Zarzakh Report: Hrada-Oki Memorial
DISCLAIMER: The Scope cannot verify the veracity of this individual’s account of events and their opinions do not represent the opinions of the Scope. We trust that our readers have the capacity to decide for themselves what is an appropriate degree of skepticism to apply to the following narrative.
Despite my best efforts, I am still alive. Others have been less fortunate.
Let’s smother any speculations over why I have not been ordered to exit the fulcrum through the nearest airlock. A memorial was held today and this is not the time for my factory default naval gazing. Yesterday, the Hrada-Oki held their own clan-exclusive funeral rites in a manner and location unknown. I would like to imagine they committed the remains of their comrades back to the cold vacuum of the Great Wildlands that birthed them. The thought brings more comfort than the bitter bottle I drained in their name.
Today’s memorial was for the rest of us, the sedentary denizens of this colossus. Members of every ring of the Deathless Circle came out to pay their respects, from the Wraiths to the Custodians. Some Satori-Horigu suits even showed up and bowed their perfectly quaffed heads. Some Angel Cartel affiliates sild in, and even the Guristas stopped by to pay a pirate's due. The Guristas have been known to associate with the Fraternal aggressors who ushered a number of the departed onto their final journey, but a shared understanding of professionally negotiable allegiance meant that none were sour over the contradiction. Even Vepas Minimala, elder statesman of the Ninth Mega, was spotted in the crowd.
Caravanmaster Malaya Hrada read a list of the names of every single crew member who passed, a process that proved the crowd’s respect by testing their patience. As she spoke, her face was dark, but her eyes were clear. Beside her sat the grand treasure that justified all that frozen blood floating out in Avenod — an Atavum.
She ended her list with praise for the capsuleers who had declined to kill her family members, “I thank all those who remained true, and made sure that our clanners' cargo completed its journey when they could not. We honor Voana Itovuo, first to deliver an Atavum into our hands. Like the others who fought beside us she asked for neither riches nor glory, our Journey’s Shield. From that first Atavum, our scientists were able to determine what we would need to reveal the mystery that haunts our system.
“Now they have built a research facility to which all the Atavum scattered across the cluster can be brought and studied so we may better understand the secrets of this forgotten technology. Dr. Esme Moreno will join them in these efforts, uncovering new insights.”
Malaya pointed into the crowd at the flustered visage of Dr. Esme Moreno. A Chemal Tech geneticist brought to the Fulcrum by some capsuleer who goes by “Rabbit-P”, Esme has long since abandoned her highsec origins. Now the good doctor is one of the Circle’s top minds. According to a lab tech I regularly entertain with my stories of misfortune, Moreno has been working on bleeding edge genetic manipulations in partnership with some hood-wearing-chanting types.
“The Deathless himself has put out another call for more Atavum,” Malaya continued “and these mysterious devices are already pouring in. There is a secret hidden outside our doors and if we can understand it will be one step closer to achieving the future we all fight for.” This was met by loud applause from the crowd, though a louder silence from the Angels and Guristas present. “A future my people have bled for time and time again. Today we honor their names, tomorrow we finish what they started.”
Cheers echoed so loudly you’d think the walls screamed in unison. Glasses were raised, and I myself dove deep into my cups. The honored dead passed on in the dishonorable manner those of their lifestyle often do. Every one of them was a roughneck vagabond, a thief, a murderer, a petty outlaw, but they were also my friends.
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