EVE Fiction

Life - Part 2
The images accelerate as though trying to hide the truth. The Other and the Empress! Princess Jamyl assassination and subsequent cloned reanimating using recovered Jove technology. Her mind, partly occupied and sometimes dominated by the Other!
Compared to the Other we are mere empty shells. He is the true enemy. Was it is his influence that tore apart ancient Terran relics causing the Seyllin disaster as their cargo of Isogen-5 exploded wiping out entire star systems, ripping open the very fabric of space, creating random wormholes that just happen to lead to the hidden homes of the sleeper communities, Jove held in suspended animation for the day that the Jove disease is defeated.
Like any good capsuleer set upon adventure and exploration it was not long before the Empyreans stumbled upon those same sleep communities. Unknowingly the subsequent looting of these apparent forgotten caches of advanced technology awakens the vengeance of the Jove.
Sleepers seeking the Other? The Other, born seemingly within the Construct itself and now set loose in the mind of an Empress to realise his ultimate goal. His efforts to dominate the Templars, the forerunners of the Dust Warriors. His efforts defeated, but at the loss of the ARV Significance and her gallant crew.
The last desperate efforts of the ARV Significant captain to transmit the mission logs, a warning of what is to come.
My mind wheeling, battered by this rapid series of images I stagger, almost falling as the medical bay doors slide effortlessly open. Two figures rush to my side wearing the expected white lab coats. An old man, with white hair and beard to match excitedly grabs my shoulder. A younger woman, beautiful with long golden hair also helps support me.
Stupidly all I can whisper is ‘Where is my hair?’
Guiding me toward the now open door, they talk more to each other than to me, their supposed patient.
‘It worked’ bubbles the man rapidly.
‘Can’t believe it!’ gasps the woman, excitement almost robbing her ability for speech.
‘Come on old man!’ she adds as she helps me along the station corridor.
Old man! Yes, I remember, I was young before, not blue, no white eyes and I had hair!
‘Where is my hair?’ I repeat idiotically.
‘Sorry, old man. That’s what happens when the DNA strands mix’ she answers quickly.
‘Enough!’ commands an unseen voice behind me. There is a third person, a man I cannot see. Heavy purposeful steps behind me.
It is now that my enhanced senses first make themselves known. I’m in a station adrift in space, there is no background pulse in the decking plates that would otherwise indicate powered flight. The man behind me, a slight clicking as the holster of a hand blaster taps against his military trousers.
I can sense all this, amazing. Even so, in this mere mortal form I am weak, supported by two and followed by one.
Ahead I see the small frigate, an Impairor. Slightly larger than a shuttle, fast, nimble, but weak. Often referred to as a rookie ship, a trainer, suited only for the most basic of interstellar exploration. Like all Amarr ships it is gold, even this small vessel expressing the strength and power of the Amarr Empire.
‘Really you shouldn’t be awake yet’ whispers the woman.
‘Don’t worry, once the memory implants kick in you’ll remember your training’ explains the elderly bearded man, who even though fragile at this time is far stronger than my mere mortal form. His steadying hand on my shoulder guides me towards the awaiting vessel.
‘Your clone is installed in the medical bay of Kew III. If by some unfortunate circumstance you get hit by pirates then your backup clone will instantly animate complete with your memories and a new backup clone will be generated in its place. That of course assumes that your evacuation pod fails to speed you to the safety of the station of your choice’ explains the elderly man, as though repeating a training manual.
I’m an Empyrean! A capsuleer! That explains the pain along my back as a result of the spinal docking clamps that connect me to the automated systems of the pod, the fully automated command centre for any ship that encases it. All this a result of combining Jove technologies, but why do I resemble as Jove and why doesn’t anyone seem to care?
Instead of asking the most pertinent of questions I find myself uselessly repeating the question ‘Where is my hair?’ as the effortlessly lift me into the egg shaped pod that now resides within the Impairor scout ship.
The spinal links snap painfully into place, the pod starts to close, my mind prepares to interface directly with the ships automated systems as my memory implants start to rapidly impart the knowledge necessary to control my new ship.
‘That’s what happens when DNA strands mix’. That phrase dominates the multitude of command signals that fire through my enhanced synapses.

Flight – Part 2
This new life is strange, I am immortal, my powers growing, yet I am alone, shut within my crews quarters, the doors to the main station barred separating immortal from mortal, separating me from any last connections I may have to my old world.
Incoming message scrolling across my communication panels. An unknown agent name ‘Ascendant’. Unusual, Agents normally list their offers and rely upon the capsuleer to make their selection. My feeble blue fingers press the receipt button. Safe within my captain quarters I rely on manual operations, freed for a time from my automated pod control system. It’s a rare period of rest when one can in a small way experience the old feelings of mortal life.
The screen is illuminated by a familiar face, the women from the clone laboratory. Her beautiful face etched with concern, glancing furtively over her shoulder at a younger woman who in turn seems to constantly watch for approaching danger.
