His Zealot’s shields were completely gone, and lasers were nibbling at the edges of his armour when Alistair’s comms crackled to life.

‘Hey, Al, would you do us a favour?’

‘Good to hear you, Syl. You’re not back in Dal, are you?’

‘Our tower in Ebodold. We’re going to step this up a bit. Open the door for us, would you? We’re too chunky to squeeze through the gates.’ Sylar sounded gleeful. Alistair started to grin.

‘I did warn you about the food there, didn’t I?’ The Amarrian pilot reopened his fleet comms. ‘Commander Hatthro, notify the fleet, I’m lighting a cynogen, could use a bit of defense.’

‘You’re what?!’

‘Captain Starke, you are go in three, two, one…’ Alistair activated the generator, the load of liquid ozone in his cargo hold burned up in an instant as the miniature wormhole appeared beside his ship.

‘Avion! What the hell…?’ Tiia demanded, just as the jump portal flared twice.

Two looming shapes the colour of dried blood appeared in the midst of the battle, massive hulls scattering smaller ships which hadn’t got out of the way in time as they claimed the space. Cherry’s blade-shaped, monolithic Naglfar, towering above the furious battle, turned with a terrible purpose, turrets rising and settling back as she acquired a target-lock on the Amarrian fleet’s dreadnaught. This was going to be a slugfest.

‘Let ‘er rip, sister, I got your back.’ Sylar felt the deadly hum of his new ship’s systems building up around him, awakened by the adrenalin flooding his body. The shriek of Cherry’s gleeful laughter was the sound of immense autocannons unleashing their full force upon the enemy.

Tiia’s voice echoed in his ear, filled with an odd mix of relief, surprise, and anger. ‘Why didn’t you tell us what you had planned, you bastard?’

‘It was a last-minute idea. We didn’t know if we’d need these or not; I was only going to use this girl to lift the colonists out. ‘ With a thought, Sylar commanded fighters to launch into the fight, instructing them to focus on what remained of the Amarrian support as he brought heavy energy neutraliser batteries to bear on the closest ship: the Reclamation fleet’s carrier. ‘Why so surprised? Just because we specialise in wolfpack doesn’t mean we can’t field anything bigger.’ His Hel-class mothership locked onto the Archon, and Sylar asked Hatthro, ‘You got enough left to take out the carrier and dread, or are we gonna have to do it ourselves?’

The Ammatar fleet’s commander swore at him. ‘Next time, I trust you’ll let us know before you pull a stunt like this. I’ve lost half my men; we could have used your caps a lot sooner.’

Instead of retreating, the Amarrian ships seemed to throw themselves at the mixed Minmatar fleet with a frenzy borne of desperation to remove the threat of the Matari capitals before all else. Draining the capacitor energy from the smaller carrier as fast as the Amarrian Guardians could replenish it, Sylar felt his shields begin to prickle from lasers and a peppering of missiles as the remaining Amarrian fleet focussed fire. Two of his fighter pilots went down, felled by Amarrian drones, and he recalled the rest, launching a fresh group as soon as the first had docked.

The Archon’s armour passed its peak, and the enemy fleet had redoubled their efforts to defend it. Someone somewhere was probably cursing as the mistake was realised: the defense fleet was better-prepared than they had expected, and with their fleet already decimated, it was only a matter of time before their own capital ships fell.

A volley of torpedo-fire struck the Archon from the sky like the hand of an angry god; before the blue-white glare had faded, Sylar was already focussing his mothership’s massive energy neutraliser batteries on the Revelation which was pounding down on Cherry’s armour. ‘Let’s see you use those lasers without any cap, mate,’ he muttered, unaware that his words went out over the open comms. The Archon’s fighters, disoriented by the carrier’s destruction, drifted about the field, and Starke ordered his own flight to focus fire at will amongst the remaining fleet.

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

In the caves on the planet below, Nareen huddled under her father’s worn old jacket. It was cold in here, and damp seeped through the rough stone walls and floor, leaving a chilly slick on her skin. The girl glanced around at the gathered mass of her people, all crouching or sitting on blankets on the floor to avoid the low ceiling. The adults had said they couldn’t make fires because the heat would be seen by the slavers, and Nareen was starting to wonder how her great-grandparents had lived this way.

A scuffle toward the entrance brought several people upright, ready to stand. Someone cracked the shield on a lantern, revealing Scall staggering in, the woman somewhat blinded from the change from light to darkness, her hand on the ceiling to prevent her banging her head.

‘They’re here! On the radio, I heard it. They’ve destroyed most of the Amarr ships, and the slave carrier. Come on!’

Stepping blinking into the sunlight filtering through the trees, Nareen felt someone take her hand; she turned to see Komar looking excited and terrified.

‘It’s Space Capt’n Starke, ‘Ree. I tol’ you he- he could do anythin’.’ He tugged her forward and up the hill towards the treeline, following Scall into the open.

The middle-aged woman pointed up into the sky, away from the low morning sun, ‘Look, you can just see them!’ Against the sooty blue, flecks and glimmers of light could be seen. It was impossible to tell what was happening at this distance, but as they watched, a flash brighter than the others appeared, then again, then–

Everyone gasped as something lit up, a small second sun flaring in the sky. Scall began to yell with triumph. ‘They did it! They did it! Do you see?!’

Nikitta appeared at Nareen’s other elbow. ‘What do you think’s happening?’

Komar released the taller girl’s hand and ran forward, waving his toy Rifter about in the air. ‘Capt’n Starke blew ‘em up! Boom! Like that!’

The colonists hung back cautiously among the trees, uncertain what would happen next as Scall returned to the wrecked Apocalypse. After a while, five dark shapes appeared in the air, descending carefully to the fields just beyond the limits of the houses. A few minutes later, Scall returned with a wiry Sebiestor man dressed like a soldier following closely.

‘I’m Corporal Vahann, I’m in charge of the drop you see over there. Those ships will take you and your possessions up to our mothership for transport off-world.’ He looked around the gathered crowd among the trees, taking in homespun clothing, rough animal leathers and hard-worn yet determined faces. ‘This is a hazardous system for an undefended colony like this, but whether you choose to leave or remain is up to you.’

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

SPACE CAPTAIN STARKE strides through the halls of his mothership, running a hand over his new short-cropped hair. Guarded by the Ammatar and renegade TLF fleets, he feels safe enough to park the ship in empty space and leave his capsule.

There is business to discuss.

He is followed by TIIA EDGRIET and MIRITHAK HATTHRO, along with the Nefantar commander’s small honour-guard. The trust between the Matari forces and the Ammatar is still thin and laced with suspicion, but HATTHRO has the authority of his tribe’s leaders and EDGRIET has been contacted by THE GENERAL to endorse the opening of diplomatic relations in this backwater system.

The group enters the assembly bay, a cavernous room usually used for mustering ground-forces near the dropship hangar. Something buzzes through the air and strikes STARKE’s leg before tumbling to the floor with a whirr; he stops with a puzzled frown to pick it up. A smile forms on his face as he turns the clockwork wooden Rifter over in his hands, recognising the hand-painted sunburst design. The captain looks up to see three terrified children staring up at him from behind a pile of bales and boxes, all the Ubtes colonists’ worldly possessions.

STARKE: (still smiling)
Is this yours?

