The way this post is presented, it should be pretty obvious that this is all OOC information (Havohej is not posting his correspondence with Aria for all of GalNet to see, for example, and he’s damn sure not posting to tell you all about the dozen quarantine centers Du’uma Fiisi is currently running through shell corporations on Amarr worlds and moons under the guise of “Private Slave Training Facilities”!). But just in case it’s not obvious: The information presented in this post is being shared on a strictly out-of-character basis. Unless your character was directly involved, your character has no knowledge of these events taking place.

Zuzanna Alondra has been approached about this by a member of the EVE Observer, which is the primary reason for this posting. An IGS post about that exchange will probably go up in the near future, as well as an official In-Character announcement from Du’uma Fiisi regarding the disposition of the million freed slaves after a suitable period of time has passed.

As a final note, if you have ideas for collaborative RP based on/surrounding the disposition of the one million quarantined Minmatars, please feel free to contact me via EVE-Mail or register on our forum using your ingame name and send me a PM! I won’t promise to agree with or go along with your ideas, but I’m willing to at least hear them – if it’s interesting and ‘realistic’ we might be able to work something out.

Ultimatum

The capsuleer stood in the Captain’s Lounge of the -DFS- Shadow of Arzad which stood cloaked some 90 kilometers off of the Emperor Family Academy station in Amarr. One entire wall of the lounge was a floor-to-ceiling monitor. Its default display was a perfect simulation of a window, but right now Havohej had several graphs on display tracking trade in the Domain region of the Amarr Empire – specifically, slave trade. As the minutes wore on into hours, Havo watched the rise and fall of slave prices, took note of every blip and hiccup in available supply and ever-present demand. Havo watched, and he seethed.

For months, ever since he’d enlisted his corporation in the Minmatar militia and later the Star Fraction, Havohej had sought ways to make an impact on the Empire’s institution of slavery. With the TLF, Du’uma Fiisi had helped to drive occupying forces out of Minmatar territory and helped secure the advance of tribal forces into the outskirts of the Empire. But the restrictions imposted upon the TLF by the CONCORD Militia Act were too restrictive, too artificial. The Star Fraction’s ‘traditional’ wardec method was less restricted, but between the alliance’s penchant for pursuing the 24th Imperial Crusade’s forces into the Amarr-Minmatar lowsec warzone where they’d fought as part of the Tribal Liberation Force and fundamental ideological differences, the Star Fraction would not be a permanent home for Du’uma Fiisi. As unfortunate as this was, though, Havohej still never quite felt his corporation’s efforts were making a dent in the Empire’s slave trade.

Sure, they’d destroyed billions in Amarrian shipping, but that was in lowsec, far from the core of the Empire, in an artificial proxy war between the galaxy’s seemingly indifferent superpowers. If an Abaddon burns in Kourmonen, nobody in Ashab is likely to ever hear of it. And it didn’t free a single slave, unless one counted the dead Minmatars pressed into service carrying out the menial, less critical tasks aboard those ships. Surely they were free now, but Havohej wanted… needed something that would hit the Imperials closer to home. Make them notice… make them fear. Even if only for a while.

He opened a secure FTL channel and sent a comms request to Aria Jenneth, at the time a member of Ghost Festival ([PRETA]), a capsuleer corporation loyal to the Angel Cartel. Havo considered Jenneth a positive acquaintance, and possibly the only pirate in New Eden he’d trust with a request like he was about to make.

