The Kebechet - Named after the Goddess of Purification, was commissioned early in 823 as a test bed for Electro-Magnetic Wave Pulse Generators and general recon operations in and around the Edge Worlds, boasting a rather standard armament and armor plating, its specialty lies in its scanner being modified for tracking tachyon emissions to operate with the EM-Pulse Generator. The vessel was designed with sustainability in mind for lengthy flights away from home, potentially up to months at a time.
Its current mission is data recovery and neural net transmission interception.
Its Commanding Officer - Commander Garth Saris is a seasoned veteran of the First Contact War over two decades ago, and a survivor of the Fall of Toledo. Garth was born on Planet Manhattan in 774 A.S, and enlisted as an officer of the Auxiliary Fleet of the Liberty Navy in 795, serving through to 801, where he had taken his leave from the Navy following the end of the conflict throughout the Houses for the Edge Worlds with his familiy, no longer feeling safe behind the Republic.
Taking his wife and daughter across the vast expanse of the Sector for Toledo, Garth enlisted with the Order Paramilitary and began patrol operations around the initial Major entrance. He slowly rose the ranks and was often called out for his ideals and unorthodox operation management, as well as his occasional insubordination when a superior officer made a questionable call, but nevertheless remained faithful to the cause he had become a part of for the sake of humanity, and more importantly - his family.
During the fall of Toledo, Garth's wife and teenage daughter did not survive the fighting, or escape the atmosphere before the bombardments had begun along the fault line. Enraged and disillusioned at the reality of the threat, Garth relentlessly took up arms against any Nomad he encountered, be it passive or otherwise. Over the years as he came to accept the fate of his choices, Garth realized that revenge wouldn't satisfy the loss he had experienced, and with a score to settle that could never be done, he returned to his duties as a small part of his humanity died year by year.
Its Executive Officer - Lieutenant Commander Curtis De'Rosario is a recent addition to the ranks of the Order, and a dedicated one at that. Born in 781 on Freeport 9, De'Rosario's combat experience came from dealing with the occasional raid made by the Corsairs as a part of the Freeport's security team. Enlisting with the Order in 810, De'Rosario climbed the ranks at an astonishing rate, surpassing a significant number of officers.
His career climb came to a close when he was assigned as the First Officer on board the Kebechet, and while he has respect for his superiors, he often speaks his mind, only in opposition to his current Commanding Officer in regards to some unorthodox operational choices. Nevertheless, they are close friends, and have both cited in separate discussions that they would die for one another if need be.
Curtis has always seen the life of the illusive Order as exotic and heroic, and believes the cause he follows to be just, and refuses to question any order issued unless it falls outside of the Order's current Modus Operendi, and it's because of this many decisions made by Commander Saris are challenged. Curtis personally believes he would be better suited for operating the cruiser given its current Captain's record of unorthodox behavior, yet he has never openly challenged leadership or brought his concerns forward to the Overwatch.
We were cleared for field testing outside Sicca Shipyard to ensure power core optimization with the BCS-GEN turrets while our sensors and armor plating were undergoing examination by the technicians present.
Live fire tests were green-lit at a secure distance from the Shipyard while the systems were being tested. General results are optimal. No issues with the primary reactor beyond core management involving the Pulse Generator and interference with the current sensor array when active. This poses a problem, as we'd be flying blind for a minute while the sensors re-calibrated after each pulse. The technicians are currently examining the flaw in our shielding from the device, but I do not have high hopes of it becoming operational any time soon due to the loss of our foothold on the Iridium claim.
There are some days I wish we didn't have to fight our own kind.
First Contact occurred as live fire tests were coming to a close. We were confronted by a Purifier-Class Nomad husk holding at three clicks from the direction of the Tohoku entrance to Epsilon.
The situation was hazardous. Our reactive armor plating was still undergoing tests and not prepared for an engagement, nor was the vessel designed with assault in mind. Nevertheless, as a Hathor moved in to engage, so did we in an attempt to bait the vessel past Sicca's defenses. Noticing our intent of action, the vessel retreated, and we began to pursue. As the sensors came online, we picked up the final few seconds of its Tachyon Emissions before it managed to cloak and escape towards Ninety-Two.