EDGRIET peers curiously at the toy, then grins and looks out across the room at the ten thousand worried people gathered there. HATTHRO looks calculating, then looks to EDGRIET and nods. The TLF commander, her rank restored and gleaming at her collar, returns the nod, then steps forward.

EDGRIET: (in a clear voice which carries well through the room)
My people… my family. (she smiles) It’s been far too long, and I truly wish the circumstances were better. (she sobers) We have lost our home. The land we have worked all our lives, the houses we have built with our bare hands. We are orphans of the cluster, as our grandparents and great-grandparents once were.

As she speaks, the people begin to cluster around, hushing children so that the woman can be heard by all.

EDGRIET:
We cannot go back. I wish we could, but the Amarr know about the settlement now, and will return. This leaves you with a choice. The Republic will welcome each and every one of you: rehome you, offer you jobs, education, medical care. It’s an easier life than what you’re accustomed you. There are better opportunities.

She glances to the side, then waves her hand to indicate HATTHRO.

EDGRIET:
This man has a different offer for you; he represents the Nefantar tribe. The Ammatar have an interest in becoming a part of the Republic once again, and in good faith, they are willing to offer you places on another planet they are already colonising. What they offer is much like what we had on Ubtes VIII, working alongside Nefantar volunteers. You will be offered equal standing with their people, with respect given to our own customs; and the world is closer to the centre of their domain, and much better protected.

A ripple of voices runs through the room as the refugees look to one another, seeking guidance. HATTHRO steps forward.

HATTHRO:
The offer is genuine. Your skills and experiences will greatly benefit our own colonists, and the Nefantar will not reduce you to the slaves your ancestors once were. No ill will shall be held if you choose to return to the Republic.

A man steps forward from the crowd; it is RISGA, NAREEN’s father, who was elected speaker for the refugees before they boarded the dropships. He stands tall, proud in his rough-woven clothing and hand-made leather boots before the Republic and Ammatar representatives.

RISGA:
I speak for all of us gathered here. We would prefer to remain on our world, if such a thing were possible, though we realise the extent of the danger. A life in the Republic would be comfortable, yes, but we do not want an easy life. Some may choose that for themselves, and the rest of us wish them well. But as a whole, we will accept the offer of the Nefantar, provided that we are permitted contact with the Republic at any time.

The Nefantar commander nods.

HATTHRO:
Of course. The planet we offer you is Abha VII, and not much different from Ubtes VIII. You will be given tools and equipment, as well as a modern communications system…

As he speaks, STARKE murmurs to EDGRIET.

STARKE:
Is this what you expected from your people?

EDGRIET: (nodding)
Charity is not something we accept easily, Captain. Better to be granted only the barest necessities so that we can make our own way.

The Brutor captain nods, then glances over to where the three children still watch him. Crouching, he holds the toy Rifter out towards them. NIKITTA, NAREEN and KOMAR approach shyly, and KOMAR accepts his toy back without removing his eyes from STARKE.

EDGRIET: (smiling)
Unless I’m very much mistaken, you’re my nephew, Niki, yes? You were very small when I last saw you.

NIKITTA nods. Smiling, STARKE holds his hand out.

STARKE:
Nice to meet you. Who are your friends?

NIKITTA: (shaking STARKE’s hand)
Nareen and Komar… sir.

STARKE reaches out to shake the other children’s hands, too.

STARKE:
It’s great to meet you guys. I guess you watch the show, huh?

The children nod. The captain smiles broadly.

STARKE:
Why don’t you go ask your parents if you can meet the rest of the Nova Elite while you’re here? Tell your friends, too.

NAREEN squeals and runs back towards her mother, SAPHA, who is standing to the side as her husband and HATTHRO negotiate. NIKITTA also hurries away, but KOMAR hangs back, staring at STARKE solemnly.

KOMAR:
I told them you could do anything.

STARKE smiles proudly.

STARKE:
The Nova Elite always fly to defend our people.

This article is brought to you by EVE-Mag.com - an independent EVE Magazine, ©2009 EVE-Mag.com. Read more of New Eden's finest writers here!

Space Captain Starke and the Refugees of Ubtes

E-ON Issue #017 – Out Now

Published 16th October 2009 (delayed to incorporate exclusive content from
Fanfest 09)

Content includes:

IN DUST WE TRUST
For console gamers DUST 514 promises to be the most unique shooter ever
devised, but for those of us already fighting between planets what will it
mean to have hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, fighting on the
ground? A crack squad of E-ON special forces capture CCP to find out how the
EVE FPS will fuse with EVE Online, plus we get the views of players to see
if they are as excited about DUST 514 as they should be.

THREE CHRONICLES
Officially, the early days of Amarrian expansion were a time of glory for
New Eden’s largest empire, while today the worlds within the factional
warzones are seen as frontiers that will one day reward the brave pioneers
that have tried to tame them. The problem with official versions of events
past and present is that they are very often wrong, as evidenced by three
new chronicles in this issue of E-ON, which show a very different side to
life on the frontiers of New Eden.

TRUST FUNDS
Players have never been as rich as they are currently, yet the status of
banks in the New Eden economy has never looked bleaker after a string of
high-profile trust issues that have left the industry in tatters. Player
economist and blogger LaVista Vista delves into the history of banking in
EVE to see if it has a future and what it might look like.

PLUS

* News on Cosmos and Dominion from Fanfest 09
* Testflight: Electronic Attack frigates
* Profiles of Pandemic Legion, Dr Caymus and Jeran Tek
* Interviews with CCP Molock and CCP Manifest
* Win signed copies of The Burning Life
* Full round-up of 0.0 activity in Quarterly Report
* Guides to wormholes, modules and EVE: Conquests
* Websites for new players
* … and all the latest news

This article is brought to you by EVE-Mag.com - an independent EVE Magazine, ©2009 EVE-Mag.com. Read more of New Eden's finest writers here!

E-ON Issue #017 – Out Now

The wrecked battleship, though wing-clipped, was anything but dead: over the years, the escaped slaves had worked to restore and adapt its systems to meet their needs, and the soft rumble of pumps and generators had for decades been a comfort.

Scall was particularly proud of her work on the sensor and communications arrays. After taking the Republic University’s distance-learning courses on starship electronics and mechanics, she’d dedicated her hours to bringing the systems back up to near-perfect functionality. It was her pet project, and her husband had long bemoaned that she spent more time in the ship than she did at home.

There were still a few bugs to work out, though, and Scall had decided to open up one of the consoles and find out why it wasn’t lighting properly.

Something pinged unpleasantly as she pulled a wire free of its contact.

‘Crap.’ She plugged it back in and the ping sounded again, then again. She started sorting through the mass of fibreoptic spaghetti, then realised the sound wasn’t related to her work. The noise was becoming repetitive, and urgent, and the stocky woman spun to see several sensors lit up at once, points of amethyst, amber and ruby flickering across the boards.

‘Oh no… no, no, no…’ Hurriedly, Scall woke up the display they’d jury-rigged into the capsule trunk-leads in order to see the command overview. Multiple pilot signatures filled the system channels; a bit of fiddling with the spliced-in controls revealed the fleet transponder codes.

Heart in her throat, the specialist sprinted for the comms chamber above, sandaled feet pounding the metal steps, and slapped her hand on the alarm.

