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And so we live

First time writting -_-, hope you enjoy =D, critisim encouraged

And so I awoke after a long nights slumber in my pod. Not having seen action for over a good month I was itching for a fight. The last thing i fought was a Megathron in my Brutix. What a one sided fight that was. After a quick diagnostics check my pod was in working order. All i had to do now is wait for my twin to arrive in my Griffin. I was rallying the troops taking them out on the hunt. Both of them have never tasted the adrenaline rush from killing an unsuspecting victim before. i sat impatiently in Oisio awaiting my allies and twin. Wolf was the first to arrive eager for battle in his Merlin. Zullo came shortly after snoozing away in his Kestral, the words "Autopilot disabled, Destination reached," jolting him awake. Last to arrive was my twin carrying my Griffin. So with his arrival we set of to the system over. Rendevous at the center station and thats where i got back into a ship. The feel of the metal around me felt good once again, Another quick diagnostics and checking what i had fit revealed all was green. While I was checking my twin arrived in system in his Heron and cloaked in a safe spot.

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My first solo

I was cruising through my home system getting used to my new ship. I can't believe I forgot about the station guns.

"Oh well, gotta learn somehow" I keep telling myself.

The system has been dead most of the night and I'm about to set my nav to the station and call it when I see a blip appear on my scanner. It's one I remember seeing earlier but was too busy tweaking my targetting computer to track it down. I do a quick scan and don't see any 'buddies' hiding in the system so I decide to go take a look.

"Hmmm, a Merlin."

I track him from cluster to cluster, looks like he's ratting.

My hands are shaking from the adrenaline rush. This is my first try at this with no corp backup.

I punch in the coordinates for the cluster's planet and scan each belt.

"Got him!"

He's sitting in a belt face to face with one of the local rats...I'm not sure he even saw me warp in behind him. I quickly throw the nose of my ship toward him and punch the MWD on full. Gotta close this distance fast.

My targetting computer screams as positive lock is established and I scramble his computer.

"No where to run now my friend"

I feel the slight shudder of my ship as my weapons toss their deadly payload toward him. Explosions all around him as his shields and armor melt away. It all happens much faster than I expected as the void of space explodes in a brilliant light in front of me. I lock down the pod and send the pilot on a quick trip back to the cloning facility.

Quickly securing the leftovers from the wreck, I zip off to a safespot to wait out the timer...those station guns are cruel mistresses.

I constantly watch my scanner for 'friends' to jump in and start hunting me. My heartrate finally slowing down I realize in my haste I had forgotten to turn on my defenses! 'Good thing he went down quick or I would've looked REALLY stupid' I think to myself.

A comm flickers from my CEO:


I smile to myself, "So this is it...this is what I've been searching for..."

I hear my warp drives powering up as I turn toward home...


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Hunt: To Be, or Not To Be.

I have never agreed too much with Gallente ship design, always thought it to be too 'pretty'. The soft lines, a smooth bubbly forms... Put that Engineering effort into making a better Auto Cannon I say. But there is just something about the way that Thorax felt, that rush of power flowing in when all systems came online. I haven’t felt this way since my first Hurricane. Even the tight, swept back form of this vessel appealed to me. I continue to fantasize the killing potential in this craft until the proximity alerts go off.
Single Target in-bound. I had dropped out of warp less than fifteen seconds ago and already a target! Rifter class frigate. Thought spans in all directions, as my ship fires all engines, leans into a tight orbit, slips into partial warp with the Micro Warp Drive, and the concentration shifts to locking the target. All modules stand ready as my sensors pinpoint their target. I can feel my mouth water, I have to force I swallow.
Lock. A brief moment everything dims as all modules light off. Warp Scrambler, Statis Webifier, and Four Nosferatu modules. Almost as quickly, energy surges back in to the capacitors, bleeding the target dry.
The Drones, already armed, spill from their hiding place, blazing towards the target. Their first combined volley tears away the Rifter shields. No big accomplishment there, but when the second and third sear and char their way through the Rifter’s armor and into his hull I giggle. I command a ceasefire to the drones.
I hail my target. Two Hundred Thousand ISK. Short and sweet. I'm nervous at this point, I'd rather not become someone else's kill. This is taking too long. I start counting off over comms.
... A reply. "1 second"
One Decimal Five.
One and One Third.
One Decimal One.
Another message, begging "I'm a new pilot"
Decimal Nine.
Decimal Five.
The drones eagerly jump to life. Their first volley ignore what little shield recharge had occurred in the interval. Pieces of the Rifter go spewing in all direction as that one lucky round ruptures the Fusion Core.
The Escape Pod flies past my Thorax, already initiated into Warp. That's fine. There will be others.
I hit Warp again; I spent too long in that belt. Next time I'll know not to wait so long. After a few belts my mind wanders back to the plasma cloud burning freely from my last target. What beauty is to be found in destruction!
Proximity alert! My warp drive had already aligned to the next belt. Scanners already cleared their cache. What was that?
I stop in this belt and fire up the MWD. I want some distance between me and the opponent. Local comms start to chatter. I'm being hunted! The thrill sparks again. A whole new rush, not of the kill, but of the chase.
I let my eagerness gets the best of me. I allow my position to slip over comms, and within seconds a Rupture class cruiser warps in. With over 243km between us, I realize that I am still in control of this fight. Just then, some Angel Militia Pirate's warp in to investigate. My opponent quickly dispatches them. In fact, so quick that my surprise attack doesn't succeed. I couldn't align that fast.
The same dance begins. Lock. All systems initiate. Drones released. I hear the larger Auto Cannons of my opponent penetrating my shielding, tearing into my armor. Enemy Drones sending their Lasers into my hull, separating steel from structure. I increase orbit and try firing some Smart Bombs that I had fitted to shake the drones, open distance to prevent Auto Cannon damage, but it was too late. Modules and main systems alike were shutting down. Damage controls had failed and most of the ship had de-pressurized. Now I watch from my escape Pod as my Fusion Core erupts. I chuckle, as the odd tingle the Pod has in its warp shudders through me, and I make a clean getaway back home.
Once at a safe distance I pull my attacker up on comms. I thank him, now I know what to be cautious for, I have learned. One more lesson, one more step towards my destiny.

I return to station and browse the markets for my next combat ship. I run a few simulations for Capacitor Efficiency, Shield and Armor Durability, and Weapon Damage Outputs.
But before I have a chance to make any purchases, other pilots from my corporation send me a fleet invite. We have a war target trying to make his way towards Rens.
I ponder a moment. Haste requires a ship already fitted, in hangar, and ready to fly. I put out the alert, scramble my Jaguar for immediate departure!
The Hunt Is On!

