PROLOGUE

TRIBAL LIBERATION FORCE, HEK SYSTEM

“Though risky, I can see the value in your proposition, Colonel. This could change the tide of the war.” General Sasawong was a seasoned veteran, a well known force on his own for liberating enslaved Matari. There were few things he would not do to win this war; his approval on such a plan demonstrated this flaw.

“I concur. You do realize that this council will deny any and all involvement in this operation should it fail. The onus would be entirely on you.” General Coven was the pragmatist in the group; he would be supportive if the logic of an idea were sound, but he had a gifting for seeing ramifications and backlash should said idea go sour. He was a valued member of the Tribal Liberation Force heirarchy.

The third and final member of this Council of Generals was General Saido Mako, a decorated and accomplished brute of a man, both on and off the battlefield. Ambitious, powerful, charismatic, he had been a force of reckoning within the machinations of the Republic for over three decades. He had forgotten more than most soldiers experienced.

“I think the plan has possibility,” he began, “but I am not entirely convinced you’re the right man for the job, Colonel.” The sarcastic emphasis employed on the rank title was just subtle enough to be mistaken, yet bold enough to be heard correctly. “However, since there doesn’t seem to be anyone else stepping forward with such innovative solutions to the problems we face, I will go along with my esteemed colleagues this one time. You have the Council’s unanimous agreement.”

Roc Wieler, Colonel of the Tribal Liberation Force, clicked his heels together, and offered a crisp salute. He was a bit short for a Brutor, but wider across the shoulders than average. He was in full dress regalia for this occasion, and looked every bit the strong officer he was. He was a growing force in the Republic as well, though he didn’t really comprehend his reach. He was ambitious in his military career, but not for any personal or political power. His sole motivation was the liberation of his people. Noble, if not naive.

As Colonel Roc Wieler turned on his heel and left the Council chambers, General Mako couldn’t help but quietly hope Roc Wieler failed.

I stood in a vast chamber. There was little in the way of furniture or decoration. A single spotlight shone down upon me from a ceiling beyond the reach of my vision. Even my breathing echoed in the enormity of this place.

“Roc Wieler. We have found you guilty of violating Republic Military code. Assault against non military targets is unacceptable, and will be punished. Do you have anything you wish to say before sentencing?”

The Tribunal; few things could frighten a man more than them, yet I oddly felt a calming peace amongst the storm. I had been apprehended at Evati VII, Republic Fleet Logistic support, and ferried securely back to Hek. I knew this day would come. I knew I would have to take ownership of my actions. What more could be said?

“No, your honours.” I replied monotonously. 

“Because of your exemplary record, colonel, we are going to go easy on you, though we want it known that things can go very poorly for you, and very quickly, should we ever see you before this tribunal again. Are we making ourselves clear, colonel?” 

It was odd how the tribunal spoke. There were three members, each taking turns speaking, but it was done in a mid sentence rythmn that it made seem like one speaker. 

Regardless, they were taking it easy on me. There were obvious undertones. “We need you, colonel. It’s war out there and we need every available body. Just don’t mess it up again and make us look stupid for our leniency.” That was the real message I was hearing.

“I am but a servant to the Republic, your honours.” I replied with heartfelt sincerity.

“Very good, colonel. You are temporarily suspended from fleet command status. You are to be docked 1200 ISK to cover medical expenses and legal fees for the three victims you are charged with assaulting. You are not to leave Metropolis region for 10 days. Failure to comply with any of these terms of your sentence will result in immediate apprehension and prosecution to the full extent of our power under the Republic military code.”

A loud hammer sounded, and the tribunal was finished. Things could’ve been much worse for me.

—

“And how do you plea, Roc Wieler?” the judge asked. A camera drone whirred by my face, recording this shame for all the galaxy to see. The courtroom was packed, as this was a civil hearing, and open to the public.

“Guilty, your honour.” was my honest reply. A gasp came up from much of the crowd, and I could see the looks of shock on most faces, the look of disappoint on others, the look of smug self-satisfaction on fewer still.

The judge repeatedly hammered his gavel against his desk. “Order in this courtroom. Order!”

It was one of the biggest media events in recent history; Colonel Roc Wieler, hero of the Republic, facing charges for assaulting three civilians on an Evati magtrain. 