It's alarming to see such a vessel capable of breaching one of our most secure systems. A formal report has been prepped for High Command in regards to such a security breach, and it's my hope that this won't be a recurring issue, but with the current feud involving our own species picking up, I've noticed a slight lack of focus on our primary enemy. I hope this doesn't persist.
After our EM-Pulse Generator was brought online, we departed for Omicron Delta and took up a holding pattern outside of the Freeport. We began testing the device and preliminary tachyon scans of the surrounding area. A Freelancer identified as Saffir Rabe undocked from the Freeport and moved to a safe distance. Curtis and I began a conversation with her which proved to be ever so enlightening. At that time, an AP-604 Mako-Class Battleship appeared on an approach vector towards us. We attempted to hail the vessel with warnings that were ignored, thus we fired a warning shot. The Mako opened fire and combat ensued.
The Freelancer, however, disappeared.
The odds shifted in to their favor when an AP-535 Bullhead-Class Battlecruiser appeared, or so we thought. The vessel opened fire on the Mako's aft end and drew its fire off us. We moved in for a final strike with the Artillery Cannon.
The vessel was destroyed, and De'Rosario attempted to order a pursuit of the Bullhead once its transponders were matched to another hostile organization, but I belayed it. Personally, I wasn't going to risk another conflict after that scuffle, and they had just saved our asses.
On a hunch, I began digging through old intel reports and came across a previous encounter with that Bullhead marked as an incursion in to Omicron Minor. Interestingly enough, that Freelancer was present that time as well, and audio logs showed her giving orders to the ship, and it responding unquestioningly like a machine, which... Is what it is.
I confronted the Freelancer with my findings when a second Core vessel arrived, likely investigating the loss of the Venator. No surprise, the Freelancer left and Battlecruier appeared.
After downing the last Mako, the Battlecruiser remained and its commanding officer began to speak. No surprise, voice signatures matched. You can be as clever as you want with cover names, masks, wigs, colored contacts - the works, but it takes anyone with good enough ears can recognize the similarities in voices. I confronted the Captain again and raised questions as to why what is known as a hostile and aggressive terrorist splinter cell of the Core miraculously decided to fire on not one, but two Makos instead of our ship.
The conversation developed in to talks about differing views and propaganda. I brought up the newswires of both our organizations and asked questions. It reminded me how idiotic our leadership can be with wasting resources and risking security for nothing. Some days I wish Toledo never happened, then maybe we wouldn't be so blinded by emotions, but who am I to speak about loss and retaliation?
Kind of hypocritical. Curtis is upset that I even considered giving the Auxesian the time for a conversation, but it proved to be worth more than risking our lives to kill someone who just saved our hides. I doubt I'll hear the end of it, and I doubt this is the first time I'll run in to these so called dangerous terrorists.
The Kebechet drifted gracefully through the exotic rings of Planet Djeba as its sensors pinged back and forth through the expanse of the Orillion Ice Field. The crew on board bustled about the narrow halls of the reconnaissance vessel, each moving as if they were on a mission, occasionally stopping to talk or pass on a datapad containing orders from the commanding officer.
The ready room, sat on the three-sixty degree observation deck, contained Commander Garth Saris and his first officer, Lieutenant Commander Curtis De'Rosario. Between the two sat a table occupied with intercoms, communications panels and a holographic display interface for discussing a plan of action. it was, after all, a ready room. Despite the close friendship between the officers, the atmosphere was tainted with disagreements as the two argued over another topic, as they have so many times before.
"You violated procedure. You allowed an enemy, not just an-" Curtis spoke out, boldly emphasizing his point with each word.
"I let the people who saved our god damn ass get a breath of fresh air, Curtis!" Garth slammed his fist down on the table to interrupt his colleague.
Curtis sighed. "But at what cost? How long is it going to take you to realize that these people would like nothing more than to stab us in the back!?" He shouted across the table to his seasoned comrade.
