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The Smallest of Voices (A Story)

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Veron Daerth Amarr Blood Meridian	Posted - 2008.08.02 05:10:00 - [1] Ok, I have finished the second of four stories I am writing. I cant take total credit for all of this, as the basic plot occurred to me after going over a case history for my Criminal Psych class. The girl in the case didnt have anyone to come for her, but I wondered "what if". So I kind of took the basics of her case and filled it out and made it "fit" in the game universe. One of the reasons I love EvE is that it can and often does mirror the real world. That said, this isnt a story for the little kids out there, and isnt for those that get all crappy when you suggest the world isnt a place of joy and light and total happiness. You have been warned. Anyway, hope you all enjoy it.
Veron Daerth Amarr Blood Meridian	Posted - 2008.08.02 05:11:00 - [2] The hull of the ship rocked and groaned. The thunder of explosions and the shockwaves from them transmitted well through the fabric of the old ship. She was slowly coming apart. The Bestower shuddered under another salvo of mid-size artillery rounds. Her shields were long gone and her armor was almost stripped. Her hull streamed gas and vapor like a skein of blood in a sea of sharks. Her escorts had gone with the first few salvo's and she was all that was left. Her killers circled her, fast and deadly. They looked to be in rough shape, almost as bad as their victim, but they looked that way by design. No-one ever accused a Minmatar ship of elegance or gracefulness. But they functioned and functioned well, and that was all that mattered to the Bestower's captain. Atreus Kil-Rean was an Amarrian, and a pureblood at that. His face did not show the fear he felt, or the almost overriding need to flee to the escape pods and leave his men to their fate. "Sir, the armor repair systems cannot maintain the current rate of repair. We are losing, and aid is not going to make it in time." The voice of his first officer cut through the din of emergency alarms and hull breach warnings. The mans face was taut with.. fear, perhaps? Atreus had not thought the mans Civere constitution capable of such a thing, but "live and learn" as they said. "Fine, they want the damned slaves, they can have them. Release the inner airlock seals and stand by to partition the ship. On my command, release the outer seals and give the Matari dogs their prize, much good it will do them." Atreus laughed, the hollow sound swallowed up in the constant demand for attention given off by the alarms on the command deck. The Caldari mercenary simply nodded and then turned to go. He stopped and looked over his shoulder, "And the escape pods sir? We wont last long under this. If we take to the pods now, at least some of the crew might make it out while they are busy with the ship." "Fine, but make sure the auto-cycle sequence is active when you go. I think I will stay and watch the fireworks" came the curt, almost hissed answer. At this, the first officer did turn and face his captain. "But sir, you can make it out with us. There wont be any question back home about this. We were ambushed and our escorts were destroyed, no-one will fault you for losing the ship." Atreus stood silent for a time, as if in thought. Then he turned to look at his officer... and friend. "No, I and my House are done. This was the last run we could afford to do. This ship is all that is left. Our debtors will take our remaining assets and, undoubtedly, my family will be shackled like the animals in our holds. I am finished. Go now, or not at all." With this, he gestured to the hatch that stood open. The Caldari officer nodded and walked to a console. He stood for a moment, listening to the sounds of the hull groaning under the impact of the incoming rounds, the dull thuds of a hull breach somewhere on one of the decks below him. The howl of the decompression alarms and the sirens that indicated an imminent reactor breach. He smiled a sad smile and typed in a series of commands on the console before him. He turned and nodded once to the Amarrian standing before the forward viewscreen and then left the bridge. He did not look back. All over the ship, emergency damage control partitions lowered and a voice sounded from the internal comms net. "Warning, catastrophic hull breach detected. All personnel to escape systems. Repeat, hull breach detected, all personnel evac now." In the slave holds, the voice was met with bedlam and chaos. For the inhabitants of the holds, there was no escape, save one. And that escape was none that anyone sane would wish for.
Veron Daerth Amarr Blood Meridian	Posted - 2008.08.02 05:11:00 - [3] The child knew fear, and pain, and somewhere close, the hissing sigh of another's dying breath. She had become familiar with the death rattle of a dying human by now, though it would haunt her for all her days. She lay her head down on the warmth under her, and her mind cast back over the last few hours, though she knew not how much time had truly elapsed. The voice from the speaker spoke of escape and death. She wasnt old enough to understand all of what it meant, but those about her did. Chaos broke out when the end of a rusty shackle broke under the stress of multiple bodies straining against it. The newly freed slave scrambled to open a few more shackles and to unchain the stays that kept him and some of his compatriots bound. Voices called and begged and pleaded. Some admonishing the free men to free them also, and others telling those freed to run and open the hatches to the hold. The child remembered the men running not to the great cargo hatch, but to the smaller one that led deeper into the ship. Were they docked at last? The slamming, thumping, banging sounds and the screeching of sirens didnt sound like when they undocked. The shuddering and jumping of the shop didnt either. She had no parent to turn to, only a single female Brutor that "nannied" for a coffle of child slaves. She began to know of real fear. Fear was not new to her, not since she was old enough to remember, but this, this was new. She began to cry. The men at the end of the hold finally managed to pry loose a single bar from the wall rack that provided a prospective master to view a slave he wished to purchase. The bar was applied to the locking mechanism of the hatch, and the lock began to slowly inch around. Seven men trained at the bar, trying to move it, slowly breaking themselves in the process. At the moment the warning lights around the great cargo hatch began to flash, and a new siren added its howl to the din of noise. The heavy seals around the hatch began to retract, and a new voice came over the speakers. "Warning, inner hatch seals released. Decompression imminent. Hatch pressure exceeding safety limits. Warning, Decompression alert." Whatever this meant, the men working on the hatch redoubled their efforts. One of them clutched his side and fell with a cry, another took his place. Merely human muscles straining against old and neglected metal and locks, they were winning their race, but just barely. The great cargo hatch began to deform, and another massive slamming sound shook the ship. The screams of those still shackled or trapped became hysterical. The child screamed with them. several men came to her "nanny" and began to pry the stay bolts loose from her coffle's shackle. "Hurry", one man said. "The children will go first. We all wont make it, but hopefully the internal bulkhead will hold and they can survive." He stopped and looked at the woman. "For now at least, for a bit longer." At this pronouncement, some of the older children began to wail louder, but they were silenced with a quick slap from the "nanny". She turned to one of the older males and whispered something to him. He wept quietly, but nodded at what she said. The "nanny" moved to aid some other, still bound, slaves, and the boy marshaled the other children of the coffle by the hatch leading deeper into the ship. Behind them, the shrieking of the tritanium cargo hatch grew sharper. The hissing of the atmosphere as it began to leak from the failing hatch seal became louder. The shuddering of the ship, the slamming sounds, the thunderous shaking, all combined to urge the men laboring at the hatch to greater efforts. Finally, with a last cry of tortured metal, the pry-bar broke, but not before the latches on the hatch gave way, and it squealed open, but only about a foot or two, before jamming.