Quickly Ascendant speaks ‘Warlock! Finally, it’s you! They know, they know about your interface with the Significance mission logs. They’re coming Warlock!’
‘Who? Do they have my hair?’
‘This isn’t funny, they’re dangerous! Get out of there, get out while you still can!’
Ascendant seemingly reaches for the viewer controls as a sudden metallic clanging dominates audio. The viewer image starts to break up in a series of short and prolonged screen blackouts and finally dies completely.
Quickly I put plans into motion. Commands are sent to sell all items I can and reprocess those I can’t. My trusty Catalyst is fuelled and armed, its small cargo hold brimming with the few items I choose to take with me.
My flight is planned, first Shedoo then on to Finanar, try to get as much distance between myself and the Amarr covert operations team who must even now be on their way. In a way it’s exciting, moving on, exploring the many realms of Eve.
The exit to the pod, which is safely installed within my Catalyst is fully automated and rapid in nature. The escape route is plotted and the navigation systems are fully online. I even have an auto undocking bookmark set, which allows my vessel to escape safely from the massive station that for a short period I called home.
The escape is simple and uneventful, except for the slight tell-tail markings on the local grid that for an instance reveal the Amarr covert operations vessel that seems to shadow my every move. Aligning rapidly to the route of gates that will hopefully lead me to safety my trusty Catalyst punches its way into warp.
A series of repetitive jumps later, each shadowed by the Amarr vessel which now seems to have abandoned all efforts to hide itself I have the Shedoo gate on the grid. It’s then that I see them. My first view was fleeting on a scanner aboard the ill-fated Fearless just prior to combat with the Drifters. There are three of them and the Drifter ships move, seemingly to block my way.

Death – Part 1
There’s nothing quite like Ice! It hovers in great chunks deep within space, beautifully reflecting the distant sunlight. Ice, one of the two critical components to the manufacture of fuel blocks which power the many space stations that dot the systems of Eve.
Ice, the scene of countless battles as Empyrean Corporations battle relentlessly over this valuable resource.
It has a strange soothing effect as my shield tanked Procurer ship bores its way through the fragile surface of the Ice, seeking the valuable resources hidden within. It can be a slow process, a time to relax and survey the many news channels that monitor the ever changing political situation in Eve.
Eve 24, Scope and the Mittani to name but three. A valuable source of information, all fixated by the growing aggression of the Drifter menace and the war that even now erupts with the Amarr Empire. The Empress is often in the news, as she rallies her people against the growing threat. The other empires and Corporations stand idly by as the might of the Amish war machine is thrown against the most powerful of foes.
Loyal Empyrean forces rally to hold the thin golden line against the darkness that the Drifters seem to represent. My mind focuses on a recent newscast ‘Empress Jamyl to commission the new Imperial Navy Flagship Auctoritas in the Safizon system.’
There’s an old Terran proverb that goes something like ‘Loose lips, sink ships’. It’s odd that certain phrases should survive the collapse of the Eve gate and the long dark centuries that followed. I quickly focus on my grid scanner.
Danger lurks throughout Eve, one is never truly safe, except of course that we are Immortal. Some say that the Ice is cursed, that it draws away the mind of the immortal. Are you still immortal without a mind? There must be some truth in the story for even now I can feel my mind beginning to drift.
Some have a code of conduct, they are marauders, ever seeking out those whose minds have been totally lost to the Ice and its riches that surround them. They hunt in packs, ‘suicide ganking’ those who fail to follow their code of conduct.
To ‘suicide gank’ – a strategy where multiple attackers in cheap disposable vessels capable of inflicting high damage over a short period target a single victim. The aim to destroy the victim before Concord security forces destroy the aggressor vessels. Upon destruction of their ships the ‘gankers’ return to loot the area, including sometimes their own remains.
Again, my mind drifts as I take in the automated information provided by the Evelopedia function.
‘Evelopedia’ – a collection of all lore relating to operations and knowledge within the Eve…..
Annoyed, I mentally turn off the Evelopedia feature and again consider the Empress. The report names the location, time and even the name of the ship she will be flying during the commissioning of the Flagship Auctoritas! Loose lips sink ships, the Amarr security forces have surely never heard of such a phrase.
Then suddenly, three red signals enter the local grid. Three catalysts, these code followers intent on seeking out the weak! So much danger. My mind not totally lost to the ice I quickly set my emergency protocols in motion. I’m fortunate, I fly a heavily shielded Procurer miner, am aligned to the station and slowly drifting in that direction. This allows me to rapidly enter warp, but to my left a Covetor, a less well protected mining vessel succumbs to the rapid firing blasters of the attacking Catalysts.
As my ship leaves the carnage behind, the horrible truth dawns. The Empress, loose lips sink ships, the Other, the Drifters, the danger! I must warn her, but the Amarr have disavowed me, they will surely refuse any attempt at communication. There is only one course of action open, I must travel with all haste to the Safizon system.
