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In it

September 1, 2010 in Uncategorized by Mike Azariah

Mike sat in Jita and opened the local channels, letting the sound wash over him like the thrum of frogs from back on the bayou. He chuckled as the old scams still showed they had a life of their own. ‘I will send back double” and “Navy Raven” classics filled the airwaves. Then there were the “Two plexes for 600 million” where he could easily see that there was only one being offered.

“Big universe, lots o fools” he said, more to himself than anyone else and lifted from 4-4 to find quieter pastures.

He, in his Wolf, wandered towards Ghesis to check on some details but he took the time to stop at local sights and drop in on any known Ded spaces reported. It didn’t make much isk but he disliked Sansha gaining any sort of foothold in his area. As he traveled he kept an ear on The Summit to see if there had been any change in the Sansha invasions. It had been so quiet for so long he could not tell if there was still a reason to monitor the channel. Every time he started to think maybe it was time to move on he would look at the tally of people lost to the ‘upliftings’ of the Sansha raids and he would continue to monitor, continue to watch.

He opened a few more channels and listened to the chatter as he slow-boated along. A trend made him frown and he listened a bit closer. Not many folks were just ‘talking’. It seemed like it was all sales and business or min/max discussions of how to squeeze every last bit out of a ship for your isk. Not that this was a bad thing . . . just it was so damn impersonal. Mike sighed and skimmed through some shots he had taken recently and then consulted “Eve Travel” He wanted to go places and see some new sights. The race had shaken something loose and now Mike felt the urge to explore . . .

His comm chimed and the hologram of a redhead with a mischievous smile appeared. “Hey handsome”

Laughing he replied “Heyas Cutie . . . I was thinking of doing a wander, see the something new.”

“I thought you’d already seen everything.” She played with a button on her blouse.

“Wicked thing. No I meant in space. I have never been to New Eden to see the Gate. I have been exploring some old ruins up in hisec but I always wanted to see where it all started. Want to go on a trip with me?”

The smile went from mischief to wicked in a smooth transition. “What is in it for me?”

******************************************

Lessons

Sometimes the trip is the thing, other times it is the destination. But what is in it is a change of pace, maybe a bit of risk. But take a vacation in the game . . . travel, see some of those sights or look back and realize WHY Eve wins graphics awards and has for years. Remember the OOOOH the first time you hit space (followed by ‘how can I fly this in 1st person’)

Try to regain the ‘holy shit look at that’ that you once had for the game.

It is MORE than spreadsheets in space. MORE than shooting red crosses in the distance or clicking till carpal tunnel sets in. Or it should be.

Yes, I RP some, that makes this game live for me.

One of my readers (one of the 16 who I think read this regularly) asked where the rp channels are. Where are the people playing the game on a different level than the masses?

So . . .Tell me (and him). Where is the RP channels, the pubs that serve rum, the stations we don’t have to walk in to talk to others in or out of our corps but still chat in character.

Please comment on this one . . .

m

After the race, things always slow down

August 23, 2010 in Uncategorized by Mike Azariah

“Pthwaaaaah, ha ha ha haaaaaaaaa.” The clone sat up from the holding gel and started laughing as he disconnected himself with practiced hands.

“Sir sir, we can do that, you might injure yourself.”

This only caused him to laugh harder and he doubled over, falling off of the bed. “Injure myself? bwa ha ha haaaaaa” He staggered to the comms and tapped into the fleet chatter listening as others finished the race, and even more reported losses. Bringing up the maps he saw that there was no way to get from where he had appeared to the finish line in time to do anything but wave at the winners so he monitored the channel for a bit as he toweled the clone goo off of his body. He called up the details of his own demise and the smile slowly slid from his face. “damn” His people had rehearsed emergency procedures and it showed. The marines got clear, Free and the heirs favorite slave got clear. But those who were there to party . . . did not. Blame it on high spirits, drunkenness . . . none of the ‘guests’ made it to the emergency chambers. Mike sighed.

A tech handed him clothes to wear and he put them on, absent mindedly. Cloth scrubs, once size fits nobody well. He closed the comm down much more somber than he had been when he opened it. He went down to the hanger deck where he had rented a small temporary office for the party preparations and shut the door behind him, activating the lock. The comm started chiming in the office as soon as he sat down and a glance at the incoming calls confirmed . . . relatives of the partiers, the parents of the four grads who had gotten on at the last minute. He spent a few moments making his a routing program to connect such calls with the documents that all had signed prior to the race. Legally, he was covered. Legally.

The door to Mike’s office suite slid back noiselessly, admitting a tall, craggy faced capsuleer, with iron gray hair and eyes the color of the finest Caldari stainless steel. He had a small fabric bag under one arm.

Dee stepped into the reception area on the way to the hangar deck at almost the same moment.

“Can I help you?” she asked in a tone that indicated she had better things to do than play receptionist and her supply of patience was bouncing off the ‘E’.

The stranger half-smiled, almost in anticipation. “I’d like to speak to Mike, if he’s available.”

“I don’t think he’s much in the mood for visitors,” she said, moving to encourage him to back out the door.

“I see. Taking the Death Race podding hard, is he?” the capsuleer asked, shifting the bag from one side to the other.

Dee shook her head. “You can say that again. He’s been in his office since he got back with the door locked and the comm on “Do No Even Think About It”.”

“New at this part of it?”

“Well, not really new, just having a hard time dealing with losing the ship and the isk and the people,” Dee said quietly. “Especially some of the people.”

“I see. I think I might be able to improve his mood a bit, if I can have a moment of his time.”

Shrugging “It’s your podding. Who do I say wants to talk to him?” Dee turned to the comm panel.

For some reason, that response ignited a sparkle in those eyes and the half-smile turned into a genuine grin as he said simply “Dee.”

“What?”

“You asked who wanted to talk to Mike. Dee does.” he said slowly.

“Oh no! I don’t want to talk to him! I know how he is when he gets in these moods! Now if you want me to see if he wants to talk to you, you’re gonna have to give me your name.” Her tone was a little more frosty.

The grin expanded even more. “Dee” he said, with genuine mirth in his voice.

“Look pal, I don’t know what the joke is, but I already told you that I don’t want to talk to Mike as long as he’s in a funk! Last chance. Tell me your freakin’ name or I’m calling Scotty to toss your sorry ass out into the corridor.” Her volume increased with each word, with ‘ass’ punctuated by a finger point to the chest.

He started giggling at that point.

Rising up on tip toes, Dee began poking him in the chest with each word “Get! The! F! OUT!”

Mike came out of his office “What in the hell is going on out here! Dee?”

The “What?!?!?” was delivered in stereo.

With that, Mike joined the stranger in giggling.

Dee’s expression indicated that someone needed to let her in on the joke very quickly.

Mike stopped giggling long enough to gesture “Dee, let me introduce you to Dee. As in Dee Carson. Dee, Dee.” Having delivered the introduction, the giggle turned into a full on laugh.

The wheels turned in Dee’s head. Her mouth opened. And closed. And opened. “Dee Carson? As in the 250 mil Dee Carson?”

“At your service, young lady.” Dee Carson half bowed.

“Sir, I’m so sorry, I intended no …” she started, only to be cut off, gently.

“Now, Dee, I have to confess that the possibility of an unrehearsed homage to one of my favorite ancient comedy routines was in my mind when I arrived. I hoped that you might great me and that a bit of humor might ensure. I figured you guys could all use a little cheering up.” said Carson. Mike’s laughter faded.Carson turned his attention to the morose pilot. “Mike” he said, “I know that you feel responsible.”

“I don’t just feel responsible, I am responsible.” The pilot muttered.

“Mike, everyone who participated did so with full understanding of the potential consequences.”

“What about the normal people? The non-capsuleers? They don’t get to wash the pod juice off & try again, Dee. What about them?”

“Mike, have you lost a big pot at the poker table when some noob donkey hits a two outer on the river?”

“Sure I have. It sucks then too!”

“Who is responsible for that? The dealer? You? Your opponent?” Caron asked quietly.

Mike inhaled to begin to reply, but stopped, considered and sat down on the edge of the desk. “I see what you did there, old man. But the head can’t make the hurt in the heart go away.”

Carson reached into the old cloth bag & removed a tall, green bottle. “No doubt. That’s what The Glenlivet is for. Given that we are in the company of a lady,” he said with a nod toward Dee, “I think you should find some glasses.”

