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Vengeance of the State – Part 2

Published on 13. Nov, 2009 ... written by Jaret Kosht.

Picture credit: Wotlankor

Goresh Forsan, senior commander of the orbital canon control facility, watched as reports flooded in detailing excessive damage to the facility and mounting casualties. Through a implant in his brain, he had access to live feeds from cameras located in the forest, and watched as one by one the camera blinked out. Another implant gave him top command of the attack drones and he ordered their deadly swarms to find the snipers. Around him officers barked out orders and updates pertaining to the situation

Without a pause for thought, Forsan declared a code red, alerting the nearby garrison for support. He was ready to order the MTAC’s to continue their advance into the forest, when a priority alarm was broadcast over the speakers.

“They’re inside!!” A voice screamed over the comms “We need backup, sector 22…”. Forsan flinched as he heard a shot ring out over the comms. Quickly accessing the database, Forsan started to sweat as he looked the thermal scans of operating rooms, that would be usually be warm with the body heat of technicians and soldiers, instead registered cold corpses.

“Dear God…” He murmured “those bastards are inside”

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At the rallying point for the GSF forces, instead of the quiet discipline of an assembled regiment rang out the roars and cries of battle. The Pathfinders carved their way through GSF forces, using assault rifles, shotguns and even knives. Soon the heat of battle gave way to the cold stillness of death, as the wounded moaned and the dead remained silent. The surviving Pathfinders, quickly restocked their ammunition, counted their dead and killed the wounded Gallente. One Pathfinder sergeant noticed that their leader, Jaret Kosh’t was missing. The odds of him fleeing the battle were low, as the Caldari honor code forbade leaving one’s comrades behind.

Mystified as to where Jaret could be, the sergeant surveyed the corpse littered zone, taking note of a hole in the wall. As several Pathfinders surveyed the area, they knew that they had to regain the initiative. They were ready to press on their attack, when out of nowhere they heard a loud bang.
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As Jaret’s vision began to blacken, in a move borne out of desperation, he whipped out his knife and started to stab furiously. Cold Caldari vibrosteel punctured skin, slashed flesh and yet the giant Brutor still maintained his grip. As Jaret looked into the Brutor’s eyes, he noticed blue streaks the ran through his eyeballs, as a portion of the Pathfinder’s mind ascertained that the giant was high on some cocktail of combat boosters and drugs.

Desperately, Jaret started clawing at the giants immense arms, desperately trying every possible technique to gain some release from the giant. Instead the giant’s deadly grin grew even wider, as he became amused at Jaret’s feeble attempts.

Deciding that he was out of options, Jaret’s arms clutched at his combat vest and he activated a grenade and shoved it at the giant’s face. As the world around him flashed bright white, Jaret’s managed to croak a final insult.

“Suck it.”

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Blinded by the amazingly bright light and load noise that assaulted his senses, the giant released the Pathfinder with a howl of pain. Ironically, the Brutor’s cocktail of stims and drugs, which had been designed to boost his senses, now worked against him. The already bright light and loud noise, generated by the flashbang, were now magnified a hundred times more, as his mind reeled from the barrage of sensory information. Pain and noise now dominated his mind, as he staggered back from the Pathfinder

Swining his Khuumak his circles, the Brutor sought to kill that slippery Caldari, whose head was only inches underneath the giants arcs. As he slowly regained his senses, he noticed in the corner of his eye, a soldier clad in camo gear, slowly take aim and fire. Times seemed to slow to crawl as the magnetically charged slug tore across the space between the soldier and the Brutor giant. The slug slowly twirled through the air and with the force of a ten-ton hammer, penetrated his skull. All the giant was able to was let loose a final roar of defiance, as his vision turned to red, black and then nothing.

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Prashesh and the Pathfinder sergeant regarded the Brutor giant, who was now missing his skull, thanks to the fact that both soldiers had fired at the giant at the same moment. With a silent nod, Prashesh took the lead, as the sergeant quickly pulled Jaret to his feet. The woozy captain, managed to sputter out a sentence, in a somewhat shocked tone.

“What?” he gasped, as the sergeant quickly gave him a shot of adrenaline “I’m not dead?!”

Prashesh, who had slung his sniper rifle behind his back, now wielded a shotgun. As he led the troops through the facility, he grimly assessed what his HUD was telling him. Their strength had been now reduced to three quarters, the act of fighting a numerically superior force and one with overwhelming firepower had started to take its toll on the Pathfinders. Yet they had to press on, failure was not an option.

Yes, Prashesh thought, as he blasted an unlucky Gallente into oblivion, Failure is not an option.

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The control centre was an example of organized chaos, with officers barking orders over comms. Forshan snapped concise commands over the comm network, ordering his attack drones to enter the facility, an operation for which the machines were not designed.

Over the network, a Gallente admiral contacted Forshan and confirmed that a regiment of the Gallente army was on its way. Soldiers armed with assault rifles and machine guns, backed up with MTACs and tanks were on their way. Still, Forshan knew that it would take them fifteen minutes to reach his position, and he knew a lot could happen in that time.

