I was getting sick of Sister Alitura. The more I dug my heels in to finish her mundane tasks, the more frustrated I was becoming. She was sending me all over Empire space to her various contacts, each of whom was in “need” of my special abilities. Really, it was a crock. Deliver farming supplies, drop off a rag doll to a personal friend, tasks that simply made me cringe at their abuse of my Capsuleer status. All the while, I silently cursed Shakor, thinking of how my bitterness would probably destroy the relative friendship we had built. Honestly, I didn’t care. This was pathetic at best. I craved action and excitement.

In Gallente space, some data finally came to light regarding Mordu’s Legion. There was no clear indication as to how they were involved, and it was my job to scout a known nearby outpost for information about their recent activities. Finally, something I could take to with gusto.

My Rifter reverted to normal space, and I started scanning the area. Moments later, Aura started warning me of multiple inbound hostiles; Mordu’s Legion had come home. Immediately, I was webbed, and they were moving into position for the kill. I accelerated towards them, targeting the frigate that had webbed me as my primary. That was when they started jamming me and my shields began to fail. I was impressed at their coordinated effort, but knew that once I countered their jamming frequency, I would tear into them with unrestrained fury.

Sadly, that moment never came. My shields peeled away well before I could get my weapons back online. Aura warned of one of the ships trying to warp scramble, and I knew it was time for me to go.

I reported my findings to Sister Alitura, who had more information about the rogue drone fiasco. Apparently, it was the same drone affecting all of her contacts. She wanted me to go to Caldari space and seek out her liason there. 

Our eyes met, neither of us willing to break the gaze first. I would be shot on sight in Caldari space. I am sure she knew this. I challenged her with my stare and she didn’t back down. Finally, I chose to surrender this battle, my duty conquering my pride. I nodded to her and made my way to Caldari space, grinding my teeth all the way.

Seven ships and 100 million ISK later, I was more than pissed off. Shakor damn well better reimburse me for this, I thought to myself. This entire mission was a suicide run. No matter how fast I was, no matter how much I overheated my afterburner, the Caldari Navy was merciless in its pursuit and destruction of me. I was a lemming in my stubborness to succeed.

I had to find another way.

I sent a comm to Mynxee. I sent a comm to PyjamaSam. I sent a comm to my corp. Mynxee and Sam mocked me. “Welcome to New Eden, noob.” Sam had said. “Get over it, darlin. The universe doesn’t revolve around you.” Mynxee chimed in. My corp was busy mining. If I was angry before, I was enraged now. I cut the comms, realizing how fickle even friendships could be. In the end, you could rely on yourself and nobody else. 

Fine.

I was requisitioning a new Rifter when I got a call on my private comm; Nathan Carver. There was a name I hadn’t seen in over a year. Nathan and I used to be corp mates in the Cognitive Factor before the war started. COG was based in Caldari space, though I worked from the nearby Minmatar system of Korama while under their employ. I had made some good friends, and learned a lot about life in New Eden from their tutelage. When the war started, fate had a different path destined for me. I answered the comm.

“What’s up Roc? Haven’t seen  you in Caldari space in a while.” Nathan said.

“How’d you know I was here now?” I asked.

“Are you kidding? The entire system knows you’re here. The Navy keeps broadcasting your presence across all the traffic bandwidth. Everyone and their brother will be shooting at you. Just thought you’d want to know.” 

I sighed deeply. This mission just kept getting worse and worse. I was a declared public enemy of Caldari State, free to fire upon by any willing to claim the bounty they had posted on me. 

On the one hand, it was finally starting to make sense why Shakor had sent me. Only a Capsuleer could pull this off, and even then, only a Capsuleer with experiences akin to my own. On the other hand, there are five fingers. I had an idea.

“Nate,” I began, hesitation clear in my voice. “I need your help.”

“You? Asking me for help?” Nathan Carver laughed. “The immortal Roc Wieler, Scourge of the Amarr, Hero of the Minmatar Republic, asking a lowly Caldari for assistance? Hey, look out the station window; I think I see a pig flying.”