"You don't question my decisions! Last I checked, I'm the one sat in the chair, De! I will do whatever the hell it takes to keep my people alive!" Garth paced side to side, staring down his comrade with a fire in his eye.
"Order regulation R-2187-WT: Dereliction of duty will no-" Curtis was interrupted by a sharp chuckle.
"Are you citing regulation at me again? What - would you rather I plunged us up against another god damn warship and get you a fancy grave plot on Akabat? Because I guarantee you no one - no one is going to care." Garth spat out.
"Oh cut the crap, Saris! You've always been a bullheaded, idealistic ass! You signed on because you knew you'd have to make sacrifices for the greater good of the Order, even if that means spitting on your ill-conceived concept of honor in war." Curtis leaned forward on the table.
"You idiot. The rules of war have existed long before we even arrived in Sol, and if you can't accept the concept of compassion for our fellow man like the Overwatch, then you're no better than the Core." Garth crossed his arms, dropping his tone to a threatening one.
Curtis was taken back. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. You're just like those bloodthirsty mongrels, and so is the Overwatch." Garth met his gaze and leaned forward on to the table. "Read my lips: Humans. Are. Not. Our. Enemies." He spoke clearly and angrily with each word, gritting his teeth.
"Oh my god you insufferable geezer. You spout treason like the others before you. What's stopping me from arresting you, here and now?" Curtis stood up and rolled his neck.
"What - don't think I can take you? I'll knock your ass out if you ever try it, Curt. You know that, and you know I'm right. You signed on to be a freaking hero and save the galaxy, but going around shooting people because some idiot in a bigger chair than ours told you to is a god damn WASTE OF RESOURCES!" Garth launched back off the table and cracked his knuckles. "So make your move, or shut the hell up."
A long silence filled the stand off between the two, with nary a whisper of sound as they stared at one another, holding their ground in an intimidation game.
After a moment, Curtis sighed. "I don't like this. I don't like them, and god damn it I really wish I didn't get assigned here sometimes." He looked down and shrugged. "What's the plan?"
Garth relaxed and leaned on the table. "We do what we can to keep ourselves on track, and hope to god the others follow suit. We won't break up their little feud, but we'll do what we can to stay out of it. Call me a traitor if you want, but I actually give a damn about beating the Nomads instead of revenge."
The more I think about what I've said over the last twenty-four hours, the more it irks me that something is really wrong here. I can't put my finger on the issue, even though I know what the root cause is. It's hard to tell if I'm being manipulated or not. Am I? By who? The Auxesian or the Order? All that talk about Propaganda has really given me an exterior perspective of my path in life.
I ended up sitting at my desk last night after that 'meeting' with De. I looked over every detail I have available about this Raven person. History, actions, family connections, past jobs - Everything we have. I've never seen so many subjective comments made about one individual in my life. I did a background check of her relatives. Spouse is - subjectively - cunning and manipulative. His face is all over our newswire, as is that mask Raven wears. People blaming people for the deaths of hundreds. Everyone pointing fingers at one another and demanding blood be spilled. One side calls it justice, the other calls it retribution. Both have the same result - more bodies.
I can't shake the feeling that no matter what I try to do for my people, I'm going to get dragged in to this one way or another, and I'll have no control over when it happens.
But...
What I might have control over is who drags me where. It feels like I'd be choosing between two evils. Now comes the fun task of figuring out which one is the lesser, and keeping De in check. Even with good intentions, my actions will be scrutinized by him and everyone else. Being stuck under a microscope and trying to wiggle out of it is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. No matter what direction I choose, it'll never feel right. I can't just slip through the cracks anymore.
Decisions, decisions...
To fight a war with no merit and die, or to neglect the war and be hunted for the rest of my life for negligence of duty. Not really a fighting chance on either side of the fence.
Even if my intentions are good, I know I'll be misunderstood.
I pushed the conflicting thoughts out of my head when Curtis brought in a new set of orders. The Kebechet was dispatched to the Tau region to investigate a sudden increase of traffic in to Maltese territory. Despite my objections and speculation of it simply being a new rise of smuggling, we made the journey through the Sigmas. We encountered some unusual sights on our way through Maltese territory, including a Junker Luxury Liner that was in possession of cloaking technology.
