State visit

There has been a very unusual high-level visit to Gottin's Lamp. It must have needed approval from the highest authorities, including our local branch of the Ministry of Internal Order.

Normally, a Sani Sabik queen and her daughter would be shot on sight. But yesterday, queen Synthia, the ruler of the system of Kaztropolis in Delve, and her daughter were under diplomatic immunity while visiting LUMEN's headquarters in Mehatoor. 

Kaztropolis follows Sabik customs, but they are far less blood-thirsty than the usual blood raider pirates that you would encounter in your average asteroid belt. I believe Aria once characterized them by stating that "as Sabik go they’re pretty benign". Their economy has a strong focus on the dairy industry, rather than blood. They are also famous for their non-toxic safety sports mud (an unusual export item indeed). 

And they also value academia! In fact, Kaztropolis University is well known internationally. Professor Valate works and teaches Takmahl history there. I met her a while ago, during the initial stages of my own studies of that lost civilization. It has been very difficult to organize any scientific collaboration, given the animosity between the Empire and Kaztropolis. Now that there are some diplomatic openings -for reasons that are beyond me- I am becoming hopeful that we may obtain better access to the vast amount of knowledge that they have gathered about the Takmahl. 

The reason for the visit to Gottin's Lamp specifically was a bit different though. Queen Synthia escorted her daughter Zara to us as an exchange student, or at least that is how I understood it. Young Zara appears less of a "synthetic human being" than Queen Synthia, and much more like a regular teenager. She is here to learn more about the Empire and its inhabitants. 

The choice is quite understandable from their side: no matter how good Kaztropolis University is, it is still located in some provincial backwater far away from the galactic hub of knowledge that is the Empire proper. Amarr and Hedion's vibrant scientific communities and their potential to stimulate the mind have no equal in the outer worlds. From our side, this presents a unique opportunity to introduce this young lady to orthodox scripture and to the true faith. Perhaps we can expose some of the Sani Sabik lies that cloud her young mind? We will see. 

Epikouria Chronicles IV

During my absence, another letter from brother Hugo arrived. It is a few weeks old by now. Anyway, in it he seems to be in a bad mood again, this time because he and his companions had to move to new quarters.

With the influx of refugees from New Huola the old station orbiting Epikouria IX had become too cramped. In truth, it had never been meant as more than temporary quarters. A beachhead to secure initial control over space after the deep-space colony transports arrived. From brother Hugo's description it appears to have been not much more than a bunch of colony ships welded together in what sounds like a very Thukker-like approach. 

A proper station, a more permanent home, had been in the making above planet IX almost from the get-go. It was inaugurated a week before brother Hugo wrote his latest letter. He describes how an impressive capsuleer fleet stood guard during its final anchoring. 

It is of course a hassle to have to pack up everything, and move. Especially when everyone else is doing it at the same time. So I understand his grumpiness.

The new station is laid out in the same way as the temporary habitat was. Orthodox Amarrians including missionaries such as brother Hugo and his companions are to be housed in a new Ardishapur quarter, still lower-deck. 

They do get more space, and it is supposed to be more luxurious and have all modern amenities a commoner can want. However, at this point it is still suffering from teething problems. In brother Hugo's apartment, the climate controls have not been working properly making the rooms too hot. Cold water comes out of the hot water taps and vice versa. And one light fixture dropped and nearly fell on brother Hugo. The Starborn on the higher decks assure everyone that these problems will soon be resolved and some difficulties of this kind are always to be expected when deploying new structures.

PPS. Links to keep track of the letters of Brother Hugo:
I. First Contact
II. Diplomatic Talks 
III. Refugee crisis

Leaving Mezagorm

Getting back to our "base camp" at square E1 of the biosphere took somewhat longer than the outward journey. We were carrying boxes with the twenty-two legionnaires. We chose the ones with least additional bones, just the skull. Still, attention was needed and the terrain is far from easy. 