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

Coiled in the guts of the metal beast, wires excised from other parts of the ship and grafted in to modify the functions of other parts stirred with current for the first time in generations. Even as the improvised alert system blared a warning across the rooftops of the colony, the focussed-band FTL transmitter fired off a pre-set message.

The Republic communications relays were not the only ones to receive it.

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

TIIA EDGRIET stalks through station halls filled with men and women in uniforms hurrying this way and that; the legend in the lower-right corner reads Dal I: Tribal Liberation Force Assembly Plant. The commander looks tense and anxious, a datapad gripped in one hand as her secretary struggles to keep up with her. Rounding a bend in the hall, she spies SPACE CAPTAIN STARKE and ALISTAIR AVION and changes direction to meet them.

EDGRIET:
Starke, where the Hel have you been?

STARKE and AVION exchange a look.

STARKE:
The clone bay, updating.

The Brutor captain presses back against the wall to let a group of pilots hurry past.

STARKE:
What’ve we got?

EDGRIET tosses the datapad at him over her shoulder as she leads them toward the lift to the capsuleer hangars.

EDGRIET:
Emergency signal, not encoded or anything. Straight from Ubtes, contains a snapshot of what was on the scanner when they pushed the button.

The smaller woman halts and turns suddenly, nearly causing STARKE and AVION to pile into her. She stares up at STARKE with the intensity of a solar flare.

EDGRIET:
Your staged informant scenes aside, there’s no more time to waste. Are your pilots ready, Captain?

SPACE CAPTAIN STARKE studies her for a moment, then nods.

STARKE:
We’re at your command.

The Sebiestor commander studies him a moment longer, then nods sharply.

EDGRIET:
To your ships, then, gentlemen.

ALISTAIR AVION watches EDGRIET leave, then cranes his neck up and around to eye his commander.

AVION:
Try not to do anything stupid in order to impress her, will you?

STARKE is frowning at the datapad.

STARKE: (muttering distractedly)
I can hold it together, don’t worry about me.

He hands the ‘pad over to his Amarrian second in command.

STARKE:
We’re not going to make it before their fleet’s in position.

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

Watching sunlight glimmer off the cloud structures far below, the Reclamation fleet’s scout almost missed the appearance of a new signature on her local grid. She frowned as it winked out before identification could be made. Was that…? ‘Command, scout. We may have company, What’s your ETA? …Five minutes, understood.’

Small points of gold began to appear at the edge of the atmosphere fifty kilometres away: support ships followed by a group of five battleships, gleaming in the refracted light. The signal was given, and the shimmering whirlpool of a cynosural field lit up, heralding the arrival of the fleet’s primary component, an Archon-class carrier filled with dropships to collect the Matari settlers.

The beacon collapsed suddenly, and comms descended into a mass of confusion as the pilot of the generator frigate lost both his ship and his life in rapid succession. The Retribution-class assault frigate which had destroyed the generator under the nose of its own fleet was quickly torn apart as the Amarrian forces obtained targeting locks, but the space around them was beginning to flood with unaffiliated ships. Alarms blared as the Reclamation fleet struggled to restore order and reorient towards the unexpected threat. Lasers began to cross the sky, searing and crackling in the high-level atmosphere.

The Ammatar had arrived, and they were not happy.

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

‘Everyone form up on the gate. Libbies, you with us?’

”Libbies’. Starke, you cheeky bastard…’

‘With us or not, Tiia?’ Sylar grinned to himself, feeling his assault frigate responding easily to his commands. Alistair has his recording equipment running at peak performance; this fight might easily be more desperate than any they’d ever been in before, but that was all the more reason to get every moment into the show. A Reclaiming fleet was not the sort of thing most Minmatar would ever see, let alone the rest of the cluster. People needed to know this was still happening.

‘You know better than to ask that.’ Tiia’s Tempest and the rest of her squadrons formed the bulk of the fleet; the Novas in their smaller frigates and cruisers appeared fewer in comparison, though their numbers were about even.

Sylar chuckled. ‘We all need to loosen up here. Riva, whatcha got in there?’

‘Ubtes is hopping, sir. Looks like there’s a fight going on.’

A fight? ‘Who’s involved?’

‘Lemme actually get out of warp, huh? …OHH! Cap’, we’re missing the fun. Looks like the local Ammatar have decided to let the Amarr fleet know they’re no longer welcome out here.’

Tiia’s voice cut through the comms. ‘Nice to know they’re serious about making their peace with the Republic.’

Mind racing, Sylar asked, ‘Riv, what kind of opposition are we looking at?’

‘There’s wrecks all over the place. Looks like an Amarr carrier and standard support fleet versus a varied Ammatar fleet. No cynos up, looks like their generator frig got popped. Field looks balanced, the carrier is holding off drop pattern.’

‘That’s because it’ll be vulnerable to attack with the drops down. Locate the Ammatar commander, I want a word with him before we get involved.’

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

‘Scall, let’s go! Everyone else is out, what are you still doing in here?’ Aoli tugged at the communications specialist’s shoulder. The older woman flapped her hand impatiently.

‘You go. Someone needs to listen in. We need to know what’s happening.’

‘And if the slaver ships land?’

Scall held up the small laser pistol she’d liberated from the Apocalypse’s armoury; it was an antique, but it worked still. ‘They won’t take me alive.’

Aoli slapped the back of Scall’s head. ‘You be careful, dammit.’ Scall was right, but the younger woman still worried as she hurried from the battleship wreck towards the treeline and the hills to the south. When the ship had first landed, the escaped slaves had hidden among the woods, fearing the ship would be found by rescue parties. None had come, however, and the hidden caves had lain abandoned until now. Again, they would shelter the colonists… hopefully.

She paused at the edge of the village, glancing up at the sky above. Bright flashes had been seen; they could only hope it was Captain Starke holding the Amarrian fleet off.

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

Realspace coalesced around the Matari fleet as they dropped out of warp, vivid bursts of missile impacts and laser-fire filling their overviews.

‘Good timing, Captain,’ the Ammatar commander, Mirithak Hatthro, said. The Nefantar tribesman’s deep voice threatened to overwhelm the communications link, resonating with a richness better-suited to a holo-performer than a thirty-year career officer. The incoming fleet had disbanded and re-formed as squads under Hatthro’s command, putting them into the same comms frequency. Tiia and Imkara had been less than fond of the idea of joining the Ammatar fleet, but it was the only way to coordinate. ‘We’ve got the carrier pinned down, but there’s a lot of logistics being used, Starke. We’ve been picking off the little ones, but it’s slow going.’

‘You focus on the battleships, we’ll take care of the support,’ Sylar responded. The Matari ships surged forward into the mess, squads peeling off in different directions as leaders called primaries.

Amarrian pilots’ signatures began to wink out one after another as the balance shifted. As he came around for another pass on an enemy Guardian-class cruiser, Sylar spotted a lone Amarrian frigate moving toward the Ammatar fleet, guarded by destroyers. ‘Riva, get me a scan of that Punisher, fast! I don’t like it.’

‘I’m too far off… oh, just brilliant.’ The Vherokior pilot cursed as the Punisher activated another cyno beacon. ‘Now what?’

A blinding flash announced the arrival of another Amarrian capital ship; as the glare faded, the menacing, pointed prow of a Revelation-class dreadnaught turned with terrible purpose toward the Ammatar ships, turrets larger than a cruiser rotating smoothly around to focus on the enemy fleet.