I'll give it to the Junkers. They know how to smuggle and not get caught. Kind of funny how two decades ago, technology like that was in our hands and extremely rare to see, let alone possess one of your own. Remarkable how common things like that have become.
De and I expected this assignment to be dull and boring. We even stopped before we departed to buy a handful of books to read while the sensors did what they needed to do.
Our expectations were wrong.
We encountered a pair of Maltese Destroyers that began to make threats, calling us terrorists. If only they knew how ironic being identified as a criminal by Slavers and Drug Dealers really was, but I don't think they send Maltese captains to school. It makes me wonder how their apparent nation has even survived this long on their own in the Edge, but Cardamine probably has something of a part to play in their survival. Long lives, increased abilities, so on and so forth. Too bad it kills you if you don't take it regularly.
Not really too bad. Good riddance if we choke out their supply lines. Damned Nomad lovers.
Obviously, they couldn't keep their fingers off the trigger, and began to fire before we could respond to their hails, so we returned fire. Two on one weren't odds I was willing to keep up, so we sent out a distress call to the local Independent Miners Guild and informed them of the presence of two Maltese warships. It was going to be a while, however. We had to keep luring them around and keep them interested. Eventually, they attempted to flee, so seeing the direction turn, I ordered the helm to turn and pursue.
We had them locked in a circle when the reinforcements arrived, and they didn't stand a chance. Bombers of all kinds tore in to their vessels while we went full on the offensive, depleting our reactor power after diverting full power to weaponry. They crumbled like nothing.
Personal note: Never expect the Maltese to be rational thinkers.
Damage assessment reports some cracking on the port hull which is being taken care of. Hopefully it won't pose too much a problem for the duration of this operation, or I fear we may end up stranded and depressurized if we get in to another scuffle with the Maltese.
...
I still can't shake the topic of the feud. It's conflicting me.
Of all the idiotic decisions Garth has gone and made, this has to be one of the worst.
I could understand survival. I could even understand looking for information, but right now he's over on that damn Bullhead talking nice with the Auxesians. There has never been more of a time where I'd love to yank the docking collar off and go full offensive, even with Saris on board an enemy ship, because right now and with his recent attitude, I don't think he's as integral as he used to be.
First Officer's log, supplemental.
He came back on board with a grim look on his face and I confronted him. His tone and posture had changed and he was looking at certain people like they weren't his friends anymore. I don't know what happened over there, but I'm going to get to the bottom of it. He called a meeting with me in the Ready room in forty-five minutes.
I'm buying as much time as I can. Hopefully this is some ruse he has planned to hit them hard.
The Kebechet sat quietly, engines deactivated in a shipyard berth at Sicca Shipyard as various dockworkers were moving supplies on to the vessel, marked for surveys and food for an extended trip. Its destination? The Omegas.
Once more the two Officers were in the ready room at opposite ends of the tactical table. The meeting was about to begin. Curtis De'Rosario eyed his Commander with a hint of disdain in his glare as uncomfortable thoughts raced through his mind about his old friend.
"So, what's this about?" Curtis asked, cold in his tone.
Garth was pacing back and fourth. He let out a long sigh and looked over at his friend. "We're at war. Make no mistake."
Curtis raised a brow, confused "We've... Always been?"
Garth shook his head. "No. I mean the one with the Auxesians and the- Just - Look. You've known me for a long time Curt. Every time we've had a disagreement, you've always come around, but right now I can't even agree with myself."
"The hell are you getting at?" Curtis asked.
"This war isn't what we signed up for. Those people aren't the reason my family is gone, so why am I supposed to waste my time and the lives of my people to hunt them at all costs?" Garth queried.
"Those people murdered hundreds on board an Osiris. They're no better than the aliens. Why would you hunt them? Because good soldiers follow orders." Curtis said with an agitated undertone in his voice.
"Aren't you sick of that? Blindly following everything the people above you in the pyramid say without question?" Garth asked.
"No, because I'm a soldier." Curtis responded.
