Footsteps ring hollow through the empty corridors of the 24th Imperial Crusade outpost in orbit over Kamela V, in the Bleak Lands. This time of night, little moves on this outpost. The fighting outside and on the habitable planets in this system quiets down. A man moves unescorted through the halls of a station currently in the hands of an enemy powerless to harm him, protected as he is by political treaties and laws regarding the status of capsuleers.
He arrives, third set of doors from the end of the corridor. Nondescript except for the stylized fist emblem bolted to the doors. The insignia of the Minmatar people. Beneath it, Du'uma Fiisi Integrated Astrometrics. So much history here. So many consequential decisions made in this very office, the headquarters of DF1AS. Disagreements and accords between himself and his directors. Between himself and Jade Constantine. Between himself and other CEOs of corporations attached to the Tribal Liberation Force. Just a few AU away, he had jumped through the -JFS- Black Plan's jump bridge countless times. Through the Choonka gate, he had flown with other militia pilots and with Star Fraction right through "secure" Amarrian territory and on into Providence.
When the decision to arrest him was made on Pator, Enkil Akheteru was arrested in this same office. As he was dragged out under restraint, he called out the activation of Du'uma Fiisi's tightest security protocol, activating the Avoheja VI and putting the corporation into lockdown. When he was finally released from Republic custody, he found his pilots scattered to the four winds. He never thought he would step foot into these offices again. But then, word was passed to him that she wanted to meet. After all this time, she had words for him. The last time they had spoken, they'd become enemies. There was no reason to expect this would change, but for all she'd done in Du'uma Fiisi's name... Havohej owed her a meeting, and he went.
"Cancel Condition Pale-eye," he spoke to the air before the door. "Voice authorization Akheteru seven-three-three-nine-Charlie-eight-three."
"Authorization Akheteru, recognized," the soft-spoken female Achura voice replied. "Condition Pale-eye cancelled." Enkil stepped forward and the doors hissed open for him. The Achuran woman projected into his desk chair stood up and retreated to the window, hands clasped in front of her waist. "Awaiting instructions," she said.
Walking to his desk, he orders a listing of the corporation's remaining assets displayed on the desktop. Precious little remained, most of it having been liquidated to avoid the death sentence the Shakor administration had sentenced him to for his war crimes, crimes against humanity and countless violations of Minmatar law, up to and including the placement and payment of bounties for the deaths of Minmatar civilians on Republic worlds. Nevermind that those civilians were a cancer, not even Minmatar anymore.
With the push of a button, he ordered all of these remaining assets delivered to his personal hangars on those stations. A few minutes later, public "Firesale" contracts were created across the cluster. He wouldn't need those things anymore. He hadn't needed them for a long time. Du'uma Fiisi Integrated Astrometrics existed now in name only, an entry in a CONCORD database. But it wasn't always like that. It used to be feared, by some. It had freed more than a million slaves from the Empire. But it wasn't enough.
It was never enough.
Enkil Akheteru had been branded a traitor by the tribes. His clan, Du'uma Fiisi, was no longer welcome on the ships of the Great Caravan. To show his face at the Oasis would mean death. So he'd retreated. From the Minmatar people, taking over a small alliance in Solitude. And when his goals there had failed, he retreated from known space altogether and joined Alexylva Paradox. They had a dream and a set of goals far removed from anything he'd ever done. It seemed like a chance to change. To do something that actually would matter. Jade Constantine had once said of Star Fraction, "We don't build empires, baby, we burn them." Enkil hadn't succeeded in empire burning. He'd help build something, instead. But he failed at that, too. In the end, he was what he was. He knew what he knew and he believed what he believed. The time where those things could be shaped by outside factors was past.
So when he left his meeting with Mizhara Del'thul, he spent the journey back to Origin thinking. By the time he got back to Renaissance, his path was clear. He spent the next few hours evacuating his ships, those he still had access to, from Origin back into k-space. He contracted Push to move his backup fleet of ships out of Solitude. He stole a cargo-rigged Mammoth and filled it with whatever looked useful out of the ALXVP corporate armory - advanced ammunitions, tech two modules, some rigs. And before he was discovered and stopped by Pilots Naraish and Karine Theissant, he absconded with a Stratios, a Fleet Issue Hurricane, a Purifier, a Vexor and a pair of Tengus - he left the heavy interdictors and battleships alone, he didn't want to hurt their operations. He owed them a debt of gratitude, for accepting him in his notoriety and giving him a chance. For trusting him in a cluster where "trust" and "Thukker" are seldom ever spoken in the same breath. The Hurricane he would fly, the rest he would sell to fund his new goals.
His old goals.
He knew that the powers that be would never approve of their actions, but she was right. They didn't need to convince the powers. They needed to win the smallfolk. They needed to terrify. He knew of some places where they might begin. Now he would help her the same way she'd helped him. Then, there had been lines he would not cross. This time, he would make sure that his part of the shadow they cast would be both large and unbound.
Author
Topic: Work to Do (Read 1677 times)