Demigodess with a Conscience

I stared at the report in front of me. It just didn’t sink in, yet I understood perfectly what it said. Somehow my brain just didn’t want to accept what it meant. It was a combat report from somewhere down in Providence, and it involved two names, two ships and two corporations. One of them just didn’t make sense, and didn’t at all please me.

Catrina Denaries, True Children

I prayed to whatever gods there were for this to be one sick joke as I roamed the GalNet for information. There we go…True Children, a Sansha loyalist corporation, founded by…My heart stopped for a while. Catrina Denaries! I scoured the pilot registers to find my sister’s official biography, and I froze again. This really was no joke, my sister had been slaved! I knew she hung around strange stations and joints, but this was just not happening, she couldn’t have been that careless. I knew she’d been hanging around Providence a lot ever since she left, and Providence was literally swarming with Sanshas, but I thought CVA was keeping the peace enough for pilots not to get captured and slaved right under their very noses.

“Miss, we’re ready to go now.” my XO said to me, tapping me on the shoulder as I was still staring blankly on the screen in front of me.

My eye caught an old Armageddon in my hangar, and I felt something burn on the inside. I needed to vent, and I needed it now.

“Fit it with smartbombs!” I ordered, and my XO just stared at me. “That one!” I said and pointed at the battleship.

“Smartbombs, miss?”

“Yes, the ones that go boom. Bring EMP ones, I need to vent.”

“Yes…yes of course, miss!” he said and stumbled off, clearly confused about the whole thing.

Once undocked, it didn’t take me long to find what I was looking for…a fleet of Mackinaws eating at an ice belt just a few jumps out of Amarr. As we landed right in their mids and I willed every ounce of my strength into the smartbombs, I heard my XO yell at me.

“Miss! CONCORD!”

But it was too late, my poetically righteous fury exploded from the ship in shockwaves of hypercharged EMP energy, pelting the Mackinaw’s shields and soon melting their paper thin armor plating. As my senses registered a fleet of CONCORD ships warp in, the realisation of what I had just done dawned on me. One of the Mackinaws exploded in a brilliant blue flash, just as the CONCORD ships activated the barrage of electronic warfare upon our ship.

“ABANDON SHIP!” I yelled frantically across the comms system. “Get to the escape pods, FAST!”

Goddamnit! What the hell was I thinking? There were at least 4000 people on this ship, and in my selfish fit of rage, I’d just condemned them all to death. My XO looked at me for a split second before he ran for the pods. I whispered a prayer that he’d make it. Question was if he’d bother signing up for another trip after this. I gritted my teeth as my shields dissipated and CONCORDs superior weapons started taking large chunks of my armor plating. The capacitor was completely empty, destroyed by their neutralizers, I was blind, deaf and completely at their mercy. Just as any criminal deserved to be.

I shut my eyes as the ship entered hull, and the stark pain shot through my body, causing me to yelp with pain, my tears mixing with the POD ectoplasm. Shortly after, the POD ejection system disconnected me from the massive battleship and propelled the POD out of the exploding wreckage. I felt the sensation of again being just a lump of flesh, a mere human and not a godess.

As I willed the pod to warp back to Amarr, I cried senselessly. Both for my sister’s fate…but also for the crime I just commited.

“This damn hangar is going to be the death of me!”, I blurted loudly when I, for the fifth time, collided with some toolbox, strewn over half the hangar floor. I glared at my XO, who was zipping around the hangar floor, trying to form some kind of order in the veritable chaos that was the Asmodai. It appeared the modifications I requested really wasn’t of the easiest kind. They’ve had to disassemble the whole capactitor array in order to remove the circuits, and the shield generators to install the makeshift resistance boosters.

“Can’t you clean it up already?”, I blurted as he ran past me.

“Doing the best we can, miss. She won’t be done yet in a couple of hours, an’ this place ain’t gonna look pretty while we work on this stuff, y’know?”

