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CelestialFlea

CONCORD SECURITY INTELLIGENCE REPORT YC126

INVESTIGATOR:(Classified)

OPERATION: 120-19

(Above Image generated by AI, simply to add flavor to the story)

SUBJECT: Asari Joninn

AGE: Unknown

Clone status: ACTIVE

WARRANT: Immediate Authorization

Obtaining accurate information about Ms. Joninn has been particularly challenging as she does not allow anyone outside of her tribe to get close to her without close scrutiny from their vetting procedures. But from what I’ve been able to gather, she’s referred to as ‘The Matriarch’. The leader of the tribe, which seems to hold similarities to Brutor customs and ideologies. I will therefor assume she is of Brutor descent.

Though I suppose I should really be calling her organization a cult at this point as I’ve observed all of the behaviors you would expect of a cult. One that is growing in numbers. They also don’t seem to align to any of the current Minmitar beliefs.

During my very brief time with them posing as a maintenance engineer, spanning a few days I personally witnessed this woman and many members of her cult openly engage in terrorist activities; encouraging, organizing and engaging in acts of subterfuge, espionage, sabotage and acts of mass destruction as well as murder.

INVESTIGATOR LOG ENTRY: C-32118 - YC122

Joninn called for an assembly of her tribe. There was a lot of talk amidst members, many were excited to be hearing from their Matriarch, as public speeches were not a regular occurrence. But older clan members seemed much more apprehensive, some believed Joninn had discovered a collaborator and they worried it would only fuel tensions and paranoia within the tribe.

I think they already suspect there are collaborators, they just don’t know who but they don’t seem to suspect me. At least, not yet.

FILE: C-32119 (AudioOnly) - Time Index 113.2

Asari Joninn: “They try to silence our voices with diplomacy and empty words, whilst they continue to enslave our brothers and our sisters. They offer us food, warmth and the freedom of Amarr space. Yet our brothers and our sisters STARVE and languish in their factories, being forced to make weapons and machines with which they enslave more of our brethren RIGHT UNDER THE VERY NOSES OF THE EMPIRE.

We cannot let this continue, we MUST NOT let this continue, we must hold our leaders ACCOUNTABLE and make them pay for their failure to act, for their failure to liberate our brothers and our sisters.

THIS…Is, was one of their so-called diplomats who came to us with promises of peace, prosperity and amnesty if we laid down arms. Even under the guise of diplomacy they are trying to force us into accepting THEIR way of life. That is not freedom, that is slavery!

Our enemies will try to tell us that holding the severed head of a peaceful diplomat in the air as a trophy, is an undignified and barbaric end to a life. Do not let their sense of morality cloud your conviction. The death suffered by this one man by my hands IS NOTHING compared to what our brothers and our sisters must endure every waking moment of their lives by the hands of our enemies.

You would do well to remember this, the next time you question your loyalty. Anyone found collaborating with the enemy, will meet the same fate.”

INVESTIGATOR LOG ENTRY: C-32119 - YC122

Joninn gathered a few of her trusted followers for a secret meeting. I was able to hide in some access vents to observe the meeting, but there was too much noise interference for clear audio, my auditory implants allowed me to hear most of the discussion.

From what I gathered they had learned of a particular planetary infrastructure installation that was vital to Amarrian industry. They had learned that many of the commonly utilized Customs Offices were still using outdated Upwell systems architecture.

They had discovered that they could trigger a catastrophic overload by initiating a feedback loop within the structure's power systems. They had someone on the inside willing to give them the security decryption key they needed to bypass the failsafes for a modest price.

INVESTIGATOR LOG ENTRY: C-32120 - YC122

Even though my mission is to simply observe and gather evidence I felt it was my duty to try to save lives. But I couldn’t warn my contacts in time, communications were blocked due to said operations. Needless to say an infrastructure hub in an undisclosed area of Amarr space was destroyed following a catastrophic failure in the power subsystems. 23 structure employees dead, 17,350,952,119 ISK in destroyed P2 & P3 assets. The Scope are already screaming for blood, I guess they must be bored of covering another Goonswarm war already.