“Oh no. I have work to do . . . you two boys go do that bonding thing that makes you feel better. I will be up there . . . ” Dee pointed above. She took a moment to glare at Mike. “I don’t want you wandering off till you are over this mood, mister.” With that she walked away and the two men smiled at each other.

Mike lead Carson into the office which was well appointed with Party Boat adverts on the walls and slid a tumbler his way. “You pour.”

The golden liquid did not stay long in the glasses and after the first round was gone and the second lined up Mike started. “Look, I want to apologize. I let you guys down.” Mike hung his head for a moment.

“Not at all!” Dee smiled. “I think only you thought you would make it very far. But it was not the achievement that counted . . . it was trying. Tell me the details of the race. How did it go?”

Mike leaned back and shot the second shot back. Dee tried not to wince at the fine scotch being treated as third class booze. “Well we got the call for the starting system to be Dital. But that was a 0.5 sec system and some of the less savory competitors would have had trouble hanging around there so a few minutes later it shifted to Assah. It was a few jumps through lowsec which went smooth as glass. Assah filled up quickly with all sorts of ships. I docked for a wee bit and let a few last minute people off the party boat. So I went out and took some shots of the boat and some of the folks around the gate.”

“What sort of ships were there?”

“Well, I was the only skiff. There was a Typhoon that HAD to be rigged for disco on the outside, not the inside. I saw Dramiels, Maledictions, Stilettos and Claws. Pretty much any faction frigate or interceptor you could think of. By the time the race was about to start there were about 55 in system.”

“I heard 75 entered.”

“We assumed the rest had come to their senses. That or they joined just so they could be in channel and hear the path so they could set up along it. 5 Million isk scouts.”

Dee brought up a map and nodded. “Right on the border to 0.0, I see.”

“And so could anybody else who could read a map. So yes, bubbles were waiting for us on the first jump.” Mike took a slower sip. I saw pods all around me appearing then vanishing. I came out almost center of a bubble nd followed what Escoce had taught me.”

“Escoce?”

“He had called me to lend support of an educational value. I didn’t make too much noise about it because I was afraid that it might give others an edge if they knew what I was flying or the style I was going to fly it in. He showed me some excellent fittings I could adapt to the sled and also the proper way to be a blockade runner. Which is pretty much what I needed, skill wise. His teaching saved my ass in the first bubble camp. I kept calm, pulled back the camera drones and burned for the edge of the bubble.”

“Nobody popped you?”

“The rules were not to be able to warp cloaked. I cloaked up and was slow-boating my way through the bubble, well within the rules. Soon as I had a clear line on the next gate I dropped the cloak and warped. I even heard someone in a pod cheering that I had made it through that gate.”

“This surprises you?”

“No, it made me happy to be part of this, even in combat the racers were cheering for each other . . . there was a happy violent camaraderie.” Mike held out his glass for more.

“You haven’t flown in large fleet battles, have you?”

Mike laughed. “I am a carebear. I fly solo or with a few friends. Last violent gang I was in was when we went to teach an extortionist that not all carebears lack claws and teeth. He lost a faction cruiser and then taunted us, sitting on a station with two remote rep battleships flanking him. So no, most of what I have done has been small gang.”

“You should try a large fleet. I think you would enjoy it.”

Mike started to laugh. “Maybe I should take the Agony course. They were the ones who had the next gate camp.”

“Another bubble set?”

“About 4 I think, could have been more. I hit an outer one and there was a Sabre on me in nothing flat, firing.”

“So you died?”

“Heh, no. I would have loved to see the Sabre pilots face when he lost a Skiff from point and I warped away. But that still left the gate to get through. I should have been smarter because this is where I screwed up and people died. I pulled up the solar system map and tried to come in from the side, but they had that avenue covered as well. The Sabre spotted me again and they shifted a new bubble on top of me. That meant no more slippery party games.”

“He killed you, then?”

Mike handed across the kill notice. “Him and a few friends.”

Dee read the notice and started to laugh. “All of these, on a skiff? Oh this was worth every isk. You forced them to use multiple sabers, ishkurs and a hurricane and other ships. I will be several ships made it through the gate while they were busy trying to get you. You may have saved some folks by being the biggest target going.” Dee read further down. “Aw, and they didn’t even get the ship pimping.”

Mike smiled. “Yeah, damn shame about that.”

They sat and finished that bottle and a few others as Dee told Mike of larger battles and other losses in other times. In the end, Mike felt slighly better but when he closed his eyes he could still see the happy tourists boardig the ship and hear the unss unss unss of the music of the doomed cruise.

******************************
Lessons

Losing a ship is not losing the game

Well done camps are impressive, Thanks you to Agony for showing me how it can be done.

If you do not go out and risk, you have not been playing for keeps.

Roc is having trouble counting (where is 300)

m

Kill mail below

2010.08.22 18:15:00

Victim: Mike Azariah
Corp: Smegineer’s
Alliance: Brainfarts
Faction: Unknown
Destroyed: Skiff
System: 4B-NQN
Security: 0.0
Damage Taken: 1048

Involved parties:

Name: Pascal Almaric
Security: 5.0
Corp: Agony Unleashed
Alliance: Agony Empire
Faction: NONE
Ship: Ishkur
Weapon: Light Ion Blaster II
Damage Done: 337

Name: RiotRick
Security: -1.2
Corp: Agony Unleashed
Alliance: Agony Empire
Faction: NONE
Ship: Sabre
Weapon: Sabre
Damage Done: 296

Name: Vajrabhairava (laid the final blow)
Security: 5.0
Corp: Agony Unleashed
Alliance: Agony Empire
Faction: NONE
Ship: Hurricane
Weapon: Dual 180mm AutoCannon II
Damage Done: 239

Name: Gingger
Security: 5.0
Corp: Agony Unleashed
Alliance: Agony Empire
Faction: NONE
Ship: Sabre
Weapon: Sabre
Damage Done: 131

Name: Alistone Malikite
Security: 5.0
Corp: Agony Unleashed
Alliance: Agony Empire
Faction: NONE
Ship: Eris
Weapon: Eris
Damage Done: 45

Name: glepp
Security: 4.8
Corp: Agony Unleashed
Alliance: Agony Empire
Faction: NONE
Ship: Ishkur
Weapon: Light Ion Blaster II
Damage Done: 0

Name: Agent302
Security: 4.9
Corp: Agony Unleashed
Alliance: Agony Empire
Faction: NONE
Ship: Sabre
Weapon: 125mm Gatling AutoCannon II
Damage Done: 0

Name: Corywyn
Security: 3.4
Corp: Agony Unleashed
Alliance: Agony Empire
Faction: NONE
Ship: Capsule
Weapon: 125mm Gatling AutoCannon II
Damage Done: 0

Name: Pappy Stirling
Security: 2.7
Corp: Agony Unleashed
Alliance: Agony Empire
Faction: NONE
Ship: Ferox
Weapon: Heavy Assault Missile Launcher II
Damage Done: 0

Destroyed items:

Tobacco, Qty: 100 (Cargo)
Nanite Repair Paste, Qty: 99 (Cargo)
Exotic Dancers, Qty: 35 (Cargo)
Synthetic Oil, Qty: 10 (Cargo)
Micro K-Exhaust Core Augmentation
Magnetic Scattering Amplifier II
Improved Cloaking Device II
Science Graduates, Qty: 4 (Cargo)
Republic Fleet 10MN Afterburner
Janitor (Cargo)
Medium Low Friction Nozzle Joints I
Antibiotics, Qty: 30 (Cargo)
Freed Slaves, Qty: 2 (Cargo)
Spirits, Qty: 20 (Cargo)
Tourists, Qty: 30 (Cargo)
Medium Hyperspatial Velocity Optimizer I
Synth X-Instinct Booster, Qty: 2 (Cargo)
Long-limb Roes, Qty: 25 (Cargo)

Dropped items:

Heat Dissipation Amplifier I
Corpse (Cargo)
Freedom Fighters, Qty: 2 (Cargo)
Spiced Wine (Cargo)
Elite Slaves (Cargo)
Holoreels, Qty: 3 (Cargo)
Livestock, Qty: 10 (Cargo)
ECM Burst II
Marines, Qty: 10 (Cargo)

Low profile

August 13, 2010 in Uncategorized by Mike Azariah

Mike looked around the room and over to the holo-images that were people who wanted to attend but could not come in person. “Ok, I want to lay this out right from the start. I am working on the assumption of ‘relative security’ but I do not expect absolute. If you all could avoid handing the final game plans over to the other side? I’d appreciate it.”

