Jedziah sat behind her desk, scanning over her datapad and the hardcopy sheets scattered around her desk one more time. As a Director of The Bastards Pirate Alliance, she wanted to be sure she had all the information she could on today’s subject, Colonel Roc Wieler. She had known he had been coming, in fact it was she whom had personally signed his “Bastards Pass” allowing him high standing with their Alliance. Basically, he wouldn’t be shot on sight. Mynxee had presented her initial argument of why it would be profitable to work with this militia officer, and Jedziah had let the promise of easy pickings blind her judgement. 

Now, as she went over the report, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to this man than met the eye. She had pulled the AI recording from Mynxee’s neural implant. She would’ve taken the data from the pod, or even from the Jaguar class assault frigate, but both had been destroyed. Mynxee’s debriefing report had stated she had  lured and opened fire on Roc Wieler when he arrived in Evati, testing him to see if he lived up to the hype, and he had reduced her to minimal structure, and quickly. It then states that they talked and laughed, and she got sloppy, being scanned down by three superior vessels for that engagement, which had easily reduced her and her ship to slag.

It wasn’t that Jedziah contested the report. It what wasn’t in the report that bothered her. Where had Roc Wieler been when Mynxee got attacked? He was conviently in warp on his way back to a local station. It just didn’t sit well with her. She wasn’t prone to believe in coincidences, good or bad. How was she to believe that this Colonel hadn’t setup one of her pilots? For all they knew, it was he that had given up Mynxee’s coordinates, allowing other pirates to quickly track and destroy her. Or those pirates may have been a non-descript militia escort. Jedziah wouldn’t put it past him. Sure, it wasn’t common for a militia man to conduct himself in such a way, but then again, here he was working with pirates in lowsec to begin with. 

There were too many unanswered questions. 

The chime to her office door sounded, and Jedziah ushered Mynxee in. Mynxee sat across from the desk, a look of eternal fire smoldering in her grey eyes, her posture straight, bordering on cocky, but proper and refined moreso than any other woman she knew. She respected Mynxee. That’s what made this all the more difficult.

“I’m considering grounding you.” Jedziah said.

“I’m sorry, mommy. I won’t do it again.” Mynxee replied without missing a beat, a mischevious smirk on her face.

“I’m serious, Mynx.” Jedziah continued. “I think you may have lost your objectivity recently. You’re like a teenaged girl with some crush. It’s not becoming of you.”

Mynxee’s expression turned from one of playful disrespect to one of outright indignation, the fire in her eyes only increasing. Even before Mynxee lashed out at her, Jedziah knew this conversation would be explosive. “Who are YOU to tell me I’ve lost objectivity, Jed? Where’s your head been at the last few weeks? Nobody else seems to know, and you don’t seem to want to share. So I tell you what, dear. You get your shit together then you can talk to me about mine.”

Mynxee stormed out of Jedziah’s office a dark and swirling storm cloud. Jedziah had thought it unlikely the conversation would go well. She was becoming discouraged about so many things recently. But what could she do really? The relationship they all shared was co-dependent, but in a healthy way. They all needed each other to survive and thrive. They were loosely akin to a family, working towards a common goal in this pocket of the universe. But was it really a common goal? She doubted that lately. Everyone seemed to have their own agenda at the front of their mind, often pushing everything else to the side, even corporate and alliance responsibilities. It was simply wearing her down. 

Mynxee was right, though she was a bit of a bitch about it. Jedziah had been distracted lately. There was a lot on her mind; a lot on her conscience. 

She leaned back in her chair, and stretched her arms behind her head. There were just so many things in her life that needed answers, and it seemed she was just always left with more questions.

Roc Wieler was just one more headache waiting to happen; a pain Jedziah didn’t want to be bothered with, but inevitably knew she would be.

OOC: Been sick the last few days, and finding it difficult to focus on writing, though I hope none of you have noticed. As such, brain is a little fuzzy right now, so writing something that’s been half-formed in my mind for a while.

—

I have many nightmares, about many things. It seems to be one of the many curses of being a pod pilot. The mind doesn’t forget the horrors of surviving multiple lifetimes. From torture, to sudden death, to lost love, to many other angsts, a capsuleer must learn to work through it all. Insanity is not as far fetched an idea as some would like to believe for the immortal life we lead. Some pod pilots I know don’t even question their insanity, which is generally the first indication that one is truly losing their touch with reality. I value my life; I enjoy my life; I fight for my life; life is the most precious gift anyone can enjoy.

—

I sat eagerly by the riverbank, fishing poles gathered in my small arms, anxiously awaiting Master Cho. We had gone fishing only a handful of times, and as I looked at the small rowboat tied to a post in front of me, my heart swelled with affection for my master. I enjoyed the peace and quiet. I enjoyed the personal time spent with such a powerful and busy man. I felt special that he found me worthy of his free time, as a man of his power and influence must not have a lot of free time to spare.

I had dug up the worms myself only this morning. There was something satisfying about working my hands into fresh, dark soil, unearthing the squirming worms within its fertile grasp. It felt good; it felt right. I was a part of the natural order, as surely as these worms were.

I looked down the riverbank, and saw Master Cho approaching. I waved emphatically with one arm, nearly losing hold of the precious fishing rods, but managed to keep them clasped against my chest, a fervent smile on my face as he drew closer. I didn’t always understand the man, but I was learning much from him; lessons I would cherish the rest of my life. His wisdom beggared description.