I was in a terrible mood this evening. My ship was in shambles, I had no good backups in this station, and I had loads of work to do. My agent was crawling all over me lately. Apparently the Guristas was on the move in this constellation, and she tried to enlist every capsuleer in sight. Unfortunately, I’d proven my worth more than once, and everytime there was something that needed doing, she came yelling for me. Sure, I could just say no, but it would kinda hurt my relations with the Theology Council. After all, they were the ones paying my bills.

On top of all that crap, I hadn’t heard anything from Catrina in weeks. Ever since she left the corporation to go out on her own, she’d been completely silent. Not even an EVEmail to let me know she was alright, and I was getting worried. The last I heard from her was some combat report from way down in Providence where she killed some poor rookie who didn’t warp out fast enough. I know Cat can be rather bloodthirsty from time to time, but this was going in the excess, even for her. Even back in her pure pirating days, she was honorable and didn’t pod people just for the fun of it. I needed to get in contact with her soon.

I hadn’t more than finished that train of thought before my toe exploded in a sensation of ouch.

“GODDAMNIT!” I yelled, and started looking for a nearby person to strangle. Techs fled left and right with little yelps as I marched towards the access hatch to the station. I needed a bath. A really long, warm bath and a couple of nerve sticks…

I was there again. Sitting in that strict and orthodox station in central Domain. The Amarrians were, in my Caldarian eyes, a strange people. They would rather adhere to a centuries old religion than evolving for the betterment of their society, and when problems arose, they humbly turn to their god for guidance. Their god, an abstract construct of a subconcious will to be part of something greater, to have a greater purpose in existance, rather than be a freak of probability.

Part of me understood them really well. The simple thought of being nothing but a set of molecules and the result of some statistical accident isn’t really reassuring. Having a god to turn to, a greater conscience and having a set of morals to adhere to could be calming and assuring. Knowing that there were an ultimate truth out there.

Another part of me just thought they were a bunch of mad old crackpots. How could they believe in a god that is supposedly good and all-knowing, in an age like this? One would not need to look further than their own empire to find blaring contradictions with corrupted Holders, slavery running rampant and what other monstrosities being commited in their “glorius empire”. Add their smug superiority complex on top of that, and I can’t really see a trace of any good god.

Well, enough rambling I guess. As a result of the latest calm in southern Domain, I had travelled back up to the central parts to work a bit for my agent. It wasn’t that ISK was scarce, I had a good billion sitting in my wallet, but ever since I struck gold a year back, anything less than five billion have felt like I was a downtrodden poor woman. Besides, I needed something to shoot, and soon too. Sanshas and Angels were no good substitute for a good pod on pod, but they could at least fill the need for pretty explosions, and my agent usually sent me out to blow shit up.

I was sitting in my office in the Theology Council station, far more posh and fitting to my stature than the shack I call “home” in the low sec regions in southern Domain. I was a proud owner of a freak monstrosity, the Nightmare. The ship design could only have been born in the mind of a really sick individual, but what performance! It’s four laser banks could produce more power than the full eight banks on an Apocalypse and with a really strong shield tank to boot. It was a joy to fly the ship, in spite of it’s AI. The AI was stale and strict, prone to bouts of strange trains of thought. Once you got control over it, it was rather easy to point it to where you wanted it, but before that…boy, what a wierd ride!

I was almost like the ship was designed to be sentient, but that the primary functions were ripped out when the ship was built for Empire service. I wouldn’t surprise me if it was…Sansha was one sick man. But he knew how to build ships, I’ll give him that.

Lately, I had been feeling rather displeased with it’s performance, and knowing it’s capabilities, I figured it was more down to my fitting of the thing than it’s actual construction. I grounded the Asmodai, as I’d named it after a mythological demon in some obscure off shoot of the Amarrian religion, and sat down with tech spreadsheets, module infos and whatnot, and tried to work out a way to push more juice out of the ship.

