The Death Ships

Acharya [Beyond Reach]
YC106-08-25 11:36

Walking methodically behind the line of monks at the terminal stations, the acharya watched the monks verbally dictating notes into their PADS, who themselves watched the monitors. These terminals displayed people and places throughout the worlds of Eve, events as they unfolded, and the monks made notes. The monastery housed dozens of such rooms, high on the granite cliffs amidst the tropical forest prevalent in many rural areas of Onga.

On some monitors, Curse Alliance did battle with enemies new and old, while in the Caldari systems, GalNet cams viewed nothing but the marketplaces. All of these various activities were history in the making, but the monks' job were to connect the dots. Perhaps a Caldari soldier would be seen one day at a marketplace buying candy for his three year old son, only to be connected to the sale of arms to Matari dissidents -- while also providing intelligence of those mercenary movements to the Amarr - connected to these events simply because a small bag of candy popped up on the table where these events happened; all in view of one of the innumerable GalNet cams.

The acharya job, as head of the religious order of Beyond Reach, was to oversee this unconventional portion of the order's operations. Unfiltered access to raw data often fueled him with new insights of the big picture.

". . . the seven Amarri frigates were located at the dark side of Amarr VIII Moon 9 . . . " a monk said into his PAD. The acharya stopped, turning back to look at the monk, then the monitor. A video stream coded Amarr Navy showed seven frigates sitting in a baseline formation in orbit of that moon. They looked abandoned.

"Replay," The acharya said to the monk, who obediently reset the incoming video stream. The Navy ship ended the warp, the video beginning with a jitter. The moon filled the whole monitor, but the camera drones adjusted the view to the seven objects in lower orbit. Zooming, the seven frigates appeared.

"Replay," The acharya said to the monk, who again obediently reset the video. "That's not typical Navy drone action."

"You mean the video isn't from the Amarr fleet?" The monk asked, replaying it several times. "Ah yes, the jitter is from a destabilized drone system, not like the Navy equipment at all."

"Let me hear the feed."

The monk flipped the switch to external speaker and reset the video again. "We've discovered seven frigates in orbit of the ninth moon of Amarr VIII. Although we were able to activate the ship's onboard AI system remotely, the ships were otherwise powered down and all active systems filtered to prevent detection. The ships' black box revealed an Imperial Academy graduate named Jafi Aphuka had piloted them to this location. They look to have been abandoned."

"The video feed isn't live. It was recorded."

"Acharya? How can you know that?"

He pointed to the farthest ship, its running lights active, only possible when a pilot was interfaced with the ship. "Someone was on that ship when this video was taking place. Maybe even our young Amarri pilot."

The feed continued after a pause, the Navy ship sending down a boarding party. The video now appeared to be the personal cam of the Navy Captain sent to investigate the frigates. The Archarya felt more doubt as the video played. He didn't think the people on the video were even Amarr, but still cleverly played.

"Captain," one voice said, "Nothing in the cargo hold, and the systems are unaffected. Nothing to report from damage control."

"Very good, Sergeant. Continue the sweep of the other six ships. Keep the channel open."

Another voice, a female. "Captain, the ships' logs show that they were intended to travel from this location to various stations in Amarr, Sehmy and others . . . on auto-pilot."

"Auto-pilot? Then what? Just sit and wait? Get me answers."

The archarya and the monk watched as the video played through to the last ship. The first six ships' cargo holds were empty, the ships seemingly abandoned, and the systems checked satisfactory.

"Sir! We found a body!"

The Captain moved down the corridor to the cargo hold of the seventh ship, RIN Soul of Amarr, bypassing personnel whose heads always managed to be turned away or not in the frame. The body of an Amarr lay in the hold, curled into a ball, looking very ashen. "Who is it?"

"ID tags say it's Jafi Aphuka. And sir? The salvage teams are reporting they found some objects onboard the other ships now. We found one too, over there."

"What kind of objects?" The Captain asked, his cam moving toward the direction pointed. The screen panned the floor, then on an object attached to the wall of the hold. As the lights all gathered in that corner, they illuminated a large scepter like object, with a sun flaring at the top of a long rod; a Khumaak.

"Well, now I've seen everything." The Captain waited a moment more for the cam to conveniently catch a few more moments of the Khumaak, and then he reached down to the body, turning it slightly onto its side. Of course, the cam never showed the Captain's face, mounted on the shoulder, but it did catch the Amarr pilot's face full frame. The Captain backed up, yelling.

"Who checked for virals? Well?"

"Standard checks Sir. Nothing."

The archarya replayed that last sequence, stopping the video just as the face of Jafi Aphuka appeared on screen. Ashen face and blue lips indicated a standard viral agent, but why were the ears also blue? He had never seen a viral with that additional epidermal symptom.

The acharya stepped back to the wall, thinking. Odd set of circumstances, and some chilling results yet to be seen, he thought. Why would an Amarr pilot have seven ships sitting in orbit on the far side of a moon? These ships were destined for populated stations, and a viral agent was involved, so somehow the young Amarr had become mixed up in terrorist activities û but whose activities? Matari? What was the significance of the Khumaak?

Not just one Khumaak, but seven . . ..

Whereas one might suppose Matari terrorists based on that, the acharya never jumped to a conclusion. He snapped his fingers -- a couple of weeks ago, a Matari terrorist had fired on and left ships to burn outside the Emperor's Station in Sehmy. Then there was that other incident . . . where was that? "Pull up file 37-A21."

"Yes, acharya." The monitor replayed an incident in Aranir in which a Matari ship self-destructed just outside a station there. The Matari, named Ajahn, appeared in the screen speaking his last few words before the ship became debris.

"I make this sacrifice for my brothers and sisters in bondage to you foul Amarr! The virus you inflict on the Matari will hold us no more!"

The screen went black, and Archarya replayed it once more. The Matari's face was ashen, his lips and ears were blue. "He has the same symptoms," the monk said, and the acharya nodded. "What does he mean, the virus won't hold the Matari no more?"

"Of course!" The acharya strode down the corridor to his study, leaving the monks to ponder his bright, upbeat attitude.

On the monitor that played the faked Navy video, the crew had returned to their ships, calling for medical quarantine. Despite the hubbub of people running and medical condition Alpha Red blaring, a voice managed to be heard over the vessel's intercom.

"Captain, a ship is approaching. It bears the signature of PIE. They're saying they've received a delayed communication escrowed to them by the Amarr pilot."