INVESTIGATOR LOG ENTRY: C-32121 - YC122

These guys are starting to look more and more like a cult with each passing day, at first they just seemed to be a nuisance but they are becoming more dangerous, bolder and more determined. Asari Joninn's mental state is also questionable, yet oddly the more unhinged she becomes the more her followers seem to revere her.

LOG ENTRY: C-32122 - YC122

END OF FIELD ASSIGNMENT

CONCORD SECURITY ANALYSIS “Cult of Asari” YC-126

RECOMMENDED ACTION: Immediate capsuleer security briefing.

Since the initial attack three other customs offices in Amarr space and several planetary production facilities were also sabotaged and Upwell are looking to deploy a fix for the exploit as soon as possible.

More recently there have also been other terrorist incidents Concord has strong suspicions of the cults involvement, which has understandably garnered attention from the media. The cult moved entirely off-grid shortly after the last investigative entry and have proven challenging to monitor. They no longer talk to any outsiders unless it serves their agenda and have cut almost all diplomatic relations.

They’ve been dubbed “The Cult of Asari” by the Minmitar Empire who have openly condemned their actions and declared them to be ‘fanatical blood purists’. Concord agrees with this assessment given their behavior, societal and hierarchical structure.

Concord has obtained evidence to suggest the cult are using the few diplomatic channels it has left to spread misinformation to the Minmitar and Amarr governments to divert resources away from intended targets and instill political mistrust but both insist they have a handle on the situation. Further, unsubstantiated rumours suggest the cult may have found one of the legacy Amarrian clone banks pre-dating existing clone bays, but Concord has found no evidence to support this and finds no cause for concern.

Additional intelligence strongly suggests that the Cult of Asari are in the process of acquiring and illegally modifying ships, to what end is uncertain but they are undoubtedly a growing security concern as they are hell-bent on overthrowing the Minmitar government and undermining Amarr by any means necessary, they seem to have little regard for collateral damage.

Alex Sinclair's avatar
Alex SinclairMod
CelestialFlea

A super-enjoyable read! I really liked the intelligence report format, and this was a strong contender for first place. In the end, we made it a very honourable second. Great work!

CelestialFlea's avatar
CelestialFlea
Alex Sinclair

Next time Gadget, NEXT TIME! Actually enjoyed writing this one and could very easily have written over the word limit. Thankyou :D Hats off to Sturmer

A
AlexGoesTheWorld

The liberation of kin

The sky was cloudy.

The clouds hang there, grey shades of burnt yellow, shielding the land from the burning sun. However, they did not not truly shield it from its heat.

The ground felt no less hot to the callous, dirty hands of the workers. A sandy kind of dirt was the one that clung to hands and boots, to tools and machinery, to people as a whole. It also hung in the air, giving the clouds their hue, making breathing difficult, making the work even harder. It even managed to cling to the shining, perfectly polished golden surfaces of the guards and supervisors, dimming but not extinguishing the light of their Faith.

The workers toiled in the harsh environment. Coughs and grunts rung in time with the hammering of hammers and picking of pickaxes, with the creaking of carts and machinery. The occasional cry of pain wafted through the sandy air, as a guard whipped a worker that had paused too long, that had been too slow, that hadn’t been working hard enough.

That was the workers' life: sand and hard work, each and every rotation of their dusty planet, each and every revolution around their burning star. Again and again.

Suddenly the clouds parted as burning objects cut through their coverage. The workers looked up, the guards did as well. Workers and guards united in wonder, in fear, in the stillness of the moment. Nobody thought about fleeing, there would be no point anyway.

The workers wondered if their dreamed freedom had finally come, the freedom to finally reach the heavens of their ancestors, free of work, free of sand, a freedom gained through the end of the world itself. The guards, on the other hand, wondered if some kind of apocalypse was befalling on the world. Was God angry at them?!

The burning objects weren’t asteroids or some kind of debris, but, instead, they were ships. Blocky, unrefined, dark in colors. They swept in, guns blazing as they unleashed a hail of bullets on the golden compound and its ships. Explosions reverberated through the sandy air as ships and drones were hit and exploded, dark blossoms bursting up toward the sky. As chaos ensued, some guards waited for orders, some ran, some shot at the enemy in the sky, some others turned on the workers.