We did not encounter further trouble from the gun-furriers, and only heard occasional shots fired at a greater distance. Unfortunately, the traps with the lure have not worked - only one of the many escaped gun-furriers was caught. The rest of them is still out their, shooting and multiplying.

This worries me deeply, especially since I know that from time to time a luxury cruiser from Galactic Tours dock in Mezagorm. Lady Agatha and her pet furrier mr. Maulus may be on that cruise again. I shudder at the thought of mr. Maulus meeting one of the gun-furriers. What if they mate? I am not even sure if mr. Maulus is biologically a mister or a miss. What if mr. Maulus gets pregnant, and the baby furriers carry the gun gene? Lady Agatha's tea parties may never be the same again.

So I insisted we board up the entrance to the biosphere, and put up a large bio-hazard sign, along with a printed request in all main Empire languages explaining the nature of the hazard and asking to keep the biosphere sealed. I am convinced the Theology Council will be coming for the rest of the relics, and hope they will re-seal the place after they finish their business here. I pray that the seals will also hold against any gun-furrier onslaught from within...

Everything is packed. We have samples that hopefully contain the electronics-disabling amoeba, and we have the holy relics of the legion of Ves-Udor. God seems to be smiling on our expedition now, since there is at this moment also a (no doubt temporary) lull in the war declarations by brigands against LUMEN, so common in this season. 

That means we can travel (relatively) safely through Empire space. First, to Mehatoor. Probably we will need some checkup and decontamination procedure from the Medlab. We can deliver the amoeba samples directly to the Ministry of Internal Order there, on in their station in Mehatoor. Then I will travel onward to the Theology Council Tribunal station orbiting Zorast in Amarr, to deliver our precious relic finds and have them authenticated.

The legion of Ves-Udor

Long ago, before space flight, the Udorians lived on Athra along with the Amarr. They were a proud and mostly nonreligious people inhabiting two continents south of Amarr island. They were traders and masters of the sea. They were eventually reclaimed, although that took time.

During that time, the faithful were persecuted all over the Udorian realms. Still, despite the danger, faith took root and some of their people converted in secret. One of them was Saint Maras. He was the commander of one of the legions of Ves-Udor. After receiving a vision of a Sefrim guiding him to victory during a battle against other heathens, he pledged his heart and soul to the one true God. He rallied his troops and won the battle. As he was a very popular and revered leader, known for his wisdom and justice, soon all six thousand soldiers under his command also converted to our faith. 

Things went well for them until one day when they were ordered to attack a village of fellow faithful. The legion refused. They knew very well what this meant: they had openly exposed themselves as practicing the Amarr religion! Because of that, they were ordered to death. They had no hope of escape: the route to the coast, to get to Amarr island, was cut off. They fought bravely, and all died a martyr's death. 

The stuff of epic movies, and there have been many about them!

They were buried where they made their last stand. Much later, after all of Athra was reclaimed, their remains were dug up, and became popular and revered relics. At first they were kept in a large monastery on the fields where they were slain, but soon the relics were being lent out, and then bought, or even stolen. 

Important Houses started to collect skulls of soldiers from the saintly legion of Ves-Udor, like children collect playing cards. They made special display cabinets, tried to group them by squad. Feuds were fought to obtain prized centurions or officers. The revered skulls were adorned with specially designed relic cloths, each one unique and linked to an individual legionnaire. Their shape imitates the typical crested helmets of the Udorians at the time: 

Today, only two hundred eighty-three out of more than six thousand skulls are accounted for in churches and cathedrals, although many more are believed to be in private chapels all over the Empire.

In the safes at the Tetrimon vault, we found no less than one hundred fifty-three additional legionnaires! A collection worthy of a Royal House. We cannot take all of them with us, they are too bulky and must be handled with the necessary caution and reverence. Abandoning all unnecessary equipment, we managed to safely pack twenty-two legionnaires (five officers among them), and will begin our walk back through the biosphere. 

May the holy legion protect us!

