10. Faith of the Lambs

Luci's Bar handled every kind of alcohol and synthetic known to the worlds of Eve, so the sign said, but really when you ordered something like Quafe or Bulh, or even Dugs-burn, you were told by the bartender that Matari Bold was the only drink available because of reasons as numerous as the drinks supposedly sold.

This week, the reason for lack of generous supplies of any kind of outside brew was simple - Amarr deaths had led to a general evacuation of the settlement for fear of extensive intrusion into the affairs people would rather be left undisclosed. Hardly a reason to get upset at the bartender, it would seem, except that an Ammatar had also died.

The General Inspector himself, Greogori Muth'asl, sat in the quietest part of the bar demanding something more than warm piss-water.

"Sorry, sir, there is no other available," the bartender said, again.

The Inspector looked terrible after such a long journey, the bartender feeling not a bit sorry or interested in the menace this man brought simply by his presence. Zayard didn't like Ammatar any more than he liked Amarri, and this man was looking pretty loathsome.

"We will start the investigation now then, since you seem unable to provide anything palatable to drink," the man said, motioning his guards closer to surround the table. "I imagine this is going to take a long time."

"Longer than a sandstorm in spring?"

The General Inspector frowned, pushing forward to glare at Zayard. "Are you making a pun, Matari?"

Zayard shrugged. He truly held no respect for the man, despite his ability to shoot up the place and kill everyone in it without too much in the way of official notice. Of course, that was any other day. Today, he wasn't so sure the Inspector had even a clue about just how dangerous Amamake had become. He also wondered if the Ammatar realized his use of the word Matari as if he wasn't Matari himself, even if a collaborator. The Nefantars were a treacherous bunch.

The heat in the bar, with all the bodies and the intensity of this Inspector's gaze got to him He thought of the dead Amarri and the one dead Ammatar. A week ago reports told of a set of punisher ships left burning outside the Emperor's Station in Sehmy, which he had no doubt were the same Amarri ships that had landed here some days ago. Matar's Hell, this was not a good week.

Zayard settled into the seat next to the Inspector, startling the man just a little. Oddly, he felt safer near the Ammatar than he did the rest of the bar's visitors. Nearly two-dozen Matari milled about, drinking and yelling and generally making themselves look just like a gaggle of drunken Matari with no business to be noticed. Hardly something to note except that every single bar visitor, every single person in the settlement was Degraded.

"I truly don't know what happened to your other man," Zayard began, mouth pushed up and to the left as he tried to look dumb and stupid. "The Amarr died though because they woke the ronin."

The Ammatar seemed to be disconcerted by how close they were to each other, but Zayard felt comfortable here, right at this moment. Odd how things turn out.

"You're saying ghosts killed the Amarr Navy pilots, took their ships to Sehmy and then left them to burn? Are you mad?"

"Hey look," Zayard said, pointing out into the crowd. "These people believe that the ronin are now awake. I saw one of them myself, ask anyone. She brought the head of that ensign to his friends. Maybe not a ghost, but he certainly should have heeded the warnings to stay close to home that night rather than wander into the desert."

"Perhaps we should bombard the planet to be sure these ghosts of yours don't take more heads," the Inspector said, raising laughter in his guards who up till now seemed emotionless.

"That would be just the Ammatar to leave their brethren to bombardment like they did to the Starkmanir"

The Inspector stood, backhanding Zayard, which didn't send him reeling away as the Ammatar had thought. The bartender simply looked up at the Inspector, licking his lips of the blood. "Your tribe was the only Matari those bastards took off the planet before turning it to wasteland."

Zayard leaned back into the chair, the guards tensing and the General Inspector still standing, dumbfounded. "Save your threats for university pilots, and get to the questions. Or get out. No one here is impressed by your Amarri-backed authority."

"You would do well to respect . . .."

"Respect an Amarr collaborator? Why is it that the General Inspector himself is sent to investigate the problems here?" Zayard felt great, remembering his earlier days fighting the Amarr, and his body loosened as he continued. "I think the Amarr are less afraid of losing their pilots than looking bad for being too stupid to stop the killing. So, that means they sent you in - after all, the Ammatar are just fodder for the Amarr."