As he furiously tried to realign his forces, he noted that his sensors, which had registered the deadly progress at which the invading forces had made, indicated that they had come to a complete stop. Perhaps fortune had smiled on him finally.

However these would Forshan’s final thoughts as a hole was punched underneath him and he noticed in the corner of his vision, a rocket soar through the gap, pause in midflight and then detonate. A wave of heat and pain crawled up his legs, his arms, his head and finally there was nothing.

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With the help of rappelling lines, the assault team ascended into the main control room. As they surveyed the control room, they took in the carnage that had been unleashed by the lone rocket. Pieces of armor had been tossed around the room, shrapnel laced bodies hung at every possible angle. Officers, many of whom had died where they were, lay all over the place, their hands clutching their sidearm at a desperate final attempt to fight death.

Prashesh, quickly redeployed his snipers, along the rooftops of the facility and the surrounding vegetation. As he rushed to his new position, he noted Jaret slowly approach the central console

Jaret woozily approached the central console, pushing aside a corpse that had definitely seen better days. He carefully extracted a disk from his combat vest, inserted it into the central console and began to pray.
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As the program slowly inched its way out from the disk, it quickly began its purpose. It primary purpose was to “update” the central computer’s security network with the “latest” definition of computer threats. After the central computer ascertained the nature of the program and deemed it ‘friendly’, the program quietly went to work updating the threat database. After it finished its task, the program than shut itself down, having deemed its task done.

While the program itself did no damage, however what it had unleashed would be the digital equivalent of telling a city’s police forces that the mayor was the head of galactic terrorist, serial killer, megalomaniac conspiracy. Almost immediately, the drone brain registered these new threats, as they suddenly numbered in the thousands, and quickly sent out hunter killer programs to destroy these new threats to its existence.

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As the Pathfinders watched, the drone brain slowly tore itself apart, as its own hunter killer programs began to destroy key components of its own infrastructure. Finally the drone brain shut down, as it own support was destroyed

This of course would have been the moment when the Pathfinders would have celebrated, when they heard the buzzing of attack drones.

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Flying through the corridors at speeds unimaginable, the drone’s sensors began feeding their brains information. Thermal scanners noted the warm trail of blood and gore that marked the progress of the Pathfinders. Imaging sensors fed them pictures of expended rounds and broken bodies. Combat control system began to spin their razor sharp chainsaws, as they approached their destination. With jet black insectoid bodies, glowing red eyes, spinning chainsaws and measuring almost the size of human, they were death incarnate.

As Jaret Kosh’t spun around, it seemed that once again the Grim Reaper had marked him for death. As the swarm of drones entered the control room, time seem to freeze. His eyes registered the spinning blades that these drones wielded, their blood red eyes and the terrifying visage. His hands, borne out years of training, yanked his pistol out of his holster. In a smooth motion, he drew the pistol and began to fire.

All around him the roar of shotguns and rifles erupted, as man fought machine. Sensors exploded, limbs were lost as the deadly Pathfinders and the cold attack drones fought each other. One attack drone grabbed an unlucky soldier and began to rip into him. His partner, desperately fired an anti armor grenade, the resulting explosion engulfing all three of them. Jaret kept firing his pistol, as he desperately tried to avoid the deadly blades of the drones.

One Pathfinder sergeant, having been, tackled by a drone, desperately raised his shotgun to deliver the blow. It was for naught as the drone, smacked it out of his hands and began to move in on him. The sergeant, a grizzle veteran, pulled a specially marked grenade from his vest and detonated it. Waves of heat and electromagnetic interference pulsed out from it destroying both the sergeant and his robotic attacker.

The official policy on usage of EM grenades was to never use them in close proximity to human beings. This was due to the fact that the EM pulse, while designed to render electronic and mechanical equipment inoperable, could cause damage the human nervous system. Many soldiers who had been exposed to EM radiation suffered nervous twitches, damaged brains and scar tissue.

This point was rendered moot to the Pathfinders, as they desperately began to throw EM grenades at their attackers. Waves of EM radiation spread through the room overloading circuits, destroying computer systems and breaking down the attack drones. One by one, the attack drones began to fall to the ground, their circuits overwhelmed by the barrage of Electromagnetic interference.

For the first time in hours, the control room was finally silent. The Pathfinders quietly regarded their dead robotic foes and then went to work. Wounded were attended to and the dead were pushed aside as Jaret struggled to reorganize his team. As he quietly regarded the corpse of his sergeant, Jaret ordered a young lieutenant to dispose of the drones. Jaret ordered another lieutenant to contact the snipers and organize runners. The EM grenades had knocked out the assault team’s electronic equipment, which included scopes and comms. While some of the equipment could be reset, Jaret knew that for now they would depend on the sniper’s equipment.

“Captain” the lietentant he had sent to contact the snipers breathlessly reported “Prashesh reports enemy advances towards our position”

“What is the nature of this advance?” Jaret queried the shaking lieutenant. The EM pulses are already starting to take their toll on her, as Jaret noticed her hands were shaking.

