Thanks for all the entries. Choosing today’s winner was actually a toss up.

Today’s winner is Max Ursa. Congrats Max! Please email me the character you would like your story about, as well as the 50 million isk you have won.

I received a comm from PyjamaSam. It always brought a smirk to face to hear from him; the crazy adventures that seemed to populate his life unwittingly were an eternal well of mirth to me. As he began to speak, I realized the well was nowhere near running dry.

“So I bought a farm.” is how Sam began, to give you a small indication of how the conversation went.

It seemed Sam was on a quest for internal peace and quiet; his brilliant mind never able to shut itself off completely and enjoy the same relaxation many of us take for granted. There was always some scheme, some issue that needed solving, and he realized he was starting to go a little crazy. Of course, if one realizes one is going crazy, does that mean they aren’t? Or is the fact one is talking about one’s self a further indication of how far one has really gone around the bend? He went on like this for a good fifteen minutes before I managed to interject, wanting to know the reason for his call.

“Well, the farm needs work. I got 14 acres; grape vineyards, pear groves, peach trees, plum trees, a chicken coop, though a weasel got in last night and tore the heads off of all the chickens, a pigeon barn with about two tonnes of crap on the barn floor, a greenhouse in disarray, though it does have some lovely red onions in it, need to build me a fire pit, and a sixty year old tractor that somehow still functions, but barely. I’m going to automate the tractor eventually to tend the fields itself of course. You wouldn’t believe how tall the weeds are here, and then there’s the…” He had lost himself already in his incessant banter. His mouth was functioning on autopilot, his mind probably already re-analyzing each listed item for the thousandth time as he spoke, completely oblivious at this point that he hadn’t answered my question.

“Sam, for the love of crap!” I interjected, cutting him off.

“What?” he asked with the pure innocence of a child.

“What do you want from me?” I said, chuckling. With anyone else, I would’ve been far more impatient, but Sam was one of the few true friends I had during that stage of my lives, and I valued that greatly.

“Oh.” Sam said, somewhat embarrassed. “You’re the only guy I know that would find manual labour on a farm all day to be fun.” he said.

With that, we both laughed, and began making arrangements. A capsuleer had to be careful when traveling publicly; there were always those that could profit from knowing the locations of unpodded immortals. There had been a growing tension in the attitudes of the Empires’ populaces towards us pod pilots as of late. There had even been rumours of civilians managing to sneak aboard the “capsuleer only” levels of space stations; something nobody would ever have thought possible.

A public transport to the orbital station; a shuttle to the surface, a commuter train to the nearest rural station, then some old fashioned hitchhiking on the back of a dairy truck, and I made it inconspicuously to Sam’s farm.

One look around and I knew that for once he hadn’t been exaggerating about the state of things. The land was as wild as a jungle. What had I gotten myself into this time?

—

As an item of side-interest, I had sat across from a young local on the commuter train; one that seemed to be a fan of the Brutor tribe; one that refused to look at me directly, which I found amusing being a member of the Brutor tribe. I took a quick snapshot with my sunglasses, just to treasure the moment.

THE CONTEST

The contest is simple. Create a caption for the image above. It can be funny, witty, serious; anything you like. Post your caption in the comments below.

THE PRIZE

The winner of the Roc that Caption #2 contest will have their EVE Online character featured in a story here on Roc’s Ramblings, written by yours truly, as well as:

• 50 million of my ISK
• be a featured co-host on the Missions Collide podcast

THE RULES

Entrants may only submit one caption. All entries must be received by 11:59 PM EST, Friday August 13, 2010 to qualify. The entries will be judged by me alone. I will choose the winner based on what I personally find to be the best fitting caption.

Good luck!

Life is full of irony.

KBP7 BATTLE STATION
KBP7-G SYSTEM
XV7L-S CONSTELLATION
PROVIDENCE REGION

“I’d advise you move your assets sooner rather than later.” Emrys Ap’Morgravaine said.