The Inspector said nothing, and Zayard couldn't read him right now. Dumbfounded perhaps, murderous definitely, but obviously thinking something over. The crowd continued the general hubbub, but he saw the glances and knew the Degraded were just putting on a show. He found it hard to believe that it was only a few days ago that he had been trying to escape this desert hole, and instead found Degraded taking over the abandoned settlement. That they needed him to be their otherworld liaison just never seemed real enough to seriously consider until this Ammatar showed up. He looked back to the Inspector, who seemed to have made up his mind.

"I was sent because of the rise of the ronin, and the possibility that their re-emergence may also spark talk of the Seven Khumaak."

Zayard immediately felt weak. "The Seven Khumaak is an old story."

The bar had quieted instantly, and the guards turned to the crowd who were all now staring at them. The Inspector broke through the line of guard, meeting the gaze of the bar's visitors. Zayard couldn't think, just sit and wonder what the Inspector had in mind.

"Yes, the Seven Khumaak." The Inspector turned back to him, waving the guards back to the walls. "I am Ammatar, and I work for and with the Amarr. Let's move past that to the more pressing issues."

"Let's." All Zayard could muster.

"The People's Front, the Masuat'aa Matari, name a Matari terrorist cell and we've heard it time and time again. The Matari want to send the Amarr back to the pits of Matar's Hell, and the Amarr want to subjugate the worlds back into their fold. Old story, tired story." The Inspector sat down now, his back to the crowd. Zayard admired the man for it, although the Ammatar probably still hadn't noticed that he now sat with his back to an entire town of Degraded. "The Paratwa Ra, of course, cut across the Amarr like lightening, and now we see the waking of ghosts."

"But what of the Seven Khumaak?"

The Inspector breathed heavily for four breaths, then stared right into Zayard's eyes. "I sometimes do work for one of the Heirs of the Throne. Which one isn't important. There's a problem brewing that this particular Heir is quite concerned over."

"A problem the others don't know about yet."

"Yes, and the other Heirs aren't going to find out about it if I can just calm this Amamake issue down. With your help."

He had been helping all week, so why stop now? "What do you need?"

"I need a murderer to take back, a regular old criminal who turned to extremism. Someone who killed the Amarr, killed my Ammatar brother, and made a public display in Sehmy, someone who won't be believed no matter how much he protests. That is all."

"A scapegoat? Seems rather unfair to the goat."

It was the Inspector's turn to laugh. "When the Amarr incinerated almost every single Starkmanir, yes, we Nefantar were spared. That is history. Of course, the other tribes had many numbers of their clans-people there too, but only the Starkmanir suffered almost to the last."

He continued. "As the uprising grew, the remaining six clans and those who are Degraded formed a leadership of seven, the U'Maak'akee. These seven created the key-note rebellion that has shaken Amarri history, and that ended when the ships began the bombardment."

"All well known," Zayard said, slightly impatient now as the history lesson droned on.

"The Khumaaks of those seven leaders were carried away too before the bombardment began."

Zayard's body became chill, and the crowd of Degraded reacted by grabbing the guards and holding the Inspector down in his seat. This took barely ten seconds, but the Inspector didn't seem surprised.

Perhaps there was more awareness to this man than Zayard first believed.

A woman pulled from the crowd, and stood between the chairs where the Inspector and Zayard sat. She was a beautiful woman with extremely long blonde hair. Her only imperfection was the Destiny Mark of the upside down fish on her right temple. "Yes, Ammatar, the Khumaaks of the U'Maak'akee were saved by one of the Degraded and a Nefantar, symbols of rebellion for use in another age. They were carried away on the ships by an Ammatar, whose Amarri Master trusted more than he should. I am Jesra of the tribe of the Degraded."

The Inspector nodded. "Carried away by my greatest grandfather seventeen down the line." A bold statement, one that caused the Matari holding the Inspector down to let go of the man's shoulders. "The knowledge of the Seven Khumaak surviving must never be learned. I need a scapegoat that will be accepted more readily than stories of ghosts. Even if it only buys the Heir a little more time, it is worth it."

The implications of this hit Zayard, and then also the lack of connection -- the Seven Khumaak, the Degraded here on Amamake, and what those had to do with the ronin.

Seeming to read his thoughts, the Inspector answered.