“Infantry divisions, tanks and MTACs” The lieutenant responded “And a shitload of them too!!”

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Vengeance of the State – Part 1

Published on 11. Nov, 2009 ... written by Jaret Kosht.

Picture credit: Wotlankor

The magnetically charged slug burst out from LDR sniper rifle and charged across the vast gap from hunter to the hunted. Despite all this energy expended, there is only muffled crack that could be heard.

The slug, propelled with immense energy, pierces its target. The ballistic impact of the slug alone kills the target. However the slug is not finished. As it penetrates the skull, tiny explosives implanted in the slug, detonate. The result, needless to say, is immensely effective. The buffalo immediately keeled over, sans head, its corpse smashing the ground with the force of a miniature earthquake.

Jaret’s eyes focused; as he watched the buffalo herd begin the move. Without their leader, the herd wouldn’t know what to do. Any creature that had just watched their leader have its head removed would start to have doubts about the safety of it current position.

Prashesh, Jaret’s right hand man and close friend, fired another round. Another buffalo collapsed, this time missing a leg. As the sounds of the animal’s excruciating pain rang out through the forest, the herd collectively decided that enough was enough.

With what started with a few individuals, soon spread to the thousands. Soon, the thousand strong herd of buffalo began to stampede through the forest. Trees, bushes and even predatory animals were crushed in their path, as the herd sought to escape the hand of death that had so clearly killed their leader.
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Within the recesses of the control centre, within the banks of computers a program stirred. In a matter of seconds it registered information from sensors that something very large was moving towards the facility. With blinding speed, it quickly compared the mass of the object to data gleaned from the immense rows of databanks it had at its disposal. Confused, by what it found, it immediately sent out an alert to the operator.

One tired Gallente technician, who was looking forward to his warm bed, was annoyed at the insistent beeping his console gave out. With a snarl of annoyance he glanced at the readouts. What he saw puzzled and confused him. The readouts indicated that huge, swarming mass was approaching the facility. Activating one of the cameras, he was stunned by what he saw. A large, teeming mass of Striped Buffalos was fast approaching the facility.

________________________________________

You are completely insane a part of Jaret’s mind drily noted.

To anyone else, would have considered Jaret was truly insane. Instead of staying clear of the mighty striped buffalo, as any sane individual would, he was leading his team after the herd.

As part of the assault element of his company, he had loaded his Medium Assault Rifle (MAR) with explosive rounds. Light enough to be carried into battle and close combat; it had enough firepower to blow through 5 layers of durasteel. While usually Jaret avoided using explosive rounds, for they had a nasty tendency spew out shrapnel at the shooter, he knew that the first moments of the assault would be key in order to overwhelm the guards. The respective squad leaders of the assault element had armed themselves also with explosive rounds.

It was in complete silence, that the assault element of the Pathfinders charged towards their objective, under the watchful cover of their brother snipers. There was no roar of aggression, no furious flag waving, as the holo-reels loved the depict it. Instead there was silent mass of half ghost, half human creatures that charged towards the perimeter. At approximately ten metres from the facility, they dropped to their knees and placed round black objects to the ground, in a circular pattern.

Jaret sought cover behind an old tree. After quick glance and having deemed the assault elements of the company secure, he detonated the explosives.
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Prashesh, watched all of this through his scope. He watched as the assault element charged through the forest. He watched as Jaret detonated the explosives. He watched as the assault team dove into the immense hole that had been created. Then it was time to stop watching and to start shooting.

As members of the Gallente Security Forces Kommandoes charged to their posts, Prashesh selected one unlucky soldier. With a move borne out of years of training and experience, he adjusted his aim and in a smooth motion pulled the trigger.

CRACK!!! One Kommando had his head removed.

CRACK!! One unlucky officer, who had been screaming instructions into her headpiece, also lost her head.

CRACK!!! One of the mini-sentries burst into pieces as the slug tore it apart, through sheer force alone.

CRACK! CRACK! Two more GSF soldiers fell to his deadly aim.

In distance, Prashesh, saw platoons of soldiers rally for a counter attack and MTAC operators rush to their machines

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! A flurry of shots from the snipers, ensured that four MTAC operators never reached their mounts.

The foliage around his position began to snap and break, as a GSF soldier had undoable zeroed in on his position and had begun to open fire.

With a snarl Prashesh, swung his rifle around and in one smooth motion fired a deadly shot.

________________________________________

Jaret’s heart pounded as the assault team charged through the corridors. Splotches of blood and corpses marked their path, a testament to the ferocity of their assault. As they surged through the corridors, the Pathfinders, never paused for a second, blasted anyone unlucky to be in their path. Gallente soldiers, officers and even unarmed technicians fell to their wrath, as the State finally exacted its vengeance for the occupation its homeworld.

Rounding the corner, the Pathfinders slammed into a stunned assembly of GSF troops, whom were undoubtedly rallying for a counter attack, against the Caldari Snipers outside. Responding within seconds, a fact that would have made their instructors proud, the Pathfinders opened fire with a barrage of fire.