I untethered the small wooden rowboat once he was seated, and took the oars in hand, rowing us out to the center of this small and serene lake. It was still early in the morning, and the sun had only just begun to rise. It promised to be a hot day ahead. We never spoke much during our fishing trips, and when we did, it felt warm and friendly. He really cared about me, and was patient with me as I grew in understanding.

Our lines had sat in the water for a good fifteen minutes before I felt the first nibble. I quickly reeled my line in; a little too excitedly, as the fish that had tested the bait wasn’t on the end of my line. I replaced my worm, and tried again.

Master Cho managed to catch a couple of small fish, which he released back into the water, while I was left with nothing on my side of the boat. I decided to exercise patience this time, play with the fish, lure them into a false sense of safety, urging them to believe there was no danger presented from the meal within its reach. All they had to do was take a full bite, and they would know the joy of a satisfying meal. There!

I squealed slightly, feeling my line pull against me suddenly, strongly. I had to put my foot against the side of the boat, the sudden yanking on my arms threatening to pull the rod from my grip. I must’ve caught a monster! I pulled on the line, trying to bring in the excess line, while letting it out in small intervals, so as not to snap it, or to let the gigantic fish get away.

I managed to get the line to the side of the boat, but was drained. I could see the size of the fish beside the boat. It was bigger than I had dreamed, but I knew I would have trouble getting it in the boat myself. I also knew asking my master for help would be a failure, so I buckled down my grit, and heaved on the line. The boat rocked back and forth, as I fought to lift this massive fish out of its element. I had it out of the water, almost threatening to capsize us in the process, when the line snapped, and the fish disappeared back into the murky depths. The backlash sent me flying against Master Cho, and my foot kicked up, sending one of the oars into the water.

Master Cho steadied me, a frown upon his face, and I flushed with embarassment. I immediately scanned around to find the lost oar, which ordinarily floated, but this one had a heavy metal rung to secure it to the boat, and had apparently sank, as did my heart.

“Lean over the boat and see if you can get a view of where it may have sank to.” Master Cho said. I propped my arms on the side of our small boat, and peered over into the water.

Suddenly, I felt a vise like grip on my neck, and my head was plunged below the water’s surface. The air escaped my lungs in shock, and I struggled in vain against the iron grip of my master. My first thought was of outrage! It was only an oar! It was only a fish! Why was he getting so angry? I flailed around, my arms reaching back to try to free myself from his arm, to escape this watery grave. My lungs started filling with water.

He yanked me above the surface. I was about to yell my defiance at him, when I was plunged beneath the water again, barely able to collect half a lungful of air before being surrounded again by a watery tomb. I thrashed as mightily as my small frame would allow, but there was no escaping the finality of my master’s grip. Water slid into my lungs. I cursed him silently, screaming into the water, air bubbles rising to the surface. It was just a stupid oar!

I was pulled up once again. I turned, the dark fury in my eyes piercing daggers of death and hatred towards him. I still couldn’t breath, my lungs full of water. I sat there, coughing up fluid, trying to bring my emotions into words against him, but could not. Then, I was driven beneath the water again, by his same unrelenting grip.

There was nothing I could do stop it. There was no way I could overpower this man. I was going to die. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want it to end like this. What a stupid death it would be! I found new reserves of strength, and fought back once more. It was still to no avail, but I didn’t stop fighting. He wasn’t letting me back up this time. He meant to kill me. Panic aided my attempts to free myself, and my kicking and punching became even more emphatic. I knew my lungs were no good to me anymore, as I saw the corners of my vision begin to darken. I felt sleepy. I would not succumb. I would not give up. I directed all my energy into a final violent burst, yet still I remained beneath the water’s surface.

And then, I was gasping air, while puking up water all over the boat. Master Cho released me, and sat across from me, his arms at his sides, a neutral and placid expression on his face. My chest rose and fell with the exertion of breathing in fresh breaths, but I glared death at him while I recovered. I had my words ready, my mind stringing them together in the most obscene string possible. I continued spitting up water while drawing in breath, biding my time until I was ready to unleash verbal punishment towards him.

Finally, as I was about to speak, he held up his hand, palm outwards, and spoke. “When you seek truth as passionately as you just sought life, then you will understand today’s lesson.”

What?!? Was he really trying to justify this? Was he really sitting there, holier than thou, expecting me to buy his line of dung? When I seek truth as I have sought life… what kind of crap was that?

Then, against all the rage threatening to boil over within me, it clicked and made sense. Dammit. He made sense. He never planned on killing me, but to teach me this lesson I had to believe his sincerity. I had to crave life. I had to crave and appreciate each breath I was taking. Dammit. Why did he have to make sense?

My anger diffused. I knew he was referring to God when he spoke of truth, but that wasn’t the path for me. God was not the greater truth of life, certainly not the Amarr God. Still, the lesson itself was valuable.

I rowed us back to the shore with one paddle, and Master Cho departed without so much as a goodbye, leaving me to finish up on my own.

—

Truth greater than life was just one more reason I joined the militia. The Amarr needed to learn truth. The Amarr needed to understand that nobody deserved enslavement. The Amarr needed to learn that they died just as easily as anyone else; that their God would not save them. I would be the bearer of truth to the Amarr, and my message would be delivered with the weapons of war.