I let him get it out of his system, knowing I deserved to be berated. I had always been a cocky pilot. I carried myself with a certain arrogance that either attracted or repelled people. But you know what? It worked. As I often said, the legend of a man is always more effective than the abilities of a man. I had built my career on it, though I was fortunate in that I could back up what I said most of the time.

“Yeah, alright.” Nathan said after a few more minutes of condescending sarcasm. “What do you need?”

“Is there somewhere safe we can meet? I really don’t trust open comms.” I said, my suspicious instincts kicking in. Trust nobody. It was one of the first rules of survival, and given the fleeting nature of my so called “friends” earlier, I had decided to let my instincts take over. 

“Yeah, sure. Meet me planetside. I got a safehouse there we can meet at. Sending you the coordinates now.” With that, Nathan Carver signed off.

I booked passage on a planetary shuttle, being careful to hide my implants. I just wanted to blend in. I had even stopped and bought a wig from a nearby hair shop, and kept my sunglasses in the inner pocket of my jacket. I sported a long, blonde mullet; I didn’t even think I would recognize myself honestly.

After arriving planetside, I began to trek by foot, following Nate’s directions. 

I was in the midst of crossing a highway overpass when I felt a sharp pang in the back of my head, then a holler. The shout was from two young punks driving by in their vehicle. I looked to the ground, picking up the small monetary coin the passenger had thrown at me, hitting me in the back of the head. It had stung, and worse, it was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.

I watched their vehicle come to a stop at a set of traffic lights fifty feet in front of me and began to sprint after them. Fate was with me that day, some would say, as I reached their vehicle, the occupants unaware. The damn fool teenaged passenger still had his window open.

I put my left hand forcefully down on the window edging, and snarled. As the youth turned in shock to see me there in all my mulleted glory, I tightened my right fist and drove it into his face; once, twice, three times.

As I continued to pommel the youth, they both panicked, not knowing what to do. The passenger clumsily tried to fend me off to no avail, while the driver tried unsuccessfully to close the window. 

My mind reeled to thoughts of Master Cho, to Veshta Yoshita, to Mandi Kai, to Sard Caid. That was odd. I could understand the first few, as I had many unresolved anger issues surrounding them, but Sard?

Then it flashed into my mind. Sard had called me an old man. Sard had mocked me, boasting of how he would take my corpse. Yes, for all I liked Sard and enjoyed his company, he was a prick at times. Sometimes I needed that. Right now I used it as fuel for my anger.

I kept walloping the punk until finally the traffic signal indicated they could go, and go they did. 

I shook my hand, repeatedly flexing and extending my fingers, knowing my knuckles would swell, but feeling deeply satisfied by the encounter. Perhaps next time they would think twice before engaging in such a stupidly juvenile stunt. Probably not. That was the trouble with idiots; they never learned. You just can’t fix stupid.

I double checked Nate’s directions, adjusted my wig, and continued on.

Welcome to the sixth installment of the EVE Blog Banter, the monthly EVE Online blogging extravaganza created by CrazyKinux. The EVE Blog Banter involves an enthusiastic group of gaming bloggers, a common topic within the realm of EVE Online, and a week to post articles pertaining to the said topic. The resulting articles can either be short or quite extensive, either funny or dead serious, but are always a great fun to read! Any questions about the EVE Blog Banter should be directed here . Check out other EVE Blog Banter

This month’s topic comes to us from Quintrala of Speed Fairy . She suggests to “write a short fiction story about the dissolution of the BoB alliance. It could be from BoB’s point of view, the Goons’, by neutrals in 0.0, civilians in Empire, NPCs or even rats. Write about before, during or after the coup; give us stories of market, war, people or love. In-character or roleplay. We want to know what happened, from those fictional characters that, in your mind, were part of it.“

—

“You never used to smoke.” he said to me, as I lit up a cigar. I offered him one but he declined, waving me away with a disgusted gesture. 

“I never used to do a lot of things.” I replied, sucking back on the deliciously flavoured smoke that swirled inside my mouth. It was good to see my friend, it had been decades since last we had enjoyed each other’s company. We had both gained a little bit of weight as we aged, and I no longer needed to shave my head, it stayed smooth of its own accord. His hair has turned silver since last time. Still, neither of us looked that bad for our years; if anything I felt we looked more chiselled and dignified.

