The newest addition to the hangar makes it’s way through the warp tunnel. I have never flown a Jaguar before but feel at home in its counterpart the Wolf. It handles very well and responds fine to my subtle instructions. I am eager to test its capabilities in actual combat.
I approach the Y-M gate in the kari system and jump in unopposed, passing an Obelisk, that now will hold back a few minutes more before jumping in I’m sure.
A quick scan confirms that I am alone on the gate and I initiate warp to the D61A gate hoping to find some unsuspecting prey jumping into Y-M.
The Jaguar hold still 3000 km from the gate aligned at half speed when a Cyclone lands and jump into D61A. I know I wont be able to fight such a formidable ship on my own and settle in for a wait. No sooner have I informed the small crew that they can take a short break before the voice comm crackle with the voice of Forty Three, he has engaged the Cyclone and is already taking it down on the other side of the gate. I quickly warp to the gate and jump to give support if, for whatever reason, he should need it. The cyclone buckles under the combined firepower of our ships.
Quickly getting the remains salvaged, Forty Three warps out and I go into high orbit around the gate. As Forty Three leaves the cavalry arrives in the shape of an Abaddon with some additional support ships. I feel pretty confident from the distance of 170 km when he lights up my ship and fires a salvo.
My camera drones have a hard time focusing with the laser beams hitting, but no serious damage is registered. None the less it is an impressive range for an Abaddon. I take the Jaguar closer to see when damage will register and at 135 km it becomes interesting as a 4th of my shield is peeled away. I make a mental note of damage, range and vector and warp off. We shall meet again I grin to myself.
Subconscious I register the low buzz of an incoming message.
- All pilots are to RTB ASAP in F4R, a council will adjourn.
Signed Kerth
I’ve alway found it peculiar that a Gallentee can climb to the top of a Matar clan alliance. But the people of Matar has strange ways and I shall not begin to understand them anytime soon. However the message is clear and leaves little room for interpretation. A quick scan confirms that the Y-M gate is clear of bubbles and I slip by the small fleet that has taken up position after the Cyclone kill. A quick stop in Esa for fuel and I was ready to go.
As I make my way towards F4R I notice the ever increasing number of ships that seem to head in the same direction. There is complete silence on the internal communication channel and I can feel a slight shiver. The ships bear strange markings. Hastily painted it seems. Simple yet strikingly fitting paintings so very like the many clan symbols I have gotten used to.
I pass a Hurricane close by and notice the red rings painted around the numerous gun turrets. White zig zag stripes forms what looks like lightning towards the nose of the ship. The Bloody Hand of Matar marks it a Ushra’Khan vessel but the tribal markings are new to me. An Apocalypse, also with tribal markings, 10 km off make for a strange sight and a blinding contrast.
F4R show local ship numbers over their hundreds. The docking point is a mess as everyone struggles to keep ships out of each others way and at the same time slip into the station. In high orbit around the station is multiple Ushra’Khan ships that I recognise. They keep a watchful eye on the swirling sea of ships.
The voice communication channels are no longer silent. The guttural voices drown out the other races as insults and threats are are slung at each other. So far no real incidents has occurred but the tension is there, hanging in suspense. With so many warriors with their ego and pride gathered in such a small place it is bound to go wrong at some point as tempers erupts and guns flash.
Being a product of The State and KIA I am not used to such displays but find them fascinating. I take the high orbit to observe and keep my ship safe. Navigation in that seething cauldron of ships is hazardous at best.
Some hours later the docking port has cleared enough for me to fly into the hangars of the station and dock up. My pod is extracted from the Jaguar and transported to the cleaning facility where I take a much needed shower. Checking my NeoCom as I dress I can see the gathering will be tomorrow at the earliest. In The State or in KIA ASAP means right now but here where Matar Tribal rules are enforced ASAP means in the next few days. Checking my appearance in the holomirror and making slight adjustments to my collar I set off for the local bar in this part of the station. I am very proud of the Collar buttons that I have ordered from the Gallentean girl. She had mixed in some Mercoxit that gives them a sligt glimmer appearance when compared to other U’K insignias. At first I had opposed the idea of mixing Mercoxit as I had heard they could emit gasses when mining and to walk around with it right under ones nose sounded very unhealthy.
In the bar the air was thick from tobacco and my lungs struggles to breathe. The noise was overwhelming and the amount of people moving around even more so. My hearing caught the roar of Ombeys voice booming with laughter and I started to make my way in that general direction. I had to make a few detours as small groups of armed freedomfighters stood shoulder to shoulder with no obvious way around due to antique weapons they all seem to be carrying. An axe of sorts if I know my Matar history. Looks very vicious and I can see how that weapon must have been an intimidating display in the older days of hand to hand combat.