[ 2010.01.01 01:27:33 ] Havohej > Good morning, Aria. I hope this isn’t a bad time…
[ 2010.01.01 01:27:41 ] Aria Jenneth > Ah– hello, pilot. Not at all …
[ 2010.01.01 01:28:36 ] Havohej > Excellent! I’m finding myself in need of something that I think you may be able to help me find. And I’d rather it were kept quiet… interested?
[ 2010.01.01 01:28:52 ] Aria Jenneth > Intriguing.
[ 2010.01.01 01:29:07 ] Aria Jenneth > Yes. Definitely interested. What can I do for you?
[ 2010.01.01 01:29:13 ] Havohej > I was hoping you’d think so. I need slaves.
[ 2010.01.01 01:29:23 ] Havohej > A lot of them.. say, a thousand to start with. But not just any slaves.
[ 2010.01.01 01:29:52 ] Havohej > These need to be Amarrians.
[ 2010.01.01 01:30:03 ] Aria Jenneth > … Aaaaah …
[ 2010.01.01 01:30:26 ] Aria Jenneth > Do I smell some form of “demonstration” in the offing?
[ 2010.01.01 01:30:36 ] Havohej > Possible… but not guaranteed.
[ 2010.01.01 01:30:58 ] Havohej > The idea is a trade. An ultimatum, more accurately.
[ 2010.01.01 01:31:23 ] Havohej > I intend to offer to free ‘illegally’ obtained Amarrian slaves in return for the freedom of Minmatars.
[ 2010.01.01 01:32:08 ] Havohej > At regular intervals, we will kill one of our slaves to provide an incentive for some well-intentioned Amarrian to take us up on our offer.
[ 2010.01.01 01:32:24 ] Aria Jenneth > There do tend to be a fair number of those.
[ 2010.01.01 01:32:36 ] Havohej > Of course, there will be more to the offer, but that’s the general outline anyway.
[ 2010.01.01 01:33:20 ] Havohej > /emote nods and smiles. “I know I won’t find what I’m looking for through what could be considered normal channels… so my first thought was the Cartel. And so, naturally, you.”
[ 2010.01.01 01:34:18 ] Aria Jenneth > Hm. What you want is certainly doable….
[ 2010.01.01 01:34:37 ] Havohej > I sense a ‘but’.
[ 2010.01.01 01:36:05 ] Aria Jenneth > Mostly it’s a matter of logistics. Getting material to and from Curse usually requires a carrier, a black ops battleship and blockade runner, or a blockade runner, some careful navigation, and a good bit of luck.
[ 2010.01.01 01:36:28 ] Aria Jenneth > There’s a reason we usually leave the slave trading to the professionals. Not to say that I’m not interested; it’s just going to be tricky. Hence expensive.

Aria explained that she’d have to ask around in the appropriate channels before she could come up with a price to quote him and after they spent some time catching up and making (relatively) small talk, Havohej turned his full attention back to the graphs tracking slave trade in the Empire. Soon, he thought. Soon, one of these hiccups is going to be because of us.

It took only two days for the PRETA Specter to get back to him:

Special Delivery

From: Aria Jenneth
Sent: 2010.01.03 04:48
To: Havohej,

Pilot Havohej,

The cargo you have requested from us is indeed available in Curse at relatively low rate, for a total purchase cost of 705,000 ISK.

The difficulty will be the transportation, the logistics of which we are still working out. Since you have not specified a destination, I have assumed that you wish it moved into lowsec, but that “where” is not a great concern.

Due to the difficulty of moving your cargo through nullsec, and particularly evading the notorious gate camps at Doril or transporting the goods by lesser-known, but longer, routes or more exotic means, we will require a transportation fee of fifteen million ISK.

Total cost: 15,705,000 ISK.

Please feel free to contact me if you desire any change in these arrangements or if you have other concerns.

Sincerely,

Aria Jenneth
Specter
Ghost Festival

Havohej transferred the 705,000 ISK immediately, along with a portion of the transportation fee in good faith and immediately got to work ironing out the details of his plan. Overall, it was pretty simple. Once these enslaved Amarrians were in his possession, he would ensure their health and verify their status as illegally captured citizens of the Amarr Empire and then he would put them before the Intergalactic Summit with an ultimatum. After sufficient notice, he would begin killing one of them every day if one thousand Minmatar slaves were not released by their Amarrian slave holders. At the end of it, either one million Minmatars would be freed or one thousand Amarrians tortured and killed. Havo actually expected the end result to fall somewhere in between those two extremes, but that was the idea. And so, after conferring with Director Zuzanna Alondra, Havohej had his speech writers draw up the announcement to be posted to the IGS: [TRADE] One Thousand to One.

Surprising Development

Du’uma Fiisi wouldn’t have to wait five days to see a reaction from the Imperials. Despite the strong theme of opposition among the public replies, several Amarrians and an Ammatar made contact with Havohej through the use of intermediaries, each one of them insisting upon anonymity. One very promising individual claimed to represent a group of liberal-minded Amarrians who had previous worked with other groups to free limited numbers of their own slaves in a manner that would not attract the attention of their neighbors, or even worse the Theology Council itself. Apparently, the threat of gruesome deaths for hundreds of innocent Amarrians was enough to make these slavers risk freeing a larger number of Minmatars in one go.

Before the final details of this trade could be worked out, which would see over 150,000 Minmatars released and ensure that the first 150 days of the trade offer would be bloodless, Du’uma Fiisi received a message from a sender identified only as “Anonymous Agerothite.”