Veron Daerth Amarr Blood Meridian	Posted - 2008.08.02 05:12:00 - [4] The men at the hatch began to push the children through the space between the hatch and the combing. The child squeezed through the space and turned to help the rest of the children pull the last few through. As the first of the men began to push a woman through, chaos erupted behind them. The other slaves, seeing a way out, began to push and shove and fight to get through before the cargo door gave way. The oldest boy pulled the children back up the corridor toward the intersection, and the grav-lift. As they ran, a new voice came over the communication system. "Alert, command override warning. Cargo bay hatch auto cycle complete. Automatic release of all outer cargo seals commencing. Stand clear, stand clear." What followed was a cacophony of squealing metal, screaming humans, and the soundless thunder of rushing air as it escaped through the open cargo bay personnel hatch. Ahead, a heavy nanofiber containment partition began to grind down from its recess in the corridor ceiling. An alert klaxon began to sound, and the fabric of the ship began to shudder even more than before. The girl pulled on the chain connecting her to those behind, even as she was pulled forward by the ones ahead of her. She knew no pain, no fear, nothing, she simply pulled and struggled forward. As they neared the partition, the airflow got faster, seeking the escape of the now fully opened cargo bay loading hatch. As the boy leading the coffle of slave children made his way past the partition he stopped. Bracing himself against a protrusion of the bulkhead, he pulled the first few children past the descending partition, one, two, three, four. The fifth child almost made it. His foot however, was caught in the ever shrinking gap between the partition and the deck. His screams were high pitched and strangely muffled in the low atmosphere. She didnt know what to do. She was still in shock. With a grinding thunk, the partition slid down fully and sealed. The boys leg was caught, and severed. His cries weakened, and soon stopped. He was still. The five children were caught. The chain of the coffle was under the partition, and there was no-where to go. She collapsed. On the bridge of the Bestower class slave transport, Captain Atreus Kil-Rean laughed. He laughed as the viewscreen showed the four massive cargo hatches finally cycle open, and spill their shrieking cargo into the pitiless depths of space. He laughed as he watched the fortunes of his House flow out of their gaping maws, and spiral away from the ships battered and failing hull. He laughed as he watched the destruction of many of the ships escape pods and the deaths of his crew, and laughed as the predators that flailed his vessel with fire screamed useless and meaningless imprecations against him. He was a dead man, one way or another. He laughed at his oncoming end. He laughed as the fire of the Matari freedom fighters redoubled in their pathetic and useless fury. Captain Atreus Kil-Rean, Lord of House Rean, laughed until a final salvo of shells slammed into the secondary reactor deep in the shattered hull. He laughed when the end came.
Veron Daerth Amarr Blood Meridian	Posted - 2008.08.02 05:13:00 - [5] The child came to when the shaking began. Terrifying sounds, movement, violent shaking, it was like the end of the world. But it stopped. She knew darkness then, for the lights had failed before she awoke. No-one made a sound, for fear it would mean the end of them all. No-one moved, no-one even seemed to breathe. She was laying on something warm. For a time, nothing happened. Then the sounds began. A slow swishing sound, a breath, a muted cough. The air was ... nasty, and it was cold. It was hard to breathe. She lay there for a time that seemed endless. Then the moving started. Someone moved about, and whispered something hushed and hard to hear. It was the boy that had led them all to this place. She could not see, there was no light, but she could feel the movement through the deck plates, through the vibrations in the air. He touched her leg, and gave it a small shake. That hurt, and brought a small scream from her. But he stopped and the pain passed. He moved on. Time passed. Her leg began to throb, and the pain mounted. Eventually, she passed out again. She awoke to pain, and it was so hard to breathe. She could hear others around her. The warm thing beneath her was cooler, and someone nearby coughed wetly. Their breath rattled, and grew labored. She didnt know what was happening. It was so cold. The wet coughing stopped. There was a soft gasp, a quiet sigh, and a new stillness overtook them. She did not understand, and it hurt so much to breathe. She slept again. She awoke to noise. Dim and muffled shouts. A screeching sound came from the other side of the emergency partition. Voices, then more squeals and noises. Closer to hand, another breath had taken on that labored quality, a wet hacking cough. Soon it too grew silent, then came that same gasp, that same sigh, and that strange stillness. The noises from the other side of the partition sounded closer. She was sleepy, and knew nothing but the soft blanket of unconsciousness. She awoke to bright, stabbing light. Strange voices, muffled and alien. Faces distorted through oxygen masks and protective helmets. She panicked and began to scream. It was weak and strangely muffled. She could barely breathe. The faces came closer and said things. Things she couldnt understand, things she didnt know. Fear overtook her, and she passed out. Three children were taken from the wreck. They passed through the makeshift airlock attached to the end of the tumbling piece of ships hull. The line attaching the wreckage to the Rupture class cruiser holding station close to hand guided the rescue party and its three small charges into the ventral airlock. Once inside the lock, the crew of the Rupture quickly removed the emergency protective suits hastily fitted onto the survivors. The children were rushed to the ships infirmary. The medics did what they could, but one of the children, the eldest, died of scarring to his lung tissue and necrosis of his internal organs due to exposure to airborne contaminants in the wreck. It was excruciating. He was conscious until almost the very end. Our child was not. She regained consciousness two days later.
Veron Daerth Amarr Blood Meridian	Posted - 2008.08.02 05:13:00 - [6] She came to in a small room. It smelled, and was dimly lit. The dull throb of an out of tune stardrive thrummed somewhere below. A man pulled back a curtain and came into the room. He smiled at her and sat down on a stool next to her bed. "Well, your awake at last. I am Medic Sherlan, and I need to ask you some questions. Can you understand me?" She sat up and nodded. Maybe someone would finally tell her what was happening. Where she was, why she was here. "Good, what is your name, child?" "My Mistress called me Lesharu, but everyone calls me Sharu for short." "Thats a nice name, Lesharu. Do you hurt anywhere?" "Not really, but my belly hurts a little." "Well, thats probably because your hungry, we'll see about getting you some rations here soon. Now, is it hard for you to ..." The interview continued. The medic gathered the requisite information about the child. She was of an indeterminate age, probably 6 or 7 years, standard. She was not in any acute pain, and her broken leg and scarred lungs seemed to be healing nicely. She had no family that she knew of, and had probably been placed at birth in the service of a moderately well to do House. The partially exposed plasma conduit behind the bulkhead had kept her warm, and had in all probability saved her life, but it had also burned her back and left side badly. The radiation emanating from it had also not done her any favors. But she and her fellow survivor would live, unlike the 1500 slaves that had been on the transport when it was first engaged. Lesharu was fed and put to bed. The ship would be docking soon, and she would need her strength. When she awoke several hours later, the ship was docking. The quiet announcements and notifications over the intercom system were strange and alien, but Lesharu was calmed when Medic Sherlan came in and told her and the other boy what was happening. They would be taken to a processing station and given some shots and more tests to make sure they were fit for the trip to the planet below. They would then be assigned to a case worker and taken care of from there. Over the course of the next 7 hours, the child was subjected to a battery of tests and examinations. She was assigned to a case worker, one Meral Otulf, and was told she would be taken to the surface of the planet below and placed in a facility for refugee children that had no Tribe to claim them. Lesharu didnt know what a Tribe was or what any of it meant. She went where she was told, and did what she was told. The shuttle ride down was scary, and exciting. Mr Otulf was charged with the protection of some 6 children and 20 adults that had all been recently liberated. The first stop was to the ground transport station and then the refugee camps on the outskirts of the city. The camps were ramshackle and haphazardly constructed. More and more freed slaves came each day and there was less and less room. There was little work, and order was often brutal and often enforced by those, less than legal. Food and clothing were commodities that were "requisitioned" by those more established from those that just arrived. It was a harsh place, often brutal, but they were free.
