Category Archives: Roc’s Ramblings

Random spewings from the mouth of Roc Wieler

The Colonel and the Pirate Part 2

Posted by Roc Wieler on

Author’s note: Please read Mynxee’s The Pirate & The Colonel chapter before continuing.

DAL VI – MOON 1
REPUBLIC JUSTICE DEPARMENT TRIBUNAL

“We’re sorry, Colonel, but we need you to come with us.” the first security escort said as the two of them stood inside of my quarters, having bypassed my security lock. They wore the uniforms and riot gear of TLF Military Police, which meant something had gone wrong, horribly wrong, and I was implicated.

I hadn’t slept a wink that night, and was still working on my rescue plan for Mynxee when they had arrived early in the morning. I wasn’t at my best physically or emotionally, being sleep deprived and wrought with distress over the entire situation.

“May I at least inquire as to why?” I asked politely, yet firmly, slowly reaching to unclip the holster on my sidearm furthest away from their view. I wasn’t about to shoot an MP, but I wasn’t going to go anywhere until someone started giving me answers.

Shakor wouldn’t respond to any of my meeting requests or comm messages. None of my own staff involved on the case would give me any information, even off the record, not even that Halwick kid I had taken under my wing not so long ago. I couldn’t fault any of them for it, duty was duty, and in a way I was proud of their resolve to follow orders, but my mind was set, and I was as stubborn as they came.

I needed to rescue her. I needed to show her I loved her. If that meant leaving this life behind, then so be it; she was worth it. The actions of my superiors in the last twenty four hours had shown me just how valued any one person truly was, regardless of their prior contributions to the cause. We were all just disposable pawns, played when needed, removed from the game board when not.

I was nobody’s pawn.

“Sir, please. Remove your sidearms slowly and place them on the floor.” The second escort said, seeing what I was attempting. I slowly removed my pistols and placed them on the floor, the first escort having his hand on his stun baton while cautiously approaching me. They were treating me like they would any other criminal. It was infuriating.

I stood suddenly, pushing my shoulders back broadly, making them aware of my full presence. They both started for a moment, quickly regaining their composure, one grabbing my wrists and securing binders on me, the second reading me the charges against me.

“Colonel Roc Wieler, you are hereby charged with treason of the highest degree against the Tribal Liberation Force and against the Minmatar Republic. You are also charged with murder in the second degree for the death of Spear Lieutenant Daul Halwick.”

The words hit me like a frigate to the face. Daul was dead? How was that even possible? I had seen him only two days prior. And treason against the Republic? I would never do such a thing. What the hell was going on?

I was thankful that I hadn’t made a scene, or engaged the MPs directly in my quarters; whatever was going on, that would certainly have made things worse for me.

With one MP on each arm, I was walked out of my room during the morning rush hour at Dal station. My sunglasses were removed and confiscated, and I felt completely exposed and vulnerable.

A crowd of pedestrians quickly gathered, gossip spreading like rampant wildfire amongst them as I was escorted into a nearby hovercart, and driven away down the esplanade, strangers staring and judging me the entire way. I hung my head low, feeling the burning shame inflicted upon me by them, but knowing I had done nothing wrong and would eventually be exonerated.

—

“Goddammit!” Maleatu Shakor, Sanmatar of the Republic screamed at me, spittle dripping from his mouth. His face was crimson with an anger I had never seen in him before, veins viciously pulsating in his forehead.

I was seated in a small interrogation room on a metal chair bolted to the concrete floor. A single recessed light fixture illuminated us from above. The two MPs stood on either side of me, with two more heavily armed MPs guarding the door, as well as one more watching from behind a secured mirror panel. My legs had been secured to ankle clamps on the chair, in addition to the binders still secured at my wrists.

“Just talk to me! Tell me why you did it!” Shakor said. “Was it money? Was it power? Did I not mentor you? Did I not give you every opportunity you wanted? Why did you do this?!” More spittle flew from his mouth.

“Talk to you?” I replied, my own anger threatening to make my situation worse. “You mean, like you’ve been talking to me the last few days? If you hadn’t kept me in the dark on this entire operation I could’ve helped prevent this tragedy. If you had…” I was cut off mid-sentence by a stinging slap from the Sanmatar.

“You forget your place, Colonel.” Shakor said, rubbing his hand from the force of his blow. I could feel my cheek swelling, knowing there would be a fine bruise there. Even though he was the most powerful politician in the Republic, the man was an accomplished warrior first, and those were skills you never forgot.

“I don’t answer to you.” Maleatu said, poking his finger into my chest. “You answer to me. Do you get that? Do you understand that?” He repeatedly poked me. “You’ve been spoiled with privilege.” he added.

“You had such potential,” he continued on, turning and walking away from me. “You had so much promise. I was so blinded, forgive the pun, by what I saw in you. You could’ve been a great leader, a wonderful politician. Don’t you see I was grooming you to be the next Sanmatar?”

I felt like a child who had disappointed his father one too many times, had crossed a line where unconditional love no longer applied. I was being disowned by my mentor, but moreso, by the Sanmatar of the Republic. The worst feeling in all of this was that I hadn’t been part of any of the things I stood accused of.

“So let me ask you once again, Colonel Wieler; why did you do it? Was it love? Did you love her? Loved her enough to murder one of your own men? You are a disgrace to the uniform; a disgrace to me.”

“Sanmatar, please, as I’ve said every time I’ve been asked, I had nothing to do with this.” My anger had been replaced with fear. Not fear for the ramifications to the Republic or fear of how the press would feast on this; it had been repeatedly hammered into my dense skull lately that I simply wasn’t that important in the grand scheme of things. It was a fear of failure. I had worked so hard at my career, tirelessly put in effort towards making my life successful in the ways that mattered most: loyalty, honesty, integrity, morality, and now I was being perceived much in the same way I was when held in captivity by the Amarr as a child.

I was a dog.

The Sanmatar was visibly trembling with thinly held rage.

He stormed towards me, his hand raised, his mouth open, and I prepared for another blow. But then he stopped, holding the pose for a moment. He closed his mouth, lowered his hand, and spoke to me gently. His words cut me open more than any physical attack he could’ve made.

“You disappoint me, son.” was all he said, then turned and left the room.

There was no room for self-pity. A good man had died. That is what mattered.

I’m sorry, Daul. I thought to myself. You deserved better, kid.

I had gone over possible scenarios in my mind as to what had could’ve gone down, and came up with countless scenarios, each vastly different from the other.

There were only two themes in common amongst them:

  1. Mynxee was no longer in custody
  2. She had murdered Daul Halwick

I didn’t know how, or why, and I didn’t honestly believe she was capable of doing something so cold blooded, but no matter how it happened, she was responsible for his death. His blood was on her hands… and mine for having ever been so naively taken in by her in the first place.

I nearly laughed out loud at my latest self realization; how quickly passionate and fierce love could transform into vengeful and unrelenting hate. Mynxee had finally made it clear what her position was regarding us, and it suited me just fine.

I swore to myself that one day, no matter where or how it happened, I would hold Mynxee accountable for her actions. There would be no secured return to the Republic for her. There would be no trial; no incarceration.

There was going to be hell to pay. Hell. To. Pay.

Missed Opportunity

Posted by Roc Wieler on

“From mining?” I repeated with incredulity.

“Yeah man! We pulled in just over a billion isk in two hours! It was insane!” Nathan Carver said through our secured comm excitedly.