[[ooc comment: this is based on a true story - during the Roman persecution of the christians, the 'Theban legion' led by saint Maurice refused to attack fellow christians and for that disobedience the whole legion was executed. Their skulls with typical adornment became collector's items in the Middle Ages. The picture shows one of these skulls, and was taken at a temporary exhibition of relics in the archaeology museum of the Basque country, Spain]]

Tetrimon records

The book on the table starts by describing (and tabulating) how the garrison received many relics to keep in hiding. This happened soon after the decades-long civil war ended between on the one hand the Council of Apostles and on the other hand forces loyal to Emperor Heideran V and the lords of the Privy Council. The Tetrimon had chosen the losing side, the side of the Apostles, but not openly. Their grand-master, Tetrimon IV, secured the relics that were held by the Council of Apostles, and hid them in places such as the vault here in Mezagorm. This book is important proof of that crime.

Enter the Theology Council. The Theology Council was installed by Emperor Heideran V to replace the Council of Apostles. Its first task was to remove from scripture all the heresies of the Apostles. But its inquisitors were also hunting for lost relics. 

The book writes that in the summer of 21948, a Theology Council fleet was on its way to Shastal, bound for Mezagorm. 

Now we know that the Theology Council inquistors had no idea about a Tetrimon cache here. They came to Mezagorm to look for old scripture. After the death of Zaragram, the Council of Apostles became very powerful and changed scripture to cement their power. To undo this and show that the Apostles usurped scripture would further justify and glorify the efforts of Emperor Heideran V.

However, the garrison did not know that, and they thought that the inquisitors had found out about the hiding place. They panicked that it was no longer safe. In a hurry, they moved most items, including unfortunately the Ink of Truth (denoted by its code AVSAP in the tables of outgoing relics). It has new codes for other hiding spaces, but that will require more intensive study, and a comparison to the book I found in Baron Redwolfe's library.

However, they did not take everything in their hurried flight - they had to leave behind a particular relic, the legion of Ves-Udor. That is no doubt what lies in the closed lockers.

In the vault

Superstitious people will claim that ending my last log by saying that "nothing can go wrong" is a certain prelude for disaster. Yet this time, things went well!

The gun-furriers out in the wild have not shot at us, and indeed they seem to be very quiet. Perhaps they need a rest after the excitement from bingeing power pellet food. We followed the route that we used before, but avoided the swampy area close to the inner lake. Even with a lot of equipment to carry around in sealed containers, we made good time and arrived at the sewers.

We were able to cut through the plates that sealed the vault, and entered it.  

What this room used to be before is not clear, the Tetrimon clearly repurposed it. It is a large oval room, with lockers and safes all around, and a wide steel table in the middle. The safes seem organized by size and purpose, some are clearly designated for small items or scrolls, while others may even have had climate control to preserve sensitive items. Most of these safes are open, and empty, or just containing an empty tray, but there is a whole side full of equally sized lockers that are still closed.

There is a book on the table. I have had to temper the eagerness of my team - they wanted to immediately pry open the closed lockers. I insisted that we need to consult that book first, perhaps it contains warnings or instructions to open the lockers without damaging any of the relics. 

Emergency meeting

We held an emergency meeting in the Indagatrix to discuss what to do next.

We brainstormed on how to contain the uncontrolled spread of the gun-furriers. A promising idea is to lure them back to their cages with food they find tasty, but if even a few remain in the wild that will not work. We will try anyway.

We also decided to make a last dash attempt to get back to the Tetrimon relic vault. It is quite certain that when we return to Mehatoor the exploration permit for Mezagorm obtained by Mr. Firth will be revoked, given the permanent damage to the historical biosphere that our mistake resulted in. So this may be my last chance in a while to explore this particular site.

Mr. Firth is of the opinion that we better not get back empty-handed. We might already have one prize: the discovery of an electronics-disabling amoeba (if that really is the cause of the electronics failures). But with a second positive outcome the case could be made that the end was worth the means. After all, as far as we know, the Empire does not have any plans with Mezagorm except letting it decay in space anyway.

