RECEIVED AFTER THE EVENTS OF 113.1.23
Colonel Wieler: For Your Eyes Only

The Promised Land encounter was essentially a brief massacre of Syne/FCORD forces by Nation supporters (Including Kuvakei and Astur) and pirates (Rote Kapelle and HORN).

Kuvakei and Astur sat on top of a wormhole in their Revenants, accompanied by the Sansha loyalist Ghost Hunter in a Chimera.

[ 113.01.23 23:02:20 ] Master Kuvakei: As long as we have this ship, we can strike anywhere, anytime we please.
[ 113.01.23 23:05:05 ] Master Kuvakei: Activating stargate interference subroutine.
[ 113.01.23 23:07:19 ] Master Kuvakei: Maintaining order is only difficult for authorities lording over individuals.
[ 113.01.23 23:07:24 ] Master Kuvakei: That is not how Nation operates.
[ 113.01.23 23:15:09 ] Master Kuvakei: Launching fighters. Capsuleer force approaching. ((Said as Syne fleet was about to enter))
[ 113.01.23 23:22:42 ] Master Kuvakei: Pathetic.
[ 113.01.23 23:26:26 ] Master Kuvakei: I will free you from your individuality.
[ 113.01.23 23:28:11 ] Master Kuvakei: Do you see now? Without your king, you are just a pack of wild animals, clawing at one another.
[ 113.01.23 23:28:25 ] Master Kuvakei: If you would but accept my offer, I would show you unity, civility beyond anything you could possibly imagine.
[ 113.01.23 23:36:17 ] Master Kuvakei: Testing conduit…
[ 113.01.23 23:38:43 ] Citizen Astur: Nation forces active. All units on standby.
[ 113.01.23 23:38:50 ] Master Kuvakei: Conduit complete.
[ 113.01.23 23:44:23 ] Master Kuvakei: Thirty minutes until signal harmonics are stabilized and portal alpha is rendered permanent.
[ 113.01.23 23:47:02 ] Citizen Astur: Securing portal generator. 28:00 until redeployment.
[ 113.01.23 23:50:46 ] Master Kuvakei: Do you see now? I wasn’t bringing you to the Promised Land, I was bringing the Promised Land to you.
[ 113.01.23 23:51:12 ] Master Kuvakei: Portal Alpha will remain as a direct conduit to me and the rest of Nation.
[ 113.01.23 23:51:21 ] Master Kuvakei: But this isn’t where it ends; this is where it begins.
[ 113.01.23 23:57:23 ] Master Kuvakei: When you tire of crawling through the darkness, know that there is always a Promised Land awaiting you. Here, you will be able to connect with my Nation and bask in the glory of its radiance.
[ 113.01.24 00:01:18 ] Citizen Astur: Securing portal generator. 15:00 until redeployment.
[ 113.01.24 00:07:47 ] Citizen Astur: Securing portal generator. 8:00 until redeployment.
[ 113.01.24 00:15:48 ] Citizen Astur: Conduit established. Portal generator secured.
[ 113.01.24 00:16:07 ] Master Kuvakei: My children, the conduit remains. We are victorious.
[ 113.01.24 00:19:17 ] Master Kuvakei: For you, my chosen ones, there is light on the horizon. For all those who oppose us, there are dark days ahead… ((Kuvakei, accompanied by Astur, disappear through the wormhole at this point))

Both the Obray and Algintal constellations within Gallente space are under attack, reports are filtering through about other attacks spread across the galaxy… I’m sure your primary focus will be on protecting the Minmatar Republic and I wish you luck.

Fly Safe.

Your loyal friend,
G-104

I believe in leadership. From personal experience I know that you’re only as good as your wingmate. Any fleet commander worth their salt should be able to tell you personal details about every pilot flying under their command. Without those personal relationships, how can we trust one another? The foundations of our universe are sown in mistrust, the harsh realities of survival in New Eden enveloping us on a daily basis.

