Burial Rites

  The Kronos came to rest in its berth in the station’s humongous space dock, the hull thawing in the pressurised atmosphere. Siddartha stood in the open airlock, having just decanted from his pod and made his ablutions, breathing deeply to take in the smell of space. It smelled a bit like steak. Just a tiny fraction, a hint of fragrance. Space couldn’t really smell like anything of course, there were not enough particles about that would afford space a smell. He had noticed the smell depended on what ship he was flying. The consensus is that it is the smell of components extracted from the metals in the ship that make it seem as if space has a smell.

His ship was hovering over the dock, illuminated from all sides by the glaring lights of the docking berth. Even now, as the ship was attuning itself to pressurised atmosphere, alll manner of crew and dock hands were opening various ports and cavities, to service the ship, to remove its cargo and to replenish consumables. You could tell a lot about how a station was run by the way the dock hands handled their duties. These were quiet, efficient and focused. They had established an almost effortless rapport with the crew to discuss and divide the duties each was going to perform. Siddartha was pleased with the no-nonsense attitude of the station crew. Their movement on and around the ship had more of a strictly orchestrated choreography. They clearly knew their way around his ship. Many pilots docked in this station using all manner of ships, they would have had ample opportunity to hone their skills on the multitude of hulls that came in for service.

In the cavity of the dock, the tools and machines that took care of the heavy lifting of equipment and cargo had their own kind of rhythm. Siddartha closed his eyes to allow the din of the space dock to bring forth its own music. It didn’t take long for a attern to establish itself. The drum of the hydraulics being recalibrated, the hiss of the consumables being recycled, the occasional thump when some object hit a larger object, the occasional shout as a chorus. To the uninitiated this was mayhem, chaos. To him it was the living, breathing heart of New Eden, an expression of the essence of what it meant to be a capsuleer. It was why he did what he did.

“Excuse me, sir?”

His train of thought was interrupted by the foreman whose team was working on his ship.

“What do you need?”

“Status update, sir. We want to know how you want the ship conditioned.”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

“Were you planning to reship this visit, sir?”

“I might, I’m waiting on confirmation. I still want her to be ready for action.”

“Thank you, sir.” He checked off a line on his touchpad. 

“We have updated all your consumables. Your crew was going to handle loading ammunitions from your corporate hangar. Did you want to swap weapons or modules?”

“No, I’ll take this configuration.”

“Alright.” Another tick. “Some of your modules were overheated and 3 drones show extensive damage. Do you want those damages repaired?”

“Yes. Obviously, how do you think I’m going to survive the next scrap with faulty equipment?”

“It’s an item on the list, sir.” The foreman switched the context of his screen and made adjustments. Right away some claxons sounded, notifying the crew repairs were going to be made to the ship and its drones. The crew dispersed, one man barely got out of the way in time for the automated sequence to start. The foreman made a note to call in the crew member for further training.

“Your cargohold has some valuables and common items. How would you like them to be handled?”

“I will put the valuables on the market, the common stuff will go to the corporate hangar to serve as equipment for ad hoc fleets that need to put together a working fit for non-essential operations.”

“Perfect, sir.” Another check.

“Your hold also, ahm, contains other cargo that we are not properly equipped to deal with, I’m afraid.”

Siddartha smiled. He had been waiting for it.

“We found what appear to be four capsuleer corpses.”

“That would be correct.”

“How would you like them to be handled, sir?”

“You don’t have to worry about those. I will take care of it.”

The foreman refused to display his discomfort by heaving a sigh of relief for not having to handle corpses. You never knew why the capsuleer types do the things they do. You don’t want to give them the satisfaction of showing they got to you.

“Thank you very much for your time, sir. Did you have any other questions or requirements?”

“Is this station capable of fitting SKINs?”

The foreman tried hard not to be indignant.

“Of course, sir. Our station can handle any SKIN available to you for whichever ship you choose to fly.”