“Yeah, it’s amazing how some things change, some things don’t.” he said, swirling some fine cognac around in its snifter. He always had appreciated the finer consumables in life, while I had always been a beer drinker. 

We both sat there, lost in melancholic thought for a few minutes, content to simply sit in each other’s company. My own memories seemed like something out of an old fiction holo, so long ago that they teetered on the edge of being forgotten. I’m sure my companion’s memories were much the same.

“Hey, do you remember that time you decided to try to manipulate the pirates of Evati to fight the second great war for you?” he said, pulling me out of my revelry.

I took another deep drag of my cigar before answering with a smile. “Yeah, some good times. Back then we knew who the enemy was; made things simpler.” Everything had been black and white. If you were an Amarr, I killed you. If you were Caldari, I ransomed you back to the State for profit. It wasn’t until years after the war had finished that the lines between friend and foe really blurred, the political arena becoming the biggest cesspool of immorality in all the Empires. Few of us still fought the good fight during those historical years.

“How’s Mynxee?” he asked, his eyebrow raised. 

“Haven’t seen Mynxee in nearly ten years.” I said sadly. I hadn’t thought of her in ages, and wondered how she was doing, if she was even still alive. We had a romance that lasted longer than anyone could’ve guessed, and cultivated a remarkable friendship from it, given the extreme differences in our lifestyles. It had caused us both some grief every now and then, the Colonel and the Pirate, but I wouldn’t have changed a single moment we shared.

Again, the silence stretched between us. There was no awkwardness, merely contented reflection. It was I that broke the quietness this time.

“You remember when Band of Brothers fell?” I chuckled to myself a little, my friend doing the same. “It’s all they talked about for months. Goonswarm dismembers Band of Brothers. KenZoku reforms from the ashes. It was on every bleeding newsvid in the galaxy.” I snorted.

“Yeah,” he began. “Millions of beings involved in a crippling war that was dragging Empire economies to a record low, and the media focuses on the dealings of nullsec space. I guess it was more flavourful watching the mighty fall than the same old, same old of unemployed workers standing in food lines trying to get scraps for their families.”

It had been a difficult time. The war was draining every Empire’s resources at an alarming rate, and back then there was no end in sight. 

“They just didn’t get it.” I said flatly, sucking back again on my cigar. “All they did was add to the mythology of BoB. Even negative publicity is still publicity. I mean, we were there. GoonSwarm wasn’t able to maintain control of any BoB systems, and ended up nearly destroying itself defending against Red Alliance and every other hungry corporation that wanted to stake a claim in what was Band of Brother’s sovereignty. I think the media moguls did more damage than good in their constant fixation on the topic. Corps rise and fall all the time, it’s just the nature of the beast. Yeah, so this was the two biggest megacorporations of the time duking it out. So what? The fallout lasted for years from that debacle, and it didn’t need to. Everyone should’ve just gotten on with their lives. Things would’ve been a helluva lot better for the public as a whole.” 

I cut myself short, knowing I was starting to rant, hearing the anger slip into my banter. I became empassioned when speaking on things I held an opinion on, and really didn’t feel like getting into a heated debate with an old friend. We sat there staring at each other, this time the awkwardness between us evident, or at least that was how I perceived it.

“Still a hothead I see.” he laughed, and I joined him, ordering another round of drinks for us. I put my cigar out, and smiled at my friend.

“You know, Nate, I’m glad you set this up.” I said.

Nathan Carver nodded. Nothing else needed to be said on the matter.

“I followed your political career for years you know, right up until your last campaign.” Nate said, turning the subject to another topic.

“Oh yeah?” I asked curiously.

From there, we spent the next several hours reminiscing on our glory days, each of us coaxing forgotten memories to rise in the other, sharing laughter and drinks as only old friends could.