I realized that far too much of it’s potential was being eaten by the shields. A full six mid slots were used for the shields alone, and that felt superflous. I wanted to add in some Tracking Computers, to push the lasers further off with good accuracy. The multifrequency crystals were fantastic for projecting raw energy across the void, but their destabilizing effect on the beam meant you were limited in range due to issues with accuracy. With a proper tracking computer, I could probably compensate for the destabilization and get more accuracy and range out of the guns, without having to resort to more stable, but less efficient crystal types.

I also invested some ISK into a proper shield booster. The old Caldari Navy one had been along for quite a while. It had seen service on my old Raven, the Navy Issue Raven and recently on the Asmodai. I got my hands on a Guristas modified shield booster, nicknamed the “Pith B-Type” by other pilots. It wasn’t cheap, but at the same time not hideously expensive, but offered increased performance over the navy one. This allowed me to lighten up the shield tank somewhat, and free up a mid slot section for the tracking computer.

Satisfied with my fiddling, I also took the time to rip out some aftermarket modifications I once thought was a good idea. I’d added some control circuits to the capacitor to boosts it’s recharge rate, but since I now ran with a Cap Booster for those “oh shit” moments, I figured they weren’t really necessary. Instead, I went with another coordinator to stabilize the lasers, and two resistance boosters for the shields, allowing me more leniance in the tank.

With this done, I felt rather pleased with myself, and figured I’d take her out for a spin. But at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel thirsty for a good battle up against proper ships. Vanilla spaceships with crews just couldn’t match up to pod pilot vessels enough to entice me.

Time to make that call to my XO and have him get the crews working.

Sonic showers, now that’s something. I stood in front of the mirror, refreshed and clean for the first time in what felt like an eternity, and observed my new self. I wasn’t so sure about this whole “blonde bombshell” kinda thing, but it certainly was different.

This whole thought of changing my appearance had been growing on me for quite a while. Much more so since my sister started flaunting herself as “The Universe’s Gift to Men”, and my corpmates were quick to oblige to her flauntings. Now, it wasn’t really that I was jealous, because I knew Cat. She’s was as loose as a Minmatar armor plate and I certainly did not envy her lifestyle. It was her choice, and her’s alone.

Her flauntings did put something into stark perspective, however. I’d really not cared much for my appearance, and her current appearance made that painfully obvious. She was sexier, and she knew it. What’s worse, she made sure that I knew it too.

So I set out on this whole Gallentean “Reinvent yourself” campaign, and you have no idea what I came across. These Gallenteans truly were a brainless people. The sheer amount of “Bodily enhancements” available made me want to throw up. I’m not even going to go into detail here, because they were just…no. I spent a good time browsing the stores, becoming increasingly horrified at the mutiliations offered.

My new looks.

I finally settled for something subtle by Gallentean standards; a hair pigment change and a new tatoo. It helped a lot, actually. But I was still not used to my new self. It’s a lot more to take in than simply waking up in a new body, and getting used to it again. Feeling not quite “like yourself”. No, this was more…strange. In a new clone I could at least look in the mirror and reassure myself that I was still me. This wasn’t quite the same.

The woman that looked back at me from the mirror wasn’t me. Sure, she had my features, and my cybernetic implant but there’s where the similarities ended. I didn’t even feel like myself anymore, but I guessed I’d get used to it. Eventually.

In spite of all these wierd feelings of being someone else, I was still excited to hear what my corpmates would think of it. I had still not been on comms or shown up in the station bar for them to see, but I would be. Soon enough.

I could imagine it would cause quite a ruckus. Oh, and I wondered what Cat would say? Knowing her, she’d probably come up with some acid comment as usual, no matter what she thought. I guess I could tell by the amount of acidity in her comment. If it was downright horrible, she liked it, and if she did: mission accomplished.

The day didn’t exactly start very well, so I was back at the bar, sipping drinks like some common street corner whore. I really felt miserable about it all. To make matters worse, my dear sister sent me a cute farewell message where she told me she was leaving the corporation to “pick up another trade”. When we’re talking about Catrina, I have my suspicions, but I can’t say for sure. But I wouldn’t be surprised if she showed up on the “Most Wanted” list anytime soon. That girl had no restraint at all.