For the last four days those civilians had been on television more than coverage of the war. They had become fifteen minute famers, and were eating it up.

I regretted what I had done. Whatever consequences there were to be, I would accept them.

“Roc Wieler, it is within my power to imprison you. It is within my power to lock you away, throw away the key, and nobody will ever hear from you again. Do you understand the severity of what you have done?” 

I nodded my head and replied “I do, your honour.”

The judge continued. “But I’ve read your file, son. I know the pressure you must be under. And before I sentence you, I want it known to you, and to the trillions watching, that I appreciate you, son. I appreciate every soldier out there fighting for our way of life. I salute you personally, and am sorry that you and I are even in this courtroom right now.”

The crowd gasped as the judge stood, saluting me, and continued his monologue.

“With a heavy heart I must act upon the admission of guilt submitted by the defendant. Roc Wieler, I find you guilty on the count of assault, and guilty on the two counts of aggravated assault. You will be fined 700 isk, and released into your own custody. Court dismissed!”

The judge hammered his gavel, and we were done. 

So far, my punishment had been a trivial amount of isk, some well deserved public humilitation, and restrictions on my travelling. Like I said, things could’ve gone much worse.

—

“Roc, I’m sorry, but I can’t have our people acting this way without reprimand.” Cytral said, as we sat in his office at our corporate headquarters. “You’re suspended from active duty without pay. I also have to write this down in your permanent record. One more incident, and I’m going to have to let you go from the company. Geez Roc, just get it together ok?” Cy was a good director; firm, yet fair. He had always been good to us at Freeform Industries. I hated letting him down. I really did need to get it together.

So there it was; no pay, isk fines, flight zone restrictions, public humiliation. Guess I would be out of touch for the next ten days. I guess I should just look at it as a forced vacation.

Merry Christmas, Roc Wieler.

—

OOC: Merry Christmas everyone! See you in the new year!

This month’s EVE Blog Banter idea comes to us by Roc Wieler of Roc’s Ramblings. Roc asks us to “write a story about a fellow EVE Blogger, or an EVE player whom has inspired you or affected you in some tangible way. After your story, describe why you chose them, and any Holiday wish you have specifically for them“.

—

Fade Region, a place I didn’t visit often, and for good reason. As a Colonel in the Minmatar militia, it wasn’t easy for me to get to, but today, it was worth the risk incurred. 

I was heading to Vanguard Frontiers, to visit Sam. I had been there only a handful of times previously, but Lady Grey had arranged for safe passage through their area of space, allowing me to avoid Band of Brothers, one of the most notorious alliances in that region.

I docked safely, and was greeted personally by Tessa Yor. She was cordial, respecting my rank and achievements; and I in return was respectful for all she had accomplished with her corporation. With her aid, I made my way through their station, navigating the labyrinth towards the lower levels that Sam called home. 

The door to his workroom slid open, and my nostrils were immediately assailed with numerous odours; oil, burned metal, Quafe soda, rotting food, body odour, and too many others to recognize. 

It was dimly lit, but the vibrant glow of dozens of terminals shone from various areas of the room. Sam was nowhere to be seen, but I could hear him immediately.

“Quantum superpositions of product states and, these so-called entangled states can have unique and counterintuitive properties. The best-known example of an entangled state is that which corresponds to two spin-½ particles with a total spin of zero…” 

I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but that was actually quite normal for anyone that knew Sam. He was beyond brilliant, beyond innovative; he was truly astounding.

One accomplishment of note; he had developed an automated system for production and order management that earned the corporation over 100 billion isk per month; over a trillion isk since its first inception one year ago.

That was Sam. It wasn’t about the money for him; it was about the accomplishment, the knowing that it could be done. 

I rounded a corner of hardware and wires, tripping over a trash heap full of empty Quafe soda cans, and finally laid eyes on Sam, in all his … glory?

He was hunched over three computer monitors, typing furiously with one hand, while making adjustments with a micro laser tool in the other hand. He stank of sweat, and from the oily look of his hair, hadn’t showered in days. That was one of the problems with genius; it often left you unable to focus on the everyday necessities of life. 