“I thought as much. Do me a favor and fit this ship with the Biosecurity Responders SKIN, please.”

“Of course, sir. When the repair cycle has completed we’ll fit your ship with the SKIN.” He marked the requested procedure on his tablet.

“Thanks. I appreciate it. That will be all.”

The foreman nodded curtly and joined his team to handle the rest of the pilot’s requirements.

Siddartha made his way to his hold. The crew was busy finishing the transfer of goods. The four tanks holding the corpses had been left untouched. This was one cargo he never had to fear somebody would make off with.

One by one he opened the tanks to allow each corpse to thaw out. As soon as they were able to be handled he started working on them. He closed the eyelids of those who had been taken with their eyes open. He disengaged the connectors that were still attached to the body. He removed any clothing on the corpse and respectfully performed ablutions, straightening out the limbs and closing any wounds caused by the impact of the rending metal as the capsule disintegrated under incoming fire.

Siddartha performed these duties without haste, in great serenity. Soft music was playing in the background. He does not believe in the super natural. The universe as it presents itself is enough of a profound mystery on its own without having to invent stories about it. However, not even today, in this era of advanced knowledge, was humanity capable of saying it knew everything there is to know about the universe. On that off-chance that his perception was wrong about that, and if there was anything left of the essence that had animated these bodies while still alive, he did not want to deprive them of an opportunity to experience what little comfort he was still able to provide. And thus he played music. If not to soothe his own soul then perhaps those of these recently departed now under his care.

When he had completed the procedure he placed each body in a stasis container. He called for his crew to come and collect them. A junior aide looked at the containers with morbid fascination. Although she had been warned never to address or question a capsuleer, much less ask them why they do the things they do her mouth was faster than her mind could silence her.

“I’m sorry, sir. These corpses, they are the pod pilots that died during our recent engagement?”

Siddartha was too focused on his duties to be annoyed by the question.

“Yes. What of it?”

“I’m not sure why you would destroy their capsule and then collect their corpses and prepare them for their funeral? It seems odd somehow.”

“What is your name?”

“I’m Natalie, sir.”

“For whatever reason we entered into the engagement that ended up with them dying, Natalie, they are capsuleers. However we may think or feel about them, whatever our political inclination is, they are, for better of for worse, my kind, my people and therefore worthy to be treated with the utmost dignity and respect. These bodies, each of them are vessels that souls once passed through. I feel… compelled to treat them how I would like to be treated myself. Does that answer your question?”

“Yes, sir. It does. Thank you.”

“Alright. Please transfer these to my Obolus. These 4 will fill out its cargo hold and I will need to make a trip soon.”

Without a further word the crew moved the containers carrying the bodies out of the hold, to transfer them to the Obolus.

Siddartha opened a communications channel that his alliance would find deeply problematic if they knew about it. He did not spend time making conversation with the party on the other hand. He only made them aware that he was coming, he was friendly and not a threat.

When the four bodies were transferred to the Obolus, Natalie was curious.

“Don’t people get buried by shooting them out of a tube into space in this station?”

“Yeah?”

“So… why are these not loaded into a tube? It looks like the pilot is taking them somehwere?”

The oldest crew member shook his head wearily.

“There’s so much you don’t know about how this universe works. Look at this thing. It’s small, it’s got no weapons. It’s just got a hold to store one specific cargo into it. Where do you think this is going?”

“I honestly have no clue. Launch them into space himself, by way of a burial rite? You know, out of deference to his fellow capsuleers?”

The three other crew members burst out laughing.

“It’s a great crock of shit, that. We see him do this regularly. He doesn’t care about his fellow capsuleers, what nonsense. He’s in it for the ISK. This is not a celestial hearse to carry these corpses to the stars. He’s not burying them, he’s selling them to the Drifters.”

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Important note: This story was inspired by the line “each of them are vessels that souls once passed through” which Natalie provided.