I sat in silence, alone, feeling the emptiness of space push in around my Rifter, the Ripsack. There were times when I had found the solitude peaceful, an escape from the pressures of my position in life; now was not one of those times.

I had stripped the ship of every weapon, every necessary component for combat; I was tired of the Amarr profiting from my foolhardiness. All that remained was a single low tech afterburner and a specially tuned scanner that had been requisitioned to me from Sister Alitura’s Amarrian contact. 

I could feel I was close to finishing this journey, to unravelling the mysteries surrounding Mordu’s Legion and the rogue drone infestation. I just had to delicately work my way through Amarr highsec a little longer. 

I refreshed the built-in ship scanner, knowing the Amarr Navy would find me soon. It was only a matter of time before they pinpointed my location. I had remained stationary for the past three minutes. Remaining motionless was an invitation for certain death, but that day it was something I had hoped to use to my advantage.

“Aura, estimate minimal scan time at optimal resolution once again please.” I said, never taking my eyes from my instruments or from the surrounding blackness space.

“28.4 seconds.” Aura replied quickly and without hesitation.

There it was. That was the time I had to get in, scan for this special something the Amarr agent needed, and get out. A Rifter couldn’t tank what I had consistently encountered thus far. The Amarr Navy tended to send smart squads: an interceptor to web you, two cruisers to damage you, and a battleship to destroy you should you try to get away; it was a lethal combination.

There, warp signatures. They had found me.

I had already aligned the ship to my destination before laying myself out as bait, but still I didn’t move. Aura blared warnings of target lock against me, but I waited. 

The Crusader sped towards me, snaring me quickly in its web. Still I didn’t move. Two Mallers pushed their engines forward, edging towards firing range. 

NOW! I thought to myself, mentally asserting the command to warp. Aura responded swiftly, and my small frigate accelerated into warp, leaving the faction patrol far behind.

I knew I would be easy to follow. My hope was that more squads weren’t available and I would only have to contend with the one, already calculating how long it would take me to turn and scan down a fleeing enemy were I the hunter and not the prey. I estimated it might take me six seconds. Another ten or so seconds in warp to follow, that left … a sixteen second differential. Sixteen seconds of me desperately scanning for who knew what while the Amarr Navy pounded on my ship. And that was assuming that some random enemy capsuleer hadn’t come across my ship’s signature yet.

I entered real space less than fifty meters from my target and immediately cycled the scanner, unconsciously biting my lip, willing things to move faster.

I began mentally counting down the clock of my own doom. There I was, in a stripped down frigate, in hostile Amarr space, scanning. The absurdity of it all makes me laugh heartily now; what an idealistic fool I was back then. 

My mind ticked off what should be zero seconds, and I braced for the re-appearance of the faction squad. It didn’t happen. Each passing moment stretched infinitely, each interval of time leaving my mind reeling, preparing for a fight or flight response. Adrenaline coursed through my veins; fear mixing with it to create a cocktail I hoped I wouldn’t need to partake of.

Four seconds left on the scan. For a moment, I thought I was actually going to pull it off. I naively believed the universe had recognized me for who I was and shared its benevolent grace with me. 

“Roc Wieler, you are a proven enemy to the Amarr people. This will be your last voyage into our territory.” The message appeared across my HUD, and I knew from previous experience, across the screens of every ship within 2 AU. The faction squad exited warp, less than fifty kilometers off my starboard bow.

The Crusader raced towards me. The scanner finished, pinging a result.

I flared my engines to life, trying to gain as much transversal velocity as possible while Aura analyzed the data and triangulated a waypoint for me. 

The cruisers were out of range, but the interceptor snared me in its web once again. Without weapons on my ship, I couldn’t even turn my attention to it, couldn’t even try to break free from its grasp.

Aura warned the Abaddon battleship was cycling up its weapons. I urged her to warp us to the waypoint as the battleship’s glowed hot.

My ship aligned as quickly as it could, and the Ripsack entered warp just as the blast from the battleship shook me violently. Fire Control systems, hull breach warnings, structural integrity notifications, life support failure, and numerous other alerts were a cacophony of noise in my brain. The initial damage had nearly destroyed the frigate, but she had held on. I smirked to myself; I knew many non Matari whom had  always laughed at the flimsy appearance of our ships, but they certainly were sturdy when it mattered.

With the inertial stabilizers offline, exiting warp pushed me hard against the restraints of my pod. My insides made a valiant attempt to join my outsides.

Aura locked onto a small container, and I edged the ship towards it, fire and smoke trailing behind me as the Ripsack hemorraghed oxygen, many sections of the frigate quickly depressurizing regardless of the emergency bulkheads sealed in place.

I scooped up the container into my hold, thankful at least some part of my vessel was still in one piece, and aligned for the nearest non-hostile station, one I had made arrangements with before this entire fiasco had began.

My crippled ship slowly turned, straining to enter warp just as the faction squad reverted to normal space and began their chase anew.

But it was too late for them; I had already entered warp, and would soon be docking anonymously to safe haven.

—

After a quick steam rinse and a change of clothes, I found myself enjoying a cold brew in the quarters of my benefactor. I had paid him well for his assistance, and Sister Alitura’s Amarrian associates were already busy analyzing the contents of the container I had brought back. I didn’t know what was in it; I didn’t care to.

I considered myself a very luck man. Things had finally gone right for a change. I suppose, in the grand scheme of things, it was inevitable that I would have at least one good day.

—

“Thank you for the information. Your loyalty to the Empire has been rewarded.” The Admiral said, closing the comm. A dock worker of a nearby private corporation station had reported a tattered Rifter class frigate in their station. The Admiral had known it would pay off handsomely to have word out amongst the lower class citizens. 

This enemy pilot, this Roc Wieler, would die before leaving Amarr space, the Admiral thought to himself. It was inevitable.