—

Participants:

Speed Fairy, The Hand of BoB
CrazyKinux’s Musing, No where to go…
A Mule in EVE, Rolling to the Warzone
The Ralpha Dogs, Two Tales of Glory and Honor
One Man and his Spaceship, Times they are changing
OZ’s House of the Evil Dead, Every betrayal contains a perfect moment, a coin stamped heads or tails with salvation on the other side
The Wandering Druid of Tranquility, Who the Hell are They?….
I am Keith Nielson, He Gave Up the Stars
• Life in Low Sec, Six Degrees of Seperation
• A Merry life and a Short One, Die Bard
• Roc’s Ramblings, Mythology
• Dense Veldspar, EVE Blog Banter #6
• Letrange’s EVE Blog, A toast to the disolution of BoB
• Fumbling in Space, Scarnan Vs The Fleeing Bankrupt Hordes
• More coming soon…

I’d like to say I was out all night drinking. I’d like to say I was up all night partying or doing something else equally fun to justify how I feel this morning. Truth is, none of those things occured. 

I’m dizzy. I’m nauseous. I want to puke. Even writing this entry makes me want to pass out.

I hate getting older.

I really don’t like interrupting a good story, and hopefully you have found my stories to be good, ha. Anywho, I’m sure every faithful EVE player knows by now that FANFEST 2009 has been announced.

What wasn’t announced is that PyjamaSam and Roc Wieler will be there. The ladies below obviously had this picture taken when they saw me coming; they look incredibly happy.

So, if you want to meet PyjamaSam and I, maybe have a few drinks (though Sam is a wuss and doesn’t really drink), maybe engage in some backyard wrestling, or just enjoy some general cavorting, get your tickets now.

We’ll see you there.

And PS. Check out the new picture of Mynxee over in my Flickr gallery to the right –>

After a brief chat with Sister Alitura, I was on my way to Gallente space. The Sisters of Eve had influence in all of New Eden’s empires, and while they continued to work on the mystery of the strange datacore I had acquired earlier, there was a request for assistance from Delphine Xarasier, a Federation ally to the Sisters. The Gallente were also an ally to the Republic, so it was with great zeal that I travelled towards Harerget system, looking forward to the chance to nurture and strengthen that amicable bond.

It turned out Delphine was having drone issues. Did I ever mention how much I hated drones? They were untrustworthy machines that had a tendency of turning on you, or completely ignoring you, when needed most. As thankful as I was for the many technologies we enjoyed in our lives as capsuleers, drones were a sore spot with me. Her drones were going rogue without reason, and she wanted me to find out why. Did I really look like a specialist in this sort of thing? I held my tongue, and did what was required, blasting apart a few rogue drones and retrieving the parts for her team to analyze.

In the meantime, my aid was needed elsewhere.

“A recently established colony still depends on Federation support for items they can’t produce yet. Their last shipment of medical supplies was lost en route, and we think it may be due to rogue drone action. Regardless, this batch of supplies needs to get through. Lives are depending on it.” Delphine said to me through a private comm.

The antibiotics had been placed aboard my ship, and I was ready to head out. 

I reached the colonial supply depot without incident a few hours later, for which I was thankful for. I was content having a simple mission for a change, something I wouldn’t fail at abysmally. I contacted Delphine when the cargo handlers had finished removing their medical supplies from my ship.

“I told you I’d help if you helped me. Well, the Serpentis Corporation has just kidnapped one of CreoDron’s top minds, Dr. Aspasia Castille. She was analyzing those drone parts that you recovered earlier. The information she has is critical to figuring out what’s going wrong with the drones, but the Serpentis aren’t going to let her go without a fight. They’re planning to take her to their installation at Harerget. I want you to get there first. Destroy their base and the ships guarding it before the transport ship arrives.”

I smiled to myself, switching my ammo to the appropriate type for maximum damage against the Serpentis. My Rifter frigate, the Ripsack, was eager to educate some pirates.

I warped in right on top of them, and set my 200mm vulcan autocannons ablaze. Hulls were shredded as I continued to weave amongst the surprised Serpentis frigates. It took them far too long to field their bigger ships, a few cruisers and a battle cruiser. I made short work of the cruisers, then focused my attention on the largest and final ship, continually bombarding their base with missles.

