When the war first began, pilots were eager and we felt ourselves more than able. I remember the first fleet I led into Caldari space; it seemed so long ago. Over one hundred proud Minmatar pilots, along with thousands of crew members, travelled through dozens of systems, on our way to show the State the folly of siding with our enemy.

We made a stop at each system in Old Man Star that long day. You would think the Caldari would’ve reacted aggressively with such a massive display of force in the heart of their territories, and they did react, though not in the way any of us, full of bloodlust, had hoped for. The Caldari hid in stations, remaining docked up, warning each other about the mighty invasion force that had befallen them. They were unprepared. They were inferior. I hadn’t gone back since.

Now, as my Firetail was webbed and scrammed, I realized that war had separated the wheat from the chaff. Those that had survived had grown strong; those that hadn’t grown strong hadn’t survived. I gave the order to jettison the life pods, not wanting to have a single death on my conscience, nor as a card for that cursed Sister Alitura to use against my efforts on her behalf.

The crew escaped, our enemy not even targetting the pods speeding away from my ship. Their entire focus was on me. My brow furrowed, my anger focused, and I gave them the only fight I knew how; I gave them everything I had. Two frigates and an interceptor was my final tally before the hot flash of light engulfed me. As I mentioned earlier, the strong survive. I kept my senses about me and warped away in my pod, denying them the victory of my death, denying them the destruction of the implants in my brain. It was foolish, I know, having hundreds of millions of ISK wired into my head in hostile territory. It was something I would’ve reprimanded any of my pilots for doing, yet here I was, breaking my own rules.

I docked up, found an overpriced Rifter, and fitted it up with a passive shield tank. I hired a local merc to pick up my crew, then paid a civilian charter to see them back to Dal. I wasn’t going to risk anyone’s life in this but my own. Reluctantly, they had complied. It was hard to get a Matari marine to desert his commanding officer. I waited out the gate camp, then made my way unopposed through space, hoping the trail hadn’t gone cold, hoping I could still track down my lead in Manarq.

The emission trails were almost invisible, and were a challenge to isolate from all the other traffic that has passed through this system in the last few hours, but I managed to make my way after the ship. I warped to where Aura estimated the craft should’ve been given standard velocities and time passed; I arrived at nothingness.

I made several dozen micro jumps, backtracking my path, until I arrived at a scene of destruction. Wreckage littered the area, and Aura confirmed it had the markings of a recent ambush. I had arrived too late.

I commed Tevis Jak, the Concord agent Sister Alitura had me dealing with on this leg of my journey, and informed him of my failure, patching him into the live feed of my camera drone. Inwardly, I felt this second failure hard. In my two outings for the Sisters of Eve, I had arrived too late to be of any use. I thought about Shakor and how my deficiencies here might reflect on both my personal record, and on our overall standing with the Sisters. Shakor’s documents had stated how politically imperative success was in this venture, and I had experienced the polar opposite of success thus far.

“My sensors are picking up a strange bit of tech in that can. I’ve marked it on your HUD. Bring it to me.” Tevis said. I maneuvered the Rifter ably to the can, extending a robotic arm to tear open the canister and bring its contents into the small cargo bay of the frigate. I took a quick look through the cargo cam, observing the item.

Engaging my warp drive, I hurried back to Tar System, and Tevis Jak, the anomolous piece of tech secured. What had transpired here remained a mystery to me. Had I lost my only lead? Would this odd item provide a new clue for me to follow? Or would it all end here, the Sisters disappointed, an opportunity with them lost? Worrying about it now wasn’t going to change the outcome.

After returning my cargo to Tevis, I opened an encrypted comm directly with Maleatu Shakor. He wasn’t pleased with the information I delivered, and told me to get things back on track no matter what the cost. He disconnected abruptly, reminiscient of Sister Alitura, leaving me with a sinking feeling in my stomach about the whole matter. I felt like a pawn being used in a game I didn’t understand, and suspected if I were privy to the machinations of this puzzle, would disapprove wholeheartedly.

My comm beeped. It was Tevis Jak.

“Ok, I found your first guy, but it looks like he’s already shipped out again. What a fighter, huh? He’s down in the crew manifest as ‘Red’, and his convoy has him listed under the same handle, so there you go.” Tevis said.

I manually prepped my ship, Aura cycling all systems to green.

Jak continued. “I’m giving you coordinates to intercept the convoy now. You should be able to catch them before they get too far. I’m worried that they don’t have enough security to deal with the number of rats – sorry, pirates – where they’re headed. They might need your help.”

I hastened across the stars towards the intercept point, the entire time wondering what the point of all of this was once again. Could they not provide their own security wing? And if they were truly that inept why did Shakor want to win their favour so badly? My head hurt. I was always better off simply doing what I was told, being a good soldier. Do something with all you have or do nothing at all. That was one of my many rules.