This neglect had earned Sam much of his reputation among his corpmates. Sure, they thought he was a god when it came to technology, but they also mocked him behind his back. The clearest example of this was his nickname “PyjamaSam”. Clothing was one of those things that just got in the way. “In the time it takes me to put on undergarments, trousers, a shirt, a jacket, socks, boots and whatever else I need, I could’ve already been getting important work done.” Sam once explained to me. And as I laid my eyes on him now, I wasn’t surprised to see him wearing his typical choice of clothing; one piece blue flannel pyjamas. Despite this, I would never call him PyjamaSam; to me, he would always be Sam, my friend.

I wasn’t even sure he was aware I was there, until he suddenly turned to stare directly at me, which was somewhat unsettling. “What?” he said, as if that one word explained everything. I could already tell from the look in his eyes that he wasn’t even paying attention, that the fact I was here didn’t even phase him despite its rare occurence. He was probably juggling about three dozen different ideas in his head, which I obviously was intruding upon. The fact he acknowledged me at all actually showed the depth of our friendship.

“Sam,” I started. “When was the last time you slept?” He had huge bags under his eyes, his skin was even more pale than usual, and he just looked on edge. He grabbed another Quafe from nearby, popped the tab and drank it down in two gulps. 

“Seriously bud, you need to sleep.” I said. I was worried about him; he worked too hard, all the time. He didn’t know how to slow down.

Sam was a capsuleer, but you wouldn’t know it. Yet once again, Sam had to excel at all he did. He had managed to get blown up in just about every system he visited as soon as undocking. That was something.

“I just need to finish this equation, then I’ll sleep. I promise.” We both knew it was a lie. We both knew he would go until he collapsed, then sleep for a few days, only to get up and do it all over again. But you know what? That was ok. That was how Sam worked efficiently. It might not work for all of us, but then again, Sam wasn’t all of us was he?

“Let me see.” I foolishly said. I moved towards the monitor he indicated and looked at the screen.

Upsilon(1, 2) = (1/2^½)[{phi₁(n) x phi₂(-n)} – {phi₁(-n) x phi₂(n)}] was as far as I got before my head hurt. I wasn’t cutout for these things. 

Sam finally realized how odd it was for me to be here. He looked around, then directly at me, and asked “Roc, what’s wrong? Why are you here?” 

In addition to his brilliance, you’d be hard pressed to find a more caring man than Sam. His heart was actually more acute than his mind. He was always the first to be there for you when needed, no matter what he might be working on at the time. Most people didn’t notice this, as trying to penetrate that intellectual bubble was quite the daunting challenge, but the reward was well worth it. He was a sensitive individual whom I had opened my heart up to when needed. And no, we’re not gay. Why can’t two grown men be friends without people assuming they’re gay?!? Wait, I’m getting sidetracked.

“Nothing’s wrong, Sam. Just the opposite actually.” I said with a grin on my face. “It IS Christmas. I just have a gift for you is all.” I could see I had his full attention, as he turned on his seat to completely face me. “You, um, didn’t have to get me anything, Roc.” 

“I know, but I really thought you’d like this.” I could barely contain my joy at this; the look that would invariably end up on his face. That was yet another thing I enjoyed about Sam; he had the ability to completely and fully enjoy the moment.

I reached around the corner I had just passed, and picked up the present I had brought specifically for Sam. He looked at me quizzically, and as I handed him the box, I could tell he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Well, open it.” I urged him. He tore at the wrapping, quickly disgarding it haphazardly on the floor nearby, lost amidst the bottomloss trash heap.

He stared in wonder at the black box he held in his hands. It was featureless onyx, about the length of his arm…

His head snapped up to look at me, his eyes wide, when he finally figured out what he was holding.

I smiled from ear to ear at my dear friend, and nodded.

He stood up and placed the box reverently on his workbench, knocking Quafe soda cans loudly to the floor. He moved a spotlight to point down at the box from above, and turned it on. Opening the box lid carefully, he looked down in wonder, his hands clasped together, and stared at the DNA computer I had retrieved not too long ago on a recon mission. He just looked at me, almost begging for an explanation.

“Our guys couldn’t figure it out. We need you, Sam. You’ve got 48 hours.”

With that, I had lost him. He was already absorbed with the task at hand. I knew he would extract every terran secret from that artifact. This would tip the scales in favour of the Minmatar forever.

