EVE Fiction

19th May, YC115 - 18:23
Location Classified


The dormant Arbitrator class vessel broods in stand-by, waiting to receive commands that do not arrive from it’s crew. The hulks golden carapace bathed in light from the gigantic star only several astral units away, its glistening hull stands in solitary defiance as a testament of Amarrian engineering against the ancient debris it floats amongst.

It’s tough shell, reinforced with 1600mm thick plates of regal armor, shows no scars of battle. Drones lay sleeping in the ship’s bays, prepared for the day that they would be called upon. Regardless, at some point the battle-ready cruiser had been condemned to the infiniteness of this frozen void, it’s quandary tragically insignificant in the grand schemes of the cluster.

Until, that is, a lone Catalyst appears several kilometers out, decelerating after landing on-grid. Suddenly, the forgotten Arbitrator exists again in a way very real to the paltry crew of this Gallentean destroyer.




19th May, YC115 - 18:23
Location Classified, ‘Battlecat’ - Catalyst


A man of small frame glances around at his unit, who all file into seats around the airlock. He studies the men and the women who he has assembled through deeply lined eyes, betraying a spacefaring career of many years.

“Alright, assholes.” he pipes up. At once, all chattering amongst the environmental suits ceases. A plethora of faceless helmets turn to face him.

The aged Deteis paces back and forth as he addresses the operatives. “This is it, gents. It’s been a long road. I promise you though, after this you’ll all be able to retire with fat bellies.”

The man directs everybody’s attention to several screens overhead, which he coaxes to life with the push of a button on his wrist-mounted console. Shots of the disabled cruiser looming nearby are displayed to the crew at a multitude of angles.

“I’m sure by now you’ve got the gist of things, but just incase you bitches weren’t paying attention the first half-a-dozen times I’ll repeat myself. The Arbitrator you’re looking at was hired to carry some very important cargo for our client. Now, we’re not sure what exactly it is, but we know that it’s tied in to the Insorum booster. In other words, way above your ******* pay-grades.”

Above, the images transition suddenly to exploded blueprints of an Arbitrator, detailing it’s layout and the locations of it’s on-board systems.

“However, he never called in. That’s good for us, because the client - a very affluent Capsuleer no less - still wants their goods.”

Gossip fills the room. The sounds are silenced very quickly by a violent, sweeping motion of the old Deteis’ arms.

“Alright, alright. Seriously, am I going to have to tell you ladies to pipe the **** down every time I say the word ‘Capsuleer’? Look; I can’t say I know why a Capsuleer wants us lowly mercenaries to lend our assistance and for the Kredits they’re willing to line our pockets with I can’t say that I give a ****. Therefore, our task is two-fold.”

His bony finger singles out two of the faceless suits as if having an instinctive knowledge of who occupied them. “Kalevi, as you know you’re leading Team Alpha. Lucas, Bravo.”

Deftly, he points to areas of the ship’s hull on the screens with his wrist device. Parts of the hull light up as he indicates them.

“Alpha, you’re on the primary. The primary is to secure the package. Fortunately, our gracious Capsuleer friend has seen it fit to clue in us mere mortals a bit. We’re looking for a metallic black briefcase. Our friend ensures us that we’ll find this inside a secure freight container within the ship’s hold, so we’re gonna crack it, walk right in and take it.”

“Bravo, secondary. Secondary is to figure out what happened out here. If possible, determine the whereabouts of the crew. There’s a very generous bonus in it for us. The difference for you is going from a retirement to a very comfortable retirement.”

Finally, the Deteis men cracks a smile. “Oh, but remember; either way, we’ll never have to work another damn job again.”




19th May, YC115 - 18:41
Location Classified, Team Bravo, ‘Radiant Dawn’ - Arbitrator


Team Bravo snake through the corridors of the Amarrian hull, a dim orange glow revealing their path. The detachment expertly sweep each room, utilizing pairs to quickly cover multiple areas, however overall moving as one orchestrated entity.

“Emergency lighting.” a broad Lonetrek accent announces. “Ship’s powered down, but looks like vital systems are still running.”

A woman finishes analyzing data being churned out by a handheld Hyasyoda ‘Terraforma’ surveyor and nods in agreement. “Atmosphere is breathable, readings indicate life-support systems are fully functional.”

The figure at the head of the group spares no time in depressing and twisting a lock at the back of his helmet, which causes the piece of headgear to section away into dozens of angular pieces and melt into the collar of his suit. A discrete, almost transparent headpiece continues to adorn the grey-haired yet young man, whose soft, rounded features tell that he was born Gallentean despite the accent he had spoken with.

