one hundred men, ten shouldn't even be there, eighty are just targets, nine are the real fighters, and we are lucky to have them, for they make the battle. Ah, but the one, one is a warrior, and he will bring the others back. (Heraclitus)
ALARM. Isolated among the quiet darkness of Black Rise space, the metal alloy decks of a lone Gallente ship quickly come alive with the reverberated sounds of warning sirens and urgent boot falls. The piercing chorus of the pulsating medical alerts indiscriminatingly echo throughout the refitted cargo hold of the all black Lachesis class ship, awakening a flurry of Black Eagles from their patient watch into responsive action. Nestled among the combat crew of the 'Aquila Pyrphoros' are these further specialized technicians and science officers responsible for the behind the scenes care and maintenance of the technology responsible for 'shading' during such intricate covert operations; a life monitor flashes a dangerous hue of crimson red indicating the stress and imminent failure to the neurological activity of the occupant in the one active re-engineered hydrostatic capsule secured within the hold. Preliminary data indicates that the primary safeguards to the virtual sensation devices working in perfect tandem to the command functions of the pod have all failed to activate; to the puzzled scientific observer, his mind should have been disconnected from the host body once the self-destruct was initiated by the 'shade' clone's implant. Further analysis reveals that each of the other two secondary safeguards were then routinely enacted; as per security and elimination protocol dictated: the host body was then being nano-disintergrated in order to destroy or lessen any evidence of possible infiltration. Yet for some still unknown reason, something unforeseen had interrupted the reawakening procedure of the man encased within this egg-shaped tomb. Holding onto the rank of Strike Commander, he had become an agent of the Special Department of Internal Investigations and Federal Security for the good and prosperity of the Federation; a brilliant man born with a patriotic fighting spirit and an unending sense of duty. An unfortunate loss for all those present watching helplessly as his body' s vital signs were slowly and erratically deteriorating before their eyes; though his spirit was strong, his flesh was dying due to cardiac failure as a result of the neurological distresses brought about by the apparent failure of the mission.
"Sir. We are having difficulty with agent Desmonte's reawakening process. His 'shade' is disintegrating but his consciousness is still engaged with the virtual sensation device. We can't seem to disconnect him. There must have been some sort of malfunction with the clone body's cerebral implant. Nothing we've tried has worked. He's dying in there."
"Can we manually extract him from the device?" furiously asks the First Officer in command.
"Negative Sir. Tertiary safeguards have locked down the pod. We have no way of getting him out. I'm afraid that if we don't do something soon, we may lose him."
ALERT. The final warning sound quickly becomes a single unending flat line tone.
"BREACH THE POD!! BREACH THE POD!!" yells out the First Officer, quickly recalling the original still functioning purpose of any hydrostatic capsule; a breach would set off an immediate activation of the transneural burning scanner. At the offset of the Officer's hurried and desperate command, one of the nearby technical crew quickly reaches for his Gistii-10 sidearm and begins firing round after plasma round into the outer shielding of the second-generation prototype hydrostatic capsule, trying desperately to crack the outer armor casing in order to facilitate the clone reanimation process for the nearly lifeless man contained inside.

---

"We rest; A dream has power to poison sleep.
We rise; One wandering thought pollutes the day.
We feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep,
Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away;
It is the same: for, be it joy or sorrow,
The path of departure still is free.
Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow;
Nought may endure but mutability!”

- Mary Shelley:

---

Another productive work day ends in the sprawling megalopolis of Caille with the setting of the Luminaire star shining the last of its daily dying light over the western skies on the planet of Gallente Prime. With the weight of its fading light falling heavily on the exhausted shoulders of a multitude of tired workers, every one of them with a renewed vigour make their separate ways to a place that they call home; whether it is to awaiting families or towards other seductive vices, on a world of such abundant diversity no two are exactly alike.

Fíorghrá: Grá na fírinne

Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

Bíonn súil le muir ach ní bhíonn súil le tír.

Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir.

When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...

Enya Sparhawk

Black Tea and Talons

Likes received: 80

#2 - 2015-04-02 01:31:30 UTC

'Saints of Nouvelle Rouvenor Military Hospital'

Over the course of the last week, the distance covered by his slower paced walk had always given the Admiral a little more time to think clearly; time desperately needed to mentally prepare the words of a one sided conversation Augustus would have with his only comatose daughter. Upon receiving word of Andora's untimely yet mysterious 'accident', Admiral Lyomens with the full force of his authority and rank, had his only daughter Andora Lyomens transferred to a private room in this hospital. For her, he had willing given up his prestigious command over the Titans of space so that he could keep a more personal vigilant watch over her now frail and unmoving body. The near loss of Andora had unleashed something buried within him; painful memories of a younger man, slowly watching his loving wife agonizingly succumb to an unusual terminal illness all those long years ago. As a way to cope with the relentless assault of helplessness he opted to bury his emotions deep within himself, never once dealing with them directly and then fully immersing himself into his naval career for the years to come. The unfortunate outcome of his previous inaction had thus estranged him from their only child, creating a widening chasm between them; a distance growing ever deeper as she aged from an adolescent into adulthood. Paralyzed by grief, Augustus had never taken into account how the loss of her mother would have affected her; they had never talked about it afterwards nor shared any sort of sentiment. For him, his beloved wife was just gone and from there duty took over. It was the eventual sting of remembering these few regrets from the past that would not now allow him to lose her as well. Even though these bottled up emotions had become fragmented and altogether foreign to this once stern and serious man, the stopper had been released and the jar shattered. All that he had left of his family in this world was his only daughter Andora; in desperation he clung to a tiny fleeting spark of hope that she would eventually awaken from her unending sleep.
The sullen meditative walk to the hospital was always too brief and in no time he arrives at his destination. The clear air of the night has now fully claimed the day. With a slight sigh silhouetting slumped shoulders, he enters the building. A sickening darkness has spread across his heart and mind as if they were shadows pulled inside from the artificially illuminated streets outdoors; the permeating smell of antiseptic chemicals fills his lungs. Blame. Guilt. Unseen fears and sorrows stalk this once proud man as he then exits the maglifts upon reaching her floor, walking the measured distance of the sterilized halls to her room. The constant nagging guilt for the mistakes he made in raising her wracks his conscience the closer he gets to the prone form held within the cold off white walls.
Following in the Admiral's footsteps, Lieutenant Andora Lyomens had chosen the soldier's path, enlisting in the Federation Navy when she reached the age of enlistment. Using an alias to enroll, she had wanted to make a new name for herself thereby accomplishing something to make her father finally proud of the woman she had become; though deep down all that she really wanted was his attention and affection. As the years of naval service passed, an opportunity finally presented itself for her to prove her 'worth'. Lieutenant Lyomens had known in her heart that this would be her one chance. Unbeknownst to her protective and ever watchful father, she had joined the Federal Intelligence Office; it was her use of an alias that had ultimately piqued the organization's attention.
Pulling in the closest cushioned chair to her hospital bed, he takes his accustomed daily seat. Augustus Lyomens removes his cap, placing it gently on the nightstand for fear of disturbing the sleeping patient. Slowly brushing his right hand through his shortly cropped hair pausing slightly to scratch at the back of his head, he then leans his body in closer for a more intimate dialogue with his daughter. As a loving father, he lays a gentle reassuring kiss onto her forehead. With his other free hand he cradles one of hers into his own, placing both close to his own heart he begins speaking with her in a hushed gentle tone over the background noises of her life-support devices.
"Andora sweety-- It's Daddy. I'm here for you darling.--"

---

Fíorghrá: Grá na fírinne

Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

Bíonn súil le muir ach ní bhíonn súil le tír.

Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir.

When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...

Enya Sparhawk

Black Tea and Talons

Likes received: 80

#3 - 2015-04-02 01:32:45 UTC

"According to the first, he was clamped to a rock in the Caucasus for betraying the secrets of the gods to men, and the gods sent eagles to feed on his liver, which was perpetually renewed."

