DEADSPACE
HEIMATAR REGION

“Today you will die, Roc Wieler, and it will be a great victory for the Empire. With the aid of our Caldari brethern, your name will be removed from the history books by my hand.”

My shields were depleted. My armour plates buckling, the repair systems unable to maintain themselves against the assault against me.

Over twenty Amarr and Caldari battleships continued their heavy fire against the Ripsack, my Rifter class frigate, as dozens of enemy frigates engaged me at point blank. All the while, three slave transports slowly pulled away from the battle, their cargo holds filled with my Matari kin.

“I will fight with my last breath, slaver, until the day when your vile and distorted views are no longer tolerated within any region of space. My voice is but one of many. And I shall be heard long after your corpse…” a salvo of missile fire slammed against my ship, tearing open the entire port forward strut. My hull was breached. The Rifter began to spin out of control from the impact.

I was at the end.

4 HOURS EARLIER

“Of course I’ll take your mission, agent.” I said. I had been pulled from a good sleep by the beeping of my NeoCom, something I detested. When I was off duty, I expected that to be respected unless hell itself was at the station’s door. As it turned out, the analogy wasn’t far off.

The Amarr were up to their old tricks, and were taking slaves here in Heimatar Region, right within Minmatar controlled space. I had to act fast.

I scrambled my flight team to ready my Rifter, the Ripsack, as I had pledged to only fly Rifter class ships that year, YC 113. As I raced towards my hangar, I was reminded of a recent comment made by my good friend Niko. “You know I respect you, Roc, but you’re a damned fool to be flying Rifters all year.”

He was probably right.

3 HOURS EARLIER

The remaining Caldari frigates scattered, fleeing into the safety of warp as I downed another of their squad. I knew the Amarr considered slavery an every day, acceptable occurrence. It bothered me profoundly that the State would be involved in such abhorrent practices. I contacted my agent right away to let him know of my findings; to receive my orders.

2 HOURS EARLIER

Cruisers and frigates fell before my rage. I was incensed from my very soul at the collaboration between the Amarr Empire and the Caldari State. They had been caught red-handed trading slaves in Minmatar space, yet still Concord did nothing. Our own government did nothing. Too much political fallout Shakor had said when pushed by the Senior Director of Ushra’Khan at my behest. In my anger I wondered when he had become such a neutered bull.

1 HOUR EARLIER

Still I couldn’t find the slave transports, and began to fear I would be too late. I knew firsthand the horrors that would be inflicted to these Matari at the hands of the Amarr, the dependency the Vitoc dependency they would be forced to endure, all in the name of God.

It sickened me. I tried to talk sense into the last damaged frigate commander of the Amarr/Caldari squad I had decimated, but their captain would not yield, sealing the fate of his crew. I erased them from space.

Scanning the wreckage, I was unable to find any clues regarding the location of the transports. Time was running out. My NeoCom beeped. It was my agent.

“Get yourself together, Wieler.” The agent said. “Our scouts have pinned the exact location of the slavers here in Rens. They’re moving slowly, covering those transports, and the window of opportunity is small. Do what is required to free those slaves, pilot.”

I warped through the vastness of space towards the coordinates provided. Two small squads of Caldari awaited me. I made short work of them, turning my attention to the large battleship fleet over 100 kilometers away.

It was unlikely that I would survive the encounter, but if I could blitz the transports, retrieve the escape pods, I might just get lucky and succeed at my mission. I had come so far, and was so very close. The freedom of the Matari depended on me.

NOW

“I will fight with my last breath, slaver, until the day when your vile and distorted views are no longer tolerated within any region of space. My voice is but one of many. And I shall be heard long after your corpse…” a salvo of missile fire slammed against my ship, tearing open the entire port forward strut. My hull was breached. The Rifter began to spin out of control from the impact.

I was at the end.

My overview came alive, as multiple contacts entered the area. Battlecruisers, battleships, heavy assault cruisers and assault frigates reverted to real-space before my eyes behind the enemy fleet.

I smiled.

“You just couldn’t wait, you crazy bastard.” the newest member of Masuat’aa Matari said to me over fleet comms.

“Good to see you too, Niko.” I replied. “Cutting it a little close aren’t we?”

“Well, wouldn’t want them to get suspicious and all. I mean who attacks a battleship fleet in a Rifter anyway?”

My ship shook as the circling frigates continued to pepper me with weapons fire. I overheated my repair systems, enough to reinforce what little armour plating I had left, and engaged the enemy.

I watched as the battleship fleet split into two, outflanked by my allies, reeling to respond strategically. Another frigate exploded before me, but there were too many, and my damage was too much to recover from.