I have been wickedly thorough in delivering this message to them, again and again and again. Thanks Cho, may your corpse rot in hell.

EVATI
MINMATAR INSTALLATION

“Four minutes left.” Roc said over the fleet channel. Jedziah and Hallan Turrek, both pirates of the Bastards alliance, the main operating force in Evati, were covering the entry beacon to this factional complex. Being outlaws, if they came within range of the defending Republic Militia Battleships, they would be fired upon. Roc, being a Colonel, could do his job, securing the complex against the Amarr. He had docked with the installation sixteen minutes prior, his engineers debarking into the facility to perform their task.  So far, it had been a quiet excursion.

“Got incoming on scan.” Hallan said over the comm. “Rupture class. Is it a war target Roc?” A war target is what any militia pilot called a pilot of the opposing faction. In the case of the Minmatar, war targets would be the cursed Amarr, and their allies the Caldari.

“Negative, it’s a neut.” replied Roc. Neutrals, pirates, scavengers, whatever you wanted to call them, they were all the same; trouble. The Rupture immediately engaged the two on the beacon, which was over eighty kilometres from the military installation.

“Taking heavy fire.” Hallan blared into fleet comms. “Pull to range, Hal. I can tank this a bit.” That would be Jedziah, one of the Directors of the Bastards. Having convinced her to come on this little test flight was a stroke of pure luck. If she enjoyed the adrenaline rush of warfare, perhaps her voice would be influential to the rest of the Bastards. That was Roc’s motive afterall. Why let loyal Minmatar die on a regular basis to these very same pirates, when instead he could convince them  to fight in the war, killing Amarr or perhaps themselves dying. Either way, it was a win for the Republic.

“Could use some help here, Roc. ” Hallan said anxiously into the fleet channel. Two minutes left for the engineers in the installation. Roc did a quick scan of his fleet overview. They wouldn’t last another two minutes. His duty came first and foremost; secure the complex for the Republic. At the same time, he needed the longterm support of the pirates in this region. If they couldn’t trust him to be there in a fight, what support and confidence was he likely to get?

Roc sighed, and disengaged the docking tube, aligning his Jaguar rapidly to the engagment eighty kilometers away. The Jaguar was a bit unresponsive as he had no crew. It was just him and the machine.

“I’m done.” Hallan cursed into comms, moments before his ship exploded. It was impossible to determine in the bright flash if his pod had managed to escape. Jedziah was fading fast as well, and Roc was still forty kilometres away.

“You coming today, Roc?” she screamed.

“Almost there, Jed.” Roc said casually. He knew he wouldn’t make it in time. He wasn’t even sure if he should engage at this point. He didn’t have much chance against a Rupture class cruiser, obviously armour tanked. He sighed again. He needed the help of the Bastards. There was no two ways about it.

“I’m not gonna be able …” Jedziah screamed into fleet channel before exploding in a brilliant display of metal and fire. Roc was in range, and locked onto the enemy cruiser, opening up with his autocannons and rockets. The Rupture returned fire, as well as webbing and scramming the Jaguar.

It was immediately obvious what the outcome of this engagement would be, and they both knew it.

Roc turned his ship, and tried to get out of range of the Rupture. If he could get out of webbing range, he could probably hold the Rupture at distance long enough for reinforcements to arrive, IF reinforcements were coming.

He quickly found out what the Bastards were like in this regard. “Sunuvafuck!” That was Hallan. “I’m omw back now. Hold him tight.” Jedziah also made her intention clear that she would be coming back to seek vengeance upon this cruiser.

Unfortunately, Roc couldn’t keep distance. His armour was peeled away, then the very structure of his ship. He gave a quick thought to the engineers stranded on the installation, knowing their air supply wouldn’t last more than an hour, and then everything went white.

Immediately, he commanded his pod to warp, and it responded smoothly. Within minutes his pod was being inserted into his backup ship, the Republic fleet Firetail known as Renegade. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had brought with him.

Opening the fleet channel once again, Roc heard that the pirate in the Rupture had remained at the scene, and that this time Jedziah and Hallan were tearing him apart. Revenge was bittersweet.

Roc warped to the Minmatar installation, which was now secured for the Republic, and picked up the engineers. It was a tight squeeze in this ship, but it would at least get them all home.

From the followup conversation between the three of them, Roc, Jedziah, and Hallan, it was apparent that more than a simple victory had been accomplished that day. Colonel Roc Wieler of the Tribal Liberation Force, had begun to earn the trust of the Bastards.

RENS
BRUTOR TRIBE BUREAU

General Mako sat heavily behind his large mahogany desk. His mood was sour. The General was a patient and calculating man, but not one accustomed to being made to wait. He tapped his massive fingers against his desk, a scowl on his face, as he continued to wait. He was a mountain of a man, standing at 6’8″, with a shoulder span of nearly three and a half feet. He was solid, through and through, with a healthy layer of body fat covering his strong muscles. He was also a second echelon Blademaster, an accomplishment that would leave nearly any Brutor gaping in awe. Yet he was more than strength of body, will and purpose. He was crafty. He was enduring. 