Veron Daerth Amarr Blood Meridian	Posted - 2008.08.02 05:14:00 - [7] Meral Otulf did not consider himself to be a terribly bad man. He cared for his wife and children, made sure his parents were taken care of. He was active in his community. He also sold people. Meral was a mid-level caseworker for two of the largest refugee camps on this forsaken mud ball. He hoped to retire in a few years and forget all about this part of his career. The best pickings were straight off the shuttle. They hadnt been in-processed at the camp or facilities, they werent "on the books" so to speak, and there was a lot of confusion about who was who and where they were. A lot of refugees from many different points filtered through his offices, and if a few got lost, well, things happened, and you really couldnt hold him responsible. Besides, Meral's cases had some of the best success stories in relation to job placement and social acclimation. No one higher up the chain was going to mess with him. Meral had just dropped a load of the "rubes" at the processing facility that serviced the North Camp, and the grav-tram was making its way to the children's facility located to the south. However, the tram was going to make a short, unscheduled stop here soon. Damned grav system was known for its short circuits, wasnt it? When the power to the grav line "shorted out" the tram came to a squealing stop. The driver opened the doors and a few men got on. They looked over the six remaining children and four adults. The biggest one of them said, "Is this it? You gotta be shitting me Meral, this isnt going to cut it with the boss, man. Your going to catch hell if you dont step it up." "Jalek, just take them and keep it shut. This is the best I can get. They are clean and off the ledger. No-one knows they are here and besides, you and I both know that I am your best contact, and thats because I keep it low profile, and I work smart. Now, where is my payment." Meral returned with a sneer. "Yeah man, yeah. Whatever," Jalek laughed. "The boss told me to give you a small bonus, maybe get your kid some flash outfit or your wife somethin nice. The chit's loaded with the accounts like usual." The credit shit changed hands and just as fast, the people on the bus were sold back into slavery, just to a different overlord. Meral and the driver continued on their way after the "passengers" had been offloaded into a small hover-van. Meral didnt give a thought to the fate of those he had just sold, only to how he was going to explain to his wife how he had already gambled away a portion of his "reward". Maybe he could just tell her that the payment had been lower than usual, yeah... that would do it. The driver just pocketed his cut and did what he had been hired to do, he drove. Times were hard, and good steady cash was something he had learned to not question, unless you wanted to end up on a bread line or worse. After loading them onto the van, Jalek sorted out his new "acquisitions". He stood at the front of the compartment and addressed them. "You are mine now, and you do what I say, nobody gets hurt. Nobody knows your here, and nobody cares. You'll be taken to a safe place. The boss will look ya over and decide where ya go from there. Make trouble, and we waste you then and there. Now keep quiet and dont make me do something we will all regret." Jalek turned and sat down in the passenger seat. He turned to the driver, "seems like a good take today, boss will be pretty up about this. We might get to take a day off here soon. You know, I hear that the new club on Taldren St. is pretty good. Might want to..." His voice continued on, but Lesharu couldnt make any sense of what he had said, but she acted like the others around her, and kept quiet. Her experience as a slave had taught her that quiet and unnoticed slaves are slaves less likely to make problems.
Veron Daerth Amarr Blood Meridian	Posted - 2008.08.02 05:15:00 - [8] The van deposited them at the back of a run down warehouse in a district of the city that had definitely seen better times. Squalor and debris was strewn about and the air of despair and decay was almost palpable. Lesharu and the other three children were taken in and placed in a small room. It was filthy and stank of unwashed human. The pallets on the floor were old and stained. The walls bore evidence of water damage and mildew. Other, less identifiable stains were also evident on them. They bore mute testimony to the passage and ravages of time, abuse, and neglect. One of the boys had begun to struggle with the men that herded them into the room. He kicked and shouted. One of the men struck him a few times and he fell silent. The other girl was already crying quietly, and Lesharu began to do so as well. The man that had hit the boy shouted something undecipherable at the children, but that only made them cry harder. Another of the men just said something and laughed. His compatriots joined him and they pushed the unconscious boy into the room with the children. The door slammed shut with a finality that seemed to promise a slow doom to Lesharu. Alone the three conscious children began to cry. They continued to do so until the door opened again. Jalek had to laugh when he saw what the boy had done. Bartal was almost never caught off guard, especially by a mere whelp. The kick to Bartal's shin had barely connected, but it had wounded the mans pride. Jalek shrugged to himself. The boy had to learn sometime, and if he proved to be "unwilling" to see the truth of his new life, well, there were other uses for such. But, he had to hurry, the boss wouldnt like it if he was late reporting in, and was anxious to inspect the new goods. The boss's superiors were even more unforgiving than the boss. Jalek quickened his pace a bit and behind him, the door to the childrens room was slammed shut, leaving them locked inside. Bartal and the boys moved away, laughing. It was going to be a good day, Jalek just knew it. Later, the man known to his underlings as "the Boss" opened the door. He looked at the four children huddled in the center of the room. He shook his head. The big guys werent going to like this. They needed more people, and more assets, and soon. He had to get Jalek to put the squeeze on a few of their less productive contacts. Meral and Jalek had done good though, the six adults would be shipped out in a few days, but the kids, the kids would go sooner. He said sharply, "stand up you brats, lemme see you." Since they apparently didnt speak Matar, he made a quick hand gesture he knew Amarrian slavers used to order the slaves to stand. The girl with the black hair was almost perfect for the Pleasure Hubs or gambling dens. She was young enough to appeal to those of a more "diverse" appetite, and was old enough to know her place and not make trouble. The scarring on her back and left side was... off-putting, but you never knew, some guys like to leave scars themselves. She would bring a good turn of cash, either way. The younger girl was almost too young, but she would learn to cope, and was young enough to train up right. She had no outward flaws, but seemed a bit slow. "Meh," he thought, "she'll work out." The youngest boy was definitely messed up. He was badly scarred and had obviously been bred for strength. He would do well in a more.. physical position. The Cartel always had a use for more labor. The last kid was feisty. He had obviously awoken and had begun to shout and kick the door. He was a fighter. The Arena could always use new meat, and hell, new fighters were always needed for any of the crime organizations. Teach the kid a thing or two, get him a bit trippy, and he would go with the program, they always did. "Yup, you were right Jalek," said the Boss, "its gonna be a good day."