I sped headlong towards an interceptor, overheating my autocannons. Neither of us veered from our course, each hoping to obliterate the other before it was too late.

Neither of us succeeded, our ships colliding at over one kilometer per second. Both ships were vaporized instantly.

“Roc! No!” Niko screamed over fleet comms.

“I’m alright, Niko; focus on that fleet. Take out the engines on those transports!” I replied from my pod, already aligning to the Brutor Tribe Treasury station in-system.

I wouldn’t be there to join in the glory of victory. I wouldn’t be there as we freed those Matari, teaching the Amarr and Caldari that we would never accept slavery within the galaxy, that we would never rest while such despicable disregard for human life was endured, that we would never back down, no matter what the odds.

We were Matari, and our spirit would never be crushed.

SEVERAL MINUTES LATER

“The flagship is nearly done, Roc. I’ve got you a direct channel with her captain.” Niko said.

“Thanks Niko, but broadcast this on every open channel: fleet, enemy, local, civilian, all of it.”

“Will do, boss.” Niko replied.

“‘As I was saying, Commodore.’ I began. ‘Your corpse will be nailed to the front of my ship for all to see in the coming weeks, but only after I have let some of my less than respectful brothers defile it … repeatedly. And when the stink of your rotting flesh becomes too much for my nostrils to bear, I will jettison your deteriorating sack of meat into the nearest wormhole I can find, that you may never know peace in the afterlife. And do you know the best part of all this? Do you, Commodore? Your god won’t do a damned thing to help you. Kinda makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Kinda makes you wonder if you were on the losing team from the very start, doesn’t it? Guess what? You were.'”

The stats helper monkeys at WordPress.com mulled over how this blog did in 2010, and here’s a high level summary of its overall blog health:

The Blog-Health-o-Meter™ reads Wow.

Crunchy numbers

The Louvre Museum has 8.5 million visitors per year. This blog was viewed about 87,000 times in 2010. If it were an exhibit at The Louvre Museum, it would take 4 days for that many people to see it.

In 2010, there were 303 new posts, growing the total archive of this blog to 854 posts. There were 119 pictures uploaded, taking up a total of 16mb. That’s about 2 pictures per week.

The busiest day of the year was May 7th with 24,432 views. The most popular post that day was Tyrannis: The Contest.

Where did they come from?

The top referring sites in 2010 were eveonline.com, crazykinux.com, facebook.com, lifeinlowsec.blogspot.com, and ninveah.com.

Some visitors came searching, mostly for roc wieler, roc’s ramblings, republic fleet firetail, rocs ramblings, and pizza cones.

Attractions in 2010

These are the posts and pages that got the most views in 2010.

Tyrannis: The Contest May 2010
51 comments

Firetail Revisited February 2010
13 comments

Tyrannis: The Tyranny of the Undead Space People May 2010
27 comments

Republic Fleet Firetail June 2009
10 comments

Tyrannis: Worlds Collide May 2010
47 comments

Looking back, I’m still amazed at the influence I had over any other capsuleer. I have never envisioned myself a celebrity, or someone of importance. My existence has always been one of necessity when it comes to others, and excess when it comes to myself.

I have always done what is needed. I always will.

Still, it was the Year of the Rifter, that year I challenged all the pod pilots of New Eden to commit to flying nothing but a Rifter for an entire year. Some balked, saying it would be impossible for them to go on fleet ops; others cried they would die too easily in a Rifter, but many took up the call. Thousands of them in fact.

And it was a good year for the galaxy.

Pilots re-learned the joy of flying frigates; of relying on your wits instead of your blob. They learned the benefits of versatile fittings, and a small, agile ship that could get you out of many sticky situations.

The Year of the Rifter proved to be a good idea in the end. Had I only known then what I know now.

DAY 1
9:02 AM

I’ve been flying the Ripsack for a while now, but this marks my first official entry in the Year of the Rifter. I’ve been scanning for pirate activity for the last ninety minutes; no luck. I wandered over to Amamake briefly, knowing there’s always a fight going on there, but I couldn’t lure any strays away from their packs. Disappointing.

I’m docking up for now. Will try again later.

Roc

You might not know this about me, but I like to have as much fun as the next Brutor. To that end, I’ve set up a meme generator for all of you to enjoy.

LINK

Here’s some that the #tweetfleet on Twitter have already created. Feel free to link yours in the comments below.

