Tag Archives: EVE Online

Firetail Revisited

Posted by Roc Wieler on

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It was last June that we first took an indepth look at the Republic Fleet Firetail in THIS post, and a lot has changed since then: fewer high slots, higher damage bonus, projectile falloff bonuses, etc. I receive a growing number of requests from pilots to explain the change in role, proper usage, and optimal fitting since all the changes to this beloved ship.

HISTORY:

The Firetail is modeled off a fighter frigate known as the Shamrock, a design used by a small, now-extinct pirate faction known as Lazari Dromitus. The blueprint found its way into the hands of Matari military forces after a raid on Lazari Dromitus’s headquarters succeeded in killing its leader, thus beheading the organization and scattering its remnants to the four winds. It has since been improved upon and upgraded, and the Firetail is now a mainstay in most Republic Fleet patrols.

Minmatar Frigate Skill Bonus: 20% bonus to Small Projectile Turret damage and 7.5% bonus to Small Projectile Turret tracking speed per level

USAGE:

The Firetail has always been a kiting ship in my opinion. It lacks the tank of the Rifter, which can get in close and sustain a good active or passive stance against most enemies. It also lacks the speed, drone capacity and firepower of the Dramiel, which has become a vicious faction frigate post Dominion. To be 100% honest, despite my love for the Firetail, the Dramiel is the faction frigate of choice in all respects.

However, there is still a use for the Republic Fleet Firetail beyond being a symbol of the Republic Fleet. It’s been an invaluable ship to me in the war, great for probing systems for military complexes, excellent against most other frigates and destroyers (though an arty fit Thrasher will tear you a new one), and generally still one of the sexiest ships ingame (though once again, I think I prefer the Dramiel nowadays).

RECOMMENDED SKILLS:

I’m a firm believer of training up your support skills before training to fly a new ship. There is a difference between piloting a ship, and piloting a ship with proficiency. With faction frigates, you want to be skilled for the amount of isk you’re spending on the bloody thing.

  • Frigates V
  • Spaceship Command IV
  • Electronics V
  • Long Range Targeting IV
  • Energy Grid Upgrades IV
  • Shield Compensation IV
  • Shield Management IV
  • Shield Operation V
  • Tactical Shield Manipulation V
  • Gunnery V
  • Motion Prediction IV
  • Rapid Firing IV
  • Sharpshooter IV
  • Small Artillery Specialization IV
  • Small Projectile Turret V
  • Surgical Strike IV
  • Afterburner IV
  • Evasive Manuevering IV
  • Navigation V
  • Thermodynamics IV

That’s quite the list, but still minimized from the first time we looked at this ship together. I’m a firm believer in training to level 5 when the bonus is justified, and there are additional supplemental skills that will be of use to you, depending on your fit.

FITTING:

Now here is where things become a little depressing for our beautiful Firetail that we have such fondness of. Using EFT (which I know isn’t always reflective of ingame performance), I did up what I consider to be a decent Firetail fitting. I then compared it against my Dramiel fit, and a couple of my Rifter fits, and came to the sad understanding of why I haven’t undocked any of my Firetail frigates in months. They are simply without advantage anymore.

VIEW BATTLECLINIC FITTING

HIGHS:

  • 2 x 280mm Scout Artillery I – go big or go home
  • Rocket Launcher II – just in case anything comes close and you want to pulverize it

MIDS:

  • 1mn Afterburner II – Can swap for MWD, but I prefer being able to keep my speed, thanks
  • Medium F-S9 Regolith Shield Induction – If I’m going to passive tank, it’s going to be the biggest buffer I can possibly fit
  • Republic Fleet Warp Disruptor – 30 km range is nice when kiting about
  • X5 Prototype I Engine Enervator – Again, if anything comes close, I don’t want it going away

LOWS:

  • 2 x Republic Fleet Gyrostabilizers – makes boom boom even better
  • Micro B88 Core Augmentation – the downfall of the Firetail. Always hard to get enough capacitor from it

RIGS:

  • Small Projectile Burst Aerator I
  • Small Core Defence Field Extender I
  • Small Auxilary Thrusters I

AMMO:

  • Republic Fleet Fusion S
  • Republic Fleet EMP S
  • Phalanx Rage Rockets

By no means is this the definitive fit of the Firetail. In fact, I’m hoping some others will comment and criticize, perhaps rekindling my one time passion for the Firetail.