---

The rising sun dawns over the eastern skies on the island of Huermont; luminous tendrils of light and warmth fly in through the open window carved from out of the mountain rock, gently caressing the face of and awakening the imprisoned man to the mysterious waiting visitor in the still shadows of his prison cell. Embedded deep into the upper side of the mountain range, overlooking a panoramic view of the megalopolis and harbour, is the secret heavily fortified eyrie belonging to an elite divisional unit of the Federation organization known as the SDII. Under the command of a man known only as 'Epophian' this specialized unit of Black Eagles' sole purpose is for the infiltration and acquisition of unique assets and information unobtainable by any other branch of Federal Intelligence and the full details of its very existence is known only by a handful of the most powerful people in the entirety of the Gallente Federation space. Here, contained within this intricate maze of tunnels and stone carved bunkers all hewn from the 'Hollow Mountain' are the foundations for a technology known colloquially by its denizens as 'shading'. To the redacted spending budgets of the Federation Senate, it goes only by the name 'The Prometheus Program'; created through the use of the Gallente Executive Order 81042, the Prometheus Program was a unique adaptation to the 'Final Soldier' program commandeered from the Duvolle laboratories, incorporating a newly redefined process of neural scanning and mapping with state of the art virtual sensation and hydrostatic capsule technologies. Without limitations or hesitations, reverse engineered neuro-implant slave technologies stolen from the Sansha Nation were then combined with those of Duvolles Laboratories' extensive gained knowledge base of the human cloning process; from fire and clay, the 'shade' was given life.
Perched upon his chair, an attentive Eagle has eagerly awaited for the rising of the sun, forcing open the eyes of its prey for the start of another day of inquisition. Chained by each of his wrists to the stones of the Hueromont, is the freshly cloned former agent and Strike Commander, Aeschylus Desmontes. It has only been a few days of confusion and confinement since his reawakening into this new clone body; the prisoner easily recognizes the man who was now sitting patiently in front of him. Epophian only grins at the cruel morning recognition. The manacled marionette stirs slightly, trying to shift his weight away from the stiffness in his arms; a human sundial cruelly pointing to ten and two. Exhaustion finally forces the standing body to shut down every night in order for it to regenerate the cells within and ultimately eases the workings of the daily mind; the simple need for sleep was a normal biological function in every human, regardless of how comfortable they may or may not be. The solitary window was no more than a square hole cut out of the rock face exposing the room to the elements beyond; calculated to catch the first light in the exact same spot every day. The remainder of the damp stone cell was minimal in its dimensions with only a bolted automated door to keep the coldness in; a minimalistic concept sparse even down to the paint, rather 'Caldari' as the younger Gallente generation might have call it. All except for the one chair and the man securely fastened in fetters to the chiseled stone wall.
The terms defining Aeschylus Desmontes' punishment were simple: time would be the only weight pressing down upon him. It would either crush him or be his salvation. No other hurt or pain would ever be required of him in order to obtain the answers that Epophian needed. Just time enough for the prisoner to think about the incompletion of his duties and the reckless, irresponsible behaviour regarding his last mission. Left alone and isolated high atop the world with only the constant thoughts of remorse and failure to keep him company.
"Poor, poor Aeschylus--" muses out loud the senior officer known by his subordinates as the 'Overlooker of All' "What a complete and utter mess of things you have created for me." From an inside pocket of his jacket he removes a small metal flask, first noisily sloshing around the insides of the container in his hand before finally offering up a sample of the liquid contents for the parched lips of his prisoner.
Shaking his head weakly in refusal, agent Desmontes dryly responds, "What's this?? Are you trying to poison me now?"
"Suit yourself." he quips back before taking a long pull from the now uncapped liquid. Satisfied, he wipes his mouth with the back of the hand still holding onto the flask, savouring the sweet aroma finish of the drink. "Come now my boy. If I truly wanted to poison you, I certainly wouldn't do it with Firwa." continuing on with a chuckle, "Eh? What good would it be to destroy your liver? I mean, I could and then just have a new one fully grown and surgically implanted into your body by the next morning if I really wanted to. But seriously, what good would it do me? Knowing you, it still wouldn't get me the information that I needed. Besides, do you know how expensive this stuff is?" he asks, shaking the contents of the flask once again in front of the prisoner's eyes, “Assuming that is, that I ever needed to pay for it in the first place. Or have you forgotten that you weren't the only one working for us."

Fíorghrá: Grá na fírinne

Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

Bíonn súil le muir ach ní bhíonn súil le tír.

Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir.

When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...

Enya Sparhawk

Black Tea and Talons

Likes received: 80

#4 - 2015-04-02 01:33:47 UTC

Never in his life was Aeschylus ever undeterred by idle threats. Strike Commander Desmontes retaliates, "Then just be done with it already. I don't know why I'm here. I've only ever done my duty for the Federation. And I'll always gladly give my life for its principles--"
Hearing these last few spoken words strikes an unsettled nerve in Epophian causing him to seethe with a renewed anger; suppressing the instinct to lash out he continues on with his interrogation of agent Desmontes. Leaving his seat, he moves in towards his prisoner for a more face to face continuation of their conversation, if only to better judge the defiant look in those tired eyes with his own. "OH?? You don't know why you are here? Well then, let me enlighten you." he adds with a bit of sarcasm in his voice. "We have just recently lost two of our best agents all because of YOU, you and your carelessness. Do you think that I am stupid? That I wouldn't go over the virtual recordings from your last mission, or even see with my own eyes the mistakes that you have made? You had completed all of your primary goals on this mission, so why did you stay longer than you had to? Why did you intentionally put yourself in harm's way? Not only do we not have that drone operative from the Black Rise medical facility in our possession but we have now lost two more of our agents from their duties on New Caldari Prime. That means that the Caldari's have found a way to circumvent our technology and any element of secrecy and surprise that has kept us in business has been completely removed. We are now exposed, not only to the other Empires but possibly to the eyes of our own government as well. Your actions have put this entire program at risk. The acquisition of Dr. Emmerson's transneural brain scan was your only priority on this mission."
Pausing a moment to assimilate this new information, Aeschylus' only response was, "I only failed because it was my fate to fail."
"NO!!! You failed because of your arrogance and your wounded pride!!"

---

As befitting any officer of the Federation Navy, though tired and battle worn, the habits of an unerring dedication compels that man to take his usual early evening watch by a hospital bedside. The peoples of the Gallente Federation as a whole rarely if ever unify behind a single purpose; unlimited diversity has created only a nation of individuals, each seeking their own personal liberties. With very little tying one Gallente citizen to another, those who devote their loyalties to the cause of the Navy do so with their very lives and sometimes even with the lives of their own families. Duty is the heavy price paid for the underlining principles of freedom, equality and justice in the Federation. Doing 'one's duty' replaces an empty void in the human soul and is the only tie that unites all individuals in such a diverse empire.
The last sparkle of the light rays from the waning daytime sun slowly ripples and trickle in through the open window; lithe and free, almost as if they were being carried in on the gentle breeze of wind and stirring traffic noise. A sudden rush of hours signals yet another finished workday cycle, finding Admiral Augustus Lyomens once again lost amidst the realm of waking dreams. Without age or demeanor, he mirrors the somber paralytic form of the younger woman lying beside him, wondering what this world has become to his ever prone daughter; her body is whole and intact but her mind has become shattered, leaving her perpetually lost within this state. Through the exhaustion and a few lucid tears, the sight of her laying like this flood his mind with remembrances of this once tiny child asleep in her own bedroom. On that one particular day his new orders had come in; eventually the years of service would take him away from the one's he loved and the creation of more heartfelt memories like this one. Even a solitary life is in need of such experiences to keep a heart strong. Over the slow but repetitive sounds of the life support machines, Augustus recalls hearing her mother off at work in their kitchen preparing some sort of surprise for his long days away from home. The sweet enticing smells of freshly baked goods floods back to his senses; as a gift for her father, Andora had crafted and painted a small, earthenware clay jar during her elementary school's instruction in the creative arts, inscribed with only the words 'For Daddy'. It had taken her nearly a week of loving vigilance to create, outshining all her fellow pupils in the task. Doing her part for the service, her mother was just now filling it with delicious treats for him to take along; a token so that he would not forget them because a part of them would always be right there with him. Being completely awash in the moments of this happier haze of memory keeps him oblivious to everything entering his senses from the world outside of this one sterilized room. The sounds. The smells. His eyes only see the gentle child asleep before him, sighing so peacefully in her mechanically measured respirations of a seemingly eternal slumber. The doctors do not think she will ever recover from her condition; the other one from the 'mission' had already been disconnected from his life-support during the previous week and the family was then allowed a proper military burial. Duty to a cause will make a man stubborn at times, spurring them on to continue fighting a war that will have no decisive end or no favourable outcome. An adept officer instinctively knows when there are times when a battle just can't be won.

Fíorghrá: Grá na fírinne

Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

Bíonn súil le muir ach ní bhíonn súil le tír.

Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir.

When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...