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Old Dog still learning New Tricks

Pator Tech. wasn't my first choice but then again, who ever gets their first choice in life? The day out from academy I used the last bit of isk I had (stolen) to buy a Reaper and a few fitting options. I set my NeoCom to monitor the "Recruitment" channel, where I would prove myself as the fiercest pirate in the galaxy and procure my fortunes and infamy.
I did meet up with a startup pirate corp, and went so far, far away to a system called "Jan" The galaxy was a lot bigger than I had imagined. Here I found out two things. One: T2 fittings and ships beat T1. And Two: I had no way to pay for or fly such things.
So my course was this- I make a fortune and pay for these things, and train constantly as hard as I could until I was the best! I invested in Learning Skills so I could train harder and faster than I supposed any other pilot could, and researched fitting schemes and money making ventures....
... I woke up. A year and a half later, there were foreign objects in the POD fluid, and I’m still aching from detox. I don't know where I am, no familiar stars are in view. I had been piloting the same ship class I had fantasized about, only it's scatted remains were in orbit with me around an unfamiliar moon. I rebooted my Navigation system and found that I was 44 jumps outside of any CONCORD presence. What I had been doing out here was still baffling me. I checked my comm systems, most of the data there was either encrypted or corrupted. A few sparse messages informed me that I had joined up with an alliance and then had been removed. My assets had been removed from my hangar and I was wanted. Infamy it seemed was not something I enjoyed. I'm not sure how I had escaped the same wrath the debris of my once proud ship had endured. That thought alone got my heart racing. Panic sobered me the rest of the way up and I stressed my ship systems in getting "home". I few close calls but thankfully my brain still knew how to fly this thing better than I ever remembered. I had dozens of "Books" downloaded that I cannot remember fully to this day, but I always seem to come up with the answer.
Lost and confused, I was accepted into a corporation to help with their industry concern. Oddly, I had also been trained in that too, although it bores me to no end.
Another year has passed. I have enjoyed the company of numerous pilots and been hired into a few corporations since. I finally have been accepted back into society and even get jobs from an agent or two from Brutor Tribe. I'm back in my homeland and it feels great...
...Until Yesterday.
The local channel fires up. A Pilot was upset that no one would "take his can" Producing such a challenge was not too smart, someone might take him up on it. I jump into my trusty Rifter. I open his can. Flagged for combat, his friends uncloak and I barely get my pod back into station. He laughs and informs me that if he had lost to a Rifter he would have quit flying.
Anger! Just like in those first long months. I have not felt this way in years. Only today, I have a generous account, the skill to fly ships of any race, and well, and the support of numerous other pilots.
I place a "Buy Order" on the markets for a Thorax. They have a deadly potential, and I have been researching other ships for more capabilities...

I will have my fleet, I will have my revenge.
Cleared for publication by: Ander

a new begining


As usual the warrior was awake almost before the proximity alarm on his advanced scout sounded. He did not awake like a normal person but like an animal instantly alert and ready for action. “REPORT BOY!” he called into the comms unit. A young and frightened voice replied, “Sir scans report 6 hostile battle ships incoming 2 jumps out”. “How many available pilots do we have in range?” he barked already pulling on combat headset and moving towards his command seat. The new pilot in a shaky voice replied “Sir we have only 3 battleships a dominix, your megathron and a raven but no support available apart from my scout”. The next words were spoken with so little emotion that the newly recruited pilot on the other end of the signal felt like he had just reported the weather.

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Re-birth - A new dawn -- CH.II


As I watched the cursor blinking mindlessly, I found myself wanting yet another nap. I can't believe this system is so dead. That's the last time I bother with the 'Murphy Boys'. They're useless. Always have been. I think it's about time I did what I always threaten them with.
I make a mental note to shoot them dead on the spot.

But in the meantime, I've got to find a new contact. This unreliable shit has got to go. I feel as usefull as a damn corporate miner. Everytime they...
The overview lights up. Adrenaline courses through my veins...

Concord? A single concord ship out here? ...

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Seeds of Darkness pt. II

Time. Too much is a bad thing. Time to think, time to doubt, time to regret. Since the day I left my old life behind I’ve had time to do all three. As I make the jumps from system to system, steadily heading away from the regular space-lanes deeper into unsafe regions, I’ve had plenty of time to question my resolve. From the day I was commissioned as a pod pilot my life has been one of duty, rigid discipline and service to my clan. Such habits are indeed hard to break. I find myself wondering if I am truly capable of turning my back on those principles I once held dear. Whether I am able to place myself outside the law and live the life of an outcast, preying on those weaker than myself. Hunting, killing. Murdering?

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Re-birth - A new dawn

Space. That's just what it is. Open. Nothing. Cold. Dark. Unforgiving in every way imaginable. I can remember a time as a child, hearing the story of some of the deep-space pilots that would eventually come stragling into our home sector.
Fabulous stories. Stories of grand adventures, and hair raising experiences that would keep you on the edge of your seat for it's entirety.

After joining the academy, I realised being a pilot was exactly what my life was missing...

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Seeds of Darkness

Once again I find myself waiting for the agent to acknowledge me as I wait in front of her desk. It seems as if I spend half my life standing in one office or another, listening to the hum of air purifiers and the tapping of fingers on a keyboard. Finally she looks up. “ Captain Torax, I am very disappointed in you” That’s it? My crew are dead, scattered though the void as my ship the Hurricane-class battle cruiser “Vengeance” was torn apart by unknown assailants while on a simple search and destroy mission. And all she can say is “Disappointed”?

Cleared for publication by: Freaky

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The path of War

Our corporation had declared war on our target merely two days prior and so far, our kill count and reputation had gone through the roof. Already with seven prior kills to our name, one being a Caracal, we had put the fear of God into our enemy. Now, every time we entered a target system, our victims fled to the safety of the nearest station and either logged off or waited until the 2 or 3 members of their corporation who had battleships were able to jump in system. We could only wonder as to why they continued to refuse our ransom. Cleared for publication by: Ander Rest of story moved to extended body by request. Continue reading "The path of War"

A new beginning pt4 (For the win)

A new beginning pt4
(For the win)

“Sir advanced scout reports that over 120 battleships and 30 support inbound to pp- 5 jumps out”. “Copy that” relied Harold from the cockpit of his covert ops ship. Almost without thought he checks his channel command and makes sure he has his overview array is set correctly and ready to be switched to another setting at his command. Commanding 200 ships mostly sniping battleships but with some heavy support the thought of the upcoming battle filled him with excitement, this was his first large fleet command and he felt more than ready.

Time to speak he thinks “Ok all sniping ships should have their own communication channel separate from the support also all sniper and support target callers turn on channel command please, scouts do the same”. As the fleet divides its self into separate comms channels the target callers check in and report ready as do the multiple scouts dotted around the system.