Chuckles answered him and a few took drinks from whatever they had requested. In the distance the thump of a bass beat reached at the bodies of those present as the Party Boat was in full swing. “Yeah, I know, real subtle and below the radar, that’s me. But to business. I hope you all have done the reading I recommended. If any didn’t get the package . . . ”

“Yeah, about that. I saw that you included how to set up a gate camp. I thought we were going in a race?” Kotacko leaned back as he asked the question.

“We are and I know you probably have a fair idea of how to run a gate camp but I want some of the others to have a clue as to what they are up against. Simple details like how a bubble works and where we can expect to see them. Or how fast can a decent tackler get a lock.” Mike grinned around the room. “I practiced a bit with Mar, here. He had a ship set up and showed me in no uncertain terms that I either need to modify the Party Boat or accept the fact that I am gonna see some locks on me unless . . . .”

“No unless about it. If I can lock you then you have to figure there are gonna be a lot more out there that can do the same. You have a plan for that, don’t you?” Mar asked with a smile.

“Aside from the one you have already seen? Yes. I plan on being juuuust the right speed. The interceptors are gonna pull ahead leaving me in their dust. I hope they hit the camps first and ‘occupy’ the time of the campers long enough for me to slip past.”

“Security through obscurity?”

“Exactly. I will be low key all the way.” The door opened behind Mike and a dancer wearing little more than two dots, a dash, and a smile came in to hand him a drink. She then left, giggling. “Yup, under the radar and never doing anything that will make me stand out . . . that’s the plan.” He took a sip of the drink and grinned.

“We are so dead.”

Setting the drink to the side Mike clapped his hands once and said briskly. “So. To business. Aside from knowing how the gate camps might work I wanted to give some of you a few details about things you can do to help even from a distance.”

“Here it comes, he is going to ask for more isk.” Bob groaned to Marham.

Laughing, mike continued. “I need a few folks good at remote scouting, reading the maps and predicting choke points and possible camp sites. I am going to be running hard and trying to look ahead at the same time but there is only so much I can do. I want them looking at the stats for systems, the dotlan route planning, alternate routes if a really big camp is spotted. I’ll need good communications for ‘Friends of the Party’”

“I can help out there, maybe not with the maps but we will see about setting up a secure channel.” Bob said from the side.

“Excellent. I also would love it if some of you were willing to do some last minute scouting and making of bookmarks. We should soon have a clue as to the general region, a few nullsec safes in possible routes would be a nice thing. That being said there is also the more ‘fun jobs’”

“Here it comes.” Marham said to Bob.

“I want hunters. I want the people who think that the race is a rolling buffet to be a bit worried that it is THEM who are on the menu. The last minute nature of the race route should make them less organized, let’s take advantage of that. If I get popped along the way I may switch over to hunt mode and take in a ship or three to explain to campers that being stationary for two long is something I like in a target.”

“This is going to cost.” Mike didn’t see who said that but he nodded amiably.

“It is. No two ways about it. Some of you have already donated to the race fund and we got some major donations as well as offers of experience and advice from some old friends of mine. Aside from some large donation by Odessa Marie of the Evebowl I chatted with some educational folks. Black Claw of OUCH gave me some tips on lowsec survival as well as 30 million isk. Dee Carson, who was a mover and shaker in Eve Uni contacted me and told me to ‘pimp the boat’.”

“Judging from the dancers, I’d say you’ve done that.” Mar observed.

“No, he meant put some isk into it. He tossed 250 into the kitty.”

“That’s not much.”

Mike grinned wolfishly “250 million?”

Stunned silence filled the room. “Where do you meet these people?”

“I chat with a lot of folks, I write and listen to them . . .I did NOT have the guts to ask Chribba for a donation but I was tempted. Escoce contacted me. He is experienced at lowsec trading and he gave me a few pointers on fittings that I am still working on.

“So aside from the dancers, what sort of pimping did you have in mind?”

Mike laid out the blueprints of the party boat and they started discussing . . . .

**********************************

Lessons

1) The RACE is on, more than 40 signed up, from what I hear. Come on folks, join in or become part of the party crew. Betting for the distance the boat will make it will be posted later this week.

2) You can help even if you are not in the race.
a) Cheer on someone you know (or me)
b) Fly somewhere along the route and either shoot for or against
c) Fly with the racers but not be a part of it (If violence occurs there could be some wicked salvage left along the trail)
d) Drop Rixx a line thanking him for making this possible
e) Place your bets when it opens, will I make it through a single lowsec gate? Will I make it to null?

3) At least three bloggers are running IN the race. Come and be ‘famous’

4) Not too late to join the Friends of the Party. An easy way to be a friend is to NOT shoot me when I go by. Slightly more strenuous is to shoot the other folks who are shooting at me.

5) The ultimate would be someone who is along the race route and offers a boat switch when mine runs out. If I can get clear with a pod and someone is nearby then switch and continue without the trouble of jump cloning and rerouting . . . pony express racing.

6) I appreciate suggestions . . . most of the ones I have received so far have been great. Seriously. Black Claw? Escoce? These guys make me willing to even try this sort of thing. I am a carebear missioneer. I build ships and I mine and I do all those petty little things that the ‘real players’ sneer at. But when you read the blogs of the pirates, the ninjas, the null sec wars you get curious. There ARE folks out there willing to teach you, to welcome you to the bigger game. Just look around or ask me . . . for all that I am a carebear I am a well read one.

m

One of those nights

August 12, 2010 in Uncategorized by Mike Azariah

Mike pulled up a stool and slumped over. “Tequila and leave the bottle.”

The bartender shrugged and fetched the order. Mike shot one back and poured the second carefully. Scotty joined him when he was halfway through the bottle, about 20 minutes later. “Yer not one to usually drink alone . . . whats going on, lad?”

“I am afraid to go home, afraid to go back into space . . . I’m cursed.”

“Cursed is it? And what would it be that made you think that?”

Silently the comm pad slid across the bar to sit in front of Scotty. After-action reports, three of them, highlighted. Ah, you lost a ship . . .so it happens . . ah, two ships . . . and a pod?” Scotty started to read closer. “You were fighting Amarr again. But a megathron? Thats a bit of a beast to lose.”

‘I made that boat, mined most of the minerals for it as well.” Mike shot back another drink and refilled the glass. “But I hadn’t taken her out in quite a while and I was rusty. So I got overwhelmed and I lost her. Simple mistake. Expensive, if I had bought it. Woulda been less expensive IF I had insurance. But there you go.”

“So thats not a sign of a curse, lad. Anybody can make a mistake.”

Another shot, another sigh. “I shouldn’t even have taken the damn mission. But anyways, I have to go back to get whatever is left from the wreckage, you know? I autopilot back to get my Ishtar and do this mission right”

Scotty looked down at the comm and shook his head. “And lost that one as well?”

“And all the drones. So I have to head back to Cat, 20 odd jumps, and I am feeling stretched thinner and thinner so I set the autopilot and close my eyes to gather my thoughts.”

The comm told the details. “What was this guy doing setting off a smartbomb in hisec anyways?”

“No idea. I figure I just got caught in the crossfire of someone elses fun and games. But I wake up in Cat and jump right back into a ship.”

“Nay the . . . ”

“Yup one of the two ships I can never afford to replace. I Get into the Navy Scorpion. By my count there should be about a dozen battleships waiting for me back there and one or two of them hit REALLY hard.”

“Wait wait wait. You said you went straight back to the ships bay. STRAIGHT back? As in no stops on the way?”

“None . . . not even to the medical bay . . . I forgot to update my clone.” Another shot followed its brethren.

“Oh lad, that is alll kinds of wrong. So you got in the ship . . . ”

‘Checked that I had enough ammo and started back along the 20 jumps to try to salvage what was left of my ships and my dignity. As I am goiong I decide to look jup some of the amarr ships that were shooting me and had cost me two nice ships so far.”

“What did you find?”

Another shot. “Elite forces. I had been all set for normal forces and they sent their best. Four, FOUR of the battleships were high end and they were after me. It was almost like they had set this up as a trap, and I had walked right into it, three times. As I finish reading the Kodachi on them . . . ”

“Good author, knows his ships.”