By: Commander Jack Carrigan

Twas the night before Christmas,
And all through the Cluster;
A mass Naval Force
Was beginning to muster.
The launchers, cannons and blasters,
Were loaded with care
In hopes that the Sansha soon would be there.

The pilots were nestled all snug in their pods.
They checked, and rechecked all of their mods.

The silence was broken by a flurry of blasters,
As the merry band of pilots met their new “Master”.
When out from the Comms arose such a clatter,
Wing Commanders swearing and directing the battle.

In from nullsec in a brilliant white light,
Three carriers hot dropped to join in the fight.
The flash of laser batteries lit up the space,
And let all see the look on the Sansha Nation’s face.

When out from nowhere our Recons did spot,
Six Nightmares warped in and downed a dreadnought.
The capsule left floating ended up scrammed;
I tried to engage but my tracking was jammed.

Out of control the violence did spin,
This battle was lost, with no way to win.
Now Rifter! Now Thrasher! Now Kestrel and Merlin!
On Thorax! On Stabber! On Moa and Omen!
To the side of the moon! To the dark of the space!
Now warp away! Warp away! Regroup and Wait!

As bright, shooting stars, that Drake let missiles fly,
When they hit their targets, the Sansha did die.
To the dark side of the moon we did scurry and wait,
To stage a surprise and seal all their fates.

And then in the darkness, just lit by my HUD
An echo rang out, sounding like many thuds.
As I spun on my keel and started to reach,
I realized our rally point had just been breached.

The pilots were all lined up in file and rank,
A gleam came off the ships, the warm glow of their tanks.
The True Slaves warped in, to begin their attack,
Flaming spires of death were seen forward and back.

Their ships did not twinkle, their ships were not merry,
Things in this system had just gotten hairy.
The drones from theirs ships lashed out like a swarm,
Torpedoes were fired not long after armed.

The large plumes from smart bombs circled like wreathes,
And the rocking from arties made most grit their teeth.
They had hellish guns and they just kept on coming,
The bombers decloaked and began their bomb running.

Locked into combat with mindless True Slaves,
Had to thank every comrade for many close saves.

A light in the sky, right over my head,
A cyno was popped, and in jumped a dread.
A broadside barrage from its massive guns,
Turned the tide of the ambush, the battle was won!
And with each controlled squeeze of the trigger,
The Sansha fell back, the body count bigger.

They turned on their keels, and started to run,
That darkened force that blacked out the sun.
I heard our Commander exclaim, and then let out a sigh,
Merry Christmas, Sansha Nation, you’re all going to die!

“I accept your price, agent. I will deal with this situation immediately.”

My Rifter class frigate, the Ripsack, was still warm from just having docked moments earlier; the agent hadn’t taken any time in contacting me. I’m sure I just happened to be the next reputable capsuleer in line, but still, sometimes it felt good to think that agents offered me the more lucrative jobs based on my reputation and employment history.

Within moments I had cleared the station, my small and nimble ship aligning quickly for the Abudban system. I was in pursuit of hijacked fuel for the station; such a simple commodity, but so essential to the well being of all the lives onboard.

Aura flagged an item on my HUD; one of her programmed alerts was to notify me when my name was mentioned in local comm chatter. I took a quick look.

“Well there’s a blast from the past, Colonel Wieler…”  Niko Succorso said.

I hadn’t seen Niko in years. He had been the PVP Director for Freeform Industries, back when I flew under their employment before the war. Niko was a fierce, but fair man, and I had always held him in high regard.

Last I had heard, he had dropped off the grid completely to enjoy civilian life. It was good to see that rumour was unsubstantiated.

“What do you mean blast from the past?” I started in a private comm, “I haven’t gone anywhere. Good to see you again, old friend.”

I still had a few minutes before I would pass through the Abudban gate in Rens, then warp to the last known location of the kidnappers. I could squeeze a quick conversation in with an old corpmate.

“Was getting the itch planetside.” Niko began. “Wanted to see if I could still feel exhilaration up here in the stars.”

“There really is nothing quite like it.” I offered, just happy to see a retired pilot back in action.

We talked about his “retirement”, him settling down, working a regular job, etc, etc. We talked about old corp members, and how I hadn’t really run into anyone since those days. We spoke on Ushra’Khan, and the enfolding drama that led to Damu’Khonde, then Ushra’Khan once again, as well as how Masua’at Matari was treating me.

“Surprised to see you retired from the military yourself, Roc. I enjoyed watching you on the vids. Always made me shake my head. Your ego really knows no bounds.” He chuckled.

I often wondered why some found me egotistical. I had never claimed to be better than anyone else. I had never ridden on the coat tails of someone else’s success to get where I was. Everything I had done, everything I said was of personal confidence and accomplishment.

