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Fiction Competition: The Three Part 1 Thread
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Lite Sabre
Jove Defence Establishment
#1 - 2015-11-19 05:18:07 UTC
We are Three
We are three, yet we are alone.
The Universe of Eve, more than 7000 systems linked by a network of star gates.
The Universe of Eve, home to great empires and the near immortal Empyrean pilots, yet we are still alone.
It is no surprise then, that we chose an uninteresting, relatively empty system to make our home. The single unassuming golden star is home to no permanent orbital trade hubs. It is seldom visited and that is how we like it.
Around the seventh moon of a dead barren planet orbits our tiny, innocent looking solar ice compression facility. Except for the slight pulse of the blue shielding through the darkness of space it would almost look abandoned.
‘Father, how did we get here?’
I look to my right at the young woman. Like me her skin is blue, she has no hair and her impossibly white eyes catch my attention. Her face bares our hall mark pattern of tattoos, we like to call them our face-plates. She smiles gently in my direction.
‘Do tell, please!’ exclaims another young woman on my left. Slightly older than her sister and unmistakeably one of the lost. The tattoos on her face are slightly different than those of her sister. Her eyes seem to gleam a bright white, endearing a response.
‘How many times must I tell you? I am not your father’ I reply slowly, but gently.
‘Come on old man! Tell us, how did we get here?’ responds the younger sister, eagerly clasping her hands on the silent control table that sits before us.
I shiver with the stirrings of the memory. The room is warm and although small is a comfortable relaxing area. Even so, I feel the growing dread as I recall the pain, the violence, life, flight and the death.
Lite Sabre
Jove Defence Establishment
#2 - 2015-11-19 05:18:31 UTC
Pain
I almost cry out as I remember the sudden sharp agony and blinding bright light as I awoke for the first time in my cryo-tube. The memories seem so distant and many seem to have slipped away completely.
My life started as a young Amarrian shuttle pilot, sandy hair and skin with a youthful full face complete with broad nose.
I was so lucky, assigned to the grand golden Amarr Warship Fearless. The AWS Fearless, so powerful and proud. An Armageddon class battleship with a long and noble career upholding the virtues of the Amarr Empire. Like me, the vessel was swift and agile. Unlike my small shuttle she had teeth that could rip through the shields, armour and hull of those who dared cross her.
My mind returns to the present as I reach hesitantly for the Jovian Sunspot. I love that drink, pale blue Caldari iced water with a small golden globe of Amarrian spice floating at the heart of the liquid.
I glance at my two companions whose white eyes look on expectantly. Their face-plates almost seem to glow, reflecting the lights of the soft pulsing control panels that line the walls of the small crew quarters.
More settled I focus once more on my story. I recall the loss. Why did they come? At first it was easy. Large, cumbersome probes called Seekers, scanning everything in their path. Their search patterns random yet foreboding. What are they looking for, what is their purpose?
How dare they enter Amarrian space, encroaching unwelcomed on our sphere of influence.
It was easy at first to pick them off. They didn’t even return fire, just trying to escape. A good warp scramble lock was enough to prevent this and our weapons would rapidly reduce them to the melted metal that they so deserved. Over time they seemed to adapt, returning an inadequate fire that was easily absorbed by the shielding of the mighty Fearless.
Then, the structures slowly appeared. Alien in nature, lurking within our systems. Their technology immediately identifiable as that of the Jove.
I reach for a quick sip of my Jovian Sunspot, named after the lost Jovian Empire. No one has seen a Jove for some time, yet when I look in the mirror now I see an image oddly not dissimilar to that missing race. Far more technologically advanced than the other races that occupy Eve, it is they who created the devices that gave birth to the immortal Empyrean pilot. Combining cryo-stasis, cloning technology and enhanced communication techniques it was they who gave the gift of the Empyrean capsuleer pilot.
Tall, thin, no hair and blue. Sounds familiar I think as I return my Sunspot to the control table before me. However, importantly they lack the face-plate. We are mere shadows of the glory that has gone before us, but one day maybe their might shall return to the dark universe that they left behind.
Lite Sabre
Jove Defence Establishment
#3 - 2015-11-19 05:24:02 UTC

Violence
Ordered to approach the structures, advanced technology at stake the AWS Fearless drew near.
The structures are huge, tall pillars of metal. Their purpose to seemingly observe in secret the lesser races of humanity. They tower formidably before us as the golden form of the Fearless draws near.
Then the Drifters. Unlike the probes these are sleek, rapid, devastating with their fire power.
There was no warning. Two of the advanced battleships warped instantly onto the grid.
Fearless by name, fearless by nature our vessel turned toward them. Gun ports being brought to bear, shields activating and warning sirens blazing. Without thought we rushed to our combat stations.
Being a lowly, yet Amarr proud shuttle pilot my secondary function is shield technician. I help maintain and manage the shields that protect the small supply bay. The hold is full of technical supplies required to keep the Fearless on station. It is many ways the heart of the great ship, but is also its weakest spot. A well placed laser thrust could easily penetrate and result in a chain reaction as the technical supplies are ripped apart within the belly of the mighty Amarrian war beast.
The intruders are powerful. The Fearless shudders as her shields struggle to repel the thrusts of unknown enemy weaponry.
It’s strange, fighting an enemy when you can’t see them. Now on station all I can see are the madly flashing shield sensors that report the local impact of the enemy volleys. I’ve never felt the Fearless buckle like this before. The enemy firepower is truly incredible.
Yet, the Fearless remains, holding solid on grid. Upholding the honour of Empire and Empress the mighty golden warship surges towards her powerful foe. We can sense the vibrations as her own great weapons return fire.
Cheers erupt as we expect the normal silence to follow, the enemy sliced apart, blasted remains floating dormant in the dead of space.
All sense of victory is rapidly tattered as even stronger incoming fire tears the shields apart, as though knife through paper!
The shield sensors and command panels themselves explode. Fires rage, given extra life by the rich oxygen atmosphere.
Secondary armour plating manage somehow to withstand the onrush of violence. Amarr engineering at its best, but that is the last thing on my mind as I rush through the devastated storage hold to the emergency jettison station. Last resort protocols in place to eject all stores from the cargo hold in the unlikely case of penetration of enemy fire. That includes the shuttles used to ferry duty crew between ship and station.
Desperately I climb aboard the small Amarr shuttle, choking on the quickly spreading smoke. Reaching for the automatic launch controls I plan to auto-jettison the fragile vessel and return to my combat duties in the chaotic cargo hold.
A devastating explosion, a thunderous sound and then darkness.