Workers were in a daze: they didn’t understand what was happening. They couldn’t think the freedom they had dreamed, the freedom told by the tales, tales that were themselves turning into sand, eroded by time and countless, fading recollections, was at reach, just a breath away.

One of the ships slowed down, thrusters and engines roaring. It swept above the workers, before settling down into the sand. Workers scrambled away as guards reached for their weapons. Up-close, the ship was the color of rust, of many types of rust: it looked patched up, a jury-rigging work and yet, it worked. The cargo bay doors opened, and soldiers streamed out with thundering war cries.

Workers cowered, lay on the ground as machine gun fire cut through the sandy air. Guards answered fire with fire, but they weren’t a match for the attackers: they were swept away, falling and dying amid the workers they had been supervising till mere moments before.

The first wave of soldiers run fast, seeking every guard, every enemy. The second wave reached for the workers: they extended rugged hands, the hands of long forgotten, long separated kins. They helped them up, they guided them into the belly of the rusty ship.

At long last, they had come freeing their kin.

Once full, the ship rumbled upward, shooting fast for the stars before another soon took its place. In mere hours, the burnt clouds were left contemplating an empty landscape, dotted with burning wrecks, dead bodies and the remains of what had been mining operations spanning entire continents, clawing into the ground in the name of God.

A holding pen had been liberated, more lost kins had been reconciled but it was just one of many still waiting for their liberation from the golden grasp of the Holy Faith.

Nonetheless, it was one step closer to the liberation of all Minmatar people.

OOC Commentary

This was… kind of rushed: I found out about this bounty late and I have extremely important stuff going on that limits the amount of time and effort I can put in this. Nonetheless, I didn't want to pass it up; the idea came all of sudden, as often, while doing other stuff.

I tried to keep a similar style to the Amarr piece, kind of cinematic. Amarr and Minmatar are connected and, as such, I felt it was “kind of fitting” that these two pieces of fiction would share similarities.

Written listening to Minmatar Rebel Alliance from the official EVE Online soundtrack.

Word count: 702

Sturmer's avatar
Sturmer

Shadows of Freedom

1). Bad Omens

The dimly lit command deck of the Tribe Titan Maiori Kul-Brutor buzzed with activity. Wkumi Pol, the Tribal Chief of the Brutor, stood in the center, his towering frame symbolizing strength and resolve. Around him, holographic displays flickered with data, and the hum of the ship's massive engines resonated through the walls.

The door to the command deck burst open, and Sarvin Amuchum, Wkumi's young assistant, stumbled in, his breath ragged from running through the corridors from the dock. The messenger had just arrived on a speedy Leopard shuttle, bringing news that shocked the young man so deeply that he had forgotten all sense of decorum.

“Chief Pol”, Sarvin gasped, his voice trembling with urgency, “our messenger has just docked. The news... it’s dire. Acassa Midular has convinced the other leaders to vote in favor of the Upwell workforce transfers”.

Wkumi's eyes narrowed. “Calm down, my boy”, he said, his voice a deep, rumbling presence. “The news is indeed troubling, but we must remain composed. This decision marks a great failure on our part to protect our people from a new form of slavery”.

Wkumi turned to the large viewport, staring out into the expanse of space. “When I was your age, Sarvin, I had a dream...”

2). A Dream of Freedom

Wkumi's mind drifted back to his youth. He had dreamed of a free Minmatar Republic, unshackled from the chains of Amarr oppression. The Brutors had suffered the worst under the Amarr occupation, their strength and resilience were exploited for manual labor. But they had never broken. The fire of their spirit had only burned brighter, fueling their desire for freedom.

But now, as Wkumi looked out at the vastness of space, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were trading one form of slavery for another. The corporate grip of Upwell, cloaked in the promise of innovation and progress, felt no less suffocating than the chains of the Amarr.

3). The Plan

Wkumi returned his gaze to Sarvin, who watched him with wide, anxious eyes. “We still have time before the final vote”, Wkumi said, a flicker of hope igniting in his chest. “We have two weeks to open the eyes of our people. But we must tread carefully. A public dispute could shatter our unity and bring civil war upon our heads. The Tribal Council must act as one”.

Sarvin nodded, the determination in Wkumi’s voice sparking a fire within him. “What should we do, Chief?”