Nathan had been living in wormhole space for months, only recently venturing out on his own solo expeditions. We had tried once together to find some profit in wormhole space, but it wasn’t in the cards that day.

He sent me a comm, late in the evening, telling me how himself and three miners went into wormhole space, and while he engaged the Sleepers, they emptied the gas clouds.

“I made 70 million in salvage alone. I’m telling you, you need to get out here with me and do this. It’s like stamping your own isk.” Nathan said, his energy level increasing. “I took my Drake, tanked it easily. Man, still can’t get over how much isk we made.”

“And you didn’t comm me earlier because?” I asked playfully, but with just enough inflection as to seem genuinely hurt.

“We were in Caldari high sec.” Nathan replied evenly. “I assumed you wouldn’t have been interested, but if I was wrong, next time I can just …”

“No, no, that’s fine.” I interrupted. “Good call on your end. I’m not exactly a welcomed guest by the State.”

“So after I finished up with the Sleepers, I went and got my Badger. The value of my hold filled with Fullerite was easily 250 mil, but then we took it to a POS and the miners/industrialists refined into some other even more valuable component. So yeah, crazy isk for minimal effort. I totally wish you had been here.” Nathan said.

“You know, Nate.” I began. “When you get all excited like this, you sound like a teenaged boy in heat over some skirt. It’s funny really.”

“Hahaha, well, you sound like that all the time; at least I have an excuse.” Nathan replied.

I have to confess he did have me interested in the profitability, but mining? Please. I had never mined in my life. There were civilians with far more expertise in that field than me. Granted, they wouldn’t ever have access to wormhole mining in their lifetime, but still.

“What kind of mining did you say it was again?” I asked, realizing my mistake as soon as the words left my mouth.

“Gas harvesting!” Nathan replied even more excitedly than before. “I could show you how to do it with about three days of training. Then it’s just isk lining our pockets.”

“Ugh. I can see it now, ‘Colonel Roc Wieler, Miner of the Republic.’ It just has that majestic ring to it.” I said sarcastically.

“Oh get over yourself. Who cares how you get rich so long as you get rich? You’re not much of a gambler, you’re not out there pirating, your not one of those ninja salvagers living off of other people’s hard work, you’re a Colonel in the freaking military. I’m sure that pays you oh so well.” Nathan said, the hints of a lecture forming.

“Alright, alright. I’ll think about it.” I said. “But I swear if you tell anyone that I was mining, I will hunt you down and kill you a hundred times over.”

“Hahaha. Fair enough.” Nathan replied, content just to have won a victory.

I couldn’t believe it. I was actually considering mining. I felt so very dirty.

The Colonel and the Pirate, Part I

Posted by Roc Wieler on

This had been brewing for months and there was nobody to blame but myself.

I could’ve sat philosophically, overanalyzing my motives that brought this moment about, but really, now was the time for action. It didn’t matter if it was done with good intentions; it didn’t matter if it wasn’t. Perhaps in my subconscious it had been a grab at power, I’m sure Sard say would say it was overcompensation, but was it? And again, did it matter? No.

The truth of the situation left me cold. Mynxee, the CEO of the pirate corporation Hellcats, and perhaps the only woman to ever melt my heart, had been captured and interrogated by the very task force I had assembled and set in motion. In principle, I was fine with it; I had warned/pleaded/begged/lectured her since we first became romantically involved that the life she had chosen would inevitably lead her to ruin. The irony of course is that I never once considered it might ruin me.

I had to save her. Wasn’t that the right thing to do?

The dilemma was that I had sworn to serve the Republic at all costs, regardless of my personal feelings. Duty was duty, and it was my strict adherence to my duty that had elevated me to the position I had earned through blood, sweat and tears.

There were few Matar Colonels in the Republic, and I held that honour proudly. The Republic was slowly gaining momentum, slowly redefining its identity, remembering its once proud heritage, and coming together as a unified people. We just needed more time, and more leaders driven to embracing our people, driving them forwards into glory; I wanted to be one of those leaders. It rang true to my heart.

And yet Mynxee was in my heart as well. We had shared much together, and I cherished those memories, and the emotions that welled up inside of me upon thinking of them. The thought of continuing this life without her was almost too much bear. Was this love?

I slammed my fist against the wall of my quarters, as I laid uncomfortably on my bed, having been tossing and turning all night.  An entire day had already passed since the Sanmatar had first delivered the news of Mynxee’s detention, as well as following that up with a clear understanding of my role in this scenario. I was strictly forbidden access to this prisoner, as our romantic relationship was a well known rumour  that if discovered to be true could bring about such a fallout that would ruin both my military and political careers.

Double dipping? The head of the Anti-Pirate Task Force romantically involved with an infamous pirate. That is how the tabloids would read.

I hated to admit it, but the Sanmatar was right. The Republic was still too fragile; a scandal like this would only weaken us. I knew my duty, and it was to the Republic. Forgive me, Mynxee, I had thought to myself at that realization, but felt at peace with the decision. It wasn’t my fault she led the life she did. It wasn’t my fault she was foolish enough to get herself captured.

So why did I feel so damned guilty?

All day, my heart grew heavier and heavier, my conscience weighing me down until I could barely function as a pilot, my thoughts a jumbled blur that half the time spilled over into commands to my Aura unit, which she couldn’t process properly.

I grounded myself temporarily, until I could get my head back in the game. One single woman shouldn’t have been able to affect me so. It was more than physical love, though her face possessed such radiant beauty as to be able to get her way from any man. Her body was sculpted to athletic perfection, but not to the point of losing a single ounce of femininity. And don’t even get me started on her hair! Thick, red, flowing dreadlocks, some down to her heart shaped, firm ass, man!

I pulled myself from that line of thinking, as it clearly wasn’t going to help the situation any.

Shutting myself into my quarters, I spent the rest of my day trying to access the reports surrounding her incarceration, only to find that my access had been revoked. I didn’t know what else to do, and lay torn about the issue.

“Do you want to throw away your career for a woman?” I voiced out loud, hoping that maybe talking myself through it would be of benefit. “Do you even love her? Do you even know if she loves you? Better be damn sure old man.”

I sighed heavily.

“What if she doesn’t? What if you do all this, throw away everything, simply to have her deny your affection? Then what are you left with? Nothing but regret and a broken heart. No woman is worth that. Never forget that.”

I rolled over onto my stomach, still unable to get comfortable. Usually, I was asleep minutes after my head hit the pillow; no such luck tonight.

“But what if she does love you and you do nothing? You’re the only one that can save her, and think of how grateful she’ll be. Of course she loves you, look at all you’ve been through together. You think that sexual tension is just for show? She wants you as much as you want her. Why do you think you can’t sleep? If you’re willing to listen to your heart, you know what the right thing is to do.”

I sat straight up, my moment of epiphany upon me.

I had to do it. I had to rescue her. I had to be with her.

—

Motherfucker, Mynxee thought to herself, curling her legs tightly to her chest on a stone bench within her cell. She had been there three days, and hadn’t even heard from him. Goddamn him!

She was left only in basic undergarments, and was shivering with cold; her cell seeming very archaic compared to some of the prisons she had spent time in over the years. Leave it to us Minmatar to have the crappiest jails in New Eden, she echoed in her mind, laughing. It had been a long time since she’d been in a Republic jail.

The dank walls were split only by the solid steel door with two slits in it, one at eye level for the guard to check on her, the other much lower to slide food to her. She had eaten some horrible food in her lifetime, but even this had been pushing the limits of her intestinal fortitude.