Make no mistake, I still think the Republic Fleet Firetail is a damn sexy ship; I just don’t see anymore what it can do that a Rifter can’t, and for much cheaper.

FIT # 2 BASED ON USER COMMENTS
Updated: 02/10/2010

VIEW AT BATTLECLINIC

[Republic Fleet Firetail, Renegade]
Republic Fleet Gyrostabilizer
Republic Fleet Gyrostabilizer
Damage Control II

1MN MicroWarpdrive II
Pithi C-Type Small Shield Booster
Republic Fleet Warp Disruptor
[empty med slot]

250mm Light ‘Scout’ Artillery I, Republic Fleet Fusion S
250mm Light ‘Scout’ Artillery I, Republic Fleet Fusion S
‘Arbalest’ Standard Missile Launcher, Caldari Navy Piranha Light Missile

Small Projectile Burst Aerator I
Small Auxiliary Thrusters I
Small Core Defence Field Extender I

This still leaves an empty mid slot, but I cannot squeeze anything more in! As mentioned previously, I have all level 5 skills for this particular ship.

End of Tyranny

Posted by Roc Wieler on

DAL I – TRIBAL LIBERATION FORCE LOGISTIC SUPPORT
HEIMATAR REGION

“The end of Amarr Tyranny has begun! The consistent efforts of our guerilla warfare small squad activities has reduced the morale of our enemy! They flee at the very sight of us!”

*applause*

“The time for large fleet battles has ended. This has never been a war of attrition; never been an effort of wastefully spending lives. This is a war of survival, and survive we have! We have liberated dozens of systems, billions of lives, and we have only just begun!

Now is the time to redouble our push forward into enemy territory! Now is the time to stand proud as Matari and let loose our cry for freedom! Now is the time to seize opportunity and send a message to the Amarr that will leave the entire galaxy trembling!”

*applause*

“We are the Republic! There is no room for compromise in our lives. There is no room for piracy. Let it be known that we hold ourselves to a higher standard, a higher calling; and we will not accept convenient morality. We will not accept wavering conscience. We stand for what is right. We stand for what is just. We stand, and we shall not fall!”

*applause and standing ovation*

—

24 HOURS LATER
V2-VC2 – V2 FREEDOMS FORGE
CATCH REGION

“The end of Amarr Tyranny has begun! The consistent efforts of our fleets have smashed the resistance in D-GTMI, reducing their forces to rubble. CVA will surely not recover. Their morale has been pulverized! Their allies flee at the very sight of us!”

*applause*

“The time for large fleet battles has ended. This has never been about attrition, wastefully spending lives and isk. This is a war of dominance, and dominate we have! We have secured our holdings in this region, even the GoonSwarm collapses before our might, and we have only just begun!”

*applause*

“We are Ushra’Khan! We are the Republic! There is no room for compromise in our lives. There is no room for piracy. Let it be known that we hold ourselves to a higher standard, a higher calling; and we will not accept convenient morality from our ‘leaders’ in Empire space. We will not accept wavering conscience. We stand for what is right. We stand for what is just. Brothers and sisters, we stand; and we shall not fall!”

*applause and standing ovatoin*

—

24 HOURS LATER
XX9-WV – UNDISCLOSED POS
CURSE REGION

“The end of piracy has begun! The consistent efforts of our guerilla warfare small squad activities has reduced the morale of our enemy! They flee at the very sight of us!”

*applause*

“The time for large fleet battles has ended. As we push deeper into wormhole space, into Sleeper territories, we cannot afford attrition, the wasteful spending of valuable lives! Nullsec is a war of survival, and survive we have! We have raided the Sleepers, we have struck mighty blows against the Angel Cartel, and we have only just begun!

Now is the time to redouble our push forward into the homes of our enemies! Now is the time to stand in their own backyards and let loose our cry of challenge! Now is the time to seize opportunity and send a message to the Angel Cartel and the Sleepers that will leave them trembling!”

*applause*

“We are the first line of defence against these threats to the Republic! There is no room for compromise in our lives. There is no room for the Angel Cartel or their allies. Let it be known that we hold ourselves to a higher standard, a higher calling; and we will not accept convenient morality from those that would dictate our lives from Empire space. We will not accept wavering conscience, and back room politics. We stand for what we believe is right. We stand for what is just. We stand, and we shall not fall!”