"No. You're a Zoner Security Guard playing dress-up and acting smart." Garth retorted.
"Oh, here we go." Curtis rolled his eyes. "Wuh, I wasn't trained, I'm inexperienced, wuh (!) cut the crap." He mocked Garth.
"Look - Fact is, this isn't our war and it shouldn't have started in the first place. Not only that, but the Overwatch lost two warships in the Independent Worlds. Two. T. O. W. Do you want the Kebechet to end up being the third?" Garth stated.
"No. Sacrifices are made daily. Those men lost thei-" Curtis was interrupted.
"Those men didn't lose a damn thing. They left." Garth said.
"Left?" Curtis stepped back.
"Defected. Abandoned the cause because they lost faith in it." Garth continued. "Do you want to be another casualty of a war that doesn't care about you? Do you want to get sent on errands for the Overwatch when they run out of milk? I don't." Garth said, leaning on the table and crossing his arms.
"God... If the Overwatch knew..." Curtis muttered.
"They already do. And frankly, De... Those people are right." Garth looked over at his comrade with a tint of hopelessness in his eyes. "This isn't the same Order it was twenty years ago. Not even ten."
"Watch your mouth, Saris. That's god damn treason right there!" Curtis stepped around the table, attempting to intimidate the veteran in front of him.
"You know it's true, so stop lying to yourself. The Order's cause is lost, and we're no better than the Co-" A shock of pain erupted across Garth's face as his head jerked to the side.
Curtis punched him in the mouth.
"You're a god damn traitor and I won't stand for it!" Curtis shouted.
Garth cupped his cheek. "Do you really want to do this, De?" He chuckled.
Curtis stared with anger in his eyes at the man he had swore to protect and serve once becoming the First Officer of the Kebechet. The words he spoke were treason, and against everything the two had gone through together. Had they really drifted apart?
Realizing his intimidation wasn't working, Curtis relaxed and stepped down.
"No... I don't." He sighed.
Garth stood up straight and placed a hand on De'Rosario's shoulder.
"Come on. After all the stuff we've been through together, you've got to learn to trust me more than the Eye. We're being dragged in to a conflict that we shouldn't be, and I'd rather be on the side with morals than the side with blind loyalty. What do you say, Curtis? Another adventure, for old time's sake?" Garth asked with a smile.
Curtis wasn't entirely convinced. Treason wasn't something he was willing to risk, even if his best friend was committed to the choice. "I... I don't know. I guess I am, sir." He stood up straight and patted himself down to fix his uniform. "What's first?"
"Omega mission. We leave in a week." Garth responded.
We returned from the Taus after our not so uneventful recon operation had completed. The initial traffic was due to a demand for Maltese weapon exports. Who would've thought druggies could make guns.
I didn't.
Of course, it being the Omicrons, De'Rosario being in command, we can across that Battlecruiser harassing a Zoner. While I wasn't on deck during the conversation. De made accusations like he always does. During this, we picked up an enormous level of Tachyon Energy readings in the vicinity of the Freeport. What a better time to test out the Disruptor?
No surprise, we found a Mako.
Immediately it began to fire on the Eidolon Wraith. De brought us up to combat speed and opened fire in retaliation. After the brief skirmish, the vessel crumbled. Guess we've paid back one of the first two.
From there, we drifted, and I spoke to Raven a bit. With thoughts on my mind about the past two days eating away at me, I said we needed to talk. We diverted to Dabadoru briefly to restock and refuel, then headed to Lost to talk.
I mentioned how I had questioned the Independent Miners Guild about them. I still find it odd that they do escort work for monetary support, though I suppose it's a fair system. We all do what we have to do to survive, especially in our line of work. I still couldn't get the feud out of my head. So... I made a call.
I went on board the Eidolon.
The insides were unlike anything I've ever seen before in my life. Dark, gloomy, weird spider-dog-ant robots. The atmosphere felt.. Strangely calming. A robot had escorted me through to a lounge area where I met with Keeper Raven. She's... Surprisingly young. Reminded me if my Daughter, but... Those are thoughts for another time.