Thinking of food made her stomach grumble. The door double tapped, and despite herself, she hoped it was Roc. Her hope didn’t spring from longing or romantic desire, or some typical notion that he would somehow magically set things right, and she would be free, no. She wanted to see him personally so she could spit on him, tell him to fuck himself and his misguided ethics, tell him she didn’t need to be saved from the life she loved, and relish in the resulting look on his face.

Yes, she cared about him deeply at one point, but he had gone too far; he had crossed the line with this latest escapade of his. The Hellcats and the Bastards wouldn’t stand for this. She knew she wouldn’t be here much longer, one way or the other.

The upper slit slid open, revealing piercing blue eyes. It wasn’t Roc. It was the same man that brought her food every evening shift; he had called himself Daul.

He was the only one that had been gentle with her, the only one to treat her as a human being, and not some stray, sickly dog that deserved to be beaten.

The lower slit opened, and he pushed a tray of hot food into her cell. Her stomach growled in earnest, the scent of the hot dumplings the foulest aroma she had ever known.

She devoured the plate of food, gagging only once on its horrid taste, picturing her favourite steak dinner and wine as she ate.

With food in her stomach, her temperment softened slightly, and her thoughts turned once again to Roc Wieler. The Colonel, she harumphed sarcastically.

Where had they gone wrong? Had it been destined to fail from the very beginning? Was she so blinded by his chiselled jaw and carved body that she had let her judgement waver?

Her heart raced thinking of him now. He is dead sexy, she allowed herself to indulge, remembering his touch, the security and warmth of his arms around her.

And she loved his insecurity. He hid it well, but nowhere near as well as he thought. It added a humourous awkwardness to the otherwise ‘gruff’ persona he projected. She wondered how long he had worked on that, and if he really thought anyone bought into it.

That made her chuckle slightly, the first time she had smiled since being brought here.

She scowled at the realization, her mind racing to scorn once more.

Whatever they had shared, it obviously hadn’t meant as much to him as it had to her. Fuck him.

Wormholing

Posted by Roc Wieler on

“She looks good.” I said to my chief mechanic. “Hopefully she’ll do the intended job.”

“She’ll be treatin’ ye right, lad. None of yer fluff, all yer meat.” my chief mechanic replied.

I had christened her the Kubwa, my first battlecruiser, a Hurricane class ship. The entire fit had been just over 100 million isk, but I figured I should get some solid experience in wormholes before taking my 2 billion isk fit Slepnier in there. My crew was slowly becoming comfortable with that size of ship, but I wouldn’t consider us capable yet.

My old friend Nathan Carver had been involved in a wormhole colony the last few months, their entire existence based in wormhole space. They had several POSes setup, and had regularly made their way into class 6 Sleeper facilities. Meanwhile, their Empire team would transport required goods and materials where needed. The entire colony experiment was thriving well, raking in billions of isk.

The war against the Amarr continued to drain my personal finances, so any quick influx of isk was welcome.

We met in Hek at 20:00 hours.

“Alright, I’ll scan us down something.” Nathan said.

“Sure thing, Nate. I’ll just sit here and look sexy I guess.” I replied. My Hurricane was an artillery fit, six 650 mm IIs at the ready. Complimenting those was a standard missle launcher, and a salvager. “Range and tank were they key”, Nathan had said to me when first discussing this opportunity. “The salvager just makes it easier so we don’t have to keep going back and forth.” he had also mentioned.

It wasn’t the strongest fit Hurricane in the galaxy, but I trusted Nathan’s expertise in this enough to fit accordingly. Now I just had to sit and wait.

I looked at the Tribal Liberation Force channel, keeping my eyes open for any potential threat coming our way. Nathan was no longer military, but I was still a Colonel, and though he had come in his Nighthawk which might make small gangs a little wary, we were anything but untouchable.

“Nice. Nailed it on the first try.” Nathan chimed in within minutes. “Warp to me and let’s take a look.” Soon I was sitting in front of the wormhole. It was a glorious and mesmerizing phenomenon, far more beautiful than I remembered from the wormhole I remembered when rescuing Sam from the fleet of Dreadnoughts. Of course, at that time I was focused on staying alive, not sitting around enjoying the scenery.

We jumped through the wormhole, landing in Amarr space, 31 jumps from our original destination. Fortunately, it was lowsec, or I was sure their militia would’ve responded accordingly to my presence. We returned through the wormhole, as it wasn’t what we were looking for, but I made a bookmark, as the destination would be useful to me over the coming days for quick hit and runs into Amarr space, at least until the wormhole collapsed.

We travelled through a few dead end systems, Nathan explaining the higher probability of not being bothered to me, and we eventually found another cosmic signature.

Warping to the signature, we came across an Orca. It didn’t retreat right away, which left us with the dilemma of whether or not to attack it. Being in high sec, the answer was no, but if the Orca was going into the wormhole, we could get away with it there. A fat bellied Orca always meant isk, though the pirating nature of the attack Nathan was discussing didn’t sit well with me at the time. My friend had changed since leaving the militia.

I opened a conversation with the Orca pilot. Turned out he was just leaving the wormhole, his gang having just made a successful run against the Sleepers. We were welcome to explore if we wanted, but he assured me we wouldn’t find anything.

I relayed this to Nathan, whom decided the pilot might be less than truthful, and we entered the wormhole.

Once on the other side, we quickly warped to different locations, scanning all the while for other capsuleers, as well as the nefarious Sleepers.

“I’ve got a lot of wrecks on scan.” I said, seeing that the Sleepers had indeed encountered the Orca pilot’s friends.

“Roger that. Looks like the Orca pilot was right; this place has been picked clean. Let’s head out.” Nathan said.

Several systems later, Nathan scanned down another wormhole. This time as we arrived, a single Jaguar pilot was sitting in front of it.

After some friendly conversation, it turned out he had been scanning this region as well, but everything had already been scavenged. We invited him to our fleet, but he declined, a little disappointed at having the last several hours looking for a fresh wormhole without success.

We wished him well and continued on our way to the next system on our route.

Jackpot.

Sleeper facilities everywhere with plenty of Sleepers to engage. We had them on scan, but before jumping in, Nathan took the time to brief me on our aggression strategy.

After getting charged up about the impending assault, I did one more quick scan of the Sleeper facility, and quickly aborted the warp cycle I had began.

“Abort!” I yelled into comms. Thankfully, Nathan was quick, and prevented his ship from entering warp.

“Two Ravens, a Dominix, and Broadsword just showed up on scan, probably in that Sleeper facility.” I said, thinking how fortunate we had been to have not been caught already engaged when they arrived.

“Dammit!” Nathan said. “I swear it’s not usually like this. Of course, we are only go in one level deep, looking for class 1 and 2. Nobody bothers you when you get to class 4 and higher.”

I looked at my chrono. I had to report for duty in five hours.

“I hate to say it, Nate, but I think I’m gonna have to call it. Gotta report for duty in five hours, so need my beauty sleep. We’ll do this again though, ok?”

“Yeah, we will. Next time we’ll have more luck. That I promise.” Nate replied, anger and disappointment in his voice.

We said our goodbyes, and I docked the Hurricane in Hek, grabbing Vigil I had recently fitted based on a recommendation from General Sasawong, and headed back to Dal.

—

AUGA SYSTEM

My engineers were working swiftly at locking down the Major Minmatar Stronghold. They had been attacked recently by the Amarr, and were in need of repair. Failure to do so would result in the Amarr being able to pass through Auga unmolested, and that wasn’t acceptable.