One Million await at Ashab
From: Anonymous Agerothite
Sent: 2010.01.07 22:22
To: Cer’ana, Havohej, Louella Dougans, Zuzanna Alondra,

Greetings,

I understand you are handling this affair?

There are one million slaves awaiting at Ashab.

How is this handled? I wait for a DF1AS or SHOSK agent to arrive? Then the transportation will be arranged amongst you?

Needless to say, Havohej was shocked. After reading and re-reading the brief communique several times, he sent a message to Louella Dougans, head of the Sovereign Hospitalers Order of Saint Katherine, looking for confirmation of the message’s legitimacy. Miss Dougans assured him that she had confirmed that the message was authentic; there were indeed one million Minmatars awaiting transportation to the Republic.

Events moved swiftly in the days following that message. Du’uma Fiisi didn’t expect their initial message to be so profoundly effective; the allied freighter they had chartered for the eventual transport of refugees from Domain to Heimatar was paid extra to drop what it was doing and make for Ashab. Medical screening of all of the tousand Amarrians was not yet complete and had to be rushed in order to get those people moved from their holding location in lowsec Molden Heath to Domain for the trade which would be made through Louella Dougans in order to protect the anonymity of the Agerothite’s agent. When the doors to the freighter’s hangar opened and Minmatars began pouring in from the serviceway, the cheers of the Fenrir’s crew reverberated deafeningly throughout the cavernous space.

As soon as the furor died down and the men began removing the shackles securing the former slaves for transportation, Havohej resumed communication with Miss Dougans with the intention of settling a few final details.

[ 2010.01.07 23:23:31 ] Havohej > We discussed briefly with Cer’ana the possibility that not all of these Minmatars may wish to go home. We will likely keep them here under guard for a few days while we work to determine just how many of them are so inclined… if there are men and women among them who truly wish to remain in slavery, should we contact you directly or deal with Cer’ana?
[ 2010.01.07 23:26:35 ] Louella Dougans > Whichever of us is around… hmm, this may not be necessary..
[ 2010.01.07 23:26:43 ] Havohej > Oh?
[ 2010.01.07 23:26:56 ] Louella Dougans > “[23:26:07] Anonymous Agerothite > My Lord and I went around, asking who would give up salvation for freedom in the Republic. They all volunteered.”
[ 2010.01.07 23:27:23 ] Louella Dougans > I think there may be very few, if any, who would choose to remain
[ 2010.01.07 23:28:00 ] Havohej smiles slowly, nodding. Quietly he says, > I am heartened. Nothing breaks my heart more than hearing of Minmatars who want to remain in bondage.
[ 2010.01.07 23:28:53 ] Havohej > If that settles things, then, we are prepared to transfer our Amarrians into your care.
[ 2010.01.07 23:30:26 ] Louella Dougans > I believe things are settled.
[ 2010.01.07 23:31:59 ] Louella Dougans > “[23:29:59] Anonymous Agerothite > They give up salvation, for the lives of others. They are righteous.” – I can’t exactly argue with that.
[ 2010.01.07 23:33:52 ] Havohej offers a slightly bemused smile, but nods nonetheless. > I see. In time, I am confident that they will find the Republic to be not all that their masters have described to them, and at the same time so much more.

One million Minmatars freed, just like that. It was amazing. It was unprecedented. It was a disaster. One million Minmatars, and no telling just how many of them were genuinely “righteous” adherents of the slaver’s faith. No telling how many truly believed in the superiority of the Amarr, that some god had truly chosen the Amarrians to rule over all mankind, that slavery to the Amarrians was truly their rightful place. After trying so hard to combat the spread of the slaver’s faith by the Theology Council’s little religious insurrectionist Abel Jarek, Du’uma Fiisi couldn’t simply transport these people to Rens and turn them over to the repatriation centers without knowing how many of them would attempt to continue Jarek’s work.

Over the next two days, the former slaves were moved from Ashab to Du’uma Fiisi headquarters office at the Freedom Extension station in Simbeloud where they were kept for nearly three weeks, couped up in the allied Fenrir’s hangar under close watch and heavy guard. During this time, several installations were quietly established in various locations throughout the Amarr Empire and Ammatar Mandate where the appearance of privately funded “slave training facilities” wouldn’t raise any suspicions. Being the sort of organization that it is, Du’uma Fiisi maintains several “front” corporations, complete with elaborately falsified identities for their senior executives so that it would take more than just a cursory investigation to see through the facade. Each of these hastily established facilities would be “owned” by a different front; if one were to be discovered, the others could continue to operate.