*applause and standing ovation*

—

24 HOURS LATER
RENS VII – MOON 20 – SISTERS OF EVE BUREAU
HEIMATAR REGION

Roc Wieler tunes his guitar.

In the waiting audience of the sold-out concert, Mynxee smiles, thinking of the punchline to the joke only she knows.

[OOC]Progress Report

Posted by Roc Wieler on

You’re probably thinking this is where I reveal my current skill training plan, exposing my alts and my collective abilities for you to take advantage of should we ever meet ingame.

Or maybe you think this is where I boast of my weekly killmail totals, swinging my virtual manhood around for all to marvel at its girth and glory.

You’d be mistaken on both counts. This is where I take great pride in some real life accomplishments, and hopefully inspire others in their efforts at a better lifestyle.

THE CHALLENGE:

Jan 1st, 2010, the gauntlet was thrown down on Twitter #tweetfleet and #eveonline as to who would meet their New Year’s fitness goals first.

I was 220 lbs at that time. I have been consistently working out for 2.5 years, and started at 33% body fat.

PROGRESS REPORT:

Today I am proud to say I am 208 lbs, 14% body fat. I look more ripped than I ever have before. I feel light on my feet, fast like a tiger, full of energy and vigor for life.

Be encouraged, friends. I used to eat a large bag of potato chips for dinner while laying on the couch playing XBox 360. Less than three years later, I maintain a healthy lifestyle, still play video games, and manage to have time leftover for other hobbies and pursuits.

BECAUSE YOU CAN:

My trainer tells me it’s all mind over matter. There is always one more repetition left; always one more push beyond our perceived limits. And it’s all true.

I want to share with you the workout I did today. It consists of five circuits, with no rest inbetween exercises, 30 seconds rest between circuits. The entire workout took me 50 minutes to do. I was covered head to toe in blinding sweat, completely winded, but still smiling in the gym mirror when all was said and done. I couldn’t feel my legs; my arms wouldn’t stop shaking, and my abs threatened to forcibly expel my lunch from earlier.

All in all, a great workout day.

Circuit 1:

– pushups to fail – 73 achieved

– incline bicep curls – 20 per arm – 25 lbs used

– hammer curls – to fail – 25 achieved, 25 lbs used

– bodyball flies with crunches – 25 reps – 25 lbs used(the crunch is performed at the peak of the fly, keeping the arms straight and extended)

– butt kicks – 2 minutes – 1 set left/right per second pace

Circuit 2:

– bodyball crunches – to fail – 93 achieved (keep elbows out wide by head)

– 20 rock star jumps

– reverse crunches – to fail – 62 achieved

– 20 knee tuck jumps

– jumping jacks – 2 minutes – 1 per second pace

Circuit 3:

– static sumo squats with military press– hold 20 reps – 35 lbs used

– chair pose – 1 minute

– hack squats – 25 reps – 25 lbs used

– jump squats – to fail – 17 achieved

– static lunge with military press – 15 per side – 15 lbs used (do the military press on the way down into the lunge)

Circuit 4:

– bodyball pushups – 15 reps

– frog pushups – 15 reps

– pushups – to fail – 7 achieved

– butt kicks – 2 minutes – 1 set left/right per second pace

– jumping jacks – 2 minutes – 1 per second pace

Circuit 5:

– hanging ab twist – 20 per side (second half of video)

– hanging ab lifts – 20 reps (first half of video)

– bodyball crunches – to fail – 104 achieved

– boat pose – 1 minute (legs straight)

CLOSING THOUGHTS:

You might have read this and thought “What an arrogant prick!”, and you know what? I’m ok with that. I’ve worked very hard to get where I am now, and do indeed take great pride and confidence in where I am, and where I am going.

So ask yourself, “Are you happy with where you’re going? Do you have the body you want? The energy level you want? Do you get tired easy? Lose stamina too quickly? Do you think it’s too difficult? Are you afraid of failure?”

If you answered negatively to any of those, then you were me nearly three years ago.

There is no magic secret. There is no internet ad that can help, even though I’m starting to sound like one. Truth is, it’s consistency.

Consistently be active. Consistently eat right. That’s really it. Oh so simple, yet oh so very hard.

Be well, my friends!