‘All battleships, evasive manoeuvers! Don’t make an easy target of yourselves!’ Hatthro ordered hoarsely. It was the worst possible situation the battle-scarred veteran could imagine, and he gripped the arms of his command chair tightly. Only the presence of the capsuleers in his fleet stopped him from calling a retreat. ‘Someone take out that cyno frigate before anything else comes through.’

‘On it. Cherry, cover me,’ Sylar responded tightly, his assault frigate banking gracefully towards the stationary target.

‘Syl, you back the fuck off, those are destroyers–’

‘Al, trust me.’ Sylar settled into a tight orbit alongside Cherry’s Hound, autocannons and missiles tearing the Amarrian frigate apart, their own shields beginning to buckle as the trio of Coercers turned their guns on them.

‘I’m webbed! Gonna try–’ Cherry’s transmission cut off as the destroyers’ small lasers broke through her shields, melting quickly through armour and hull; one of the ships got a lucky lock on the outlaw’s capsule, and the egg-shaped craft imploded under a fat volley of laserfire. Sylar Starke’s Jaguar and capsule quickly followed.

‘No!’ Tiia cried, seeing Sylar’s overview icon redline and vanish. ‘Shit! Shit! Al, you’re in charge there, keep the fires burning. Swap targets!’

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

‘Ugh!’ Sylar surged upright, shaking cloning-vat fluid from his head, instantly missing the feel of his dreadlocks; those were gone, now, part of a body he would never wear again. In the next vat over, he could see Cherry struggling to unhook herself from the input wires, looking strange without her tattoos. The Caldari cloning bay attendants looked alarmed.

One of them stepped forward, regaining most of his composure. ‘Welcome to Ebodold Kaalakiota station. I’m Doctor Mi–’

‘Spare us the speech, we need to be flight-ready ten minutes ago,’ the captain grunted shortly. ‘And set us up for fresh clones, we may be seeing you again today.’ The attendants hurried forward to remove the wires the pilots couldn’t reach, handing them towels as they emerged, dripping translucent blue fluid on the cloning-bay floor.

The captain reached over and slapped the younger woman’s shoulder. ‘Let’s saddle ‘em up. You ready?’

The former pirate grinned broadly up at him as she wiped vat-fluid from her generous curves. ‘I been waiting for this since the day I bought her. Those suckers won’t know what hit ‘em.’

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

To Be Continued Next Week!
Same EVE Time, Same EVE Channel!

This article is brought to you by EVE-Mag.com - an independent EVE Magazine, ©2009 EVE-Mag.com. Read more of New Eden's finest writers here!

Space Captain Starke and the Slaver Fleet of Amarr

The quad was quiet, a steady rain pattering down to flatten the straggly grass and form tepid puddles in the hollows. From the surrounding buildings, the chatter of conversation could be heard, muffled by the thick transparent panels which had been cannibalised for use as windows from the wrecked Apocalypse. Its golden bulk, rain-slicked and still shining despite generations of exposure to planetside elements, loomed in the centre of the village like a massive beached whale, half-submerged in the soft earth that had been ploughed up when it landed. Over time, the tailing furrow had filled with water, forming a long lake which was sustained by groundwater pumped up by the refurbished ship’s generators to irrigate the community’s agricultural works.

A Rifter bearing the sunburst logo of the Nova Elite arced through the sooty sky, rain streaming from its rust-coloured hull. An explosion of silt and mud rose as the ship crashed down into the damp soil, its engines spluttering as the craft settled into the muck. Splashing across the field, Komar hurried over and retrieved the painted wooden toy, peering into its clockwork mechanism and blowing the water out.

Wading back through the mud, the short, skinny boy returned to where Nikitta and Nareen sat under the portico outside the school building. Most of the other children had opted to remain indoors out of the damp weather during the midday break, but Niki had been troubled by the sudden appearance of his mother’s sister in the children’s favourite holo-serial. He’d spent most of the last week worrying over it, and his sudden pensiveness concerned his friends.

Nareen hunkered on the swept flagstones with her chin on her knees, absently chewing the end of one of her long dark braids. ‘I wonder what she wants Capt’n Starke to–hey!’ She and Nikitta both yelped as Komar landed feet-first in a large puddle at the edge of the overhang, splashing them.

‘’S easy! She’s gonna ask him to- to help blow up th’ Empress!’ he babbled excitedly. He pulled a key from his shirt pocket and began to wind the toy Rifter’s engine again.

‘Don’t be dumb,’ Nareen retorted, wiping murky water from her shins. ‘You remember how many guys she has?’ Footage from Jamyl Sarum’s coronation had been used in one of the last year’s episodes. The amassed ships of the Imperial Navy had made a grim impression on the children; some had since had occasional nightmares wherein that sea of deadly gold had arrived to reclaim their families.

‘I bet Capt’n Starke could do it—‘

Nikitta glanced up from the patternless whorls he’d been scratching on the flagstones with a twig he’d found. ‘He can’t. The entire R’public can’t kill all the bad guys. If that was really Aunt Tiia… Ma says it was. She must be planning something else.’

A mechanical judder caused the puddles to ripple and brought the children to their feet with alarm. The high-to-low sliding moan of something spinning down, followed by raised voices, drew them around the corner of the school-buildings to where they could see the workers scrambling over the pump-housing rigged up to the wrecked battleship. The constant low hum of the mechanisms and generators had ceased, and the specialists at work seemed calm. The children stood watching a moment, then Komar tugged Nareen’s elbow.

‘They shut the water off?’

The tall girl nodded. ‘I think so.’

‘But we… we need the water…’

Nikitta wrapped his arms around himself, feeling cold from something other than the raindrops trickling down the back of his neck. ‘Something’s going on.’

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

The scene opens on the office of THE GENERAL, unchanged from STARKE and AVION’s meeting. A holo-projector is flashing a loop of tactical information into the air above the desk; it is largely ignored by the two women standing on either side of the desk. THE GENERAL and TIIA EDGRIET are arguing fiercely, and from time to time their vehement gestures indicate one item or another in the projection.

There is no direct audio, and all the colours in the scene have been washed nearly to greys, indicating it is a flashback to an earlier event.

EDGRIET: (voice-over)
The day you arrived, Captain, I had a… disagreement with the General. Some intel arrived which… well, it’s kind of important to me. There’s a colony of sorts, just outside Republic space. It was started by a group of escaped slaves whose ship couldn’t go any further. The Amarr have finally noticed this colony and intend to reclaim the inhabitants.

The scene changes to show EDGRIET seated on a munitions crate in a hangar; from the paint-work on the Jaguar in the background, it’s clear the hangar has been allotted to SPACE CAPTAIN STARKE, who along with ALISTAIR AVION is seated on another long metal box labelled ‘Warrior II’. The Sebiestor woman is scowling fiercely.

EDGRIET:
The General has… made it clear… that she will not permit me to take a task force in to rescue the colonists. The planet lies in Ammatar territory, if you could call it that. You can imagine the fuss they’d kick up with the Republic if we dropped carriers into their space.

STARKE frowns thoughtfully and glances at AVION; the Amarrian looks back before closing his eyes under raised brows, lips pursed. The Brutor nods and turns back to EDGRIET.

STARKE:
We can understand why you would want to rescue these people, but why is it so important that you be the one to do it?