"My greatest grandfather's sister was Degraded - course that was when the Amarr of that Constellation didn't really care too much about their slaves performing heathen rituals like the Voluval. They were easier to sell, actually, when they looked more like animals." Seeing some Matari bristling at the comment, he continued. "She made him swear to take the Seven Khumaak away from the planet, and he did. His Amarri master learned of it, and arranged to hide the relics through a series of underlings and other outside resources."

"Are you saying an Amarri Heir helped the MinMatar?" Zayard shook his head.

"If it were learned that an Amarr in general was a traitor, the political ramifications would produce ripples throughout the galaxy. Drumhead courts would be instituted, and the search would begin. The Heir of whom I speak would likely manage to show evidence of blame on one their rivals, but that would never suffice to maintain and semblance of order."

The Degraded woman leaned closer in. "If they learn that the Heir's ancestors were traitors . . . those drumhead courts would probably seize power, tearing apart Amarr society in their effort to vilify the Heir and condemn the whole family to death. Perhaps even the Emperor would not be spared, although he would likely declare the whole problem a fiction created by the Matari. He would provoke his race into believing the MinMatar were an imminent threat. If it worked, he would have staved off the whole of Amarr falling apart in favor of outright war with us."

The Inspector pointed to the crowd. "Of course, you Matari would be reenergized anew as these Khumaak became living symbols of rebellion, and yet another reason to return to stronger terrorist activity - all of which would only confirm the Emperor's concerns."

He continued. "Those underlings the Heir used to hide the Seven Khumaak were mostly of the Degraded." He looked up at the woman's face. Zayard thought he saw the Inspector reaching backward in time to see through his grandfather's eyes.

"And the Paratwa?"

The Inspector nodded. "In those days it seems all parties involved agreed that the most expedient way to keep Amarr and Matari from murdering each other to the last was for a bit of cooperation between Amarr sympathizers and the Matari underground -- to allow things to happen naturally. The Matari would find their way to fight for freedom eventually. It needed no further impetus in the form of symbols. Even the Paratwa agreed."

Zayard hated what he was about to say, hated the Inspector for not having just answered it previously. He hated even speaking about them. "I can't imagine the Paratwa helping an Amarri. Might as well ask the sun to set in the north."

"To be more precise, barkeeper," the Ammatar replied. "The Paratwa not of the Sect of that time, but their Cast-off. Collaboration in the name of greater good is sometimes a valid choice." Seeing no one was going to give him a sympathetic look, he continued. "In any case, the death of the Starkmanir . . ."

"The near genocide," the woman corrected. She moved her hair with her hand, revealing that the mark that made her one of the Degraded continued past her ear along her neckline, an upside down fish carried along the ray of a Sun.

"You are Starkmanir!" The Inspector sat back, nodding. "Not many of you around even now. Yes, the death of the Starkmanir became the fire that the Amarr could not quench. If it were known that an Amarr had rebelled against the will of the God to help the Matari, especially an Heir, total war would be the end result."

Zayard laughed, which surprised him more than the woman or the Inspector. "Even worse news if the Seven Khumaak should be found. Proof indeed that Amarri are sometimes human."

No one said anything after that. Especially the woman at the bar, her back turned to the whole affair, never having ordered anything or having become directly involved with the commotion that had just occurred other than to listen. She simply sat, clothed generally just as everyone else was clothed, for the sand.

She smiled at noticing that she sat in the chair she had earlier this month, when she delivered the head of the Amarr officer back to his friends. The discussion at the far table seemed to have closed, and she stood, walking through the crowd to the two Matari and the Ammatar.

"You said you needed a criminal," she started, "One who can take the blame for the death of the Amarri. No need to find just anyone. I murdered them."

When the three of them simply continued to stare at her, she lifted the lance from the holster and dropped it on the table, letting them catch up to the significance of the gesture. It was the edict of the Emperor that any non-Amarri who possessed a lance would be put to death, so that alone would suffice if not for the deaths of many Amarri and destruction of government property.

Hands grabbed her arms, the guards moving swiftly. The General Inspector stood and pulled her hood down roughly, the two of them staring into each other’s eyes. "I am Gaelbhan Wulf, late of the Sect of the Paratwa Ra. I am your sacrificial lamb."

cont...