Veron Daerth Amarr Blood Meridian	Posted - 2008.08.02 05:16:00 - [9] Lesharu looked around her new room. She was older now, and understood her place. She hated it, hated the men that hurt her, hated herself really. The first time was the hardest. One of the other girls, one of the really old ones, probably about fifteen, had told her that. Lesharu hadnt understood then, but she did now. She didnt know how much time had passed, but another of the girls Lesharu lived and "worked" with had told her that she hadnt begun the bleeding yet, so she wouldnt need an implant yet. Lesharu sometimes wished for it all to end, wished the God of her dimly remembered childhood (all of 3 years ago) would come and end it all. She sometimes cried, but did so quietly, and only when alone. Her masters didnt like "unhappy girls". The customers didnt like "unhappy girls" and if the girls knew what was good for them, and they did, they were happy. Sometimes there were beatings, and the scarring on her back had been added to. Sometimes there was mock-fights between some of the girls of the Starshine Club. Sometimes there was pain, and beatings. The Gallentean pimp, Meltaeu, that managed the Club's girls organized such things as public shows. Some of the attendee's paid to get in the ring and whip or torment the girls, others were just content to watch. The worst were those that "booked" private shows. The things that happened in the private rooms were... bad. Not always, but mostly. Lesharu much preferred the patrons of the bars and pubs and dance rooms in the Club. They usually didnt do some of the more "extreme" things that happened behind closed doors. They could get rowdy and become a bit too ... overeager.. but they usually didnt leave marks. Meltaeu didnt like it when the girls got marked up too much. Well, mostly the customers didnt, but what they didnt like, they wouldnt pay for, and Melteau didnt like customers that didnt pay. Meltaeu also had a cadre of men and women that kept the peace in the Starshine Club. They were there to keep the customers from becoming too rowdy and making problems. They were there to keep the girls from being killed (that cost extra and had to be planned for in advance, since it took one of the girls off the floor or out of circulation, and lowered the amount of profits they brought in) or maimed. They also got to use the services of the girls for free, though "off the clock". Rarely did anyone make problems for the Club, and Meltaeu had it pretty easy. Sure, the Syndicate was rumored to be moving in, and some said that Concord was making a "to do" about "cracking down" on the Cartel, but it was usually just that, rumor, and the station guards were easily bribed. Hell, out here in Essence lowsec, they looked the other way for a tumble with a girl and some time in a private room. The ones that didnt like it or were known squealers, well, the Cartel had uses for them too. You always needed a good object lesson every now and then to keep the wheels turning smoothly. Besides, accidents happened, didnt they? Lesharu lived, and survived, and made it, day by day. Some were worse than others, but she got up and did her shift and ate and drank and breathed. Each day, a little more of her would die, and each day, hope was less. Each day, she felt, her "voice" grew smaller. She often wondered if God could even hear her, her voice was so quiet and small. Surely, He would have come for her by now. Surely the lessons she had learned had been enough? She barely remembered the lessons of the priests and the lessons of her "nannies" when she was young, but she remembered that learning came with a price, and they had taught her that that price was often hard, and painful. Hadnt she learned enough? When she thought on this, she cried, and as she cried, hope grew dimmer, her voice smaller.
Veron Daerth Amarr Blood Meridian	Posted - 2008.08.02 05:17:00 - [10] The man was... strange. Something about him sparked a memory in Lesharu's mind. He seemed .. familiar somehow. His robes were of deep red, banded with gold. He was out of place, and very uncomfortable in here. She had worked long enough to know that, and to know that Meltaneu didnt like uncomfortable customers. Last week, he had hurt Tricia, hurt her badly. Tricia hadnt wanted to go with the fat man, but the man had insisted. Tricia had had to go, and Meltaneu had talked to the man "after". Tricia was new, and didnt know her place, but after Meltaneu had stood her up in the girl's cribs, and taught Tricia her place, Tricia wasnt going to ever say no to anyone again. Meltaneu had had to call in the Cartel's local "mender" to fix her up, and even then she was going to limp for the rest of her life. Luckily, her face would heal in time. Lesharu wanted to get a better look at the man, but didnt dare stop paying attention to her current mark. The dark haired woman whose lap she was sitting on was a known patron of the Starshine Club, and was also known for her "strong arm" in the private rooms. Lesharu hoped she wouldnt pick her for tonite, when the woman went off after the last Arena match. The Arena vid-casts got the woman very worked up, and the girls that went with her after the matches told stories of terrible pain and often brutal beatings. The guards kept her from killing the girls and boys of the Club, but the woman was rumored to be able to bring her victims close enough to death that you couldnt tell the difference. When Meltaneu made his hourly appearance, the man grew focused and obviously was watching Meltaneu, but that was nothing new. Many people came here looking for Meltaneu and many people never left when they found him. Lesharu hoped the man wasnt going to cause problems, it always turned out badly when they did. She turned back to the woman and hoped her lapse of attention had gone unnoticed. Luckily for her, it had, the current Arena match was a close one, and was being hard fought. The woman that held Lesharu was engrossed in the screen, her eyes alight with satisfaction in the bloody bout before her. The battle being broadcast was a deathmatch, and both participants were giving it their all, much to the delight of the spectators. The woman had picked Marcus, an older boy. Lesharu did not envy him his night with the woman, but she was happy she hadnt been chosen. The man in red had left soon after Meltaneu had gone back upstairs. He had seemed to enjoy himself after a time, and had never looked directly at Meltaneu, but she would have sworn the man's attention had never left him. She hadnt managed to get a good look at him, but something about him nagged at her, whispered in her mind. Lesharu couldnt understand it, but a small voice whispered that maybe, something was going to change. That night, Lesharu said her prayers, as she had been taught. She always said them, but remembered a time when she had believed in the words, had believed that she was being taught a lesson. She remembered asking God to please please please take her away from here, that she would be good, would do anything for Him if He would only make it stop. But it never did, and though, today, Lesharu said the words, she almost didnt believe them. She went through the motions, but didnt really expect to be answered. As she whispered her prayers, her voice was so small, so quiet in the darkness of her crib.

Veron Daerth Amarr Blood Meridian	Posted - 2008.08.02 05:17:00 - [11] Lord Holder Veron Daerth had seen some disgusting places in his time, but this place was one of the worst. Why his friend had asked him to find this Meltaneu Borreus character, he didnt know. What he did know was that he owed Sean a great honor debt, and as a Holder of the Empire, was bound to honor it. So here he was sitting in a horrid excuse for a club, in a pathetic excuse for a station in this remote deadspace pocket. Sean had asked him to find the man named Meltaneu and then watch him for a few days and then contact him back in Aunia. That had been about three weeks ago. In that time, Veron had been pointed down one and another false trails, chased down false leads, and investigated false tips. He was becoming good and tired of this seemingly fruitless chase. Finally, he had tracked down a man that had informed him that the one he sought was running this "fine establishment" of sin and ill repute on behalf of the Angel Cartel. Now he sat in one of the more secluded booths sipping a glass of fine Neridan White. Say what you would of the fools that ran this place, they had good taste in wine. There! The man descending the stairs fit the description stored in his cranial implant. Now all he had to do was watch him and then report his success to Sean. Then perhaps he could leave this God-forsaken place and shower for a month. Veron's target wandered the room, never unattended, never alone. If one of the guards employed by the club wasnt obviously around Meltaneu, all you had to do was look a bit harder to see the ring of protection surrounding him. Well, whatever Sean wanted with Meltaneu, getting to him wasnt going to be easy when he was in the club. Veron made a mental note to detail one of the more appropriate members of his crew to shadow the Gallentean, perhaps his personal quarters could be found and hacked, who knew. First, he had to get hold of Sean. But that could wait, he had to stay for a bit longer so as to not rouse suspicion and then he could leave. As Veron sat there, sipping his wine, several girls, two little more than small children, came up to him and asked if he wished "company". He of course refused, but shook his head to himself. The sin and despair and seething corruption rampant in here almost stifled him. The look of washed out apathy, covered with false gaiety, on the faces of the older girls almost made him wish he had a detail of Marines from the ship. The suppressed despair and fear of the younger slaves filled him with rage, but he controlled it, and himself. Perhaps he could come back after this business was finished, though that would be almost as foolish and suicidal as making a scene alone was. Whatever he did, the Cartel did not like him, and he had to be careful lest they have some reason to look closely at the false registration markings and the hastily covered sigil that marked his vessel (and her pilot) as an enemy of the Cartel. He watched the behavior of the other patrons and beheld a living, breathing cesspool of depravity and vileness. It would be an act of supreme beneficence to wipe them from the face of Creation. Who knew, the universe would probably be better without them all. Perhaps he could come back with some friends and do the universe a favor.