To look at him one would think him in his early fifties. Truth be told, he was quickly approaching his nineties. He had served the Republic his entire life. He had watched how things from within, as well as without, had changed over the decades, and never for the better, in his opinion. And it was his opinion that carried weight with those that mattered. Let Shakor engage in his pitiful “Heroes of the Republic” promotions. It was blatant nonsense. Heroes didn’t win wars; real heroes created them for profit. 

Mako had no interest in being in the public eye; his tasks were best performed from the shadows. He enjoyed watching his invisible orchestra perform, with him the master conductor stringing every note together. He knew the power and influence he held over many of the key players in the Republic. It had taken him a lifetime to achieve such standing.

And it was all because of Colonel Roc Wieler. 

He chuckled to himself at that. It wasn’t this arrogant pissant of the current war he referred to. That boy was green behind the ears, with not a wit about him. No, Mako was referring to the original Colonel Roc Wieler, a man he had served under briefly nearly three generations before. Mako was just a boy at the time, two years too young to enlist in the military, but due to his size even then, he was able to lie to gain admission. 

He chuckled at the memories. To say he learned much from Colonel Wieler was perhaps not entirely accurate. He had learned much in spite of Colonel Wieler. Looking back, the man was a buffoon. At the time, he was an idol to all those around him. That was one of the first lessons Mako had learned; Those who can’t do, stand in the spotlight. It made sense really. If you were too busy out doing, how would you have time to accept accolades from your peers? Militia life was about doing, not posturing. Posturing was done by weak men. Real power was achieved behind the scenes, and real power came from never letting others know who held the strings. 

The buzz of his comm unit pulled him out of his reverie. His contact was precisely 32 seconds late. He made a mental note of that as he answered the incoming call.

A female voice initiated the conversation. “He’s settled in Evati.”

“And you’ve made all the necessary arrangements for his brief stay?” Mako asked, his voice sweet as honey.

“I have. Everything is in place.” said the female through the comm.

Mako disconnected the conversation without a farewell. For the amount he was paying her, every word cost. He leaned back, sinking into his luxuriously cushioned leather chair, resting his hands on his stomach, noticing it was a little larger than only a few months ago. He would have to do something about that. 

Roc Wieler stood in the spotlight. Roc Wieler was a dolt. He would tear Roc Wieler from his lofty pedestal, and profit from it immensely, both financially, and in power gain; for the glory of the Republic.

A faint hint of a smile crossed his lips. He loved betrayals.

FADE REGION
VANGUARD FRONTIERS BASE OPS

Sam was quickly running out of ideas, and for the first time in a long while, was distinctly aware of his own body odour. He had just spent another seventeen straight hours (and four cases of Quafe soda) trying to further his increasingly futile task of deciphering the mystery of the DNAC.

He had analyzed it many ways, and had enlisted the Aura AI to analyze it even more. He had been plugged in for most of those seventeen hours. “Plugging in” was the common term capsuleers used to describe interfacing with the Aura Neural Network. Aura was the standardized “personality” of all Artificial Constructs within New Eden. There were other customizable AI available, but they were not integrated into Aura directly; rather they were treated like any other outsider when dealing with Aura, that is to say, cordially and politely, but restricted in what they can access the same as would be a public citizen. Civilians could interface with the Aura network through digital terminals, or through subcutaneous implants, allowing them to direct their inquiries through thought instead of type. For capsuleers, interfacing took on an entirely different meaning. A long spike, nested in the end of a flexible, mechanical tentacle-like arm was the main component of most pilot’s pods. This spike would enter the base of the skull, merging the consciousness of the pilot with the matrix of the AI, whatever that may be. It would allow a capsuleer to “be” their ship, to control its functions as they would control themselves. It also allowed them a direct cerebral interface with the Aura network, allowing them to access data and information from across New Eden almost instantly. Even moreso, they could “experience” that information, for accelerated learning, within a virtual environment of their subconscious. These experiences were limited to facilitate learning only; anything else could prove fatal or maddening to the host, though there were conspiracy theories that the militaries still used Aura for experimental training on soldiers, though no tangible proof had ever surfaced. The bottom line was that no matter how good technology had become, the human mind could only sustain a set amount of stimuli at any one given time, and though that range had slight variance, it was better to err on the side of caution.

Sam headed for the shower. His own stench was actually getting to him. Maybe this was why his corpmates tended to keep their distance? His efforts had availed nothing from the obvious. The DNAC was organic. It stored trillions of bytes of data. He couldn’t narrow down what type of organic material it was. He hadn’t been able to access any of the data it contained. The artifact was truly that, a gem from an age long dead, with no records remaining as to its true nature; no manual he could peruse.

He stripped off his pyjamas, and within minutes was enjoying the hot steam embracing him tenderly. He had to figure this out, Roc was counting on him; and even moreso, he would not be beaten by a puzzle, it just wasn’t in him to surrender.

What could it possibly be? Sam’s mind was fatigued and near exhaustion. He had come at this puzzle from a thousand million different directions. He had performed every qualitative and quantitative test he had known on the device, and the only thing he knew for certain was the composition of the casing alloy. That didn’t really help. 

Or did it?

Struck with inspiration, Sam egressed from the shower, not bothering to turn it off, nor to put his pyjamas back on. He raced for his “plugin”, and soon was walking amongst the knowledge of New Eden, with Aura as his guide. His epiphany had been to narrow down his search by locating areas where that alloy occured naturally. Perhaps if the results were few enough, he could cross index them against historical databases referencing Terrans, and maybe find a lead! In his gut, he knew he was on to something.