“Yeah, well as I finish reading up on them I am back in the pocket with them, and in the distance lies the control tower the Amarr are setting up.” His hand was not as steady as he poured the next shot.

“So you have lost a megathron, a well loaded Elite Cruiser and now you are taking in an even more expensive thing for them to destroy?”

“You forgot to mention my clone status.”

‘Oh and if you die this time . . . ”

“Yup, that about sums it up.” ((Oh, and shutdown in less than an hour . . .just to add a touch of time pressure as well . . . not good))

“So? What happened?”

“I fly a bloody navy Scorpion all the time. I do not ‘forget’ range or tactics with it. I also do not do stupid things like fly it on autopilot across a region where silly-ass exgoons are shooting off smartbombs. When I got to the site I backed way way off and lobbed missiles at the tower, ignoring the battleships. Blew it to hell and its little side towers went up in a sympathetic explosion that was quite satisfying.”

“Did you go back to salvage?”

“Damn rights I did, and everything was gone, lost in the rest of thee space debris. Cursed I tell you, cursed.

****************************************

Lessons

Actually stupid is the correct term.

1) Autopilot is not safe, it is a dumb way to travel, even in hisec

2) Always double check you clone status. I got lucky and did not lose anything permanent.

3) If you switch out ships from shield to armor tank, from close to sniper, from fast to slug. Take some time to familiarize, or you might do some very stupid and expensive things.

4) Salvage only lasts so long, but it so hurts to see it evaporate just as you are opening it up. Especially when it still had all your sentry drones safe and sound in the wreck.

There was supposed to be another Party boat post about here. but this all happened this evening . . . and I am a firm believer in hoping someone can learn from my mistakes, because it seem I can’t

m

Why I race

August 9, 2010 in Uncategorized by Mike Azariah

–OOC—
I read a lot of the blogs, I figure if I want folks to read mine, I ought to be reading theirs. If you do the same you might notice a trend developing. Gods, I hope I am wrong.
———

Mike closed the comms with a grin and turned to Dee who had been fixing the coffee to her specifications. “I do NOT believe it. An old friend tossed some more isk into the Party Boat racing team.”

Dee smiled. “That’s nice. How much?”

“Thirty million.”

A spoon clattered to the floor as Dee looked at him stunned. “Million? What do you have to do for them?”

“Logos on the advertising. They sent a sample . . . EveBowl. I used to work for them now and again, writing stuff and helping out in the lotteries.”

“Lotteries?” Dee tried to pick up the spoon and hide the shake in her hand.

“Yeah. Odessa Marie runs lotteries, lot of them free entry, just sign up and pick a number and you could win ships or cash. Also was the best place to learn about scamming and scammers.” Mike sighed. “I learned a lot there, not that I ever used it. I had called Odessa asking if she could figure out a way to set up some gambling . . . take bets on how well the race will go.”

“You mean betting on how far you get before you die?” Dee was facing the wall so he could not see the tears in her eyes.

“Yeah, I hope to beat the odds and double the expected distance.”

“And then . . . you die?” She turned to face him. “Why? Why do you do this? You have enough isk to retire right now and not do any more foolishness. Stay on a planet or here, on the station with me. Instead you go back out there, you fly and kill and haul into dangerous spaces and now this deathrace. Why, why . . . why?” The last came out as sobs and Mike suddenly realized he had, again, missed the clues as to what direction the conversation was taking.

“Dee?” He stood and took her in his arms. ‘It’s okay, I don’t really die, just this shell does. I know I could settle down but I think something in the makeup of what makes me a capsuleer in the first place is also what keeps me from settling down.” he tipped her face up to look her in the eyes. “But here is where I always come back to.”

“Stay?”

Mike grimaced. “I can’t. I have obligations, duties to the corp and . . . I cannot.” He sighed. “Some of my fellow capsuleers have. I know and can sympathize. They find that the joy of the life is gone, they don’t get the same thrills or lose sight of their goals and they slowly slip into a malaise of ennui. I understand, really I do. One of the things that sets us apart is the fact that we have more control over our destinies, our choices are our own. but if you make some bad ones, commitments or goals that become too heavy a load . . . things break down. They start making bad decisions, taking risks they shouldn’t.”

Mike hugged her close and then stepped back to start pacing, as though the things he wanted to say were forcing him to keep moving. “I was talking to Mynxee the other day and I asked her if the step from being a pirate to a merc had lessened the feeling that she was doing a job and not having an adventure.” He shook his head. ‘That lady is carrying a heavy load and if she doesn’t learn how to lighten it, it may break her. I KNOW a lot of people would be sad to see that happen. Closer to home, even my own corp CEO is showing signs of exhaustion. Everywhere I look journalists are slowing down, stepping back, wondering what it all is for.”

‘What is it all for?” Dee asked. “Why aren’t you burning out with them?”

“Oh I have my slow days, my quiet days of introspection. But then I have things that keep me alive. My writing, new adventures like the Race, fighting back the Nation of Sansha.” He paused and looked right at her, standing very still. “You.”

“Me?”

“I am a capsuleer. If I were to try to retire, to settle down I might change in ways that would make me less, not worthy of you. You know when I see you laughing it makes me feel like I could take a carrier in a shuttle. I know you probably heard about my escapades over the past weeks and yet you still are here with me. Especially some of the rumors . . . I thought . . . ”

‘I may not have the accent like you do, you acadian fool, but I am a proper Gallente. I understand the difference between lust and love. Between want and need. Between the others,” She stepped into his arms and kissed him. “and me.”

Mike kissed her back and held her in an almost bruising hug. “You can understand all that but not why I race?”

“Oh.” She slapped his shoulder, stepping back. “I can understand it, but don’t expect me to like it. You go play with the boys and their big toys. Go play with the girls, too, if that is what you need to do to keep alive inside. But come back to me, after. Promise me you will always come back. I don’t want to change who you are, I have seen too many relationships end because a woman took her man and changed him till he was no longer what she had wanted in the first place. Do I like the thought of you dying? No. Do I relish the images that some anonymous ‘friend’ sent of you kissing a certain redhead or the other reports I have heard about ‘dancer interviews’?” Fire in her eyes answered that one.

Mike sighed. “How did I ever manage to find you.”

“If a cat wanders in enough yards it will find a home.” Dee chided. “Or to quote Issah . . . ‘They thought it a blessing, this gift of space, not understanding that they were only making it harder to find their way back again.’”

Mike closed his eyes and nodded. “He was right. Hard is not impossible, though. I may wander, kiss and interview. I may be the fool, the politician and the explorer. But for all that I know where home is now and nothing is gonna take that away from me.”

***************************************************

Lessons

If the game becomes too much like work, you are doing it wrong or it is wrong for you. It saddens me every time the second conclusion is reached.

I will miss the folks who are suffering from fade and I welcome the new players coming in.

I play this game as a game. I fly ridiculous ships and get into combat, missions hauling mining and damn near everything else. I try to get others to join in and see this as a grand escapade. I invite you all to join the race, fly with the Hulkageddon Runaway party ship. You have nothing to lose except your pants and shirt (if I need to do another planning session)

If you see someone worrying, looking burned out. help them, cheer them up, and for Gods sake DON’T ask them to do something for you. Ask what you can do for them instead. Or better. Find something you can do for them and don’t even make them make the effort of fining the jobs they can delegate.

m

Pit Crew

August 7, 2010 in Uncategorized by Mike Azariah

Pit Crew

It was an hour before he got himself down to the hanger and looked around. It didn’t take much work to find the crowd gathered around the mining ship. Normally they came and went without any fanfare but today . . .

“Well,” Said a capsuleer with a tool belt slung over one shoulder. “Oi rigged ‘er so the main hold can handle the DJ and it will drown out damn near anyfing. If Oi made it any louder then it would be classed as a weapon.”

“Sound system in the hold?” Mike wondered out loud.

“Well the dancers need something to move to, though the ones you hired last night seemed willing to dance whether there was music playing or no. But you told me, Audio, if you are going to be in on this then I need you to rig the music. I done that and pitched in to the kitty, so my part is done, I figure.”

Mike looked at his left arm and saw a small notation, Audio-0.5M + sound system for hold ‘Um, dancers?”

“Yeah, you had them all sign the contract . . . and by that you kept pointing at your shirt.”

“Oh, aye. That explains all the names on the back of this.” Scotty waved my shirt, now covered in fitting orders and names of dancers. “We’ve loaded the booze and smokes on board already, kept them out of the way of the sound guy here. The hardwood flooring will be in as soon as it is shipped up from the planet.”