I had been sitting in this bar since I docked up, doing fuckall but getting shitfaced. Talk about feeling like a looser. In an effort to straighten up, I paid my tab and struggled to get over to my, still very rudimentary, quarters in the warehouse station. I think I slept for 4 hours or something, before finally getting up, slightly more sober and logging on to the usual channels. Local was a mess. Apparently some CVA puppets shooting a POS in system. Corpchat was completely dead, not a soul in sight. Great, I hated being on this shift. There’s never anyone on. Intel however, sparked my interest. There were reports of a small gatecamp just three jumps from where I was, in Yong on the Biphi gate. That’s practically next door!

I jumped up, straightened out my old SAK uniform, which I was still wearing for sentimental reasons, and ran off to the hangar. On route I sent a message to the chief of staff. It was time to bring out an old friend whom I hadn’t seen in a while.

The Obliterator, an Armageddon class battleship, outfitted with the latest in armor tech and with Megapulses for turrets. I had designed this baby from the ground up, basing it off the Amarr Navy Armageddons. This thing had armor so thick you’d need a fleet to break it, and could reach in the excess of 45 km with good accuracy.

By the time I got to the hangar, the crew, who were always on a “Get ready in 20 minutes” routine, were getting on board. I smiled, for once. This thing is a piece of art, no doubt about it. I got aboard and made it to the pilot’s den, where I met up with my highest-ranking officer on board.

“Ready to go, miss?” he asked and smiled with a slight wave towards the pod.

“As soon as you get your ass out of here, yes.” I replied with a smug smile and unzipped the front of my uniform in an effort to make a point. He locked slightly shocked and mumbled something as he scurried out the door. I laughed and sealed it behind him and slid into the pod.

As the interface loaded, I remembered why I do this. The sheer power of my body was overwhelming. This massive hulk of golden metal was mine to command. No, better yet, it was me. After I’d received undocking clearance, I willed the massive ship out of the docking hangar and immediately headed for the Mamet star gate.

The intel report was now rather aged, and I didn’t want anyone else to snag this opportunity, and neither did I want the pirates to leave. As I landed on the Yong gate in Biphi, my adrenaline started rush. This is it. They’re on the other side.

But for once…I didn’t feel torment over the thousands of people under my command. This time I felt the victorious winds on our backs, and as I willed the command to the stargate, I knew we were going to win.

As I got my vision back on the other side, my sensors immediately detected four vessels in our vicinity. Two Drake class Caldari battlecruisers, a Harbinger class Amarr battlecruiser and an Onyx class Heavy Interdictor, also Caldari. My sensors also registered a naked capsule in a warp disruption field. I only had a split second to look, but I’m sure the pod was a CVA registered one, before it exploded in a green splash.

I willed the ship to approach the Harbinger. It was to go down first, since it had the greatest damage potential, and probably the lightest tank. Drakes are known for their strong shields, and the Onyx was probably even worse. The pirates locked me up in no time, and soon barrages of missiles were slamming into my shields. I picked up a massive disruption field, greater than I’ve ever seen before. “Ah, so this is it.” I thought. “This is the so called ‘infinipoint’ of the HICs.” No amount of core stabilizing would’ve helped here. The core was totally dead.

The Harbinger was melting fast under the Megapulses, and soon decided to turn tail and run. He switched on a microwarp drive, and as his signature bloomed, I found it a lot easier to score lethal hits on his armor plating. Then my communications channel came alive with an incoming transmission. The Onyx pilot wished to talk.

“Eject.” was all he said. “If you want to live.”

I couldn’t believe it. My shields weren’t even down yet, and he thought I’d just roll over and die? Hell no!

“Yeah…right.” I smiled at the smug Achura that stared into my face.

“Then 150 million ISK and we let you go. You don’t want to die, do you?”

This guy was seriously not paying attention to his systems. The Harbinger was a smoking wreck, and left the battlescene with fire sprouting from everywhere. It was just the Drakes and mister Overconfident in his Onyx left.

