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[Ken]

The project, the contest... your challenge--

"Machine Gun Holidays"

Boo!  

Today is Halloween.   Tomorrow is All Saints Day. The day after is Dia de los Muertos in Mexico as well as a national election day in the US.   And the very next day is my anniversary.   It will also be the last day of our contest and your very last chance to take a crack at the final challenge.  While you can submit only one entry per challenge, you'll have a range of topics to choose from for this one based on these notable occasions and you can submit your entry as late as 2300 GMT on the 3rd of November.  That's right: the normal 23 hour time limit does not apply!   Special holiday circumstances.

Write a 400 word or less New Eden ghost story, hymn, eulogy, campaign ad, or love story.  The format and style are your plaything.  Have fun!

[Valdezi]

Rkshas ki Mrtyu

Mammal Tafren, Intaki Liberation Front

Once there was a family who lived by a wide muddy river. The man had a pet, a tame Rkshas, of which he was very fond.

The Rkshas was brown and grey and standing on its hind legs, would dwarf the man by several feet.

The man had found the beast as a cub, with its ribs crushed, whining and bleating, wallowing in a hollow by the river. Against the advice of others, he had taken it, half-mad with pain, back to his home, where he had nursed it, feeding it sweetened milk, until it was well.

The creature grew, until it could no longer be kept easily in the house, and soon, it loped off in search of a mate, disappearing across the river and into the trees, dissolving into grey mist.

The man searched in the woods tirelessly for the beast he had raised, sometimes taking his six sons with him. One day, he simply did not return, but the sons returned fearfully, looking back at the jungle with haunted eyes and refusing to speak of what they had seen.

Years later, howling could be heard from the jungle which crouched along the left bank of the river, especially after the long rains of Ramacandra. In the grey mists which blanketed the river and sometimes drifted over to the town people would see shapes, shambling grey figures that were decried as the servants of death.

The Rkshas ki Mrtyu loomed over the town, and all knew that to see it was as a harbinger of some dark destiny.

Some claimed to see it once, when the mists of Vitkala were thick over the river, emerging from the trees to stare sadly at a departing shuttle, which traveled skyward, into black inevitability, never to return.

Others say that the Rkshas ki Mrtyu was seen by Saxon Hawke the day before his son, Ravi was killed. But many scoff, saying that myths and superstition mean nothing in this age of capsules and empire. No ghosts exist, they say.

But as the grey mist descends and a distant howling is heard, there are none who are immune to the paralysing fear that accompanies the scrabbling of great grey paws and the scratching at the door.

[Lyta Hawkins]

Lyta Hawkins - Patriots and Tyrants [P-n-T]

Soul of Hive

The desiccated corpse of an immortal drifts near a long abandoned wreck that had once housed the capsule in which he had lived in. The capsule had long since been destroyed, leaving the frozen body alone and drifting amongst the stars while its consciousness fled to another clone.  But it was not to be alone for too long.

The frozen body was embraced by something in the darkness, a something that sang out across the stars to others of its kind. With little hesitation the body was taken from its grave amongst the wreckage and carried in the cold metallic embrace of its caretaker to another much larger than itself. Cradled almost lovingly the body was examined and then placed into an interface made specifically for it much similar to the capsule in which it once lived in. Singing almost a song of life to the interface it came alive with lights and a song of its own as it worked on the long dead body.

With an almost electronic brute force the cybernetics of the fallen man was activated. A ghost of consciousness remained within the neural interface of those cybernetics and it realized something was wrong. It was supposed to be alive in a new body but it felt no connection to its body or the subspace net. In those fleeting moments of panic the ghost reached out for anything and it found a different network, one that was loving and welcoming. Grasping for this life line the ghost was ripped out of its home in a manner totally unlike the first impressions. Unable to go back and trapped in this new network it felt the song come upon it.

It listened to the song and with the help of the new network was able to understand it as some sort of interface to a network of others. Following the general directions that were more directly followed than understood, the ghost felt itself settle physically into a new body. Opening its eyes it saw the first glimpse of its surroundings and its song became a scream.

Looking about itself the ghost in the shell of a drone saw the hive gather around him building him into a larger body. A body with a mind of its own forcing the ghost to serve the will of the hive with not a scream but a song.

[Vieve]

Vieve Tisserand ... er, what corps am I in these days?
---
> Welcome to the Mivo Essére Corporate Historical Archive.
> Name.
> I'm sorry.  I don't understand.  Please provide additional information or cancel the query.
> Colony.
> Would you like to see information about Mivo Essére colony names?
> Yes.
> Thank you.

Mivo Essére's initial probe survey of system Crux-Gamma suggested that it had three, not two, habitable worlds.