“Lucas?” the woman asks, brushing her red hair out of her face and pocketing the gadget. Worry is plastered across her narrow features.

19th May, YC115 - 18:43
Location Classified, Team Alpha, ‘Radiant Dawn’ - Arbitrator


Nobody moves.

Finally, a soft skittering sound is heard overhead.

The Civire grunts, “What, that? That could be anything. You gonna interrupt me every -”

A sharp series of metallic clicks rushes past the group above them, as if something with many legs had just raced through the hallway on the upper level. Erund yelps and ducks low, then everybody falls quiet again.

Kalevi watches his Brutor friend through wide eyes, then finally barks with laughter. “Oh, Winds help me, you should see your ******* face! ****, did you just soil your suit?!”

The Brutor smiles nervously and the team wastes no more time in pressing on. Not another word is said about the noise, instead the sounds of their usual banter begin to fill the air again. Erund, however, cannot help but to glance back every so often.




19th May, YC115 - 19:00
Location Classified, Team Bravo, ‘Radiant Dawn’ - Arbitrator


“Oh, ****.” Lucas mutters, the hair on the back of his neck standing to attention.

Lynnette steps into the room after him only to immediately recoil, gagging.

“It’s blooders.” the Gallentean announces. “Commander, come in.”

Before them, what had been the ship’s bridge had been transformed into a temple of perversion. Figures lay out nude and on display all over the large room assembled into formations, rows and rows of pallid bodies, looking completely drained.

Surgical equipment lays littered all over, along with vivid banners hung above emblazoned with Sani Sabik imagery. Lynnette, composing herself, gets a good look at a nearby Ni-Kunni woman who has been spread eagle, noting the puncture marks in her wrists where the blooding equipment had penetrated the flesh.

Bravo Team get what feels like an age to contemplate this morbid spectacle, the bridge of the proud Amarrian vessel that had been twisted into some sick cathedral.

Lucas finally breaks the silence, coming to his senses. “I repeat, commander, come in.”

The young, silver-haired leader turns to his team. Several tense gazes are exchanged between one-another.

An irritated Deteis voice responds “Bravo, come in. What the **** is taking so long? I want a report.”

The group collectively breathe a sigh of relief and Lucas eagerly responds “The crew have been butchered - no, not butchered. Killed, very surgically. Blooded, commander. It’s the Sabik.”

There’s a long pause.

“Bravo? Bravo? Ah, to crap with it. What the damn **** is going on? Damn kids, no respect for their elders these days.”

A frown creases the Gallentean’s scalp. With a short sigh, he delivers the news to his men. “It looks like comms are out. The Commander can’t hear us.”

Lucas takes another look around, only now spotting several dim console screens. With the initial shock stemming from witnessing these horrific sights, he easily overlooked them at first.

“Alright, each of you, start searching the terminals. Something doesn’t add up here.”




19th May, YC115 - 19:03
Location Classified, Team Alpha, ‘Radiant Dawn’ - Arbitrator


“Come on, come on.” Erund snarls, beating his fists on the sides of the console. He glares up at the reinforced bulkhead door that leads into the Arbitrator’s cargo hold.

The hammering above them pounded on and on. The skittering seemed to get closer and closer. Inarticulate voices closed in all around Alpha Team.

The Sebiestor who had first identified the noises keels forwards and hurls. He hadn’t eaten well, is vomit is clear.

“C-can’t you open that thing up any faster?!” Kalevi stammers whilst fiddling with his headpiece. He clears his throat before giving a firm address. “Commander. Come in. We’re getting multiple reports. There’s something... something huge in here chasing us. Commander, please advise.”

The Civire’s eyes dance from side to side, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “Commander? Commander? Commander.”




19th May, YC115 - 19:05
Location Classified, Team Bravo, ‘Radiant Dawn’ - Arbitrator


“The engines,” the Achuran man announces. “The propulsion systems of the Arbitrator were compromised. The warp-core is off-line. I don’t understand, we saw no external signs of-”




19th May, YC115 - 19:05
Location Classified, ‘Radiant Dawn’ - Arbitrator


Both team’s comm lines crackled with a fragmented report.

“This is Command, please stand-by, the Battlecat’s warp-core has suffered a malfunction, preparing to send a distress call. No hostiles, I repeat, no hostiles, primary is still live, primary is -”

19th May, YC115 - 19:35
Location Classified, Team Bravo, ‘Radiant Dawn’ - Arbitrator


“It’s going to be okay.” Lucas assures the small, red-headed woman as he pets her hair, kneeling before the huddled form. The other mercenaries in the room stand around, some over consoles, others mourning or in various states of distress.