But why must it be so?

In my NeoCom:

Roc,

With the impending threat of Sansha incursions looming, I am writing to offer my services.

Since entering the ranks of the capsuleer in YC111, I have been training tirelessly for combat. Of Caldari birth, I have utilized the resources provided by the State to gain expert proficiency in all of the core competencies, missile launcher operations and other key combat related skills. I’ve complemented this training with “hands-on” experience flying for the Caldari militia.

That said, I realize that there is still much for me to learn. Unlike my pre-capsuleer life, I’ve found few pilots that I consider “friends”.

Some of this is likely self-inflicted. I do spend a good deal of time out of my pod, offline and planet side. My employment has been with more industry focused corporations. Caldari culture, with it’s focus on competition and commerce, seems to engender a culture of acquaintances.

Most important is the fact that the Caldari State’s indifference to the despicable Amarrian practice of slavery has made me question where I should be placing my loyalties. I am no ally to the Amarr, this much I know to be true.

And that is my dilemma – I have spent several years training to fight, but now that I am ready, I realize that I don’t know what I should be fighting for.

Then I realized that, perhaps, I should not be asking “what” I am fighting for, but for whom?

So I send you this message. I am familiar with your exploits, as is every pilot of the State Protectorate, and I seek the opportunity to fly for you.

Regards,

Roniin Ashe

Roniin, I am flattered by your undeserving praise. I can empathize with your plight; you seem to be of noble heart and righteous spirit. It doesn’t surprise me in the least that the alliance between the State and the Empire troubles you so. No good can come from that union. To me, it is a short sighted convenience, a preemptive defense on Tibus Heth’s part to divert the attention of the Empress away from your people.

You cannot fly for me.

The Masuat’aa Matari are a close knit group of kin. We are Matari, in body, soul and mind. We are compelled to our task, unable to turn from the injustices in this galaxy. My corporation directors wouldn’t stand for me having an ex-Protectorate pilot under my command.

Of course, that is the interesting thing about leadership. If I truly believe that paths can be chosen, that we are not born into our fate, and can create our own destinies, then I also must lead by example, I must chisel out my own path.

I would be honoured if you would fly with me.

If these recent incursions by the Sansha Nation have taught me anything it is that all of us share one common belief: the citizens of this galaxy deserve better. While our views on what that actually entails may differ, our intentions are pure. This doesn’t apply to everyone of course. There are those in our universe that seek nothing but the enforcement of their own will on others, regardless of the wants and needs of those they choose to subjugate. History has shown us repeatedly that populations will never rest under this type of tyranny. This is why Kuvakei will fail. This is why I must not.

Let us fly as equals, as pod pilots, as immortals seeking to make a difference in this galaxy.

I await your reply, friend.

Fly safe.

YULAI SYSTEM
SECURITY STATUS 1.0
GENESIS REGION
CONCORD ASSEMBLY

We had all heard the rumour; Kuvakei had declared his intention to eliminate CONCORD. Yulai was one of the few bastions of peace in the galaxy; it didn’t get safer than living in a CONCORD system. As my Rifter cleared entry customs, I felt a strong and surreal sensation looking across the solar system. Despite Aura’s confirmation from my personal tracking logs stating I had never been to the Yulai system, it felt strangely familiar to me. I experienced an inexplicable nostalgia, a homesickness I could not explain.

It was a difficult emotion to rid myself of, even as the tow ships of the Yulai IX – CONCORD Bureau station maneuvered my vessel into a docking berth inside. Traffic within the station was severely congested, as pod pilots from all over New Eden arrived for the impending battle.

I switched on the local comm channel, being immediately flooded with spam, propaganda, speculation, news reports, gossip mongers, rumour mills, and more. I recognized a few names, both friends and enemies alike, and knew without a doubt that this day promised uncertainty for all.