Enya Sparhawk

Black Tea and Talons

Likes received: 80

#5 - 2015-04-02 01:35:22 UTC

Ahem. A soft clearing of the throat announces the stranger's presence. "I'm sorry to disturb you Admiral Lyomens. I can come back at another time... that is, if you wish to be alone. I only wanted to check in with you." humbly offers the Intaki female who was standing ever so shyly within the borders of the open doorway. "You had left the office a bit early today Sir."
Augustus plants a gently kiss onto Andora's hand, holding it close to the warmth of his own moistened cheek hoping that some sort of tactile sensation will register with her. Quickly regaining his military composure, he responds to his guest, "It’s alright Lieutenant Keshman, please come in." Without turning around, he easily recognizes the voice of this longtime staffer, an 'Aide de Camp' from his office. Lieutenant Ilaina Keshman has personally served under the Admiral for many loyal years and he would find no one else that he trusts more in this life, or even in the next as the Lieutenant would often joke with him; in the eyes of Augustus Lyomens, she had seen a good and honourable man, perhaps reminiscent of one that she had even served before in a previous life. "What is it that I can do for you Lieutenant?" he asks still remembering how bound he was to his duty to the Federation.
"Uh, yes Sir. I only wanted to see if I could do anything for you. I was--um, worried about you-- or more importantly I was worried about your health Sir. You haven't been sleeping much lately. When you had left early..." the caring younger officer stammers to her superior rather timidly. She had also known the woman lying in the hospital bed and through her duty to the Federation Navy had grown rather close to the family over the long years of service to her father.
"Eh? Do I look so bad Ilaina?" the superior officer questions in rebuttal with a more informal tone to it than his last. "I suppose I should sleep more." Offering these last few words more to himself, he adds in, “If I could." Turning his head at last towards the entrance, he silently beckons her into the room once more. "You know Ilaina, she always thought of you as an older sister. I don't think that she would mind that you were here-- You’ve probably been there for her more times in her life than I ever was."
"I'm sure she understood the sacrifices you had to make for the good of all Federation citizens. The burdens you had to bear on your shoulders in order for freedom and justice to reign." Lieutenant Keshman offers, reassuring the man before her of the positive choices that he made in his life. "She had often mentioned how proud she was of you." The appearance of the man before her lightens a bit at these last words, as if something pressing down on him had been eased, if only slightly.
"After her mother died--” He starts before shaking his head, trying desperately to dispel a notion. Staring into his assistants eyes with a bit more focus, he continues with a more hushed serious tone, "I need you to do something for me. This will be strictly off the record and I cannot order you to do this Lieutenant." Absently checking over her shoulder towards the empty doorway, he once again continues, "I want you to find out all that you can about what she was involved in before her accident. I need to know what made her like this. Be careful. Something just doesn't feel right about any of this. The explanation the FIO gave regarding the cause... None of it makes any sense. You're the only one I trust to handle this Ilaina, and I don't suspect that we will be able to trust anyone else. Report anything you find to me and me alone. Use my security credentials for any information you may need to access. Secrecy in this matter is our only ally. Can I trust you with this task Lieutenant?"
"Sir. Yes Sir. Trust in my skills. Maybe now you can finally get a little more sleep." At this last part she offers a warming smile.
She leaves as swiftly and as quietly as she had entered. Turning his full attention once again back to his daughter, Augustus takes her hand, whispering to her what was in his heart, "I put my duty to the Navy before you. I always have. I do see that now. For this Andora I am truly sorry. I know it will not bring you back. You need to understand, it was easier for me to deal with what happened... Watching your mother suffer like that... I felt so helpless... There was absolutely nothing I could do to help her. My duty offered me an enemy on the battlefield that I could face down and even defeat-- And when she had finally died, it then offered me a way to forget the pain... But somehow, I had forgotten you along the way--"
"I won't let them get away with this." he solemnly promises to her. Time feels the heaviest on one's shoulders when there is so little of it left; bearing all that is within one's soul, a lonely man confesses what he now sees as his only weakness. He had forsaken his only family. With remorseful words seeking absolution for the indiscretions of his past, he leaves nothing unsaid. Once, the Admiral had inconsiderately thrown away the constructed clay jar that his only daughter had given him so many years ago; it had broken into many pieces during one of the many hostile engagements he had faced and was therefore, of no more use to him.

---

Fíorghrá: Grá na fírinne

Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

Bíonn súil le muir ach ní bhíonn súil le tír.

Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir.

When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...

Enya Sparhawk

Black Tea and Talons

Likes received: 80

#6 - 2015-04-02 01:36:14 UTC | Edited by: Enya Sparhawk

"According to the second, Prometheus, goaded by the pain of the tearing beaks, pressed himself deeper and deeper into the rock until he became one with it."

---

Heavy eyelids numbed by the flurry of passing days, open once again to the burning illumination of dawn's early light. Through the brightened pain and the edged smart of the sore chaffed cuff, eyes discern a figure embedded in the deep shadows of the stone room, sitting and watching. Realization does not bring any recognition to the bewildered man as the coolness of the morning air echoes from the damp stone, chilling down his spine. Here, technician Eric Lyndon awakens to a mystery and the odd yet somehow familiar surroundings leaves him with a foreboding of only ill fortune; bound both in hand and mind to the stonework behind his head. Where was he? What has happened to him? As the new light creeps across the barren stone floor, a terror begins to take hold over him as the patient figure begins to stir amidst the diffraction of morning light; keen eyes piercing with a single minded tenacity, tear into the captive rending away the flesh and bone to once again satiate it's appetite on the tortured body of Aeschylus Desmontes and the secrets of his guilt.
"Ah Desmontes... You're finally awake I see." The shadowy figure says rather sarcastically to the shackled man, adding in some faux concern about his condition. "How is your will this morning? Broken yet? Surely you must be getting tired of these chains? Fear not my friend; today it seems might be your lucky day. I have some rather interesting news for you. It would appear that our little rogue AIMED drone has finally turned up. Apparently, it wasn't destroyed in the transport explosion as we had previously thought and the foolish thing has taken it upon itself to start attacking innocent children in the wilds of Caldari Prime. What do you think about that?" Pausing, the mysterious unmoving man seated before him offers up this final query then waits for a response; his only other action was the turning of his steely gaze over and over upon this distant quarry.
Through thin parched lips, the fragile prisoner gives back a weak and unexpected answer. "Where am I? Why am I being held here against my will?"
"Come now Aeschylus. I really don't have time to play these sorts of games with you." Answering partly in confusion but mostly in annoyance, the man known as 'Epophian' continues to recant the remainder of this bit of 'good news' to his captive audience. "Believe it or not, you are only my first stop in a long line today and so unfortunately our quality time together needs to be cut short. Time which I'm sure you will agree that would be better spent in the process of actively searching for the answer to all of your mistakes. A redeeming grace, if you will. Fortunately for you, our brethren in the Federal Intelligence Office has intercepted all word of the drone's sudden appearance on Caldari Prime before those blasted mercenaries from Mordu's Legion have realized what was even on the ground. As you already know since the cessation of hostilities, Caldari Prime is now overrun with those treacherous 'guns for hire'... they seem to be able to cover a lot of ground very quickly and also very efficiently. Though for the most part they seem to be too busy keeping agitated citizens in line in order to be effective enough to actively search for something in the wilds. Luckily for us it doesn't appear that they know what sort of information that little drone contains or its inherent value to any of the Empires. Only that it has gone rogue and has attacked a child. Meaning... uh well, I guess it’s not a priority to them. They aren't really concerned about where the drone originally came from by my assessment. It took a bit of wrangling on my part and I had to call in a few well-placed favours but I've had the details of the lost child delayed by the Gallente news agencies for the time being, but as you can well imagine, that will not hold those vultures off of the scent for long. There is a chance, albeit a small one, that we can still salvage your mission. It will not, to my dismay, bring back those we have lost--- It will however, if we recover that data, give us a bit of leverage should the need ever arise. Yet before I see fit to release you from this cell there is just one question for me that still remains. What exactly does this person 'Rowan Deckerson' mean to you?"
Somehow, the sounding of this one man's name brings about a violent and frenzied reaction in the shackled creature firmly attached to the rock. Straining outward with his full weight against the chains, a crazed defiant man lashes out at his captor with every ounce of vehemence at his disposal, "I don't know who this Aeschylus person is that you keep referring to. My name is Eric... Eric Lyndon and I am a citizen of Caldari State. I don't know anything about your missing AIMED unit... I'm only a certified medical technician...." Finding a centering calm and serenity in the rigid coolness of the stone wall resting behind him, he pulls himself into it drawing strength from the chains and then continues to plead his case from the fury of his storming bewildered mind, "I have used them in the past to diagnose and treat those under my watchful care and I can even make minor repairs to them when it is needed. Nothing more. I can't help you with your situation. I cannot be of any use to you, so you have no right to detain me like this--"

Fíorghrá: Grá na fírinne

Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

Bíonn súil le muir ach ní bhíonn súil le tír.

Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir.

When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...

Enya Sparhawk

Black Tea and Talons

Likes received: 80

#7 - 2015-04-02 01:37:01 UTC

"What sort of ruse is this?" pondered out the Eagle, softly spoken to himself more in disbelief than any sort of rhetorically sense, but he was definitely stunned by the emotional outburst of his friend and comrade. Had he truly broken more than his will? No. This was Aeschylus Desmontes and it was his genius alone that had allowed them to refine this technology in order for them to properly utilize it. He was their best. He had accomplished what no other man possibly could. Yet something was definitely not right about any of this. "Unless--"
His eyes widen in shock at the sudden inspired realization of what might have gone awry. Aeschylus Desmontes was still connected to the virtual sensation device and to a lesser extent, all of the memories of his 'shade' when the decision had been made to breach his hydrostatic capsule and initialize the reawakening process. Absorbing this last thought fully and without even a further word to the man chained to the wall, he stands up and leaves the cell with only the raspy pleading echo of an angry desperate voice chasing after him...
"YOU CAN'T HOLD ME LIKE THIS!!!---"

---

Shallow eyes reddened and strained by the lack of sleep once again survive through the rigours of another dying day. The breaks in his mental acuity easily reveal to the passive observer the weariness in the existence of a man slowly falling to pieces. Most pedestrians with concerned stares carefully move aside and just let him shuffle past. His laboured feet keeps a walking pace with his tired soul as the facial stubble scratches sporadically at the unbuttoned collar of his wrinkled service uniform; each new step brings him closer to her. The efforts of the falling night being cast around him are once again trying to claim him in the sleepy comforts of a blanket of darkness. While being just as unrelenting in its assault, time has also began to crack him as well; split him free from the rigidity of the rock face and crumble him with the outcropping of emotion held within. Yet a devoted soldier will never falter in his duty. In a blur of scenes and motion, Augustus Lyomens is once again gently cradling the warm, lifeless hand of his only daughter, Andora Lyomens in those of his own. Calming and soothing are his quiet tones to her. "Daddy's here sweety. I am here with you." Through the sensations of touch and sound, so begins another night time's parental watch over those who are perpetually asleep.
As the long slow minutes spent by her medical bedside whittle away the empty night, an unobtrusive quiet adorns the room in simple peace and solitude until it is disturbed by a soft rapping at the doorway. Lieutenant Ilaina Keshman, the Intaki female officer shyly announces her presence to the Admiral and from her slightly disheveled appearance she too appears well worn by duty. With a light tread she enters into the room, pulling a second chair in close for a more informal conversation with the Admiral, pausing only to offer a kind reassuring hand to the comatose Andora. The worries frowning upon her brow, especially at this late hour of the night is a sure signal to those present that it does not appear to be good news that she brings. Her eyes refocus, fully taking in a different man seated before her and she doesn't know who to feel sorrier for at the moment. Adjusting herself in her seat, Ilaina begins her report with a sigh and a gentle squeeze of Andora's shin if only to let her know that she was also there with her before turning back her full attention to the anxious, grizzled man. "Sir. I've uncovered a few details about what your daughter might have been involved in before her 'accident' I should first warn you, it doesn't appear to be very good news." With slightly downcast eyes, the lieutenant swallows back her own anxiety before continuing with her report. "She worked for the Federal Intelligence Office. That fact, we already knew. Yet there is a good possibility that Andora might have fallen in with a secret cabal of Ultranationalist loyalists at work within Mentas Blaque's own organization. Whether or not he personally knows of their existence-- I cannot say."
"U-Nats??! How is this even possible? Andora would never betray the Federation. She would never--” stammers the now lost Augustus; another hammer blow to the rock. Intermittent memories of his daughter's teenage years spent alone and apart from each other echo out the loudest in his mind. Years of rebellion and heated words in disagreement screamed between the two of them chisel themselves deep within the lines of his face, carving out prepared channels for inevitable tears. He just shakes them away; back and forth, back and forth.
"To be honest, it doesn't appear that she fully understood or even knew who it was that she was really working for. Though I know in my heart that she couldn't possibly be a traitor... I'm also afraid there's more to this than just what's on the surface."
"I don't quite follow where you're going with this Lieutenant-- Just start from the beginning. I need to know everything that happened, no matter how minute the detail." Admiral Lyomens was now very much awake with alert inquisitive eyes upon his subordinate in command, intent only on a single purpose; his physical demeanor and appearance contrasted the intensity of his focus.

Fíorghrá: Grá na fírinne

Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

Bíonn súil le muir ach ní bhíonn súil le tír.

Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir.

When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...

Enya Sparhawk

Black Tea and Talons

Likes received: 80

#8 - 2015-04-02 01:38:10 UTC

"Sir... I had to resort to some, shall we say 'unconventional' methods to even get what little information that I did. From a former life-- I remembered being a serious weapons smuggler during the Caldari-Gallente War. I won't soften it. I committed a great number of inhuman atrocities during that period. Up until now, it was merely a set of memories of a tale in my total lives that I wasn't always quite proud of. At least now I guess they finally came to some use. Well-- during that lifetime I often worked for the more underground of the Gallente Federation society, highly criminal and also very good at achieving acquisition of sensitive information through the detection and nurturing of vice. One of the true weaknesses of this free society seemed the most obvious place to start on this one. Unfortunately, your credentials and your military security clearance, as high as they are, were just not good enough for the task at hand. All that I could recover was some redacted budget information for a Senate committee regarding the 'Prometheus Program'. Nothing else. Just the name of the project that she worked for and absolutely nothing else. The very system that we protect seems to have been reinvented itself in order to keep concerned prying eyes in a perpetual loop, constantly jumping through each hurdle only to find themselves right back to where they had started through nothing more than clever efficient bureaucracy. I then pressed a few other sources with your creds. The Federation Navy Internal Security Division was more than happy to offer some unique opportunities to obtain a lead in this investigation. So I took it... the chance that is. On a routine border sweep, a small patrol fleet came upon a few Shadow Serpantis transport ships being used for human smuggling."--
"You're basing all of this information that you've obtained merely on the word of a pirate? Ilaina... Have you forgotten what we even do?? Where is your head? No good would ever come from whatever they say..." At this last word Augustus Lyomens releases his daughter’s hand, covering his face with his own two. There appears to be a slight tremor in one of her fingers; leaning his own against the rock face seems to steady the rest of his body.
Lieutenant Keshman raises both of her fists before the Admiral's covered eyes showing him how cut up and bloodied her knuckles were before continuing with the details of what her investigation uncovered; she keeps holding them there. "I spent hours literally beating on one of these guys until he was within only an inch of his life left. Then, I hooked him up to a transneural burning scanner and took a snap shot of his brain. I made sure that he felt every bit of it until it was finished. When his clone was reawakened, I proceeded to beat him again... At that last inch, he finally told me about a former expelled scientist of the Duvolle Laboratories family that was hidden in one of the transport's secret cargo compartments. These pirate holds were custom made into the engineering of the actual transport, they were virtually undetectable by ship and cargo scanners by their very design. Apparently the organization really wanted this guy, so they came in and nabbed him. Kidnapped him right from inside Federation space. When we routinely intercepted 'em, they were in the process of smuggling this man back to Serpentis space. It seems that this former scientist was one of the higher ups in the 'Labs', a brilliant prodigy in his chosen fields but he also had a slight narcotic and gambling addiction in his more private life. Ironic really, the cost of this poor bastard's addictions was his inability to shake those same addictions. In a prospering, heightened society dedicated to the needs and wants of the individual, I find it unimaginable that he couldn't find the right self-help group for whatever 'demon' he needed to kick. Seriously!? Some habits can be booted just by the creation of a new clone body. --- Yet here he was... He fortunately also seems to know a lot about what your daughter was into. Information that he wanted to barter for his own personal safety. By all accounts, this man doesn't have anyone in the universe to vouch for his personal interests. He certainly doesn't have many friends left. It eventually came to a point in his life when his quickly amassing debt became a liability to not only the security of the Duvalle Corporation but all of its assets both physically and intellectually. So they gave him his leave. In the beginning of his downfall, he was unfortunately heavily indebted to a numerous amount of smaller criminal organizations, which then in turn mysteriously began consolidating all of the man's debt from those others into the accounts of just one shell corp. Now it appears that he just owes the Serpantis' criminal organization a whole lot of money. Money that I'm guessing that he cannot afford to pony up. I'm sure the Serpantis figure that by now they physically owned him and therefore everything that he knows. Considering what he knows and the secrets he worked on for Duvolle Laboratories, -- Well, I'm starting think this that 'kidnapping' might have been pre-meditated. It was sort of lucky that we were there just at that precise time to actually see any of this happen."
"So-- What exactly did this 'citizen' in custody know?" inquired the Admiral, now a little more focused; his eyes were now opened by the sight of the still young Intaki Idama's hands clenched before him. In that moment, he instantly recalls the first time meeting this exact same woman as a very young and green cadet. He was amazed by the patience and wisdom being demonstrated by so young a person; experience and confidence beyond those of even his own years. Her soft looking, childlike hands were always calm and steady, no matter what was being thrown at them throughout the

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Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

Bíonn súil le muir ach ní bhíonn súil le tír.

Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir.

When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...

Enya Sparhawk

Black Tea and Talons

Likes received: 80

#9 - 2015-04-02 01:40:25 UTC | Edited by: Enya Sparhawk

"Trouble Sir. And it seems to be a lot of it by the looks of it. This man we re-obtained from the enemy, he was uh... specialized in some of the more unique cloning projects for Cromeaux Inc. To name a few areas: Neural mapping... Autonomic functions of the clone body... Clone aging and cellular deterioration programs... Genetic sequencing of every variety... His resume goes on and on like that-- The man was a brilliant scientist from even an early age. He was born as a gifted child prodigy in both the human genome and Nano cellular engineering. He was scooped up by the corp. from an early age and they redirected his formal education to meet their impending needs. Personally I thought this guy was a little too coddled from the start. He shows too much weakness in both his character and willpower. You can't expect much out of someone when they've been afforded a life of excess pretty much the majority of their life. His parents must have been so proud. SIGH. It’s shameful to see such things. Anyways, one of the projects that he participated in during his youth as a possible sale to the Fed Navy was shelved after only a few years of research and invested development... At least until the SDII took an interest in it. That and an "interest" in the data and research from a few other active programs. You know something-- that blasted Executive Order has given them carte blanche for nearly everything in the Federation. Right there on the spot they took all of the data, samples, prototypes and research without so much as an explanation as to what they wanted it for and then scurried it all away back to a secret location. From that time onwards, our little gambler occasionally worked as an advisor over cloning and neural memory issues or the occasional simple explanation to any one of his proposed theories with the 'Blackies'. A few times he even found himself a fortunate 'visitor' to one of their secret eyries in a mountain complex, but it was always under very tight security and the confined restraint to many of his senses. GRIN. Of course this fortunately didn't stop our little thieving genome hacker from picking up a thing or two of useful info the few times that he was in there. Perhaps as something to sell off for a hefty sum or maybe just to save his own unlucky ass at a much later date. For whatever the reason, we now have our own set of hard copies of their mysterious project's data. Including some transaction records from a few undisclosed funding sources belonging to known Ultranationalist shell corporations scattered throughout the Federation. Whatever the case, this project is very well funded from a great many unidentifiable sources. Each separate file is being stored in an undisclosed secured location to keep all of them from falling into a single set of wrong hands. As per your instructions, we're not trusting anyone with any access to it. I'm the only one with the key.--- My preliminary examination of some of the files suggests that the program your daughter was involved in was merging active Sansha Nation technologies with some sort of self-sufficient clone body. Perhaps to turn them into some sort of drone soldier, I can't really say for certain, starships have always been my field of expertise, not clones. It doesn't appear that this technology can be used to create a very effective army. So I'm going to eliminate its use in plans for an insurgency or even a full scale invasion against any of the Empires. Perhaps it’s for something more covert in nature... Though to be quite frank, whatever its true purpose, knowing what the Black Eagles are capable of, it doesn't appear that any of this was intended to be for the 'good' of the Federation. Sir."
"Good work Ilaina." Struggling to take all of this new information in, Admiral Augustus Lyomens once again takes the hand of his daughter into his own, and with his other free hand takes hold of one of Ilaina Keshmen's. He takes in a deep breath, pausing slightly with his eyes closed to digest and formulate a new strategy; an enemy that he can now face. Refocusing his sight on the Itaki female seated before him, Augustus finally asks, "Is there any good news for Andora out of any of this?"

---

"According to the third, his treachery was forgotten in the course of thousands of years, forgotten by the gods, the eagles, forgotten by himself."

---

Rays from a curious star dance their way through the cut stone hole embedded within the mountain rock, momentarily perching upon the shoulder of an imprisoned man; once again seated across from him, Epophian is anxiously waiting with his back against the wall, feverishly trying to determine whether or not agent Desmontes would still be fit for active duty. Over the course of the previous day and night, he had Aeschylus under full medical observation while obviously still attached to the stone wall, trying to find out information about his present mental state. His previous diagnosis of the reawakened man's ego was now marred by the arrival of this new set of selected memories, randomly displaying themselves. Or maybe just highlighting a weak point in his thoughts? Caldari? Epophian shakes the notion off. After reviewing the medical investigation findings, it was determined that the best course of action was a selective memory wipe of the patient's neural tissue, eliminating the better part of 74% of the foreign memories scattered among

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Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

Bíonn súil le muir ach ní bhíonn súil le tír.

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When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...

Enya Sparhawk

Black Tea and Talons

Likes received: 80

#10 - 2015-04-02 01:41:43 UTC

"Ah! Aeschylus my good man. Is that really you?" He mockingly asks the dazed man chained to the mass of rock encasing him. "I hope it is. I could really use you at a time like this."
"GET BENT!!" Agent Desmontes weakly yells back at his superior, an obvious tone of defiance in his voice.
"Oh... It is you. -- Listen up. We had a little leak. If I hadn't taken the proper measures in order to silence it, we'd all be sunk right now. You. Me. Everything that we worked so hard over these last few years to create. Of course, we are not out of the water just yet. We still have a little problem of interference from security elements within the Federation's Navy. A nosey Admiral to be more exact. I need it contained. I quite literally needed it contained like yesterday. Do I have your full attention now?"
"Cut me loose... I'll give you my full attention then."
"Not a chance, at least not yet. Tomorrow you will be free to go. All transgressions of the past will be forgotten. As for today-- You aren’t getting out of those chains. Are you prepared to listen to my proposal? Or should I come back tomorrow?"
The Strike Commander weighs out all of his options before speaking again. "First tell me something, what's the current status of the drone recovery operation?" He too needed to find something to use as leverage, something to hold over his Caldarian nemesis; his one and only known weakness.

---

The yawning sun finally tired of this part of the planet, pushes the last of his rays down upon the sprawling megalopolis of Caille before making his exit from the hemispherical office for another day. The dark cover of night became a time to forget all of your daily woes; some even dream. The humid sleepiness hangs thickly in the air; a cool settling fog is easily dispersed by the growing nightlife's multi-bodied, millipede like movement over the sidewalks. A lone bug stumbles his way through the crowded mass and luminescent neon of the night on course with the military hospital. As if he were being drawn in to a single lonely flame, burning somewhere outside the realm of the fallen night's shade; perhaps even mesmerized, a shuffling dance of a slow heart beating out upon the sidewalk. Flutter. Bouncing off the side of his capped head an ignorant moth darts to and fro, in and out of the path in front of him. Augustus gradually loses his focus of the reality that is surrounding him. Like the moth, adrift in thought and worry. In no time at all, he is surprised by an unknown visitor to the daughter's room, sitting by her bedside waiting for him to arrive. The Admiral quickly and adeptly hides his initial surprise behind decades of military service. From then on, Augustus Lyomens shows no emotion before his enemy. Facing his intruder he straightens up and starts with a few direct questions.
"Who are you? How did you get in here?"-- Following without a pause or response, the authority earned by him for his long years of service in the Federation. "This is a secured facility for Federation Navy personnel only! You have no right to be in here, this is a private room. Off limits!!"
"I knew this woman Admiral. Sir." The mysterious man in black quickly stands at attention. Augustus notices that there is nothing distinct about this gentleman, looking quite ordinary in all accounts. He could see that the man had the bearing of an 'Eagle' about him; there was something about his eyes. The strange man defensively follows these words with, "Actually Sir, I still hold the rank of Strike Commander. I also have clearance to be in here. Anywhere in Federation space to be more exact... It’s a pretty awesome responsibility." Taking one last lingering glance over the face of the sleeping woman he continues, "I remember this woman-- she worked for me. Now I finally see what all this fuss is about. I'm sorry for your loss. I truly am Admiral, but you have to let her go. I thought she was dead. Our experts with the technology that was responsible for this 'accident' have assured us that there is no coming back from this state. Her brain has become erased entirely. If ever she awoke, which in itself would be a 'miracle', she would have the cognitive functions of a toddler without ever having any hope of future improvement. Nothing but a walking vegetable. A burden on both the family and the Federation taxpayers. Wouldn't you agree?"