Veron Daerth Amarr Blood Meridian	Posted - 2008.08.02 05:18:00 - [12] Lord Daerth was quite displeased. Kelis Val'Daerth, slave-soldier, guard captain, and loyal retainer of the House Daerth knew this from the silence with which his lord stood in front of the vast expanse of the armorglass that provided a panoramic view of space ahead of the Apocalypse Class Battleship "Gate of Balcora". Well, it usually had a view of space, now it showed the darkened interior of a standard Gallentean station docking port. Lord Daerth had stood here for about an hour or so after finishing up his communication with his friend Sean Fichara. Kelis knew Lord Daerth did not wish to be here, knew that Lord Daerth felt pain and internal turmoil from watching the souls that suffered on the station and its environs. Kelis knew that he should leave his lord and master to his contemplations, but the time was upon them. "Lord, the time you specified has come." Kelis said quietly, seeking not to disturb the peaceful seeming serenity of the room. "Yes, Kelis, I know. And I wish things were not to be this way. I would save them all, but I cannot. There are too many for us to aid them all. So we must pick and choose. When I arrive, send Verim and Shalus to the first locations. Make it low key, and for the love of God, tell them not to make any mistakes. One slip now, and we all die here." "Yes Lord, I know. It shall be done, come storm or strife." Kelis knew the men were well trained for this. The battleship's crew had time and more time to train and prepare. Lord Daerth may have been a pod pilot, but he always saw to the care of his crews, and their training. The House soldiers he had tasked with this job were among the best. There would be no mistakes, no failure. The honor of the House was at stake, the honor of their Lord. They must not fail. Veron sat at the same table and hoped his discomfort didnt show. He didnt want to be here again. It was dangerous and it was also somewhat foolish. But he wanted to make the choices himself, instead of leaving it to another. Say what you would of Lord Holder Veron Daerth, unwillingness to face the consequences of his decisions wasnt one of his faults. He noted a young girl in the lap of a rather vicious looking woman and silently marked her in his implant. Another child slave made her rounds of the club floor and served the drinks her client had obviously ordered, her face somewhat bruised and swollen. He marked her too. Over the next two hours Lord Holder Veron Daerth marked the faces and body shapes of fifteen slaves in his implant. He chose the survivors, those that would live through the coming storm, he hoped. He chose the youngest, the ones that looked to have the best chance of making it through the gauntlet that was sure to be waiting them when the night was over. He made his decisions, and the Angel of Death marked the rest, though they knew it not. He saw the little girl with the black hair watching him. He saw the look in her eyes, and knew it would haunt him for some time to come. May God forgive him, for what he was about to do.
Veron Daerth Amarr Blood Meridian	Posted - 2008.08.02 05:19:00 - [13] Lesharu lay on her pallet, in her darkened crib. The few possessions she owned were hidden in a small hole in the wall behind her. She whispered to herself. Soemtimes, there in the dark, she could make believe that this was all a dream and that her Mistress, the Mistress she barely remembered, would come and wake her. They would go and Lesharu would serve tea and small cakes. The great veranda would open onto the hillside and the sun would be coming over the wide horizon. But it never happened. Lesharu always knew it wasnt real. So when the voice whispered to her "child, be silent and come with us", she wasnt sure if was real or make believe. She knew it was real though, when the rough and calloused hand clamped over her mouth. She fought, a bit. But she was small, and there is no 9 year old child that can withstand the strength and power of a trained soldier. She was shaken a bit, and the voice spoke again. "We arent here to harm you, but make a sound, and we will have to kill you. Do you understand?" She nodded and was quiet like a mouse as they passed her through a hole that had been cut in the wall behind her. She was so frightened that she didnt realize that the voice spoke a language she knew from a long time ago. A language she had rarely heard in her time here. The language she had grown up with. Lord Daerth wasnt happy with the time it was taking to do this. Kelis saw the tense look on his face. The way it set like stone, the coldness in his eyes, there in the shadows of his hood. They both stood next to a grav-lift with a small squad of heavily armed and armored House Marines to guard them. Kelis was slightly amused at the incongruity of the scene. A slight man in a red and gold robe surrounded by men in hulking suits of black and gold combat armor. He wondered what someone would say if they stumbled upon them at this moment. The corridor in both directions was deserted. This deep in the bowels of the Environmental Section of the station, few ever ventured. The robots and drones that maintained these places didnt care about humans, they proceeded about their tasks, oblivious to the actions around them. Presently, the lift buzzed, and the doors opened to reveal two men in un-powered half armor and eight people ranging from a child of no more than seven standard years to a young male of perhaps fourteen. "Lord, I am sorry for the delay", the senior of the two, Marine Sergeant Shalus Val'Daerth reported, "but there was a slight altercation with one of the targets guards during the extraction phase." "Is the guard alive?" No, my Lord, he died but did not have time to send a call for aid or to alert the target." Lord Daerth dismissed the soldier and the slaves in the lift. The soldiers ushered them toward a nearby room, and began to debrief the slaves as to the layout of the facility they had, until recently, inhabited. Shortly, the lift buzzed again and Marine Corporal Verim and another soldier debarked with the remaining seven slaves. Verim too, reported in and then was dismissed. The last set of slaves was taken to another room and their debriefing started. Kelis watched as Lord Daerth stood, seemingly lost in thought. He hoped this mission would be done soon. He wanted to get the Lord back to the safety of the ship and her layers of thick armor. Kelis Val'Daerth watched his Lord, and prayed that he would see his own wife and child again. He prayed his Lord could successfully bring them out of the fire that was sure to come once again.
Veron Daerth Amarr Blood Meridian	Posted - 2008.08.02 05:20:00 - [14] Lesharu didnt know what to make of it all. The men that took her from her crib brought her through the system of utility tunnels that ran through the structure of the station to a little used corridor. They moved quietly, and kept the other slaves close. There were two men and nine slaves all together in her group. They were met by two more men and six more slaves she recognized at a junction of the corridor. One of the men that escorted her group nodded to one of the men that were with the others. The other man seemed to be in charge and spoke to the man with her group. "Verim, where in the Hells have you been? We were beginning to think you werent going to make the time." "Sorry Sergeant Shalus, but we ran into some trouble. A guard was with one of the boys, and well... he wasnt leaving anytime soon, so we had to deal with him." "God above. Did he get off a signal or anything?" "No sir, he went down quick and quiet. He was... distracted, and didnt even know we were there till the blade went in." Good, lets get this show on the road. I dont know about Lord Daerth, but I want to get this crap done and get out of here. If we hurry, we can still make chow in the morning, and cook's got some good stuff on the menu." At this, the men laughed quietly and separated the slaves into two groups. Lesharu was taken into the first group and they all got onto the grav-lift. She was so frightened she didnt realize she was shaking. The hand that gripped her shoulder almost made her jump out of her skin. "Relax child, your not going to be harmed. In fact, you have just been given an opportunity." The man, Shalus, squatted down in front of her and took her shoulders in his hands. "When we get down to the bottom of the lift, you will be asked some questions", his eyes moved to look at all the other slaves, "you all will be asked some questions." The mans eyes returned to her face. "Do not be afraid, just tell the men what they want to know, be honest. When they are done, you will be taken to another place and given new clothes. You will then be escorted to a ship, and taken from this place." The man ruffled her hair, and smiled. "Lord Daerth will make a decision as to what to do with you all, but you will not be harmed or hurt. The Lord will not allow that to happen anymore. In his Name and on the honor of his House whixh I serve, I will not allow that to happen either." He stood up and looked at them all, "I have my orders, so lets get them done and we can all get out of here." The man was quiet for the rest of the ride down the lift. Lesharu thought about what he had said. Someone was going to get her out of here, someone was going to protect her? She had to be dreaming now. This couldnt be real. She pinched herself, pleading in her mind to wake up. The hand gripped her shoulder again. "Its real child, I would not lie to you. We all may die soon, but its real." Lesharu was numb. She couldnt speak, she could barely breathe. This was real?? How? Why now? Would they all be taken away? Was this just another trick? Had God finally heard her?