Baby Octopus Salad

Posted by Roc Wieler on

Some of you would like to think I’m kidding with these recipes. I’m not. I try out every recipe possible before posting, to ensure it’s something I myself would eat. Take today’s recipe, for example.

While stranded on the waterworld of Rybar Tekh VII, I found myself in the position of having to make do with what was available once again. Fishing was difficult at best in the rough and savage ocean, but I soon discovered from the local indigenous population that is was Octopus birthing season; that meants literally thousands of baby octopi were available for those who would snatch them. (Hmmm, octopie, that would make an interesting recipe also)

Turns out baby octopus are cheap, healthy, and good eating when done up right.

Baby Octopus Salad

INGREDIENTS:

  • 4 oz baby octopus
  • 8 oz mixed greens
  • 4 oz broccoli florets
  • 4 oz carrots
  • 4 oz red onion
  • 2 tbsp chili garlic sauce
  • 2 tbsp minced garlic
  • 2 tbsp black pepper
  • 1 tbsp lime juice

METHOD:

  1. Cook baby octopus in a steamer for 60 minutes.
  2. Chop up all your vegetables into bite sized pieces. With a food processor, this takes about 5 minutes.
  3. In a small bowl, mix chili garlic sauce, minced garlic, lime juice and black pepper until blended evenly.
  4. At 30 minutes, add vegetables to steamer.
  5. Place mixed greens into a large tupperware bowl.
  6. When steamer finished, add octopus, vegetables, and sauce from the small bowl to the tupperware.
  7. Shake until mixed well.

The nice thing about this recipe is nearly everything in it can be swapped out to taste. Don’t like mixed greens? Try spinach, or romaine, or any other type of leafy food you like. Don’t like broccoli, carrots and red onion? Swap it out for any three vegetables of choice. I find eggplant, fennel and yellow peppers go nicely together. Don’t like what’s in the sauce? Make your own. Dijon Mustard sauce mixed with artichoke hearts, fat free ranch dressing with Mrs. Dash, they’re all good.

In fact, I enjoy this particular recipe so much, I had it for lunch yesterday, and am having it again today.

Baby Octopus is cheap and available at almost any grocery store.

Command

Posted by Roc Wieler on

As I started writing today’s memoir, I found myself struggling; deleting what I had already recorded, pausing while giving serious consideration to the topic, realizing there is no definite answer to the question I had posed to myself when motivated to pen this in the first place.

What is command?

—

“Colonel Wieler, what brings you to -A- space?” Paik asked cordially. I was enroute through nullsec towards Ushra’Khan’s primary station of operations in Catch Region. Unfortunately, Kinda’Shujaa’s director hadn’t established our status as allies ahead of time; something that would’ve been useful for me to research prior to my trip. On the plus side, I was flying a cloaked Hound stealth bomber named Tique, having already acquired a healthy paranoia from my solo flights in Curse Region.

“Requesting blue status, sir. Kinda’Shujaa is the Ushra’Khan’s military division, fighting the good fight against the Amarr. I’ve come here to offer my services to our alliance, and their partners, of which -A- is most notable. Unfortunately, I’m KOS right now, which is making for a nerve wracking flight.”

“One moment, Colonel. As a diplomatic liason for -A-, and already being familiar with your career record, this shouldn’t take long.”

“Understood, sir. I appreciate your assistance in this matter. Wieler out.”

—

Is it rank? Perhaps authority? Power, respect, inspiration, leadership?

On the surface, they might seem like simple answers we each can answer for ourselves, but therein lies the issue; defining command is as unique and individual as our own personal experiences with the subject matter itself. One might find a defined approach exemplary, while another might find that same methodology deplorable.I suppose that is one more thing to add to the mix of questions when trying to derive an answer: Do those commanded determine what is good command?

—

“Your status has been set to blue, Colonel. Welcome to Catch.” Paik notified me shortly thereafter. Already I was impressed with the efficiency of diplomatic process out here; back in Empire, there would’ve been countless channels and endless red tape to get a security request of this nature processed. Seems the nullsec alliances knew how to cut to the chase.

“Roger that, sir. And thanks.” I replied.

“Not a problem, Roc. And lose the sir out here; we’re all brothers. Paik out.”

No small talk. No wasting time. I was feeling better about this with each passing moment.