“Bring it on.” I said. “Gimme your best.”

“So be it.”

I focused fire on the Drake that was closest, urging my crew to work at their utmost capacity. I overloaded my stasis webifieing field to reach out to 11 km where he was sitting, but I didn’t need to do that for long. He drifted inside 10 km, and was slowly approaching me. I had him right where I wanted him.

The Armageddon had strong shields, but without any hardening or reinforcements, they are bound to buckle under prolonged assault, and that was what was going on now. The shields failed with a blaring klaxon, which I rapidly disabled. Now, time to see what those Trimark modifications are good for.

It turned out they worked just fine. The onslaught nearly came to a standstill and the armor plating deflected most of their damage, but still splinters of it were coming off, so I wouldn’t last forever. The Drake, however, wouldn’t either. In a brilliant blue flash, it went up in flames, leaving the pilot in his pod to quickly run from the battlefield.

Mr Overconfident looked slightly sweaty and stared at me in annoyance and sneered at me.

“Well, it’s just a Drake for your Armageddon.”

I chose not to reply as I switched my warp disruptor, webifier, drones and megapulses over to the other Drake. His shields were as strong as the other one, and as I approached 40% armor strength on my ship, I though that it would be prudent to speed this up. I willed a few extra gigajoules of energy into the mega pulse turrets and they flared up with power as volley after volley of supercharged laser energy melted the Drake’s shields.

Unfortunately, my lasers were building up quite a lot of excess heat, and I stopped pushing them so hard just in time. The entire rack was about to melt on me, and that would’ve been an epic failure and quite a stump end to this battle.

As the second Drake exploded and it’s pilot kindly toddling off, Mr Overconfident didn’t say anything, so I closed comms. I was grinning so hard and could barely contain myself, and I thought I’d spare him that. His Onyx was next in line, and as all my systems targeted him, a Harbinger joined the fray, but this time on my side. I heard focused medium pulse lasers from above me, and true enough, there she was.

Mr Overconfident now made a fatal mistake. During the whole fight, he’d been less than 1000 meters from my hull, which would’ve made it very hard for me to hit him, should I’ve shot him. But now instead, he opted to drop the warp field off my ship and place it on the Harbinger instead. He also, foolishly, started chasing the Harbinger, leaving him dead center in my sights.

As more and more of friendlies came through the gate, the Onyx’ shields were stressed by the combined fire from the Harbinger and me. About then a Raven decloaked next to me and fired a volley of torpedoes on the Onyx, whose shields just buckled. There was no armor damage, neither any structure damage. The Onyx simply evaporated as the volley of torpedoes slammed it’s unprotected hull.

I was flying high on adrenaline and almost laughing maniacally to myself as I scooped up whatever was left after the explosion. One of the pilots from the friendly fleet commended me for a well fought fight.

As I turned home and the ship entered the hangar, I couldn’t help but think that it’s a good thing you never give up hope.

Video feed of the event.

GalNet feed.

I sat around, half asleep, in the so called “bar” in the Imperial Armaments Warehouse in Hoshoun, Jakemih Constellation. Amarrians never were very good at this whole drinking business. Always so strict, prim and proper. At least on the surface.

Down in my hangar, my latest acquisition was being readied for test flight. It was an aged, but functional Ferox. I had been flying Amarr ships for as long as I could remember, but I had been getting an urge for shield tankers lately, and the Ferox was a suitable “underdog” ship. It was quite infamous for it’s rather mediocre performance in combat. But I intended to show that it wasn’t as useless as people claimed.

In spite of the time being sometime midday, local time, I was slightly dreary and sleepy. Went to bed way too late last night. Damn this sleeping business…and the dreams. I hated the dreams. With a passion.

Great, there we go again. Back to brooding. Damnit. I downed the last of my drink, got up and headed for the door. I had to get out in space, where I didn’t have to care about all this. Where this carbon based piece of meat was replaced by a massive machine of destruction.