There was no time to have new, site-specific designs drafted for these quarantine centers. Havohej and Du’uma Fiisi’s directors weren’t thrilled about purchasing pre-fab prison installations from Caldari manufacturers, but given the extremely sensitive nature of what they’d have to do and the horribly short notice Du’uma Fiisi was left with no alternatives. They had expected to handle only a few thousand freed Minmatars at a time, and only for as long as it would take to transport them from Amarr to Rens. Screening a million people for religious beliefs wasn’t going to happen over night. And so, the quarantines.

Quarantine

Each pre-fabricated prison facility was constructed primarily of high-quality steel and heavily reinforced concrete. With insufficient time to prepare, all featured drab and unwelcoming grey on grey color schemes and intimidating labels over all of the doors – labels like “Cell Block A” and “Center Control”. Modular in design and construction, the quarantine centers would each have eight blocks, housing roughly ten thousand souls two to a cell as well as a smaller disciplinary block where individuals would be held in segregation should the need arise. In addition to the housing areas, the facilities featured fully functional, state of the art medical centers.

Designed to house some of the cluster’s most dangerous individuals, the facilities were built with one thing in mind: absolute and total control. Each block had eight wings housing over 1300 people, referred to as ‘pods’ due to their modular construction. In addition to the hundreds of cells, each pod had several “Multipurpose Rooms” and its own control center.

Elevated from the main floor and protected behind impenetrable steel doors and inch-thick plexiglass, these control centers were commonly called ‘bubbles’ and their low-tech nature made them supremely reliable while offering a full view of the entire pod. In the pod’s bubble, there were the controls for the doors to the cells, the door allowing access to and from the pod, power to the lighting in the cells, control over the flow of water to the pod’s showers as well as to the sinks and toilets of the individual cells, control over the heating and cooling of the pod and its cells – control over everything.

Each pod on a block was arrayed around a central hub which had a bubble of its own. The block’s bubble also had control over the pod doors, as well as the ability to override the individual pods’ bubbles in the event of a riot so that, should inmates overpower the guards on a pod and gain access to the bubble, they would not then be able to get off of the pod before an appropriate security response could be brought to bear. These hubs were the terminal points for long corridors extending from the facilities Center Control building like spokes on a great gunmetal grey wheel.

In the Center Control building you found not only the prison’s primary security suite, but also its communications center, a visiting room, the medical center, the kitchen, mess hall and officers’ dining area and an armory (in the event of a pod or block falling out of control, security personnel could obtain arms from the armory; during normal operation, guards carried only non-lethal weapons as a precaution). Necessarily, Center Control was the most heavily secured area on the premises. If the staff lost control of the inmates in this building, they lost control of the whole thing. Of course, Du’uma Fiisi did not buy these buildings specifically for their security. They did not bargain for the freedom of a million Minmatar slaves only to imprison them. But neither did they intend to release a million devout followers of the slaver’s faith into the Republic, so they would put the security to good use.

While the facilities were being delivered to their respective locations and psychologists, lorekeepers, shamans and physicians with the right brand of patriotism were being approached, Du’uma Fiisi’s CEO met with his Directors to discuss just how they would go about the herculean task the Anonymous Agerothite had set before them. After much argument (deliberation is too soft a word), several points were agreed upon. First, it had to be conducted with the utmost secrecy. Not only would the Amarrians descend upon these facilities with fury if they know what was really going on, but there had been huge backlash from even fellow Minmatars over the bounty offered for followers of Abel Jarek. Further, it was decided that even within Du’uma Fiisi word would have to be kept as quiet as possible until the corporation was prepared to announce their delivery of the freed Minmatars to Rens. As everything in an organization like DF1AS was strictly need-to-know to begin with, this part wouldn’t be difficult.

Given the risk of public outcry and the subsequent need for absolute secrecy, it was quickly decided that they could not staff the quarantine centers with Minmatar security personnel. It was all too close to home and the odds of finding several thousand people who would truly understand seemed very slim, especially considering that they’d only had one single confirmable bounty claim on their Salvation Crusade offer. Havohej flatly refused Gallenteans and Amarrians weren’t suitable for obvious reasons, which left only Caldari. Director Akheteru used connections made in previous projects to contract the services of a practical-aligned Caldari merc group with fairly strong Syndicate ties and was able to work out acceptable contracts in which the mercenaries contracted with the different front corporations ‘owning’ the facilities for six-month tours and signed strict non-disclosure agreements (the gist of which was more or less ‘if you talk, we will kill you’).