I decelerated to normal space, and realized that I was once again too late. The convoy lay in tatters around me.  Aura scanned the system for signs of the pirates that committed this atrocity. The trail was cold. I scanned the destroyed ships for signs of life. There was none. I matched up corpses against the crew manifest I had been provided. It was a grim duty I performed, but one that would be appreciated by the families whom had lost their loved ones this day. It was near the end of the scanning that I came across the corpse of “Red”. He was just one more victim of a conspiracy I could not fathom.

I opened a comm with Tevis, to let him know the latest in what was becoming a long series of failures.

“Dead is he?” Tevis began. “Figures. I’ll keep the investigation open but unless something changes, there’s little Concord can do.”

What the hell did he mean by that? Investigation? Figures? I felt myself growing more and more lost in this convulted tapestry that had been woven.

With nothing left for me to do at the scene, I headed back to meet up with Tevis Jak. About three systems out, I received a transmission from him.

“Just got a message from Sister Alitura.” Tevis said. “I sent her that weird datacore you found at the previous site. She says they weren’t able to decipher it. Pity.”

It was quickly becoming clear to my limited intellect that something untowards was going on here. The Sisters of Eve working with Concord, seemingly random people linked only from a mysterious incident aboard the Damsel turning up dead, encrypted datacores not willing to give up their secrets. To top it all off, Shakor himself had sent me here in the first place. I hated not being in the know. I became more easily agitated when I didn’t know the bigger picture. Needless to say, my ire was growing.

Tevis was still talking. “Still, she’s very interested in consulting with you. So go do what she wishes. The Sisters are good people.”

As I laid in my course for Arnon, I couldn’t help but think to myself, That remains to be seen.

Only three more jumps, I thought to myself as I hurtled through space in my Firetail. Sabin had done great work; the Firetail was behaving like I remembered, smooth, effortless and deadly. 

Two more jumps.

General Fist had sat me down and slid the dossier across the highly polished table towards me. I broke the seal on the envelope, the personal wax stamp of Prime Minister Shakor. Whatever the contents of this package were, it was obviously backed by significant political power.

I read over the documents, acknowledging my acceptance of the orders to Fist, whom undoubtedly was privy to the information already. I returned the documents into the dossier, throwing it into a nearby fireplace. The General and I stood, saluted each other and went our separate ways, not another word being spoken between us that day.

One more jump.

I sat down with Cytral and requested some leave time from my duties at Freeform Industries. I had been doing that a lot lately, and while Cytral had always been patient with me and supportive of my military activities, he did have to think of his company first. “Just make sure you’re back for the grand opening of the Academy, ok?” He finally said with a smirk on his face. Cytral’s latest idea was a training academy for new capsuleers, to teach them the fundamentals of survival in New Eden. To me, it sounded like EVE University, but who was I to shatter someone’s dream? I had even agreed to be the Warfare Training Officer in Cytral’s new venture. I guess it would indeed look bad if I couldn’t be there for the opening ceremonies.

“Will do, Cy. Thanks.” I said.

SISTERS OF EVE BUREAU
ARNON SYSTEM

 I had arrived. After being granted docking permission, I let the tow barge berth my ship, showered off, then quickly changed into my Colonel’s uniform. It was my first experience dealing with the Sisters of EVE and I wanted to make a good impression.

I looked at my chrono and quickened my pace; Sister Alitura was not one to be kept waiting I had been told. I was ushered into a cavernous room with a luxurious red carpet, dimly lit from hidden wall sconces. It was simply yet richly furnished. Sister Alitura greeted me, or at least I assumed it was her, being the sole occupant of the room. Her brown hair was tied tight to her head in a bun. She wore a simple dark red gown, almost matching the colour of the plush carpeting. A single horn-like implant dominated the majority of her forehead, and I forced myself not to stare at it as I sat down with her to begin our conversation.

“I ask for help and they send me a capsuleer.” She began, annoyance heavy in her voice.

“You are a capsuleer aren’t you? An immortal pilot who subverts the rules of life and death, who shapes the fate of empires? You’ll have to excuse my skepticism.” Disdain and sarcasm were evident in her tone.

I opened my mouth to speak but she continued on without missing a beat.

“I work with a humanitarian organization, the Sisters of EVE.” She paused here, evaluating me with her eyes before continuing. “I’ve seen your kind hasten the deaths of millions every day.” 

I quickly opened my mouth to interject, to deny and defend myself against her. I was not the type of man who took the deaths of any lightly, and would not take her outright assault on my character.

Once again, she blazed forward, her words silencing me before I had made a sound.

“You expect me to believe you’re different? To prove yourself, your actions will have to do the talking. We’ve just received a distress call from a ship called the Damsel, and you just happened to have arrived at the most fortuitous time. Get out there and save some lives. Prove to me your not just another murderous liar with a god complex. With all the power at your disposal, you certainly could be a force for good. And one thing is certain; Good is in dire need of allies these days.”