I went down to the hangar where the hangar crews were already busy prepping the Warthog for flight. Not a particularly  impressive name, I agree, but it was somehow fitting. I walked alongside the 450 meter massive battlecruiser and again marveled over Caldari craftsmanship. You can say what you want about us Caldari…but we do know how to build ships. The shield system on the Ferox was only second to the Drake, another Caldari design.

My pod was already set deep inside the lumbering vessel, so I boarded it and made my way thru it’s inner regions towards the command center. Along the way I met them again. People. Faces. Faces that would again haunt my sleep.

I gritted my teeth and stopped at a water dispenser in the crew quarters. I bit down hard on the nerve stick capsule, and the burning, molasses-like liquid oozed over my tounge again. I downed a cup of water and then another one, to get rid of the intense feeling of heat on my tongue. As I stomped thru the ship with crew members jumping aside when they saw my rather displeased complexion, the nerve sticks kicked in and I started to feel a lot better about myself. I wanted to go out there and blow something up. Preferrably with an epic fight preceding the boom.

The command centre was little more than a cavern, designed only to house the pod. In old ages, these were reconstructed bridges, with most of the consoles still left. This ship, however, was specifically pod designed, and didn’t have a real command centre. Just this little dungeon I was supposed to sit in, all alone.

The crew was finished, as was the hangar maintenance guys, so I closed and sealed the door to the pilot pit, undressed and got into the pod. The interface arm snapped on and suddenly the sensation of gravity, heat, cold, perception and everything changed again. My body disappeared and was replaced by the hull of the ship. My sight was replaced by the camera drones, my hearing was my directional scan sensor.

I asked for undocking clearance, and it was granted a few seconds later. The docking clamps released the ship and the levelling thrusters were engaged to keep the ship from drifting towards either the moon, or the station, due to gravity. The Warthog began to move, slowly towards the undocking perimeter and once out in free space, the sense of claustrophobia started to let go of me.

The undocking point was empty, which wasn’t really unusual here. Not many hung around low security space, and even fewer, except for the occasional pirate, hung around one particular place for more than necessary.

I roamed around Mamet, Misaba, Ziriert but couldn’t find any disturbance, so I went up the “pirate pipe” as it was called. I soon encountered the infamous MUCTEP POMA, as he liked to call himself. A notorious pirate in these parts. Apparently, he was piloting a Cerberus, somewhere in the vicinity of the Kheram gate.

I warped around, used my senses to try to locate him, but he apparently got spooked and left the system. I figured he went to Kheram and willed my ship towards the gate and jumped. Finding myself billions of kilometers from my previous position, the Cerberus appeared once again on my directional scanner, but this time near a station. Soon it disappeared and MUCTEPs local beacon deactivated. Great, he docked up and disconnected from the pod interface. Well, guess his flying session is over then.

I jumped into Mista, then Murzi, Hama and found myself in Bagodan. What I was doing up here in high security space, I’m not really sure of. As I flew around, hunting poor remnants of the Sansha nation, I realized that all I was doing was looking for a fight. With anything. Was I going to have to resort to useless can flipping to get my fix?

Then a message flared on the local intel channel. A pirate in Mamet! Just as I read that, I landed in a belt, and a red flag dominated my overview. What the hell? A red Hulk, here? As I approached to investigate, the Hulk stopped it’s mining lasers and warped off. Apparently spooked by my curiousness. I wasn’t going to give up that easily. I jettisoned a can of my own and transferred his ore to my can. This would flag me as a criminal, and perhaps he’d return in something worth fighting.

That’s about when I realized that my cargohold was nearly empty. I had no ammunition left! Quickly I warped off to a nearby station, requested docking procedures and hastily procured some antimatter charges and went out again as soon as it was loaded securely in the ammo rails. I couldn’t believe I made such a mistake. I must’ve been more tired than I thought.

Back at the can I found that he had yet to take the bait. Oh well, I could wait. I warped to the Hama gate and left system. If he believed I was gone, then maybe he’d take it. He was a pirate filth after all, greed was his game.

