Chapter 1: Called to Action
My brother never missed a chance to mock me for joining the Reserve Frontier Safeguard (RFS). But honestly, sitting in a shiny CONCORD ship, staring at gates, feels about as useful as waiting for paint to dry. You float in the vacuum in circles for hours, then race off at the sound of a gunshot, only to find the victim already blown to pieces—or worse, it’s some poor pilot who made an accidental aggressive move, and now you’ve vaporised him for nothing. Hell of a job, right?
We grew up on the fringes of Gallente space, in Placid region. Lost our parents early to a pirate raid, a story as old as time for those of us stuck in low sec. That’s what drove us both to join CONCORD, to fight the “bad guys.” Has it really been three decades? Feels longer.
A call from Alicia, my boss, snapped me out of my thoughts. I answered the call, and there she was on my screen—looking as sleek and sharp as ever. Always official, always polished, but that smile of hers, those eyes… they turned me into putty every time.
“Greetings, are you still parked at Stacmon’s local office?” she asked, all business.
“Yeah, I had a rough mission. Landing on a lava planet to pick up those refugees did a number on Betty.” That’s what I call my Oneiros, a ship I’d modified for RFS operations.
“I talked to the techs. They fixed the maneuvering engines and are about to give her a fresh coat of paint. Right now, she looks like a charred sausage.”
“Sorry, Mel, no time for a beauty makeover. We’ve got a critical mission, and there’s no room for delays.”
“Like the others weren’t life-or-death,” I muttered under my breath.
“I said this is important, and you need to undock NOW.” Her eyes sharpened like blades, though her smile remained.
“Yes, ma’am!” I saluted like a fresh recruit. “I’m on it!” I jumped off the couch and headed for the docks without a second thought.
How does she do this to me? I wondered as I sped through the corridor. Luckily, it was a short trip, with the RFS docks nearby. As the station’s massive doors opened, I saw Betty gleaming in the dock. Well, maybe “gleaming” was a stretch. She was still battle-scarred from our last mission, but she was mine.
The regional RFS base was set up on Stacmon X, Moon 1, in a Federal Administration Bureau Station. Clean, efficient, but boring as hell. It was all bureaucratic offices and smelled like a paperwork. But we were just a stone’s throw from low-sec space, where the real action—thanks to the Serpentis—kept things lively offering all kind of kinks. No complaints here.
I boarded the ship and didn’t waste any time—undocking sequence initiated.
“Betty, you get the mission data from Alicia?” I asked, as the engines hummed to life.
“Transmission received, Captain.”
“Where are we headed?”
“Alsavoinon. Alsavoinon III, to be exact.”
I groaned. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“As your ship’s AI, I don’t kid. Would you like me to generate a joke?”
“Yeah, no thanks.”
Chapter 2: Descent into Chaos
Alsavoinon. Of course, it had to be Alsavoinon. For the last few months, the place had turned into a madhouse. Ever since they cracked open that damn Jovian gate to the Zarzakh system, it had been a free-for-all. Angel Cartel, Guristas, and their wannabes flooded in like cockroaches to serve that Deathless prick. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, the Caldari and Gallente governments started playing their little tug-of-war over the system, leaving civilians and planet-dwellers to pick up the pieces.
And if that wasn’t bad enough, we got a new plague—Vanguards. Killing machines, tearing up planets, leaving destruction in their wake. Like Alsavoinon needed more chaos.
The RFS? We’re stuck in the middle, trying to keep things from completely falling apart. You can usually talk your way out of trouble with diplomatic skills, balance, sort of. But then the Drifters showed up. Those bastards don’t negotiate. Do they even talk? They’re just after one thing: bodies.
“So, Betty, we’re diving straight straight into hell, huh?”
“No. Current destination: Alsavoinon III. Barren planet. Radius: 5,060 kilometers. Gravity: 4.7 m/s². Population: 193. Major resources are…”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Run a full diagnostic. I don’t want any surprises from Smithy’s repairs.”
“Understood. Diagnosis initiated.”
As the ship began to undock, I noticed the traffic around the station was heavier than usual. Ships packed with refugees and victims of the brewing conflict, all desperate for a safe harbour.
The docking beam released, and I had a moment to check the mission log.
Alsavoinon III, like Betty said, was barren, but that never stopped the opportunists. The resources under the surface were enough to attract all kinds of trouble. My job? Get the hell in there and evacuate 53 people from a settlement called “Serenity Venture & Friends.” Cute name. Not so cute situation—they were surrounded by fire and running out of time. Fifty-three was nearly Betty’s max capacity, but we’d make it work.
Alicia was right. This mission was urgent. A gigantic Guristas Bowhead had crash-landed near the settlement, turning the area into a disaster zone. Debris everywhere, wildfires raging—the landing pad and main road completely wiped out. The settlers were trapped, surrounded by smoke and flames, and running out of time. No way I could plan a landing through all that mess. I’d have to wing it—manual landing all the way.