WHAP! WHAP! Without thought or remorse, Jaret selected an unfortunate GSF soldier and fire two rounds in their head.

WHAP! WHAP! Another enemy soldier received two rounds in the neck

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! One GSF officer, received three rounds in the stomach, collapsing to the ground as his entrails bled out.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! Jaret continued to fire, lost in the heat of battle, firing rounds and taking cover every couple of seconds. Leading his comrades, they slowly advanced down the corridor, pouring death and destruction into the unfortunate Gallente soldiers. The defenders bravely held their ground and soon both sides met each in hand to hand combat.

Grenades flew through the air, releasing bursts of searing heat and deadly shrapnel. Rounds slammed into their targets, as both sides began fire into each other. Slugs ripped through armor and flesh, maiming or killing their targets. Armor systems pushed to their max, pumping biofoam into open wounds, as even more rounds smashed into them. Knives were wielded and plunged into the necks, armpits or groins of unlucky soldiers. Wounded warriors, continued to fire and fight where they lay, determined to drag their enemy with them into the abyss of death.

Blood splattered onto the nearby walls as soldiers all around him, shot and grappled with each other. Within seconds Jaret’s HUD indicated that he was down to his last round. As if fate had conspired against him, Jaret came face to face with a very large and very angry Brutor.

No doubt a mercenary, the Brutor giant smashed an unlucky Pathfinder with an immense Khuumak. The giant’s blood red amour had ragged holes that had been punched into it. In his enormous hands, he held the Khuumak, which was caked with blood. With a snarl the Brutor, a mere half metre away from Jaret, surged towards him like ravenous predator eager to devour its prey.

With a smooth motion Jaret aimed for the giant and fired his last round. But it seemed fate had marked Jaret for death, for in an impossible move, the giant swatted the round aside as if it were a fly, with his Khuumak.

Desperately Jaret reached for his knife, but a part of his mind knew it would be too late.

“Oh fuu…” Jaret managed to mumble, before the giant smashed into him and propelled him through a wall. The impact alone sent stars twirling into Jaret’s field of vision. Were it not for his armor, Jaret’s internal organs would have been liquefied by the impact. The giant, then picked Jaret up from the floor and lifted him up to regard his face

The bastard wants to choke me to death Jaret’s shocked mind managed to piece together, as he looked onto the grinning battle visage of the Brutor. The giant’s tattoos seemed to pulsate, as the giant’s grin became even wider. With a slow but gradually increasing pressure, the giant began to increase pressure on Jaret’s neck, and the Pathfinder’s world began to gradually darken.

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Were it not for his HUD, Prashesh would have lost track of the number of kills he had rung up since the start of his operation. For the past hours, he had settled into a pattern of selecting a target and firing at it. All around him his fellow snipers, created chaos, confusion and death for the enemy. In the air, hung the smell of death, as GSF squads struggled to flush out the snipers and paid dearly for it. Gallente MTAC’s crashed to ground or into the nearby trees as railgun rounds smashed through their leg joints or into the operator’s hatch.

Prashesh, had ordered his snipers to change their positions every couple of shots to prevent the enemy from getting a fix on them. The end result was that the Gallente were desperately clutching at straws, in order to catch an invisible but deadly enemy.

However, that was not to say it was easy. Prashesh had seen his sniper’s forces reduced by a quarter, as overwhelming Gallente firepower reduced unlucky comrades to shreds. Then of course there were the battle drones.

Like a creature that had been unleashed from hell, these battle drones were a nightmare on the battlefield. Possessing an array of weapons that included auto-cannons and deadly disturbingly chain saws, these drones were truly the robotic specter of death. Possessing an appearance, that could only be described as both insectoid and disturbing, their optic clusters glowed red, as they floated through the air. Prashesh had seen the drones rip through his comrades with a robotic determination. The chain saws ripped through foliage and flesh, reducing both to slivers in a matter of minutes.

Only a few seconds earlier, could only watch helplessly as one of his comrades, a young lady became the target of a drone. As he watched helplessly, she had done the only thing possible and detonated her grenades, destroying the drone as it grappled with her and mercifully ending her agony.

Prashesh, therefore did the only logical thing at that moment. He ordered his remaining snipers to dive into the hole that had been created by the assault team. He could only hope that the cover afforded by the facility would help to protect them from the overwhelming Gallente firepower.

Without a word, the snipers quickly abandoned their positions and charged towards the hole, leaving mines and claymores in their wake. As Prashesh dived into the darkness, he prayed that he hadn’t made a rash decision.

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Vengeance of the State – Introduction

Published on 09. Nov, 2009 ... written by Jaret Kosht.

Picture credit: Wotlankor

He slowly made his way to the bar, brushing past a small group of chatting pod-pilots. With a hand that trembled with experiences that threatened to overwhelm his senses, he motioned to the dour faced bartender for a drink. With a face that’s had seen too many tragic experiences for one so young, he ordered a strong Intaki rum, with brown sugar and hot water.

