Drafted
Drafted - Welcome
The EVE universe
From ‘History channel’:
In 7703 A.D. the wormhole opened, and in 7987 A.D. colonization of EVE became possible. mega-corporations, religious factions and ethnic groups quickly begin colonization of the EVE cluster, founding several hundred small colonies. At some point however, the gate collapsed, severing the colonies from the worlds which sustained them, bringing a dark age upon the inhabitable worlds, while millions more perished on other colonies in the ensuing chaos.
During their expiation, the Amarr Empire claimed the region of Genesis and the EVE Gate as their own. To them, as to many in EVE, the gate is a place of religious significance. Unfortunately, the region surrounding the Eve Gate is still lawless, and is inhabited by several groups of pirates, both faction and capsuleer. It is rumoured that the wrecks of the many ships which were destroyed during the final days still float in the void around the gate. The lack of wreckage detected by scanners has not culled the speculation; some say that the ancient vessels have been cloaked by the Jove to prevent advanced technology from falling into the wrong hands.
In 23346 A.D. a bright star appeared to the EVE cluster. The mysterious "Star in the North" is speculated to be the closing of the Eve Gate in the Milky Way galaxy. In late November of that same year, the star disappeared from the sky without explanation.
Excerpt from Alain Embrosius Topher paper on Interstellar Travelling
"The New Eden system is an enigma to us. The system itself is not that impressive – just some space debris and a few asteroid belts orbiting a pale white dwarf. But at the outskirts of the system is a phenomenon that has puzzled us for centuries. At the center of this phenomenon lies a huge structure, obviously built by some advanced civilization eons ago. The structure looks very much like a jump gate, except it is many times bigger than any space structure of ours. The gate is fairly plain all around, but there are markings here and there, in some ancient language that has not been fully decrypted. At the top, the largest of these markings is a three-letter word that says EVE. There isn’t full agreement among scholars about the meaning of this word, but most people regard it to be simply the name of the gate.
Now, every indication points to this being the gate that our forefathers used to enter this world, but despite massive studies on the gate and the EVE system in whole, we still haven’t uncovered what happened to the gate all those millennia ago. Extremely bright and powerful electromagnetic turbulence emits from the EVE gate, as it is commonly called. This turbulence seems to originate from within the gate, so it is believed that the gate is actually open and the electromagnetic storms are coming through from wherever the gate is linked to.
In any case, the turbulence makes it extremely difficult to study the gate. Fortunately, the storms pulsate rhythmically, meaning that every other year or so they recede enough to allow closer scrutinizing. But even then the turbulence is enough to rip to pieces any vessel foolish enough to wander close to it.
The immense brightness emitting from the gate can easily be seen in solar systems close to the EVE system as a vibrating bright star on the night sky. But even in systems in the farthest regions of the known world it can still be seen with the aid of a telescope. The Amarrians, whose home system is only a few light-years from the EVE system, were in the best position to marvel at the gate. Many thousands of years ago, while still on a primitive level, the Amarrians actually coupled the peculiar phenomenon they saw in the sky with their age-old religion and even today the EVE gate holds great importance in the Amarrian state religion.
The search for our ancestors goes on. Even if the facts lead us to the EVE system, it seems to be the end of the road. The extensive studies done there over the decades seem no closer to providing the answer to this important question.”
Welcome
You wake up with guns pointed at your head. After the rude awakening you are taken to a holding cell. You have been ‘recruited’ by the Federal Defense Union. Well, recruited, it should be called shanghaied. The reason is that your past transgressions against the Gallente Empire have been enough. You have to pay, one way or the other. The other meaning that you and your clones are terminated, grounded to dust and flown into a supernova. That equals both dead and forgotten as the leader of the guards states with an ironic undertone. The only way is to get back into the good graces of the Empire. He injects a needle in your shoulder and your world goes black.
You wake up lying on the floor, surrounded by some thirty other people looking bleary eyed. A pounding headache and some scars. They put something in your head, that’s for sure, but what? Trying to find out what is going on, you strike up a conversation with the others. They are all criminals to some extent, the same as you. All had the little speech about transgressions against the empire, being forced to make up for it. No idea where they are going. All got headaches and some kind of input plug thing stuck in it as well. Suddenly steadying yourself after a lurch of the ship you can sense the ship entered warp. Hours later, after passing numerous stargates and slipping in and out of warp you have no idea where you are or where you are going. However, as the ship approaches a space station you get the feeling this will be the end of the ride. Under gunpoint you get to strip down, putting on a non-flattering grey overall you are marched to a large assembly hall. Apparently there are more people like you, from all over the empire, and everyone is herded into the assembly hall. One guy, wearing a crisp uniform with a bunch of medals pinned on it takes the stand. His amplified voice shouting out from the speakers placed everywhere in the hall.