Veron Daerth Amarr Blood Meridian	Posted - 2008.08.02 05:20:00 - [15] Kelis watched as the last charge was placed on the housing of the tertiary power relay. The staff that should have attended the relays and the myriad of conduits that fed the power core pulsing in the heart of the room lay strewn in bloody heaps about the consoles and the hatch that led to the primary power junction in the next room. A few had tried to run, but you couldnt outrun a pulse cannon, and they just died tired. The info-techs had disabled the comms to this level, and had looped a false signal into the lines. The station control crew had no idea that one of the stations primary power generation systems was being rigged to blow. The blast would rip the heart out of the adjacent levels, disable the stations fixed defenses, and hopefully cause enough confusion to allow them all to escape. The "Balcora" was a good ship, but she wasnt indestructible. Every advantage that they could make for themselves made it just that much more likely they would all live another day. It was to bad that the station control crew would have to die, but the majority of them were in the pay of the Cartel, and the rest... well, the way Kelis looked at it, you couldnt make an omelette without breaking some eggs. Since it was the night shift, there wouldnt be many of them anyway. At least it would be quick. Below, in the docking rings, fifteen former slaves of the Angel Cartel made their way down a little used maintenance shaft that connected to the berth holding the Gate of Balcora. With them were a small squad of men in half armor. They made their way into the berth across the boarding tube. When they reached the hatch set into the golden hull of the ship, it sighed open, and they filed in. behind them, the hatch slid shut and then sealed with a hollow thud. In the spacious rooms behind the Starshine Club, the silence was broken by a soft, hushed, fwip fwip fwip. With each sound, one of the guards standing around a security console fell, tiny holes marring their facial features. Hidden in the air return duct down the corridor, the sniper smiled grimly. A perfect set of shots. His job complete, he moved to the fallback position. Below him, a full squad of House Marines moved from the utility tunnels into the corridor. They were undetected for now. But that might soon change. They advanced toward the doors at the end of the hall. Upon reaching them, one of the Marines took a position at the console, and using a card secured from one of the corpses, locked out all the emergency lines leading from this level to Central Security. The Station Security on this level couldnt be locked out, but that would matter little. The Marines took position around the doors and waited. Behind them, a man in a robe of deep red, trimmed with gold, stepped out of the utility tunnel. His face was cold and set. His eyes were like the blackness of deepest space. He radiated menace and something...something frightening, something pitiless, something cold and dark and not altogether human. The man stood back, shadowed in an alcove behind his men. He waited for a signal. The Station guard snoozed, his feet propped on the hard casing of his console. His stunner holster was laid across the back of the chair. His partner read the news bulletins and hoped for the end of shift to come. Behind them, six more men shared the cramped room, each of them doing something to stay awake and keep himself occupied. Each counted down the time in his or her head until the shift was over. One of them thought to herself, "By the Gods, I hate this job sometimes."
Veron Daerth Amarr Blood Meridian	Posted - 2008.08.02 05:21:00 - [16] The signal came. Lord Veron Daerth smiled, somewhere inside himself. He flicked his finger at the squad leader, and watched as the breaching charge was placed on the center of each doors panel. Soon, soon it would be done and he could go home. The squad leader gave him an affirmative signal. Lord Holder Veron Daerth nodded at the man. The leader stepped up to the charge and pulled both lanyards. The charges blasted the reinforced doors into the room, killing several of the participants of the orgy ensuing on the other side. Most of the guests scrambled for their personal weapons, and the guards, some Starshine Club men and others personal guards of the guests, opened fire when the leaders combat armor suit appeared in the opening of the door. But the suit of powered combat armor shrugged off the hail of incoming fire. It wouldnt last forever, some of the guards and guests has some rather heavy weapons in there, but it lasted long enough. The Squad Leader swung up his suit mounted flechette cannon and triggered a long burst into the room. As each round left one of the three rotating barrels, it separated into five thin, finned darts of metal. The darts wouldnt breach the hull of a ship, or damage systems behind hulls and bulkheads, but at 950 rounds a minute, they turned unarmored human flesh into ground meat. At that moment several shots from a heavy rifle cracked the carapace protecting the soldiers upper torso. He fell, wounded, but not dead, and was dragged out by those coming in behind him. He had done his job though. The long burst had suppressed incoming fire long enough for the two men behind him to fire four concussion grenades into the room. the rest of the squad moved in and began to pick off stunned or fleeing shapes. They did not have time to be picky. If it moved or seemed to be a threat, it died. In a short time, the fire slackened, then died. The assistant Squad Leader appeared in the door and beckoned his Lord to follow him. Lord Veron Daerth walked into hell. He passed through his men, and rapped on the door at the end of the room. "Meltaneu Borreus, you may open this door, or my men will blow it down. You have no escape. The lift behind the bookshelf is inoperable, and Security has been disabled. Your guards have been... dealt with." A small and cold smile crept across Veron's face. "Of course, blasting this door down would carry the risk of killing you, and we wouldnt want that, now would we? But time flies, my friend, and so do your choices." As he spoke, the men of his squads moved about the room, finishing off the wounded. The slaves that had unfortunately been caught in the crossfire were given a merciful quick death. They would expect much worse from those that came here after this was all over. The s****that had a chance of making it were sent along their paths to God. Those that the medics judged to be fatal were left to die in their own time. Sometimes they were helped along by the House Daerth slave-soldiers. One of the Station serving staff, a young female of Intaki origin was found to be alive behind the bar. They could not afford to leave any trace behind them or anyone to sound an alarm too soon, but a quick shake of Lord Daerth's head spared her life. She would be brought along, and later released after they reached Aunia. Behind him, the locks of the armored door clicked. Meltaneu had chosen his path. The more fool him, the Assistant Squad Leader thought. Lord Daerth was not in a pleasant mood.