Using his channel command Harold speaks only to the scouts and target callers, the rest of the pilots in the fleet hear nothing, “Right guys I want this by the numbers, the snipers I want you to hit battleships only, set your guys optimal range for 160km, target call by the pre existing a-z wing format and for gods sake make sure your guys overviews are set correctly, support you will set optimal ranges for 0-30km and stay with the snipers, hit anything in range and keep your eyes peeled for interdictors, understood?” A chorus of yes sirs was the response from his junior officers. “Scouts after we have greeted them on the gate I will need you to get me jump in points at 160km and also a jump to 0 into the middle of their sniping ships at whatever POS they are going to hit, make sure the points are warpable from inside the pos they intend to attack as I will jump the fleet into it to load the grid” understood sir was once again the answer he received.

Sitting in his ship cloaked and safe 130km away from his own fleet and well over 280km from the hostile fleet. A hostile fleet that was right now trapped in a bubble on the in-gate to his system. Harold switches channels and listens to his target callers relay the instructions he gives over channel command to primary the occasional scorpion or other priority ships.

The new procedure was for each battleship wing to have 2 squads and the wing commander to use his overview to set primary targets by a pre designated alphabetic order. This way with 6 wings all with 20 battleships the fleet could kill 6 ships per call instead of the old way of having only one caller for the entire sniper fleet, which in Harold’s trainer’s opinion wasted a lot of firepower. Harold’s job as fleet commander was to oversee the full fleet operation in a cloaked ship and relay any instructions like to target a high-risk e-war ship or jump away to a safe spot using “channel command” or CC as it was called, a high security channel that only scouts and other officers like target callers TC's, squad commanders SC's and wing commanders WC's could hear. Listening to the support TC call another interdictor as primary just as Harold had told him to do over CC he smiled and realised that the idea his trainer, a famed FC in his own right and Harold himself had devised was so far a success.

Looking at the screen Harold notices the slight losses his fleet is taking are minor compared to those suffered by his adversaries but even so their support are now almost all nearing the edge of the bubble and with a hostile scout in the system his losses could get higher than he would like if they jump in amongst his untanked snipers so he orders a warp out and prepares for stage two.

The POS bubble shimmers as Harold’s fleet awaits the order to warp to the scout that is even now burning silently and invisible to a position within the optimal range of the hostile fleet. “Jump” Harold gives the order to the officer given the responsibility of warping the entire fleet to the designated point and the battle begins anew. This time though the time spent waiting for the hostiles was not wasted and primary targets vanish in a blaze of power as multiple strikes reduce all the e-war ships and interdictors to floating debris “they should not have brought those in until we had engaged, giving us time to see them and make a damn list was really daft” thought Harold.

After the e-war ships are destroyed the target callers go back to the alphabetical calling and work there way down the string of battleships. After a few minutes of violent flashes Harold notices that there is almost a wall of destroyed interceptors and assault frigates 10-20km away from his snipers proving that his choice of support target caller was a good one. As he sees the larger hostile support within 70km of his snipers Harold decides its time to finish the fight and asks if his support scout is in position. The scout gives his position and Harold gives the order over CC for all cruiser and battlecrusier support ships to prepare for warp.

The target caller confirms the ready order and the entire close range hard hitting support squad lands right in the middle of the hostile sniping fleet. Harold can only imagine the mayhem this has caused in the hostile communication channels as his close range damage dealers rip through untanked sniping ships. He watches as the hostile heavy support tries to turn and burn back to help their comrades but at 80-100km it is a hopeless effort. As the first hostile BS warps away to a safe spot Harold calls in the interdictors to bubble the enemy sniping ships. He notices that the losses he is taking are now virtually zero as the hostile sniping fleet tries to run and stops shooting or targeting his long-range ships. “Their falling apart its time for the kill” he thinks and calls for all sniping ships to target the heavy support.
The heavy support that was burning back to help their comrades folds under the might of so many sniping battleships and Harold gives the order to the sniping fleet to reacquire battleships and now the almost helpless snipers bubbled and torn apart by the close range high damage weapons of his heavy support and the merciless long range fittings of his sniping fleet finally succumb to blackness. As the number of hostiles thin out Harold orders all target callers to switch to the general war setting on their overviews witch shows all the types of hostile ships and call targets of opportunity to finishing moping up.

Blind panic sets in as the outer hatch on his ship opens, turning to confusion as light streams in and not the vacuum and cold of deep space. A familiar face leans in grinning from ear to ear “nice fight boy” says his long time mentor and commander. “Sir I don’t understand where I am what’s happening” all the answer he got was “follow me”.

Sitting with a large scotch in his hand Harold listens intently to his mentor “It’s a flight simulator with a bit of a difference you see, its totally holographic and we use drugs to take you from your quarters to the simulator then it takes over, you wake up talk to various people even eat and drink all to give you the illusion that nothing has changed also it can fully replicate any environment”. “Then over a period of about a month we put you in a position that gives you command of a fleet and see how you do" his mentor pauses and looks him in the eye "understand this Harold if you fail a test your out its all for the win”. At hearing this Harold felt numb it felt so real “So everything I have done over the last few weeks with you and others has been a total illusion designed to test my worthiness and skill as a fleet commander”. His commander replied “Six weeks actually Harold and its also about trust, sometimes we get a spy or a sell-out who gets paid a lot to lose a fight its rare but I have seen it before”.

Harold had to ask “What happens to them sir”. The coldness beneath the surface that distinguished this man Harold considered his idol showed fully as he stared into his eyes, “When I am running the simulation I follow the battle to the end and the door on his ship opens just like yours did, as I said earlier it can replicate any environment”. Harold understood the implication of those words, an explosive decompression, all pilots since the earliest days of space flight had almost certainly had nightmares about it. Your eyeballs freezing, any air in your lungs expanding to burst them like balloons the arteries and veins in your body bursting and the blood freezing as it pours out into the almost absolute zero cold of space. “So how did I do” smiled Harold sipping his scotch and leaning back in his chair. “Not bad for a level one fleet operation Harold not bad at all, level two to four the enemy actually have an imagination but stick to certain guide lines and tactics and level five you get to face an actual highly experienced fleet commander with the gloves off so to speak” his mentor replied with a smile that left Harold with no doubt what so ever who he would be facing for his level five test. Raising his glass and for the first time in his career being able to hold his commanders stare he smiles back raises his glass and says “ for the win”.


The use of channel command takes practice if your not used to it so if your gonna try it practice a lot or you will end up giving orders to either nobdy if your the FC, or to the FC if your a scout or target caller by pushing the wrong button on TS.

Although I use a variation of these tactics in eve the lag unfortunately does not permit the numbers I have divided my wings into in the story (Although it should *sobs :-(). Try 40-60 snipers per target caller that should give you enough non-lagged out ships per wing to kill their share.