One difficult point was re-education. Each of these people had been educated from birth, brought up to believe in the superiority of the Amarr, to believe that the Amarrians’ god had chosen them above all others to go out and conquer all the known universe. To believe that it was a reclamation rather than conquest, that it belonged rightfully to the Amarrians to begin with. That they, as Minmatars, were heathens who could only come to salvation through service to the Amarrians in slavery and that the free Minmatars of the Republic were brutish barbarians intent on destroying all of their god’s good work. Havohej was not willing to budge on his position that these poisonous beliefs could not be given even the slightest opportunity to take root and flourish in Minmatar space. They had to be re-educated in the Minmatar fashion, taught the truth about their history and their heritage.

The hardest point to gain consensus on was that, with the Sovereign Hospitaller Order of Saint Katherine unwilling to take any of these people home due to the righteousness of their decision to leave the Empire, there would be only one option remaining to Du’uma Fiisi in dealing with those who were found by the psyche evaluators and shamans to be completely hopeless. Those who were found incapable of turning away from the slaver’s faith would have to be killed. Once there was a concensus on this matter, of course a debate over the means was to follow. In the end, Havohej, Director Alondra and Director Akheteru agreed that it was not these peoples’ fault that they were born into slavery nor that after generations of bondage they no longer even knew what it meant to be Minmatar.

And since these poor souls were absolutely blameless, they did not deserve to die the sorts of horrible deaths that would’ve awaited the thousand Amarrian slaves who’d been traded for them. These people would be told that they were boarding a shuttle bound for the Empire, in order to be returned to their rightful masters. Once aboard the shuttle, the passenger cabin would be flooded with a colorless, odorless gas that would render them unconscious, followed by a lethal nerve toxin. Their corpses would be cleaned and retained by the corporation in a cold storage facility to be used as biomass for future use in private cloning facilities.

Directors Alondra was nearly as vocal as Director Akheteru on the insistence that the individuals be given every possible chance to turn away from their indoctrination. To this end, Director Alondra was given the task of working with the psychologists to design a battery of tests and exercises intended to determine how suitable a candidate an individual could be for re-education. Director Akheteru was tasked with developing similar batteries with the shamans and other Minmatar clergymen who would be working with Du’uma Fiisi on this all-important project. A candidate would only be marked for death after he or she was determined to be past redemption both mentally and spiritually by both groups, and then only after one of Du’uma Fiisi’s appointed administrators had personally reviewed their file and agreed with the reports filed by the doctors and the clerics.

The facilities would be divided into four phases. Phase 1 candidates were held under maximum security. Locked down 23 hours per day, these candidates left their cells only for showers and to meet with the psychologists and clerics for evaluation. The tight control wasn’t out of concern that they might riot, but out of concern for the sanctity of the process. If the Phase 1 candidates were to learn that the faithful were not actually going to return to the Empire’s waiting slavers, but that they would instead be euthanized, they wouldn’t be honest with the evaluators and it would be impossible to determine who was faithful and who could be saved. The entire effort would be for nothing. It was paramount, then, that they be convinced that it was okay to admit their devotion to the Amarrian god, that it would even be respected. In order to maintain this, there had to be absolute control of information, and that meant no contact with candidates who had moved on to later phases.

Phase 2 candidates were found to be salvageable by either the clerics or the doctors, but not both. The team who had recommended them for further candidacy would continue working with them until one of two outcomes were reached: either the other team would concur that the candidate could be saved or the first team would give up and concern that he couldn’t. Phase 2 candidates were also kept in the dark about the nature of the process they were being put through, but they were afforded more freedom. These candidates were permitted access to their pods’ self-contained recreational yards for fresh air and exercise and their cell doors remained unlocked during daylight hours.

Phase 3 candidates had been found redeemable by both the clerics and the doctors and were being worked with closely by the clerics and lorekeepers to learn the truth of their heritage, often learning about the same historical figures and events all over again but from a much different perspective. In addition to cultural re-education many of these people were also in need of basic education, learning to read, write and perform basic arithmetic for the first time in their lives. It was possible for an individual to move straight from Phase 1 to Phase 3. These candidates shared the same freedoms as Phase 2 candidates, in addition to access to the facility’s main rec yard and communal dining hall where they were able to mingle with Phase 4 candidates.