Veron Daerth Amarr Blood Meridian	Posted - 2008.08.02 05:22:00 - [17] Meltaneu Borreus was thrown back into the room when the door burst inward. It was driven with all the power that a armored boot could impart to it. The fact that the boot was part of a powered armor suit helped. The door struck Meltaneu in the face, and smashed his nose. Stunned, he fell back, and curled up. Two pairs of gloved hands grasped his upper arms and dragged him to his knees. He was forced to remain there, waiting. A moment later, a figure moved through the dust and residual smoke of combat that engulfed the outer chamber, and resolved itself into a somewhat tall, thing figure in a red robe. The sigil that woven into the golden hem of the robe matched the ones emblazoned in gold on the black shoulderguards of the armored Marines that held him. The eyes of the men that held him had no pity, just a distant interest, much like the eyes of slaver hounds that are watching something that might be prey, and yet might not. The eyes of the man approaching him were... not. They were black; deep, like the pools of still water found in the darkest of forests. The eyes held nothing in them, not rage, not hate, not fear, not anything. It was as if the Abyss looked out at him from those two wells of darkness. Then it smiled. The voice sounded like a mans, and yet did not. It was like a siblant hiss, like a smooth quiet dry whisper of desert wind, devoid of life. It chilled him to the bone. A hand reached up and pulled back the hood of the robe. The thing smiled at him and said, "Well well, what have we here. Meltaneu Borreus, agent of the Angel Cartel, smuggler, pimp, murderer, rapist, a darkness among the darkest. I have a few questions friend, and you would do well to answer them." A quick pain in his neck. One of the guards removed the needle and returned it to one of the medics he hadnt noticed enter. He began to panic, fire rushed in his veins. Terrible cramps began to form in his gut. "You have noticed the effects of the toxin already? Interesting, they usually take longer to manifest. Regardless, you must answer, and then I will reward you with the antidote, an end to the pain, yes?" Meltaneu managed to nod, and one of the soldiers holding him cuffed his head, "Speak when your addressed by the Lord." He managed to choke out a strangled "yes". The questions began. A time that seemed an eternity later, the slave-soldiers released him. He fell to the floor and clutched his stomach in agony. The thing that had spoken to him moved out the door. "Please", Meltaneu gasped, "please, you promised. Give me the antidote. Make it stop, please." The figure stopped and the men in armor moved around him and out of the room. The figure held up his hand and one of the Marines stopped. "Yes, yes I did didnt I. Well, you have given us the codes, and my men inform me that they work. The assets are being transferred as we speak. The accounts will be emptied soon. Since you have upheld your end of the bargain, Meltaneu Borreus, I will as well. One last question, though." "Anything, please." "In all your years of running this operation, have you shown mercy to those you so harshly abused? When the small ones begged, did you relent? When they struggled and bled for your amusement, did their pleas move you to mercy?" Meltaneu did not answer, just wept and clutched himself. The figure stood silently for a time. "No, then? Nothing at all? A pity, Meltaneu Borreus." The figure leaned close and grabbed a handful of his hair. Wrenching his head painfully around, it whispered to him, "May your mercy be repaid in full, may your wisdom be celebrated, and may you be Judged fairly. Have your mercy Meltaneu Borreus. Let no one say I ever went back on my word." Letting his head drop, the figure stepped out of the room. It looked back at the Marine. "Show him the mercy he deserves, grant him his rewards." The Marine smiled, much like a slaver hound. A hound that scented prey. The blade came down, all was black, black like the eyes of Lord Daerth.
Veron Daerth Amarr Blood Meridian	Posted - 2008.08.02 05:23:00 - [18] Lesharu waited in the room with the other slaves from the Starshine Club. The soldiers that had brought them here had left them in the care of four older women. All four women wore soft white robes, each with a sigil embroidered above their heart. They brought clean clothes and took the slaves to another place. This place was full of mirrors and sinks, the far walls were taken up with what appeared to be a series of open stalls, each with a showerhead and rack. The lights were somewhat subdued and everything had a somewhat unreal appearance to Lesharu's eyes. The women spoke to them and told them that the slaves were to take a towel and use the various facilities to clean themselves. They were then to dress in the clothes laid out for them on the bench by the door. They would not be disturbed. The women left and the slaves looked at each other. This was too much. One of the littler girls began to silently cry. She shook and shook. One of the older girls held her and shushed her, but to no avail. Soon most of them were weeping and shaking and sitting on the floor. Lesharu stood apart from them and just watched, she didnt feel anything yet, she wasnt sure if it was a dream or not. After a time, the slaves got up and began to wash. Lesharu did as she was bidden and washed. It felt.... good. The hot water flowed over her. The slaves were washed in the Club, but only once every few days and they used the sinks in the upstairs latrine the rest of the time. This was different. The fixtures were worn, and somewhat aged, but it was clear they were well cared for. The tiling in front of her was decorated with glyphs and sigils and small phrases she couldnt read. When they were done, they clothed themselves and were taken to rooms. They were told to wait there, and someone would be along to get them in time. Lesharu went to sleep, feeling clean for the first time in ... well, a long time. The squads egressed through the upper corridors of the Club's level. Power was cut to the halls and the lights were out. That got Security's attention, and they expected contact with a light response team soon. Lord Veron Daerth walked in the wake of his Marines. They knew their jobs, and he did not doubt them. They had to make it to the ship before the time delay loop being fed to Central Security was hacked and disabled. His techs were good, but not infinitely good. Time was against them. Minutes later a small reaction team of Station Security rounded the corner and came face to face with a full squad of armored Marines. Their hand lights played off the black surfaces of the armor. It reflected off the composite faceshields of the combat helmets. One of them had time to speak. "**** me running" echoed in the silence of the moment, then was drowned in a cascade of rifle and cannon reports. The squad echeloned forward over their corpses. Alarms began to sound across the entire level of the station. The raiders moved faster, making for the docking rings below. Three levels down, they hustled out of the lift and onto the docking apron. The covered the apron as their Lord and the wounded were taken into the docking arm, and then into the ship. They withdrew behind the last of the medics. The hatches sealed and for a bit, all was quiet.
Veron Daerth Amarr Blood Meridian	Posted - 2008.08.02 05:23:00 - [19] As the pod sealed around him, Lord Holder Veron Daerth reflected on the chances of them making it out of this unscathed. The ship was a good ship, and had served him well. The crew was well trained and were good men and women. They would come through, as they had in the past, it remained up to him to lead them out of this. The engines spun up, their antimatter cores warming to life. The massive reactors buried in the heart of the ship began to feed power to the vessel's systems. The engineers worked and monitored their output, bringing them fully online. Shield systems came online and began to form their protective barriers around the ships hull. Weapons systems came to life and began their self diagnostic routines. Armor repair systems completed their test cycles and awaited the commands that would bring them into action. Veron sent out a single thought and alarms sounded within the battleships massive hull. Her crew awoke from sleep or dropped their tasks and rushed to battlestations. It was time to leave. The charges planted on the casings of the power relays exploded. The raw energy contained within them was released and blasted upward and outward. The power rooms were designed to contain the blast, but all Gallentean station designs had some little known flaws in the emergency containment bulkheads. A series of relatively small charges placed to expose those flaws enabled the blast wave to destroy the bulkhead. The explosion damaged the containment system of the power generator in the adjacent room. It held through the initial explosion, but it was failing, it was just a matter of time. Time for the residents to get out of the area. Evacuation alarms began to sound. In the docking rings, chaos erupted. Crews fought to reach their ships, pilots deluged Station Docking Central with requests for departure. The massive docking control systems momentarily lost power from the surge of a secondary explosion. Central Control was gone, wiped away in the initial blast, and suddenly, Station Security had something much more immediate to worry about than a supposed squad of armored raiders. Central Docking Control began to issue departure authorizations, eager to get as many out as they could in case of catastrophe. Deep in the bowels of the Station the damaged containment systems of the power core gave out. The blast resounded throughout the structure of the station. By a miracle, the saboteurs had failed to immediately detonate the core itself. Their incompetence meant that the surrounding sections could be evacuated and the loss of life was extremely minimal. The cores destruction could not be halted, but the time lag between the first explosions and its containment failure meant that damage control systems could be activated. The blast was terrific, but damaged little that had not been harmed in the initial explosion of the adjacent relays. Deep inside the Gate of Balcora, Lord Holder Veron Daerth smiled. The loss of life was minimal, and the vast majority that had died were criminals, even if the law could not or would not touch them. The few that were not were undoubtedly in the hands of God. He took a moment to pray for their souls, lost this day. The Cartel had suffered a blow today, if a minor one, and he had upheld the debt of honor he owed to his friend Sean. For now though, he needed to find a safespot to stop in. To rest, to meditate, to let the crew relax and to speak to the slaves he had acquired. The man in the pod thought, and the Balcora aligned to her new heading. She left chaos in her wake, but the locals would recover and would have a story to tell their grandchildren. In the wrecked remains of the Starshine Club, agents of the Cartel worked to remove all evidence of its presence here, they had other agents on the station and it would not do to leave any evidence of their existence, however small, behind. Meltaneu Borreus' corpse was left for the authorities to find.