I waited a couple of minutes on the Hama side, before going back thru into Bagodan. Much to my dismay, the local beacon told me he was not flagged for crimes, which meant that my only enjoyment today would be to blow his ores to whatever hell he believed in. So that’s what I did, and then I left the system for home.

What a useless start of the day.

So I was in my Nightmare in Penirgman, Parud Constellation, Domain and my agent had me go investigate a series of deadspace pockets in system. Rumor had it that the Arch Angels had set up a base in the area, and that they were preparing a major staging in Penirgman. So I was sent in…to dispatch of the angels.

While I was busy dispatching (they have really crappy ships compared to the Sanshas, I might add), a Catalyst warps in and starts looting and salvaging the angel wreckages left behind. I cleaned up the pocket from any remaining angels and then moved off about 20 kilometers off the Catalyst and melt him.

He warped his pod out, and I expected him to return, so I warped back to my home station in the neighboring system.

I suspected that he’d be waiting for me in Penirgman, so I dusted off one of my old acquisitions: The Sansha’s Phantasm. A wierd ship, to be sure, but what performance! Fast, agile, sturdy and capable of raining death upon an unsuspecting foe. I jumped back in just to check, and yup, he was sitting on the gate in a Dominix. Right, a cruiser up against one of the most feared battleships in the universe, I don’t think so. I slammed my microwarp drive and quickly increased the distance between him and me. He apparently understands that he has no chance to catch me, and warped off. This was my cue, and I warped back to the gate, traveled back to my station and had my hangar crew refit my Nightmare for close range brawling. Mega Pulse lasers instead of Tachyons, energy neutralizer, warp scrambler. I was going to be ready for this.

Just about finished with the refit, I dock my pod into the interface and request undocking permission, which was swiftly granted. Back in Penirgman there was no sign of the thief, but I expected him to be back soon. Funnily enough, as I entered the third deadspace pocket, there he was. I quickly sent a comms message to the only corporation member online, King Klown, and asked his position. “5 jumps out and in a Falcon.” he reported. My heart skipped a beat.

The laws of engagement in high security space forbade him to fire upon me now, but I was free to fire upon him, and with a Falcon on my side, what could go wrong? I locked him up and rained hell upon him with my megapulses.

His shields crumbled after the second volley, the generators overloaded by the sheer power of the lasers. His response was fast, and while not too unexpected, horrible. My insides froze over as I watched my capacitor get obliterated. “Where the fuck did my capacitor go?” was all I could think. Then I saw the crackling torrents of neutralizing energy emanating from his ship. A neut Domi…great, guess Klown will have to pick up the pieces of my ship.

Not ready to give up just yet, I committed myself entirely to the fight. Both our warp engines were disrupted beyond usage, and we were close together, his drones fired volley upon volley on my shields, while my lasers slowly ate through his massive armor plating.

I was having serious issues keeping my capacitor up, in spite of the heavy capacitor booster I had fitted to run the very demanding shield booster system that was on my ship. Gigajoule after gigajoule was streamed into the shield generators, rejuvenating them as the onslaught carried on. Suddenly I heard Auras wonderful voice tell me that the capacitor was empty, and that I had no energy to fire my lasers. Soon the shield hardening failed, and even my Damage Control, which required only a token amount of energy, failed.

As his drones was the greatest threat, I locked them up and sent my drones after his, while I kept my lasers on his ship. Every cycle of the cap booster gave me enough juice to squeeze more shield boost cycles and volleys out of it, and I was hanging by a thread now. I was really starting to think this was a bad idea when my warp disruptor and webifier sputtered and turned off. Another cycle of the cap booster and I was up and running again, the Dominix still not taking structural damage, and I was wildly flinging between 20% to 40% shields, boosting them every time I had cap to spare.

However, just as Klown uncloaked the Falcon right next to us, the Dominix shuddered and explodes in a brilliant flash. Apparently, he didn’t fit an armor repairer on his ship, and my onslaught eventually punched through his armor plating and breached his hull.