And of course the tactics depend on the hostiles doing a good impression of a POS by sitting still and not having a plan or tactics of there own. But for any fledgling alliances out there or trainee fleet commanders id say the basics of large fleet ops are pretty well covered in this story and should give you a good base to develop your own variations.

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A new beginning pt3 (A more perfect ending)

A new beginning pt3

As he drifted off to sleep in his bunk inside the relatively safe outpost in the 0.0 system a familiar dream nudged at the edge of his consciousness. Twelve months, had it really been twelve months since they had moved out of the system zz-? It did not seem so to Harold, he remembered the exhaustion like it was yesterday. The constant fighting against a foe that had virtually unlimited resources and manpower.

It had started with those six ships; they were the vanguard for a fleet the size of witch still haunted his dreams. His then small sized alliance had fought of course, oh god how they had fought. Outnumbered in systems sometimes 10 or 20 to 1 even the enemies had sent out messages of respect even awe at the courage, ingenuity and skill of the pilots they faced. Even so it was not enough, the hostiles had come into his home systems with those 6 battleships confident that they could win against a force half its size. They were mistaken, in a hail of fire the ships that had been sent to test the skill of his alliance had been destroyed with consummate ease. But doing so had created a wave of fear in a region far from any allies. So far that only once had they managed to convince an old ally to aid them. Their ally had brought only one ship, if that is what it could be called.


Named after the beings that had come before the old Greek gods these mythical beings had supposedly lived in a time when their might had been unchallenged. It was a fitting name for such an awesome creation of destruction, a monster greater than any he had been told of as a youth. A monstrous child born from a mind that could only have had a single goal, ultimate domination.

As Harold drifted off to sleep the memory of that night came forth and as it always did....

A more perfect ending.

Two months of fighting, two months of maybe two hours of troubled sleep a day and it all came down to this. The newly formed alliance had fought like their name implied. Their pilots perhaps the most skilled he had ever known had fought against odds, that if Harold was honest, terrified him. And it all came down to this, a P O S a heavily defended, heavily armed safe spot in space near a moon had to be defended tonight or the alliance that had fought so very courageously would most likely fall.

The P O S had been put into what the fleet commanders had called “reinforced”. A state that occurs when it suffers considerable damage to its armour. To do this had cost the hostile forces enormously, no less than five dreadnoughts had been destroyed, and two carriers and so many battleships and other smaller types that Harold could hardly begin to calculate. And all this by an alliance with only one dread a few carriers and only one fifteenth the number of pilots. But still it had not been enough to even slow the onslaught from a coalition of more hostile corporations and alliances than he even bothered to count anymore.

The days in zz- were a pleasing diversion compared to the nights. Harold was a member of the wolf pack an elite group of pilots put together by his original commander. A fleet commander that had started at the lowest level in the alliance and learned earned and fought his way to be a respected leader. There were many like him now, including Harold. That had been honed and tempered by the constant combat they found themselves embroiled in.

Flying heavy assault cruisers, e-war, command ships and other fast moving top of the line and hi-tech fitted combat ships the wolf pack was the terror of the surrounding systems during the day. As their name implied they hunted in packs using stealth and guile to destroy much larger ships and then disappear. Harold had heard that on earth in the past the warriors took the ears of killed enemies and wore them on necklaces. This would have shocked him once but now he understood what it was like to look death in the face. To want the person who killed you to know that even as you die not small amount of his comrades have gone before you, by your hand. Most people would call this spite, after a moment’s thought Harold shrugged and agreed. He doubted the hostile forces enjoyed the wolf packs forays into the surrounding systems, there kill to loss ratio was outstanding, he calculated it at nearly 50 billion isk worth of kills compared to less than half a billion for the pack. And the modules looted from the burning ships the wolf pack left in its wake paid for even these losses, even made a profit. But if days were a pleasant dream around zz-, the night was a nightmare.

And now it was night, the night that in 1 hour the P O S would come out of reinforced and will be vulnerable. Allowing the enemy to destroy it and put up there own P O S would give them a safe point of space to stage their operations in a system that previously was wholly hostile to them. Now sitting in a battleship purely setup for long-range sniping fire Harold felt none of the nerves that had once plagued him and made him hesitant. The gate into the system had been “warp bubbled”, a huge mobile unit designed to prevent ships from warping out. They would have to “slow boat” out of the bubble before they could engage their warp drives. Yes they could still shoot and would most definitely outnumber the 40 battleships that had been put together by the alliance members. But Harold doubted or hoped (he was not sure which) that most of the hostile fleet was not setup to an optimum range of over two hundred kilometres. The order came over the comms to align and get up to speed towards the jump gate “there here” he thinks as his hands drift over the controls of his ship activating sensor boosters and tracking computers. The numbers in local begins to climb as hostile ships jump into the system. As the fleet reports all ready the commander uses his gang warp function to warp the entire fleet to a sniping spot over two hundred kilometres from the gate and into chaos.

With forty ships all focusing their fire as the fleet commander calls primary targets secondary and tertiary the targets are dead in seconds. His hands a blur following the instructions of the FC aligning back targeting ship after ship 2,4,8 ships down the call comes and he is in warp again to a safe spot still following orders from the FC that gang warped all 40 ships out. He comes out of warp realigns to the gate and sends his order confirmation signal as soon as he is up to speed. Boom in warp again back into the fray at a new snipe spot battleships are primary targets and even they fold easily to the combined might of the fatal fleet. Many times more the sequence repeats fire, turn, realign, warp, fire, turn, realign, warp over and over until it becomes by rote. A few losses on our side but the hostiles keep jumping more ships in, how many? 100, 200, 300 they are finding there range now and we cannot afford to take the losses. FC warps everybody to a fully charged P O S congratulates all on a good job a tells us to stand down for a while because its still 45 minutes until the P O S comes out. “Oh god” only fifteen minutes of fighting but it felt like hours, feeling mentally exhausted Harold stares at his control panel with dull emotionless eyes and thinks of nothing.

Another shout goes out from the wolf pack commander for a fast moving snipe squad that can harass the hostiles that are now camping the outpost where the alliances pilots clones are held in storage. “If we lose our ship and get killed in our escape pod the fight is over for the night we would not survive one second undocking into two hundred plus ships” thinks Harold. The FC reminds them of that and that to lose a ship and pod now is to lose a pilot from the fleet. He calls for ships that can hit at two hundred and twenty to two hundred and forty kilometres, which is almost the absolute max for any battleship in the galaxy. Twenty two volunteer including Harold and repeat the same format that they used on the gate only now they pop 1 ship and warp 1 ship and warp over and over. A man once said war is long bouts of tedium followed by moments of intense chaos it seems this commander had discovered a way to combine both. After almost 45 minutes of this repetitive slaying and running the hostiles must be fuming, no losses again for the alliance but the losses on the enemies side are mounting and it can be seen they are getting frustrated with the hit and run tactics. It is after all almost a 40 jump round trip to fetch another battleship Harold smiles to himself.