Jaret Kosh’t scanned the room around him as he waited for his drink, he noticed in the corner of the room a new holo-reel showcasing the grand military parade that circled the planet of Caldari Prime. He listened as the newscaster babbled some nonsense about this being the day being the third anniversary of the liberation of Caldari Prime. He listened for some time as the newscaster continued to list the ‘technical’ malfunctions that shut down the Gallente orbital planetary defense system.

I guess that’s what they call it now, Jaret thought as he accepted he drink from the bartender

As Jaret stared at the golden liquid that was in glass, his mind went back three years back in time and space, back from the dark bar on some dingy station low-sec space to the forests of Caldari Prime.

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Three Years Earlier

Within his camo suit, Captain Jaret Kosh’t, of the Pathfinder Legion of the Caldari State Marines, slowly made himself more comfortable. He had positioned his company of elite Pathfinders throughout this forest on Caldari Prime. In the weeks before they had quietly infiltrated the planet, usually under the guise of being students, business executive or in some cases Scope News reporters. When they arrived on planet, they would usually link up with one of the Caldari Provists that were sprinkled throughout the populace.

Many members of the Caldari Navy had an opinion on the Heth’s provists. To some they were merely undisciplined thugs or maniacs, capable of doing more harm then good to the State. To others they were patriots, who were willing to do anything for the State. Jaret, in line with that of the military leadership, viewed these provists as nuisance, since they were more than likely to screw up a mission for some misplaced act of patriotism.

In the days and weeks since Tibus Heth’s ascension to power, these Provists now became commonplace. They now sprung in positions of leadership or power. They sprung up in the most unlikely of places as well, with the rank and file of office workers, factory workers and the Navy.

Caldari Prime soon became a focus of Heth’s efforts. Lost to the Gallenete Federation during the Freedom Wars, it now was a vassal of the Federation. Positioned behind the Tripwire sensor system, that protected the Federation from any aggressive moves, the Navy had put aside any dreams of liberating the planet. With Heth in power now, that all changed. Soon rumors circulated among the military leadership that there was a way to disable the Tripwire system. However that was not why the Pathfinders were on Caldari Prime.

What concerned the Navy’s leadership even more, was the fact of the orbital canons, which circled Caldari Prine. While, usually, human hands would control these orbital canons, however the Gallente decided on a different approach. The Gallente’s advanced knowledge with regards to drone technology made these canons were more precise, more accurate than anything a human being could hope for. Hence the Gallente had decided to control all the orbital canons via a control centre that was located in an innocuous forest on Caldari Prime.

The Gallente were so confident in their system that they had decided to move a majority of their fleet from the orbit of the planet. They had good reason to. Capable of launching a variety of ordinance, that included bombs, railgun rounds and cruise missiles, the orbital canons in a matter of minutes would shred any hostile fleet to bits. Many a Caldari Admiral had spent sleepless nights worried about the presence of these orbital canons.

These canons were controlled through a drone control system, located in a formidable control centre. Hidden in a remote forest on Caldari Prime, the fortress was defended by crack Gallente Defense Force Kommandoes guarding it whom were backed up with battlefield MTACs. What made it even more difficult was the fact that there was an additional garrison at edge of the forest, no doubt filled with even more Gallente soldiers and armor.

While it was largely intended that the hidden fortress was to remain from prying eyes, the Caldari Navy had found it. By using data collected from capsuleers who had made cargo runs to the planet, they had found that a significant amount of plasma gel was earmarked for a small resort.

What made it even more interesting was the fact that the resort, had been shut down for past three years. Knowing the Gallente, a pleasure resort shut down for more than a week was very odd. What made it even more interesting that the was that thermal scans later sureptiously conducted by contracted capsuleers, revealed that a portion of the resort was far cooler than the other areas, including the forest.

This could only mean, that there was something more to the resort than what meets the eye. Hence why a company of Pathfinders was hidden in the forests surrounding the ‘resort’.
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The Pathfinders, represented the finest fighting force available to the Caldari State. They were trained to operate with a variety of tactics that included jungle warfare, zero g combat and covert operations. They were harbingers of death and destruction to the State’s enemies, be they Gallente spies or Minmatar terrorists. They were the bane of the Guristas, the terror of the Sashas and the nightmare of the Serpentis. They were the wrath of the State, the guardians of the Caldari and the sharp tip of the Caldari State Marines.

However what made the Pathfinders truly elite, was the pool of knowledge they had their disposal. Many Pathfinders had graduated from some of the finest Universities in the State, only to turn their back on a corporate career and join the Caldari State Marines. If they passed the requisites and the grueling training, they were then accepted into the Pathfinder Legion. Hence each Pathfinder not only knew how to effectively create mayhem and destruction, but potentially had knowledge on other matters such as accounting or engineering.

Jaret Kosh’t, as a Pathfinder, wielded some of the finest equipment the State could afford to provide his men. The Pathfinders received training and equipment from all the mega corporations that made up the Caldari State. Some of them wielded the MAR (Medium Assault Rifle), complete with optics, manufactured by the Ishukone Corporation. Others wielded the LDR (Long Distance Railgun), a sniper’s rifle, which shot rounds of dense, magnetically charged permasteel. Every one of them, carried knives that were forged with cold Caldari steel. The Lai Dai Corporation manufactured their armored camo suits, which now reflected the environment surrounding them. They all had received training from the finest instructors within all the mega-corporation’s security forces.