‘Hardwood flooring?”

“Aye, for the dance floor. You said something about wood with light insets here on your right sleeve . . . ”

By now Mike realized that the rest of the people were gathering around and grinning. “What are you lot laughing at? You all paid into this as well.”

“I, for one, don’t regret a single isk, how about you, son?” Bob grinned and waved up at the ship. “Best in emergency decompression fittings. Your passengers will have an excellent chance of survival, wouldn’t you say?”

Marham grinned at Bob and then at Mike. “Money well spent. This is going to be one hell of a ride for the rich crowd. Who else would have thought of getting extra funding by offering a chance to ride IN the race?”

Mike glanced from them to his arm and back at them in shock. Marham 5m BobF 10m “You are both mad as hatters. Who the hell are the Old Goats?”

“That’d be us. We are in the alliance and heard you might need some funding to fly a pig in a thoroughbred race.” Two pilots looked up at the ship and back at Mike. “You’re calling them mad?” Others crowded up introducing themselves to the increasingly stunned Mike and making comments on how well the Party ship would fare in the race.

Kotacko said it best. “Two, three jumps if you are lucky. Is a big bulls-eye begging to be tagged. You have any plans for making it further?”

Mike ran his hand back through his hair and grinned wolfishly. “May look like junk but she’s gonna have what it takes. All that and exotic dancers, how can I lose? But in answer to your question, yes there is more help to be asked for, and not of the checkbook variety. I am going to need a pit crew and race managers.”

“To do what?”

“Suppose, just suppose, a few friendly folks managed to get ahead of the race in bombers. If they were to find a camp there would be good hunting to be had. Especially if the campers were not expecting an ambush.”

Kotacko shook his head. “If I were setting a camp I would put in Sniper Hacs, not as vulnerable to bomber groups.”

“I have found that we often err in thinking that the enemy has had days to plan an operation and set all the pieces perfectly in place. I actually expect the camps to be ad hoc affairs of ‘bring something to shoot with’. This is the main reason that the course has such security on it. I am likely wrong but that is another thing that a pit crew could do, scout ahead. If we have some folks down the line spotting the camps we might be able to reroute or least wise be on the toes more when hitting them.”

Two techs came down out of the ship and waved. “Yer eight view-screens are set in the hold now. Cross-rigged to the DJ’s board.”

“For the party, so they can see the race from inside?” Mike asked weakly.

“Now its coming back to him. Show him the plans for the advertising campaign.” Smeginhell walked up from behind, laughing. Kleve pulled out a pair of pants with designs and notes all over them.

“What did I wear home?” Mike asked softly.

“I think you still had your left shoe on when we saw you leave with . . . ”

“Now now, son.” Bob chided Marham. “We aren’t to be spreading gossip.”

“What about what he was spreading?” Marham joked and then was quiet.

Mike slowly looked up at the docking bay supervisor window and he could see Dee up there, laughing down at him and his friends. The laughter told him far more than he could hope for. “Now if you cannot hunt the hunters and you aren’t close to the start you can still scout the far end. If you are in the race with me then we can cross link information.”

“I was thinking if I go in it I might bring along a remote rep setup, just in case.” Kotacko said. “I still think you are crazy but it is a fun kind of crazy.”

“Two mining ships?”

“Do I look THAT mad? No I will be in something a bit quicker and better at surviving.” Kotacko grinned. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt to pack a remote repper for the party boat. see if we can beat the morning odds.”

“What odds?” Mike asked closing his eyes.

“The local media found out about your plan and they are already making book on how far you will get. I think your right knee has the info you ‘leaked’ to them.” Kotacko took the pants from Kleve and showed how Mike had planned out the campaign. “This in turn will get the rich thrill seekers curious and make the ride THE hot ticket of the season. We just have to follow the shin timeline.”

Mike took his clothes back and slowly looked through the notes written all over them. Names, contact numbers, plans, meeting times. “According to my armpit we have a strategy meeting in four days.” Mike held up the shirt. “I expect the party vessel to be painted and wired and ready. Audio, my ribs tell me you know how to get a quick party going? We will be hosting the Meet the Ship right after the meeting. I’ll need a DJ, all the dancers and then some. Scotty, whatever we ordered for ‘party supplies’, double and have the second load standing by to replace the first. Now we all have our assignments, gentlemen? I am going to go throw-up and then sleep for six more hours.”

He staggered out of the hanger to laughter but he only had eyes for the woman laughing far far above him.

***************************************************

Lessons:

http://deathrace.evepress.com/ Read this if you have no idea what race I am talking about.

There are a lot of people willing to pay to see you do something different. Some of the ones who donated I know but other donations came right out of the blue.

I’d love to figure out how to set up a betting board for this race. How far, how fast . . .etc.

Thanks for donations to AudiogeekUK, Old Goats Logistics, Jhered Skyfire, Drakken war, You Dobber, Xaveir machievelli, Kotacko, Smeginhell, Kleve, Marham and BobFenner.

These are people who know damn well that this is going to be a fools errand and they still are willing to fund it. I welcome input as to other things the pit-crew can do. It is not too late to be part of classic silliness.

m

Three good plans . . . so I take the fourth

July 31, 2010 in Uncategorized by Mike Azariah

The bar was not too busy but he was sure that would change, slowly. He nodded to the people he knew and looked for some of his corp mates. They had pulled a few tables together along with some folks from the alliance and it looked like the party had already started. As the pitcher went around he grabbed a free cup and filled it, sipping he told Kry, “I need permission to ‘pass the hat around’.”

Kry shook her head. Mike always seemed to think that he should let her know what he was up to, then he went wandering off like the Cat he was and did his own thing. “For what?”

“I am thinking of entering the Death Race.” That got all the tables attention. He spent the next few minutes giving variations of his stock answers. “No, I do not expect to win. No, I do not expect to survive, Victoria already offered to kill me in a far less expensive way . . . told me it would be more fun as well. No, I didn’t take her up on it. Yes, you can help.”

“Tell me more about the race.” Kry sat back, the queen listening to the jester.

“OK, in a couple of weeks a group of insane pilots will all pay for the privilege of starting in an unknown system in lowsec, race through nullsec and end somewhere in hisec. After the first system violence between the races will be allowed. Violence from outside of the contestants is expected. No cloaked jumping, no cyno leaps, no capitals, no shuttles, and no T3 strategic cruisers. I plan on joining them having the basic requirement of the 5 Million entrance fee and a complete lack of common sense.”

Mar, down the table grinned. “So, an interceptor is it?”

“I can fly any one of them now and that WAS my first thought.” Mike admitted. “I was out test flying my stiletto, seeing how fast I could make her. Was about to start asking you to practice with me . . . but then i got to thinking.”

“Uh oh.” Mar grinned as he said that.

“Yeah. That rule about violence being encouraged made me think that maybe surviving might be more important than just being fast. The quick ones will be first for the funeral processions and gate camps. Maybe ’slow and steady’ wins the race might be the philosophy to try.” Mike took a pull from his glass. “So I started looking back to my roots . . . the Drake.”

“A racing Drake? You’re mad!” A pilot pulled up a chair and sat. “The name is Kotacko, I would go with an interceptor if i was entering. Instead i plan on camping the race if it goes near my turf.” He grinned at Mike. “I have read some of your stuff, writers are on my ‘hit list’ so I hope to se you out there.”

Mike grinned. ‘Hopefully for only half a second, or so.”

“A drake will die to a camp. Bubble and watch it waddle, Twenty stealth Bombers and you have pwnage.”

“That assumes twenty stealth bombers are waiting. But I decided against waddling in a running race. Which lead me to my next plan. A disco Typhoon. If I could get to the first jump fast enough i would be the wildcard to end all wildcards.” His grin took a wolfish cast. “They would be sure I would roll it on the first turn and take all their sparkly little interceptors out.”

The table laughed and Mike took an other drink. “So which plan are you going to go with?” Chewy was asking that one.

“None of them. I am asking for the alliance to sponsor me and I am going to ‘represent!’” Mike made a fist and held it high. “I am going to fly a mining ship.”

There was stunned silence for a moment and then the table started laughing. “You almost had me there. I thought you were being serious.” Mar gasped.