Phase 4 candidates had been determined suitable for reintegration into Minmatar society. These people were given a series of aptitude tests, the results of which determined what sort of vocational training they would receive while in Du’uma Fiisi’s care. While they did not receive access to communications, they were given datapads with read-only GalNet access and allowed to familiarize themselves with current events. The smartest of these soon picked up on the fact that there were no reports of slaves freed by Du’uma Fiisi’s One Thousand to One coup being returned to the Empire. When they inquired of the clerics as to the fates of these people, they were answered honestly. Though invariably angered or saddened, all understood well enough not to mention it to the Phase 3 candidates, or even to their fellow Phase 4’s who hadn’t noticed it on their own.

After these unpleasant details were sorted out, they established a schedule. Directors Alondra and Akheteru would be responsible for four facilities each, along with Havohej. Each facility would have to be visited once per week and during this visit, the administrator was to meet with the facility’s adjutant, go over the reports and recommendations, approve or reject requisition forms (nothing entered or left the facility without direct approval – not even a replacement light bulb) and tour the facility to satisfy themselves that everything was indeed being carried out as prescribed. During these tours, they would visit the blocks and watch from the control hubs, separated from the pods by two-way mirrors so that the candidates were never aware of a capsuleer’s presence (the actual intent of the design was so that rioting inmates would not be aware of Critical Response Teams preparing to enter the pod, but it served Du’uma Fiisi’s purpose just as well). They would also meet with the head shaman and the head psychologist to insure that neither the psyche team, the religious team nor the security team were having any issues with the others.

After only a week, it was clear that four such visits in one week was a very taxing responsibility. Havohej looked through his roster and found only one other pilot who he felt he could count on to fully grasp the importance of their work and understand its necessity. Tolon Baneblade was a young, passionate and idealistic Brutor. He was reliable and valuable in space and his autocannons would always fire in the right direction, but this was different. Havohej wasn’t sure he could count on Baneblade to objectively sentence Minmatars to death. Similarly, he wasn’t sure he could put that sort of weight on the shoulders of Brut Vilek; though Brut spoke only seldom and when he did the words were strong and decisive, this taciturn nature also made him something of an unknown quantity. Zenixxx was Amarrian and while his hatred of his fellow Amarr made him good to have around, there was no way in all the nine hells that Alondra or Akheteru would agree to have an Amarrian signing off on the deaths of Minmatar slaves. Havohej could find a similar objection for all of his pilots except one: Mizhara Del’thul.

Pilot Del’thul had been recruited for her ruthless attitude toward the Amarr Empire and had even commended the corporation’s bounty offer against Salvation Crusade insurgents, despite its general lack of success. She was perfect. That week, Mizhara Del’thul was briefed and agreed to take over administration of three facilities, one each from Havohej, Director Alondra and Director Akheteru. With only three Quarantine Centers to oversee, the four capsuleers were not overburdened with the unavoidable stress of their responsibility and things have been going much more smoothly from that point on.

“Early this morning, an explosion rocked the water treatment facility on the Ammatar Fleet Testing Facilities outpost at Camal IX in Derelik. Authorities are still investigating, but preliminary reports indicate the presence of high explosive residue which suggests that the explosion was no mere accident. Authorities have not released casualty numbers at this time. However, the water treatment facility’s duty roster lists eighteen employees scheduled for work during the shift in which the incident took place.

Representatives for Nurtura, the corporation which operated the facility, estimate nearly 13 billion ISK worth of damages and just under a month’s worth of clean-up and construction. Due to the location within the plant that the explosion originated from, not a single system at the facility was left unaffected. Nurtura Distribution Manager Thisb Intahra promises that shipments of fresh water are already underway, but says that it’s unlikely running water services will be restored to the outpost before the end of the month.”

–Ladri Reliari, Amarr Certified News Correspondent

When Havohej turned from the wall monitor in his office, his face was clouded over with a troubled expression. He knew that most of the people remaining in the Mandate were loyalists who had chosen not to make use of the opportunity afforded them by the Elders’ surprise attack months before. But he also knew that there were others, like the young man who had sacrificed himself to destroy the water treatment facility, who were less fortunate than that. Eighteen people, minus his operative, left seventeen; of those seventeen people, he wondered, how many might have been innocent? Still, he thought, better seventeen innocent men die for their people than seventeen million Minmatar be abandoned to slavery-by-proxy under some half-assed vassal of the Empire.