We now know the way, and know what equipment we need to open the vault. The bone-shard bullets shot by the gun-furriers can be stopped by armor - they are meant to be used as stealth weapons rather than full-on assault weapons - so we can defend ourselves. 

Finally, we know what we get in to and have a plan where nothing can go wrong any more.

Furrier in the rye

As we tried to approach our base camp in E1, we came under attack a couple of other times. It always felt as an ambush, and we proceeded with the same stratagem as before, one group shooting back to keep the attacker or attackers occupied while others tried to make an encircling motion to approach the enemy from behind. 

Soon, it became clear that our attackers had two prevalent traits: firstly, they are invisible, only revealing themselves by the rustling of the rye or cracking of branches, and the occasional gunshot. Second, they have an incredibly bad aim. None of us ever got shot, even though we were almost always caught at unawares by a shot ringing out.

Crouching and crawling and disguised as bushels of rye, we did make it back to our starting place at the edge of the biosphere. 

There, the nature of our attackers was finally revealed.

We have made a most horrible mistake: the pens holding the gun-furriers had electric programmable locks. They failed, as all electric equipment does sooner rather than later in this biosphere. The gun-furriers escaped their cages, and quickly found their food supply.

To save on space, their supply consists of bags of power-food pellets, containing high doses of nutrients and energy. Only a small amount is needed per furrier per day. However, they managed to peck open the bags and gorged themselves on the power-food. We found some that died of it, a heart attack from the overdose, but most of them just got hyper-excited, pumped up, and started running and hopping off crazed in any direction. Some spontaneously started shooting from the sugar rush, others fired off occasional shots while mating. 

There never were Blood Raiders with invisibility cloaks, there were gun-furriers going berserk in the rye.

This is an ecological disaster. 

Gun-furriers, to aid Amarr's industrial-military complex in quickly building up weapon supplies, breed like rabbits. Here, in the biosphere, they do not seem to have any natural predator, so they are bound to spread out and multiply quickly. There is enough food in the form of grains and berries and insects to sustain them after they calm back down after their powerpellet rush. It is going to be impossible in this vast expanse of nature to hunt them down, let alone to find them and get them back into cages.

For a thousand years, this biosphere endured in a delicate equilibrium between the various organisms, persisting unchanged in a deserted station, only relying on passive systems to close the ecological and water cycles, a testimony to the brilliance of Amarr bio-engineering. Now all that is about to change.

Under attack

As we headed back through the biosphere to our own entrance square E1, we came under hostile fire in E3. Have we been followed by Blood Raiders, or Sansha? Or perhaps others, whose ships are not so clearly visible on the Mezagorm space grid?

Mr. Firth has some military training, and he took command of the team. He split us in two groups, and put the main group under delegated command of mr. Fulk, my cargo bay loader, as he has shown the greatest skill at handling gun furriers. We were ordered to keep engaging the enemy, firing in their general direction from behind some fallen trees. 

I, being unarmed, was asked to hurl rocks in that direction, and tried to comply, but might have thrown some pine-cones in stead in the general confusion.

Meanwhile, mr. Firth and ms. Ellur would make a circling movement, crouching along a ditch, to attack the enemy from the side or perhaps the rear, quietly, using knives to slit their throat, perhaps picking them off one by one.

I panicked a little as I realized that is was not clear how exactly we would know when to stop shooting or throwing the locally grown ordnance at the enemy. Would we not end up shooting our friends? Mr. Fulk reassured me he would know and he would give the order to stop firing and I was to stop overthinking everything.

While occasional shots rang out from the enemy position, we fired back (or threw things like a branch since I ran out of stones). After a while the shooting stopped altogether. Soon after, Mr. Firth appeared. The enemy has vanished into thin air. Fearing that they too are making some sort of circling motion, we moved out in an unexpected direction, going towards D3 rather than continuing onwards to E2.

Treasure chamber

The "sewers" consist of a mess of water-filled tunnels connecting various cisterns. At first, I feared that we might need a boat or a flotation device to explore these canals. However, there are plenty of walkways over the water, most of which lead us to what I suspect was a control room in the center of the facility.