—

My initial conclusion is that I can only share my own opinion; I cannot hope to authoritatively define command, and have others take it as fact. I can only attempt to present my point of view with supplemental arguments, and let any readers of this page extract from it what they will.

—

V2-VC2
V2 FREEDOMS FORGE STATION
USHRA’KHAN SOVEREIGNTY

“Your request for docking permission has been denied, Colonel Wieler. I advise you to put some distance between yourself and this facility now.” the docking manager stated over the comm.

I wasn’t a fool. Sitting cloaked 70 km off of the station, I had already watched several battleships, cruisers, interdictors, and every other type of ship in the Ushra’Khan armada fly by. There was only one opportunity to make a first impression, and if that went poorly, there might likely not be a chance for a second impression.

“Understood. Tique leaving station perimeter. Could I trouble you to be put in touch with someone with the authority to grant docking access?” I inquired.

“Not my job, pilot. You’ll need to talk to a diplomat.” he replied with disdain and annoyance in his voice.

“Roger that.” I disconnected the comm.

—

Every individual experiences the responsibility of command at some point in their lives: whether it’s with offspring, coworkers, pets, or even just themselves, command is an aspect of humanity that we all must learn to further progress our own, or someone else’s, objectives.

—

“Sorry to trouble you again, sir.” I said to Paik in a private comm.

“No trouble. And stop calling me sir.” Paik replied with humour in his voice.

“I need to get in touch with a U’K diplomat. I know you might not be the best suited to ask this, but you’re the only person I know in this region currently. Could you help me out?”

There was silence on the other end of the comm for a few moments too long.

“Get in touch with Maestro Ulv. He’s expecting you now. Paik out.”

—

Master Cho had commanded me with intimidation and violence. I feared failure. The cost of failure was often physically brutal and unrelenting. Through Master Cho I had come to fear God. Eternal damnation because of fate choosing the race I was born was more frightening than any of the beatings I had suffered at Master Cho’s hand. There came a point in my adolescent life where I no longer respected Cho, but the fear remained.

Fear is a tool of command.

—

“THE Roc Wieler, geez. What brings you out here, celebrity?” Maestro Ulv chirped cheerfully. Great. A fan. Well, at least I could use that to my advantage.

“I’m having some issues acquiring docking permissions in V2-VC2, sir. I was hoping you could help me out.” I replied in as friendly a demeanour as I could muster. I was growing impatient and trigger happy. It was taxing on the nerves being a minnow in a sea of hungry sharks.

“Hmmm, nobody showing online and available status with authority over that station. Let me see what I can do, though I can’t promise this will happen quickly. You ok waiting?” he asked, genuine concern creeping into his voice.

“Just sitting cloaked outside of the station perimeter for the last hour or so. What’s a few more?” I said, trying to appear lighthearted with just enough sarcasm to let him know I was losing patience.

“Understood.” Ulv said through laughter. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

—

Blade Commander Stone was a man I respected. Even though he was my basic training officer when I joined the Tribal Liberation Force, which to most would harbour immediate resentment, I admired the man. He was harsh, strict, disciplinary, reprimanding when needed, but never with malice or hatred. He was a soldier, and a professional, through and through. I learned a lot from Commander Stone, and attribute him with the disciplined attitude I have today in all I do.

Respect is a tool of command.

—

Several hours passed, filled with growing trepidation. Every wing of ships that docked and undocked seemed to pass closer to my cloaked ship, threatening to break my veil of invisibility. I had blue status to U’K of course, but my instincts still told me to be wary. This was there territory after all, and I was the unwelcome visitor still.

“Alright, I’ve had you cleared. You should be able to dock now.” Ulv announced unexpectedly.

“Thank you, sir, for your diligence.” I replied, moving my Hound, Tique, towards the station, requesting permission to dock.

“No problem at all, Roc. Quit calling me sir. It bugs people out here. We’re all brothers.”

“Military training, sir … brother. I will do my very best to adapt to your standards.”

Ulv laughed. “Relax, Colonel. Things aren’t all by the rules out here. It’s a lot more casual than what you’re used to, I’m sure. You’ll be fine. What are you flying anyway?”

“Hound, sir.” I replied without thinking.

“You torpedo capable then?” Ulv asked, his rising curiousity evident in his voice.

“Not yet, … brother, but I can be if needed.”

“I’d start training it up. Definitely a need for that out here. I look forward to flying with you, Colonel. Enjoy your stay in Catch. Ulv out.”