Emrys was the on duty diplomat for the newly christened Damu’Khonde alliance (formerly known as Ushra’Khan). Instinctively, I pulled his bio. It was a mental habit I had developed, learning it was always good to understand the type of person I was dealing with. Concord kept very detailed records of Capsuleers, though to be fair, pod pilots had figured out ways to abuse even this system, maintaining their privacy.

“Humanity are a filthy, wretched, misbegotten, misguided, bigoted and morally failed species. I hate them. I really do.”

His bio was anything but encouraging. I assessed my situation.

Since moving to nullsec and joining Ushra’Khan, I had acquired assets in only two systems, the primary being KBP7-G. The two jump gates insystem were consistently camped by allies, and it was only one jump from Dital, leading to Empire, which was less than ten jumps to Rens, still one of my primary supply depots. KBP7-G was also advantageous as it was one jump away from the beginning of the now defunct Ushra’Khan jump bridge network.

Of course now it was sixteen jumps through the heart of Providence/Catch to retrieve my alliance assets. A part of me was willing to sacrifice what was there, mostly ammunition and T1 ships. Yet there on my screen, one of my Cynabal cruisers taunted me. It was too expensive a ship, with far too pricey a fitting to leave behind.

“Anyone able to help me get my assets out of N 8?” I said into our corporation channel. Given the lack of success I had experienced thus far with corpmates or alliance allies lending a hand, I wasn’t hopeful. I was already envisioning myself pod tanking back and forth through nullsec, pulling my ships out one at a time. That was going to be a very slow and painful process, I was sure.

“Sure hon, what’s up?” Neridah Tanz replied cheerfully. Neridah was one of the few corpmates I had gotten to know during my tenure. It didn’t hurt that she was easy on the eyes as well. I knew from the moment we first spoke that she had a thing for me, but then again, what woman didn’t? I mean, c’mon, short, bald, pale, I got it all going on over here.

Neridah was currently very popular with the alliance, as she was juggling freighter runs to aid in the evacuation of Providence, while her business partner had volunteered to open cynos for others to egress from the region.

I quickly contracted my N 8 assets to her, and thankfully, she had room in her next freighter run for everything except my Cynabal cruiser. I could’ve been negative about it, but hell, she was saving me a lot of effort already.

Playfully, I expressed my appreciation to her, letting her know that when this was all said and done, drinks were on me, and that I sincerely was thankful for her assistance.

“Anything for you, hon.” was all she replied. I was sure she would’ve been more conversational was she not in such high demand at the time.

In the meantime, I checked in with Emrys. I had finally sorted through sixty-three alliance emails, each one providing more details on the situation in Providence over the previous 72 hours. Seems we were NBSI (Not blue, shoot it), and standings between alliance corporations were still in the works, so basically, treat everything as hostile. There was also a warning about not undocking from your current station, as you wouldn’t be granted permissions to re-dock. That could obviously be problematic.

“Emrys, sorry to bother you.” I said in private conversation, “but as the on duty diplomat, I figured you’d be most in the know.”

“What do you need? I’m kinda busy here.” he replied curtly.

“Understood, sir. Just want to know if the station lockdown is still in effect in KBP7?” I asked.

“What lockdown are you talking about?” he replied a little too abruptly.

“As in, is it safe for me to undock? I will be able to dock again at the battle station?” I asked, trying to keep my temper cool. There were many capsuleers who were very detached from their emotions, who made decisions solely based on the logic of a situation. Their experience and training having taught them that regardless of emotional response, the situation, and the appropriate response, will not be influenced by your feelings. I wholeheartedly disagreed. I was ruled by passion. It fueled me, gave me strength. There had been many times in my life where had I not allowed emotion to rule me, I would’ve failed, given up, admitted defeat. That simply wasn’t my way.

Still, as the only liaison I was aware of at the time, it was best to keep my temper under control.

“Yes, yes of course.” he replied, before cutting the comm. I was going to attribute it to another case of being too busy, as he stated; nothing more.

Hesitantly, I undocked my pod, and started slowboating to N 8. I was cautious. In my years I had learned that exercising caution was one of the most effective means of preserving my life. I jumped off gate, to planets and moons, no straight warps between gates. Adrenaline surged through my veins between every jump. Pod tanking through nullsec; what the hell was wrong with me?