The room is sealed off, steel panels have been welded in front of the door, some warning scribbled on it. That is a good sign, and it even got better when we found a computer terminal that confirmed our hope: this place has also been used by the Order of Saint Tetrimon. The equipment clearly postdates the era of Mezagorm's building, and shows the hallmark logo of the Tetrimon. 

This must be the place where they hid the relics, perhaps even the Holy Ink of Saint Aloysius! But, try as we might, though, we could not open the door with the tools that we brought along. The crowbar broke. Also, the console did not work any more. Whether this is of old age or due to the biosphere's ability to render electronics useless is not clear. 

We will have to come back with some welding equipment of our own and drills, safely packaged in order to traverse the biosphere undamaged. But now that we have figured out a path through it and found our destination, we should be able to come back faster next time. So, we decided to head back to the Indigatrix, the necessary tools are certainly on board.

Artificial rain

It was raining when the team woke up, an unexpected feature on a space station. I think the engineers working on Mezagorm were given a blank check when designing this biosphere, if the water cycle is still working. 

Warm air, carrying more moisture than cold air, will rise to the top of the dome, and natural ventilation brings it along cold fingers where the water can condense. There must be a mechanism whereby, when enough water has been collected this way, it drips out back to the floor, like water pours of out a tipped water clock. Back down, it can be reabsorbed and evaporated again by the vegetation and the lake.

After the rain, the team noticed that there was a bad smell. Following the source of the stench led us to some sort of collection basin and a structure next to it, perhaps a water purification or reprocessing station? It is not clear what this structure is for or how exactly it is part of the water cycle or mineral cycle in the biosphere. 

However, I am quite certain that this is the last piece of the riddle that points us to "the stench of sin". We have been able to force the entrance door to what, for lack of a better understanding of its purpose, we are calling "the sewers". 

Crossing the biosphere

The trek was not as easy as we thought. The conifer forest gets more dark and dense with branches as we get near the center of the biosphere. We did not spot any animals, although there are insects: forest ants and aphids. But we did not see any rodents or larger animals. Perhaps there are some in the patches of rye, but to keep ms. Ellur satisfied, we avoided those. 

We encountered a few small creeks. But near the center, near grid E4, these creeks merge into a small lake, too deep to wade through. Mr. Firth and some others tried, but their guns started panicking and squeaking as the cold water level rose. Afraid that they may shoot their bullets from stress, the team returned to the shore. 

Rounding the lake took a long time, and we passed through a beech forest on swamp land. The mud slowed us down considerably, and we had the unpleasant impression that the trees were closing in on us. But things went better as we reached good solid ground again, and came upon a field of blueberries. Most people ate a good few handfuls of them, and I was very sorry that my vulnerability would not allow me to  take of my suit and partake. 

We reached F8 much later than foreseen, and the team decided to make camp for the night; the roof of the dome dims the light simulating night, while it continues to harvest solar energy for other purposes. 

It will be a very uncomfortable night for me, as I have to remain in my suit. Also, I avoid eating, but I cannot avoid hydrating. The suit's capacity to store liquids is limited to what is deemed useful for one night of partying. Perhaps I will have to expose myself for a short while to the pathogen at some point, but for the moment I am still keeping the seals intact.

Gun practice

We had a slight delay entering back into Mezagorm, given that there was again a small contingent of Blood Raiders lurking around.

After they  left, we were able to deploy back to our base of operations, the biochemical lab turned Tetrimon garrison at the edge of the biosphere. 

It feels strange that our armory looks like a pet zoo, with furriers in cages and bags of furrier food (with extra calcium so they can produce bone-shard bullets). 

The crew is training with the gun furriers, and has been doing some practice shooting at bulls-eyes painted on tree trunks. Ms. Ellur refuses to stick her finger in a gun-furrier, and will rely on her knife in stead. Also I did not join this training: I will be wearing a hazmat suit (so that I am not suffering from breakdowns in my implants) and handling the furrier might compromise the suit's integrity. 