He had found several believers in the Mandate, and they would find him several more until he had the makings of a revolt. He had to let them do their job and concentrate on his own, which was to challenge and harass the capsuleers of the Ammatar Mandate and Amarr Empire and hopefully find others like himself — capsuleers who could see the Mandate for what it still was and who were willing to do whatever it took to cause trouble for them, their Amarr masters and anyone else who would support them. But Havohej knew that he would need support.

Over the last two weeks, the CEO of Du’uma Fiisi Integrated Astrometrics had made contact with the diplomats of several well-known, powerful capsuleer corporations and alliances, and he still had several more on his list. He had made no mention of his specific intentions, or the methods that he intended to employ in reaching his goals. Only that his primary objective was the betterment of the Minmatar people, wherever they may be. From one such discussion it became clear that, in order to garner the support of the more mainstream organizations he would need for DF1AS to establish a record of activity as well as proficiency. If people were to look the other way regarding his organization’s less socially acceptable methods, they would need sufficient reason. There was only one way to do that…

Havohej walked back to his desk and sat down. He reached for the intercom on his desk and instructed his secretary to put him in contact with his friend in the Republic Fleet Surveillance Division, Lt. Jaerl Orn. Less than five minutes later, Orn’s troubled face stared out at him from the wall monitor across the room.

“Havohej,” the officer said, “I hope you’re not going to tell me you had anything to do with Camal.”

“Why would I do that?” the capsuleer replied coolly. “I called to ask you about the TLF.” Lt. Orn was visibly surprised by this.

“The Tribal Liberation Force? I thought you said you weren’t interested in joining the militia.”

“Yes, I did say that,” the capsuleer acknowledged. “However, things have changed. I want to enlist Du’uma Fiisi immediately.” His hard eyes shifted toward the office’s huge window, his glare set upon all those Caldari and Ammarians coming and going as they pleased, making their fortunes off of the Minmatar People right here in Molden Heath. “For the time being, I am a servant of the Republic.”

“Du’uma Fiisi Integrated Astrometrics seems a straightforward enough corporation. With the discovery of the first wormholes, they look to be just another start-up vying for a small piece of the multi-trillion ISK in potential profits to be gained from exploration of this new, unknown frontier. Spending much of their time in covert ops frigates or recon cruisers, their capsuleers seem well-equipped to face the dangers of w-space while taking as few risks as possible — just like everyone else seeking to make their fortune on the unknown. There are whispers, however, that DF1AS’ goals may not be as clear as they’d have us believe.

Their CEO, a Sebiestor known as Havohej (birth name unknown at the time of this report), is known to have pirated for some time in Derelik, Domain, The Citadel, The Forge and several other regions in the cluster. After being labeled as an outlaw and rated -10.0 by CONCORD’s DED, he fled empire for the lawless reaches of nullsec space; Havohej spent time in Omist, Curse, Outer Ring and Deklein before vanishing without a trace. Having not been seen for months, it was presumed that he’d met his final death on some obscure pirate outpost somewhere far, far from the safety of empire space. Then, just recently, he was spotted by one of our agents on the Thukker outpost in M-MD3B, apparently travelling in secrecy. What he was doing there is not known at the time of this report.

A few weeks after his visit to Great Wildlands, Havohej emerged once again in Molden Heath, this time as the founder and CEO of Du’uma Fiisi Integrated Astrometrics. DF1AS has not made any official announcement of intent, but rumors among the hangar crews in Gulfonodi where Havohej seems to have made his base of operations suggest that they’ve been stockpiling equipment and ammunition in preparation for some sort of offensive. While it’s certainly possible that this equipment is meant for use in w-space, the CEO’s history makes this improbable. However, given the very small size of the DF1AS corporation, it is unlikely that Havohej and his followers will be able to execute anything larger than a very minor pirate operation and as such, it is our assessment that the threat posed by this particular start-up is minor at worst.”

– Kaalakiota Corporation Senior Security Consultant

Havohej set the datapad down and turned his eyes toward the large picture window. There was much activity here at the Republic Fleet’s Gulfonodi X – 13 station; lots of movement for him and his operatives to blend in with. Unfortunately in New Eden there were always plenty of other people blending in as well and there was always the risk of being discovered whether you wanted to be or not. He turned his tired, yellow eyes back to his visitor.

“You’ve done very well to bring me this,” the capsuleer said. “Knowing that my movements are still being monitored will effect the way I do business. Has there been any mention of me in the Amarr Empire?”