20:57 HOURS

If the intelligence reports were to be believed, the Sansha Nation would strike on the hour. As my Aura unit performed a final cycle of system checks on the Ripsack, I could see the traffic lanes becoming congested towards the station undocking tubes. There was a CONCORD communique across the public channels, encouraging all citizens to remain planet bound, or to exit the system for their own safety; that CONCORD would protect them against any tangible threat today, as they had for decades past. There was no need for alarm or concern. A quick scanner probe to the surrounding system jump gates spoke volumes to the contrary. The gate rings were so flooded with ships eager to escape that there was no movement whatsoever, nor would their be, I wagered.

As I exited the station, I felt a great trepidation overwhelm me. I was nestled within the center of a circle of six Imperial Abaddons, all aligning slowly to one of the in system planets. Inconspicuously, I maneuvered my agile Rifter in a different direction, and headed for planet five of the system.

It was during warp that Kuvakei hacked the comms network of Yulai, greeting every inhabitant of the system. He promised a better future for all that would embrace his vision, a vow of peace and prosperity in the Promised Land, where none would fall ill or perish; where all would live forever. To my surprise, hundreds of capsuleers responded to his message, hailing their Master, welcoming him to Yulai, pledging themselves to the demise of his enemies. Kuvakei continued, scorning the assembled pod pilots, citing us as arrogant hoarders of old technology, denying all the opportunity to experience eternal life. He blamed us for sustaining the impossible divisions between working classes, holding onto power through tyranny.

He was the saviour of mankind. He would usher in the future.

As I dropped out of warp, I commed my small squad to warp to my location: Niko, Rhade, Nathan, all of us in small and nimble ships, all of us here due to our alliance standing with CONCORD. “Remember”, Niko had said during our briefing, “We’re not here to fight. We’re here to observe; to study the Nation and report back with any weakness we find.” I grumbled then, and as I listened to Kuvakei’s monologue, I grumbled again.

I broadcasted across all channels. “To what end is a future without freedom? You set yourself up as the saviour of mankind, and yet you bring nothing but death and destruction to all you touch. You are not majestic, Sansha; you are malevolent and mad. Look around you. There are over fifteen hundred of us willing to show you how much we value our freedoms, our civilizations, our lives. We will not bow to you. We will not be broken. The best you can hope for today is a quick death, which is more than a monster like you deserves!”

I usually felt better after a good rant, but I will admit that I was truly nervous. I had heard reports of the devastation the Nation had wrought across other systems in New Eden; the Revenant supercarrier was a force never seen before these incursions, and it was definitely a force to be reckoned with.

The chatter continued in local comms, some cheering us on, others jeering. I was surprised Kuvakei even acknowledged me, let alone responded. “Ah yes, the disgraced Colonel who dreams of playing hero. You are but one, Wieler; an insignificant speck in the stars. Your actions are independent of those surrounding you; you are all a disorganized nest of hornets that could never understand the intricacies of mounting a united defense. Your individual minds are no match for the Sansha Nation, so please, dear Colonel, do what you will. I’ve had enough. Begin plasma extraction now!”

Plasma extraction? What?

I closed off local comms, only keeping alive fleet and military channels I had access to. Ships were scrambling, responding to sightings all across the system.

“Supercarrier on P2!”
“Anyone got visual confirmation?”
“Roger that”
“Wormhole at P5. We’ve got inbound!”
“Negative on that. I’ve got no visual!” I replied. It was then I noticed that Aura was performing sluggishly, though whether it was due to the sheer volume of telemetry data in system, or some jamming technology Sansha was employing I couldn’t be sure.
“I’ve got visual on P5 wormhole. It is confirmed.” another pilot stated.

I felt like I was flying blind. I could see no enemy ships on my HUD. In fact, I couldn’t see anything at all; no wormhole, no other ships, nothing. Aura, systems check, I thought quickly, needing answers to questions that my survival would depend on.