“Looks like we’re in for a bumpy ride, Betty. How’s the diagnostic looking? We good to go?”
“Scan complete. All systems operational, except for the Nanocoating Resequencer. 27.3% unresponsive elements.”
“Yeah, the paint job… Sorry, Beth, but a new coat’s gonna have to wait.”
“Understood. Error ignored. Any new commands, Captain?”
“Set course for Alsavoinon III.”
“Would you prefer the safer route—17 jumps—or the shorter, 8-jump route?”
“Shorter, obviously. People are counting on us. And activate the emergency protocol on the transponder. I don’t want any faction militias causing trouble—we’re flying straight into a warzone.”
“Affirmative, Captain. Next system: Ostingele.”
The trip went smoother than I expected, considering the destination. Ran into a Gallente militia gatecamp—they’d set up a blockade to catch Caldari and pirate insurgents. Luckily, they waved me through with no fuss, just a few smart comments and jokes from their colonel. Typical navy crap.
As soon as we hit Alsavoinon, my scanner lit up with an emergency broadcast from the Gallente beacon—Roaming Drifter fleets were swarming the system. Sure, I could hide in Gallentian faction structures if I wanted to roll the dice, but the situation was too volatile to bet on anything staying safe for long.
“Alright, Beth, let’s get ourselves a safe spot. We’ve got to secure the civilians here. Patch a route between combat anomaly ERF-903 and where we are now. Drop a bookmark halfway. That should place us about 0.1 AU from Alsavoinon III. I’ll use the directional scanner to scope out the area.”
“Confirming the command. You want me to jump into the combat anomaly identified as Serpentis Den?”
“Yeah, and adjust the warp to land 70 clicks from the beacon. Given the circus going on in this system, that’s the safest play. Plus, we’ll come out above the system’s standard ecliptic. Doubt anyone’s got eyes up there. And step on it, we’ve only got 28 seconds of gate cloak left. I don’t want us lighting up on everyone’s radar, especially not with Drifters lurking.”
“Warp drive active.”
The Oneiros wasn’t built for speed, but I’d made her work. Her spacious hull let me cram in some Inertial Stabilizers to boost manoeuvrability, and by stripping out the logistics fittings, I gained room for passengers. The last slot? That went to a Warp Core Stabilizer—because out here, you couldn’t always count on people respecting your Safeguard status.
The Serpentis weren’t thrilled to see me, but I managed to warp out before their blasters could say hello. As soon as I hit my new bookmark, I switched to the manual directional scanner and started checking the planet’s surroundings.
“Beth, it’s too quiet down there. I’m seeing just a few wrecks, probably from the fight that took down the Bowhead. What’s the POGO status?”
“Reinforced. Six hours left on the timer.”
“Good. No unexpected guests then. Move us 9,000 klicks above the surface—I need a better view of potential landing zones.”
“Affirmative. Warp drive active.”
I opened up the Planet Interaction interface, scanning for the settlement. The crash site was visible from orbit—a gigantic ship plowed into the planet like an asteroid strike, leaving devastation in its wake. Wildfires raged, choking everything in smoke. But the distress beacon was strong and clear, cutting through the chaos.
“I see a large building. Beth, can it hold us? I’m thinking about landing on the roof.”
“Current mass: 13,160 tons. The structure will fail under more than 5,000 tons.”
“Can you keep the maneuvering engines running to offset the load?”
“Yes, but it will cause significant damage to the building, and the strong side winds will make it a challenging task.”
“Winds?”
“My sensors are detecting a moderate sandstorm on the planet’s surface.”
“Perfect. Smoke, fire, and sand. All we’re missing is a thunderstorm. Alright, Beth, I’m taking manual control. I’ll need full lidar support—don’t let me crash into a rock, debris, or worse. Send a message to the survivors. They need to be ready to board immediately, and tell them to leave everything behind. We won’t get off the surface if we’re too heavy.”
“Understood, Captain.”
I plunged into the blackness below.
Chapter 3: A Rescue Compromised
As we hit the atmosphere, visibility dropped like a rock—50 meters, maybe less. After 20 nerve-wracking minutes, the faint glow of building lights flickered through the smoke. Sensors confirmed it: we were in the right spot. I eased the ship toward the roof, inching closer, every move precise—like performing surgery with a chainsaw. Betty kept us steady in midair as I bolted to the gangway to meet the refugees.
When the airlock hissed open, the wind hit me, carrying stinging sand. The refugees were huddled on the roof, faces obscured by soot and smoke. I waved them in—they didn’t need a second invitation.