With Klown on the scene, I cleared up the last of the angel rats and the final wave of angels angrily entered the scene. Woop, would you look at that, a Hyperion on scan. The ID signature is unknown at this distance, but I instinctively knew it was the same guy. He was actually coming back? Mkay…finished off the Spider Drones that was sent on me by the angel commander (who was spouting profanities at me over the local channel) but I couldn’t kill him because he was way out of my scorch range (about 71 km away). Suddenly, the Hyperion came screaming out of warp.

I told Klown to stay cloaked and I opened up on the Hyperion at 35 km away. His shields melted like butter and was down before my lasers had cycled a third time. Once the lasers started hitting his armor plating, the damage wasn’t significantly lowered, but he was reparing at an impressive rate, and I assumed he’d learned his lesson and fitted a repairer this time around. He came burning towards me at high speed, probably with an afterburner on. Once in range, my warp core went offline and my sublight engines went to a crawl as his scram and web hit me. Heavy fire from electron blasters slammed into my shields, but I was holding. Four Mk II Ogres came roaring at me, and they made quite an impact on my shields together with the blasters.

In standard order, I sent my drones after his, and they got rapidly chewed up by my faster, smaller and nimbler Hammerheads. My enemy realized that his drones was rapidly getting lost, and retracted them. I told Klown to decloak and apply his magic, which he did. The Hyperion’s electronics, sensors and backups failed as Klown showered the gallentean battleship with wave after wave of interference from his ECM projectors.

Our enemy managed to compensate for the interference and managed to lock Klowns fragile recon ship and sent his drones for Klown, as he was well outside blaster range. The four Ogres almost obliterated Klowns shields in a few seconds, and I desperately locked them up and fired with my scorch amplified lasers. Four volleys later, the drones were space dust, and Klown was safe. The Hyperion soon exploded under the burns of my heavy neut and megapulses.

Just another day missioning.

Look at this place! It’s all just a massive mess of old datapads, leftover foodstuffs and only the gods know what.

It’s been a while since I came here, my old offices in the Caldari backwater system of Isseras, Sela Constellation in Lonetrek. We had a small office set up in the Perkone Factory station at VII – Moon 6 way back. Something we rented with the bare scrapes of our wallets.

What times we had back then! We were flying cheap frigate, because quite frankly, we couldn’t afford anything else. We spent most of our days dodging Guristas, that were looking for targets, in the belts around Isseras trying to make a living mining. Sure, it was tough times, but it felt like we were really working for something, you know? Making a living, having a goal and all that.
As I looked around the old office, hazy memories trickled through my mind. I found myself missing my old adventurous friends: Dasone, Malachim Caldach, Lexx Looter and the others whose names I can barely remember anymore. Still, it has only been a little more than two years since then. How times change…

I popped another booster in, and cringed as the liquid in the capsule burned my tongue. I hastily downed a cup of water to get rid of the sensation.

I was so innocent back there, with hopes for the future… and look at me now.

With a long sigh I took another look at the market to oversee the final signings. Another Armageddon was transferred to my ownership. I always loved Amarr ships for their sturdiness, and the sheer power of lasers under my command is a thrill that is hard to top.

I shivered as the effects of the nerve sticks slowly set in. With a deep breath, I could feel the stress running off me like water. I eyed the crew roster of the Armageddon over with an increasingly callous look. There were names there I probably should have cared about, yet the thousands of names glazed my eyes over and I found it didn’t really bother me anymore.

Hell, I worry too much…

So, after having spent a lot of time browsing thru different EVE blogs, I was inspired to start up my own piece of the intarwebs.

This blog will be primarily an IC (In Character RolePlay) blog from Ancy’s perspective. I do this both for the enjoyment of writing, but also in order to expand on Ancy as a person. I’ve realised over the years I’ve been playing that I’ve been yearning for some character development, and one of the attempts was to bring Ancy’s sister into it all, but it all turned out to be one big mistake. It didn’t really develop Ancy as much as Catrina.

I hope you will enjoy this, and I will try to keep it updated as often as I can. I’m aiming for weekly updates to begin with.