They estimated just over four more minutes to complete their task.

There were a few other TLF pilots in the area with me: a Rifter, a Stabber, and a Reaper of all things. We weren’t working as a fleet; I had scanned down this complex, discovering their communications array had been destroyed, and broadcast its location on the local overview. The other pilots had quickly flocked here for the opportunity to earn some honour through potential battle.

They wouldn’t have to wait long. A single Rifter entered our location, and my HUD immediately flagged him as neutral. In a warzone, neuts were never to be trusted.

Nobody moved towards him, so I took the initiative. After all, it was my engineers aboard the stronghold.

I prepped my single autocannon and missle launcher, launching a lone Warrior II drone to engage him. I had no scambling or webbing capabilities, but if I could frighten him off, that was all I needed really.

Of course, in hindsight, if the sight of the aforementioned ships didn’t scare off a single Rifter, that either meant he had more company coming, or was a complete idiot.

Turned out to be the latter.

My Vigil wasn’t really built for DPS, or tackling, it was strictly a small tank for plexing. Still, with some overheating and the Warrior II, I was slowly taking him down.

What amazed me the most is that he wasn’t leaving, even as he entered hull; nor did he target my drone, at least not until the very end.

He just kept pursuing me, his shots skimming off my shields effortlessly. I was stunned, still anticipating the arrival of more ships, but none came.

His ship exploded, but as I said, no scramming capability, so his pod escaped to fight another day.

Examining his wreck revealed the following:

  • 150mm Light Autocannon II
  • 5W Infectious Power System Malfunction
  • J5b Phased Protoype Warp Scrambler
  • Gyrostabilizer II
  • Damage Control II

What the hell? Regardless, I was cautiously thankful for the victory, and proceeded to retrieve my engineers.

Just another day of war I suppose.

200th Post Extravaganza!!!

Posted by Roc Wieler on

Wow, hard to believe it’s been 200 posts already. Thank you for making this possible and joining me in this 200th post extravaganza! <audience applause>

It’s been an interesting journey thus far, and these last few weeks have been particularly tumultuous. Where will things go from here? I’m as interested as anyone else to find out! <audience applause>

But before we venture into the future, let’s take a look at the past, and see where we’ve been, and what we’ve learned. <audience applause>

Current Stats

  • Roc’s Ramblings currently receives over 15,000 views per month
  • The 1,000 view in a single day benchmark was broken on April 16th, 2009
  • The single most viewed post is Capsuleer iPhone Release Candidate – 1,716 views
  • The single most non Capsuleer related post is A Beacon Beckons – 1,347 views
  • The least viewed post is Roc’s Rule #176 – Breasts are insanely complicated – 3 views
  • My top (and only) heckler is Sard Caid – Congratulations Sard!
  • My top referrer is Life in Low Sec – 1,903 referrals! That’s what happens when I ride on the coattails of the greatness that is Mynxee

Blog Lessons

At the end of the day, I write this blog for me, and me alone. However, I must admit it’s been nice having an audience that has appreciated my efforts.

Some subjects are of interest to my readers, others are not. Short stories, novellas, artwork, these tend to be the things my readers enjoy. Recipes don’t seem to be a favourite, and yet they will continue! <audience applause>

So what I have learned from being a first time blog author? A great deal indeed. Let’s take a look. <audience applause>

  • People don’t like polls
  • People do like guides
  • Using tags is good
  • Promoting post titles for the blogrolls instead of Roc’s Rule #xxx is a much better idea(thanks again Mynxee)
  • People like artwork
  • People like artwork involving breasts even more
  • People demand more action figures
  • People demand Mynxee and Roc get it on!<audience applause>

The Future

So what comes next? Well, let’s take a look at the things I have on the go; I’m sure there will be something of interest! <audience applause>

  • Path to Freedom, EVE Online Novel
  • One Night of Roc, music CD available in August 2009
  • The Colonel and the Pirate, collaborative novella with Mynxee
  • Capsuleer 2.x, the definitive iPhone tool for EVE Online
  • Personalized 3D action figures of YOUR character in exchange for ISK <audience applause>
  • More short stories
  • More recipes
  • MOAR ROC! <audience applause>

Final Thoughts

Yes, it’s been a good ride thus far, and looks to be really only beginning. I invite you to continue to experience this adventure with me in this universe we call New Eden. There is always so much to do, so much to learn, new friends to make and kill, and of course, self introspection. <audience applause>

—

“I can’t believe I overslept!” I said, scrambling out of bed. I looked for my shirt on my dresser, sleep dazed for a moment until I realized I wasn’t in my quarters. I heard Kainda stretching behind me, small purrs escaping her mouth as I had inadvertently woken her.

I found my shirt on the floor in a far corner of the room, and began dressing quickly, trying to get one foot into a boot while pulling my shirt on. It didn’t work out exactly as I had envisioned in my head.

“Need a hand there, tiger?” Kainda said, reclining on the bed, the thin sheet barely covering her silky skin. I took her in fully, once my shirt was on, feeling her sultry smile and come hither stare penetrate me, stirring my loins. She leaned over onto her back, the swell of her full breasts reaching skyward, enticing me further to come and partake.

“I would,” I began, tying my one boot, “But I can’t late. Duty is duty.” I had used that line a thousand times before, to impress whatever woman I had happened to bed the previous night, and also as an excuse to make my exit, but this time it was true. I had been summoned by the Sanmatar, the request to my NeoCom requiring the highest level of clearance to view.

The message itself had been short:

<START>

Colonel Roc Wieler. Your presence is required at the office of the Sanmatar at 0500 hours. This is not an optional request. Failure to comply will result in military contempt and imprisonment.

<END>

It had obviously not been written by the Sanmatar himself, and seemed a tad threatening, but not everyone was good with their communication skills. Still, it did seem odd, and I tried to imagine what was going on that would require such strong wording and a meeting at such an ungodly hour.

“Will I see you again?” Kainda asked, a small cuteness in her voice.

“Universe is a small place.” I replied. I wasn’t one for relationships, never had been. Mynxee was the exception of course. There was obviously something between us, more than just physical, but it was unsure, uncertain, and definitely didn’t warrant any commitment.

I gave Kainda a quick kiss on the lips, which turned into several minutes of intense petting and making out, finally extricating myself from her grasp and running out the door. Hot women were going to be the death of me.

Arriving at the Sanmatar’s office slightly out of breath, and covered in old lipstick, I pulled a wipe from my jacket pocket and freshened up as best I could.

The two guards standing on either side of the Sanmatar’s door was an ominous beginning to this meeting. Usually, I would just knock on the door, and Maleatu would invite me in; clearly that day would be different.

I informed one of the two guards of my identity, which was verified, and after briefly speaking into his aural implant, the door was opened for me to enter the room.

As I walked in, I could feel the heaviness in the air, and knew in my gut something bad had happened. Maleatu wasn’t his usual smiling self, and was in the middle of conversation with two council members I didn’t know personally, as well my top ranking escort squad leaders. Daul Halwick looked my way, uncertainty on his eyes, and I nodded to him in reassurance, trying to play things as casual and “normal” as possible.

“Colonel, please have a seat.” Sanmatar Shakor gestured to a nearby chair as he finished his conversation with the council members. I assumed they would’ve left, but they didn’t, seating themselves in adjacent chairs to me. Daul took a standing position behind me and to the right, the other escort behind me and to the left.

