A Grim Journey

The slavers in the region known as Providence, along with their pets and servants, have built their financial edifice on a foundation of slavery.  In spite of their protestations of peaceful freeholding, they bind their tenants with agreements of mutual support and financial dependence.  Their entire economy is based on slavery, and anyone who operates within it is in at least tacit agreement with their view that the enslavement of other people is justified; whether for financial gain, or religious indoctrination, or for any other purpose.

Pod pilots who operate in Providence contribute, either knowingly or unknowingly, to this state of affairs.  Those who belong to the space-holding alliances are active members of the slave-state — this much is beyond question.  Less obvious, but equally valid, un-aligned pilots who use the space and services provided by the slavers are as guilty as they themselves are of this despicable crime against humanity.  By contributing to the slave economy, such “neutrals” provide the slave-holders not just with revenue, but also with legitimacy, helping to perpetuate the evil that is slavery.

It is the shared and considered opinion of all of the major anti-slavery alliances that, in the matter of human slavery, you’re either with us or against us.  There can exist no neutrality in this war.  As such, Ushra’Khan and the other such organizations consider Providence and its surroundings to be a “free fire” zone.  While in these areas, you are either fighting against slavery, which earns you our friendship, or contributing to it, which earns you our emnity.

The space holders of Providence, and the supposed “neutrals” who grow fat off the blood of our brothers, decry us as “terrorists”.  This does not concern or deter us.  Our position is clear and un-equivocable: if you live in these areas, and comply with the rules set forth by your masters, you are in word as well as deed supporting the slavery of our people.

We will come for them.  And we will come for you.

“These guys really are good at this”, I thought, not for the first time that day.  I  had just watched a gang of experienced Ushra’Khan combat pilots efficiently dismantle a small raiding party of enemy ships, with no losses to themselves.  Since arriving in the region known as Catch, I had participated in very few combat operations, having been occupied primarily with logistical and administrative issues related to the move.  Still, even with those few exposures to the prowess of my new compatriots, it was obvious both that I had a lot to learn, and that I was in the right place to learn it.

When I initially learned of Valklear Guard’s plan to join Ushra’Khan, and the resulting move to the unsecured space of Catch, I felt both trepidation and excitement.  Life in nullsec promised to be dramatically different from my experience in Empire-space.  I knew we would face many challenges, not all of them predictable; logistical difficulties, new types of combat (large scale fleets, POS warfare, bubbles), the sheer scale of the theatre, and the skill level of other pilots, both friends and enemies.  While there was some concern within the Corporation about Alliance politics and the difficulties of meshing with the existing infrastructure, I was excited about the idea of building something, of making a difference.

That was the crux of the problem with serving in the Republic Militia.  Fighting the Amarr (as well as the odd pirate) in the contested zone was certainly exciting, but lacked the feeling of actually accomplishing anything.  There are many very talented pilots in the Militia, and a number of fine corporations serving there; it was usually easy to find a fleet to fly with, and always possible to find a fight.   I was proud to be a member of this team, pleased at our accomplishments and distressed by our occasional failures.  In the end, though, it just seemed like a meaningless grind — it was clear that nothing of lasting value could come of it.  The Guard’s move to Ushra’Khan offered a way to take the experience I had gained in the Militia and apply it in a way that might actually advance the cause of freedom.

So, after much purchasing and packaging, after many trips between Amamake and Agil, and a number of (sometimes hair-raising) trips between Agil and F4, I found myself on the front-lines of the fight.  Here I was, flying with the best skirmish warfare pilots around, fighting the fight I felt like I was meant to fight.  And I meant to do a lot more of it…

With a flash of light, the enemy ships began to drop their gate cloaks.  Previously invisible to my ship’s sensors due to interference from their gate jump, one by one the marauders seemed to spring into being.  Interceptor, Cruiser, Heavy Cruiser: energy flashed from their batteries as they engaged the waiting defenders.  “Wait for it” I thought, even as I heard the fleet commander’s words over comms — “cloaked ships remain cloaked”.

The roaming enemy fleet was small but potent: Ares heavy interceptor to pin down prey, Vexor cruiser for drone and fire support, and the Deimos heavy cruiser with its crushing beam weapons to lay down the hurt.  Only one piece was missing: the recon ship, a Falcon, weak on its own but a potent force multiplier.  I knew we could catch and crush the others, but the Falcon would run if its pilot thought the fight was going against them.  That Falcon was my prey.

The uncloaked enemies engaged the friendly fleet.  It was a fierce fight, the 3 invaders against a defending battlecruiser and battleship.  Deadly energies flashed through space, combat drones whipped through tight orbits, missiles crashed into shields and armor.  It was a fight the invaders could win, but only by playing their ace in the hole.

The enemy commander had to make a choice: sacrifice three ships in a losing battle, or throw his recon into the fray for what he must think was a winning edge.  When the Falcon flashed red on my sensor display, just 14 kilometers distant, I knew the foe had made their choice — now they would pay the price.

“Primary the Falcon — go go go” came the hoped for command from the Fleet Commander.  In a heartbeat, the trap was sprung: the remaining ships in our hastily assembled defence force decloaked and engaged.  Our 3 recon ships reached for the enemy Falcon with their electronic claws, holding it fast in their smothering grasp.  Along with its brethren, my Rapier “Nightblade” locked on almost instantly, its specialized propulsion jamming electronics freezing the enemy in place, preventing its escape.  From that moment its fate was sealed, and the battle won.

The aftermath: shattered ships, debris floating in space, damaged foes fleeing and pursued, congratulatory chatter on voice comms.  The warriors of Ushra’Khan had once again defended their space from foes bent on sowing confusion and fear.

I triggered the cloaking field, and my deadly Rapier resumed its silent vigil, watching for signs of intruders in the nearby systems.

Just another day at the office…