60 seconds 59 58.. The P O S is coming out and will be attacked by the hostiles dreads thirty of them thirty dreadnoughts enough to take out 5 P O S let alone just one. Range of guns set to 150km for higher damage, targeting over view set to dreadnoughts and I am ready, thinks Harold. Silence the P O S has been out for nearly 2 minutes the advanced scout have reported that the dreads have started firing and are taking it down. All this is reported to the FC more than once and he responds with silence. I check to see if his comms are down but there fine. One pilot asks the FC if he is ok, he responds that he is fine. “Trust” an indefinable thing that cannot be measured is now fully defined in the silence that comes over the comms unit. We all want to know why we are not attacking the dreads but our trust in these FC’S over the last few weeks has been earned a thousand times and more, Harold muses. Harold feels and can tell many others in the fleet find confidence in the silence, to many times have they seen almost insurmountable odds beaten by these dedicated and highly experienced fleet officers. “They have a plan I know it,” he thinks to himself.

The call comes in that the P O S is nearly destroyed and the FC calls for all battleships to align and get to speed. The P O S falls to the might of the incessant pounding of the dreadnoughts capital weapons and the fleet of battleship pilots warp into position and focus fire on the primary dread. A small support fleet stands by to web and warp scramble this behemoth as soon as he is susceptible to electronic warfare. A sudden flash heralds the warp in of the hostile fleet. Even with dreads only on his overview Harold can almost feel their animosity as over 200 hostile ships appear on his view screen. The fleet is enormous over 200 of them from electronic warfare ships to battleships and small fast moving frigates. All arrayed against the 40 battleships and 20-support fleet of his small alliance.

Suddenly he is in warp away and free from the grasping warp scramblers of the hostile fleet free from the rail guns and particle blasters “but free to what?” How can they even begin to fight such an over whelming force. “It must be over” he thinks. He hears the call over the comms that he never expected to hear. A single word that he considers will bring about his ultimate fate that word is “align”. With a loyalty that went beyond bravery the 60-man fleet prepared to throw themselves into the fray. Not one of them hesitated and not a one turned away and left the fleet although they were given the option. As one and for one they aligned for the now hostile filled space where once there was a heavily armed P O S. They all enter warp together. Harold comes out of warp feeling the euphoria that only comes from a man's acceptance of death and the knowledge that he will sell his life dearly.


Shock the only way to describe how he is feeling is shock. As he looks at the view screen in his ship. The area where the P O S was is now filled with ship wrecks all of them hostile and all of them burning. The dreads are still there though and almost in a daze he locks and targets the one that is called primary. He hears a gasp over the comms that comes from an amarr pilot he flies with in the wolf pack. The pilot mumbles over the comms something about moon four and continues on about something that sounds like a prayer to Harold.
Confused Harold switches his scanner to narrow view and aligns it to the moon. “Impossible” he thinks, “Nothing can be that big”. But his scan confirms it on his scan is a ship that dwarfs even the huge dreadnoughts. A titan, “avatar class”, a monster from the abyss would be a less rare sight. With one shot from its doomsday device the terrifying machine of destruction had destroyed all the ships in range that were battleships sized or smaller. As the titan jumps out of system Harold takes one last look at the size of it “awesome” he thinks.

What remains of the hostile support fleet warps in and is easily destroyed by the alliance fleet, a dread also fails to jump out and is ravaged by the now exultant fleet. The fight is brief and violent but with the numbers now almost even the superior tactics of the home fleet commanders comes through. Victory, Harold could hardly believe it, the loot from all the wrecks will be awesome, he thinks, hi tech modules that could be used or sold plus the amount of salvage from them would build quite a few rigs. And of course the fact that with these sorts of losses the enemy would not be back for a while, so he could finally get some sleep.

As sleep finally came to him in the new station he thought of how two weeks later his alliance had pulled out of zz-. The huge coalition of alliances had actually paid a massive sum to his alliance for the outpost and had demanded that part for none of his alliances pilots were to come into the area for three months. The Wolf pack FC had actually roared with laughter at this payment and provision, the first time Harold had heard him laugh at all. “If your going to lose a war Harold i doubt you will find a more perfect ending,” he said between gales of laughter”.


Although the characters and there thoughts are fictional the battle actually took place as described.


Id like to thank the people who sent me mails about the first two stories I wrote and I apologise for not writing a more exiting story as they asked in the mails they sent me.

The team work, dedication, ingenuity and skill shown by the comparatively few pilots in holding on for so long before losing the war and that system towers by far above any victory I have led or been part of previously or since in my 4-5 years in eve. And I wanted it to be at least in part included in Harold’s journey through the eve universe.

Cleared for publication by: Ander

a new begining pt2 (amatter of discapline)

A new beginning pt2


Harold remembered the day he finished reading his newest skill books on electronic warfare and walked to the corp hangars to look at the ship his commander had told him to fit. The technical specs on the electronic counter measure units and tracking disruptors was daunting but his commander had insisted Harold should learn them to a reasonable level. Harold knew better than to argue, this commander had led some of the most daring raids and overseen some of the largest fleet operations in the alliance.

Not only that but even now the leaders of a coalition of many huge alliances had pulled this amazingly experienced commander into a secure channel to ask his advise on how to combat an enemy with almost 4 times there numbers and five times the resources. “I hope they don’t faf about and waste his time,” thought Harold who had flown with him for nearly 6 months now and was more than familiar with his commander’s lack of patience when it came down to leadership decisions.

The man on more than one occasion had taken command of the entire alliances fleet if the original FC had been disabled, destroyed or simply felt out of his depth with a battle. His voice was as well known as his temper when it came down to combat and although almost all of the leaders of the alliances member corporations had at one time or another been involved in heated arguments with this man, there was not one of them or many other ordinary pilots who did not owe there lives and a huge number of saved ships to his skill, courage and daring when it came to combat.

“It’s a bit thin sir” Harold replied to his commander’s question about his newest ship. A black bird, a ship solely designed for electronic warfare and not to take or really dish out damage. “Its not for tanking a dread Harold its designed for reducing a hostile fleets ability to cause damage giving a smaller fleet the ability to destroy a larger force or at least not take losses”. “You’re a member of the alliances wolf pack now remember,” said his commander.

The “WOLF PACK” an elite group of pilots personally selected by the commander to fly into hostile areas and kill anything and anybody who they can find. Their record spoke for its self, with some times as few as 3 ships they would gladly jump into hostile systems with over 20 or more potential targets, hunt them down and destroy as many as possible. It was a high stress job that few were ever invited to join and Harold was shocked when his commander asked him to join them over pilots with vastly more skills than he had. “You’ve got nothing to unlearn lad” was the reply he got when he questioned his invitation”. Unsure what his commander meant Harold just nodded and felt awed to be part of what was fast becoming legend in the alliance. He wondered what his first battle with these guys would be like.