The woman looks down at her hands.

EDGRIET:
Because that colony is where I grew up, Captain. They aren’t just our people, they’re my family.

AVION leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped as he looks up at EDGRIET.

AVION: (appearing to already know the answer)
So… why not hire mercenaries to rescue your people, if the General won’t allow you to do it personally?

EDGRIET: (nodding)
This is exactly why I’ve come to you. Your Elite are only marginally associated with the Republic. I want you to help me.

STARKE: (looking thoughtful)
Won’t the General be angry? Or the Thukkers, for that matter?

EDGRIET: (glaring)
Do you think that matters, Captain? My people are in danger. What would you do?

She reaches up and removes the rank pins from the collar of her jacket, smiling at the stunned expressions on the men’s faces.

EDGRIET:
I’m resigning my commission in the militia. I’ve talked things over with my squadron, and they’re all with me, one-hundred percent. So what do you say, Captain? Will you help me out? Or do I have to hold you at gunpoint first?

STARKE and AVION look at each other, then share a slow grin.

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

The room was silent for a long, heavily-pregnant moment. Then, like an ocean tide, a roar of voices rose as people turned to one another, confused, worried, frightened.

Leaning back against the wall, Scall’s mind raced, torn between glee that her assessment had been right and numbing terror that it was too little and too late. This is Ammatar space? Why all the Thukker signals, then? The signs of moving caravans had been noticeable for as long as she’d been in charge of the communications setup. That they’d been living so close to a potential enemy without discovery was a miracle in itself; she was grateful that they’d been spared for so long.

Havah sat still, her eyes fixed on her sister’s face in the projection. Perhaps to viewers elsewhere, this was simply an exciting build-up to the end of the season, but to the refugees living on Ubtes VIII, the new development was a hidden message.

Prepare to run. We’re coming for you.

Up at the front of the room, Komar, Nareen and Nikitta knelt in silence, heedless of the commotion around them. They watched transfixed as Tiia presented her rank pins and all those of her pilots to the General with an impassioned resignation speech; as the Nova Elite and former TLF forces prepared for what might possibly be the fight of their lives. The usual drama happened: a hangar tech was caught sending a message to the Amarr warning them of the fleet’s preparations; he was imprisoned but managed to escape, leaving three security officers and a shuttle pilot badly injured.

Not until the final closing scene – where Starke, Avion, Tiia and her second, Imkara Vash, seated around a desk covered with tactical readouts, came to the realisation that they would need to move faster – did any of the three children say anything.

‘The slavers are coming,’ Komar said quietly. Nikitta nodded. The worst nightmare of any Matari child was coming to life.

Would Space Captain Starke arrive in time to save them all?

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

Tiia Edgriet was overseeing the refitting of her Tempest-class battleship when one of her hangar security officers approached and murmured something in her ear.

‘What? Of course. Let him in.’

The petite Sebiestor turned a minute later to see Alistair Avion crossing the open hangar floor, deftly sidestepping the techs and maintenance drones that scurried this way and that. The Amarrian was dressed, as he did for the show he helped produce, in traditional Brutor captain’s garb. Somehow, the Matari uniform failed to look awkward or out of place on its wearer; perhaps it was the way he carried himself.

‘Commander.’

‘Mister Avion. What can I do for you?’

He smiled warmly. ‘I was hoping I could ask you a bit about this colony. About how many people are we talking about?’

Tiia frowned and folded her arms, considering. ‘Could be as many as ten thousand by now. There are elderly and babies; they’re not starving down there, and the medical facilities have been maintained well.’

‘On the ship that brought your predecessors there?’

She nodded. ‘Our grandparents kept the ship functioning smoothly, so a lot of their technical skills have been passed down.’

Alistair smiled grimly, knowing all too well the uses of slaves aboard Amarrian ships. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘If you don’t mind my asking…’

‘Go on, then.’

He pursed his lips momentarily. ‘If you and a few others left for the Republic—‘

‘They came and picked us up when we applied to the various universities. The Republic knows the colony is there.’

‘Right, right. But if you could leave, why is the rest of the colony still there? Why not request a full-on transport back to civilisation?’

Running her hands over her head to adjust the clips holding her hair back, Tiia frowned. ‘Good question. I think simply because it’s ours, you know? We were stuck there, but within the first two years they had a functioning agriculture setup and had adapted the ship’s working systems to their needs. It’s very backwards… you might call it primitive. But it’s ours, we worked hard for it. It’s something to be proud of.’ She shrugged. ‘We’re a hard, tenacious lot, Mister Avion.’

He chuckled. ‘You certainly are that. Will they know they’re in danger?’

The tiny woman nodded. ‘The kids watch your show, if the sensor array we put in stationary orbit hasn’t already picked up the recon operations. They’ll know.’

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

On the outskirts of the Ubtes star system, Nimambal gate flashed. The scout-ship decloaked, its bulky form vanishing almost immediately under a covert-ops cloak as it angled towards the eighth planet. Slipping her craft into orbit between the atmosphere layer and the closer of the two moons, the pilot frowned; the signals she’d been told to pinpoint weren’t there anymore.

It took her a solid half-hour’s work running multispectral scans to locate the faint electromagnetic signs of the wrecked Apocalypse’s generators.

‘Command, scout here. Location pinpointed, awaiting further instructions. …Acknowledged.’

The scout moved into a stationary orbit, aligning to provide the fleet with a good warp-in position, and settled in to wait. The Reclamation fleet would arrive soon, to fulfill their holy duty and return the Matari colonists to the Lord’s flock.

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

To Be Continued Next Week!
Same EVE Time, Same EVE Channel!

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Space Captain Starke and the Pride of Matar

Picture credit: Wotlankor

Philosophical Foundations

EVE is unlike anything out there – it’s an incalculably unique game. To me EVE is quite like a real-world simulation of sorts – if on an infinitely small scale in comparison. It is, however, big and complicated enough to allow us to play out incredible fantasies of mass-warfare, corporate espionage and piracy. On that very important note, I urge you to start looking at EVE more as a simulation than a game – at least in some respects, which brings us to …

Anyone can start a corporation in EVE with the appropriate skills. That is not important. What’s important is understanding how to create a successful corporation. If you go to Google.com right now and do a few searches you would probably be overwhelmed with the sheer volume of information on how to, say, set up a network of jump bridges, use beacons to advertise your corporation in lowsec, etc. – the real question is, “Why would Capsuleer A, B and C choose my corp?” I am not concerned with retention here, that comes later. Neither am I concerned with resources, tax, etc. – there are other guides for that. What I am concerned with is helping your eve-mail inbox to become overwhelmed with corp applications. This can be accomplished with a firm philosophical foundation.

Foundations

What do you want to accomplish in EVE? Going back to my insistence that you start seeing EVE as a simulation rather than a game, consider about your motivations, your values, just as you would in real life. If you want to, say, start a corporation hell-bent on mining out every last gravimetric site in the unknown universe, stick with it! If you need time to decide, take it. If you need money, be patient. This is no cake walk – the core of EVE is corporation/alliance relations. Always be considerate of scale when assessing your goals. Once you’ve decided what you want to do, it’s time to study…

Philosophy

So you’ve decided to create the very best pirate corp in New Eden, how do you go about recruiting the masses of EVE into your own warm and inviting wedge of space. Well, to begin with you need to have values and aesthetics.

