Apparently I don’t follow good internet protocol; I now use [OOC] to officially indicate I am speaking out of character. I figured OOC was enough of an indication, but hey, what do I know?

I digress.

Since mentioning PyjamaSam and I will be attending Fanfest this year, I’ve seen a lot of fellow EVE Bloggers post that they too will be at the party. Additionally, I’ve also received some emails, instant messages, etc, etc, asking how anyone will know who I am?

I thought maybe I could wear a big “My name is Roc” badge (do they do anything like that already?) and that might make it easier.

One of my regular readers joked that I’m probably either the skinny scared kid in the corner or the big fat guy at the buffet.

Wrong on both counts.

I’ve decided to break the internet/reality barrier for this special occasion and post some pictures of the real me. Even gonna post it early for my friends in the UK.

See you at Fanfest.

I was getting sick of Sister Alitura. The more I dug my heels in to finish her mundane tasks, the more frustrated I was becoming. She was sending me all over Empire space to her various contacts, each of whom was in “need” of my special abilities. Really, it was a crock. Deliver farming supplies, drop off a rag doll to a personal friend, tasks that simply made me cringe at their abuse of my Capsuleer status. All the while, I silently cursed Shakor, thinking of how my bitterness would probably destroy the relative friendship we had built. Honestly, I didn’t care. This was pathetic at best. I craved action and excitement.

In Gallente space, some data finally came to light regarding Mordu’s Legion. There was no clear indication as to how they were involved, and it was my job to scout a known nearby outpost for information about their recent activities. Finally, something I could take to with gusto.

My Rifter reverted to normal space, and I started scanning the area. Moments later, Aura started warning me of multiple inbound hostiles; Mordu’s Legion had come home. Immediately, I was webbed, and they were moving into position for the kill. I accelerated towards them, targeting the frigate that had webbed me as my primary. That was when they started jamming me and my shields began to fail. I was impressed at their coordinated effort, but knew that once I countered their jamming frequency, I would tear into them with unrestrained fury.

Sadly, that moment never came. My shields peeled away well before I could get my weapons back online. Aura warned of one of the ships trying to warp scramble, and I knew it was time for me to go.

I reported my findings to Sister Alitura, who had more information about the rogue drone fiasco. Apparently, it was the same drone affecting all of her contacts. She wanted me to go to Caldari space and seek out her liason there. 

Our eyes met, neither of us willing to break the gaze first. I would be shot on sight in Caldari space. I am sure she knew this. I challenged her with my stare and she didn’t back down. Finally, I chose to surrender this battle, my duty conquering my pride. I nodded to her and made my way to Caldari space, grinding my teeth all the way.

Seven ships and 100 million ISK later, I was more than pissed off. Shakor damn well better reimburse me for this, I thought to myself. This entire mission was a suicide run. No matter how fast I was, no matter how much I overheated my afterburner, the Caldari Navy was merciless in its pursuit and destruction of me. I was a lemming in my stubborness to succeed.

I had to find another way.

I sent a comm to Mynxee. I sent a comm to PyjamaSam. I sent a comm to my corp. Mynxee and Sam mocked me. “Welcome to New Eden, noob.” Sam had said. “Get over it, darlin. The universe doesn’t revolve around you.” Mynxee chimed in. My corp was busy mining. If I was angry before, I was enraged now. I cut the comms, realizing how fickle even friendships could be. In the end, you could rely on yourself and nobody else. 

Fine.

I was requisitioning a new Rifter when I got a call on my private comm; Nathan Carver. There was a name I hadn’t seen in over a year. Nathan and I used to be corp mates in the Cognitive Factor before the war started. COG was based in Caldari space, though I worked from the nearby Minmatar system of Korama while under their employ. I had made some good friends, and learned a lot about life in New Eden from their tutelage. When the war started, fate had a different path destined for me. I answered the comm.

“What’s up Roc? Haven’t seen  you in Caldari space in a while.” Nathan said.

“How’d you know I was here now?” I asked.

“Are you kidding? The entire system knows you’re here. The Navy keeps broadcasting your presence across all the traffic bandwidth. Everyone and their brother will be shooting at you. Just thought you’d want to know.” 

I sighed deeply. This mission just kept getting worse and worse. I was a declared public enemy of Caldari State, free to fire upon by any willing to claim the bounty they had posted on me. 