Veron Daerth Amarr Blood Meridian	Posted - 2008.08.02 05:24:00 - [20] The Gate of Balcora floated alone, deep in the darkness between the stars. Lesharu stood alone in a big room. She looked out at the tiny points of brilliance that spread out before her like a sea of light. The room was dark, and she quietly stood. Perhaps it was all real. A man had come. A man in a robe of deep, dark red, hemmed with gold. Slave-soldiers had stood behind him, and the one that had spoken to her in the lift was with them. He had smiled at her, then his face cleared when the man in red entered. The man in red stood silently for a time, then spoke. He had asked if they had family or anyone that would or could claim them. One of the elder boys had raised his hand and the man had nodded to one of the soldiers with him. The soldier took the boy aside and spoke to him for a time. The soldier wrote some things down. Then the boy was led away and the soldier returned. He stood just behind his Lord and Master. The man in red asked them where they would like to go, but no-one spoke. They didnt know where they were, they had little or no skills, where should they go? Lesharu hadnt any idea what to do or say. Silence stretched out. Someone coughed. The man looked... vexed. He obviously hadnt expected this. He had planned for a somewhat ... different response. He had than asked them if they would accept his aid and protection until they could make their own choices. They had looked at each other and the slaves of the Starshine Club came to an a decision. They agreed. They were taken from that room and assigned quarters separate from the rest of the crew. Lesharu had wandered for a time, and had entered a grav-lift. The nav map was impossible for her to read, so she told the computer to take her "somewhere she could see out." After digesting this, the computer routed the lift pod to the observation deck. That was where Lesharu was when he came. The hatch opened silently, spilling light against the expanse of glass. The man in the robe stood framed in its light. The soldier was with him, still. His voice was quiet, hushed. "Kelis, wait outside." "Yes my Lord." The man moved forward and touched the glass. The cold of space seeped through it, despite the heating systems and force fields that kept it from freezing his had to the touch. They stood silently for a time. Lesharu stared out at the infinte depths and waited. She didnt feel anything, not fear, not despair, not anything. She saw the way the stars glittered like gems. The man beside her did not speak, did not move, simply stood and watched the pageant of light. A mad impulse took her. She turned to him and looked at him. He did not look real in the light of the stars. His robe was leached of color and his face was almost fully hidden in the depths of his hood. What she could see was angular, hard, cold, distant as the silent stars outside. She looked him over for a time. The whisper, the shred of doubt gnawed at her, eventually she spoke, partly to see if he was real, partly to see if she was dreaming.

Veron Daerth Amarr Blood Meridian	Posted - 2008.08.02 05:25:00 - [21] The room was silent, dark. The stars outside the expanse of armorglass inset along the forward curve of the hull shone steadily, filling the room with a play of light. The walls were leached of their golden coloring, the glyphs and decorations muted in the light of eternity. A girl-child, of no more than nine standard years entered, and stood, alone for a time. What she saw or sought in the stars light is only known to her. After a time, a man enters. He stops short. He is not alone in his sanctuary. His voice is hushed, muted as he dismisses his guardian. The slave-soldier leaves to stand outside the room. The man moves forward, silently, like a wraith. His robes of darkest red are muted, leached of color. The golden trim is washed in the starlight, muted and wan. He stands beside the child. They both stare out into the stygian depths of space. Both are like ghosts, echoes of mere mortals caught outside of space and time. The silence is unbroken between them. She turn to him, and looks him over, seeking something, measuring him with her eyes. Eyes that are old and worn in a face that is outwardly young. Eyes that betray a soul battered and torn and bruised and wise far beyond the years of its shell. She speaks, a single word that ripples around the room. "Why?" Such heartache and pain to be conveyed in a single word, such betrayal and sadness and despair and anger and soul deep anguish, fit to crack the foundations of a world. A scream of a lifetime of agony, whispered in a word. The man turns to her. He understands, and considers his response. His face is like stone, cold, unyielding. His voice, when it comes, is a distant and pitiless as the stars outside. "Because they can do it, because it must happen, and it happened to you. Because we all are flawed, and have free will. We use it to do things, and those things harm others." Again the small voice echoes. "Does God not love me? Was I punished? What did I do?" A tear streaks her face. The mans hand catches it as it runs down her chin. He hold it up to the light and considers it. The voice is still harsh, rough, distant, and devoid of emotion. "God tests us all, child. Yours has been a truly harsh test, perhaps the harshest he can give. But you have weathered it, come through it. You have proven your worth to God, beyond the measure of other Men. That you ask that question means you have never failed in your Faith. Your words and actions have given the proof of that Faith, past the need of mortal proofs and tests, and none can take that from you, to your dying day. You will leave here a slave no longer. You will take your place in my House. You will be enrolled as my child, and you will have my Name and the Name of my House as your own, Lesharu. The Test of your Faith will continue throughout your life, doubt it not, but you have done so very well. God did not punish you, my child, and in the end your words did you ultimate justice." "Why? Why did He not hear me? Was I too small for Him? Too quiet?" Them man is silent for a time. He stars out at the stars. He turns to the child, kneels before her, and pulls back the hood of the robe. His face is still distant, still hard, but his eyes are not. He looks at her small face, at the tears that course down it. He places his hand on her head. "Child of mine, men can shout and plead and beg. They can threaten and cajole and bluster. They are noisy and raucous. But the mercy of God is infinite, and His wisdom boundless. He hears us all, from the heights of our joy, to the depths of our deepest despair. I believe he sent me for you, to bring you out of that darkness. He hears everything, Lesharu, even the smallest of voices." She weeps. He stands and holds her close, and they both watch the stars in silence. The tears course down in silence, washing away a lifetime of despair, of loneliness, of heartache. She had been heard, finally, at last, always, the smallest of voices.
Buduran Amarr	Posted - 2008.08.02 13:22:00 - [22] You, mister, have talent.
Sean Fiachra	Posted - 2008.08.02 17:12:00 - [23] Very nice!. I will take this moment to remind you that you, sir, are a *****. My pointers are like golden drops of brilliance that fall upon those who dare to turn away from the squirrels, and you should be thankful for them. When the ducks steal your pants you will understand.
Stitcher Caldari Duty.	Posted - 2008.08.02 17:32:00 - [24] Originally by: Buduran You, mister, have talent. Seconded. - Lt. Verin "Stitcher" Tarn-Hakatain.
Veron Daerth Amarr Blood Meridian	Posted - 2008.08.02 21:19:00 - [25] Originally by: Veron Daerth The credit shit changed hands and just as fast, the people on the bus were sold back into slavery, just to a different overlord. D@mn it, this was supposed to be credit chit. My bad you all.
Stitcher Caldari Duty.	Posted - 2008.08.03 00:58:00 - [26] the profanity filter on this forum really is a complete screwup, isn't it? - Lt. Verin "Stitcher" Tarn-Hakatain.

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