Values

Values? In an internet spaceship game? Yes. Values are everywhere. You, me and the Spaniard who popped your pod in his HAC last night have values. It’s important to look beyond the game [simulation] and see the person sitting behind the computer. I am not going to join a corporation without the right elements, just as I would not in the real world. If my Masonic Lodge did not contain people I liked and respected, I would find another Lodge.

Are you leadership material? In terms of hard statistics, you probably aren’t. If you’ve never been a Fleet Commander, for example, what business should you have running a corporation with possibly hundreds of people depending on you for direction? If you can answer this question without hesitation you should proceed to determining what your corporation’s values ought to be. Plainly, they really should echo your own values. If you’re an anarchist at heart in real life, running a military dictatorship would possibly be a bit of stretch.

Your first job should be to examine the values of other corps. These can be found in mission statements, codes of conduct, etc. Focus on the large and successful corporations. You will most certainly find that they all have rules or values. For example, the simplest could be said to be NRDS/NBSI. Corporations under the CVA alliance, for example, adhere to a strict NRDS policy – CVA maintains a tirelessly-updated list of KOS/Red’s and allows neutral players access to their system if standards and good behavior are met. CVA also values roleplay. if your corporation has little-to-no interest in roleplay, it would be pointless to try and attract players who are heavily invested in roleplay.

Exclusivity

Every major corporation has it. Would it be pompous of you to put your elitist foot down from the get-go? Absolutely not! If you take away one thing from this article I want you to understand that applying your values to recruitment is THE most important step in becoming successful in terms of sheer numbers. Have I lost my mind? Elitism brings people in rather than shutting them out? Read on…

Consider this. You’re a new pilot in EVE and there are only a few corporations to chose from and out of those choices only three of them are PVP-focused:

TruMENACE
Come blow stuff up with us! We take anyone – no trials. Douchebaggery is not welcome. Members all part of the Facebook Yellow Mustard fan community
Membership count: 1900
Corporation Age: 3 years.

LOLShips
Everyone is welcome. We’re kewl. LOLCats FTW!
Membership count: 3
Corporation Age: 1 month

Caduceus Mercs
Tightly-knit community of friends. 10 million skillpoint requirement, specializing in PVP. Vent interview – if we wouldn’t drink a beer with you, we don’t want you here. All of us RP – if you’re not invested in RP turn away now. 90% KB efficiency required. No liberals welcome.
Membership count: 100
Corporation Age: 6 months

The above three examples are pretty typical stereotypes for three types of EVE group: The community-based, catch-all and The clueless catch-all attempt; The specialists.

What you should aim to be is a specialist. Why? Think about it. Out of all three corps you’d probably go for Caduceus because, first and foremost, they seem to know their stuff AND they are selective. If you chose a corp that has strict requirements catered to your own tastes and values there is a very good chance that you will be flying with people like yourself. This is appealing for obvious reasons.

So at this juncture it would be important for you to consider, if you do choose to create your own corporation, that there are people out there in EVE that are very similar to yourself. You will only attract them into your ranks if you are unafraid to establish your independent values immediately and to be unafraid of separating the wheat from the chaff and so keeping your standards high.

Aesthetics

A short word on aesthetics. They’re important. how you present yourself is important. If you’re a man and have a wife you understand this better than anyone. If you’re not shaving every single day, your wife will probably complain that you look messy and not want to go out with you in public. If you walk into a club in your pajamas, they won’t let you in. And so, if you use Geocities.com to host your website and you don’t put the time into getting forums, a KB, etc. up and running you will be very un-presentable and turn people off. Get a good website up and running as soon as possible. Put time and effort into your description and consider very carefully all of the above points.

To summarize, I feel that anyone can create a successful and attractive corp with effort and creativity as long as they understand the necessity of specialization and establishing a clear set of ideals. And most importantly, no-one wants to fly with tards

This article is brought to you by EVE-Mag.com - an independent EVE Magazine, ©2009 EVE-Mag.com. Read more of New Eden's finest writers here!

The EVE Philosophy

Picture credit: EVE Online Ships

Well, well … the Titan … the majestic beast of EVE, rarely seen and feared! When one of this behemoths entered the battlefield, they would decimate whole fleets, people would run in fear … not anymore.

For those who do not know what a Titan can do, it basically has two main uses,

1. To fire a weapon (Doomsday) that causes an obsence amount of damage to an enemy fleet.
2. To open a bridge between itself and a cyno which allows ships in its fleet to use the Cyno, it can then also follow.

The Titan has now become as common as most ships. You’re less likely to see a Black Ops Battleship than you are a Titan. Nowaydays everyone and their mother has a Titan.

If you read the news from around EVE and you read of a titan kill or two, it is no longer a surprise. You may of read of how one alliance fielded 12 or 16 Titans outside of an enemy station and killed one of their own carriers with Doomsdays as a show of force.

However, this is not what this article is about. You now have Titans being used in Low-Sec as well.

“What the hell for, they cant doomsday in low-sec that’s a waste” I hear you cry. Well there are a couple of reasons for these 90bill ISK ships to be outside of Null-Sec.

Null-Sec wars are always raging all the time and there all always winners and losers. People taking space and losing space, so when an alliance loses space and retreats to another location to re-group, sometimes this will be Low-Sec and they will take their Titans with them, rather than leave them in a system they have lost.

Low-Sec Cyno Ship!

A brilliant way of moving your fleet around, or hot dropping on someone a big fleet (this is not hot dropping in the true sense, but you get my drift).

Now, I have had the hot dropping done to me a couple of times once right outside the station I am based in. It is a brilliant tactic and gives such a great element of surprise, but should Titans really be used for this and there be no come back on them? I mean these are the ships that used to strike fear into players and now they are a just a 90 Bil ISK conveyor belt, moving ships from one point to another. Hope you get my analogy there

It’s like taking the greatest boxer at the peak of their abilities, tying their hands behind their back and saying “Go ahead and fight!”, or taking the greatest sprinter and telling him “You can only walk in your races from now on!”. Titans, in my opinion, in Low-Sec are wrong.

When I started playing EVE, Titans where the sort of ships you would never see and people spoke about them in whispers. Now there are 220 known Titans in game, at the last time of counting. With the up and coming patch changes (no more grid doomsday but a focused weapon) I suspect you will definitely see more in Low-Sec. There will be players suddenly selling theirs as the use for them as an offensive weapon will be decreased. With that the price will drop on them. This means Titans will become more available to a wider player base.

Should there be a restriction on these ships or an increase in the learning to fly them, maybe not, however, the Titan is now as common place in Null-Sec as it is Low-Sec. I think it’s quite sad that these once great ships have now been reduced to the state they are in now and for me EVE has lost part of the folklore that originally attracted people in to the game.

Will CCP be creating a new role for them or will they let the biggest and most destructive ship within EVE fall away to be nothing but a 90.000.000.000 ISK conveyor belt?

I suspect the latter but hope for the former.

This article is brought to you by EVE-Mag.com - an independent EVE Magazine, ©2009 EVE-Mag.com. Read more of New Eden's finest writers here!

Titans … no longer a Null-Sec Toy

Picture credit: Casiella Truza

I left the agent’s office with a sense of purpose. They’d tracked down a sector commander in Huola, and his guard had gotten delayed in a nearby system. While regular forces couldn’t get there fast enough or without attracting undue notice, TLF command figured a single capsuleer could do it and take him down.