A matter of discipline

40 jumps, 40 jumps from home and over 50 hostile ships in his local scanner. A station that they couldn’t dock in, a heavily armed structure at every moon and a large mobile warp bubble on every gate. “We are so screwed,” thought Harold as he jumped to another safe spot with his fleet of 8 ships all tech 2 or e-war Cruisers. Checking his scanner he sees hostile probes, there scans reaching out to give a location on his small group of ships.

The success of this particular hunt was even now resounding around the alliance forum and communications channels. 88 kills over a 12 hour period by 8 ships an achievement that even the veteran pilots of the alliance were stunned to a hear, these kills put the commanders personal total up to 127 over 3 days. Not that anybody apart from the alliance leader had dared to join the wolf packs channel to congratulate them since an over enthusiastic member had jumped into channel just as they were engaged in a battle with 4 battleships and 5 support. The blistering response from the wolf pack commander to this verbal intrusion into an active combat situation was terrifying and brutally short, and after the battle had been won the FC had demanded that the channel that they were in was password protected to stop another interruption.

“FC” came the call over the comms unit from the alliance leader, who although by far out ranked the commander in the alliance was still an old school pilot and had perfect comms etiquette”. “Go” came the response. “FC I can have a fleet formed in 5 minutes and be with you in under an hour how’s your situation”. The commander reported about the bubbles on gates the fact that interdictors had been seen by their cloaked scout jumping out of both gates in the system and that their was at least 15 ships of mixed types on each gate and of course that they were in the middle of a utterly hostile constellation.

As this was reported Harold’s breathing became more relaxed “There coming” he thought, but the words he heard next almost stopped his heart. “Don’t bother we’ve finished annoying these guys and id say another 20 minutes and they will be primed for our egress”. Laughing with amusement and not a little awe the alliance leader replies “I’ve known you for to long to dispute you FC id like to stay in channel to record this and listen in if that’s ok, good hunting I am now clearing comms. “Copy that” was all the reply he got.

The commander did not bother to tell his squad to prepare as far as he was concerned if they were not ready to follow orders they would not be here in the first place he just began.
The orders came as quick, clear and as without fear as Harold had come to expect from what seemed to him a creature of combat knowledge and focus packed into a skin wrapper. “Scout I want a report on their sniping battleships on both gates I want their ranges from the gates and how the support is arrayed”. Ok the rest of you its going to take time to get our pieces in place so just keep bouncing between safe spots for now” came the order to the rest of the fleet.

The scouts report comes in a good 5 or 10 minutes later “FC there is on the AA gate 2 battleships at sniper range 160km from the gate 4 battle cruisers and 3 hac’s or T1 cruisers on the bubble and 5 interceptors or assault ships on the gate inside the bubble.
“Ok good and the BB gate”. "FC a similar setup but with 1 less battle cruiser and 6 small tacklers and only one sniper at range 160km I have full details if you wish sir”. “Just how many are actually sitting on the gate and ship types please scout”. “FC 5 of the six are on the gate all small tacklers”.

“Ok scout I need you to get me a warp in point on one of the battleships that are on the AA gate I want the point to drop us out behind him towards the BB gate at about 40 km” came the call that sent a thrill of electricity up Harold’s spine. “What is he planning now” Harold thought “its check mate and he is thinking of going on the offensive we just cannot win, I’ve seen to much to know that we just do not have the fire power to beat this many ships we should go for a gate and hope some of us make it”. These thoughts came to Harold without fear or anger towards his commander. He had seen to many victories and to much death to be afraid of it now. These were just the musings of a combat pilot with the experience to understand the odds.

“Sir I have a warp in point on the tempest” came the call. “Ok scout now I want you to book mark it and head to the BB gate I want you to bookmark a spot 200km away from the BB gate is that clear”. “Yes sir” came the immediate but slightly confused response over the comms.

“Ok now listen up under the circumstances and because of the very fact that you are here means I do not consider you a security risk I am on this occasion going to tell you the plan”. “ I am doing this because speed is of the essence and knowing and doing is faster than being told and then doing”.

“We will be jumping on top of the sniper at a range of 40 km and will lock him an fire, we will warp in from behind so his support who warp to him will be at least 40 km away from us” he paused to let this sink in. “As you can see the exit gates in this system are aligned so I want all ships to turn and burn with mwd towards the BB gate as soon as you drop out of warp”. “Scout your job is as usual essential so listen up, as I gang warp us to the sniper position I want you to warp to your 200km spot on the BB gate and report “on the hostiles movement”. “Yes sir” came the reply. “After that I will be giving orders be quick or die is the order of the day people lets get ready”.

Adrenaline rushing through his veins Harold aligns his ship and gets it up to speed. The commander gang warps the entire fleet to the scout who is 40 km off the hostile sniper and gives the command “ok scout warp to the 200km spot of the BB gate NOW!!” Even now the commanders voice is filled with the cold passion that Harold had heard many times before. “I want a report when you drop out of warp on what those ships are doing also align towards the gate and get up to speed ready to warp to it”.

Harold and the rest of the fleet came out of warp at exactly 42km from the tempest as promised and he immediately turns his ship around, locks the tempest, turns on his ECM units and activates his micro warp drive. He could only imagine the orders flying around the hostile fleet as he watches the interceptors and ac’s burn out of the bubble and the slower more deadly battle cruisers and cruisers turn and align towards the tempest in preparation to warp. Over the channel came the report from the scout
“ Sir the tacklers are burning out of the AA bubble and the rest are turning to warp”.
“Copy that scout” came a calm reply followed by “everybody prepare to warp to the AA gate at jump range including you scout”. As the first of the hostile ships came out of warp now a good 55km away from Harold’s ship the commander waits for what seems like an eternity Harold’s heart again pounding as the interceptors get closer and the battle cruisers and other support drop our of warp to close for his comfort. Finally the command is given and Harold’s ship seems to explode into warp as he hits the controls.

The commander’s voice seems to come out of thin air and says “Ok guys set your overview to interdictors and tacklers only and as you hit that bubble I want you all to mwd to the gate and jump on contact. As Harold came out of warp he saw his screen filled with the shimmer of the warp bubble, he immediately hit his mwd and burned towards the gate. Checking his overview he noticed that it was empty of hostiles “They all warped in to kill us” he thought and remembered the commanders words to the alliance leader about annoying the enemy and getting them “primed for our egress”. As the fleet jumps out of the system Harold checks his overview and sees 2 ships within weapon range inside the bubble the interdictor has dropped at that very instant the commander calls for a mwd burn towards the out gate and calls the interdictor primary. Harold felt no sympathy for the 2 pilots as there ships are destroyed in seconds although he and his squad have to burn out of the bubble the interdictor dropped. Even as the FC gang warps them to the gate and orders the scout to burn ahead there was to be no sign of pursuit on Harold’s local scanner. “Probably glad to be rid of us he thought” as he considered the mayhem they had caused in that last and surrounding systems.