—

Valkear General Sasawong was an inspiration to us all. His unrelenting aggression against the 24th Imperial Crusade had sent tremors of doubt throughout their ranks for years. Wherever the action was, there was Sasawong on the front lines, leading our pilots to victory after victory against our oppressive, tyrannical enemy. There were stories told of his feats for decades, inspiring new generation of pilots, and even though I was considered an old veteran by then, Sasawong had been not only a friend to me, but an inspiration as well. He practiced what he preached; he led by example, not by textbook theory. He put his money where his mouth was, and when needed, he could always be counted to stand the gap.

Inspiration is a tool of command.

—

“Tique cleared to dock, Hound pilot Wieler.” The docking manager said over the comm. “Please proceed to birth 72A-12. Steam shower and fresh clothes will be waiting for you upon pod egress. Have a nice day.”

That made me grunt in amusement. A fresh shower, clean clothes; Ushra’Khan paid attention to the details that mattered to its pilots. Nobody liked walking around in their own pod filth.

“Roger that. Wieler out.”

Half an hour later I headed to the pilots lounge, the entire time surprised to see how active and busy the station was. There weren’t many civilians here, just contractors under Ushra’Khan employ to meet the many needs of the V2 Freedoms Forge station.

I was warmly greeted by the other pilots there, and quickly we were swapping tales of glory.

“So they want you on stealth bomber duty? That should be amusing for a while.” a young, female Caldari pilot said to me. She had rejected the ideals of her people only two years ago, choosing to stand alongside the Republic instead of standing idly by watching Tibus Heth destroy the her beloved Caldari State. Of course, Tibeth Heth had proven more than capable, and with his military prowess had completely conquered all contested Gallente systems months before.

I don’t recall how many hours I spent there, enjoying my newfound brothers and sisters in arms, or how much beer we drank, but I had no trouble fitting in. It felt like home.

—

Maleatu Shakor stood with his arms behind his back, gazing out over the capital city of Pator, breathing deeply. He had come so far in his career, overcome so many obstacles. The Republic was in disarray around him, and that burden ultimately fell squarely on his shoulders. He was the leader of the Minmatar Republic. He was the embodiment of all his people strived to be. He was a fair man, an intelligent man, one which could see the endgame approaching, and knew he had to play his pieces carefully in order to achieve the victory he desired. Shakor understood the affect power could have, the influence position gave. How he used those understandings would shape the fate of an entire people.

Power is a tool of command.
Position is a tool of command.

—

I reported for duty the following morning, my pilot suit pressed and cleaned, walking tall with proud posture, my boots polished. I was ready to work under the command of whomever the Ushra’Khan had in place for the stealth bomber squadron.

“Colonel Wieler.” a pilot of unknown rank greeted me. I saluted crisply. With only a slight hesitation, he returned the salute. I remained standing at full attention.

“Your pilots should be here shortly; not everyone is as punctual as you it would appear.” he said, a smile on his face. I had been ordered to report for duty at 0900. It was 0900. There was no room for being late in the world I knew.

This wasn’t my world.

Then his words sank in… my pilots.

“Sir?” I asked. He frowned his brow.

“You really need to lose that shit, Wieler. It’s gonna look condescending, like you’re better than us, and nobody wants to fly for a smart ass ego prick. We’re all equals. Better get used to that and quick. Good luck on your first flight with the Ushra’Khan, Colonel.”

With that, he walked away, leaving me to figure out what the hell had just happened. Had my reputation proceeded me? I had led many fleets before, but had been working mostly on solo ops for a good eight months. I hadn’t a pod kill to my name in almost as long a period.

As my pilots slowly staggered in to report for duty, I realized once again I was a wing commander.

What kind of commander would I prove to be?

TO-416

Posted by Roc Wieler on

TO-416
0.0 SPACE

I arrived without incident at the assigned meeting place; a small neutral station orbiting the third planet’s single moon of this system’s yellow sun. Aura brought me up some general information on the planet: close to 7 billion inhabitants, mostly industrial, prone to war with a history of trying to kill themselves; sounded like every other terrestrial planet I knew of.

After securing the Ripsack, my Jaguar class assault frigate, and a thorough steam rinse to cleanse myself from the last evidences of my capsuleer status, I grabbed a fresh set of clothes and headed for the “Loose Moose”, a favoured pub and grill on the station.