My suit will do more than keep amoeba out: it is even nanite-proof. It was originally designed during a pandemic on Archavoinet, to allow people to continue partying safely during the lockdown. It has a text "Party is not a crime" on it. I suppose that if you can dance in it, you can hike in it.

With everything ready for the trek through the biosphere, we will leave tomorrow after early breakfast.

Epikouria Chronicles III

While heading back to Mezagorm, I took a bit of time to go through my mails, and read the latest letter from Brother Hugo, keeping me informed about the Epikouria colony.

Although brother Hugo and his companions are restricted to the Ardishapur sector of the station orbiting Epikouria IX, they seem well aware of what is going on elsewhere. Their congregation consists almost entirely of lower-deck baseliners, doing basic maintenance or janitorial jobs - the underappreciated quiet workers who go unnoticed every day but whose hard work keeps the station running smoothly. They do not seek the spotlight, and yet they go everywhere and see and hear all that is going on. And this they share with their pastors.

In this week's letter, brother Hugo writes about an influx of refugees to the station, mostly baseliners but also some capsuleers. 

They call themselves "Ghosts of Aridia" and have been evicted from their wormhole system of New Huola, after a brutal war. The war started out with a surprise invasion of New Huola, that they struggled to repel. Out of the blue, a new ally in shining armor appeared. With the help of both these newcomers and a LUMEN relief force the siege was broken, and the war turned in the Ghosts' favor. An invader fleet of Loki-class cruisers worth tens of billions of ISK and several operating bases of the invaders were destroyed. 

But then, with the invaders retreating and victory seemingly within the Ghosts' grasp, the new "ally" betrayed them and turned against them. Having gained the trust of the Ghosts and having infiltrated their military channels and their stations, the ally-turned-enemy staged a coup and ousted the Ghosts from power. The Ghosts left New Huola, with many returning to the Empire, but some of them seeking refuge in Epikouria. They bring along many baseliner refugees from the various New Huola stations. Although in the lower decks the commoners grumble that the new immigrants will be taking their jobs, brother Hugo is happy with the influx of more orthodox Amarrians, mainly Aridians of Ni-Kunni descent. 

The refugee crisis delayed the ongoing diplomatic talks between the Starborn and the Originals. Nevertheless some progress was already made regarding the division of powers in the system. Current proposals have the Originals retain full authority on the planets (except for mining concessions) while the Starborn have authority in space. Brother Hugo writes "The more I learn about the Originals, the more I am dismayed about their perversions of the flesh!" He does not go into details, but promises to write more about them in a next letter.

PS. I am renaming the recurring logs on the colony from "Missionary Missive" to "Epikouria Chronicles"

PPS. Links to keep track of the letters of Brother Hugo:
I. First Contact
II. Diplomatic Talks 

Gun-furriers

Coronation day passed without incidents or further provocations from the sedevancantists. Now that this delicate time is over, and given that the fallout over Libby's reappearance in Mehatoor seems mostly contained, Mr. Firth is again free to join us in his capacity of political officer on the Indagatrix. We reported what happened over the last couple of weeks to him, to bring him up to speed.

Mr. Firth is in that stage of youth where one thinks that one already knows all there is to know about a subject after one or two experiences. With a look that impersonates a seasoned veteran, he scolded our amateurism in exploring the Mezagorm biosphere, and proudly revealed an MIO weapon suitable for the task.

Modern guns, even projectile weapons, always have some electronics in them. The hobbyist expects their gun to send them an e-mail when it is time for maintenance or ammunition is low. It might even automatically buy new ammunition, and give feedback on pulse and blood pressure when handled. For those that keep a gun under their pillow - not uncommon in more rural areas of the outer worlds - it even tracks the quality of sleep and has a programmable alarm clock imitating a gunshot. Guarantees you to be awake. Of course, because of its electronic components it is unusable in Mezagorm's biosphere.