I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and my knuckles turning white, the blood starting to rush through my veins a little faster in anticipation of something dreadful about to occur. I quickly went over my activities of the last few weeks in my mind, trying to see where someone could’ve interjected speculation into my accounting of things, some aspect I had overlooked that could now be used against me.

I wasn’t a pessimist. I was simply pragmatic. Hope for the best, expect the worst. If I didn’t think of the absolute worse scenarios, I wouldn’t be able to react quickly and efficiently when even worse things occured.

“Colonel,” Maleatu began, his voice sounding uncomfortably formal. “I requested the presence of Councilman Traithe and Councilman Arbor this morning as witnesses to this meeting, and I apologize for the early hour; it was the only opening in my schedule today I’m afraid.”

There was no smile on my friend’s face. I could feel myself growing more tense. I nodded to the Sanmatar, acknowledging his words, but not offering up any of my own. There were times it was better to sit quietly and observe than to speak foolishly. This was one of those times.

The Sanmatar turned his back on me, gathering some documents on his desk, all the while talking. “Your anti-pirate initiative has encountered tremendous success. You are to be commended for that.” Maleatu said, turning his attention back to me once again, a small hint of a smile on his lips. “”Our squads have captured or killed many of the region’s outlaws, and morale amongst the general militia troops has drastically improved. Well done, Colonel.”

The two councilmen plastered fake smiles across their lips, clapping in unison for the exact same duration, then stopping, the smiles falling from their faces as quickly as they had appeared. It looked perfectly rehearsed a thousand times over.

“The council has been concerned by the additional expenditures during a time of war, and I’ve had to rationalize it to them on your behalf.” Maleatu continued, the unspoken words not being missed. He knew I had no experience with accounting or asset management, and I was thankful for his intercession.

“They have finally come to agree with my assessment as to the necessity of continuing this intiative, and given our most recent victory, have happily signed off on continuing the exercise.” Maleatu said.

Recent victory? As head of this operation I micro-managed just about every aspect of it. I didn’t necessarily have to be involved in every detail, I just liked to know everything that was going on at all times, who was doing their job, who was doing just enough to get by without being discharged from the op, even who was profiting a little on the side, though they weren’t aware yet that I knew.

What was he referring to?

The Sanmatar threw a docket onto my lap, but my gaze never left his. “One of our fleets has been very active in Evati system lately, the results of these pushes into pirate infested territory being that one of the local bandit groups has opted to relocate to Kourmonen.”

I only knew of two pirate groups operating out of Evati: The Bastards and the Hellcats, Mynxee’s corporation. My heart began pushing against my ribcage. I quickly glanced down at the closed docket, hesitant to open it.

The Sanmatar continued, “While enroute to their new ‘home’, we managed to coordinate with the militia and intercept some of their pilots, cutting them off from their main force. While there were casulties on both sides, this could now be considered a turning point in our war against terrorism. That’s what we were discussing when you arrived.”

I could sense Daul tensing slightly, his heavysuit making his movements easier to hear. I could feel a lump forming in my throat, and my heart continued to race, threatening to burst free. Casulties? Who had died? Had I known them? I found myself more concerned for my friends, even though they were pirates, than for the brave men and women of the militia that had also perished. I felt great shame at that.

“Please, Colonel. We need your input on this one. While you are strictly denied any access to this prisoner, your past experiences with her will prove invaluable to us. She’s proven quite resistant to interrogation thus far, but we know you will provide the answer.” Maleatu gestured towards the docket once again.

I couldn’t breathe. My hands wouldn’t respond to the commands of my brain, shaking and moving slowly towards the docket on my lap. I could feel the adrenaline pumping through me. I could feel the fear and outrage rising within me. I was terrified of whom it would be, yet also hopeful it was her; at least then I knew she was alive. I could feel my anger in the vein on my forehead; if she was alive and being ‘interrogated’ behind my back, I wasn’t sure what I would be capable of.

Finally, I opened the docket cover, and saw Mynxee’s face looking back at me.

Last one out get the lights

Posted by Roc Wieler on

I stood at the front doorway of Freeform Industries from the inside, looking out. All the lights had been dimmed, all the cubicles and offices cleared out.

I breathed heavily, my sigh echoing throughout the empty hallways of our once proud corporation facility. It was never easy saying goodbye to the place you’d worked for the last year. It wasn’t the job, jobs came and went, it was the people. People always managed to make an impact on me, and closing this chapter of my life meant leaving behind some people that meant a great deal to me.

Would I ever see them again? Perhaps. Regardless of how big the universe was, it often seemed very small sometimes.

I stepped into the light of the main corridor, the symbolism of darkness to light not lost on me. I turned to face the Freeform main doorway as it slid closed for the last time.

“Engage security protocal X-12H, authorization Wieler C286T71.”

I could hear the door seal, heavy deadbolts locking into place. I took my sunglasses off, and moved towards the retinal scanner.

“Revoke roles and privileges, Roc Wieler, authorization Wieler E7Gamma2.”

“Are you sure?” Aura responded.

I had made up my mind. It was time to move on. There was simply nothing left to hold onto here.

“Yes.”

“Termination of employee 87, Colonel Roc Wieler, complete.” Aura replied.

“Take care of yourself.” I said to the doorway, realizing I was being a sentimental fool.

I slung my tote bag over my shoulder and walked towards the nearest pub. The bag had my final few corporate belongings, small mementos I had collected during my time at Freeform.

An hour later, I was lost in melancholic revelry, enjoying my beer(s), contemplating my next step. I knew where I wanted to be; I just wasn’t sure how to get there.

It reminded me of a lesson Master Cho had taught me as a slave child many years before…

“But if I choose the first path, Master, I will miss out on what the second path has to offer.” I said, working through my logic verbally. Master Cho was strict and harsh, but I knew he appreciated the process as much as the end results. By demonstrating my ability to work through an issue, he would hopefully be impressed.

We stood at a fork in the road. The surrounding area was beautifully forested, dense enough to not reveal what lay at the end of each path before me, but promising to be pleasant enough either way.

“Yet if I take the second path, I will miss out on what the first has to offer. Hmmm.” I scrunched up my brow in deep thought, as I had often seen Master Cho when concentrating on an issue.

“Maybe there is no wrong choice.” I said, turning to see Master Cho standing behind me, arms crossed, a stern look on his face. He was a visual reminder that going back was obviously not a choice; that I would have to move forward.

“Or perhaps there is no right choice. That is the wonder of mystery.” Master Cho replied.

I turned back towards the two paths, looking for some indication of which direction I should choose for myself.

The path to the left seemed more well-trodden, perhaps a trade path used by local merchants. If that were the case, there would be food and gifts at the next stop along the route. At the same time, trade routes often beggared bandits and vagrants, set on stealing or begging for your hard earned money.

The path to the right had a gentle breeze, which indicated some type of water; perhaps a waterfall or lake. I didn’t see any gulls in the sky which was often an indication of a waterline, so wasn’t sure of my assessment. This path winded quickly, not giving me much of a view to ascertain at all.

“So which path will you choose, dog?” Master Cho demanded from behind me.

“I choose neither, Master. I have not sufficient knowledge of either, and therefore it would be foolish of me to engage down either unknown path without first gathering more information. So I will stand here, and query any passers by to make a more informed decision.” I said confident I had passed this test.

Master Cho smiled with satisfaction as he approached me, and for once, I felt I had measured up to what he expected of me. A quick backhand corrected that misconception.