The place was packed with civilians of all races and cultural status; the constant chatter and delicious aroma of foods distracting at best. After speaking briefly with the hostess, a cute young Achura (weren’t they all?), I made my way to a secluded back room. Capsuleers were a private bunch for the most part, and the more isolated we could be from the rest of the patrons, the better.

I was the first to arrive, typical of a soldier to actually show up on time. I took advantage of the opportunity to walk around the joint a bit, making mental note of emergency exits, surveying for anyone in the crowd that stuck out of the ordinary. Eventually, I met the pub’s owner, a rather large and raunchy Brutor woman in her mid – late fifties. The naming of the place became self-evident.

I ordered a platter of wings and a few pitchers of beer, then made my way back to our private room, seating myself with my back to a corner with a clear view of the only entryway into the room, and waited for the other “guests” to arrive.

The invited pod pilots slowly began to trickle in. They were easy to identify; they looked around just as warily as I had. We were a paranoid bunch, and with good reason; it wasn’t every day an interracial group of capsuleers gathered in one location; it was just asking for trouble.

We made our informal greetings with each other, engaging in small talk, and as more pilots arrived, small cliques broke off to separate tables, finding comfort in race and topic of conversation.

I sat alone in the corner, absorbing it all.

To my delighted surprise, PyjamaSam arrived not long after. While we often stayed in touch via NeoCom, it was rare for us to meet me in the flesh, so to speak. I jumped up from my seat, crossing the room in large strides, wrapping Sam in a fierce hug. I was tempted to pick him up off the ground. In typical PyjamaSam fashion, he started right in with the friendly “jibes” he constantly made at my expense. It had been one of the foundations of our friendship, our sarcastic banter, and he was just as thick skinned as me in that regard, able to take what he gave in stride.

“This is why we need to get you a good woman.” PyjamaSam said, as I released him from my embrace.

“Bit of an oxymoron there, ain’t it?” I replied, a smile across my face.

“Oooh, learned a big new word did ya?” Sam replied without missing a beat. That is how our conversations went. We both knew he was arrogant; perhaps even more arrogant than I was. However, Sam was one of the only people I knew that could fully back up his self-righteousness with accomplishment, and while insanely infuriating at times, it had to be respected. The man was simply brilliant.

More and more pilots arrived, and soon our little clique of two grew into a group of eight, all engaged in eating, drinking and rude conversation, swinging our manhoods around, boasting of our own accomplishments one to another.

That is when I noticed Gigaer.

He took me by surprise, appearing less than four feet from me before I became aware of him. It was a neat trick. He always managed to skulk around, even when not meaning to. I hadn’t expected Gigaer here, and I wasn’t sure it was a welcome surprise. The man had a profound way of disrupting my life. Still, I at least needed to be cordial.

“Gigaer.” I nodded in his direction.

“Good to see you again, Roc Wieler of the Ushra’Khan.” He smirked knowingly, piercing me to my core. It had been in one of his visions that he saw me joining the Ushra’Khan, as part of my journey of self-discovery, part of my destiny to one day rule the Republic. And while I wouldn’t buy into his delusions of grandeur, and he himself admitted that the future was always in motion (please don’t sue me George!), his visions had a strange way of coming to pass.

Thankfully, he sensed my discomfort, and nodding once towards me, moved towards another group.

After ninety minutes of this, the assembled pilots were starting to become restless, as our benefactor, the organizer of this event, was mysteriously absent. To me, it smelled like a trap. To have managed to convince so many pod jockeys to gather in one place, then not make an appearance yourself was either incredibly suspicious, or piss poor time management.

I chose the former.

After clearing my tab, and paying for Sam’s meal, I said some quick goodbyes, and took my leave of the function, expecting to hear about some terrorist act to befall them all within the next few hours on the Scope News.

Later that evening, I did indeed receive news via my NeoCom, but it wasn’t what I had expected. Our organizer had exhausted himself earlier in flight, and missed his wake up alarm. He had overslept, apologizing profusely to those of us whom had made the effort to meet.

He wanted to try assembling together again, but wanted our input as to a time and place, to assuage any concerns we might have. Personally, I liked the Loose Moose, and would’ve been happy to meet there.

Only time would tell what would occur in the small nullsec system of TO-416.