Then it dawned on me. It was meant as an affectionate joke.

“Yeah, well, I ran out of women in the militia to enjoy so it was time for me to leave.”

“Speaking of women, Rha’de says hi.”

Rha’de. I hadn’t heard that name in a long while. She was Niko’s girl, a fellow corpmate, but man did I ever have a thing for her at one point. Granted, I seem to feel that way about every attractive woman I meet, but really there’s nothing wrong with that. I love women, what could be said?

“You’re still taking good care of my girl I hope?” I asked.

“Aye. Even engaged her.” Niko replied.

“Well I’ll be. None of us ever saw that coming.” I said sarcastically, laughter trailing my words. It had been common corp knowledge that Niko and Rha’de would be spoken of in the eternal songs of the bards. Theirs was an immortal love story, literally, and if it wasn’t so sickeningly romantic, I would retell that story here.

“Congrats, Niko. You both truly deserve that happiness.”

By now, our conversation had gone well beyond my travel time. I had actually tracked down, engaged and destroyed the Guristas kidnappers, as well as brought the victims onboard the Ripsack, and was already returning to the agent in Rens.

Traumatic as it was, I had no choice but to keep the victims in my cargo hold; there just wasn’t enough room anywhere else.

It had been a good conversation with Niko, but I had to figure out a polite way of cutting it short. Business was business after all.

Niko spoke. “Listen, Rha’de’s comming me now. Needs me to pop over insystem. I’d love to chitchat, but she wants the same, and frankly Roc, she has a nicer rack than you.”

“I remember.” I replied quickly. We both laughed and said our goodbyes.

As I docked in Rens, I watched as the victims exited my cargohold and were quickly reunited with their waiting loved ones. A quick glance at my account confirmed the agent was good on his end of our arrangement.

I hoped to run into Niko again.

AMAMAKE SYSTEM
HEIMATAR REGION

There are a great many things in this universe that boggle my mind’s logic. For example, I found it maddening that Concord took such a complete neutral stance on the war between the accursed Amarr and my noble brethern. It was infuriating that I could be engaged in a battle outside of a Minmatar station in a Minmatar controlled system, only to pass by those same despicable Amarr pilots along the corridors of the station’s “capsuleer only” levels hours later.

Sometimes I felt the best way to educate was by example.

Case in point.

I was sitting in a pub enjoying a pint, minding my own business during some downtime, when in walked a group of loud, obnoxious Amarr pilots. I don’t recall the name of the pub anymore, nor the names of any of the Amarr pilots, though at the time I recognized one or two from the kill logs secured in my file backup.

I ignored the situation as best I could, remembering Concord’s zero tolerance policy for bringing any type of racial, sexual, or historical violence into the neutrality of the stations they oversaw, including the one I was in.

So be it.

I enjoyed some wings, experimenting with various sauce combinations, while downing a few refreshing ales to pass the time away.

The rowdy group of Amarr pod pilots became increasingly loud, and I noticed I wasn’t the only pub patron casting a harsh glance their way.

By the time I had finished my meal and lit a cigar, my patience was at an end, which said a lot, as we all know I am a very patient man.

I walked over to the group, grabbed a chair and sat down.

I removed the cigar from my mouth and blew a puff of smoke at the nearest Amarr. All conversation stopped around us as the group looked menacingly towards me, one of them waving the smoke away from his face.

“I couldn’t help but wonder.” I began aloud. “Do you lot fight for freedom or for honour?”

One of the group ignored me, turning back to his colleague. Two others whispered in hushed tones. Another took the bait.

“Not that our business is any of yours, brutor.” he said with great disdain in his girly voice. “But we fight for the honour of the Empire.”

His colleagues all smiled, nodding their heads in agreement. It was a great and witty victory for them.

I drew in another sweet breath of the cigar’s aromatic smoke, leaning back in my chair, taking my time to reply.

“I fight for the freedom of the Matari, of course.” I began casually. Suddenly, I sat bolt upright, the legs of my chair slamming against the floor, causing all of the Amarr pilots (and a few innocent patrons), to start in shock.

“I guess it just goes to show we all fight for what we don’t have.” I snarled, upending the table.

I knew Concord’s finest would be along momentarily, but as I mentioned, some lessons are best served with a clear example.

I didn’t throw the first punch. I didn’t throw the last punch.

I woke up in a secured medbay, and laughed. My ribs cried out in protest, and the left side of my swollen face hurt something fierce.

I laughed again. It was a great joke.