On the one hand, it was finally starting to make sense why Shakor had sent me. Only a Capsuleer could pull this off, and even then, only a Capsuleer with experiences akin to my own. On the other hand, there are five fingers. I had an idea.

“Nate,” I began, hesitation clear in my voice. “I need your help.”

“You? Asking me for help?” Nathan Carver laughed. “The immortal Roc Wieler, Scourge of the Amarr, Hero of the Minmatar Republic, asking a lowly Caldari for assistance? Hey, look out the station window; I think I see a pig flying.”

I let him get it out of his system, knowing I deserved to be berated. I had always been a cocky pilot. I carried myself with a certain arrogance that either attracted or repelled people. But you know what? It worked. As I often said, the legend of a man is always more effective than the abilities of a man. I had built my career on it, though I was fortunate in that I could back up what I said most of the time.

“Yeah, alright.” Nathan said after a few more minutes of condescending sarcasm. “What do you need?”

“Is there somewhere safe we can meet? I really don’t trust open comms.” I said, my suspicious instincts kicking in. Trust nobody. It was one of the first rules of survival, and given the fleeting nature of my so called “friends” earlier, I had decided to let my instincts take over. 

“Yeah, sure. Meet me planetside. I got a safehouse there we can meet at. Sending you the coordinates now.” With that, Nathan Carver signed off.

I booked passage on a planetary shuttle, being careful to hide my implants. I just wanted to blend in. I had even stopped and bought a wig from a nearby hair shop, and kept my sunglasses in the inner pocket of my jacket. I sported a long, blonde mullet; I didn’t even think I would recognize myself honestly.

After arriving planetside, I began to trek by foot, following Nate’s directions. 

I was in the midst of crossing a highway overpass when I felt a sharp pang in the back of my head, then a holler. The shout was from two young punks driving by in their vehicle. I looked to the ground, picking up the small monetary coin the passenger had thrown at me, hitting me in the back of the head. It had stung, and worse, it was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.

I watched their vehicle come to a stop at a set of traffic lights fifty feet in front of me and began to sprint after them. Fate was with me that day, some would say, as I reached their vehicle, the occupants unaware. The damn fool teenaged passenger still had his window open.

I put my left hand forcefully down on the window edging, and snarled. As the youth turned in shock to see me there in all my mulleted glory, I tightened my right fist and drove it into his face; once, twice, three times.

As I continued to pommel the youth, they both panicked, not knowing what to do. The passenger clumsily tried to fend me off to no avail, while the driver tried unsuccessfully to close the window. 

My mind reeled to thoughts of Master Cho, to Veshta Yoshita, to Mandi Kai, to Sard Caid. That was odd. I could understand the first few, as I had many unresolved anger issues surrounding them, but Sard?

Then it flashed into my mind. Sard had called me an old man. Sard had mocked me, boasting of how he would take my corpse. Yes, for all I liked Sard and enjoyed his company, he was a prick at times. Sometimes I needed that. Right now I used it as fuel for my anger.

I kept walloping the punk until finally the traffic signal indicated they could go, and go they did. 

I shook my hand, repeatedly flexing and extending my fingers, knowing my knuckles would swell, but feeling deeply satisfied by the encounter. Perhaps next time they would think twice before engaging in such a stupidly juvenile stunt. Probably not. That was the trouble with idiots; they never learned. You just can’t fix stupid.

I double checked Nate’s directions, adjusted my wig, and continued on.

Welcome to the sixth installment of the EVE Blog Banter, the monthly EVE Online blogging extravaganza created by CrazyKinux. The EVE Blog Banter involves an enthusiastic group of gaming bloggers, a common topic within the realm of EVE Online, and a week to post articles pertaining to the said topic. The resulting articles can either be short or quite extensive, either funny or dead serious, but are always a great fun to read! Any questions about the EVE Blog Banter should be directed here . Check out other EVE Blog Banter

This month’s topic comes to us from Quintrala of Speed Fairy . She suggests to “write a short fiction story about the dissolution of the BoB alliance. It could be from BoB’s point of view, the Goons’, by neutrals in 0.0, civilians in Empire, NPCs or even rats. Write about before, during or after the coup; give us stories of market, war, people or love. In-character or roleplay. We want to know what happened, from those fictional characters that, in your mind, were part of it.“

—

“You never used to smoke.” he said to me, as I lit up a cigar. I offered him one but he declined, waving me away with a disgusted gesture. 