For the last week, I’d taken quite a few strike missions like this. Starbase reactors, communications relay, and occasionally command staff had all fallen under my guns, and (perhaps prematurely) I’d started to contemplate a possible future joining the leadership structure.

The station staff had my pod prepared already. As I donned my flightsuit, the data conduits interfaced with the implant sockets on the back of my head, neck, and spine. If you’ve ever had that ancient dream of looking up at the stars and simply willing yourself to fly, you’ve at least glimpsed the reality of a capsuleer. In a very real sense, my Stabber and I became one fused entity: my abilities and will, realized in a weapon of war.

We undocked from the Lulm station and made our way quickly out of Heimatar. Amamake, for once, didn’t seem too busy. Preparing to cross into the Empire through Auga, we went on higher alert. I aligned the ship to the Kourmonen gate and warped us to it, only to find well over twenty Imperial Crusade ships waiting there. Calmly, I requested emergency jump access, we went through, and found no hostiles waiting for us. Without wasting a moment, we aligned to the next gate and warped. Just before we entered the warp bubble, though, sensors showed two enemy interceptors coming through the gate. We wasted no time jumping into Huola.

In the target system, no 24IC pilots appeared on Local communications. A few neutral pilots with high security status, indicating they didn’t have a recent history of starting fights in low-sec, plus a few additional TLF pilots. I double-checked the coordinates given by the agent, re-verified all ship systems and weapons, and alerted the crew that we would soon be entering a fight.

Not that this took long, though. The Sector Commander and a few attendant ships had begun inspecting a shattered mining station, probably the work of regular forces earlier. Whether they just wanted to assess damage or perhaps re-construct the facility didn’t matter to us, and we fell upon them with the channeled wrath of the seven tribes.

Our cruiser burned directly for the commander, but the proximity of the station ruins made auto-navigation tricky. Had we caught them in open space, I could have just instructed the ship to orbit the enemy at a defined distance, but in this case we would just get caught avoiding obstacles. Just before we got into range, additional enemy forces warped in a few kilometers away: probably the guard that had tarried.

Too late for them. I maneuvered the ship in close and opened up our 220mm autocannons, plus several banks of heavy assault missiles. The phased plasma ammunition and Hellfire missiles tore into his shields and armor, and just as the enemy guard reached their optimal range, his battlecruiser exploded into a rapidly expanding sphere of heat, light, and debris.

Our assignment complete, we saw no reason to engage the rest of the forces. Indeed, we probably wouldn’t have survived: the Stabber works best as a fast-attack cruiser, not in sustained engagements. Hit and run was the tactic of the day, and now that we’d hit, it was time to run.

Aligning back to Kourmonen, we entered warp drive just as their beam lasers finally started to make contact with our shields. We’d escaped the fight unscathed…

…At least, until we got back into Republic space. Militia intel had reported a large enemy fleet, including at least three Abaddon-class battleships, over a dozen cruisers and battlecruisers, and several destroyers and interceptors. I kept an eye on the directional scanner and the local communication channel.

Entering Auga, Local indicated we had found the fleet, or at least quite a few enemy pilots. The Amamake gate wasn’t in scan range, so I warped the ship directly to the gate and opened a communication channel to the controllers.

The enemy fleet detected us immediately, of course. We began requesting the jump even before we had gotten into range, trying over and over. And so when we did reach range, the gate accepted us and pulled us through. I noticed several of the interceptors jumping through together with us, likely in an attempt to pin us down in Amamake.

“All hands, prepare for maximum acceleration!” I issued the order to align, and the Stabber responded quickly. Full thrust towards the celestial object nearest our bearing. We’d need to reach 75% maximum speed for the warp drive to activate.

We counted it off. 50… 55… 60… 65… 70… 71… 72… 73…

Scrambled. An interceptor held us down and a Cormorant destroyer opened fire. Rapidly we returned fire; perhaps, if the gods willed it, the rest of the fleet would have engaged someone on the other side and we might fight our way out of this.

That didn’t happen, though. A couple of Harbingers led the rest of the fleet through the gate, and the hull quickly disintegrated. As I felt the ship coming apart around me, I began issuing the orders to get my pod into warp as soon as we had cleared the wreckage.

The smartbombs around us prevented that from occurring, and so, almost as soon as the Stabber exploded, I found myself looking back at white-clad technicians through polyglas. They peered closely, as if I looked like some sort of terribly fascinating experiment rather than a Venge Captain in the Tribal Liberation Force.

As the nutrient fluid drained away, one of them handed me a robe and I stepped out.

“Notify the hangar staff to ready one of my fastest frigates. I have a meeting in Lulm.”

“Yes, ma’am. Right away, ma’am. If you’ll step in here, we can outfit you with a new set of subprocessors and take a quick scan to prepare another clone for you.”

The Empire had won today, and my crew had paid the price for my errors. I turned and followed the technician, already considering the propitiatory sacrifices that I would have to offer so that my clan gods would favor me next time.

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Ghost Outrider in the Sky: Part 2

Picture credit: EVE Online Ships

In retrospect, he was a fool to think otherwise. Did he really think that no one would disturb him, while he explored this deadspace complex?

“No plan survives contact.” The dark voice inside his head told him, “You know this to be true.”

Jaret snarled his shields took another hit, buckling the entire ship’s frame so much, that even he, deep within the recess of his pod, could feel the impact through the seat of his pants. With a simple thought he simultaneously reloaded his missile launchers and swung his Hawk around. With a mental twitch he unleashed a hail of missiles towards his formerly confident attacker.

Not content with just missiles, he cycled the ship’s lone pair of railguns and let loose a burst. The electromagnetically charged rounds shot across the vast reach of space between the two ships and smashed through the enemy frigate’s armor and tore a gouge in its hull.

However, the target was not going to go down without a fight. Almost akin to a defiant roar, the enemy Retribution, unleashed a barrage of molten red lasers that sliced through both space and time to smash into his shields. The impact was immense enough, that he could almost hear his ship scream in distress as the shields already pushed to their max, struggled to handle the new barrage of electrically charged ions that now threatened to destroy the already shaky frigate.

Deciding that enough was enough, he triggered an ECM burst that for a few precious seconds blinded the enemy’s sensors to his location. Within seconds the target, a formerly confident pirate, saw his turrets report a negative lock. A heartbeat later, all the pirate was able to glimpse were two immense, magnetically charged slugs come hurtling towards his ship and smash through his shields, armor and shred his hull. If he retained consciousness a second longer he would have noticed the screaming missile that converted his ship into an explosion of components, parts and human tissue.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Jaret scanned his ship. What he saw would send most pilots into tears. His pride and joy, his baby; his Hawk was venting plasma. Shields sputtered back and forth; as the ship struggled to charge up its shields, while trying to keep its frame together. As he scanned out further he saw bits and pieces of his would be attackers.

No doubt they would now be waking up in a freshly furbished clone, their last memories being that of their target ripping their ships into pieces.

He then approached the wreckage that remained of the pirate’s formerly proud frigate. When the Hawk’s sensors picked up what he was looking for, Jaret extracted debris with a gentleness one reserved for small child, and deposited with it within his cargo hold.