First, the women and kids. Faces streaked with dirt, some limping, but all moving. Men were hauling boxes, but I quickly ordered them to leave the cargo behind—if we overloaded, no one was getting off this rock. To my surprise, they complied without a word. Then three figures stepped out of the shadows. My heart sank. Combat suits. Vanguards. No way in hell was I letting those psychopaths on my ship. But just as I was about to react, an elderly woman rushed over and grabbed my arm.
“Captain, please!” she begged, her voice raw. “My name is Feda Blurt, the elder of this settlement. I beg you, let these men aboard. I’ll explain everything, but you must get us to safety!”
I scanned the faces of the refugees already on board—everyone was looking at me. They didn’t seem like hostages, just worn out and scared. The kids, covered in grime, stared at me with tear-streaked cheeks. Silence hung heavy, waiting for my call.
“Captain?” Betty’s voice cut through the moment.
“What is it sweetheart?”
“My sensors are reading structural failure in the building. It’s going to collapse.”
I grit my teeth. “Fine. Get on board—all of you!” I barked at the Vanguards. “But listen up: if any of you make a wrong move, you’re dead. Understand?”
“Captain?”
“Beth, I’m coming!” I shouted, sprinting back to the command room as the ship began to rumble. “Betty, get us out of here! Keep the G-force under six—we’ve got kids and injured on board.”
I threw myself into the command pod, feeling the brief crush of G-forces before becoming one with the ship. As we lifted off, Betty initiated the take-off sequence. We gained altitude fast, but there was no time to relax. A Gallente fleet was patrolling the orbit, and just as we cleared the atmosphere, my comms lit up. Incoming transmission. I accepted it.
“Captain, this is Lieutenant Serewer of the Gallente militia. Power down your engines and prepare for a search.”
I took a deep breath. “Lieutenant, nice to meet you. I’m Captain of the Reserve Frontier Safeguard. I’m on an official rescue mission, sanctioned by the DED Assembly. You can verify that through CONCORD records.”
“I’m aware, Captain. That’s the only reason we haven’t scrambled your ship. But you’ve taken off from a planet in a warzone, and my orders are to ensure nothing illegal leaves the surface. Your manifest says 53 survivors, but my scans show 56 life forms—excluding you.”
If ships could sweat, Betty would’ve been drenched. I knew exactly what would happen if they found out about the three operational Guristas Vanguards hiding among the survivors. And just as their search shuttle began to undock from the flagship 40 kilometers out, a cyno flared to life. A fleet materialized. I didn’t need a scan to tell what I was looking at—Phoenix-class Caldari Dreadnought, backed by a swarm of support ships.
“Beth! Get us the hell out of here, NOW!”
“Warping to safe spot.”
Those next five seconds stretched out like an eternity as the ship aligned and hit warp speed. My heart was in my throat, but thankfully, the Gallente militia were too busy with the Caldari ambush to give me a second thought. We slipped into the safety of warp, but I wasn’t in the clear yet. This Caldari appearance wasn’t random—it had to be part of something bigger. No doubt all the gates in the system were under siege now. Normally, I could talk my way out of trouble, but not with Vanguards aboard. One search, and I’d be dust. I was stuck, at least for now.
Chapter 4: Evasion and Secrets
“Betty, keep bouncing between safespots. Make 10 more and jump every 30 seconds. Under no circumstances activate the Microwarpdrive. We don’t need a bigger signature. Use any spare capacitor energy to boost our sensor strength—make us harder to detect by combat probes. And shut off the RFS transponder. It’s useless now.”
“Affirmative, Captain. Engaging autopilot with avoidance protocols.”
With that, I stepped out of the capsule. I needed answers. Fast. Entering the passenger hold, I scanned the room. The refugees were quiet, still frightened, but exhaustion was setting in. A few had even managed to fall asleep—probably the first real rest they’d had in days. My eyes landed on Feda Blurt. She was sitting next to the Vanguards, whispering something to them. As I approached, she stood up, sensing the conversation was about to change.
“Captain?” she said, her voice calm but weary.
“Feda, I think you owe me some answers. This situation is bad, and I need to know what I’m risking my neck for.”
One of the Vanguards stood up, stepping forward. “May I speak, Grandma Feda?” he asked. She gave him a nod.
“My name is… well, officially, it’s GuristasCitizen918321,” he began. “As you probably know, Vanguards operate through a clone system. The connection between the warclone and its host is supposed to last 20 minutes. It’s a failsafe—keeps us from going rogue or exceeding mission limits.”
“Yeah, I know that much. So what’s the problem?”
“The problem is, my brothers and I… we’re stuck in these bodies.”
“How long have you been stuck?”
“Three days,” he said, then added quickly, “but that’s not the worst part. The real issue is… we don’t have any memory of ever connecting to a host. None at all.”
The next 5 chapters can be found here: Depths of Alsavoinon: A Sudden Turn.
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