“Merry Christmas, Sam”. I thought to myself, and walked away back towards my ship.

—

“Sam”, this story is for you bud. In the amount of time we’ve known each other, I have to say you’ve become a very good and close friend. I appreciate your brilliance, your dedication, your ambitions. I share in your pains, your losses. You are my brother.

You taught me the joys of EVE Offline, and have helped me to see my own creative talents come to fruition. 

I celebrate all you are. I thank you for everything you do.

Merry Christmas.

—

Participants:

• CrazyKinux’s Musing: Standing on the Shoulders of Giants
• The Wandering Druid of Tranquility: What will your verse be?…
• A Merry Life and A Short One: EVE Blog Banter #3: What Not To Do
• Mad Rant: My Hero
• The Ralpha Dogs: A Greeting Card
• Inner Sanctum of the Ninveah: The Station
• Diving into Psyche Diver’s Psyche: CK’s Blog Banter #3: Praise and kudos
• Protosolus: EVE: Blog Banter 3 – A Piratical Legend
• Blogging from inside the Pod: The ‘Jita Incident’
• Achernar: Citizen Zhang
• Cosmik R5’s EVE Blog: Blog Banter: Tribute to an EVE player – Letrange
• Letrange’s EVE Blog: Is it December Banter time already?
• Life in Low Sec: EVE Blog Banter #3: Reverend Book
  
• Sweet Little Bad Girl: Blog Banter #3
  
• Votrian’s EVE Blog: EVE Blog Banter #3 – my influences

 

“That’s right; 2 billion last month.” she said to me via vidcom. 

She chuckled at me when I told her about my datacore production. To her, it was a pointeless endeavour compared to free ISK, free ships, and free parts.

I had picked up the datacores earlier in the day, and returned to my ship. I was free to leave, but honestly I had nowhere to go. I was fixated, unable to get my mind away from other things, so had decided to call my stockbroker. She took care of all my investments, and though young and traditionally unskilled, she had proven herself very adept at making profit.

“That’s fantastic to hear, Minara.” I replied. “I don’t know how you do it, but I’m really not complaining.” She was a curiousity to me. Given my military connections, she was easy to track, as she operated out of Rens, but the results of her movements weren’t very revealing. As I said, I had no idea how she was so successful at the market, but who was I to complain with 2 billion isk on average coming in per month?

She was a Caldari, but sympathetic to the Minmatar cause. It wasn’t uncommon to find immigrants from other regions coming to stand alongside the Republic in our struggle against the tyrannical oppression of the Empire. 

Besides, profit was good.

—

She sent a passive signal across time and space, waiting for the almost undetectable pingback in return. It was an innovative piggyback system, her signal discreetly attaching itself to secured military transmissions. It was so low bandwidth, emitting almost no trace, that you would really have to be purposefully scanning for it to even know it existed.

Her comm blipped. The receiving party was available.

“Does he suspect?” a soft male voice inquired.

“Not a thing.” Minara replied.

Profit was good.

“You’re free to go, Wieler, but don’t leave Metropolis Region before your tribunal hearing date, got it?” The Concord officers had been anything but friendly, but then again, why would they be? They knew who I was. They knew my status and my rank. Maybe by my actions I had reinforced already existing stereotypes they had about Brutors, about the military, about capsuleers. Who knows. I didn’t care.

“Understood.” I replied solemnly. I gathered up my gunbelt, reholstering my two pistols, letting them lay in their familiar grooves against my outer thighs.

I headed back to my ship, the Tribal Glory, and headed for my personal quarters. I needed some time to think; a lot had occured today, and it was only just reaching noon. I lay on my bed, allowing myself to sink into its luxurious comfort, my hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling of my room.

There had been many people throughout my life that had given me advice. Stop being so emotional, learn to control your anger, have emotional stability, etc, etc. They didn’t understand me. They thought they did; they thought they had the answers, but they didn’t. 

I wasn’t them. I never would be them. How could they understand that which they have never experienced firsthand? I’m referring to passion.

Passion had always been my greatest strength. I applied passion to all I did, and it had made me successful in a great many things. I poured my heart into my pursuits, never accepting no as an answer, and as such, my talents had shone. 