“Young fool!” he barked, in a sudden rage. “By choosing neither path you miss out on the opportunity of both! No decision is the most pathetic decision of all. All life moves in two directions; it is either growing or dying, moving forward or decaying. Standing still is not natural.”

I did my best not to cry. I had tried so hard to please him, to impress him just once.

It wasn’t until many years later that I learned the man was simply unpleasable.

“Wish I could kill you again, Cho.” I said, raising my beer to my lips.

“What was that?” a female voice said from my side.

I turned and saw a Brutor female standing beside me, smiling, her red hair flowing freely around her face. At first my heart leapt, thinking it was Mynxee, but it wasn’t. How many red headed vixens were in this universe? Sheesh.

“Nothing, just remembering someone I’d rather not.” I replied glumly.

She arched her eyebrow in that way all women seem to, appraising me. “Well aren’t you the man of mystery and intrigue?” she said, sitting down in an empty chair at my table.

She stuck her hand out towards me. “Kainda Gordo, pleasure to meet you. Hope you don’t mind a little company.”

She was far too pleasant and chipper for my mood, but I wasn’t one to turn away the companionship of a beautiful woman. I took her hand in mine, noting the strength behind her grip, and introduced myself.

“Roc Wieler.” I grunted.

“Now where do I know that name from?” she said, a flirtatious smile on her face, inviting me to share more.

I simplly shrugged, taking another sip of my beer.

Today I was just another man. Today I was without a paying job. Today was just another day in another bar in another system in the universe.

Kainda leaned over on her elbows, staring intently into my face. “I think someone needs some cheering up, and you’re lucky; I’m just the right girl for the job.”

She smiled again, and I was forced to chuckle at her confidence.

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad day after all. I ordered us both a round of beer, choosing at least the temporary path before me.

The Places I’ve Been

Posted by Roc Wieler on

I’m not slow to understand. I’m not too good to participate in group activites. I’m not too stupid to know the word “meme”. I simply struggle with relevancy sometimes.

Who really wants to know where I’ve been? Do people care? My enemies might, but doubtful. My readers? Why would it matter?

So I’ve struggled over this far more than I should’ve. It clearly was a “Do it” or “Don’t do it” decision. But like the guy who arrives at the party just as its ending, here’s my images showing where I’ve been.

ORIGINAL IDEA POST

WhereIBeenSurprised to see some nullsec in there? I know I was, then I remembered my beginnings in New Eden.

When I first escaped slavery, I headed for Hrober, a nice little 0.3 system with a lot to do insystem.

Of course, being new, I had no idea what I was doing, and found myself without a ship a lot.

Finally speaking with someone in local, and trusting them enough to know what they were talking about, I started on my adventures as a Nullsec scavenger, stealing cans from ships during big PVP battles before anyone really noticed I was there. This was before the days of wrecks when everything was cans.

I made some good profit doing this, but after a few short weeks came to realize scavenging wasn’t the life for me.

From there, I headed to Empire, found myself a good corporation, and started missioning, though looking back now, I should’ve just stayed in Hrober.

whereIBeenDetailNot surprisingly, most of my time has been spent in Heimatar Region, the Heart of the Republic some would say.

It is from here that I have built up wealth, ships, influence, and power. It is from Minmatar space that I have launched myself into the interweb and beyond.

I can’t see myself leaving this area again in the forseeable future, but will do what is required of me to best serve the needs of the Republic, as always.

Sorry for the short posts recently. I’ve been ill and haven’t been able to shake it. I’m heading back to the doctor again this morning to see what can be done.

I don’t normally share things like this, but it’s really starting to concern me, and I would ask that you remember me in your thoughts and prayers.

Thank you.

A Turning Tide

Posted by Roc Wieler on

“The Caldari Militia have taken the last remaining system controlled by their Gallentean foes. Mercomesier fell last Sunday following a coordinated attack on the system’s control bunker…” I turned off the vidscreen.

We both sat in silence, contemplating the Caldari victory. Any of the possible scenarios running through my mind had dire consequences.

If we needed to aid our Gallentean allies, we would be spreading ourselves even thinner, something the Amarr would certainly seize upon. Any number of the pirate factions would take advantage of the opportunity regardless. Then there were the Thukkers, the Starkmanir, and the Nefantar tribes to consider. How would they react to our dispersion of forces so close to the assembly summit the Sanmatar had recently called for? Would it be seen as another sign of weakness from a leader they didn’t possess confidence in?

And what if we didn’t lend ourselves to the Gallente? Surely with interplanetary defenses down, the Caldari would push forward with an invasion force, claiming sovereignty over Gallente space. With their war ended, they would only be in a position of greater strength to further assist the Amarr in dealing with us. It could mean the end of the Republic.

I gazed down into my glass at the fine cognac I had been unconsciously swirling about within it. The sweet aroma of my burning cigar filled my nostrils, and I looked to the ceramic ashtray I had laid it across before disengaging the vidscreen. It was the first time I had smoked, and I had to admit, it was enjoyable.

The days ahead would be perilous for all of New Eden, I decided; nothing was going to remain the same. It was frightening, change; who really welcomed it if they were honest with themselves? We were all creatures of habit and safe routine; none of us really pushed beyond our comfort bubbles by choice. What did that say about us as people? What did that say about me?

To some, I knew I came across as self-centered, arrogant, narcissistic. To others it was seen as bravado to overcompensate for obvious insecurities. Yet to others still I was just some socially awkward Brutor who thought a bit too highly of himself, but really was a threat to nobody save myself. I was curious to know which perceptions were the accurate ones.

Had I lost myself somewhere along the way? Had I been so consumed by the journey that I had forgotten why I started it in the first place? Was the task at hand so pressing that my own needs and wants were cast aside without second thought?

Who was I anymore?

Sure, I could justify myself by saying my past experiences forged me into who I was, but again, if we’re open and raw with ourselves we have to admit that our histories are no excuse; we alone have the power to define who we are and who we shall be. Don’t we? 

Or did the Amarr have it right? Was it all divine providence? Was there some God that had pre-planned our lives and we were really just along for the ride? I supposed for some that could be a worry free way to live, but not for me. For me, it just expunged guilt, justified wrong choices, assuaged hypocritical people that lived what they believed in word only, but not with the heart of their actions.

I looked down at my uniform; I was wearing my formals. Across my chest were my military decorations.

Medal of GarmrThe Medal of Garmr

Awarded for actions above and beyond the call of duty defending the Minmatar Republic. Historically worn by the Protector Guardians of the Republic, a defunct order created around the mythos of Garmr, the demon dog that guarded the gates of Hel, devouring any whom crossed its path.

The Sanmatar awarded me this medal personally, and it gave me great pride to wear it emblazoned across my breast. It was the first time in a hundred years this citation had been awarded in the Republic.

Freeform RangerEternal FreeForm Ranger

This medal was created by elite scientists hired from unknown territory. Some speculate that these advanced beings come from Jove territory.

This medal is awarded for true loyalty and service given to the corporation. It is believed to have other functions as well, though only the future will see what lies in store.

 

Cytral pinned that to my chest just the other day, a final token of appreciation for every effort I had made with respect to the corporation.

colonelMatar Colonel

Matar Colonel is a senior commissioned rank in the Tribal Liberation Force. It ranks above Voshud Major and immediately below Valklear General.

“War is within our hearts. It is a raging beast which we must harness lest it consume us.”

– teaching of Valla.