Before Aura could finish her diagnostics, all hell broke loose around me. My ship’s sensors finished processing all the telemetry around me. Not only could I see the wormhole, now less than 2500 meters in front of me, I could also see the fifty plus battleships, the fifty plus fighters and destroyers with them, and the supercarrier less than 200 meters dead ahead.

I juked the ship to the left, not something you can do in many subcapital ships, and narrowly avoided colliding with the supercarrier. Unfortunately, my little display had drawn the attention of its commander, and a squad of fighter drones were already locking me down, quickly catching up to the Ripsack. I fired my microwarpdrive. It was completely unresponsive. Lovely.

The fighter drones peppered me with weapons fire, and my shields quickly eroded. My armour tanked Rifter would withstand a few more seconds, and I wanted to make every moment count. I focused on the nearest fighter, opening up a full volley from my 200 mm autocannons. After the initial volley I kept the shells cycling, overheating the rack as much as possible. My microwarpdrive activated of its own accord just as the first fighter drone exploded.

“Supercarrier at the sun! They’re gonna blow it up!”
“What? They’re pulling plasma from the sun?!?!”
“All pilots, engage the supercarrier located at the system’s star. That is our top priority!”

My top priority was not getting slagged, as the remaining two fighters continued to hunt me. I received an incoming message, from an ISD reporter. “As a famous war hero, would you give us a quick report on the situation on Yulai?”

“Now is NOT a good time, reporter.” I barked, turning the channel off.

“Supercarrier P11! I repeat P11!”
“Confirmed on P11, pilot. Need help ASAP!”
“It’s warped from P2! Keep at it!”

Three supercarriers in one system. I had never heard of such a large assault by the Nation before. Between the wormholes and the sheer mass of the super capital ships, I was concerned for the balance of the gravity wells of the system. Kuvakei was either a mad despot, or he had something painful up his sleeve.

As my ship avoided weapons lock from a nearby Caldari cruiser, I did have to acknowledge Kuvakei was right about at least one thing: we were definitely a disorganized bunch…

My armour was failing at less than 25%, and I engaged my warp core, aligning for the nearest jump gate. I had no chance of damaging the supercarrier, and had already lost contact with Nate and Niko. Rhade had withdrawn to the dark side of a nearby moon and cloaked, staying close just in case she could assist me.

I exited warp, knowing the fighters wouldn’t be far behind. I was done here, and let Rhade know I was leaving. Jump Gate Traffic Control, of course, had an entirely different plan for me altogether.

“Your request has been denied, due to your recent aggressive activities.”

Great. The entire system had turned to shit, and some minimum wage switch controller was denying access to one of the only ways out of this system?!?

A tractor beam seized my ship.

The jump gate was processing my request. I was thoroughly confused.

“We are currently experiencing heavier than normal levels of traffic. Your request will be processed in 2m42s. Thank you for your patience. We apologize for any inconvenience.”

Three seconds later, the remaining fighter drones emerged from warp, weapons hot. I returned fire as best I could, but with my ship locked down I was a sitting duck. There was no way I would be able to destroy two fighter drones while immobile.

My armour depleted further, dangerously low at 8% after the first pass of the fighters. I watched, helpless, as they circled, coming in for the killing blow.

A brilliant explosion confused me. A moment later, another ball of light and heat appeared where the drones were. A punisher flew past me, but I couldn’t make out any identifying markings, and my HUD was toast.

A double click in the local emergency channel let me know the identity of my rescuer … Veshta Yoshida, my hated Amarr nemesis throughout the war.

Maybe Kuvakei had it wrong. Maybe we could unite ourselves against the greatest evil this universe had yet seen. Maybe pigs could fly outta my arse while we’re at it.

Hours later, I read the reports from other pilots that remained: the supercarrier at Yulai’s star had been destroyed, the sun saved. The remaining forces withdrew back into their wormholes. Yulai had been saved.

There wasn’t a single account of Kuvakei being on the scene. Coward.