After several months of internal debate, the committee tasked with developing colony names decided to use Garouni poéides…

> poéides.
> Would you like to see the definition of poéides?
> Yes.
> A poéide or 'verse word' was a word employed as a mnemomem by proto-Gallente storytellers.
> mnemomem. Define.
> A mnemomem is a word or phrase employed in the dual roles of memory and memetic prompt.
> Just give me the names.
> I'm sorry.  I don't understand.
> Colony names.
> Lutesse, Mies III. Diandre, Mies IV.
> Not three?
> I'm sorry. I don't understand.
> Was there another colony name?
> Yes. Cridiemoure.  Cridiemoure is the local name for Mies I.
> And these are Garouni names?
> Yes.
> Define.
> I don't understand.
> Define colony names.
> Would you like me to resume providing information about Mivo Essére colony names?
> Yes.

> …instead of choosing modern Caldari or Gallente words or naming the planets after individuals from either culture.

The three poéides chosen were from a chant-fortune anecdotally attributed to Laurentide, Baron of Lesser Amily.  

> Would you like to hear an audio file of the hymn?
> Why the hell not?
> I'm sorry.  I don't understand.
> Yes.
> Solo male, solo female, homogender or heterogender chorus?
> Random.
> Heterogender chorus selected.  Caldari, Gallente, Miesian or mixed heritage?
> Does it matter? No. Cancel. Random.
> Mixed heritage selected. Audio playback begins.

Éla
Éla
Éla'ous même
Éla lutesse, réigne tyche
N'éla cridiemoure, réigne ananke
S'éla diandre, réigne meliae
Aous même e'en rêve, peur, travée
Aous même e'en sangre, ost, corvée
Aous même!

Audio playback ends.

Mivo Essére conducted a race-blind poll based on modernized Caldari and Gallente translations.  Eighty-five percent of the initial prospective colonist pool identified with the hymn's sentiments.

> What about the other 15 percent?
> They didn't become colonists.
> I'm surprised you understood that question.
> It's frequently asked.

[Ghost Hunter]

Ghost Hunter

True Slave Foundations

A little bit of a ghost story, a little bit of a love story...

(As sorely tempted as I was to write this about Ghost for the fullest sense of irony)

------

Among the many mysterious actions of Sansha's Nation, there is a particular one that finds itself touched upon quite often. Although one would be hard pressed to find any to admit to it, its taken something of a romantic air among the Imperial Navy's students. Some exalt it as a love tale of some esoteric tragedy and others use it as an example of Sansha's mad children.

For what ever the reason may be Selynne's Serenade, as it is often called, finds itself touched upon by every generation of students. The serenade's popularity arose out of a declassified Tash-Murkon military report on unusual Sansha activity. Bearing the hallmarks of censorship, the strangeness of the whole encounter was still apparent.

A desolate Sansha resupply outpost suddenly exploded with over a hundred different vessels. The dramatic rise in activity drew the attention of the Imperial Navy, who sent recon teams to monitor the situation. Their confused responses to command are considered by some to be the more humorous highlights of the report.

The Sansha had arranged their ships into a strange pattern whose meaning remains uncertain. The nature of space makes it difficult to tell which angle it was meant to be viewed at, throwing the few pictures that exist into question. Whatever their formation may have meant, it was the signals they were transmitting that were even more mystifying.

Officially the contents of the message remains indecipherable. Unofficially, the structure of the signal and the repetition of a specific name is what led many romantic Imperial students to think the Sansha were singing. Although the meaning of the message was clearly lost, it was directed specifically to one called Seylnne. Imperial investigations into the name concluded it was referencing Seylnne Mardakar, a high ranking Sansha officer. Students argue back and forth over the recording of the message that was later released if it was the voices of the Sansha themselves, or instruments of somekind. Musicians are confounded by the harshly dissonant and unpleasant notes, leaving most to consider it garbage.

It might never be known what compelled the Sansha to behave as they did. Regardless of what they were trying to communicate, their strangely non-aggressive behavior was unheard of for True Slaves. Romantic proponents have taken this as evidence for their side of the argument, but who could know what is on the mind of the True Slaves?

[Matariki Rain]

Kerem: Paiho: Winter 111

The foyer is overflowing with coats and boots. I've carried Maako in his sling closely against me under my coat. He stirs only a little as I bend to take my boots off and step inside the warmth and murmuring of the great hall.

I've made it just in time. Everyone stands as Auntie Mara gives the call.

"Call to the living and the dead of Atamahara!
"Call to the ancestors who went before; to those who share breath now; and to the dreamers who will be!"

Together we mumble the words of the opening greeting, then -- with varying degrees of grace -- we sit or kneel or somehow make ourselves comfortable on the floor.

Mata's big with her Gallente baby. She can't just drop to the floor any longer, and she certainly can't stand up again the way she used to. Shouldn't be here at a spirit-returning, but who's going to tell her "no"? We nod to each other as I sit beside her.