She had laid it on the table bluntly, and I accepted her views, and her challenge, without hesitation. For the most part, I agreed with her opinion of capsuleers. I was sickened often by the disregard they showed for the lives they spent so easily. Perhaps in these Sisters I had found a philosophy that was in harmony with my own. I was eager to find out.

I saluted Sister Alitura, who did not return the salute but merely waved me away. Quickly changing back into my pod suit, my crew and I launched into space towards the Damsel.

Sister Alitura’s intel had been accurate, and the wreck of the ship was easy to find. Life signs, on the other hand, were not. I scanned the entire sector; not a living thing to be found. My heart sank as I opened a comm link to her, my first venture already feeling a failure.

“It seems Concord was faster to respond, but your backup was definitely appreciated. There were a handful of survivors picked up. They’ve been taken to various care facilities in the area – wherever vacancies could be found.” Abruptly, as I was becoming accustomed to with her, she closed the signal, the screen requesting the data from my scan of the area. I complied, sending the data, though I really couldn’t see what use it would be. With nothing left to do out there, I headed back to the Sisters of EVE Bureau to dock.

I was nearly 4 AU away when Sister Alitura commed me unexpectedly.

“We got some interesting information out of your trip. It seems no one fired on the Damsel. Something must’ve happened inside the ship. We’d like you to track those survivors down, see if you can get any information about the ship’s path, pilot or cargo. We need to know what caused this disaster.

Concord is the first logical step. I’ve gotten in touch with agent Tevis Jak, who may have information for you. His location is being updated to your NeoCom: he’s currently acting as an ORE agent. Go see if you can find a piece of this puzzle.”

With that, Alitura disconnected. I was really becoming irritated with her attitude. My orders had been to assist the Sisters of EVE in whatever way they needed, and to represent the Minmatar in the best possible light. Being treated like a slave surely didn’t count. It had dawned on me that Alitura and I, sorry, Sister Alitura and I hadn’t even exchanged a single word at that point; it had all been her ordering, me complying wordlessly. Yeah, that didn’t sit well with me at all.

I went to the location in my NeoCom, one system away, and quickly found the ORE ship Tevis Jak was flying. It was easy for me to match speeds with him, and send him a private comm with my Sisters of EVE encryption credentials.

“Ah, Sister Alitura said you’d be coming.” Tevis began in a very friendly voice. “You’re here about the Damsel, right?” he asked. I replied I was, and that any information he had on the ship would be useful to me: it’s recorded path, pilot, cargo, etc. 

“That ship’s registered to a pilot under the name of Marihem Dagan.” Tevis replied. I made note of the information.

It seemed Dagan was still nearby, only a couple of systems away. I thanked Jak for the information and quickly warped away in pursuit of my only lead.

As we began reverting to realspace, warning alarms began blaring across the ship. My crew and marines quickly scrambled, preparing for whatever dangers would come our way.

Aura quickly displayed the threat to me; a hostile Caldari Navy gate camp. The Tribal Liberation Force was allied with the Gallente militia, and therefore an enemy to Caldari State. 

I throttled forward knowing there was no going back. I would have to push my way through. Anything less and I risked losing my quarry, and giving Sister Alitura the satisfaction of being right was something I was not prepared to do.

I went to the gym last night, had a good workout. On the way out, I came across an old friend, Idaena. I haven’t seen him in years. 

We went for a few drinks, which turned into a few more, so around 2AM I crashed at his place which was nearby. I didn’t think it would be an issue as I had the following day off.

6AM, I get a call from Cytral. He needed me to come into the office to fix up a few things. I asked if anyone else could do it. Of course, there’s never anyone else who can do it.

I hauled my ass out of my bed and went into the office. I was wearing my gym shirt from the day before as I had no change of clothes. My teeth felt fuzzy; my shirt stank. I think a good puke might’ve made things feel better, might’ve cleared the wool from my head.

I was really sick of this week. It’s all Mynxee’s fault somehow.

So tight. Can’t breathe. I try to force air into my lungs, but they won’t respond; there is no air to give them. I’m dizzy; it won’t subside. It feels like a cruiser is parked on my chest. My arms are numb and tingle. I can’t focus my eyes.

My pod spins out of control; my Rifter destroyed. Warning alarms blare, Aura screaming at me, stuck in the same vocal cycle by damage or necessity I do not know.

“Warning, pod hull seal comprimised. Cloning tether severed.” Her words lose meaning to me after so many countless loops.

The liquid of my pod is so cold, so starkly different from its usual warmth. There is a loud hissing from somewhere, though whether from me or the pod I do not know. 

I want to sleep. My body tries to comply. My mind rebels against the urge. I do not want to die.