It seemed hopeless. One capsuleer and his small ship trying to prevent a cataclysm. There is one faint chance. I look like a Jove, I can fly a Jove Battlecruiser called the Gnosis. It’s expensive, one of few reminders of the power of the Jove, but really a pale shadow of the glory and strength of the Jove Imperial Navy.
They may listen to a representative of a seemingly dead race. It is time to put my blue skinned, pale eyed, aged and balding features to good use! Backed up by a fully fitted Gnosis warship I may be able to convince Amarr security of the danger facing the Imperial visit.
Funding such an extravagant purchase pushes my finances to the limit. There is little time to optimise the purchase of the essential equipment to allow it safe travel through the trade routes of Eve. It is not unknown for ‘Gankers’ to target such expensive vessels, but time is pressing, I must warn the Empress of the danger that awaits her.

Seekers
Where is my hair? I smile at this thought and then suddenly I remember Ascendant and her warning. It is seemingly easy now to access secure Amarr research files, maybe the almost complete shut-down of my cortex functions eases the interface process? My face plate glows and warms as my mind penetrates the many fire walls that bar my route.
Project Warlock – The attempt to merge Jove DNA with an Amarrian sole survivor of first contact with Drifter forces by the AWS Fearless. Subject Warlock aged prematurely, but gained apparent ability to interface directly with computer systems. Subject to be terminated due to gaining unrestricted access to ARV Significance mission logs. Project status inactive, subject disavowed after the Shedoo incident.
Shedoo incident – Subject Warlock observed attempting to communicate with Drifter forces. Subject disavowed and all subsequent pursuit halted after numerous Amarrian Imperial Warships were lost in the resultant engagement with Drifter forces.
Project Ascendant – Second attempt to merge Jove DNA with subject Ascendant, former research scientist assigned to Tew III research facility. Subjects’ younger sister Centuria appears more susceptible to Jove grafting technology. Project status active, final results pending.
Just as quickly the interface is disrupted, I sense immediately that some third party has physically terminated the communication path to the research archives whose contents I have only briefly accessed.
It is all too brief, for there was no indication of the location of the Project Ascendant research facility. It is highly doubtful that they would continue operations at the original cloning facility, especially as they know of my mysterious ability to interface, at the most random of times, directly with mainframe hardware.
I recall the last desperate transmission from the brave Ascendant whose intervention no doubt saved my life. If only the communications had not been terminated so suddenly. It’s odd that the visual communication channel with Ascendant was able to remain open so long, when my advanced interface technique can be severed so quickly.
Quickly I play back the message from Ascendant and that must be her brave younger sister Centuria in the background? Then I notice something that completely escaped me at the time. It wasn’t interference from external agencies trying to sever our communications. It was Ascendant herself, reaching forward and manually turning the visual communications on and off!
Why? Then sudden dawning, a message, a code, maybe a warning? Desperately I focus my mind, face plates warming slightly, just enough to determine the meaning. Coordinates, coordinates of the other research institution.
I am alone now, but with a new purpose. I am a seeker. I failed the Empress, but Ascendant and Centuria shall not suffer a similar fate. The navigation computer updates with the new coordinates. The route is not easy, it takes me through low and even null sectors, dangerous systems where only the brave or stupid dare travel. Casually I wonder if maybe I am both.
As the Gnosis turns on its new heading warp engines activating, a reminder of the mighty Jove Empire that once amazed Eve with its technological power my attention shifts finally back to my current surroundings.
My companions seem transfixed and I notice suddenly that my face plate is cooling just as theirs are diming. Their eyes suddenly alive, excitedly focus suddenly realising that for the first time we have interfaced directly with each other. My story transferred not through speech, but via a direct neural interface.
I look at the control table before me, this entire story has taken but a mere 60 seconds to communicate.
Excitedly Ascendant leans forward saying ‘So, old man! Come on, tell us, how did you rescue us?’
Centuria folds her arms in front of her watching me cautiously.
I stand slowly, hands clasped firmly behind me as I walk stiffly to the window that overlooks the docking bay below. Several small transport vessels have just entered the bay, Sultanate and my Caldari friends delivering the next batch of ice to be compressed.
It is good to have such friends, especially friends willing to follow you into darkness, into fire and the dangers within. To the right of their loading bay, three large vessels rest at sleep, hidden by the shadow of the robotic loaders. Three Gnosis, elegant, sleek, expensive and rare. A reminder of a time when the Jove traded freely with the empires and Corporations of Eve. A time that one day may return, for there is still hope.
‘Please old man, do tell’ whispers Centuria.
I turn towards them smiling ‘That daughters is a tale for another day!’
‘We have work to do, friends to greet. They have come a long way and need our help.’
Then as I turn back to the window, watching as the automated compressors power up, I add ‘We are only three, but we are no longer alone.’