Unfortunately, Aura disagreed. There was no known location of this alloy forming naturally within the New Eden public archives. He pursued the issue more, urging Aura to access non civilian databases, but she flatly, yet politely, refused. Insufficient clearance. 

Sam unplugged and cursed himself. He knew the answer was close. And he knew what he would have to do to obtain it. He shuffled to a nearby workspace, feeling a slight breeze on his hairy genitals, and pulled up a stool to sit on. He entered in his encrypted password on the terminal in front of him, and loaded the initialization program for Nora.

Nora, which was short for NULL – Aura, was another project Sam had developed years ago, but was rejected as 100% of the test subjects went mad when using it. Whereas when one used Aura, and was limited to interfacing with that single AI entity, and was fed information in sequential order, Nora removed those restrictions. A user was bombarded with multiple streams of information from every AI construct within New Eden. And whereas using Aura was like surfing this net of information, Nora was more like drowning under its crashing waves. 

Sam took a deep breath, and once the program had run self diagnostics, plugged in. He was immediately overwhelmed with information, but steeled his will against the machine, and began swimming through the morass of data. 

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into madness. Sam sat there at his desk, naked, his eyes wide, his pupils small, with an unnatural grin on his face, spittle making its way down his chin from the corner of his mouth. He was being consumed by the machine, but would not yield. He was losing his mind, but would not stop. 

He would find this answer, or he would die trying.

EVATI SYSTEM
ANHER GATE

The journey to Evati had been uneventful, for the most part. There was the occasional ship ping from the local enforcement agency along the way, but a quick flash of his credentials was enough to grant him pass. As he ventured further into lowsec, it was no longer his status as Colonel of the Minmatar Republic Tribal Liberation Force that achieved safe passage, but rather a quick display of his armaments, or his afterburner. He had made it safely to Evati; safe being a relative term now that he was in this pirate infested hellhole.

Roc Wieler had the Aura AI brain that interfaced pilot to ship run a thorough local scan as soon as he entered the system. There wasn’t much action in the local comms channel, not that he expected there to be. Aura reported ten planets, all inhabited, but minimal civilian space lane traffic. Seems the pirates were doing their job well. The Republic Fleet Logistic Support station was located near Planet VI, orbiting the third moon. Roc mentally encouraged the ship to plot a warp jump to that station. A few moments later the ship was ready to jump, and he was about to give the command to engage, when he received a private and secured comm request.

He had Aura run a trace on the broadcast, and was surprised when it came back with a positive reading. He accepted the call. “Well hi there darlin'” a seductively friendly voice said from the channel. One of the first things Roc had learned as a capsuleer was that there were no friends in space. Still, it was Mynxee whom had convinced him to make this journey. He knew her ulterior motive was to make a pirate out of him, but that was as likely to happen as a Gallente woman doing anything but laying still during sex.

“Mynxee,” his scratchy voice replied into the channel. He had Aura triangulate her position quickly, and aligned his ship in that direction. At the same time, he had the AI transfer the Republic Fleet station coordinates to the AI of the Renegade in tow, then detached the umbilical securing the two ships, directing it via autopilot to dock at the Fleet station. He quickly opened a channel to the docking manager there, letting him know his ship would be arriving and landing on its own. All the while, Mynxee blathered on about this and that, the gist of it being how happy she was that he had come to her home system for a visit.

He kept his Jaguar in constant motion, knowing that being stagnant was as good as being dead. She finally mentioned that she was in a deep safespot, and that if he so desired, he could warp to her for a more relaxed conversation. As he was already aligned, he urged the ship into warp speed, and only moments later reverted to realspace, to the sound of target locking. He processed the information quickly; it was Mynxee’s Jaguar that had him locked and was firing autocannons at him. He also knew his shields were barely being penetrated by the weapons. Still, so much for a friendly welcome.

“Are you sure you want to do that, Mynxee?” he asked flatly into their secured comm channel.

“It’s just a little fun. I won’t kill you, though sometimes my AI doesn’t sync up quite right, so if I do kill you, I’m sorry in advance.” Mynxee had a playful voice, which made her as deadly as they came. She could probably tear your ship from you while you sat entranced listening to her every word.

“Last chance before I open fire.” Roc said, emotionless, into the comm channel. He didn’t have time for this. This wasn’t what he came here for. He checked his  readings, shields 80% and holding, transverse velocity optimal, weapons primed and locked. She continued firing.

“You’re far too uptight, hun. Relax a little. Stiff military life won’t do you any good out here.” He knew she was trying to be charming, but his life in the militia was all he had, all he valued. Insulting that was like insulting him, and he didn’t take to insults well.

He opened fire.

The shields on her Jaguar quickly collapsed, and she began evasive maneuvering. He continued his assault with a salvo of rockets, ruptures appearing all through her armour. He quickly reduced her to structure, aligning his ship towards Evati VI. He had made his point; it was time to leave.

“Maybe if you weren’t using second hand, second rate gear, your ship would respond as intended.” There was dripping sarcasm in his voice. He actually thought Mynxee was enjoyable as a person, even if her sense of timing and humour was a little off right now. Nobody could be “on” 100% of the time.