Wkumi stood, his presence commanding attention. “We must inform our allies and prepare them for what’s to come. Quietly, discreetly. This battle will be fought in the shadows, not in the open. Prepare my Tribal Tempest, It’s time to visit some old friends”.

4). Gathering Allies

The next two weeks passed in a flurry of secret meetings and private conversations. Wkumi traveled from system to system, rallying support among the tribes. The Vherokior, and the Thukker were wary but receptive. They had all seen the predatory nature of corporate greed and knew the dangers it posed to their hard-won freedom.

In the darkened corridors of the Great Caravanserai, the final vote loomed. The Tribal Chiefs gathered, their faces etched with concern and determination. Wkumi stood tall, his presence commanding attention as he addressed the assembly.

“Brothers and sisters” he began, his strong voice echoing through the sacred hall, “we stand at the dawn of a new era. The choices we make today will shape the future of our people. The Upwell workforce transfers offer promise, but at what cost? Are we so quick to forget the chains we broke, the blood we shed for our freedom!?”

5). The Debate

Chief Acassa Midular rose in response, she was calm and composed. “We cannot turn our backs on progress, Wkumi. The freedom of choice is what we fought for. Our people deserve the right to decide their own fates, even if that means embracing new opportunities”.

A murmur rippled through the assembly. Wkumi clenched his fists, his resolve unshaken. “Freedom is not the same as trading one set of shackles for another. The allure of Upwell’s promises blinds us to the reality of corporate control. We must protect our people from this insidious threat”.

The debate raged on, each Chief presenting their arguments with passion and conviction. As the final vote approached, the tension in the room was palpable. The fate of the Minmatar Republic hung in the fragile balance.

6). The Decision

In the end, the vote was cast. The Tribal Council’s decision was to permit the Upwell workforce transfers, but with strict regulations and oversight to protect the citizens from exploitation. It was a compromise, a delicate balance between progress and caution.

As the assembly dispersed, Sarvin approached Wkumi. “Did we do the right thing, Chief?”

Wkumi placed a hand on Sarvin’s shoulder, a bittersweet smile on his lips. “Only time will tell, my boy. The fight for our people’s freedom is far from over. We must remain vigilant, ever watchful of the shadows that lurk around us”.

6). A New Dawn

The sun rose over the main arena of Matar, casting a golden glow across the landscape. Wkumi Pol stood at the edge of a landing pad, looking over the horizon. The future was uncertain, but he felt a renewed sense of hope. They had faced countless trials and tribulations, but they had always emerged stronger.

As the first rays of dawn touched his face, Wkumi whispered a silent prayer to the spirits of his ancestors. “Guide us, protect us, and keep our hearts true. For we are the children of Matar, and we will never be slaves again”.

With that, he turned and walked into his shuttle, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. The fight for freedom was a never-ending journey, but it was a journey he was prepared to undertake, for the sake of his people and the future of the Minmatar Republic.

7). Shadows of Conspiracy

Somewhere in an unknown location, a Redeemer Black Ops battleship emerged from the shadows to accept a lone frigate.

Minas Iksan, an Amarrian master spy, sat in the commanding post, his fingers steepled as he listened to the report. “Master, they accepted Upwell's offer. Our plan succeeded!”

Minas smiled venomously. “Oh yes”, he purred, “but the Upwell workforce program was just a pet project for the Drifters to supply them with fresh corpses without gunfire. The main target was the Tribal Council, and I believe we have managed to plant a seed of discord in their hearts”.

The Redeemer initiated its covert portal, the ship vanishing into the unknown. As it disappeared, Minas's laughter echoed in the empty space, a chilling prelude to the chaos yet to come.

This story is a prelude to The Equinox expansion, coming 11 June, and features real names and events, well... almost =)

Alex Sinclair's avatar
Alex SinclairMod
Sturmer

Fantastic. Loved the building tension and the sinister ending, and I see you took our fanfiction writing advice on board too. Congratulations on first place!

Sturmer's avatar
Sturmer
Alex Sinclair

Thanks a lot!

Kane Carnifex's avatar
Kane Carnifex

My head is full of duct tape and WD-40.