“I never used to do a lot of things.” I replied, sucking back on the deliciously flavoured smoke that swirled inside my mouth. It was good to see my friend, it had been decades since last we had enjoyed each other’s company. We had both gained a little bit of weight as we aged, and I no longer needed to shave my head, it stayed smooth of its own accord. His hair has turned silver since last time. Still, neither of us looked that bad for our years; if anything I felt we looked more chiselled and dignified.

“Yeah, it’s amazing how some things change, some things don’t.” he said, swirling some fine cognac around in its snifter. He always had appreciated the finer consumables in life, while I had always been a beer drinker. 

We both sat there, lost in melancholic thought for a few minutes, content to simply sit in each other’s company. My own memories seemed like something out of an old fiction holo, so long ago that they teetered on the edge of being forgotten. I’m sure my companion’s memories were much the same.

“Hey, do you remember that time you decided to try to manipulate the pirates of Evati to fight the second great war for you?” he said, pulling me out of my revelry.

I took another deep drag of my cigar before answering with a smile. “Yeah, some good times. Back then we knew who the enemy was; made things simpler.” Everything had been black and white. If you were an Amarr, I killed you. If you were Caldari, I ransomed you back to the State for profit. It wasn’t until years after the war had finished that the lines between friend and foe really blurred, the political arena becoming the biggest cesspool of immorality in all the Empires. Few of us still fought the good fight during those historical years.

“How’s Mynxee?” he asked, his eyebrow raised. 

“Haven’t seen Mynxee in nearly ten years.” I said sadly. I hadn’t thought of her in ages, and wondered how she was doing, if she was even still alive. We had a romance that lasted longer than anyone could’ve guessed, and cultivated a remarkable friendship from it, given the extreme differences in our lifestyles. It had caused us both some grief every now and then, the Colonel and the Pirate, but I wouldn’t have changed a single moment we shared.

Again, the silence stretched between us. There was no awkwardness, merely contented reflection. It was I that broke the quietness this time.

“You remember when Band of Brothers fell?” I chuckled to myself a little, my friend doing the same. “It’s all they talked about for months. Goonswarm dismembers Band of Brothers. KenZoku reforms from the ashes. It was on every bleeding newsvid in the galaxy.” I snorted.

“Yeah,” he began. “Millions of beings involved in a crippling war that was dragging Empire economies to a record low, and the media focuses on the dealings of nullsec space. I guess it was more flavourful watching the mighty fall than the same old, same old of unemployed workers standing in food lines trying to get scraps for their families.”

It had been a difficult time. The war was draining every Empire’s resources at an alarming rate, and back then there was no end in sight. 

“They just didn’t get it.” I said flatly, sucking back again on my cigar. “All they did was add to the mythology of BoB. Even negative publicity is still publicity. I mean, we were there. GoonSwarm wasn’t able to maintain control of any BoB systems, and ended up nearly destroying itself defending against Red Alliance and every other hungry corporation that wanted to stake a claim in what was Band of Brother’s sovereignty. I think the media moguls did more damage than good in their constant fixation on the topic. Corps rise and fall all the time, it’s just the nature of the beast. Yeah, so this was the two biggest megacorporations of the time duking it out. So what? The fallout lasted for years from that debacle, and it didn’t need to. Everyone should’ve just gotten on with their lives. Things would’ve been a helluva lot better for the public as a whole.” 

I cut myself short, knowing I was starting to rant, hearing the anger slip into my banter. I became empassioned when speaking on things I held an opinion on, and really didn’t feel like getting into a heated debate with an old friend. We sat there staring at each other, this time the awkwardness between us evident, or at least that was how I perceived it.

“Still a hothead I see.” he laughed, and I joined him, ordering another round of drinks for us. I put my cigar out, and smiled at my friend.

“You know, Nate, I’m glad you set this up.” I said.

Nathan Carver nodded. Nothing else needed to be said on the matter.

“I followed your political career for years you know, right up until your last campaign.” Nate said, turning the subject to another topic.

“Oh yeah?” I asked curiously.

From there, we spent the next several hours reminiscing on our glory days, each of us coaxing forgotten memories to rise in the other, sharing laughter and drinks as only old friends could.