He entered warp, heading for the Fleet station, listening to Mynxee continue her flappery in the comm channel.

Suddenly, she cursed, then comm silence. Frantically, and much to his surprise, he had his ship do a deep scan of the area they were in immediately, concerned for her safety. A Drake, Phobos and Raptor were on scan. Mynxee would be no match at all for them. Even with his help, there wouldn’t be much chance of survival, but something the militia instilled in you was that no one was left behind.

He quickly turned the ship, plotted the course, and had the warp drive warming up for the jump when he got a message in the secured comm channel he and Mynxee had been using.

“Well that’s a lesson learned; never linger too long.” a familiar voice said. It sounded slightly different, as if it had never been used before, but was unmistakably Mynxee. “They got me good; podded me too.” She laughed, which Roc found to be an odd response to having been killed, as well as losing a ship and crew. It was another thing he didn’t understand or approve of in regards to the pirate way of life. It was almost a perverse disregard for life. The galaxy was so full of the pursuit of technology and profit, that no cost seemed too high sometimes. That was a line he hoped never to cross.

He aborted the warp sequence, and returned his ship’s bearing towards Evati VI, Moon 3, Republic Fleet Logistic Support.

Helluva first day.

Out of character again today. I’m going to talk about our iPhone application for a moment, Capsuleer. You can find more details HERE.

Our fanbase for Capsuleer has been awesome! With over 6400 installs to date, Sam and I are motivated and excited to keep bringing more functionality and slick styling to the application.

We’ve also started an advertising campaign. 

We’ve taken out a full page advertisement in EON Magazine, the Official Eve Online magazine, AND have an interview in this month’s issue. We’re also writing an article for the next issue of EON about working with the EVE API.

I’ve only ever read the free samples of EON personally (Sorry!), but I am actually going to be purchasing three copies of the January issue. 

I encourage you all to order your copy as well. From what I’ve read, and what the Eve Online forums say, it’s an amazing magazine.

You will also see our ad randomly this year during the EVE Online startup. That will be a serious thrill.

Sam and I want to thank everyone once again for your continued support and motivation! It sounds cheesy, but it really does give us the strength we need to get the job done.

Here’s a sneak peek of the ad. Enjoy!

I was seven years old when the Imperial Inquisitor requested me. By then, I had already forgotten how long I had been working as a slave; forgotten how long it had been since I was a child of the Minmatar.

To serve an Inquisitor was a great honour amongst the slave camps. It was almost a guarantee that you would be in the presence of God more quickly than the rest, and during your remaining short life you would accomplish much glory in the name of the Emperor.

I remember first arriving at the capital of Sarum Prime to my new assignment. I had never seen anything so spectacular in my entire life. It was literally breathtaking and awe inspiring. I could see why so many of us were indoctrinated so easily into the Amarrian belief system; aside from the dependency on Vitoc. The architecture was astounding; the cacophony of sight and sound overwhelming to the senses. The people were the height of fashion and sophistication; it truly was an impressive Empire.

I eventually reached a cathedral; my new home, shared accomodation with Imperial Inquisitor Cho; and should I learn humbly from this mighty man of God, much honour and glory would be bestowed upon me. At the time, I was honoured. Looking back, I am sickened.

It was only a few days before Inquisitor Cho had a task for us. “Dog, (his pet name for me), we have received a most honour filled duty this morning, from the office of the Emperor himself. One of the many traitors to the Empire has been located, here on Sarum Prime, and it is our duty to show him the error of his ways, and bring him back to God.”

I eagerly prepared, making sure I had enough food wrapped and preserved, as well as clothing and supplies for the journey. For all his might, for all his power, Inquisitor Cho often led a simplistic life. This journey would be on foot, and should only take us a few days. There was much I would learn from him, I thought at the time; patience, humility, appreciation for simplicity, and much more. I did in fact learn those things from him, and much more.

We talked as we travelled to make the time pass by more pleasantly. Generally it was me asking questions incessantly, and Inquisitor Cho patiently answering my inquiries. He seemed to have an answer for everything. Eventually, he would raise his hand to silence me, encouraging me to spend some time digesting the information he had imparted upon me. 

As the hours turned into days, and we ventured farther and farther from the capital, I noticed how society seemed to decay by comparison. Cities turned into towns; towns into villages; villages into small farms; farms into huts. The farther you travelled from the capital, the less civilized things became.

On the fourth day, we finally came to a small hut in the middle of nowhere. It was quite dilapidated, with holes in the roofing slats, cracks in the mud walls, and general disrepair. A goat was kenneled in a small pen beside the  hut. There was a young boy, younger than me, playing with a stick in the dirt happily in front of the house. He hadn’t seen us approaching.

I had learned from Inquisitor Cho that the traitor we sought had caused much grief to the Emperor publically. He had been a politician of many years, but only recently had the devils possessed his mind. In his mad rantings, he had decried the Emperor, and the Amarr people as a whole, tearing his clothing to emphasize his shame. The Emperor, though saddened to his core, felt he had no choice but to make an example of this man. He took all his wealth, all his holdings, all his power. He exiled him from all of Amarr space, and yet only recently had it been learned that the traitor was still here, only a few day’s journey away from the capital itself.

He had nothing. His wife and his son were his only relatives; and the goat they used for milk and simple farming. Their existence had gone from one of grandeur to one of squalor.