The citizens of Yulai would come to call the assembled pilots of that day “The Saviours of Yulai”. Many relished in the glory of that battle, but it was short lived. Kuvakei had a master plan all along, and it was a masterful stroke none of us had seen coming.

Because I’m pretty too…

Ok, well maybe not so pretty, but the ladies still want me.

I sometimes get asked how I come up with the stories I tell here at Roc’s Ramblings; what is my inspiration?

Let me give you an example:

I am the eldest son of my blue collar family. My father had always been a hard working tradesman, until a back injury forced him to change vocations. Since then, he’s barely made end’s meet financially, but always given his all to support his family. Unfortunately, his quick temper, and inability to control his excessive expressions while raging, have made him intolerable to his community, his own siblings, his wife, and if I’m to be completely honest, me.

Anyone can be a father. It takes someone special to be a dad.

My mother suffered a life threatening illness at the tender age of five. It nearly killed her, but she survived. She’s always been a survivor, bearing tremendous strength of spirit. She was told she would be in a wheelchair by age twenty. Even now in her sixties, she still walks under her own power. She was told she would never bear children. She has three beautiful children, two sons and one daughter. It was my mother that instilled in me my moral sense of right of wrong. It was my mother that helped me understand the spiritual natural of things, to believe in God, and accept the truth that we are more than flesh and blood.

I am my mother’s son.

Then there’s me, the eldest son, as I started off saying. I like to think I’m the good son. I’m the only married child, prosper in my career, do what I can for those around me, family and community, and while my own sense of accomplishment at the life I have carved for myself is seen as arrogance, I still suffer from my own insecurities.

I’m just like everyone else.

My brother went through a rough breakup when he was only sixteen. We’ve all had our hearts broken. His solution was to turn to the bottle. He’s been a drunk for the last twenty years. That’s not to say he’s a bad person. I like my brother as a person. Unfortunately, my brother has never been held accountable for any of his actions throughout his life; there has always been someone there to bail him out of the messes he creates, and always at their own expense, whether it’s financial, emotional, or both.

Recently I discovered my brother is a drug addict, hooked on crack cocaine, if the evidence provided by family is to be believed.

I am sad for my brother.

My sister and I are close now, though I was horrible to her when she was younger. She is the baby of the family. She is tall, beautiful, smart, possessing a strong work ethic and a zest for life I have seen in few people. Like the rest of us, she has had her heart broken, and it left its scars. She doubts herself too much; doesn’t always realize the rarity of the angel she is.

I love my sister dearly.

Like every family, we’ve had our ups and downs. Like every family, we’ve fumbled our way through it. My parents helped raise three children of a deceased friend, and while no parent is perfect, they did the best they could, and I respect them for that. They give everything they have, and more, to those they care about. It’s a sad irony really, as my parents can barely tolerate each other, but give all of their hearts to strangers.

That has been a tremendous strain on my family for the last twenty years.

It was less than five years ago that my brother hit what we thought was rock bottom, and with nowhere to go, returned to the home we were raised in. Despite my protests, they took him in. What was my mother to do? He is her son as well. Once again, my brother wasn’t held accountable. Once again, someone got him out of the bind he was in.

He has chipped in around the house financially, easing the burden on my parents. He holds onto my mother’s bank card, as he has no bank account of his own; under the pretense of depositing her government assistance cheques and helping out. I say pretense because what really has occurred is my brother spending bill money on booze and drugs.

I refuse to help out. I call it tough love.

It was under a year ago that my brother’s misdeeds, combined with my mother’s irrational fear of my father, led them to foreclosure on their home; my childhood home.

I had to step in and help as best I could. The family got through it.

It’s not even six months later, and my brother has sabotaged my family’s efforts again. The new mortgage, through a C rate lender, hasn’t been paid in three months. Combined with lawyer fees, my parents have two days to pay back more than they earn in six months to keep their house.

I cannot help.