“Ok fleet set destination for home scout burn ahead keep sharp for targets of opportunity” came the call after it was ascertained that they were not being followed. “He almost sounds disappointed “ thought Harold and then he considered the buzz he had been feeling and felt ever time he flew with this commander “I never knew combat could be like this just how much is there to learn”. As they neared there home systems the pilots in the local scan window were no longer coloured hostile but the blue of friendly pilots. But even now the commander coldly ignored the greetings in local, and even told those who used the open channel to stop it immediately, even though the systems were empty of any threat, and to use the alliance channel instead considering local chatter “a bad habit to get into”.

Docking in there outpost deep into 0.0 space the FC personally congratulates each member pointing out that if it had been him chasing and camping a system that had any ship left their positions on the gates without orders they would have been popped and sent to a clone vat by him personally. “It’s a matter of discipline” were his final words as he left the channel.

As Harold joined the alliance chat channel in voice comm.’s he was inundated by people congratulating him and speaking to him in voices tinged with awe. As he hits his comms button to try to speak and answer over the clamour of questions about who he is and where he was from, the normally chaotic channel goes deathly silent as the all in it await for their fledgling hero to speak. “Well he says id just finished 2 years of guard duty with a mining corp………………….


I did take once again a bit of artistic licence with the thoughts of the members involved and obviously used flowery language to describe events and the personalities of those involved.

But as far as my tactics for escaping the hostile system and the amount of kills we got that day, both are factual.

Cleared for publication by: Ander

a new begining


As usual the warrior was awake almost before the proximity alarm on his advanced scout sounded. He did not awake like a normal person but like an animal instantly alert and ready for action. “REPORT BOY!” he called into the comms unit. A young and frightened voice replied, “Sir scans report 6 hostile battle ships incoming 2 jumps out”. “How many available pilots do we have in range?” he barked already pulling on combat headset and moving towards his command seat. The new pilot in a shaky voice replied “Sir we have only 3 battleships a dominix, your megathron and a raven but no support available apart from my scout”. The next words were spoken with so little emotion that the newly recruited pilot on the other end of the signal felt like he had just reported the weather.


(“PREPARE”) “FC I have the hostiles on scan there are 4 megathrons, a tempest and a raven”. The warriors mind was like a perfect filing system of combat experience and his response was virtually instantaneous “ok people fit heavy tank kinetic and thermal, I want a 20km warp scramble point on you all, twin reps and domi I want you fitted for nos”. After less than a minute all three ships reported ready. With the same lack of emotion the voice on the comms said one word.


(“LAUNCH”) “Ok boy I want a report on these ships movement especially the raven and the tempest”. “There movement Sir?” came a confused answer over the commander’s headset. The response was spoken quietly but with passion “YES THERE MOVMENT!!!!. ARE THEY GANG WARPING BETWEEN GATES, ARE THEY STOPPING TO SCAN THE SYSTEMS, I WANT THAT REPORT BOY USE THAT RAVENS SCANNERS AND DO YOUR JOB!!” This was the first time the fledgling had seen any sort of emotion from his commander and it shook him in its intensity. “Sir they are not gang warping and it seems the raven pilot is less skilled than others and is warping considerably slower that the rest” The smile on the commanders face was terrifying to behold as he gave the command “ok people get to the short warpin point to the ingate. The boy heard the emotion building in the commander’s voice but even now as they all came out of warp off grid near the gate his voice was not raised in the least. He said simply.


(“ALIGN”) “Sir they are jumping into system” the boyish raven pilot reported. “Good I want notification as soon as they uncloak for warp”. “Yes sir” he replied his heart pounding and breath coming in gasps he switched his view to his arazu pilots view screen that was cloaked 30 km off the gate. “Calm down boy I guarantee that if you screw this up you will not live to regret it”. There was a grunt of amusement from the domi pilot witch for some reason the boy found to relax him. “SIR THEY ARE UNCLOAKING” he howled over the comms channel. There was a pause of a few heart beats then “Ok boy I want a tackle on that raven immediately” and in flat, quiet but unmistakably passionate voice came the call.


(“WARP”) The warp tunnel seemed unusually peaceful as he watched the photons he was passing by stretch and distort. The boom that typically occurred as he entered warp seemed like a pale imitation to his pounding heart. For a split second he was hypnotised by the thoughts running through his head. Then the panic set in OMFG THE TACKLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!. He switched to his cloaker in less than a second his fear forgotten in the urgency to do as he was commanded. The cloak was disengaged in a nano second as his hands flew over the sensor boosters, targeting the unsuspecting raven. As his ship informed him that he had target lock he engaged both of his newly trained tecII warp disruptors and sets his orbit. “Sir I have 2 points on him” he howled, his fear evaporating in the face of his success. “Ok boy and the others?” came the reply that froze his blood as he realised he was probably about to be called primary by 6 battleships and he was in a cruiser. He looks up from his modules and before him was the most terrifying sight he has ever beheld 6 huge battle ships loomed out of the darkness and a single thought runs through his mind “OH GOD”. Then they were all gone, well almost all, the raven was not in sight but it was still on his overview. Excitement replaces fear as he reports shouting in his joy “SIR THE OTHERS SIR THERE GONE HES ALONE”. The reply was instantaneous “I can see that boy” and as he switches his ships viewer to his raven his actions pre-empt the command he knows is coming. Once again the quietly intense voice comes over the comms channel. “The raven is primary”


(“ENGAGE”) As his missiles roared towards the target the boy was thinking of an old earth movie that had written on the cover “in space no one can hear you scream”. He smiled as he realised the movie he so enjoyed was obviously before the invention of particle blasters and the particle rockets that propelled his missiles. This type of science produced a vibration that although was not sound, did vibrate at a frequency the human ear could detect. “Ok pour it on boy I want this ship down before his friends get back” came a voice over the comms that sounded almost hungry. Watching as the enemy ravens shields collapsed and his armour became scarred, holed and finally after what seemed like only a few breaths the ship seemed to explode light and implode matter leaving a trail of frozen oxygen molecules and fried interface consoles. “We did it sir the rav….”

BOOM!!!!!! The broadside from the megathrons blaster cannons rocked the ship badly. Thrown from his command chair the pilot struggled back into his seat and activated his tanking modules. “SIR IM PRIMARY!!!!!!!!!!!!!” he screamed into his communication unit. “Good for you boy do not forget to run your reppers and your hardeners” came the dryly-sarcastic reply. “The primary has been signalled on your over view the tempest has warped in at 60km so were going to pop the mega’s lock target and”.