I arrived in N 8 unscathed. I arrived in N 8 better than unscathed. There hadn’t been a single registered pod pilot in local scan in any system along the entire route. I had never seen Providence so deserted, but was going to enjoy my good fortune while it lasted.

Within half an hour, I had my pod inserted into my Cynabal, had crammed my cargo hold full of the remaining ammo in my bay, and made my way slowly back to KBP7, once again, exercising extreme caution.

Alliance comms had a scout running a parallel route, that merged only a few jumps before KBP7. The scout was reporting the same system emptiness I had experienced. It was eerie, which only made things more nerve wracking.

Sard Caid popped up on my screen. “Yo.”

“Hey, you old pirate. How goes it?” I replied. I hadn’t spoken with Sard in quite some time, and honestly didn’t mind the company at this particular juncture in time. We engaged in the usual small talk, laughing at a bit at each other’s expense, really just two friends getting caught up on things.

I was three jumps from KBP7-G.

“How much you wanna bet I get ganked 1 jump from home?” I challenged Sard.

“You’re on, Roc.” Sard replied.

As soon as the words had left my mouth, I regretted them. I had never been superstitious, but had noticed in my career that when I joked about certain situations, they inevitably became very costly truths.

I focused while Sard rambled on.

I jumped into KBP7-G. There were 192 ships registered in local; all friendly. I breathed a mental sigh of relief. I had made it.

I wished Sard a good evening, and docked up.

The entire system was full of Damu’Khonde and its allies. I chuckled.

Maybe now I could get some help dealing with the Sansha Nation that had been infesting this constellation.

KPB7-G SYSTEM
SANSHA REGIONAL OUTPOST

“It’s a capsuleer, commander!” the Sansha comms officer screamed through his mental connection to the Overseer. “Forward scout shows a single Cynabal cruiser waiting at the acceleration gate.”

The Sansha Nation was one of the more powerful pirate factions, in so much that they ‘absorbed’ others into their collective. They called it liberation; naming their recruits ‘True Slaves’, sedated with drugs, cybernetically fused with all horrors of machinery, all under the control of one man, Sansha Kuvakei; despot, madman, genius. An entire nation of people, single minded in following the will of Sansha.

The Overseer knew that their culling would not succeed with a capsuleer inbound. He also knew how desperately they needed the boon of recruits they had found in this system. They would not retreat from the capsuleer this time.

Within moments, the Overseer had commanded his forces to scramble, bringing online several web stasis towers, as well as over a dozen battleships, cruisers and frigates to defend against the immortal capsuleer.

The Overseer received the report that the capsuleer had used the acceleration gate, and was now hurtling through warp towards them.

They would be waiting.

—

I was engaged as soon as I exited warp; the Sansha Nation had known I was coming. I launched my entire complement of drones, five Valkyrie II models, and steeled myself for battle.

Within seconds three separate stasis towers had locked onto me, and even with my micro warp drive at optimal output, my ship was slowed to 30 m/s. With no transverse velocity, I was a sitting duck. I hoped my shields held.

The Valkyries swarmed the nearest frigate, and I concentrated my fire on the same ship. It exploded quickly, and I was keen on taking victories where I could. Each loss to my enemy lessened the damage to my ship and potentially eroded their will to continue the fight.

My shields dropped to 20%, four separate salvos of heavy missiles hitting with full impact. I boosted my shields, overheating them to squeeze every last second I could out of them.

A second frigate went down. I redirected the drones to the nearest stasis tower, well out of reach of my autocannons. This fight wouldn’t last much longer if I couldn’t destroy those towers.

It was almost as though the enemy fleet had read my thoughts. Another salvo from the battleships and my shields were depleted, my armour evaporated. It was almost surreal how quickly it happened.

ALLIANCE CHANNEL: ” Emergency CTA. All pilots report for combat. Rally system is N 8.”

Lovely.

I willed the drones to return as I aligned for the nearest star. I needed out before my Cynabal was torn from me. It was going to be close. 3.8 seconds to align, drones were enroute. I wasn’t waiting if they didn’t make it.