Adrenaline pumps through me, but it’s too little too late. There is nothing in me left to give. I am blind and dumb to the events going on outside of my metallic womb, my metallic grave. I cannot speak. I cannot hear. I want to puke, but only dry heave. I pull the long life support tube out of my throat. Finally the vomit comes.

Aura yells at me some more. “Warning, life support disconnected. Incompatible transfer protocol.” She’s given up on me. Typical.

The hissing grows louder in my ear drums, threatening to rupture them. I think it was a Rupture that put me in this position in the first place.

I run my hands over the smooth interior of my capsule, finally feeling the escaping atmosphere beneath the palm of my hand. My other hand reaches the crack; they cannot cover it. 

I ache beyond reason. My mind will not focus. I push myself harder but I have no reserves.

I hear Mynxee’s voice, “What is about men that they feel the need to compete in everything? Seriously Roc, you push too hard. Sometimes you just need to listen to your body and stop. You’re not as young as you used to be. You’re not going to save the world by burning yourself out.”

She laughs. Mako laughs. Veshta laughs. Cho laughs. I laugh. Why am I laughing?

Tears escape my eyes. They burn, small displaced swirls of light swimming around my vision. My hecklers continue to mock me, though they are distorted as Aura is. 

I’m so tired. I just want to sleep. 

I’ve been here before. I will be here again? Same old, same old, Sard chastises. Cussbeard says hello and thanks. Sabin tells me that my Firetail should be ready in three more days. Sam and Elly make love early in the morning. Gigaer tells me to dig deeper, that I am capable of more. Cytral, Nuuzyx, Niko, sweet Freyla, Wordsworth, Fantastic, the rookie, FullMetal Basilisk, Doc, they all smile at me knowingly. I wish I knew what they did.

I want the pain to stop. I want the madness to end. I want to speak to Aura, but my voice is raw and impotent. 

Every part of me aches. I want to sleep. I want this to end. I want to go fishing with Ombey.

Chribba drifts by in the Veldnaught, waving at me from his window. Winterblink is playing poker with him. Manasi sat this hand out. 

I’m losing it. I don’t care.

I scream for my Diva, that nameless woman of such incredible beauty that everything I am desires her. I am covered in sweat but say I am ok. She says I am not and should rest. Women don’t understand the need I have to drive myself beyond my limits. How else will I grow?

They all shake their heads at me, silently disapproving, silently understanding, silently feeling sorry for my narrow and delusional point of view. 

I need saving. I need help. 

Please, help me.

“So how’s the war going?” Sard Caid said with a slightly veiled hint of sarcasm. I think he was actually interested to hear about it but didn’t want to genuinely appear to be. It was hard to tell; I didn’t know Sard that well yet. He had stayed around the constellation for the last few days and we finally made time to sit down and continue our intellectual debates. I had to admit he was an intensely fascinating person, and our dialogue reflected as much.

“It goes.” I replied. How do you really answer a question like that? Well, being the merciless killer I am the war is going extremely well. Both sides have been slaughtering innocents by the thousands and my conscience is completely ok with that. War was the most base of human acts. It was an inexcusable necessity. If we ever had lost sight of that I think the course of my life would’ve gone in a much different direction, but as I learned from Shakor many years later, The pain of leadership is something only the strongest of hearts can endure. I relied so much on that man during my venture into the political arena, but as I typically do, I’m getting ahead of myself in my story.

“And the ground front?” Sard continued. I wasn’t directly responsible for any of our ground forces, and Sard knew that, so I found the question curious. I had recently hired on an infantry trooper I had met not too long ago, a young and likeable fellow. He showed promise and I was pleased to have given him the opportunity. Aside from that there was no involvement from me in that branch of our military.

“Couldn’t really tell you, Sard; not my area of my expertise.” I lifted my glass to my lips, taking another satisfying mouthful of the beer Sard had recommended.

“You mean to tell me that the famous Colonel Roc Wieler, Scourge of the Amarr, has never ridden, even as a passenger, on one of those, what do you call those vehicles they drive?” He asked, his statement becoming a question.

“Jeeps?” I replied.

“No, bigger than a jeep.” Sard said. “You know, really big.”

“Armoured Personnel Carriers?” I ventured, beginning to become irritated. I had a passing knowledge of ground warfare, though as a pilot it hadn’t been the path I had chosen.

“No, no, they have the big gun on the front.” Sard continued.

“Mobile Artillery?” He was really getting on my nerves. I honestly didn’t see any relevance to this tangent, and was going to tell him as much shortly.

Sard sighed. “It’s on the tip of my tongue, just having a mental block. You know, those big armoured things with the treads.”

“Tanks?” I blurted out.

“You’re welcome.” Sard leaned back in his chair, smiling, content in having suckered me in.

“I’m gonna punch you now.” I said.