For the past two weeks they had quietly observed their target, a large sprawling resort set close to the forest. They watched as the supposed ‘construction’ crews, which were oddly made up of military age men and women, entered and left the facility. The previous years of peace had made the Gallente forget how to properly hide a military facility.

However tonight would be different. According to his Provist contact, the Navy planned to strike in the early hours of the morning, in order to minimize civilian, primarily Caldari, casualties. Hence they had only that night, to secure the command centre and hold it before reinforcement would arrive. Jaret, suffered no illusions if they should fail.

Over two and half kilometers away from the facility, Jaret and his partner Prashesh, lined up their targets. The plan was that the Pathfinders, would insert into the facility, by moving through the nearby forest. While undoubtedly there would be sensors system hidden in the forest, the Provists had suggested a radical plan to counter the sensors. They would force the nearby herd of Striped Buffalo to stampede.

Weighing in at about a ton and with a height of five meters and a length of four meters, the striped buffalo were not to be trifled with. In fact when the Provists had suggested the plan, Jaret almost laughed it off. But the more he discussed it with his comrades, the more it made sense. If they did manage to force the herd to stampede, it would mean that the sensor operators would be overloaded with a barrage of sensory information, thus giving cover for his Pathfinders to infiltrate the facility.

Hence, this was the reason why Jaret Kosh’t ordered his best sniper Prashesh Kobai to aim the finest piece of military equipment, that there was, at the head of a dumb buffalo. The digital scope fed the sniper information regarding wind, elevation, temperature and angle. Despite all the technology, it still came down to the skill of the operator to aim and pull the trigger.

Thus the opening shots of the Battle of Caldari Prime, were fired from by a Pathfinder at the head of a buffalo.

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Space Captain Starke and the Refugees of Ubtes

Published on 31. Oct, 2009 ... written by Shae Tiann.

His Zealot’s shields were completely gone, and lasers were nibbling at the edges of his armour when Alistair’s comms crackled to life.

‘Hey, Al, would you do us a favour?’

‘Good to hear you, Syl. You’re not back in Dal, are you?’

‘Our tower in Ebodold. We’re going to step this up a bit. Open the door for us, would you? We’re too chunky to squeeze through the gates.’ Sylar sounded gleeful. Alistair started to grin.

‘I did warn you about the food there, didn’t I?’ The Amarrian pilot reopened his fleet comms. ‘Commander Hatthro, notify the fleet, I’m lighting a cynogen, could use a bit of defense.’

‘You’re what?!’

‘Captain Starke, you are go in three, two, one…’ Alistair activated the generator, the load of liquid ozone in his cargo hold burned up in an instant as the miniature wormhole appeared beside his ship.

‘Avion! What the hell…?’ Tiia demanded, just as the jump portal flared twice.

Two looming shapes the colour of dried blood appeared in the midst of the battle, massive hulls scattering smaller ships which hadn’t got out of the way in time as they claimed the space. Cherry’s blade-shaped, monolithic Naglfar, towering above the furious battle, turned with a terrible purpose, turrets rising and settling back as she acquired a target-lock on the Amarrian fleet’s dreadnaught. This was going to be a slugfest.

‘Let ‘er rip, sister, I got your back.’ Sylar felt the deadly hum of his new ship’s systems building up around him, awakened by the adrenalin flooding his body. The shriek of Cherry’s gleeful laughter was the sound of immense autocannons unleashing their full force upon the enemy.

Tiia’s voice echoed in his ear, filled with an odd mix of relief, surprise, and anger. ‘Why didn’t you tell us what you had planned, you bastard?’

‘It was a last-minute idea. We didn’t know if we’d need these or not; I was only going to use this girl to lift the colonists out. ‘ With a thought, Sylar commanded fighters to launch into the fight, instructing them to focus on what remained of the Amarrian support as he brought heavy energy neutraliser batteries to bear on the closest ship: the Reclamation fleet’s carrier. ‘Why so surprised? Just because we specialise in wolfpack doesn’t mean we can’t field anything bigger.’ His Hel-class mothership locked onto the Archon, and Sylar asked Hatthro, ‘You got enough left to take out the carrier and dread, or are we gonna have to do it ourselves?’

The Ammatar fleet’s commander swore at him. ‘Next time, I trust you’ll let us know before you pull a stunt like this. I’ve lost half my men; we could have used your caps a lot sooner.’

Instead of retreating, the Amarrian ships seemed to throw themselves at the mixed Minmatar fleet with a frenzy borne of desperation to remove the threat of the Matari capitals before all else. Draining the capacitor energy from the smaller carrier as fast as the Amarrian Guardians could replenish it, Sylar felt his shields begin to prickle from lasers and a peppering of missiles as the remaining Amarrian fleet focussed fire. Two of his fighter pilots went down, felled by Amarrian drones, and he recalled the rest, launching a fresh group as soon as the first had docked.

