It’s a quiet day here; a peaceful day. The single star of this system shines brightly. It is a system that seems Devoid of activity (see what I did there?*).

We are hiding here, salvaging what we can to make much needed repairs. A recent encounter with a wandering Amarr scout fleet has left us in less than optimal condition. Most systems have been powered off. Life support has been minimized, and many decks sealed.

That’s part of the fun of recon. You’re on your own. It’s a blessing and a curse. Being comm silent brings with it a certain freedom, a certain clarity of your situation. It also reminds you that no help is coming. You are off the charts, off the record. It’s all a propaganda spin. Should we succeed, the media back home will play it up as another successful campaign by our government in the continuing war against the Amarr. Should we fail, well I doubt we’ll get any media coverage at all.

The interesting part of all this is that we’re not even here for the Amarr. We’re here to meet a longtime colleague who left the Republic militia, and has hired his fleet out to the Gallente Federation. For me, it’s a win/win.

The Caldari/Gallente conflict seems to have not spilled over into our space, but it’s only a matter of time. The Minmatar and Gallente have had a long history together. I hope they prevail. Means I can go home sooner. I miss home.

Aura sends me a warning. Another ship has entered this system. I focus my thoughts on the present. It’s more than likely our contact, but in my experience, assumptions only result in needless corpses.

We had agreed to meet near the first planet, at an abandoned pirate facility on an asteroid in a nearby belt. An interesting gas cloud lingers near the asteroid and was probably mined by the previous occupants. Were they Blood Raider? Angel Cartel? Does it really matter? I suppose not.

My HUD overview flashes the incoming ship. It’s my contact, yet I don’t feel a sense of relief. I am one of those pilots who relies on more than his instruments. I rely on that mysterious and elusive “gut feeling”. Those who don’t prescribe to that belief, shrug it off as superstition. Those who follow their guts simply nod knowingly. It has saved me before. I trust my gut completely.

We exchange ship identifications and hail each other. It’s a quick cordial exchange. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, even amidst the viscous liquid that engulfs me within my pod. The sensors show nothing amiss. Still.

The incoming ship lazes it way towards us, currently at about 20km straight ahead.

Without warning, the audible “lock warning” siren sounds. We’re being targetted. I urge my ship instinctively into evasive maneuvers. It doesn’t respond. I remember most systems are powered down. My HUD displays that we’re scrambled and webbed. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

That is when the cyno field appears. That is when I know we’re in serious trouble.

* Asghed lies within the Jayai constellation, Devoid Region – editor