—

Participants:

Speed Fairy, The Hand of BoB
CrazyKinux’s Musing, No where to go…
A Mule in EVE, Rolling to the Warzone
The Ralpha Dogs, Two Tales of Glory and Honor
One Man and his Spaceship, Times they are changing
OZ’s House of the Evil Dead, Every betrayal contains a perfect moment, a coin stamped heads or tails with salvation on the other side
The Wandering Druid of Tranquility, Who the Hell are They?….
I am Keith Nielson, He Gave Up the Stars
• Life in Low Sec, Six Degrees of Seperation
• A Merry life and a Short One, Die Bard
• Roc’s Ramblings, Mythology
• Dense Veldspar, EVE Blog Banter #6
• Letrange’s EVE Blog, A toast to the disolution of BoB
• Fumbling in Space, Scarnan Vs The Fleeing Bankrupt Hordes
• More coming soon…

I’d like to say I was out all night drinking. I’d like to say I was up all night partying or doing something else equally fun to justify how I feel this morning. Truth is, none of those things occured. 

I’m dizzy. I’m nauseous. I want to puke. Even writing this entry makes me want to pass out.

I hate getting older.

I really don’t like interrupting a good story, and hopefully you have found my stories to be good, ha. Anywho, I’m sure every faithful EVE player knows by now that FANFEST 2009 has been announced.

What wasn’t announced is that PyjamaSam and Roc Wieler will be there. The ladies below obviously had this picture taken when they saw me coming; they look incredibly happy.

So, if you want to meet PyjamaSam and I, maybe have a few drinks (though Sam is a wuss and doesn’t really drink), maybe engage in some backyard wrestling, or just enjoy some general cavorting, get your tickets now.

We’ll see you there.

And PS. Check out the new picture of Mynxee over in my Flickr gallery to the right –>

After a brief chat with Sister Alitura, I was on my way to Gallente space. The Sisters of Eve had influence in all of New Eden’s empires, and while they continued to work on the mystery of the strange datacore I had acquired earlier, there was a request for assistance from Delphine Xarasier, a Federation ally to the Sisters. The Gallente were also an ally to the Republic, so it was with great zeal that I travelled towards Harerget system, looking forward to the chance to nurture and strengthen that amicable bond.

It turned out Delphine was having drone issues. Did I ever mention how much I hated drones? They were untrustworthy machines that had a tendency of turning on you, or completely ignoring you, when needed most. As thankful as I was for the many technologies we enjoyed in our lives as capsuleers, drones were a sore spot with me. Her drones were going rogue without reason, and she wanted me to find out why. Did I really look like a specialist in this sort of thing? I held my tongue, and did what was required, blasting apart a few rogue drones and retrieving the parts for her team to analyze.

In the meantime, my aid was needed elsewhere.

“A recently established colony still depends on Federation support for items they can’t produce yet. Their last shipment of medical supplies was lost en route, and we think it may be due to rogue drone action. Regardless, this batch of supplies needs to get through. Lives are depending on it.” Delphine said to me through a private comm.

The antibiotics had been placed aboard my ship, and I was ready to head out. 

I reached the colonial supply depot without incident a few hours later, for which I was thankful for. I was content having a simple mission for a change, something I wouldn’t fail at abysmally. I contacted Delphine when the cargo handlers had finished removing their medical supplies from my ship.

“I told you I’d help if you helped me. Well, the Serpentis Corporation has just kidnapped one of CreoDron’s top minds, Dr. Aspasia Castille. She was analyzing those drone parts that you recovered earlier. The information she has is critical to figuring out what’s going wrong with the drones, but the Serpentis aren’t going to let her go without a fight. They’re planning to take her to their installation at Harerget. I want you to get there first. Destroy their base and the ships guarding it before the transport ship arrives.”

I smiled to myself, switching my ammo to the appropriate type for maximum damage against the Serpentis. My Rifter frigate, the Ripsack, was eager to educate some pirates.

I warped in right on top of them, and set my 200mm vulcan autocannons ablaze. Hulls were shredded as I continued to weave amongst the surprised Serpentis frigates. It took them far too long to field their bigger ships, a few cruisers and a battle cruiser. I made short work of the cruisers, then focused my attention on the largest and final ship, continually bombarding their base with missles.