(“FIRE”) A blur of noise, light, sound and vibration was his world. The secondary and tertiary targets were called and he locked them and scrammed the mega he was designated to stop warping almost without thought. “OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD!” he was tanked to the eyeballs for thermal and kinetic but 4 mega's and a tempest “OH GOD” his tank was breaking. FLASH!!!! The primary mega disintegrated in a burst of light. “Boy your getting pwned get your damn damps on that damn tempest ffs” came the commander’s voice over the comms. “DAMPS? DAMPS?” he tried to think his way out of the confusion the thought of his impending death had left him in “DAMPS!!!!!!” Almost in slow motion he switches his view to the arazu targets the tempest and drops 3 phased muon disruptors on it. Resetting his orbit he immediately switches back to his raven. “ARMOUR DAMAGE, LOW CAP, SHIELDS GONE”. His combat training kicks in as he looks at his booster “just reloaded!!” Shield reppers still running. “Come on baby i know its 3 mega’s but your fitted for em”. Short breaths as the booster's rep a bit of his shield and stops more armour damage and the now primary mega goes into structure. 10 seconds later it explodes EXULTATION suffuses his being as he realises that he is winning.


(“POINTS!!), I WANT POINTS ON THOSE MEGA’S. BOY YOUR POINTS GO ON THE SECONDARY BUT FIRE ON THE PRIMARY ALSO I WANT YOUR CLOAKER WARP SCRAMING THE TEMPEST” came the shout over the comms. “Yes sir” came the reply his voice no longer filled with apprehension or fear, just adrenalin and the confidence that comes from passing through true fear. Hands flying over the controls of both ships he disrupts the warp drive of the secondary ship fires on the second and switches his view to his arazu. “55km off the target 43km scram range”. The primary mega falls to the firepower of 13T2 heavy drones and the firepower from a raven and the ion blasters from a cousin in design if not in intention. In the wake of the explosion the tempest seems to elongate and disappear as it goes into warp. “BOY!?” comes a query over the comms channel. “Sorry sir I was just outside scram range”. “Ok let’s finish off this last ship and collect our loot”. The boy watches as the final ship easily folds under the relentless pounding of the 3 combat vessels.


(“HOME”), “leave the cap charges if they take up to much room align for home when you’re full”. The voice was back to its emotionless tone’ almost bringing the high the boy was feeling to a stop as he filled both his cargo holds with valuable modules that only seconds ago were set to kill him. As he was gang warped to the station the enormity of the experience dawned on him. “I’ve fought, I’ve killed”. 6 battleships against 3 and we won.
These were not, as the pilots in the mining corp defence force he had been in called “noobs”. These were 2-3 yr old combat pilots with 0.0 sector experience and a few thousand kills each under their belts. Had there been only 3 battleships and a scout available and these guys jumped into the old low sec mining system he was assigned to protect with 6 battleships the whole corp would have docked until they had gone. But here they were taken out with no losses. Ok not with total ease but how much easier would it have been if he had damped the tempest.
“A bit” he thought. Laughing out loud as he realised that you did live and learn.


“Sir it was amazing I never thought combat could be like that. I have spent the last 2 years guarding miners and running from anything that even looks like a even fight let alone being out numbered”. The commanders reply was quite predictable “ what do you expect from a bunch of care bear roid raiders boy”. “Sir my name is Harold you said id stop being called boy if I survived my first engagement. “ I do seem to remember saying that”. Yes Sir” he replied smiling like the youngster he was. “Ok kid congratulations on your promotion if your alive in a month remind me and I’ll give you another” The commander said smiling for the first time since they had met. He did not argue as it had just dawned on him how much he had to learn about his new career.

The events, tactics and numbers involved were totally accurate including the game age of all players concerned and the victory was one I was particularly proud of.

Although I hope you will forgive me for taking poetic licence with the characters there thoughts and what was actually said and of course thought during the combat.

Cleared for publication by: Ander

The Red Fist

Today’s the day
Alyk shakily rose from his bed, his feat shuffling along the dust lined floor of his dark room.
Today’s the day we shape the future
He looked through tired eyes at his cramped room with his left-wing political propaganda covering every inch of grotty wall. He had only one thing left now for him, the one thing that had kept him going through his miserable run down shit-heap of a life. But at least after this day he could say he did something, he really had an impact on the shape of things to come. He hesitated at the exit of his room, staring down with a tearful eye at his uniform with the tiny Red Fist emblazoned on the jacket proving his loyalty.
Today’s the day of the revolution

"There I've told you everything I know, you fascist basta....."
The bloodied Red Fist operative spluttered his last few words at the guards before they finally decided he was useless and ended his life under their heavy boots. A small exhalation of air marked the amusement of one of the senior guards as he shrugged off the stare of a disgusted civilian.
"Where are your comrades now?" exclaimed the guard as he spat on the fleshy pulp beneath him.

Running the last few tests of his ships systems, Alyk admired the sleek beauty of his Thorax using the camera drones around his ship. Finally, checking his 250mm Carbide Railguns were loaded, he began the undocking procedures. He decided to take the opportunity to contact his comrades to confirm the system for the meet.
NY-154, only 4 jumps from here, excellent.
As he approached the final jump gate he started to pick up muffled chatter from the Red Fist ships that were already at the meeting point. Most of it was incomprehensible, but the odd keyword gave enough information for Alyk to build up a good idea of what was happening.
“…tipped off……stop sending……get the cap……is lost, abandon……glory to the revolu……”
Alyk’s heart was full of fear and adrenaline as he willed his ship into the final warp that would take him to the meet. It seemed to take for ever for his ship to finally finish the journey and decelerate from the warp, and when he finally reached his destination he let out a silent scream causing bubbles to ripple through the ectoplasm inside his pod.

As soon as his ship came out of warp he was confronted with what seemed to be a debris field. A huge chunk of hull from a Megathron battleship with the Red Fist insignia emblazoned on the side drifted less than 50 metres from his ship before being torn apart by Concord railgun fire tearing through the final hopes and dreams of the Red Fist revolution and Alyk’s only hold on sanity. Filled with rage Alyk targeted the nearest Concord ship to him and opened fire with everythinghe had. Salvo after salvo pounded at the shields of the Concord Celestis-class cruiser. Before long he had taken the Celestis’ shields down and blew it to pieces, setting his sights on a Concord Incursus, but he was running out of time and the other Concord ships were closing in.

Alyk’s last words were “Glory to the Red Fist revolution!”, which he screamed out as eight Concord Dominix-class battleships locked onto him and fired off their massive weapons, and all he heard before his ship was utterly destroyed were the words

Cleared for publication by: Ander