What's in a name?

The Orca. More commonly known as the 'Killer Whale.' It's a predator, a hunter of sea mammals. Although it's sleek complexity and docile appearance may give you a sense of harmlessness, due to it's relative the dolphin, your mind will quickly change when it's teeth are turned on you. But what's in a name? The words "predator," "hunter," "killer," and "fear" bear to mind when you hear 'Orca', but in the world of Eve, the name suggests no less than an ironic title. The Orca, seconded only to the Rorqual, is a well coveted family member of the mining industry; a teacher, a sage and mentor amongst the mining field. With the extensive knowledge and experience in mining operations, an Orca pilot will prove invaluable to a mining fleet with massive enhancements to the lasers that bore down into barren rock, reducing the asteroid to dust in a matter of minutes. A well trained Orca pilot will guarantee a profitable day to the happy miners. While the Orca is amongst the top most coveted ships for miners, it's also high up on the pyramid of coveted kills for a pirate. But unlike the infamous Orca whale, this Industrial will raise an eyebrow upon hearing the name. The Orca has no means of defense, aside from a small drone bay for such a mammoth of a ship, and should not be left unattended in hostile environments. Sunday March 1, approximately 00:00 Eve time. System - Mod: Proceeding my methodic searches through the low-sec chain, I felt my mind drifting with a heaviness that could only be described as weariness on the verge of boredom from the lack of activity in this region of low security systems. Even the smallest of frigates that would pass me by without a pension of my mind's interests, started to appear as bread and water to a starving man exhausted from the heat and broken from the endless barrage of cruel mirages of the Desert's fury, which in the end, proved nothing short of despair. Before I managed to inform my alliance mates that I'll be turning it in for the night, a curious opportunity arose that I could not refuse; "There's an Orca and a hulk in Gasavak. Get ready." With a wry smile on my face, I pointed the tail of the ship towards the heaviness that trailed behind in the fires of my micro-warp drive as I sped back to the gate. Maybe this night will prove to be fruitful after all. "I'm on my way," I informed him. "What ship are you bringing?" "Deimos." As I was rushing to Menri, I thought about how much people take the Deimos for granted. With near battleship-sized dps, and the agility and signature radius of a cruiser accompanied by remarkable armor resistances, the Deimos sits at #1 for highest dps among HACs. If properly fitted and piloted, the Deimos will render any ship it gets a beat on to shreds in a manner of seconds. With my squire pg implant, I smiled happily at my passively buffer tanked HAC, and wondered what would break through the 10k armor in time before the 800+dps tore through their hull. I gratefully accepted the fleet invite as it appeared on my screen, making sure not to accept it before jumping into a gate, seeing as the fleet formation interferes with your ability to use the stargates. Added to our ranks, we had a Pilgrim, Myrmidon, Rupture, Ishkur and a Rifter, all waiting at the Gasavak gate. "Victus, jump in immediately and get to the planet V area. Find the belt they're at." "Jumping in now," I complied. I engaged in warp, and took off to the planet over 30 A.U. away, calming my nerves and focusing my attention on the task at hand. Anxiousness would not interfere with my performance. Not on a chance at a kill like this. The entrancing feeling of nostalgia from battles past seeped into my veins. I would enjoy this. As a battle-hardened veteran of many wars, victories and defeats past, I still could not help the feeling of elation at the thought of an Orca kill. Maybe it was the thrill of a defenseless behemoth at the mercy of a ship of seemingly insignificant size; or perhaps the promise of revenge that offers a possible wardec from this kill to ensure more targets, or simply the fact that I was tired of finding insignificant ships to turn the guns to caused me to feel particularly...happy...that this opportunity arose. I was reminded of the pirates who sailed under the Black flag, a symbol of sure destruction to the merchants and travelers of old. The menace of the seas, outcasts of society, a race looked down on, mercilessly killing others for their own survival, satisfaction to the boredom that plagued them, those countless months at sea, pleasure to the blood-lust that feeds the demons within. They were Pirates. Though I do not crave bloodshed, I share the sadistic pleasure at the loss of a valued possession of those who careless wandered into my territory. "He's not at any of the belts. Could it be a POS?" I inquired. "There aren't any in this system," came the reply. "They must have warped off to a safespot." Why wouldn't they? My security status bears witness to the acts of hostility, and is a testimony assuring that I won't let Opportunity slip past the door without first greeting it. "Clear the system, I'm going to fit probes on here," came the order. Sitting at a safespot off the Gasavak gate, in case they decided to poke in to see if there were hostile gangs, my anticipation ate at my nerves. I dreaded the thought of this opportunity slipping away. But shortly enough, my alliance mate was ready to go, and was in system probing him down. "Damn, I can't get them with probes. They're withing 5 A.U. but the 5 A.U. probe isn't picking them up." If a 5 A.U. probe couldn't pick up a signature as massive as the Orca's, then that means only one thing. They were hidden in a gravimetric site. "They're