For me, it had never been about the number of awards, nor the recognition of achievement from peers. Yet still I appreciated the gestures, understanding their symbolic significance to others, respecting the tradition behind them. 

I hadn’t thought of the teachings of Valla in a long while, but it still rang true to me. Maybe that is who I was, a raging beast that unleashed his fears and aggression outwardly lest it consume me inwardly. Seemed rather weak and cowardly.

I returned my focus to the greater news at hand. Really, who I was, or who I wasn’t didn’t matter at the end of the day. Whether a Capsuleer, a Colonel, or nothing at all, my life was as valuable and as worthless as anyone else’s if we didn’t all work together in the coming months. 

“Tell me your thoughts, my friend.” Maleatu said from the chair beside me, pulling me from my own heavy self-instrospection.

We had been sitting together discussing the upcoming Republic Tribal Assembly, him mostly running ideas off of me. Apparently my blunt honesty made for a good sounding board, and I enjoyed the Sanmatar’s company. He had quickly become as a mentor to me, but also something more, perhaps a role model? Or a hero?

His tales of his past adventures always invigorated me to do better, always pushing me back to tweaking more precise ship configurations, always referencing territorial maps, enemy strengths, forming new strategies for our militia to use against them.

The man was a living legend, and quite simply, I was humbled around him. He didn’t treat me any differently than he treated anyone else, and I think that was the key. I was just another man to him, and he was as respectful to me as he would be to a homeless vagrant on the streets of Matar. That was made the Sanmatar so attractive to the Republic. He was the epitomy of the “Every man”. 

I shared my thoughts with him, my own inner struggles with identity and direction, my hesitation towards embracing a future I was unsure of. We discussed the offers I had received from General Fist to join Tribal Core, from the Ushra’Khan to stand with fellow Minmatar Loyalists, and from ex-militia Fleet Commander Stoogie, whom himself was working towards a tribal unification strategy. 

Maleatu shared his insights with me about these things, as well as his interpretations of the events at Mercomesier, all over cigars and cognac.

The hours passed effortlessly, both of us lost in the companionship of the other. As some merry laughter subsided, he leaned in his chair towards me and said, “You will have to decide your path soon, Colonel, and it may not be one you had ever previously considered. You still have much to learn about this universe, and I encourage you to embrace as much of it as possible, it will only be an asset to you later on your path. Utilize your full potential.”

I chewed on his words, as I often did, slowly drawing on my cigar, letting the savoury flavour linger in my mouth. Finally, I nodded, relaxing further into the chair.

As a joke, I said out loud, “Who knows Maleatu? Perhaps even one day I’ll want your job.” 

The laughter on the edge of my lips was held at bay by his quick and decisive response.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Colonel.”

Vintage Roc

Posted by Roc Wieler on

SISIEDE SYSTEM

“Alright ladies, split and scan the planets. I’ll take P1.” I said, quickly aligning my Rifter class frigate, the Ripsack, towards Sisiede I.

As the stars elongated around me, Seraphine, a pilot in my small squad chirped in. “Um, sir, with all due respect, wouldn’t it make more sense to just drop a probe in system and do it that way?”

I could hear the snickering from the others, though they were smart enough not to thumb their comms. Probes? I didn’t even know you could use probes for this, let alone knew how to use them myself.

“Of course that would make more sense, Seraphine. I was just testing you all. Well done.” I said, the lie sounding as obvious to them as it did to me.

“Thank you, sir.” Seraphine replied instantly, full professionalism in her voice. “Do I get a gold star?” she added after a moment’s hesitation.

“That will be quite enough, pilot.” I stammered, my ship slowing from warp at Sisiede I.

“Seraphine, since you’re the mouth of this operation, you’re in charge while I head back to Dal and fit a Core Probe Launcher.” I said, feeling incredibly noobish at the entire situation.

I had started the morning feeling exhilirated to be back on the frontlines, now that I was free from my corporate responsibilities. It was liberating really, though I hoped Cytral and the others found new homes for themselves. For me, it gave the opportunity to solely focus on the war effort, to take the fight to the Amarr, to be counted amongst those making a difference for the liberation of our people.

Now, I felt like an old dog trying to learn a new trick. Still, if you couldn’t adapt, you’d die, and I wasn’t ready for that either.

—

DAL SYSTEM

“I don’t know, isn’t that your job?” I yelled at my crew chief, whom was complaining about fitting the probe launcher onto the frigate. 

Getting a core probe launcher had been easy; figuring out how to use it was proving a little more problematic.

“Just give me the blasted manual then!” I screamed, my voice feeling hoarse. I had been under the weather the last few days, a rarity really, with the benefits of a healthy lifestyle and the wonders of modern medicine.

Twenty minutes later, I had learned the basics of astrometics, and how to fit the damn module to my ship, and working with my mechanics, quickly had it in place.

We loaded up five probes into the launcher, and I was on my way back to Sisiede.

—

SISIEDE SYSTEM

“What do you mean you’re finished here and have moved on to Auga?” I asked somewhat impatiently. “Did you not feel the need to tell me the fleet had changed position?” I asked.

—

AUGA SYSTEM

“Probe showing one minor installation, sending coordinates to fleet overview…now.” I said, warping my Rifter towards the complex.

Our engineers quickly made short work of the facility, and ten minutes later, we had secured the system. A cheer went up in the militia channel upon that report, and I had noticed things had even changed there as well since last I had flown regularly.

I was positive spies and the like still existed within our network, but I noticed a much higher level of activity and morale amongst our pilots; more coordinated efforts against both the Amarr and the opportunistic pirates that had been plaguing our systems for many months now. 

The Heretics in particular were becoming a nuisance, but recently one of the TLF fleet commanders had been launching larger ship initiatives against their stations. 

I could feel the momentum of the war shifting in my bones. 

Several defensive systems later, our borders were secure. I thanked my pilots and dismissed them.

—

ASGHER SYSTEM

“Yeah, I got a probe hit, Q.” I said to Qanatas, an old wingmate I hadn’t flown with in over a year, but happened to run into earlier that day. “You should really try probe launchers; can read an entire system in ten seconds instead of manually scanning down each planet.”

“Yeah, I’ll try me that for sure, Colonel. Thanks for the tip.” he replied.

We entered the acceleration gate together, noticing the squad of Amarr frigates protecting the installation. 

“I’ll engage the hostiles, you get your engineers onboard that complex.” I said, already surging forward towards the enemy.

“Roger.” Q replied, holding back until I was aggressed, which didn’t take long.

The Amarr quickly called for reinforcements, and I soon found myself intertwined within a swarm of twenty four frigates. I gave a silent thanks to Wensley; this latest Rifter armour tank configuration I was flying was holding up very well against the damage I was taking. 

Ten minutes later, we had achieved victory. Qanatas quickly collected his engineers, and after watching him safely warp away, did the same, leaving the remaining enemy frigates behind, denying them the chance of defeating me.

—

TARARAN SYSTEM

“Ok, got another hit. Let’s move in.” I said to Q and Rushur, another able pilot that had proven his worth to me over the last few days.

“I’ll keep my Rupture watching the gate, but I’m too big to squeeze through there and assist, Colonel.” Rushur said.

“No problem at all.” I replied. “Keep a safe distance please.”

“Roger that.” Rushur replied, his Rupture already angling away from the gate.

“You ready Q?” I asked.

“Ready as ever.” he replied.

We warped through the gate, and once again I took towards the enemy, Q’s engineers on standby for the complex.