Kane Carnifex's avatar
Kane Carnifex

If you want to read you can have kind of the formated text above in the spoiler.
But if you want to listen to some "reading" i have you covered. (this also the prefered way)

This is the story about Jason, from the Minmatar Brutor Tribe, a Space Mechanic.

https://www.youtube.com/embed/1sHu23lmUHk?feature=oembed

Alex Sinclair's avatar
Alex SinclairMod
Kane Carnifex

"20% extra armour: duct tape" - this line made me chuckle. Nice work.

FirestormGamingTeam's avatar
FirestormGamingTeam

In Rust We Trust - This story is told as raw emotion of an escape during an assault.

Battle Report - Escape

Captive, hopeless, misery, wake up, work, whipped, back to your cell, food, sleep, rinse and repeat, every day, your friend being the clink of the chains, stagger, flag for a second, searing pain across your back follows, whipped, for any reason.

Explosion rocks the night, alarms blare, soldiers running, more explosion, autocannon fire, it's a raid, they found us, gunfire rings out, screams of pain, of agony, they are executing prisoners, the true Amarr way, another explosion rocks the block, cell doors become loose, a soldier runs into the cell, my energy revitalized at the prospect of rescue after years.

I tackle him to the floor, his rifle slams across my jaw, and blood flies everywhere, I slam my head forward, it connects hard, and his head snaps back, I reach for his pistol, and quickly I turn it, firing, one, two, three times, he drops dead, I'm dizzy, unsure on my feet, tucking the pistol into my belt I quickly grab his rifle.

I take a deep breath and move out of the cell, sensing movement to my right I drop and spin, military training coming into play, quickly shooting and killing two Amarr sentries, I keep moving, glancing left and right into cells, the bodies of my people, covered in blood, limbs missing, the pain wells inside my chest, my anger soars, my people executed in cold blood, another cell, a woman hangs from chains, clearly the victim of god knows what torture, naked and covered in blood, finally she is released from the daily screams she would utter.

Running outside, I spot Rifters, and Thrashers, strafing the compound, slaughtering Amarr soldiers and blowing up ships before they can take off, missiles streak past and transport land, my people, and my soldiers, and relief surges through me, my pain brings bile to my throat, tears stream hotly down my face, I see more Amarr soldiers running from the compound, quickly I start slaughtering them, I can hardly see, my rage and fear, keeping my arms steady and my aim true.

Pain slices across my shoulder and I fall forward, quickly rolling I see a Knight of the order raise his sword, quickly pulling the piston I shoot, his body flies backwards at the force, I can see another knight running for me, I pick up the sword and throw it, it takes the knight in the chest, looking around, I spot the rifle and pick it up.

More bangs and booms rock the compound and the area, fighting is intense, and screams echo through the courtyard and the surrounding hills, this has to be a major strike by my brothers and sisters.

I can see the way out, running, I hear screaming, it's a wail of hopelessness, and my heart tears and I stop and turn around and run for the east wing of the compound, this is where they keep the women, smashing through the doors, my heart stops, I see what I feared the most, rage boils past and then I see red, how dare they, I start to fire, I keep firing, the women run past me and I slaughter the soldiers like the dogs they are. Even dead I keep firing. Slamming bullets into their bodies.

Finally, my rage subsides and I realise I am alone, the firing has stopped, and the screams are there still, groans and moans of the dining all around me. It's time to go. I must leave, running outside I run for the entrance I take two steps and I pitch face first into the floor and the darkness takes me, as I lose consciousness I see a Rifter slam to the floor in front of me and soldiers jump out and run towards me, weapons drawn, they quickly realise I am one of them and grab me, dragging me aboard, as the engines roar to life I am just clinging to life, I feel muted.

I have escaped, but hundreds died.

Alex Sinclair's avatar
Alex SinclairMod
FirestormGamingTeam

Nice work! This is a big improvement. Three of the team judged this bounty together, and we all thought the stream-of-consciousness style worked really well for subject matter. Third place is yours!

FirestormGamingTeam's avatar
FirestormGamingTeam
Alex Sinclair

Yay! I am trying very hard to improve my writing under story bounties and such, I decided to go with this style as the Minmatar has a very bloody history with the Amarr!

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