Passion had always been my greatest undoing. With the capacity to succeed at much comes the chance to fail large as well. Looking back over my life it was true; when I fell, I fell hard. 

But I wouldn’t change a single thing.

Passion is what changes society. Passion it was moves the universe forward. Passion is what improves the quality of life, allowing us to vibrantly feel and experience all that is around us. Without passion, not a one of us would be where we are today.

My own people, though many are still enslaved, were once all subject to that outrage. It was acceptable to be owned if you were one of our ethnicity. Society said that is how it was. Through passion, this was changed. It’s not just about an ideal or belief, but the acting upon, the never giving up on, that same ideal or belief that brings it into reality. Passion is the catalyst of change. Passion is the key component of triumph. One voice, filled with passion, gives way to thousands.

Look at Sam. Sam is brilliant. He has thoughts in his head I can’t possibly understand, and that’s ok. Yet they are more than thoughts. Sam’s passion brings his ideas to life. Brilliance is not enough. You need the passion to bring your dreams into reality, like Sam does, like I do.

I am a creature of passion. I don’t care what society says is acceptable. If society were correct 100% of the time, we wouldn’t be involved in yet another war would we. We wouldn’t watch our economy crashing as the cost of moon minerals skyrockets, and supply can barely keep up with demand. If the laws that existed were flawless, we wouldn’t have a generation of selfish sycophants, who have never gone wanting. 

Passion. A life lived without passion is a life not lived at all; or something along those lines. 

So for all my flaws, for all my shortcomings (don’t misread that ladies), I am who I am, and I take  immense satisfaction in that. 

I am Colonel Roc Wieler, proud fleet commander for the Tribal Liberation Force, scourge of the dreaded Amarr, and part-time supermodel. I chuckled to myself. I had been taking things too seriously again, letting them get to me. It was time to rise above it all, to allow my passions to achieve some good, as only I could do in my own unique way. It was time to go to Evati. It was time to fulfill my duties.

20 MINUTES LATER

“The pleasure is all mine, Shae.” I said across space. I had come to Evati looking for the Bastards originally, to enlist their aid in a corporate level 5 job I had undertaken. Turned out that Evati actually fell under my military jurisdiction, as it was part of the war zone my fleet and I were responsible for. I should’ve realized it sooner, but to be fair, it remained uncontested a fair amount of the time. I suppose that meant I’d been doing my job well, yay for me.

Now my objective had changed. It was well known throughout the militia that Evati was a hostile zone. Military vessels were at just as much risk as anyone else, if not more. The Pirates of Evati didn’t discriminate. Had I known that the Hellcats, and by association, the Bastards were the pirates of this system, I would’ve come here sooner to hopefully rectify the situation.

“Aw sweetie, aren’t you just a charmer?” she replied. “Mynx should be in subspace range soon, I know she’ll want to get in on this little chat of ours for sure.” Shae was cute. She sounded a little young, but extremely perceptive and intelligent. I would wager many a man had underestimated her only to end up floating outside an airlock, or out of wallet. I wouldn’t make that same mistake. Everyone deserved respect until they demonstrated otherwise.

“Thank you kindly, Shae.” I stated cordially. Coming to an accord with the Bastards would be a major strategic advantage for the war effort, allowing our forces to pass through Evati unmolested. This could open up new routes for us to flank the Amarr, and I was all for anything that would give us an advantage. Slowly, we had been losing ground to them. Systems had fallen and not been recovered. The Amarr were moving forward, unchallenged and seemingly unstoppable.

Shae and I engaged in some enjoyable smalltalk, until we heard a familiar voice enter our secured comm channel. There are some women in this universe whose voice can simply melt you to the core of your being. As I listened to her greet us, and start up some friendly banter with Shae, it became self evident that Mynxee, CEO of the Hellcats, was one of those women you could never let your guard down with, or she would devour you heart and soul.

“Roc, are you there sugah?” I had drifted off, the cadence of her voice already getting the better of me. “I’m here, Mynx.” I replied, trying to sound a lot more gruff than I usually did. 

We small talked about life in general, catching up on some interesting tidbits I would have to save for later should the need arise, until we finally circumvented to the reason for my visit, as it had become clear no help would be forthcoming from the Bastards for that cursed level five job I had taken.