While engaged, Aura warned me of an incoming warp signature. One hundred kilometers off my stern, a Serpentis transport materialized, then was quickly diverted to a secondary rendezvous point elsewhere. I broke off from the battle cruiser, overheating my Gisti afterburner in pursuit of the transport, trying to get within range to use my Republic Fleet warp scrambler. I was too late. The transport easily entered warp over forty kilometers from me. I was infuriated with yet another failure and took my anger out on the battle cruiser, eventually blowing it to pieces. Still, my anger was not quelled. I destroyed the entire Serpentis outpost before I finally calmed enough to make my report.

“It’s a shame you weren’t able to disable the transport ship, but we’re glad you destroyed the Serpentis research station. Though we were able to intercept the transport, both ships were lost in the course of the ensuing battle. However, we believe a datacore containing Dr. Castille’s notes may still exist.

Your task is to retrieve that datacore, Roc Wieler.

Be warned, all indications are that the ship was contracted by the Guardian Angels as part of their protection agreement with the Serpentis Corporation. I’m sure they’ll send a ship to scan the wreckage and see what can be salvaged as well. They will be looking for some way to recoup part of their loss.” Delphine seemed slightly sad, and I could empathize. I wished she had given me the intercept coordinates, and had let me known what other assets were available to me on these missions. I could’ve easily broken off from my engagment and secured the transport elsewhere, without loss of life to any of her people. It seemed things were simply moving too fast for me to keep up. I was slowly realizing that the universe didn’t revolve around me after all, and that I was just one man trying to make whatever small difference he could, and wasn’t really sure that in the long run it even mattered.

Her intel had been spot on. Dozens of Guardian Angels were on the scene when I arrived. None left. Aura managed to scan down the item Delphine had hoped existed, Dr. Castille’s datacore.

I returned it to Delphine, and requested some time to make repairs to my frigate. She was more than happy to provide me with a work crew, as it would take her team a few hours to analyze the datacore anyway. I spent that time overseeing her mechanics, correcting small mistakes they were making on my Minmatar ship, rolling up my sleeves and pitching in where needed, until the repairs were complete. 

My comm beeped. Delphine had news.

“The datacore you recovered has proved interesting. Before her kidnapping, Dr. Castille found several oddities in the drone components. Honestly, it’s created more questions than answers for CreoDron staff. As a sign of good faith, I’m going to share some information with you. Our drones are being corrupted by some other kind of drone. I need you to take some information to a friend of mine in Caldari space.  They’ve also been suffering from drone problems recently, and this data may help him and his people. I need you to keep this quiet. Our friendship isn’t exactly something we’re broadcasting, not with both of our empires at each other’s throats.” Delphine hesitated, unsure as to whether she should continue. 

My face was completely blank, revealing neither my understanding of her situation, nor the hidden disgust and rage I felt at her audacity. I could care less about drone problems. And the Caldari? They could rot in hell. They had already cost me a fine ship on this expedition; let them sort out their own damn problems. Helping them was something I simply would not do.

Delphine took a deep breath and pushed on. “If you agree, I’ll make sure the information is securely hidden onboard your ship. You’ll never even know it’s there, all you have to do is go and talk to Immuri Asaka, and he’ll take care of the rest.”

My mind swirled at what she was asking. Surely Shakor couldn’t have meant for me to assist our enemy for the good of the Sisters? This was becoming madness and I wanted no part of it. I sighed, conflicted, finally coming to the only decision that gave me clarity. Duty was duty, and this was mine to fulfill. I could hate the Caldari all I wanted. I could hate this war. I could hate this entire game Sister Alitura was playing. And yet, I would see it through. I was tenacious and stubborn. I refused to be bested in anything I put my hands to.

Delphine relaxed visibly when I agreed to her request. I wished her well, letting her know should she ever require any further assistance from me, I would be honoured to aid an ally of the Republic. She returned the gesture by letting me know she would personally put in a letter to Prime Minister Shakor speaking of my good deeds on behalf of the Republic.

Waiting impatiently for her technicians to finish secreting her data aboard my ship, I laid in a course for Hatakani, deep in Caldari high sec.

I had a sinking feeling that things were about to get even more interesting for me. I had no idea at the time how right I was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My comm beeped. It was Tevis Jak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two more jumps.

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

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

One more jump.

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

“Will do, Cy. Thanks.” I said.

SISTERS OF EVE BUREAU
ARNON SYSTEM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m so tired. I just want to sleep. 

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

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

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

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

I’m losing it. I don’t care.

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

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

I need saving. I need help. 

Please, help me.