Mike roared back. “I am serious. We are miners and makers. I am taking a mining ship into the race. Now I am passing the hat for the ‘Hulkageddon Runaway’ fund and I would appreciate it if you all tossed some isk in to cover basic expenses . . . fittings, fuel, funeral.”

The jug was passed around and drinks were refilled as the groups alternated between trying to convince Mike to take an interceptor and trying to find a mining ship with a chance of making at least two jumps before dying. Chewy was the first to toss two million isk into the fund.

*********************************

Lessons

When entering a race or contest decide what YOUR winning conditions are. I am out to stun and amuse. I doubt I will get very far but that does not mean I won’t be trying.

You are welcome to toss some isk towards this project, if you enjoy reading my blog I’d appreciate the help . . . Mike Azariah in-game is already fitting and practicing.

Fair warning. If I talk to you in game there is a distinct chance you might wind up in the blog, one way or the other.

I am trying to find the page in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas about the inappropriate vehicles that were being considered for the Mint 400

m

Mine mine

July 26, 2010 in Uncategorized by Mike Azariah

The poster was simple and to the point:

Temperate mining and factory facility is hiring, preference given to Veterans.

The agent he hired to do the interviews and make up two of the three teams was someone he had worked with often and things went smoothly as a result. The professor staffed the dig personnel and the operation was ready to go on both fronts in about the same amount of time.

Mike looked into his hanger thinking about what he would fly. The Primae had yet to be christened but he had already heard rumours of a ‘contest’ to see who could pop the most planetary operation vessels. So, something with a large enough cargo hold but unlikely to be considered worth trying to kill.

———————————

They watched as all their gear was trundled aboard the ship and then necks craned back to try to take it all in.

“Mother of all. Is this what I think it is?” Shep was looking up at the ‘tail’ of the ship arcing high above the rest of it, like a weapon, ready to strike.

“I’m more worried about that.” Trace pointed a delicate hand off to the side where a troop of fully loaded mercenaries stood waiting for their turn to load. “I was told we were just doing a short couple of hops and staying in Empire space.”

Shep nodded. “A few things are making me think this might not be your average dig, aside from this.” his sweep of an arm took in the loading. “We have not been even told what sort of dig this is going to be.”

“Great Zimbabwe” Her reply was short and to the point. “He wants to make sure we do not have expectations that will prejudice the finds.”

“I know the theory, but this means he expects the find to be . . . significant. This is not just another dig, not if he is doing the full rigor right from the start. Especially not if we are bringing security in even before anything is found.”

———————————————

“Nice quiet guard duty” He finger spoke in scout. The troop was waiting for their turn to load.

“Idiot, you know better than to jinx a mission with that sort of talk.” His companion grimaced.

“OK, then how about nice legs on that one over there?”

“That’s better, stick to things you know, guns, girls, and how you miss so often with both of them.”

—————————————

Mike brought up the scan of the planet and adjusted it again. “Here is where the facility will go.”

“Yer daft, it will never work up to specs and you could do far better to shift it over to the . . . “

“We have been over this. I want the operation to be up and running but I am not worrying about it doing much more than covering basic costs. Even though this is in a hisec system with lots of traffic I am paying the danger bonus for a reason.” He touched the design and started indicating where the facilities would go. “I know this won’t work well but it is mainly there for show and eventually to pay for the scholarships, if and when it turns a profit.”

“Scholarships?”

‘Yup, one for the archeologists, one for the mercenaries, and one for the miners.” Mike smiled. “I have heard bad things about some of the Planetary Operations. I want my operations the kind folks try sign onto.”

“Would be easier if you tried to make them profitable.” The foreman grumbled.

“That will come in its own time”

************************************************

Lessons

I think it all comes down to whether you want to play farmville in space. I set the PI stuff so I only have to check it every few days. This is NOT efficient and it will take ages for it to turn a profit. I don’t care. I am in this for a long haul, not the quick isk.

People who do not read and follow the outside game often have no warning about events like Hulkageddon or the Battleclinics latest anti PI run. Of course if you are stubborn enough to read even this you already are aware of such things.

m

(one post down, three more in the head begging to get out)

Nothing more dangerous than a stubborn and well spoken representative.

July 3, 2010 in Uncategorized by Mike Azariah

Mike sighed and watched as the work crews repaired the damage to his entry and another crew ’swept’ the area for bugs. “Highest tech, assume, guys.”

“Hard to be sure, sir. Every time we make a finder they make a different hider.” One of the techs said. “But you ordered the subscription package so we will be keeping a steady sweep and upgrade, for now the jammers should keep you fairly secure. Use land line comms through our portal and we will make sure nothing is piggybacked.”

Mike nodded. “Thanks guys. And the upload from my monitors?”

“Backed up. She did disable the outer set. How did you know she would be doing that?”

“I assume that my shields will be hit. Basic armor tanking philosophy is let them shoot the shields, but keep the plates strong. She knows, if she has done her research that I fly shield ships, so I switched it up. If you need me I will be down in the bays.”

“Aye, sir.”

*************

Mike found Scotty on the hanger floor supervising the loading of a freighter. “Heyas.” He handed across a coffee and sipped another of his own.

“Haven’t seen you for a while. Thought you ‘guest’ might have eaten you.”

“Was a close thing. You get a good look at her?” Mike grinned.

“And then some.” Scotty frowned. “A few of the boys were looking a bit . . . concerned.”

“Pass the word, they don’t need to be, but she is going to be wanting to make me look bad. Maybe try to flush me out of this system entirely.”

Scotty rolled his eyes. “Oh to have your problems. You follow the CSM summit?”

Mike grimaced. ‘Speaking of flushing, eh? Yeah, I read both Ankh’s and Mynxees reports. Going to be interesting to see the spin the main report will have.”

“You think they will spin it?”

“I think they have to. The CSM candidates pushed hard for some acknowledgment and I think they got some of it. But there is still a long way to go. They are asking that the powers that be become more responsible for things in the past. That is a lot to ask for as most decisions in the past have been like missiles. ‘Fire and forget’. My favorite part is that rather than demand changes to some things they are asking for metrics, instead. Especially focusing on lowsec.”

“You were part of one of Mynxees discussion groups for that, weren’t you?”

“Yup.” Mike chuckled. “Between her and Ankh I think CCP might be regretting giving women the vote. Those two may not agree but they don’t back down, either. Nothing more dangerous than a stubborn and well-spoken representative.”

Scotty looked at Mike for a moment and shook his head. “I still do not understand how you manage to make even the people you oppose friendly. Nor how you can admire them at the same time you fight them in an election.”

Mike laughed. “Maybe it’s the coffee. I don’t know the details of the Summit. When that gets published maybe we can grab a bite and go over it.”

“Sounds like a plan”

*************************************************************

What the CSM may have got from the summit. (Quoted form Mynxees blog)

• Produce an Itemized List of CSM Submitted Items in Backlog
• Identify Tool/Process Change to Tag CSM Items in Backlog
• Publish a Dev Blog on Excellence
• Publish a Dev Blog on the Tyrannis Snafu: Numbers, Impact, Causes, Etc.
• Report to CSM on Percentages of PI Participation in Null, Low, and High Sec
• Report to CSM on Low Sec Demographic Data
• Publish a Low Sec Statistics Dev Blog (will satisfy previous bullet)
• Publish a Dev Blog on MMO Scaling Issues
• Report to CSM on Accessibility Alternatives to Removed Widescreen
• Request High Priority for Corporate Management UI Fixes from Internal Decision Makers (Again); Report Outcome to CSM
• Provide CSM with Time Estimates for List of Balance Issues We Will Provide

We did a good job in the last election and I want to thank the CSM as a whole for their efforts so far, this term.

m

Dinner Party for Two

June 30, 2010 in Uncategorized by Mike Azariah

Tl:dr version +nothing to see, move along, no lessons hiding at the end+

Mike ran his fingers through his hair and looked around the apartment one last time. The open design allowed him to take it all in, from the bay window overlooking the hanger floor to the kitchen where several things were heating, cooling, or chopped and ready to go. He opened the wine so it could ‘breathe’ and then glanced at the time, to the door and back at the time. Dammit, she was late.

He opened a channel to the Summit to see if she had left a message there. The usual folks were, but she was nowhere to be seen. He sighed and turned down the foccacia and watched the Summit folks chat. His favorite exchange was when Literia said “You hold to what you believe, and I will to mine. I agree to disagree on that matter nothing more.”