I told them both of my intentions regarding Evati, and its involvement in the war effort. There was some back and forth questioning until Mynxee finally told me to hold tight.

Shae had to take her leave of us, and we wished her well; something about a pub and some young men needing to be relieved of a great many things. I shook my head; the follies of youth.

A new channel opened on my HUD; encrypted beyond military means. I heard Mynxee’s voice, and another I did not know.

“Colonel Wieler,” the voice began, synthesized to avoid voice filter detection. “Mynxee has told me much about you.” If we read between the lines there, what was really implied was “Or I wouldn’t be meeting with you at all.” I had to respect a man who went to this much trouble to protect his identity. It demonstrated intelligence and cunning, traits I often sought after for my own pilots. I had much hope for our negotiations.

“Thank you for flagging me as non hostile in Evati space.” I began. We cut right to the heart of the matter. 

“I’ve been informed that you wish safe passage in our space. How will it profit us, and what risk does it entail?” I wanted to correct him, as this space was most definitely not theirs, but to be fair, the militia was too thinly spread to contest the bold claim. Besides, no point in angering the man I needed something from, right?

“The Amarr grow bolder each and every day. Evati gives us a flank route from Hek, allowing us a clear tactical advantage over the systems in Metropolis. Your cooperation in this matter will be greatly appreciated, and bode well for the Bastards standing with the Minmatar Fleet.” 

I could’ve sworn I heard a chuckle when he began to speak again. ” I appreciate your position, but this war has become very profitable for us. What can you offer us that we don’t already have? Why risk our necks for a war we’re not involved in?”

Once again, that familiar feeling of outrage began to rise within me. This war affected all of us. If the Amarr were to be victorious, all of our systems, Evati included, would feel the iron rule of the Empire. How could he not see this? Or did he simply not care, believing the Amarr would leave them to carry on as they had? That was brazen, and foolish. And should the unspeakable happen, and the Empire lay claim to this system’s sovereignty, he would quickly find that out for himself.

“We can compensate you for your troubles.” I replied, keeping my anger in check, appealing to his pirate’s sense of profit.

“We already have a business setup for that, Colonel. We offer weekly and monthly passes to any whom wish safe passage through our domain. Depending on how many ships you are thinking, and which side you support in the war, I am sure we can come to an arrangement.”

Which… side? That was it. I was done here. I was just about to give him a verbal tongue lashing, when Mynxee, whom had remained silent thus far, burst into the conversation, screaming the battle cry of “MINMATAR!!!”

We both chuckled at that, and I found my anger subsiding.

“I was thinking no more than a single squad, ten ships, and in addition, we would allow you to lay claim to any salvage, as well as the prize of any Amarr ships we engage here.”

He didn’t reply right away, and I knew I had found my angle. We obviously were all Minmatar, as revealed by our mirth at Mynxee’s comment, and the temptation of salvage and Amarr wreckage at the cost of ten ships had to be an attractive offer. Sure, I had comprimised at the number of ships, but even a single squad should be able to do what was required in this system.

“Alright Colonel, ten ships. Send me the pilot list through Mynxee, and we’ll work something out on compensation. I’ll take this to our board of directors, though I can’t see any problems arising. I look forward to hearing from you.” With that, the deal was on the table.

Pirates. It always came down to profit with them.

“I’m impressed, handsome.” Mynxee chimed. “I like a man that can get his way.” 

Passion. She understood its power. I definitely needed to be more cautious around this vixen. 

I gave some thought as to which pilots would be appropriate for this role. The militia consisted of countless corporations and freelance pilots; keeping track of things in that manner would inevitably bring “accidents”, which would only lead to unnecessary complications. A single corporation, a single skilled squad, was what I needed. 

I grinned as the answer came to mind. I would use the Renegades.

I transmitted my report back to HQ, awaiting recommendations and decisions made by my superiors. Hopefully, there would be no problems with what I had done here. Diplomats weren’t received well by pirates. And where diplomacy failed, sometimes there was a chance for other avenues. 

It was only early afternoon. I still had time to pick up my datacores.

I chatted with Mynxee a little more, taking mental notes with each sentence shared, finally taking my leave.

Bring passion to all you do, and succeed or fail, your life will be one to remember.