“Not that I’ve heard of, friend.” The visitor, Jaerl Orn, was wearing a Republic Fleet uniform; his rank insignia identified him as a lieutenant. His security clearance was slightly higher than most lieutenants, though, as he was attached to the Surveillance division. Havohej had done a lot of work for this man in the past, not all of it official, and the two had developed a close working relationship over the years.

“Good. Hopefully I can keep it that way for a little while longer…” The capsuleer looked out again at Gulfonodi… at Molden Heath… at his peoples’ home. In dozens of systems, there were planets, moons and colonies full of people who wanted nothing more than to be free. Free of pain, free of fear, free from the uncertainty brought on by the continued hostilities between the Empires. But the fighting brought billions upon billions of ISK in profit to so many corporations across New Eden that it looked impossible that there would ever be a real end to the war. And to make matters worse, the conflict distracted his people from what Havohej felt was a more important goal: bringing the seven tribes together again.

Millions of Nefantar and Starkmanir refugees huddled in the Wildlands, waiting for the Republic to open its doors. Sanmatar Shakor was doing everything in his power, even going so far as to conduct meetings in secret with Thukker leaders, but every public effort seemed to be met with subtle opposition. Of course, none of the politicians would come right out and say they didn’t want anything to do with the Thukkers or the refugees, but when every last cent of ISK that could be directed toward relief efforts and finding a place for the displaced Minmatar to call their own was pushed back into the war effort it was hard to believe that everyone involved has their people’s best interests at heart.

“No…,” Havohej mused, “they certainly don’t.”

“I’m sorry?” Lieutenant Orn said, not knowing what to make of the capsuleer’s mumbling. Havo blinked once and then visibly returned to the here-and-now.

“Nothing,” he said with a little shake of his head, as if to impart that it really was just a trifle. “Thank you for showing this to me, Jaerl. I can’t share my plans with you for fear of putting our friendship at risk by jeopardizing your career, but know that I am going to need friends like you more than ever in the coming months.”

The surveillance officer nodded and they both stood up. The capsuleer shook hands with the man and accompanied him to the office door. As soon as the door slid shut behind the departing visitor, Havohej returned to his seat. After a few moments’ thought, he reached for the intercom button on his desk. “Get me Wisler.” Jama’al Wisler was a Thukker he’d met on a pilgrimage to the Great Wildlands a few months before. The man had put him in contact with an old man who was instrumental in helping the pod pilot find his way. In return for this, Havohej had promised to get Wisler a posting somewhere in the Republic Fleet, which Lieutenant Orn had been happy to do for him. Now Wisler was assigned to a small patrol of frigates monitoring the border between the Republic and the Caldari State in Metropolis. Apparently they weren’t very busy, as it didn’t take long before Wisler’s likeness was projected above his desk.

“Havo! You never call me anymore; I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

“Of course not. How goes it on border patrol?”

“Quiet,” the frigate captain replied. Behind him, Havohej could make out two other men on the Slasher’s bridge. “I’d rather have been stationed on the Bleak Lands or Devoid border.”

“I’m sure you would, Wisler,” the capsuleer sympathised. “But maybe you can still do some good along the less-violent Caldari border…”

“Whatcha got in mind, podder?” Jama’al sat up a little straighter in his captain’s chair, keen on the prospect of participating in a little bit of capsuleer intrigue to break up the monotony of his Republic Fleet assignment.

“How often do you see Kaalakiota industrial convoys crossing the border in either direction?” Havo asked.

“Daily… why?”

“Kaalakiota’s intelligence division is very good at what they do. Perhaps if you could talk your squad commander into giving their tree a little shake once in a while, something interesting might fall out. Interesting enough for you to get a promotion and more exciting assignment; not to mention a gift of gratitude if it’s something that I find interesting as well.”

“Say no more,” Wisler said, nodding appreciatively. “I’ll see what I can do. Wisler out.”

Havohej stood and walked to the window. Every Amarrian and Caldari hull he saw entering and exiting the station angered him. Across the cluster, there were people — his people — suffering. Some of them still enslaved, some of them homeless, some of them not even knowing that there could be anything better for them in the world. And all the while, these enemies of his people could come and go as they pleased, right in the heart of his ancestral space. The time was quickly approaching when he would do something about it. He couldn’t make his government do the right thing, and he couldn’t wage a full-scale war against the entire Amarr Empire by himself, but he could spark a tiny light through the fog of war. Maybe if he sparked enough tiny lights, the way forward would be clear to more of his people and they would join him. Maybe… maybe not. But one thing was certain, Havohej knew.

He would kill millions of Amarrians and their collaborators along the way.