As of today, my brother has up and left, moved on, leaving someone else to clean up his mess yet again. My father is leaving my mother, blaming her for the loss of the house and not communicating with him about what was really happening. One of the non-sibling children they raised has been arguing with me on the phone that she will get a place with her boyfriend, taking my mother in and providing care for her. She is eighteen.

I worry what is best for my mother.

So where do I find the ideas I write about? Where does my inspiration come from? It comes from the life around me I live; the lives I see others live. Mine is no different than yours. You can’t write fiction better than life.

We all have obstacles to overcome. None of us have a perfect life. Draw from that. Grow from that. For me, writing is an extension of my emotional growth. It stimulates my mind, helps me find solutions to the hurdles I face, clears my heart and soul of confusion, gaining me a more objective insight into the many decisions I must make.

So what inspires you?

My hope is that you find your own life to be full of inspiration.

Fly safe.

I hate crowds; always have.

You can take an otherwise ordinary individual, docile, selfless to a degree, kind hearted, generally good person; put them in a congested grouping with other similar types of individuals, and suddenly, things change. People become self-important, abrasive, short tempered, hostile, coarse and vulgar, physically violent and possessive. There’s something about crowds that brings out the worst in regular people. If you’ve ever been in a crowd, you understand. It could be rush hour to your job, a once per year sale at your local retailer, a sold-out concert for your favourite performer; it doesn’t really matter.

People, in volume, are stupid.

We’ve all read horror stories of individuals being trampled to death by overly excited masses. We’ve heard of uprisings where the sheer volume of people overwhelmed the controlling party. We’ve watched local authorities call in riot squads when throngs of protesters cross the line.

People, in volume, are dangerously violent.

And doesn’t it amaze you how nothing ever becomes anyone’s fault but yours? I was trapped in a crowded thoroughfare once, was bumped into fairly hard by another Brutor male, who then looked at me with a suddenly confrontational expression, expecting me to apologize for our collision. Look buddy, you’re the one who walked into me; you’re the one who will be doing the apologizing. But it never happens, does it? It’s always the other person’s fault. It’s what leads to road rage during congestion, mass violence where none existed a moment before. I could go on and on.

People, in volume, are ignorant.

So there I was, walking towards a crosswalk during a very busy morning rush hour for the planet I was on. I had researched on my NeoCom and discovered that over 5 million people per day were passed through the transit system each day for this particular country’s capital city. Impressive.

I was about twenty meters from reaching the crosswalk; a dense sea of people between me and the roadway. It didn’t make much of a difference; the roadway was jammed solid as well. Motorists honked at each other as every last person tried to squeeze a little closer, thinking that extra two seconds they might save makes up for the three minutes they have now delayed everyone else. Good logic there, idiot.

Ahead of me, at the crosswalk, I saw an elderly woman, hunched over a very primitive walker. It always saddened me to visit industrial age planets. There was such advanced technology available in the galaxy, but so much of the universe was still impoverished; unable to advance due to cost restrictions, governments living in fear, and a plethora of other meaningless reasons.

I had noticed her as I approached the crosswalk. I tried to take note of anyone or anything that stood out as unusual. She struck me as unusual simply due to the fact that she had been trying to cross this street for several sets of lights, but was unable to, partially due to her limited mobility, and partially due to the fact that the motorists were absolute morons, not yielding the right of way to her even where local law obviously stated such.

It infuriated me.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” I said upon reaching the crosswalk. I spoke as gently as I could, not to alarm the woman. “Would it be ok if I offered my assistance?” I smiled encouragingly, sweeping my arm broadly towards the intersection she needed to cross.

Her initial reaction to being spoken to was of slight fear. She recoiled, but then her eyes opened up wide with excitement. She nodded enthusiastically before finally giving her consent. “Yes. Yes dear. That would be wonderful.”

Within a few seconds, the crosswalk indicated we had the right of way. Of course, between us and the other side of the avenue were several lanes of cars illegally positioned right over the designated crossing area.