“I am Luminaire General Francois du Rennes of the Federal Defense Union militia. You have been selected because you are the ones that have multiple transgressions against the Gallente Federation and more importantly have the ability to help us in our war against the Caldari State and the State Protection militia”. He grins amused and continues “and apparently you can be trained to fly spaceships and help us win this war.”
As you hear these words, your hand reaches up to the back of your neck. So that’s why they put those implants there, so you can fly a spaceship but perhaps they did even more.
“Listen up close” the Luminaire General continues. “You will be trained further on how to fly the spaceships and how to shoot at the Caldari. You will not try to escape, you will not try to inflict suffering on the Gallente Empire and its citizens. You will obey. Remember, if you do not comply with these orders, you will be terminated without any hesitation. There will be no trial, no jury, just the executioner. However, if you serve us well, then you can earn your freedom.” With that the general turned around and walked away.
There is a buzz in the crowd, “freedom, didn’t know we were prisoners, I never saw a judge or jury”. “We can be free after this, I still got a headache of those implants.” “What do I need to get this freedom?” As the buzzing begins to swell there is a mean looking character approaching your group. You know the type, your dad was one, a Sergeant, usually a complete bastard with no respect at all for your life and limp, so to speak. Hard as a plate of tungsten steel and as flexible as it as well, unless of course it’s his own ass on the line, then everything is in continuous flux.
“This is going to be good” you mumble to yourself.
The sergeant says “Okay you heard the general. You are prisoners with the possibility of parole”.
The person next to you responds “prisoners, I didn’t do anything” he said. “At least nobody can prove anything” he added with a smirk. The Sergeant was on him in a nanosecond, hit him squarely between the eyes and continued with his, apparently well-rehearsed, speech.
“You are criminals, you have been found guilty and you are given a choice. Either you learn and perform well in this war, or you will be executed. There is no middle ground to this. Understood? Good” he said without waiting for a reply. “You are in the Green echelon. Some of you will surely fail and I will make sure they will fail during training. Better to fail there then to fail when you are counted upon. Follow me!”
You and your new comrades walk apprehensively after the Sergeant. Looking behind you, you see the motivation walking with you. Some guards carrying some heavy artillery, goading the reluctant stragglers forward like diseased cattle. Scanning the assembly hall you notice the ships that are present in massive numbers in the hangars adjoining it. Mmmm will those ships be the ones they’ll be flying. No sooner then you thought that, the Sergeant stops and points to the thick acrylic windows.
“Those puppies are the ones you will be training in. A special Atron, a frigate hull class, two guns, two mid and two low slots to help you prevent an early death and you will be on it alone, no crew to take as hostages. Not that anyone will trust you at all of course” he added with a tasteless grin. Half an hour later you are pushed into a large room. Officially it was called “Green Echelon Bunks” as it said on a plaque next to the entrance. Somebody had ‘unofficially’ added ‘Welcome to the Green Hell’ next to it. Either there were people here before, in the same position as you are in now, or the Sergeant really had a flair with soldier poetry. How inventive, you muse to yourself and search for a place to lay your head to rest.
Next morning, suddenly you are basked in the cold efficient neon lights from the ceiling of your new home. Someone begins shouting something incomprehensible, but as you get kicked out of your bed you soon learn it is the militia’s way of saying “Good morning to you, it’s another beautiful day”. Rushing into your overall you try to get an idea what’s going on. Remembering your father from when you were young, you finally decide that this really is a standard military operation. Get them shaking, don’t let them get comfortable and keep ‘m on their toes. The more stress the better the training, or at least it will be easier filtering out those who are not going to make it. Thirty men are standing to something that resembles attention. Half of them are still asleep or trying to put their boots on. Well this is surely going to win the war isn’t it. You are rushed to the mess hall. Other groups are herded in as well, a few fights break out and put to rest with the minimal amount of force you can expect from a stun gun. After breakfast you still see the shapes of those that don’t agree with the current command wriggling on the ground. Better not get hit with those things you remind yourself. Pain isn’t nice, at least not coming from those guns. Stay on your toes and try to anticipate what is going to happen. If only you listened to your dad more when you were young, he was always going on about how some military training would do you good. At least you would be able to foresee what will be happening, oh how proud he would be. That, and wishing he could be the Sergeant.