The handguns that mr. Firth checked out from the Ministry depot do not have electronics. Also, no metal. The MIO checkout catalog did not have guns merely without electronics available, so he had to go full option. The guns he chose are fully biological, and alive. These things are meant as stealth weapons, to be smuggled into venues without raising alarm. 

Bio-mechanics is not to be underestimated. For example, adetomyrma venatrix, also known as the Dracula ant because it sucks blood from its larvae (a behavior known as 'nondestructive cannibalism') is able to snap its jaw accelerating it from 0 too 300km/h in merely 10 microseconds. So, it should be no surprise that fully bio-based guns have been developed, shooting tiny ultrahard bone fragments like a regular projectile gun.

This works best if the bio-mechanical device is still alive. In order to conceal its deadly nature, the MIO developed bio-mechanical guns that look exactly like furriers. Personally, I find their use to be somewhat disturbing. You prime them by petting, and then one has to stick a finger in an orifice in the back to find and pull the trigger bone. The startled animal shoots in the direction that its beak is pointing. 

Nobody expects an old ladies' furrier to be a lethal weapon (unless they have met mr. Maulus, lady Agatha's pet furrier).

With this special gear, Mr. Firth is confident that we will be able to explore the biosphere, safe from both raiders and dangerous fauna. After we arrive in Mezagorm, the entire crew will receive elementary training in gun-furrier use and petting safety.

Stuck in a tree

For our hike through the biosphere, we had hermetically sealed all electronics in a box. 

But we forgot that capsuleers are also full of circuitry.

I do not remember much of this, and I am relaying what the crew told me. I do remember the headache, which became quite unbearable after about an hour walk. Apparently, I started saying things that did not make sense. At first, they thought I was simply making little mistakes from time to time, or showing signs of old age. But then I also started to act strange. Little bouts of running. Anxiously looking into the forest.

When this became more severe - I started relentlessly attacking ferns with a stick I had found, the crew finally realized this was not the eccentricity of an aging capsuleer, but that whatever was afflicting electronics, was doing its work on me too. They tried to convince me to abort the walk, and to go back to the Indagatrix's medbay. It almost worked.

Then Ms. Ellur tried sprinking holy water from Mishi on me (she always carries a small vial of it with her). It actually made things worse, as it startled me and I ran away, yelling "overheat afterburner!". The crew chased me. I climbed in one of the tall conifers. The strongest of the crew, my cargo bay loader, was sent up after me to try and get me to come down. 

Every time he got closer, I climbed higher. In the end, both me and my cargo bay loader were near the top of the tree, swaying dangerously from the weight now destabilizing its upper branches. He managed to attach a rope to me, and secured the rope on the tree, using the trunk and the sturdiest branch as a makeshift pully. Very makeshift - I fell in spurts of three to four meters before the rope caught me back each time. It took a lot of time and a lot of struggling, but in the end, I was brought back to ground, and was too exhausted and bruised to put up any resistance any more. 

They brought me back, and convinced me to put the Indagatrix on autopilot back to Mehatoor - I was unable to fly the ship myself. Back in Mehatoor, decontamination again did not reveal anything, no nanites, no radiation damage, no parasites. The pit corrosion was also present in my malfunctioning clone's circuitry. The lab's working hypothesis is that the damage is caused by some biological entity that does not survive outside the biosphere. From the size of the pit corrosion they think it is most likely a type of amoeba. 

Basically I was told that now I am old and mouldy.

They advised us to bring back a sample of the biosphere in a sealed sample collection box, making sure to include soil and plants and some electronic device in the box, and seal it enclosing some of the biosphere's own air. 

Coronation day

So, a lot has happened - and I have had to reclone. But I will write up the log report for that later. 

For today, remembrance and celebration! 

The Indagatrix, an Anathema-class vessel, was not visible among the formation of battleships that stood proudly in formation at the wreck of Empress Jamyl's titan. Archbishop Merdaneth gave a gripping speech, after which we held a minute of silence. It was impressive to see these mighty ships sit at attention silently.