Fíorghrá: Grá na fírinne

Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

Bíonn súil le muir ach ní bhíonn súil le tír.

Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir.

When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...

Enya Sparhawk

Black Tea and Talons

Likes received: 80

#11 - 2015-04-02 01:42:49 UTC

With a stare he brushes both hands away. "Oh so you're the one I thank for her present condition? Look at you. You're no 'Eagle' you're more like a vulture. Standing at attention. You're a disgrace to that rank and to that insignia. Right here. Right now. You're standing inside a heavily secured military complex, outnumbered and severely out armed. I also outrank you and most of the people within these boundaries, able to call in reinforcements at a moment’s notice." Augustus leans in closer, redirecting his stare. "I know a pirate when I see one. We hang pirates in the Navy." Nudging his head towards the ceiling, he cranes skywards with his words. "See that bulkhead up there, the real sturdy one. I can have a length of rope around that in like five minutes. Long enough to properly hang a man. Do you notice any rope around here?" With a quick glance to either side, "No. You don't." Showing the open palm of his left hand to the stranger, Augustus finishes. "Five minutes. Tops."
"Save your theatrics Admiral. I was just paying my respects--" While flourishing a hand of his own mockingly outward, "And then I was on my way out." Stopping to assess the situation a bit further, "Do you want know something?!!" At this point he was trying hard to maintain his composure and to not allow his tempted anger to boil out; the mysterious man takes pause before continuing. "This isn't my fault. She was hurt while in the line of duty. What we do may be a bit secretive but that is the side of the coin we were paid with. We play our role in keeping the Federation safe. You do know what duty is Admiral, do you not? Sometimes people get hurt or even killed while performing their service to the Federation. That is what happened here. An unfortunate loss. She was doing her part for keeping our boundaries secured against pirates and the other empires. Just let it go."
Now standing nearly eye to eye, the Admiral taunts his enemy with his superiority. "You stupid smug son of a *****. -- Get OUT!! Leave this room and don't ever come back." Further down the hall, the sound motions an alert at a security garrison outpost; one of many situated at random intervals throughout the entire complex. Watching the man sidle past him into the hallway, Augustus throws a bit of his newly gained information back at the exiting man. "I know what you've been up to. I even know who supplies your funding. From here on in, it is my sole duty to bring you and your organization to justice for your crimes. 'The eyesight for an eagle is what thought is to a man.' (Dejan Stojanovic)" Taunting further, "Rather fitting quote wouldn't you agree? Especially since you're part of the Federal Intelligence Office and couldn’t even see this coming."
Turning one quarter of the way back on his heels, he stops. While standing just outside the room within the hallway corridor, the mysterious man patiently responds over his shoulder to the high ranking officer peering out from the doorway. "I'll leave. I won't even come back. --- You should know a little something about what I do Admiral. I help get back what was stolen from the Federation. Or even what it needs. At other times, I too act as a surgical tool in a more hands on approach to eliminating potential terrorist threats to the Federation. What is for certain: all that I do is for the cause of the greater good. Like you, I am mandated by Executive Orders. Contrary to popular societal misbeliefs, I'm certainly not in the habit of making people 'disappear' without a trace overnight. You can rest assured... your body will be there whole and complete in the morning, ready to be beaten on by another day's toil. Or then again-- just plain dead. Good evening Admiral." He then leaves the hospital the same way that he came in.
The Admiral knew the reputation of the Black Eagles for their very strong armed response to ordinary citizens within the Federation; the Fed Navy and the FIO had on numerous occasions worked together against the Federation's common enemies. All branded under the guise of freedom and liberty. He also knew it because what they were doing was what the Navy has always done to the Federation's own enemies; each time carried out under the banners of freedom and liberty, and certainly not under black coloured masks. This was no idle threat that Augustus Lyomens perceived. Nobody. Absolutely nobody in their right mind, anywhere within the entirety of the Gallente Federation space, would there be a person stupid enough to threaten upper echelons of high ranking personal elements within the Federation's own Navy. Or would there be? To be sure, a cornered enemy is one to be feared; he had seen desperation quickly replace a man's very own sense of reason more times than he could count. He personally wasn't afraid of death; the Admiral once commanded Titans in space. An investigation into the causes of his own death would be Federation wide and answers would ultimately be demanded from the Executive Branch as well as the population. Still, he held fast to his duty. For justice to reign in the Federation, he unfortunately needed this man alive to face trial for his assorted crimes within the governmental system. A fleeting thought. As if it were a tiny spark just suddenly scattered about the room, fuels regret's echoing necktie lingering freely about the forefront of Augustus' mind. The man's words had brought fire, and with it burned themselves into his thoughts. Within this 'chance' face to face meeting, the Admiral trusted every one of instincts on this man implicitly. This was definitely a man who should not have been entrusted with such wide sweeping powers.

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Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

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Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir.

When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...

Enya Sparhawk

Black Tea and Talons

Likes received: 80

#12 - 2015-04-02 01:43:42 UTC | Edited by: Enya Sparhawk

Still.

If only I were a more emotional man.

Shaking away the encounter, Augustus Lyomens takes his accustomed nightly seat by the bedside of this 'supposedly terminal' female Gallentean citizen, while once again taking her warm hand into his own. After some time of unspoken meditation protectively admiring the sight of her peaceful slumber passes, the chanted buzzing of calming words softly spoken for the mercy of his daughter's heart begin to fill the air. All the tension accumulated from the previous encounter finally subsides, leaving the Admiral a little more clear headed and once again in command; he decides to make contact with his assistant. He knew he had to warn his Lieutenant of the imminent danger they were now mired in. During most of the day, the Admiral had the rest of his staff pour over any and every FIO request to the Navy made within the last few months, mostly searching for anything unusual. A sharp hunch. This luckily paid off for him. With the highly decorated pull behind his name and the vast Naval resources at his immediate disposal, years of devoted dedication to duty entitled him to quickly yet quietly neutralize any number of rogue organizations at work within the Gallente Federation, if he had reason to do so. Or if he just saw fit. It was how the Fed Navy dealt with Capsuleers and their alliances within the Federation's own borders. This situation on the other hand was quite different, presenting a tricky legal challenge to accomplishing anything within his authority against them. Both of their immense organizations were each different sides of the same coin; our fortunes and worth were always of equal value. Hence we see the Federation's need for a scale. Here, a strategic tactician plans. This matter was delicate and Augustus knew that he needed to be swift but very precise in his attack. He had to effectively encircle what he believes to be a small tumorous cell within the Federal Intelligence Office and then try to neutralize it. The earliest plan so far, revolves around a mysterious Federal Intelligence gag order to the Gallentean news wire services to delay the release of a news story, even from the military bulletin. The story in itself was not very fantastic; some rogue AIMED unit attacks a Gallentean child in the wilds of Caldari Prime. It was the fact that the story was being ordered to be delayed from the Federation Navy's own news service as well. This had drawn the Admiral's keen attention, instinct told him this was where he needed to be. When he started investigating the cause, the first thing he did when the order was brought to his attention was to immediately request all details and view all sources of the story. Cutting through the bureaucracy of information gathering is nearly impossible; as an Admiral it merely takes some time. It was the sole reason why Admiral Lyomens was arriving so late to the hospital that night. Augustus didn't know the reasoning why but he knew that Ilaina Keshman needed to get him that rogue drone from Caldari Prime; there was nothing in the way of a connection that stood out from this story. From decades of experience he had foreseen this inevitability and was therefore already started in his preparations for the mission; he spent the last of his workday hours getting reconnected with an old friend. Even now he still has lingering thoughts about the 'whys': Why would they try and hide this story from the public? Why are they trying to keep something out of earshot of CONCORD's S.P.O?!... Then from there his mind shifts back to his thoughts from his time with the fluttering moth: ...like a giant mechanical spider with a little, tiny mouse...
Pulling out a personal data pad from the inside of his naval jacket pocket, he effortlessly accesses the encrypted electronic device's biometric readers unlocking the inert device for his use only. With a few words his voice was tested, followed by a simple inputted password. There were no new messages or contacts. It was this one tiny device no bigger than the palm of his hand, that allowed the Admiral to continuously stay updated and in communication with any person from Naval Command and the Fed Navy's War Room in real time, anywhere in the universe. The Gallente had invented FTL. It was part of the Federation Navy's own network as a means of continual communications among their own people outside of a pod. The system itself was designed and maintained to be unhackable from outside sources for the sake of ongoing naval operations' security. For all appearances it looks like nothing more than a plain rectangular piece of silicate glass; a Federation Navy symbol was etched onto the back side of the glass for decoration. With a simple tap to any other glass like surface, advanced holographic touch technologies have allowed the Navy to turn an ordinary room full of windows and counter tops into a complex mobile operations command post; with eyes and ears on everything in the Gallente Federation universe, all 'wirelessly' powered by this inconspicuous device. The basic concept behind its sole function and design was a result of an unexpected cinematic breakthrough in the field of holographic technologies; essentially, contained light and energy were 'accidently' given more mass.