To which Lady Sylvanna replied “That is your right.” Since the lady served the Nation this was almost an irony on a level normally only found when investigating government corruption. Mike grinned and then he smelled the smoke.

“Arg” The foccacia was ruined and the bruschetta had just gone on to broils cycle. He looked at the door and then over at the kitchen and realized he had set one of the carving knives on the table. The oven started smoking as he sat there wondering how and why he would think a ten inch blade was needed at the table. “Oh right, it IS Victoria”

The knock on the door could not have been better timed, right as he was picking up the knife. He veeered from his path towards the cooking area to open the door.

Victoria was wearing a simple, conservative dress, deep red, that hugged her body tightly in all the right places. Her long, red hair is braided and fell over one shoulder. “Good evening, Mike.” She ignored the knife and smiled broadly.

Mike grinned back and waved her in. “Oh there you are. Welcome welcome, cherie, steps back, come in, ignore the smoke, tis only an appy.” He suddenly noticed the knife in the hand he was gesturing with. “Oops” Mike tossed the knife across the room, It spun lazily in flight then stuck with an almost musical thrum into a cutting board.

She smiled and walked in, grinning at him and the knife and looking around, a playful sway in her hips at she walks past him. Mike raised his eyes to the sky and wondered if maybe, juuuust maybe, everyone who had told him this was a bad idea were right. He straightened his shoulders and plowed forward because it was too late to change course.

”Now, I hope you brought your hunger” He said as he escorted her into the room towards the small table for two he had set in the center.

Victoria turned to him and grinned “I told you to make food for a small army. Yes, I brought my appetite.” Looking around she said “This is a nice place. I like it.”

Mike grinned “Excellente. Now, an appy . . . “ He headed over to the kitchen area where several things were either cooking or basting or, in one case, rotating in and out of a boiling pot. “I did not know your preferences but I thought serving you this would be a good beginning.” He offered the plate with small green vegetables mixed with very large prawns.
Victoria grinned “ As long as it doesn’t bite back, I’ll eat it.”

“The prawns are dead, as of . . . “ he glanced at a clock “about an hour ago. The greens are artichoke . . .hearts”

She giggled in a way that made Mike glance to make sure the knife was still where he had tossed it. “Oh good. Not that I wouldn’t mind killing them myself – ugly little buggers.”

As she munched happily on the prawns and artichoke hearts Mike grinned. “I anticipated that as well, but that is the second course”

She smiled happily at him as she scooped up a few more appetizers, enough that it would be a full meal for some people Mike had met.

“Now, I hope you had no difficulties finding the place?” He asked as he lead her over to the window that overlooked the docking bays.

She leaned against the window, looking out and commented. “Nice view.”

Mike standing slightly behind her nodded. “Yes indeed . . . oh you mean out the window . . . ahem, yes I do like to watch the ships come and go”

Vcoria looked coyly over her shoulder and giggled. “Oh? Is there another view you’re enjoying, Mike?” She shifted her body weight, posing slightly, sticking her hips to one side and turning her head up a little.

Mike shook his head and murmered. “And I thought the old song named the devil to be in a Blue dress” He clapped his hands to break the moment. “Now, the second course takes a bit of work and preparation, if you will follow me?” He lead her over to the cooking area and opened the lid of a pot then looked in. “Ah good, full rolling boil. Now if you will look in the sink you will find the second course awaiting your attentions.”

She looked into the sink, saying “I prefer red over blue – it hides blood stains better.” Two lobsters looked back up at her, claws unbound and twitching.

“Now these two petites . . . it is time for their ‘bath’” He rolled up a sleeve and, with a practiced motion, grabbed one and held it up. “The other one, she be yours.” Then he raised an eyebrow in a challenging way.

Victoria raised an eyebrow back at him and debated how to do this. She decided to do it the easy way and simply poke the lobster in the face until it pinched her, then lifted her hand with the lobster hanging off and placed it in the boiling water holding her hand in the water until the lobster let go, then withdrawing it. Her hand showing little sign of damage.

Laughing Mike crowed. “Crude, but tres effective” He dropped his own into the boiling water and the scream of the lobsters (or steam escaping) filled the air for the moment. “They will take a bit to properly cook, have you had lobster before?”

“It’s one of my favorites. My chef does a decent job with them.” She said, nodding.

“Then you know how to use the tools, good”

“I know how.” Victoria said, chuckling. “I don’t usually bother. My teeth and cla – hands work just as well, if not better.”

Mike hoped his grin hid the first reaction to what she was saying, and not saying. “Well, we do not stand on ceremony”

“Oh good.”

“You use what tools work for you.” He gestured to the table. “Wine?”

“Sounds lovely.” she nodded graciously

Mike held both glasses out, equidistant. She took the one in his left hand and raised it slightly in a toast. “Thank you.”

He acknowledged the toast and drank from his own glass then considered the color. “I know tradition proclaims that white wine goes with seafood but there will be reason for red soon enough.”

Taking a sip and smiling, Victoria replied with a small smile. “I don’t much care for tradition. Whatever works, works.”

“Ah, then on that we agree. I do want to remember to thank you for the interview, before I forget. The raison d’etre, after all.”

“It was no problem. It was fun.” She replied.

“I appreciated the fact that you were giving straight answers, as opposed the the Nation folks, who I now believe to define themselves by not answering questions.” Mike sighed

Victoria giggled “Yeah, talking with them is generally fruitless.”

“For a while I enjoyed poking sticks through the bars but that held little long term fun.” Mike looked up from his glass as a soft chime filled the air for a moment. “Ah, the meat is done.”

She nodded and returned to the window as he removed the lobsters and prepared them on a plate of greens. When he was ready she returned to the table. Mike took up a cracking tool and broke the leg of the lobster then used a long fork to slide some of the meat out and into his mouth. “Now the third course is already in so eat up. Oho, I almost forgot, “ He went back into the kitchen and brought out two saucers of drawn butter from the warming pan. “Eh la, there you go.” He watched as Miss Stecker broke off a leg with her fingers and, cracking it open with her teeth, then fished the meat out with her tongue. “”What works, works.” he murmured more to himself than to her.

She beamed as she dipped the next bit of meat in the butter before pulling it out. If looking closely, one would notice that her tongue is a bit stronger and more coordinated than it should be. Mike tried very hard not to ‘look closely’. They discussed the one thing they had in common, aside from the meal before them, the Sansha.

As a chime sounded Mike was discussing how disconnected from the action he felt. The timing and location of the attacks were often juuuust out of his reach. He walked back into the kitchen and removed two large racks of lamb, carving one into very large portions he filled a platter and set it before Victoria. A smaller plate was enough for himself. “I made the basic assumption of rare, but not Tartar. I hope I was correct?”

“Sounds good.”
He set out a small bouwl of a fruit chutney and another of mint jelly. “Now I don not know if you use condiments but better to be prepared.”

An eyebrow raised and a quirk of the mouth accompanied her answer of “I’m always open to learning.”

“A straight line if I ever heard one My father used to joke that he did not trust condiments . . . but he wish he had after the third child.” Mike chuckled

“You’ll have to forgive how quickly I eat if I’m going to avoid slowing things down.” Victoria warned

“Knife is found on the table, or you may rend and tear at your own meat. You are the guest, you only apologize if you get food on the ceiling.”

Looking up at the ceiling, “I’ll see what I can do. And I’ll clean it if I do make a mess.”

Mike bit back a reply, chuckling and eying the dress. Then he watched for a moment as she picked up the lamb with both hands and begins to devour it at a rate that should not be possible for a woman her size – or any size, for that matter. Smiling he dipped a carefully cus slice of his own meat into the mint jelly. Still chewing he rose to fetch the whipped potatoes and the jullienned carrots. “Side dishes . . . please do not feel obligated to eat them if you prefer the meat.” He could not resist wiggling his eyebrows on the last words.

Her answer was obvious as she finished with the rack of lamb, leaving behind nothing but clean bones and cartilage, and digs into the potatoes, this time polite enough to use the serving spoon… to feed herself.

Reaching over Mike grabbed a scoop of the potatoes and carrots fro himself before leaning back and smiling. “You have no idea how good it is to see a person enjoy ones cookin.” He dug back into his own meal at a more reasonable pace.

“Getting me to eat something doesn’t take much. But this is genuinely enjoyable. If I didn’t have this absurd appetite to deal with, I’d slow down and savor it.”