at a gravimetric site," I said, impatient to get this resolved quickly. "I don't have my anathema here with me. it will take me a long time to find them." Luck was on our side though. My alt was only a few short jumps from the system, so I rushed to log my alt on. I was lucky enough to have been fitted with the correct probes already, and quickly proceeded to the target system. To our fortune, they were still there. They seem pretty confident in their site, I thought to myself. It took some time to strategically plot the placements of the probes to overlap the scan ranges, but with credit to either fortune of blindness, or arrogance of their pride, they did not leave the system. They were really getting cocky now. Either that, or this is going to be an incredibly difficult site to find. The latter proved true. I spent what seemed like ruthless hours scanning the system. 'No signatures detected' became the taunt from the ominous figure of a raven "perched above my chamber door." Half an hour, 45 minutes, a hour, an hour and a half, coming on 2 hours now and they still haven't left, yet they noticed the probes. This intensified my will to find them even more. But, luck was only with us for so long. The orca pilot had warped out. We thought it over, but I decided to continue probing out the site, in the event of his return. Why wouldn't he come back? He seemed so proud of finding that site, that he would sit there all day in it without a care in the world. I was starting to see why. But lady luck came knocking at our door again, as I finally found the gravimetric site. I warped in to discover a massive field of different kinds of Gneiss spread all across the screen. Traces of their presence could be seen by the frigate wrecks among the site. I got the bookmark, as did my alliance mate, and we left system to wait for his return. We sent one of our fleet members to go to the high sec system we thought him to be in. Sure enough he was there. Images and scenes of the destruction of this ill omen raced through all of our minds. Revenge for the hours of annoyance and silent antagonizing would not go unavenged. We will destroy the Orca tonight. With determination fiercely coursing in our blood, the lucky numbers of chance rolled in our favor yet again. The Orca undocks, and heads back to Gasavak. My alliance mate is back in the system in the hidden belt, just waiting to spring the trap. We're all fitted with scramblers to ensure that he does not enter warp. The pilgrim at the site is equipped with double scrams, in case the Orca is stabbed. The Orca arrives, and the Pilgrim moves in. I'm sitting on the gate with the other fleet, just ready to jump in and set the guns loose. "I'm 25km away." 20 15 10 8km 4km "Pointed! Jump in and warp to me now! Primary is the Orca." We all jump, the anxiousness flaring up almost uncontrollably now. Gone was the focus and concentration, replaced by only 1 desire: Kill. I exit warp, and immediately lock target with the Orca. Weapons already hot, I bore into his shields as if I were a lion feasting on it's prey. His shields drop in a matter of a few seconds. I notice my guns are doing 1.5k damage every volley. And the volleys come quite frequently thanks to my cybernetic hardwiring and vast knowledge of the rapid firing mechanics of gunnery. His shields were down before we knew it. Unbelievable, I thought. I thought a large ship would hold longer than that. His armor was almost nonexistent. I don't even think it stopped in armor before structure was already taking damage. "He's in structure. He has a lot of it, so it may take a while." 60k structure hp. It would hold a while if there was a damage control unit fitted. But luck or arrogance have it, no damage control was fitted. I was hitting for full, unresisted damage. Half of his structure, erased. I notice I got a conversation invite from one of the hulk pilots that was with him, but managed to get away. I opened the convo, assuming he wanted a ransom. "I'm getting a convo from the hulk pilot. He probably wants a ransom," I inform the rest. "No ransoms. We waited long enough for this. He's not getting away." "Agreed." With an emphasis on *greed*, I continued to bore into the structure of the Orca. 20% structure. The private convo with the hulk was still blank, although it has only been open for a couple seconds. The Orca was dropping quickly. Fire starting erupting from the Orca. It was only a few seconds away until the inevitable... The Orca burst into a brilliant explosion. The shockwave of the explosion resounded from the speakers, and flowed into our veins, quelling all of the anxiety, impatience, and offering nothing but the sweet feeling of success. And that, was all that we were after. Elation. The hulk pilot never got to finish his plea for ransom. The window was still blank as he closed the chat window. The battle was over in less than a minute. Cheers of joy rang up through the speakers. The tensity about the atmosphere was lifted into a state of relaxation. Hours of patience had paid off. We got our kill. The Aftermath: Well, me and some alliance mates are sitting in their gravimetric mining site right now, mining up the Gneiss for ship production. I must say, I do feel safe in here. People have come in to try to scan us down, but left with frustration and nasty words in local. I doubt they want to spend over an hour to probe us down. And I guess that's what the mindset of the Orca pilot was. Here's the killmail: http://uol.evekb.co.uk/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=577647 We still haven't received a wardec. Although, I'm not so sure that their CEO would be so angry at us, as he would be at them for bringing an Orca, undefended, into low sec.