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Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

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Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir.

When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...

Enya Sparhawk

Black Tea and Talons

Likes received: 80

#13 - 2015-04-02 01:45:24 UTC

If they get caught...

--"Sir! Keshman here! Where've you been??-- I’ve been trying to get into contact with you for hours now. I've left a dozen or so messages for you. Things haven't taken a turn for the better. Do you remember that scientist gambler we had in our possession...? He's dead. Took a round to the head. We don't know how it happened, Naval Internal Security forces just found him this morning murdered within his detention cell. That's when I came straight here. No one saw or heard a thing. Cameras and sensors logs are all clean. I'm baffled Sir. I'm at my wits end. That's not the worst part; my only lead is a guy who went to the infirmary last night for a twisted ankle. Apparently, some maintenance drone pushed him out of the way while it was heading down a corridor towards the cell blocks. I'm not sure if this will get us anything: the drone was one of ours and it also had the clearance to work within the cell blocks. Very unusual behaviour for an AI unit; courtesy to humans is part of their core programming. It drives them. Personally, I think he just tripped because he wasn't watching where he was going..."--
"At ease Lieutenant. -- Ilaina... I just met the man responsible for what happened to Andora. He was just here at the hospital no more than five minutes ago. I came in to the room and found him just sitting there right by her bedside. I think whatever it is that we uncovered has definitely stirred their attention as well. I sort of wish that I would have known about our witness' death a few minutes earlier. I really do. His threat was pretty clear Lieutenant. We are very much, the two of us in immediate and grave danger. Prepare yourself well for a very long, hard fight Lieutenant Keshman, in order to survive this we are going to need something to use against him. Something that I can take right to the Executive branch in the government to explain to them why I personally killed this man. Luckily, I may have found information on where to obtain that very item. Delegate what you are doing at the moment to someone else. There is a new task which I would like you to handle personally. Handpick a ten man naval team for a deep insertion black op. You're heading to Caldari Prime." The Admiral suddenly becomes very blunt and somewhat dark. "I wanted to kill him Ilaina. Right there on the spot. I was going to watch the air slowly choke from his quivering body." Lieutenant Keshman is stunned a little by the sudden shift in his personality but she understood fully.
--"Who's my target Sir?"--
"Negative. It’s retrieval. A rogue Caldari AIMED unit at large somewhere in the vicinity of a wooded glen at the base of the Kaalakiota Mountains. Time is a factor on this, so you need to handle this quickly and also very quietly. We cannot alert any of the authorities on that planet to our presence there, not even our own. Get in. Obtain the drone. Get out." Beboop. An abridged data file containing all of her mission objectives and information instantly appears within Lieutenant Keshman's comm. device inbox. "I've just transferred you a packet over from the office network containing all of the details. There are links to other files should you need more information. The network is isolated and we should be able to access it from anywhere without being detected or watched. I've had the Naval computer techs increased the systems internal security rating, so we can use it as a point of data information sharing should anything else new arise.

Fíorghrá: Grá na fírinne

Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

Bíonn súil le muir ach ní bhíonn súil le tír.

Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir.

When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...

Enya Sparhawk

Black Tea and Talons

Likes received: 80

#14 - 2015-04-02 01:46:15 UTC

--"Understood Sir. I'll be in contact with you by first light. Ilaina out."--
Upon ending the conversation with the Intaki female, the darkened room becomes adorned in an unobtrusive, solemn quiet; the pulsating beep and mechanical breath of life support machines softly linger in the background. Slowly tossing it up and down within his hand, he absently weighs his badge of authority before replacing it back into the folds of his naval jacket pocket. Somehow, it felt lighter. Augustus Lyomens still gently holding onto Andora's warm hand lightly kisses her forehead, while with his other newly freed hand, pushes back the stray silken hairs webbing out over her forehead before finally leaving her for the last time. He still held unto hope. As he exits into the hallway, a single solitary thought cannot escape from his mind. Like a mechanical spider...
Passing through the final security checkpoints of the hospital, the Admiral once again enters into the world outside. The night air is cool and still, contrasting the random motion and hot holographic neon scene on the streets below. Here he is just another pedestrian, walking the distance back to the office and access to the Naval parking garage. Augustus, before he could continue, needed to retrieve something from his home and he always preferred to pilot himself. His home was located just outside of the city, but it only took mere minutes once he was airborne to reach it. While serving with his friend André Philipe many years ago, he had found something while on tour in the outer reaches; a curious artifact from a race who had existed ages before in the area. A unique looking necklace made of an unusual alloy carefully crafted around a tiny flawless crystal of undetermined make. It had the appearance of eternity, as if Augustus had just plucked a star from the night sky and allowed it to cool in his hand. So inspired, his original thought had instantly been to give it to his new bride, which was in the early years before she had succumbed to her illness. The heartfelt gift was to speak volumes for such a timid, reserved young man who normally endured life unsure of his own self in silence; his love had given Augustus a reason to embrace his emotional side and therefore his courage. After her passing, the shining 'star' slowly became lost once more from the eyes of the universe, now brought back to memory; it would serve well as Augustus' parting gift for Andora. As a sign of her parent's love always cradling around her neck as she had once lovingly clung to each of theirs for safety as a child.
Upon entering the air, the Admiral turns the nose of his craft towards the direction of his domicile as the buildings of the megalopolis below quickly fade away into the distant horizon behind him. Beep. His comm. device comes to life within his jacket, alerting the Admiral to an incoming connection. Reaching into his pocket he first unlocks, then answers the device. Tendrils of holographic light lash out like tentacles from the silicate glass rectangle. Firmly wrapping themselves around the victim's head, they begin constricting themselves, reforming the entire woven mass into a single band of liquid light and energy. Disoriented by the sudden surprise attack Augustus Lyomens doesn't immediately notice that the vehicle has automatically changed course, flying on its own into a new direction as the glass like device now becomes firmly attached onto one side of his head. Pressing itself deeper and deeper, the pain and shock of the constricting circular vice soon quickly becomes replaced by an entirely new sensation.
Pulse. A resonant charge of radiant energy flashes out from the device bouncing within the confines of the holographic band; fluids from the inside of his head begin seeping from the eyes, ears and nose of the now brain dead victim. Shattered and fractured, the glass like device falls uselessly to the floor of the vehicle as the circuits held within are fried beyond recognition after completing their final task. Undeterred by the internal disturbance, the automated craft continues its course into the regrouping dark of the planet away from the star, carrying the newly dead back under the cover of night.

---

Fíorghrá: Grá na fírinne

Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

Bíonn súil le muir ach ní bhíonn súil le tír.

Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir.

When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...

Enya Sparhawk

Black Tea and Talons

Likes received: 80

#15 - 2015-04-02 01:47:11 UTC

"According to the fourth, everyone grew weary of the meaningless affair. The gods grew weary, the eagles grew weary, the wound closed wearily.

There remains the inexplicable mass of rock. The legend tried to explain the inexplicable. As it came out of a substratum of truth it had in turn to end in the inexplicable."