“Well, you did warn me and if nothing else, I am prone to listen to what people say.” Qietly he cleared her now empty meat plate and replaced it with another large cut from the kitchen.

“Easily my biggest living expense these days is just keeping myself fed.”

“Mine is chasing shinies” Mike admitted
“Oh? What sort of shinies?” She asked with a giggle.

“Ah, that is what I call ships. I always want to fly the next one. A few systems from here I am assembling a Proteus. But on that, I take my time because I have a bad feeling about what will happen when I fly it.

“I prefer to fly things small and disposable. My ‘cane is as big as I care to go, otherwise I stick with t1 and t2 frigates.” She poked at the second rack of lanb and then set in on it.

“Most of those shinies I already fly though a worm . . .that I have yet to find.” He watched her eat for a moment. “Have you ever considered your appetite might just be that? No offense intended”

“A worm? Nah, I know what it is.” She cvhuckled at the thought. “I have some physical.. augmentations, we’ll call them, that enhance my physical abilities but also give me an absurd metabolism.”

“Ah, fuel for the souped up vehicle” Mike nodded.

“That’s a decent way to put it, yes.”

“Well then, refuel away.” He pushed back his own plate and refilled both their wine glasses. “Of course, just because I stop, do not let me slow your feeding,”

She nodded as she devoured the second rack of lamb, the rest of the potatoes and the carrots, then licked her lips with satisfaction. Her tongue, a little bit longer than average, but nothing unheard of.

Mike grinned and cleared the table again. “Well, a sorbet to clear the palate.” He set a small glass of sorbet down for himself and silently passed her a bowl of it. He spooned a small bit of it into his mouth as he watched her lick clean the serving spoon from the potatoes then use the same spoon to eat the sorbet. “I hope you have some room left for the dessert . . . but not too much.” He again cleared off the table and brought out a large bowl of fruit including strawberries, bananas, melon balls but he held up a hand as Victoria leaned forward. “Not yet . . . “ He made one last trip to the kitchen and returned with the finale to the meal. “A chocolate fountain. I hope you are familiar with chocolate fondue? This keeps everything at juuuust the right temperature. You dip the fruit in and . . . “

Victorias eyes had lit up and she looked almost stunned. “Are you serious? I love it!”

“Please, no guzzling directly from the fountain until the very end of the meal.” Mike said laughing.

“If you insist,” and dips a strawberry in the chocolate, then slowly puts it in her mouth and bites through it with an euphoric look on her face, “Oh Mike…. Thank you…”

She looked a little embarrassed, “I’m sorry, I just like strawberries and chocolate… a lot.” Slowly Victoria finished the strawberry, taking the time to savor the flavor as a little of the juice runs down her chin.

“Aha, I have discovered your true power source.” He grinned. “Then the strawberries here, are yours, I shall work with bananas and blackberries”

She looked at him with a slightly worried hint in her eyes, then realized that he was joking, giggled and then slowly dipped another strawberry in the chocolate.

“I do not mean to brag but I am very proud to say that all this food I flew up this morning from the farms below.” Mike smiled wider. “Merde, I DO mean to brag.”

“If you flew it up from the farms below just today… why did I have to wait for weeks for the dinner you promised me?”

Mike held his hands up in mock defence. “I had to find the farms, first. Making contacts and contracts with individual farms takes time.”

She rolled her eyes and then closed them as she bit into another strawberry and sighed.

“But all is forgiven?”

He was ignored while she finished the strawberry then opened her eyes and looked at him, licking her lips. “I’ll think about it.”

“All I can ask for.”

She raises an eyebrow and slowly, seductively ate another strawberry. “Oh, you could ask for more, I imagine… but you might be wise enough not to.” She allowed a little more juice to dribble down her chin to her neck before reaching for a napkin.

“While I am not famed for my wisdom, I do try to have basic survival instinct” While he was not sure of it, she almost looked a bit disappointed but then she ate another strawberry to cheer herself up. Mike reflected on the fate of the lobster and racks of lanb and assured himself that he had made the right decision.

Victoria ate another strawberry, slowly, savoring the flavor. “So Mike… besides cooking and collecting shinies, what do you do?”

“Oh, odd jobs for this agent and that . .. hunt the slavers when they come round, I mine a bit build with what I mine . . . I trade and I have four or five planetary mining operations on the go” He thought for a moment. “I await a chance to end this Sansha 10 million . . . and I write, poorly if you listen to the reviews of the Nation.”

“I think you write just fine, Mike.” She replied finishing the last strawberry and moving on to other fruit, eating them more quickly, enjoying them but not nearly as much.

“ And you? May I inquire as to your activities?”

She shrugged. “These days, not a whole lot. Orhca has been fairly inactive ever since our war with SYNE, and I’ve been working as a hired gun for some folks who decided to set up colonies in lowsec. With the return of Nation attacks, I once again have something to keep me busy.”

“I have missed those attacks, so far. I arrived to see wreckage, for one” Mike muttered under his breath.
“I don’t say that like it’s a good thing. Yeah, they seem to be going for smaller, faster attacks to try and get in and out before overwhelming resistance arrives.”

Mike grinned. “For all their proclamations of being unstoppable they are fighting a careful war.”

“Indeed. I am curious whether they will attack Imperial space again now that the Amarrian Navy has decided to get involved.”

“I had a horrible thought earlier.” Mike mused. “What if the 10 million returned and asked for their lives and properties etc back? What if they did that but were now in the service of the Nation?”

“As long as they serve Nation, they will be turned away, or possibly killed.”

“Perhaps,” Mike answered “but the Nation could use that as a propaganda gold mine. I would.”

“I’ve heard rumors that those being “liberated” are actually going willingly, because they called Nation to get them, not because they are being kidnapped. In that case, they know they are giving everything up when they leave.” Victoria volunteered.

“I had not heard that rumor.”

“Nation doesn’t want it well known. If they give away that they are being contacted and that the people they take are willing, it will give the empires new options for thwarting them.”

“Baiting a trap?”

“Or intercepting communications because they know they should be looking, things like that. Nation may be crazy, irrational, and annoying, but they aren’t nearly as stupid as we’d like them to be.”

“Nothing more bothersome than a competent enemy.”

“Normally I enjoy a challenge, but this time, I simply want Nation to burn.”

Mike grinned wolfishly. Tell me where and when and I will bring the ’smores.” She giggled at him warmly as he added. “Yes, dear, with extra chocolate.”

Her eyes got a wicked gleam in them as she and licked her lips, then dipped a finger in the chocolate and put it in her mouth, slowly sucking the chocolate off it.

Mike started to sweat, slightly “Now now, no teasing.”

Victoria dipped her finger in the chocolate again, and offers it to him. “Does this count?”

He hesitated and then licked the chocolate off and smiled. “Yes.”

“You going to get upset if I do it again?”

He sighed and grinned. “No, but others might and you get to leave this station.”

“Others? Such as?”

“I have a girl I am seeing. And she is very well known in this station. When you asked where I lived you pretty well announced to the entire station that I had a visitor. While I appreciate being appreciated . . . . I also like to keep all my body parts attached and in their proper places.”

She stared at him quietly. The smiles were gone. “Well, Mike, you’re an idiot. I like you anyways, but that’s beside the point. Announcing to the station that I am coming to visit was foolish if any of them might know who I am. And yes, you announced it to the station when you told me to ask the dock crew rather than simply telling me where you live. I hope your special someone gets word of who I am, not to mention when I was wearing, and gives you hell for it, maybe taking one of those limbs you’re so intent on keeping.” Obviously the little dinner party was over. She stood from the table, dipping her fingers in the fountain and lookng at him with a cold gaze. “I am rarely rejected, Mike, and do not take it well. We will see what I decide to do about this snub.”

He saw her to the door quietly, his survival instinct telling him that anything he said now would either be useless or make things worse. When the door closed and she was gone he walked back to the table and opened another bottle of wine.

“Coulda been worse.”

The sounds of something splintering in the hall sounded for a moment and he did NOT even look in that direction. He looked out the window, across to where Dee worked and smiled. “Stand down, and thank you.”

The next morning as he left he found the deep groves in the outside of the door to your condo. They looked as if they were made by the claws of a large cat, in the shape of a heart with a jagged line through it.

Lessons

1) I lie.
2) Being prepared is especially wise when dealing with people you do not know or trust
3) Strawberries and chocolate . . . goooood
4) No matter how bad the Sansha plan is, I can probably imagine it a lot worse.

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