We spoke, and I eventually came to a decision on this feud, yet even with my mind set, knowing more about her... Her family, her telepathy, I don't know. This is a road I can't plan ahead. I have a weird sense of responsibility. Not for my actions or my path, or my cause or theirs, but for them. For her. A young family. Family is the most important thing.
... And I failed to protect mine.
But not this time. I won't let people get at theirs. I've... Explained the circumstance of what will happen due to my being scrutinized for suspicion of treason. The last thing they need is more guns pointing their way. So... If a set of guns happen to fall in to the enemy's hands, it'd be considered as a consequence to their little war.
The problem is the crew. I spent a few minutes speaking to De, and he's on board, but I don't know how committed he'll be when the time comes. I don't know how we're going to even do it. We can't just disappear. No.
They've got to take us.
People are going to die because of it. People misguided by the Eye and the man who abuses his seat to control a personal empire that I want no part of. We aren't fighting our real enemy, but ourselves. This infighting with our own species is killing us slowly, but surely, and while I might not be a hundred percent with this...
The Kebechet has spent the last twenty-four hours moored to Taba Starbase as it's transferred a supply of Thorium MOX for the upcoming Omega Recon Operation. I am being tasked with notifying local forces in the region of our impending arrival.
However, it hasn't been that simple. At 07:00 SMT, Yeoman McKenzie had stumbled across a significant amount of contraband items on board the ship hidden within Engineering Maintenance shaft 37-B, Sub-deck 14. Yeoman McKenzie was found shot and killed on his way to report his findings to the security team, and camera records of the incident were wiped.
De'Rosario began his investigation at 09:30 SMT, approximately one hour after the body of Yeoman McKenzie was located hidden in a storage closet on Sub-deck 12, two levels below where the recorded data had been deleted. De'Rosario began to track maintenance access codes and recent authorized security wipes and found a list of several names over the past week that fell under the category of malicious behavior on our system. The immediate connection was that most, if not all of the names on that list, worked for Engineering or were responsible for cargo management, mid and low tier Officers.
Two security members were traced back to the initial wipe of the camera recordings by 13:04 SMT. A second body belonging to Lieutenant Lepki - a suspect from Engineering, was located on Deck 2 in Residential section Bravo, two Residential blocks away from his quarters and stashed in an unused room. The room seemed to see use by what could only be described as 'squatters' who appeared to be partaking in the intake of Cardamine, Nox, and several other unverified narcotic substances and controlled substances. Security cataloged the items and noted many of the more medical oriented items such as painkillers had been taken from medical stock we were receiving for our journey.
A second indication - Illegal weaponry. Unregistered crates of Kemwer Firearms were recovered from the washroom of the unused quarters with a shipping manifest intended for delivery at Omega-49, our final destination for next week, yet no names were present to indicate who their source was or who they were delivering to.
By 15:49 SMT, Security isolated the remaining suspects who were detained in holding cells, bar three individuals, two of which - when asking the detainees, are apparently armed with high powered rifles. I placed the Kebechet on Yellow Alert for the duration of this crisis and ordered non-essential personnel to return to their quarters.
At 20:08 SMT, Security, myself and Lieutenant Commander De'Rosario had trapped the remaining three in the aft section of the cargo-bay, where they had barricaded themselves with additional smuggled munitions of unknown origin. Six people were killed attempting to push in to the cargo-bay. Realizing the fault in our front assault of their fortified position, I ordered that the cargo-bay be vented in to space.
As the area de-pressurized, the remaining assailants were sucked in to the vacuum of space. However, Ensign David Cross was clever enough to have tied himself to the rail to prevent being sucked out. As the doors sealed, we charged in and overtook the Ensign. He was placed under arrest and delivered to a holding cell for interrogation.
The name of a Gallic smuggler was given as their contact, known as Felix Pelletier, It is without a doubt that they've gotten a message to their contact who has since vacated Omega-49, and will manage to escape justice today. I am preparing a report to the Overwatch about this incident, and I hope that the integrity of my crew is not going to falter further than it has, or I fear I may never get out of this place.