-Franz Kafka:

---

The new morning Luminaire star carefully fades away the night sky from its eyes before beaming down upon each of the waking citizens of Caille megalopolis; a yawning sun appears already bored with the day. Foregoing sleep, Lieutenant Ilaina Keshman arrives by first light expecting to find the Admiral still asleep by his daughter's bedside; on an occasional night, a kind orderly would just wheel a cot into the room and roll the sleeping Admiral onto it as he would any other of his sleeping patients. She had received a message from Augustus redirecting her to meet him here at the hospital first thing in the morning instead. Oddly though on this particular morning, Admiral Lyomens wasn't to be found anywhere within the hospital ground's perimeter, leaving the Idama woman free to do what she did best. Contemplation, reflection and remembrance. She patiently waited for him, setting her tired frame down into the empty chair by Andora's hospital bed, and conserved her strength. The slow winding minutes eventually turned into a few bustling early morning hours as the once absent day staff began making their daily rounds anew. She knew her commander well, he could take care of himself in any situation subsiding any errant worries she might have had about his delayed absence; the Admiral was a man who was never late, anywhere. It was so unlike him to make her wait like this. She leaves yet another unanswered message to the Admiral's comm. Awaiting her orders, Ilaina wanes. A young woman eventually drifts off and succumbs to a reserved sleep.
By midmorning, Augustus Lyomens finally arrives to his daughter's private hospital room. The young Intaki female roused from a broken slumber quickly stands at attention. While at the same time, she also takes a side step away from the bed, allowing the Admiral complete access to his usual bedside chair. With the lingering sleep still shadowing her eyes, Ilaina can still easily recognize an overwhelming change in her commander's physical appearance. No longer was Augustus rugged looking and worn by constant held in worry, but clean shaven, neatly pressed and looking as a specimen of raw Navy image marketing wearing his full dress uniform. He presented the physical definition of an officer and a gentleman all in one. Standing before her was once again the man that she always remembered looking up to. Here was her fearless leader prepared for his best, as a renewed vigour becomes sparked in the morale of the lower ranking officer, a silent rally cry to fight on lifts her waning spirit; through her research, she had now understood what the 'shade' clones were being used for.
Without so much as a passing glance towards his comatose daughter, Augustus Lyomens with forceful calculating eyes fixed upon his lieutenant, addresses the subordinate standing by his side. While at the same time he reaches out and depresses the button attached to the wall signaling the attending physician to report to the patient's room. "At ease Lieutenant. I'd like a status report of the witness' murder investigation?"
"Uh, Sir-- You asked me to delegate that job last night, don't you remember Admiral?" she asked a little bit confused. Here even through the haze of her sleepy mind, the Idama lieutenant is suddenly alerted to a sense of faint growing anxiety over something that doesn't seem quite right about this man standing right before her; there was definitely something in the piercing eyes that scared her. She couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.
The Admiral's gaze softens up. "Of course, of course... I just have a lot on my mind at the moment is all. Um, yes that's it... I need the list of recruits that you've chosen for your team. I've decided to let someone else take the reins on this one Ilaina. I'm sorry. Someone with a little more experience in leadership roles handling these sorts of covert missions is probably what is best for this. I've known this man his entire life and can vouch for him personally. His name is Strike Commander Aeschylus Desmontes. He is a fine officer and I fully trust in his abilities on this. I need you here instead. Besides, you will be safer by my side, and maybe now I can finally look over those documents that you have secured away. We need to prepare our case for the Executive branch." At this last part, Admiral Lyomens cracks a slight smile. After witnessing such a mundane human action, the Intaki female fully understood the danger they were now in. Her anxiety grew as her gaze falls a little towards the floor. After the few minutes since, the attending head physician finally answers the Admiral's call to the chambers. The chair remains empty.
"Is there something I can help you with Admiral?" The leading physician asks enthusiastically, since nothing in the way of medical advice, treatment or prescription was ever to be spared from any soldier or patient within this hospital; this man was paid handsomely because he was the best in this field. The Admiral now turns his attention to face this newest person who has just entered the room
"Yes Doctor--" he pauses before continuing, "I would like my daughter to finally know peace, disconnect her from these machines. Let's end this needless waste of Federation resources."

Fíorghrá: Grá na fírinne

Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

Bíonn súil le muir ach ní bhíonn súil le tír.

Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir.

When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...

Enya Sparhawk

Black Tea and Talons

Likes received: 80

#16 - 2015-04-02 01:47:59 UTC | Edited by: Enya Sparhawk

"Are you sure Admiral?" The physician asks slightly caught off guard by the request. Both witnesses are stunned by the sudden change in the Admiral's affection. With her downcast eyes, an unusual action from Andora's sleeping form catches Ilaina's attention; at each sounding of Augustus' voice, one of her index fingers twitched as if in reaching.
"I think you'll find I'm not in habit of repeating myself Doctor." offhandedly dismisses the Admiral to all those beneath his stature. Admiral Lyomens finally looks down upon the sleeping form of Lieutenant Andora Lyomens.
"Yes, of course. As you wish Sir. I'll have the orderlies prepare her personal effects at once." At that the confused doctor hurries off into the hallway in order to fully complete his new directives.
"Sir... She's your only child-- Your only daughter--” Were the only few words that Ilaina Keshman could stammer out. She didn't know how else to save the woman's life. Augustus Lyomens once again faces the young Intaki female.
"Make arrangements with the Doctor for the disposal of her personal effects Lieutenant. Then transfer your candidate list directly to the Strike Commander. He'll be awaiting your communication. Instruct your team to report for reassignment to him directly. Dismissed."
"Understood Sir." The last affirmation spoken sullenly as the Lieutenant takes one last look at the form of her terminal 'sister' before leaving the room. There had to be a way to save her.
Left alone in the hospital room, the chair remains empty. Without nearly a second glance towards the dying woman lying before him Admiral Lyomens thoughts stray to the multitude of tasks at hand that required his full and immediate attention to accomplish. All loose ends are being tied off. His mental plan is set for the entirety of this existence. All his thoughts get tied away and filed except for one. This one thought remains, always burning itself into the Admiral's daily mind. Like a luminescent, ethereal and always at the forefront of this one man's mind. Always guiding, defining all future actions within his gifted existence. The entirety of this new life would now become a slave to this one thought... Kill Rowan Deckerson.

I would like to dedicate this short story to my beautiful Sapphira; All I have is hers.

Oddly enough, you were not much inspiration for a tragedy. That's probably a good thing... ;)

Fíorghrá: Grá na fírinne

Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

Bíonn súil le muir ach ní bhíonn súil le tír.

Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir.

When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...

Eija-Riitta Veitonen

State War Academy

Caldari State

Likes received: 220

#17 - 2015-04-02 07:06:15 UTC

A great story! I enjoyed the pace, the settings, and the interwoven storylines. It held me there till the very end. And it feels complete, even with this somewhat unusual ending.

There is, however, one thing that puts me at odds with the story: the pod breach at the very first chapter. If the shields, armor plating, and the hull superstructure of a standard-issue hydrostatic capsule can handle a handful of shots from a 75mm railgun and survive, then how a mere sidearm -- a weapon with a few orders of magnitude lower power -- can breach it?

Enya Sparhawk

Black Tea and Talons

Likes received: 80

#18 - 2015-04-12 05:49:24 UTC

Hehe... well thank ya... I'm glad you liked it...

In the beginning stages, I was a little worried when I was writing this because I don't really play Gallenteans... the culture was always somewhat foreign to me... I was trying to remain somewhat unbiased, if that makes any sense...

To this:

Quote:

At the offset of the Officer's hurried and desperate command, one of the nearby technical crew quickly reaches for his Gistii-10 sidearm and begins firing round after plasma round into the outer shielding of the second-generation prototype hydrostatic capsule, trying desperately to crack the outer armor casing in order to facilitate the clone reanimation process for the nearly lifeless man contained inside.

Okay, some misunderstanding I guess... first off the assumption, you assume that only one officer ultimately breaches the pod alone. Only one reacted at first. (read the Heraclitus' quote again)

Second, it was "a second-generation prototype hydrostatic capsule" (using a bit of Isaac Asimov's writing style here for technical detail); so in a few words, different than what you see now as a capsuleer.

Lastly, the size of the breach is inconsequential. (I'm not trying to destroy the pod, merely breach it)

"Eija-Riitta Veitonen" wrote:

And it feels complete, even with this somewhat unusual ending.

Complete?!?!? (LOL Research the title a little bit)

Thanks for the input, I hope I was able to clarify a few things for you...

- Ens

Fíorghrá: Grá na fírinne

Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

Bíonn súil le muir ach ní bhíonn súil le tír.

Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir.

When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...