While engaged, Aura warned me of an incoming warp signature. One hundred kilometers off my stern, a Serpentis transport materialized, then was quickly diverted to a secondary rendezvous point elsewhere. I broke off from the battle cruiser, overheating my Gisti afterburner in pursuit of the transport, trying to get within range to use my Republic Fleet warp scrambler. I was too late. The transport easily entered warp over forty kilometers from me. I was infuriated with yet another failure and took my anger out on the battle cruiser, eventually blowing it to pieces. Still, my anger was not quelled. I destroyed the entire Serpentis outpost before I finally calmed enough to make my report.

“It’s a shame you weren’t able to disable the transport ship, but we’re glad you destroyed the Serpentis research station. Though we were able to intercept the transport, both ships were lost in the course of the ensuing battle. However, we believe a datacore containing Dr. Castille’s notes may still exist.

Your task is to retrieve that datacore, Roc Wieler.

Be warned, all indications are that the ship was contracted by the Guardian Angels as part of their protection agreement with the Serpentis Corporation. I’m sure they’ll send a ship to scan the wreckage and see what can be salvaged as well. They will be looking for some way to recoup part of their loss.” Delphine seemed slightly sad, and I could empathize. I wished she had given me the intercept coordinates, and had let me known what other assets were available to me on these missions. I could’ve easily broken off from my engagment and secured the transport elsewhere, without loss of life to any of her people. It seemed things were simply moving too fast for me to keep up. I was slowly realizing that the universe didn’t revolve around me after all, and that I was just one man trying to make whatever small difference he could, and wasn’t really sure that in the long run it even mattered.

Her intel had been spot on. Dozens of Guardian Angels were on the scene when I arrived. None left. Aura managed to scan down the item Delphine had hoped existed, Dr. Castille’s datacore.

I returned it to Delphine, and requested some time to make repairs to my frigate. She was more than happy to provide me with a work crew, as it would take her team a few hours to analyze the datacore anyway. I spent that time overseeing her mechanics, correcting small mistakes they were making on my Minmatar ship, rolling up my sleeves and pitching in where needed, until the repairs were complete. 

My comm beeped. Delphine had news.

“The datacore you recovered has proved interesting. Before her kidnapping, Dr. Castille found several oddities in the drone components. Honestly, it’s created more questions than answers for CreoDron staff. As a sign of good faith, I’m going to share some information with you. Our drones are being corrupted by some other kind of drone. I need you to take some information to a friend of mine in Caldari space.  They’ve also been suffering from drone problems recently, and this data may help him and his people. I need you to keep this quiet. Our friendship isn’t exactly something we’re broadcasting, not with both of our empires at each other’s throats.” Delphine hesitated, unsure as to whether she should continue. 

My face was completely blank, revealing neither my understanding of her situation, nor the hidden disgust and rage I felt at her audacity. I could care less about drone problems. And the Caldari? They could rot in hell. They had already cost me a fine ship on this expedition; let them sort out their own damn problems. Helping them was something I simply would not do.

Delphine took a deep breath and pushed on. “If you agree, I’ll make sure the information is securely hidden onboard your ship. You’ll never even know it’s there, all you have to do is go and talk to Immuri Asaka, and he’ll take care of the rest.”

My mind swirled at what she was asking. Surely Shakor couldn’t have meant for me to assist our enemy for the good of the Sisters? This was becoming madness and I wanted no part of it. I sighed, conflicted, finally coming to the only decision that gave me clarity. Duty was duty, and this was mine to fulfill. I could hate the Caldari all I wanted. I could hate this war. I could hate this entire game Sister Alitura was playing. And yet, I would see it through. I was tenacious and stubborn. I refused to be bested in anything I put my hands to.

Delphine relaxed visibly when I agreed to her request. I wished her well, letting her know should she ever require any further assistance from me, I would be honoured to aid an ally of the Republic. She returned the gesture by letting me know she would personally put in a letter to Prime Minister Shakor speaking of my good deeds on behalf of the Republic.

Waiting impatiently for her technicians to finish secreting her data aboard my ship, I laid in a course for Hatakani, deep in Caldari high sec.

I had a sinking feeling that things were about to get even more interesting for me. I had no idea at the time how right I was.