The Archon’s armour passed its peak, and the enemy fleet had redoubled their efforts to defend it. Someone somewhere was probably cursing as the mistake was realised: the defense fleet was better-prepared than they had expected, and with their fleet already decimated, it was only a matter of time before their own capital ships fell.

A volley of torpedo-fire struck the Archon from the sky like the hand of an angry god; before the blue-white glare had faded, Sylar was already focussing his mothership’s massive energy neutraliser batteries on the Revelation which was pounding down on Cherry’s armour. ‘Let’s see you use those lasers without any cap, mate,’ he muttered, unaware that his words went out over the open comms. The Archon’s fighters, disoriented by the carrier’s destruction, drifted about the field, and Starke ordered his own flight to focus fire at will amongst the remaining fleet.

************************************

In the caves on the planet below, Nareen huddled under her father’s worn old jacket. It was cold in here, and damp seeped through the rough stone walls and floor, leaving a chilly slick on her skin. The girl glanced around at the gathered mass of her people, all crouching or sitting on blankets on the floor to avoid the low ceiling. The adults had said they couldn’t make fires because the heat would be seen by the slavers, and Nareen was starting to wonder how her great-grandparents had lived this way.

A scuffle toward the entrance brought several people upright, ready to stand. Someone cracked the shield on a lantern, revealing Scall staggering in, the woman somewhat blinded from the change from light to darkness, her hand on the ceiling to prevent her banging her head.

‘They’re here! On the radio, I heard it. They’ve destroyed most of the Amarr ships, and the slave carrier. Come on!’

Stepping blinking into the sunlight filtering through the trees, Nareen felt someone take her hand; she turned to see Komar looking excited and terrified.

‘It’s Space Capt’n Starke, ‘Ree. I tol’ you he- he could do anythin’.’ He tugged her forward and up the hill towards the treeline, following Scall into the open.

The middle-aged woman pointed up into the sky, away from the low morning sun, ‘Look, you can just see them!’ Against the sooty blue, flecks and glimmers of light could be seen. It was impossible to tell what was happening at this distance, but as they watched, a flash brighter than the others appeared, then again, then–

Everyone gasped as something lit up, a small second sun flaring in the sky. Scall began to yell with triumph. ‘They did it! They did it! Do you see?!’

Nikitta appeared at Nareen’s other elbow. ‘What do you think’s happening?’

Komar released the taller girl’s hand and ran forward, waving his toy Rifter about in the air. ‘Capt’n Starke blew ‘em up! Boom! Like that!’

The colonists hung back cautiously among the trees, uncertain what would happen next as Scall returned to the wrecked Apocalypse. After a while, five dark shapes appeared in the air, descending carefully to the fields just beyond the limits of the houses. A few minutes later, Scall returned with a wiry Sebiestor man dressed like a soldier following closely.

‘I’m Corporal Vahann, I’m in charge of the drop you see over there. Those ships will take you and your possessions up to our mothership for transport off-world.’ He looked around the gathered crowd among the trees, taking in homespun clothing, rough animal leathers and hard-worn yet determined faces. ‘This is a hazardous system for an undefended colony like this, but whether you choose to leave or remain is up to you.’

************************************

SPACE CAPTAIN STARKE strides through the halls of his mothership, running a hand over his new short-cropped hair. Guarded by the Ammatar and renegade TLF fleets, he feels safe enough to park the ship in empty space and leave his capsule.

There is business to discuss.

He is followed by TIIA EDGRIET and MIRITHAK HATTHRO, along with the Nefantar commander’s small honour-guard. The trust between the Matari forces and the Ammatar is still thin and laced with suspicion, but HATTHRO has the authority of his tribe’s leaders and EDGRIET has been contacted by THE GENERAL to endorse the opening of diplomatic relations in this backwater system.

The group enters the assembly bay, a cavernous room usually used for mustering ground-forces near the dropship hangar. Something buzzes through the air and strikes STARKE’s leg before tumbling to the floor with a whirr; he stops with a puzzled frown to pick it up. A smile forms on his face as he turns the clockwork wooden Rifter over in his hands, recognising the hand-painted sunburst design. The captain looks up to see three terrified children staring up at him from behind a pile of bales and boxes, all the Ubtes colonists’ worldly possessions.

STARKE: (still smiling)
Is this yours?

EDGRIET peers curiously at the toy, then grins and looks out across the room at the ten thousand worried people gathered there. HATTHRO looks calculating, then looks to EDGRIET and nods. The TLF commander, her rank restored and gleaming at her collar, returns the nod, then steps forward.

EDGRIET: (in a clear voice which carries well through the room)
My people… my family. (she smiles) It’s been far too long, and I truly wish the circumstances were better. (she sobers) We have lost our home. The land we have worked all our lives, the houses we have built with our bare hands. We are orphans of the cluster, as our grandparents and great-grandparents once were.

As she speaks, the people begin to cluster around, hushing children so that the woman can be heard by all.