"Today we remember and recall Yanavendri Taeri Atamahara."

They don't need to say "Atamahara". Not given where we are. Not given the day. But they do it.

Calling her home.

"Yana is the third child of Liberty Sun, who was the first child in freedom of Taeri Aragei."

When I was tiny, Auntie Libby was ancient, with skin furrowed around her lips and long, long teeth.

"Yana gave life to five children of her own: her clanchild, Shontari, trained as a medic and supports the clanhouse at Ritukai..."

I remember wondering how we counted the children. It seems so simple when we list them like this, but she had ... three? four? miscarriages, and a stillbirth they say broke her heart.

We count the ones who breathe on their own. The dreamers whose forms cannot take breath... I do not know what happens to them. If I let it, the thought will haunt me.

I think instead of my studies. Gene strands unravelling. Re-forming. Our own special ways of saying never again.

The listing of the generations goes on and on. Auntie Yana's breath and pulse among us.

"... Kreys's fourth child, Untar, served the Republic and fell at the Battle of Tears ..."

Out of the corner of my eye I watch Torg Shamaatha Braya, who is here as Ko Braya's representative for the Maa'Tushindor. Untar died under his command.

I had a crush on Untar when I was a girl. Hugged to myself the dream that he'd father my clanchild. When it did come time, no one else quite compared with my child-memory of him.

"When she breathed among us, Yana was a weaver. She was one of the line who established Atamahara's place as a maker of traditional ashari cloth..."

Torg has brought the portions of the Maa'Tushindor regalia which she wove. They're gathered with others of her works: with the songbird hanging from the children's hall, with some old and well-used quilts, with her drawings of Paiho, with the last bolt of plain cloth she wove before she had to give up the loom...

... with the kei flowers she loved, their perfume clear and sweet in the hall.

I rock Maako, but it's really me I'm rocking. My eyes hurt, and I don't want to cry here, now. He stirs and blindly butts his head against me.

I soothe my half-waking son and squeeze Mata's hand.

We will make strong children.

We will take up the weaving.

[Matariki Rain]

Too long and -- I think -- too late to be in contention for anything, but I read this with only hours to go and liked the eulogy idea.

[Kybernetes Moros]

Character: Kybernetes Moros
Corporation: True Slave Foundations

---

The loss of the Merlin-class frigate Taashalkone on 59.09.01 at 18:59 was not particularly significant in any way on anything resembling a large scale. That is not to say that it was soon forgotten.

Belonging to NOH and used for small, fast courier jobs, on that day Nakkalen Aurila piloted the vessel with his wife Iltoh accompanying -- both low-level employees of the Nugoeihuvi Corporation breaking internal restrictions on family members assisting with work in designated 'corpvessels'. Drowning in corporation-assigned tasks and seeing one another less and less, each reasoned that while Iltoh was available it would be perfectly fine for her to go along with her husband on the courier run: he would be in the ship for a good few hours, an ideal and rare opportunity to be together, and nobody had to know about that one little rule being bent. Even if they did, surely they wouldn't mind? They must have families; they must know how it can be.

It left the Nugoeihuvi publishing station in Josameto without incident -- evidently nobody knew about that one little rule being being, or they didn't mind -- and aligned for a warp to the New Caldari stargate, its cargo of low-volume, high-cost luxury items for those few non-capsuleers who could afford them secure in the cargo bays and all systems functioning normally. Until, of course, the alignment away from the gate after the jump was complete and the ship's modest capacitor gave the warp core the requisite jolt. Hyasyoda, Jovians, simple mechanical error, all were blamed, but who did it interests nobody outside the CBT.

Intentionally or otherwise, the warp drive broke beyond any hope of repair at the precise moment Taashalkone entered warp. Freed of the spacetime drag from the drive holding it,special relativity, the ship accelerated to within one ten thousandth c -- and, as you know, a number of curious things happen at such speeds.

Of course, to the stationary observer, the ship simply burned, no, blazed with light before tearing apart seoncds later -- this luminosity, this Starlight, sharing its source with the Iyen-Oursta Lutins – but that c remains constant for all observers is axiomatic. This results in a certain dilation of time for the moving body; what was slightly above six seconds for the bystander stretched into days for the couple.

Two full days together from their perspective, before the first hull breach. 

[Ken]

This challenge is officially closed.

No sweat Matariki (at least on the time hack).

And... that's it!  This concludes our final challenge and the contest will now move on to judging.  Winners will be announced before Dec 3rd.  Thank you to everyone who submitted an entry for this challenge and for the previous three.  You've put together a lot of great stuff given very tight space and time requirements, and I have a feeling it is going to be very difficult determining the winners.