Six minutes in, we received a warning from Rushur. “Two Battlecruisers and a Battleship out here. They’re not going to be able to get in to you, but if you need to warp out, you won’t be going back through this gate.”

“Understood.” I replied.

My shields had failed long ago, and my armour repair systems were slowly losing the battle this time around. Seemed we were only going to get this one shot, so I would hold out as long as I possibly could.

“Get your engineers moving double time, Q.” I said, subtly letting him know the status of my ship.

“Wouldn’t ya know it would be the Minmatar hiding their frigs in a minor installation?” one of the pirates at the acceleration gate spoke into the local system channel. “Had six of your pilots run away from me earlier today when I was poking around. Seems you’re all the skittish type.”

There was ignorant laughter in the channel from his wingmates, typical of pirates flying big ships to overcompensate for other smaller attributes. I’m speaking about intelligence of course. And penis size.

“Yeah, he’s right Q. We should take our two Rifters against his two BCs and BS, plus whatever additional support he’d need to beat us.” I said with arrogance into the local channel.

“Well, at least let them get their allies forewarned; got to make it a fair fight and all.” Qanatas chimed in. “Besides, you don’t look like you’re quite into hull yet, Colonel. Might want to wait a little longer so they have a chance.”

“Hull, Q? Forget that. Podtank FTW!” I yelled in my greatest battlecry.

“Har, har.” the original mercenary replied. “You’re very funny in the safety of your little complex. Why don’t you come out here and boast?”

“Or” I began, “Why don’t you get some ships that take some skill to fly and come in here and teach us some manners?”

“Two minutes remaining, Colonel.” Q noted to me in fleet comms.

“They’re moving off the gate.” Rushur mentioned. “Probably going to buy and fit some frigs.”

That made us all chuckle.

We finished the complex, comprimising another Amarr system, and made haste for Dal, laughing all the way.

—

AMAMAKE SYSTEM

“Hostiles inbound!” Stoogie shouted over the military channel. “Multiple WTs on Oso gate in Ama. Tics everywhere!”

The Heretics weren’t happy with our recent counter-aggression towards them. Meanwhile, another, larger TLF fleet was in motion.

“Got room for four more, BS and higher, then we’re a full POS killing fleet. X up now.”

Numerous Xs appeared in the militia channel.

I overheated my weapons, my autocannons tearing the final pieces of hull off a Punisher, and watched as the enemy’s pod slipped through my grasp.

“Watch yourself, Roc, you’ve got a Falcon closing range fast!” Mutnir shouted in fleet. 

“Affirmative, moving in for the tackle. Gonna need some help here.” I replied calmly, angling towards the oncoming Falcon.

Mutnir laughed. “You’re insane, Colonel, but I got your back.”

I smiled as I snagged the Falcon, scramming its warp drive, my statis webbifier slowing it to a manageable transverse velocity.

Old dog or not, it was good to be back on the frontlines, doing what I do best.

“Hey Mutnir,” I said, mirth in my voice. “Did you know you can use probe launchers for scanning plexes?”

Meat

Posted by Roc Wieler on

By Terry Bisson

“They’re made out of meat.” 
     
“Meat?” 
     
“Meat. They’re made out of meat.” 
     
“Meat?” 
     
“There’s no doubt about it. We picked up several from different parts of the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, and probed them all the way through. They’re completely meat.” 
     
“That’s impossible. What about the radio signals? The messages to the stars?” 
     
“They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don’t come from them. The signals come from machines.” 
     
“So who made the machines? That’s who we want to contact.” 
     
“They made the machines. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Meat made the machines.” 
     
“That’s ridiculous. How can meat make a machine? You’re asking me to believe in sentient meat.” 
     
“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. These creatures are the only sentient race in that sector and they’re made out of meat.” 
     
“Maybe they’re like the orfolei. You know, a carbon-based intelligence that goes through a meat stage.” 
     
“Nope. They’re born meat and they die meat. We studied them for several of their life spans, which didn’t take long. Do you have any idea what’s the life span of meat?” 
     
“Spare me. Okay, maybe they’re only part meat. You know, like the weddilei. A meat head with an electron plasma brain inside.” 
     
“Nope. We thought of that, since they do have meat heads, like the weddilei. But I told you, we probed them. They’re meat all the way through.” 
     
“No brain?” 
     
“Oh, there’s a brain all right. It’s just that the brain is made out of meat! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” 
     
“So … what does the thinking?”
     
“You’re not understanding, are you? You’re refusing to deal with what I’m telling you. The brain does the thinking. The meat.” 
     
“Thinking meat! You’re asking me to believe in thinking meat!” 
     
“Yes, thinking meat! Conscious meat! Loving meat. Dreaming meat. The meat is the whole deal! Are you beginning to get the picture or do I have to start all over?” 
     
“Omigod. You’re serious then. They’re made out of meat.” 
     
“Thank you. Finally. Yes. They are indeed made out of meat. And they’ve been trying to get in touch with us for almost a hundred of their years.” 
     
“Omigod. So what does this meat have in mind?” 
     
“First it wants to talk to us. Then I imagine it wants to explore New Eden, contact other sentiences, swap ideas and information. The usual.” 

“We’re supposed to talk to meat.” 
     
“That’s the idea. That’s the message they’re sending out by radio. ‘Hello. Anyone out there. Anybody home.’ That sort of thing.” 
     
“They actually do talk, then. They use words, ideas, concepts?” 
     
“Oh, yes. Except they do it with meat.” 
     
“I thought you just told me they used radio.” 
     
“They do, but what do you think is on the radio? Meat sounds. You know how when you slap or flap meat, it makes a noise? They talk by flapping their meat at each other. They can even sing by squirting air through their meat.”
     
“Omigod. Singing meat. This is altogether too much. So what do you advise?” 
     
“Officially or unofficially?” 
     
“Both.” 
     
“Officially, we are required to contact, welcome and log in any and all sentient races or multibeings in this quadrant of the Universe, without prejudice, fear or favour. Unofficially, I advise that we erase the records and forget the whole thing.” 
     
“I was hoping you would say that.” 
     
“It seems harsh, but there is a limit. Do we really want to make contact with meat?” 
     
“I agree one hundred percent. What’s there to say? ‘Hello, meat. How’s it going?’ But will this work? How many planets are we dealing with here?” 
     
“Just one. They can travel to other planets in special meat containers, but they can’t live on them. And being meat, they can only travel through C space. Which limits them to the speed of light and makes the possibility of their ever making contact pretty slim. Infinitesimal, in fact.” 
     
“So we just pretend there’s no one home in the Universe.” 
     
“That’s it.” 
     
“Cruel. But you said it yourself, who wants to meet meat? And the ones who have been aboard our vessels, the ones you probed? You’re sure they won’t remember?” 
     
“They’ll be considered crackpots if they do. We went into their heads and smoothed out their meat so that we’re just a dream to them.” 
     
“A dream to meat! How strangely appropriate, that we should be meat’s dream.”
     
“And we marked the entire sector unoccupied.” 
     
“Good. Agreed, officially and unofficially. Case closed. Any others? Anyone else interesting on this side of the galaxy?” 
     
“Yes, a rather shy but sweet hydrogen core cluster intelligence in a class nine star in G445 zone. Was in contact two galactic rotations ago, wants to be friendly again.” 
     
“They always come around.” 
     
“And why not? Imagine how unbearably, how unutterably cold New Eden would be if one were all alone …”