The warp drive hummed, spinning up to speed. The drones entered their bay moments before the stars elongated and I was away, my ship in tatters around me.

—

The Overseer smiled, even though they had lost a welcome addition to the Nation. Still, repelling a capsuleer was no small feat. Knowing the capsuleers to be a tenacious lot, the Overseer accelerated his plans. The culling needed to be completed, and quickly.

—

I docked up for emergency repairs. I had obviously underestimated the strength of the Sansha base I had scanned down earlier. I had heard rumours about the Sansha Nation; some said they were a zombie army, others said they were cyborgs, others still said they were a human drone collective. In my experience, their ships blew up just like anyone else’s, and Concord paid well for that.

The money wasn’t my primary motivation of course. The Sansha Nation was a well known pirate operation, and I was most definitely anti-pirate. And if any of the rumours were true, then they were also slavers. I hated slavers.

I scanned the Alliance Channel. Large fleet activity forming up.

“Roc Wieler, reporting in.”

“Are you enroute to the rendezvous system, pilot?” the fleet commander replied.

“Negative, sir. Need to get myself a decent ship together out here. Shouldn’t take longer than … 30 minutes.”

“Christ pilot, how can you live out here and not have a stockpile of ships? Get to it. Every ship counts.”

“Wieler out.”

—

Two hours later I had nearly given up. Two hours later I had traveled to multiple alliance systems, using our jump bridge network, under the direction of various pilots as to where I could equip my ship sufficiently. Two hours later I still hadn’t managed to find a single component worth buying.

I should’ve just made the trip to Rens and back.

The most enlightening part of that two hours was listening to our alliance fleet move from system to system, falling under attack from an allied gatecamp, more than once, and our fleet commander demanding reimbursement for lost ships. Tempers were flaring, morale was down, and the real enemy had yet to surface.

Two hours of effort, and the best I could do was an ill-fitted Stabber. It would be a waste of a ship to take it into battle; a waste of my time. The fleet was in disarray, and if experience was any teacher, it was bound to disband soon. By the time I got to the rendezvous system, I would more than likely just be turning around to head back towards the Sansha Regional HQ I had discovered.

I assessed the strength of the HQ in my mind, having Aura do up a squad configuration for what I might need. Looked like I would need a strong tank, maybe a drake, a remote repper of some sort, and additional DPS in order to make short work of the Sansha Nation.

My gut told me time was of the essence.

I received no response in my corporation channel when asking for assistance with the Sansha, so switched over to Alliance chat. That was a mistake.

“You’re asking for carebear help during a CTA? Are you stupid? Kick this idiot.”

“We’re in a CTA. WTF are you doing?”

These types of comments flooded my screen. I sighed heavily.

“They were attacking a civilian colony. Our help is needed.”

This received much laughter, further derision, and finally my removal from the fleet by the fleet commander.

Well, that settled that.

In my short time serving with Ushra’Khan, it had been my first request for assistance. My belief, my entire reason for joining U’K, was the impression that we both stood for freedom and the liberation of innocents no matter where we found them.

Apparently, not everyone got that memo.

I returned to KBP7-G to recon the Sansha HQ. The familiar hum of the acceleration gate greeted me. I did a quick scan through to the other side. No results. Hmmm.

I warped through, my mind ready to respond in a heartbeat. If they had reinforced their position, this would be even more impossible than before, but I had to at least try.

A drape of darkness, pierced with pinholes of light, was all that greeted me. The colony was abandoned. The Sansha Nation had moved on.

I did a quick scan of the site. No life signs. I had been too late.

I put in a quick call to the Sisters of EVE, letting them know what had happened at this location, and asked them to send one of their teams. They were more adept at this sort of rescue operation than I was.

Thousands of innocent lives destroyed, beings lost as ‘True Slaves’ to Sansha. Ushra’Khan unable and unwilling to help. I mumbled a silent curse under my lips, not knowing that only days later Ushra’Khan would be betrayed and disbanded.

I docked my ship in KBP7-G Battle station. There is no happy ending to this entry, only regret.