Lovely.

I motioned for the woman to stay still, then walked out into traffic. The cars slowly made their way past, but the crosswalk indicator was warning us not to start walking, as the light was about to change.

I held my ground in the first lane.

I put my hand out in front of me, gesturing the oncoming vehicle to stop. If it didn’t, this would’ve seriously hurt, but as I expected, people, despite their assholish natures, weren’t entire stupid. The vehicle stopped right in front of me, its driver fuming with anger, his hand held to the horn of his vehicle. I politely smiled, and gestured for the elderly woman I was assisting to make her way across.

She smiled and slowly started her long journey.

While my one hand kept the first lane of traffic at bay, I positioned my body into the second lane of traffic, raising my other to stop the oncoming traffic there. The first vehicle completely ignored me, coming perilously close as it sped by, but the second vehicle stopped. Its driver didn’t bother with the horn, opting instead to get out of his vehicle and deal with the situation personally.

He opened his mouth to yell at me, and I could only imagine the obscenities that were coming my way. Before that could happen, I established myself as the alpha male.

A bright flash of anger tore through me, exposing every vein in my neck and forehead, flushing my skin crimson, and giving my already harsh voice extra volume and edge. “If you even think of opening your mouth right now, I will put my size 10 boot so far up your ass that you’ll be shitting shoelaces for a year.” Seeing as how I had done that very thing in the past to someone, I must’ve had a very convincing performance, as the man withered before me, retreating back into the perceived safety of his vehicle.

The elderly lady had successfully crossed two lanes of traffic. I looked in our direction of travel; only four more lanes of traffic to go.

It took about fifteen minutes, but we finally made it across intact. It was quite the adventure. The saddest part for me was the crowd of spectators that had gathered to watch our little escapade, reinforcing to me that such random acts of kindness were indeed rare to these people.

Once I had made sure the woman was no longer out of breath, and could continue on her own, I thanked her for the honour of allowing me to assist her, and wished her a good day. It made my heart feel good to do what I could, when I could. That particular day wasn’t so important that fifteen minutes would make or break it.

She looked at me with what I thought was simple gratitude, but there was something about the way her eyes shined with unadulterated admiration that unsettled me. Then she spoke.

“It was my pleasure to see you again, Colonel Wieler.”

I froze on the spot. I had been travelling incognito, and I was 100% sure I had never met this woman before in my life. Quietly, I huddled over her, and said, “I’m sorry, but have we met?”

She chuckled lightly, coughing, smiling the entire time. “Oh yes, but it was many, many years ago, my old friend; long before you were a Matar Colonel; long before you started calling yourself Roc Wieler.”

A stab of panic raced around my entire nervous system. I had no idea what this woman was talking about. Old friend? How could that be? She must’ve been ninety!

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but you must have me confused with someone else.” I replied.

She shook her head firmly.

“You never forget the man that saved your life.” she said, “especially when I was only six years old.” Her frail, dry hand reached up and gently cupped my face. “But you haven’t changed one bit since that day ninety seven years ago.”

Without thinking, I stepped back, horrified at what this woman was saying. I had only been a Capsuleer for five years. It was only a few months prior to my capsuleer training that I had escaped Amarr enslavement. She must be wrong! She must be mistaken!

She continued speaking, her words sending pure dread through my heart. “I lived in Hrober back then. You saved us from a pirate attack. I’ve loved you since that day, but was too young and too shy to ever say so. I never thought we would meet again. I never thought fate would give me the chance to tell you how thankful I am for the life you gave us all.”

I had worked out of Hrober for months, but that was only five years ago. Wait, before I called myself Roc Wieler? Didn’t she mention something about that? Who was this woman? What was going on?

“We need to talk.” I said, and she nodded her agreement.

It didn’t matter to me how long this took, I was going to get to the bottom of this. In a heartbeat, my entire life had changed again.