But the Emperor, upon discovering the location of this man, had taken pity on him, and it had been decided to show him mercy. That is why we were here today. To extend the mercy of the great Emperor; to bring him back to God.

As we drew closer to the small hut, the young boy noticed us, stood abruptly, and ran screaming into the hut. A few moments later, a scruffy, older looking man came out from the hut, the young boy clinging to his leg, despite the older man’s attempts to push the boy inside. A womanly scream, filled with crying, came from inside the hut. The older man held a crude knife in his trembling hand.

“You’re not welcome here, Cho,” he said, his voice trembling. “I’ve done no harm. I bother nobody. Leave me to my existence, I beg of you.”

The Inquisitor didn’t break his stride, steadily closing the gap between us and the older man. At a subtle hand gesture from my master, I quickly pulled out a small laser pistol, and pointed it at the older man.

The older man’s eyes widened, and he dropped his knife, falling to his knees, his hands clasping in a prayer like motion. “Please, Cho, please don’t kill me. Don’t kill my family. Haven’t I suffered enough?”

It was hard to read Inquisitor Cho sometimes. I knew he was a good man, but sometimes his actions were contradictory to that. 

He extended his hand, palm up, welcoming the older man to take it. “I’m not here to kill you, Creighton. I am here on behalf of the Emperor to extend his mercy to you; the mercy of God to you. Today, you shall live.”

The old man began shaking even more, and the screaming from inside the hut was preceded by a plump woman bursting outwards onto the scene, clutching her son in her arms protectively.

“No!” she screamed. “We don’t want your mercy!” She cried while she yelled, spitting as she spoke. I didn’t understand. Why were these people so afraid of mercy? Mercy was a blessing. It was a gesture of good will. Why were they refusing it?

There was a silence for a time. 

Finally, my master turned to me and whispered “Kill the goat.” I walked towards the pen, and observed the goat for a moment. It was a sickly creature, far too scrawny to be of much use to anyone else, but this was all they had. How was killing it showing them mercy? Without it, they wouldn’t have milk. Without it, they wouldn’t be able to farm and make money for market. I was confused. The goat didn’t looked diseased. Why were we killing it?

I turned to Inquisitor Cho with a pleading look in my eye, a question on the tip of my lips, but he silenced me with a glare.

I didn’t understand. This wasn’t mercy at all. I killed the goat, cursing my master and the Emperor under my breath. If this was an act of our merciful God, I didn’t want any part of it.

We left shortly after that, much to the visible relief of the family in the hut. I didn’t speak to my master for nearly an entire day. Finally, I could take it no more, and as we made camp for the night, I exploded in anger.

“You took everything from them! How could you do such a thing? How could you destroy their milk? How could you destroy their farm? Did you see their hut? Did you see where the rain would leak in? And there were holes in the wall. It must be very cold at night. Why did you do it? Why did you take everything? Why did you kill their goat and say it was mercy? There is no mercy in that! Is that the God we serve? Is that how we show mercy, by killing things? We could’ve helped them. Where is the mercy? Answer me!”

I had never been more infuriated in my life at that point. My small chest heaved with heavy breaths and adrenaline, my fists clenching at my sides in impotent rage. My master didn’t have to do anything I demanded; he didn’t have to even respond. In fact, he could kill me on the spot and nobody would even mourn my loss. I was completely surprised by what he did next though.

“We were supposed to kill their son.” There was no emotion in his voice, just flat fact. 

I was completely deflated. I had nothing left.

It took me many years to figure out exactly what Inquisitor Cho had meant that day. During that time, I had never lost track of that family. They had died, slowly, painfully, from starvation and disease, with nobody willing to aid them, and no means of income. Mercy had become torture. It was a lesson to them that there was no mercy if you betrayed the Empire, and they had paid the ultimate price in their education.

It was many years later that I triumphed over Vitoc; that I escaped from Sarum Prime and took control of my own destiny. 

It was many years later before I had Inquisitor Cho in the crosshairs of my Vagabond. As I tore his ship away from him, I had my crew quickly lock onto his pod, and sent him a secured comm. The look of shock and terror on his face was very satisfying.

“I can offer you a fortune,” he said quickly. “I am very powerful in the Empire. Name your terms.” He was begging for mercy; how very quaint.

“Hello, master.” His face contorted into an almost comical expression as he tried to figure out who I was then contorted differently once realization occured.

“Dog, I mean … Roc? Is that you? My son, what are you doing? Do you wish the wrath of God Himself? Have mercy on me.” I was a raging storm of hostility inside, but I kept myself in check this one time.

“If I wasn’t merciful, Cho, you’d be dead already, but I wanted to speak to you, face to face.” Confusion was etched on his face.

“I will be merciful, Cho. You are a Capsuleer, and will live again. Your children however …” I let my sentence dangle off. His expression turned from one of confusion to one of fury.

“If you so much as touch a hair on their …”, he screamed at me before I cut him off.

“It’s already done, Cho. They died quickly, which is more than you ever did for Creighton and his family. Never let it be said that I didn’t learn mercy from the very best, master.”

And with that, I gave the command to fire.