Ombey is located at a battered table, with lots of people around looking at him as he with lots of gestures recreate a battle out of styrofoam cups and glasses with beer. I smile as I stand behind Sapphrine and watch as my noble stealth bomber is pictured as a shot-glass with rum moving over the table. More laughter erupts as two Abaddons are “blown up” as Cribb empties the glasses. The battle depicturing degenerates into a semi drinking contest as everyone wants to “blow up” a CVA ship. Beer-glasses are tilted and turned over and Ombey have to give up the storytelling as everyone is pushing and shuffling to get beer from the table. Laughter erupts again and friendly insults are thrown at each other. I am offered a glass of rum by Ombey as we greet and are not late to accept the glass of rum. Strange weakness I have for that stuff.
The station intercom booms up and a voice is heard though I can’t quite make out who the owner is:
“Your attention please, brave warriors. Your attention please.”
There is a short break to allow the voices to lower
“Thank you for your hasty return to F4, I hope your journeys were trouble free… at least no trouble for YOU.” Chairs are driven into the floor over and over and general laughter ensues. “You have been brought back to F4 for an announcement which will take place at 0900 sharp in the Conference Hall. So, please eat, drink and be merry, the bar is free for tonight!” A roar of voices goes up to a level almost critical to the health of my hearing.
When things clam down, or as much as they can with so many clan people around, I can talk to Zoolkhan, Cribb and Ombey. Apparently there will be some sort of congregation tomorrow in the great hall where the different clan leaders will “Address urgent matters”. I can see from the smile on Zoolkhans face that he knows more than he is willing to tell at the moment.
“Fine, fine, be assholes!” I declare as I give a wink and walk to the bar for an additional glass of rum. I can’t stand to be in the bar for more than a few hours before my throat can take no more smoke. I salute everyone around the table where we sit and bid them goodnight. As I make my way out I can see the overworked security people wishing they could go to bed as well. But they have more fist and knife fights to stop and a mess of a bar to clean up later. I don’t envy them and the clone VAT guys that have to pull out an angry Matar that has just lost a clone in a bar fight.
I don’t sleep well with the anticipation of what is to come and wake way too early. I can hear people shuffling by outside the door. A quick shower, getting dressed and I’m ready to go.
In the corridor I almost crash into a procession. Old banners are being prepared and drums with brass rings are being polished. “DevilDog Brigade” the banner proclaims with tribal markings below… I recognise the marking as some that were on the ships I saw yesterday.
As I make my way towards the Mirkur corporate hangars I take note of more and more people with strange markings. The Phoenix of Phaze-9 is blazing from a banner held by a Caldari male. I recognize him as Kristos Valamache and next to him is the CEO Maestro Ulv. I remember them coming from the depts of Providence where they had lived till they could bear the mockery of freedom no longer. Not quite tribes people but top class freedom fighters.
At the door to our hangar I see a lot of the other Mirkur guys waiting around all dressed in their finest. For some that means a leather vest for others like me it is full gala regalia with my new U’K buttons, medals and markings. Poreuomai has pulled the corporate standard from some dust filled cabinet and is checking it is in condition to be displayed. That means it has the right amount of holes, ripping and dirt that are expected on a standard and banner. Zoolkhan is running around the crowd trying to get everyone into something that resembles a line behind Poreuomai. Ombey, Akikio and I exchange smiles at the efforts Zoolkhan puts into it all. Cribb has to refrain from returning the smile but his eyes hints at the amusement he derives from the circus as well.
It is almost 09:00 and we are half herded half walking nobly towards the assembly hall. Even from two decks away we can hear the tribal drums echo down the corridors. We have no drums to proclaim our coming but Zoolkhan has issued Axes for all Brutors and I have gotten an old saber in a silver holster. I have never wielded a saber in my life but it seems very important that we all appear armed and ready.
Approaching the conference hall my ears start ringing from the booming sound of the drums. The mass of people is pushing and yelling with clan leaders, alliance leaders trying to maintain whatever dignity they had planned. The banners and standards are all that hold some cohesion to the different clans and corps as a natural beacon to gather around.
The rather large group of the council is located at a podium and supervise as people are taking their seats. More chairs are being knocked over than sat on though. Kerth approaches a microphone of sorts with Karn and Sapphrine at each side. The constant drumming is replaced by complete silence.
“Warriors, I hope you enjoyed last night, and that your heads don’t hurt so much now. The reason you have been gathered here is to let you know something of great importance, and I wanted to tell you in person. As you know, we have quite a history, and a black spot on that history is the actions of Sylph Alliance.”
Wild cries erupt and the heavy axes are clashed into nearby items adding to the drums that once again gets a beating. Several are whistling as well.
Kerth raises his hand for silence and once more complete silence falls over the hall. The contrast is striking.
“We have been regularly hitting them in Catch and Providence, but today, we are stepping it up a level.” a short pause is held for artistic reasons “We have just issued a CONCORD sanctioned WarDec, and in 24 hours we are cleared to fight them in empire.”
The whole room is turned into chaos as warriors cries of the full of their lungs, banners and standards are flying above the crowd and we in the Mirkur are no less jubilant. I even find myself yelling war cries though it is drowned out by much louder and deeper voices.
= TO WAR =
