“Morning, General. What system you in?” I said to Sasawong as I undocked from the Republic Fleet station in Dal. 

“Amamake.” he responded, the single word spat like a profanity from his lips.

I urged the Ripsack, my Rifter class frigate towards the Amamake jumpgate. I still had over a billion isk worth of implants in my head foolishly, knowing eventually my luck would run out and I would get podded. I kept meaning to create a jump clone nearby for my little adventures, but always rationalized and justified the skill training time bonuses to myself. I could save seven days of my life in training time with these implants in; that made it worth my while. 

I urged the frigate forward once aligned, and sped towards the jumpgate to Amamake.

“Want some company?” I asked, knowing full well Sasawong would enjoy me as his wingmate. We hadn’t flown together in a long while, but he was one of the most efficient and enjoyable pilots I had ever flown with. 

“Negative. Gate to Amamake heavily camped.” he replied, and my heart sank. I was already enroute, warping to a zero distance from the gate; if I was lucky, I might be able to slip through.

I exited warp ready and able, thanks to the intel from the General. Immediately my overview identified and sorted the two dozen hostiles in front of me. I overheated my afterburner, and sped for the gate, thankful for the speed the frigate boasted.

I hadn’t been targetted; maybe I would get lucky. No sooner had the thought entered my head than Aura started blaring warnings of target lock; too many to count; far too many to deal with on my own in a frigate.

I activated my damage control systems, hoping the extra percentage boosts to my resists would be enough to cover the 800 meters to jump range.

I was quickly triple webbed, slowing me greatly, making that 800 meters seem light years away. My shields quickly fell, the 400mm rolled tungsten armour plates my last defence.

I targetted the nearest enemy but didn’t fire, knowing to do so would flag me as a hostile to the jump gate, insuring my demise.

As I watched the armour plates buckle and strain, finally falling apart at the seams, I realized I was doomed either way, and prepared to warp away in my pod. 

The Ripsack exploded, and I urged the pod forward into warp, except I never made it. Their pilots were performing admirably well, and they had a webber on standby whom quickly snagged my pod.

Seconds later I awoke in my clone vat.

I had nobody to blame but myself, as was usual. It was reckless and foolish to not scan in the direction I was flying, knowing what a cesspool Amamake typically was. It was foolish of me to fly at all with implants in my head when I was a war target to the Amarr.

The only thing I was thankful for was that I hadn’t taken my 120 million isk fit Firetail class faction frigate as I had originally been considering.

I pulled on a pair of pants from a nearby clothing closet I kept in the clone chamber, and wore a form fitting cut-off tee that bore the slogan “Made from 100% recycled awesome.” It seemed apropro to me when I purchased the shirt.

I checked my accounts, realizing with further self-loathing that I couldn’t even cover the cost of the lost implants currently. My expenditures had far exceeded my earnings of late. 

I contacted my hangar bay, and had them prep another one of my Rifters. 

As I headed towards my ship, I felt relieved in a perverse sort of way. There was an inherent freedom in being without implants; you had less to lose, and therefore risked more. And sometimes, the bigger the risk, the bigger the reward, providing that risk wasn’t completely without thought of course.

As I inserted myself into my new pod aboard the Rifter and undocked, I was actually somewhat giddy, having not been this excited by the hunt in months. 

Today was going to be a fun day. Payback is always a bitch.