EDGRIET:
We cannot go back. I wish we could, but the Amarr know about the settlement now, and will return. This leaves you with a choice. The Republic will welcome each and every one of you: rehome you, offer you jobs, education, medical care. It’s an easier life than what you’re accustomed you. There are better opportunities.

She glances to the side, then waves her hand to indicate HATTHRO.

EDGRIET:
This man has a different offer for you; he represents the Nefantar tribe. The Ammatar have an interest in becoming a part of the Republic once again, and in good faith, they are willing to offer you places on another planet they are already colonising. What they offer is much like what we had on Ubtes VIII, working alongside Nefantar volunteers. You will be offered equal standing with their people, with respect given to our own customs; and the world is closer to the centre of their domain, and much better protected.

A ripple of voices runs through the room as the refugees look to one another, seeking guidance. HATTHRO steps forward.

HATTHRO:
The offer is genuine. Your skills and experiences will greatly benefit our own colonists, and the Nefantar will not reduce you to the slaves your ancestors once were. No ill will shall be held if you choose to return to the Republic.

A man steps forward from the crowd; it is RISGA, NAREEN’s father, who was elected speaker for the refugees before they boarded the dropships. He stands tall, proud in his rough-woven clothing and hand-made leather boots before the Republic and Ammatar representatives.

RISGA:
I speak for all of us gathered here. We would prefer to remain on our world, if such a thing were possible, though we realise the extent of the danger. A life in the Republic would be comfortable, yes, but we do not want an easy life. Some may choose that for themselves, and the rest of us wish them well. But as a whole, we will accept the offer of the Nefantar, provided that we are permitted contact with the Republic at any time.

The Nefantar commander nods.

HATTHRO:
Of course. The planet we offer you is Abha VII, and not much different from Ubtes VIII. You will be given tools and equipment, as well as a modern communications system…

As he speaks, STARKE murmurs to EDGRIET.

STARKE:
Is this what you expected from your people?

EDGRIET: (nodding)
Charity is not something we accept easily, Captain. Better to be granted only the barest necessities so that we can make our own way.

The Brutor captain nods, then glances over to where the three children still watch him. Crouching, he holds the toy Rifter out towards them. NIKITTA, NAREEN and KOMAR approach shyly, and KOMAR accepts his toy back without removing his eyes from STARKE.

EDGRIET: (smiling)
Unless I’m very much mistaken, you’re my nephew, Niki, yes? You were very small when I last saw you.

NIKITTA nods. Smiling, STARKE holds his hand out.

STARKE:
Nice to meet you. Who are your friends?

NIKITTA: (shaking STARKE’s hand)
Nareen and Komar… sir.

STARKE reaches out to shake the other children’s hands, too.

STARKE:
It’s great to meet you guys. I guess you watch the show, huh?

The children nod. The captain smiles broadly.

STARKE:
Why don’t you go ask your parents if you can meet the rest of the Nova Elite while you’re here? Tell your friends, too.

NAREEN squeals and runs back towards her mother, SAPHA, who is standing to the side as her husband and HATTHRO negotiate. NIKITTA also hurries away, but KOMAR hangs back, staring at STARKE solemnly.

KOMAR:
I told them you could do anything.

STARKE smiles proudly.

STARKE:
The Nova Elite always fly to defend our people.

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E-ON Issue #017 – Out Now

Published on 24. Oct, 2009 ... written by Smak.

E-ON Issue #017 – Out Now

Published 16th October 2009 (delayed to incorporate exclusive content from
Fanfest 09)

Content includes:

IN DUST WE TRUST
For console gamers DUST 514 promises to be the most unique shooter ever
devised, but for those of us already fighting between planets what will it
mean to have hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, fighting on the
ground? A crack squad of E-ON special forces capture CCP to find out how the
EVE FPS will fuse with EVE Online, plus we get the views of players to see
if they are as excited about DUST 514 as they should be.

THREE CHRONICLES
Officially, the early days of Amarrian expansion were a time of glory for
New Eden’s largest empire, while today the worlds within the factional
warzones are seen as frontiers that will one day reward the brave pioneers
that have tried to tame them. The problem with official versions of events
past and present is that they are very often wrong, as evidenced by three
new chronicles in this issue of E-ON, which show a very different side to
life on the frontiers of New Eden.

TRUST FUNDS
Players have never been as rich as they are currently, yet the status of
banks in the New Eden economy has never looked bleaker after a string of
high-profile trust issues that have left the industry in tatters. Player
economist and blogger LaVista Vista delves into the history of banking in
EVE to see if it has a future and what it might look like.

PLUS

* News on Cosmos and Dominion from Fanfest 09
* Testflight: Electronic Attack frigates
* Profiles of Pandemic Legion, Dr Caymus and Jeran Tek
* Interviews with CCP Molock and CCP Manifest
* Win signed copies of The Burning Life
* Full round-up of 0.0 activity in Quarterly Report
* Guides to wormholes, modules and EVE: Conquests
* Websites for new players
* … and all the latest news

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