And he’s sure that he sees a corpse twitch.

The Gallentean’s eyes widen, the narrow, his pupils dilating. With a snarl, he gets to a stand and levels his rifle at the lifeless body, firing several rounds in quick succession.

With a sickening sound, the carcass explodes, strewing guts and bone shrapnel across the room. Several shadowy figures buzz past the Gallentean’s head faster than his eyes can follow. One by one, each and every body pops, firing entrails into the air like confetti. Hundreds of black shapes fire around the assembled lambs, dropping mercenaries like flies with rapid, pronged attacks from electrocuted barbs, paralyzing their victims.

The screams are drowned out by the beat of thousands of wings in unison. The unprepared and completely surrounded guns-for-hire fill the air with every clip at their disposal, to little avail. Where a drone drops, a dozen more clamour over it’s carcass in an orgy of chitinous clicks, repurposing the damaged circuitry into frankenstein machines like frenzied surgeons.

Other bullets rip through flesh, not metal, due to the mass hysteria. Lynette meets her end when several rounds punch through her chest, extinguishing her life before she can give even a gurgled scream.

Lucas is amongst the last to succumb to the horde’s tasers, hitting the ground like a bag of concrete. A few moments more pass by and then all falls silent, the only movement in the room coming from the twitching of bodies trying desperately to get their limbs to respond.

Unable to will himself to move, he’s forced to watch his fallen love, frozen in place. Tears impotently stream down his face as he tries to apologize, only to find that his voice has been stolen away.




19th May, YC115 - 19:35
Location Classified, Team Alpha, ‘Radiant Dawn’ - Arbitrator


“It’s hot! 3... 2... 1!”

The controlled detonation blows the freight container right open.

Erund cheers triumphantly. His cocky Caldari friend also flashes a fox-like grin. They share a look and for just a moment truly believe that they’re going to see their families again.

All the more shame that the swarms of vicious hornets just beyond that fading veil of smoke had no intention of killing them immediately, then perhaps their dying thought may have been one of happiness and not terrible remorse.




19th May, YC115 - 20:20
Location Classified


A duet of vessels lay paralyzed in the dark wreath of space, waiting to receive commands that do not arrive from their crews. The twin exteriors of glorious gold and rich green stand as two defiant splashes of color on an otherwise black canvas. The two fulcrums stand proudly as testaments to the engineering prowess of the lands that manufactured them.

Their weapons loaded with charges that would never be fired, shield systems pulsing which would never be tested. Tragically, the ships willingness for battle would be in vain, for in all of the hardships of the universe it is a sad but firm fact that these hulls would soon be forgotten, as in time would the lives of those on board.

Capsuleers tend to measure their engagements in numbers of or value of ships destroyed. Yet, they squander away the lives of many, many more of their own human flesh and blood. These losses are rarely important to the Capsuleer. The lives of these people become less than a statistic. For some of these Empyreans, death is an unfortunate necessity. For others, sowing death is a thrill. For many others still, death is brought about by their insane caprice.

A looming industrial ship lands on grid, decorated with the emblem of a delicate flower. It lazily burns towards the duo of ghost ships before boarding with the Battlecat.

Hours pass and then finally the tendrils of the behemoths tractor beams embrace the Arbitrator, forcing it to follow the mysterious, hulking ship into the darkness of the ruins, far into the depths of the debris where even the sun cannot reach.

Deep within the bowels of the ruined structure, many little electronic eyes blink awake. Another sacrifice had been completed.




20th May, YC115 - 01:01
Location Classified


The dormant Catalyst class vessel broods in stand-by, waiting to receive commands that do not arrive from it’s crew...




21st May, YC115 - 19:48
Sirsehin VI, Moon I, Mercantile Club Bereau - Koira Club


Vibrant, disorientating lights pulse in the background. A group of contractors share drinks whilst contemplating their next mark.

A wiry Deteis man laughs as his friend ruffles his ginger hair in congratulations. “Yeah, she said yes! She’s going to marry me. I’m so happy... everything’s been so hard, lately. What, with her being diagnosed with Derj’s disease...”

Across the table, a looming Khanid man studies his datapad. A smile as modest as royalty creeps his lips and he claps for attention from the table. The massive cyber knight composes himself before he speaks, carrying himself with a slow decorum.

“This is... this is going to change everything.” the hardened Khanid nods. He squints at the bottom of the page after scrolling down. That was strange, he thought. No name provided. Just this little emblem of a flower.