As you walk out behind the Sergeant and heading for the large hangar you think to yourself. What the heck, they don’t expect us to fly instantly do they? You think about asking the Sergeant, but a guy named Bruyant beats you to it.
“Of course not!” the Sergeant roars. “First you have to get yourself in the pod, then we will make you fly.”
“What” Bruyant shouts, “you got to be kidding me, we will die before we even leave the hangar. I’ve never flown a spaceship in my live. Is this just another form of expensive execution or new entertainment?” The Sergeant rounds on Bruyant, looking straight at him and points at his head.
“What do you think we put in there? Explosives? Of course not you idiot. We put some very sophisticated hardware in that little head of yours. You are already learning the basics of flying and navigating. Your brain knows what to do, now we need to make your body understand that.” He said turning to the group. “Besides we even adapted the Aura AI of the ships. She will help you with the basics, and when you get beyond the basics she will continue to serve as your ship’s AI. Oh yeah” he added with a grin “don’t try to hack her, she will know what you think and trying to hack her, well… it will hurt a lot more than a stun gun.” You enter the hangar.
“Get in those pods you grunts” Sergeant shouts. Next to a pod there are a number of people standing ready. They don’t look like militia to you, but what do you know. One of them tells you to lose the overall, you won’t need it in the pod. You make yourself as comfortable as you can get. One guy with a clipboard starts taking down information. Name, age, length, weight, any diseases, any mental disabilities, any in the family you know of. Why do they ask these questions, they already know everything about you, even the more intimate thoughts you have. Then the one labcoat sticks a jack into your neck. You blink as you try to focus on what the other guy is asking. Blinking wildly there seems to be something wrong, when you ask they say it is usual for first-timers.
“It will get better” the pretty Intaki states. “Practice makes perfect, you know.” You look at her if she’s trying to make a joke, but she is dead serious. Well then, here goes nothing. The lid of the pod is put in place, and you wince when the sludge is pumped in. Try to relax you mind yourself. Panic isn’t going to change anything as you begin to get used to your new environment. A mechanical arm picks up the pod. Rotates it and puts it in an awaiting Atron. You blink at the sudden lights as your pod connects you with your ship. Well, helllloooo! You are looking at your ship, while you are in it. That must be a Cliererien psychologist statement you think to yourself. Suddenly there is a voice.
“Hello, my name is Aura” a slightly metallic voice booms in your head.
“Can you cut down on the decibels please” you cry out trying to put your hands over your ears, even though that is in vain.
“Sorry for that, I have adjusted the volume, how does this sound” Aura speaks gently to you.
“Much better thank you. So you are the ship’s AI?”
“Indeed I am, a modified version, specially created for the Federation Defense Union. I will help you master the controls of this ship and assist you in your duties as a minutemen of the FDU, if you survive basic training that is” she added ironically.
“Duties, duties” you cry out “it’s slave labour, like breaking rocks. And what do you mean by surviving basic training?” you say a little alarmed.
“Basic training is going to be rough. A number of you will not survive it. Even less will survive their first missions.” Aura states in an emotionless tone.
“What are the odds that I will survive?”
“Depending on how you behave and hold yourself under pressure.”
“But, what about my clones, I got enough of them so I don’t have to die at all?” Aura explains it. If you are not good enough, no amount of clones will help you, even if you already paid for them. You will cease to exist. If you lose a ship, it would be called one strike. If you lose another ship strike two and finally if you lose three ships in a row, you’re out. Realisation dawns on you. The tech might be cheap, well not that cheap, but if the militia loses too many pilots and fails to win the war, it doesn’t look good. Ships can be replaced but failing pilots are a tactical and potential political nightmare that the militia and the Gallente Empire cannot afford. It’s about perception, and here the perception of the militia rules.
“Okay then, Aura. Let the training begin” you say to the AI.
“Training commencing” is Aura’s simple reply as you emerge from the hangar.