After that stop in Safizon, the fleet headed out to Amarr, to the Imperial Guard above Amarr, where we launched fireworks in celebration of Empress Catiz. Some traders from abroad dropped by to watch the spectacle. One trader from the Federation, by the name of Hibernate, fulfilled the Gallentean stereotype by exclaiming "empress so cute :3" in local. But apart from that and a few shady offers for gambling on galnet, all was serene and joyful.

The night ended with a reception and formal ball at the Excubitoris Chapterhouse. I had hoped to meet lord-consort Shutaq-Newelle there - I have not seen him for a long time and he was part of the fleet. But he and lady Newelle had other coronation day events to attend. No worry, I did have the pleasure to speak with other friends and meet up with the high society of our alliance.

And now back to Mehatoor, to figure out what is wrong with that clone that was brought back from Mezagorm.

Hiking

Crossing the biosphere from the side of the Tetrimon garrison to the opposite side would have been easy and fast in one of the planetary vehicles. However, with electronics breaking down, and with any roads being long since overgrown, it is impossible. We have decided to do this the "old fashioned" way, simply walking over, using the structure of the dome above us to guide us and keep us on track. In general, we do not want to rely on devices that could break down.

That being said, we are taking some things in a sealed container with us. Comms, navigation tools, hacking/e-lockpicking tools, first-aid devices, and upon the insistence of ms. Ellur also projectile guns. Some blades, to cut our way through thicker parts of the woods, do not rely on electronics at all so should be safe. She also brought along a blade that she marked with three full circles with a notch in the bottom - the Amarrian symbol for God united with humanity. Ms. Ellur claims that this is the only thing that can kill rye wolves. She moreover suggests we stick to the forested areas and avoid the patches of rye altogether.

The walk will take several hours, since we need to cross about twenty kilometers of forest. So, we also took enough food and water with us. We should be able to go and come back in a single day, but have enough provision to stay overnight at the square of the black king's bishop.

I look forward to the hike!

Next piece of the puzzle

Something bugged me, but I did not know what. I had this restless feeling that a thought was knocking at the door of my consciousness. I kept mulling it over fruitlessly, feeling that I missed something important.

I have had this feeling since bringing mr. Damus back to Mehatoor for leg repair. As he could not walk, he was confined to the Indagatrix's small medbay. We have been talking and playing chess while speculating on the cause of the malfunctions.

This morning, as I was taking a shower, I suddenly caught the thought that I was chasing and that had been lurking in the corner of my mind. It had nothing to do with the malfunctions -we are not closer to solving that mystery- but it was about the riddle. And about chess, the ancient board game we were playing. The "dark king's bishop" in the garden is a reference to the fact that the biosphere is laid out exactly as a chess board. In that game, there are black and white pieces, and there are kings and their bishops. 

For black, the king's bishop is placed on square F8. 

That is where we should go and search.

((ooc image source: an attempt at AI generation of Amarrian chess pieces...))

Ministry monitoring

Before heading back to Mezagorm to resume my exploration, I briefly met with the Indagatrix's political officer, mr. Firth. 

He tells me that although the turmoil surrounding Ms. Yubari has somewhat shifted to the background for now, it is by no means gone. Especially coronation day is a thorn in the side of the sedevacantists, for obvious reasons, and the Ministry of Internal Order expects trouble. 

Monitoring sedevacantist chatter on social media has revealed to the Ministry that there is internal dissent among them. Some of them, especially those that came over from the Purity of the Throne cult, reject the arch-heretic's claim that Ms. Yubari will give birth to the new emperor. They insist that any true emperor must be of pure Amarr blood. Diametrically opposed to them are the Promissae Matris, a new and very Yubari-centered devotional cult. The Ministry considers it quite possible that the arch-heretic's latest sermon will lead to a schism in the sedevacantist movement.

Mr. Firth will assist the Ministry in following these developments closely, at least until coronation day is over, after which he will be rejoining the crew of the Indagatrix. 

I will inform the rest of the crew, who no doubt will as be sad as I am that we will have to miss our political officer for another week.