PROLOGUE

EVATI IX – MOON 4 – KAALAKIOTA CORPORATION WAREHOUSE

“What was it about this man?” she thought to herself, as she stood on the bridge of her Jaguar. “Bridge” was a subjective term, as the typical assault frigate class ship manned a crew of 5 – 8. The particular design of this ship was very cramped, but she and her team had grown accustomed to the working conditions.

She stood beside her pod, her hand gently gliding down it’s sleek surface, her weight shifted to one long leg, as she inhaled deeply, feeling the flutter of her heart. “Dammit, Mynx, get a hold of yourself,” she muttered quietly into the stillness.

Mynxee was all woman. Over six feet tall, athletic, firm in all the right places; soft in all the right places. She had piercing grey eyes which contrasted her intensely red, flowing hair. She was the CEO of a successful pirating guild, the Hellcats, and was as ambitious as they came. She devoured men for breakfast, snacking on their hearts for lunch while savouring their souls in the evening over a nice glass of wine. She was not one to be trifled with; and most men that knew her were quick to learn that valuable life lesson.

She sighed again, trying to regulate her breathing without much luck. She felt like a damned schoolgirl. She felt like kicking her own ass because of it. And it was all because of one man, the man in her eyes, Roc Wieler.

She had met him by chance only briefly a few months prior, as he was bombarded by the paparazzi, the result of an advertising campaign promoting the “heroes” of the war. Mynxee was an accomplished pirate; she had no use for heroes, her life was one of making her own rules. But when she saw him, something deep within her stirred, and against the better judgement of her conscience, she had joined the crowd, acquired an autographed picture of the “Colonel”, which she had framed and still had on the wall of her office. She also knew from that brief encounter that she wasn’t the only one who felt something between them; she could read it in his body language. He desired her. All men desired her, but his attraction was different. She could feel it. He wanted to consume her, and she wanted to be consumed.

She rested her face against the palm of her hand, shaking her head, and laughed. What the hell was she going to do? She couldn’t even concentrate on getting flight prepped, and her crew would be arriving momentarily.

“Aura, startup the pod initiation sequence, command authorization delta-bravo-niner-niner,” she said, willing herself to focus on the task at hand. The pod access hatch hissed, releasing its seal, then slowly opened, tentacle-like cables reaching outwards as if alive and self aware. She effortlessly slipped out of her form fitting jumpsuit, and squeezed into the warm fluid of the pod, submissively surrendering herself to the probing tentacles. Becoming one with her ship was always an arousing and stimulating experience, always leaving her with a smile on her face.

After several minutes had passed, her crew began assembling on deck. She was nearly finished her startup checks when the comm buzzed. It was their scout at the Anher gate; there was an inbound contact. She furrowed her brow for a moment. Why would he be contacting her about this? She wasn’t fleet command. She studied the ship data being transmitted, her eyes growing wider with every passing second. It was a Jaguar class Assault Frigate, designation “Ripsack”, with a frigate class Republic Fleet Firetail in tow, designation “Renegade”. She had known he would be coming, or at least she had hoped he would be, but the man sure did know how to pleasantly surprise a girl. She almost squealed in delight, then rolled her eyes at herself at the thought of it. 

Colonel Roc Wieler had come to Evati, and he would be hers if it was the last thing she ever did.

PROLOGUE

VANGUARD FRONTIERS STATION, FADE REGION

PyjamaSam was a galactic anomaly. While brilliant in technical & engineering skills, he was almost inept at combat piloting & social grace. It was this perverse sense of cosmic balance that made him so very interesting to those whom knew him. He liked to consider himself as eclectic, but the deeper truth was that he suffered from several mental disorders, the least of which being obsessive compulsiveness. 

Seven hours ago, his friend Roc Wieler, had dropped by with a most special package. It was a metallic box, obsidian in colour, small enough to carry, but heavy enough to be substantial. It was a Terran relic retrieved months ago on some high level Minmatar black op, and Sam, whom at the time, had only seen it through a brief video comm with Roc, never dreamt that he would actually be tinkering with it now.

The best of the Minmatar Republic were stumped. Their scientists were puzzled. Their engineers perplexed. They all knew what it was on a basic level, it was a DNA computer (DNAC). Deciphering what type of DNA it was, and extracting the untold amounts of data stored on this device was another challenge entirely. Who knew how old this was? Who knew what wonders lay inside of it?

Sam was simply delighted that Roc had thought of him, recommending to his superiors that the box be delivered to Sam, that if anyone could shed some light on this subject, it would be him. What Sam didn’t know was that they had outright refused the request, but Roc, knowing Sam was the one being in the galaxy whom could help, had “appropriated” the device and brought it to him anyway.

Forty One hours left. Roc was crystal clear when handing the device over that Sam had two days to figure it out. He hadn’t questioned it at the time, too enraptured by the DNAC to even have noticed at what point Roc had eventually left. He didn’t know what would happen when his alotted time had elapsed. Would the device cease to function? Would it blow up? Would Roc simply come back and retrieve it? Or was there something more sinister afoot that he hadn’t considered?

In the end, it didn’t matter. He had a job to do, a task to complete. He hadn’t moved from his workstation since commencing his examination of the device, yet sadly he wasn’t any closer to unravelling its mysteries. But he would. He could feel it in his soul. This machine was of great import, and it was his destiny to be a part of it.

Adjusting an overhanging halo lamp, Sam lowered his micro goggles back over his eyes, downed a Quafe soda, hunched over, and got to work.