With a start the onboard computer announced that four new frigates and a cruiser had entered. His mind reeled in shock, as his sensors screamed that four, very angry, pirate frigates were charging towards him.

Putting a hold on the panic that threatened to reduce him to a whimpering wreck, he shunted all immediate power he had to his warp drive. With an almost deliberate tone, the ships warp drive began to warm up as his computer started a countdown.

“Come on, Come one!” he willed his ship to make the warp jump. With a triumphant tone, the computer beeped and the Faster Than Light drive tore a hole through space and time and shot his ship through the hole.

As his ship went though the warp tunnel, almost absent-mindedly he reloaded all his weapons, in a habit that never left him since his former military days.

The welcome sight of the station, as he approached for docking, received a silent sigh of relief. Almost absent-mindedly he crooned to his frigate, The Justice, “We’re home, baby.” If one listened closely, one could almost swear that the ship warbled in response, as its engines quietly cycled down.

This article is brought to you by EVE-Mag.com - an independent EVE Magazine, ©2009 EVE-Mag.com. Read more of New Eden's finest writers here!

Fan Fiction: Ambush

Picture credit: Wotlankor

This is only my opinion and others may have a different one. We all have different views on the morals of what we do within EVE. Some people would never take from someone else’s NPC wreck (I know that’s crazy but I have meet such a person) and some would never honour a 1vs1 (I always do). I think or hope your getting the picture here.

So … “log on traps”. This is something that for me is a problem and something that I really despise. If your not familiar with this, the basics of it are as follows:

1. Fleet A warps to a gate/belt/planet
2. Fleet A logs off in space, leaving a ship or 2 as bait
3. Bait is engaged by Fleet B
4. Fleet B, who engaged bait, rub their hands as they think they have easy kills
5. Fleet A logs back in (and will be warped to the point they logged off)
6. Fleet A lands on gate
7. Fleet A kills the fleet who engaged the bait

Now, I’ve had this happen to me a number of times (this may turn in to a rant so I apologise now) and every time it does I shake my head.

The fleet who have the log-on-trap done to them have no time to react. All you just see is Local filling up and your scouts (yes, you should have scouts in other systems or covering gates) can’t report intel as there is none to report. One moment it’s your fleet and a couple of targets, the next you have 20 ships landing on you from out of no where and you are dead meat.

Some of you will be screaming “It’s a fair tactic!” at the above and be shaking your heads at what I am saying. To some it may be a fair tactic, however, for me it is about more than tactics, it’s about skill.

There is no skill at all in doing a log-on-trap! You are not testing yourself against another fleet to see who is better, who maintains discipline better, who has the better FC, etc.

Basically your admitting, that if it came to a straight up fight between your fleet and another, you would lose and you have to revert to the most underhanded of methods (imho) to win fights.

“Ohh but its no different to you and your pirate friends ganking someone”

Well it is: I have ganked people in my time. I have baited and then had a fleet jump in to kill people. The difference is that if the people I was doing this to had had eyes in the next system (scouts for the win) then they would’ve not died. Their mistake, their problem!

When people pull a log-on- trap on you, then you have no chance to react or respond. You’re dead and because of the lag that comes with the large amount of ships landing on the grid at the same time, it is very likely that you will be podded as well. Byebye High Grade Slaves.

I get in to fights because I want to test myself and my fleet against others. I like blowing stuff up, if it’s a fair (yes a pirate is saying this) straight up tear-up in space and I or my fleet lose, we will say good fight in Local and the same if we win. If someone baits me successfully and I don’t check other systems etc. then it’s my fault and I will give the people who did it a Well done! If you die, you die … that’s EVE. But when I or my corp members are killed by a log-on-trap I feel cheated.

Now some of you will respond and say EVE and Fair are never used in the same sentence. Yes, I would agree! There is no limit to how low some people can or will go to get kills or swindle (I love that word) people out of their ISK. EVE is a place where you can all make your own choices and do things in game that you would never consider doing in real life.

Can the people who pull log-on-traps turn round and honestly tell me that they love doing it and it makes PVP so great? Could they enjoy it and brag about what great PVP players they are?

I’d say no … they could not.

It is something that you can do and is not considered an exploit of the game mechanics, but does that mean it’s right for people to be able to do this? Before you comment on this article or give your opinion, just imagine: you and eight corp mates engage a ship. You’re all in Battleships or Tech2 ships with scouts all around. Next thing you know, there are 20 or 30 neuts landing on you. Then you’re in Kisogo, sitting in your pod, back in station. All ships destroyed with no warning. Now tell me if your happy about having a log on trap sprung on you.

This article is brought to you by EVE-Mag.com - an independent EVE Magazine, ©2009 EVE-Mag.com. Read more of New Eden's finest writers here!

Logonski for the Win!

This is the first part of the “Become an EVE Blogger!” series here at EVE-Mag.com. You’ve read the Intro on this series, so let’s get started.

In this article I’ll share my thoughts on choosing a blog topic, as well as looking at article topics.

When choosing the main topic for your blog and topics for your articles, you should really think about what exactly you are interested in, especially in the multi-facetted game of EVE. Think of what you enjoy most! Many aspiring bloggers are tempted to start a blog with a certain topic based on what others are already doing. Some write about stuff, that others think is cool. Be true to yourself and go for what you like most.

There are many blogs out there with different topics like Pirating, Mining, Trading, PvP’ing, Fan Fiction and so on, but most of the successful blogs are mixed-topic blogs. Some of  these blogs center around the author (the guy who runs the blog). In my opinion, a healthy combination of various topics makes the blog a really nice read.

Personally, I really enjoy reading about all the stories Pirates experience … fights, losses, victories … combined with a big load of humour and useful insights on tactics. Not only are these stories a great read … if you know how to read between the lines, you’ll probably find a lot of information on game mechanics and on fitting your ship for havoc. Learn from the Ebil Piwates!

To sum it up, here are some key things to pay close attention to when it comes to topics. Please feel free to add your thoughts and ideas in the comment section below this article:

1. Where’s your passion?
Passion is key, so make sure you really enjoy the things you’ll write about. No matter if it is PvP, Ratting, Mining, Mission, etc. … if you are passionate about something this will really shine through in your writing and keep you motivated and excited for it on the long run. People recognize, if the author is commited.

2. Embrace your readers!
A good blog stays alive through user interaction. Blogs use a very strong tool to keep in touch with your readers: the comments section. This is a typical feature available on all blogs. You should provide an e-mail address as well for those personal conversations and fan mails. Developing a successful blog is building a community around it. Think about CK’s Blog Pack and the Blog Banters again, mkay? Building a community means staying in touch with your readers. So if a reader drops you a comment, either on the blog section or personally via e-mail, take your time and respond in a timely manner. Devote some of your time to your audience!

3. Debate with your readers
New Eden is made up of all different kinds of people from different geographical regions, social stratums and cultures. When blogging it is most obvious, that a lot of pilots will find you and your musings on the interwebs, may it be through Mr. Google or through links from other blogs. Some readers may or may not agree with what your are writing about, and some readers may even strongly disagree and attack you verbally. Be aware of this and try not to take it personally. Every blogger has to cope with this.

Here on EVE-Mag.com I do allow for comments which strongly disagree, if they are not offensive and if they are to help and find the correct the post to the good . People are not always in consensus with your opinion and with what you write about. This is part of blogging, and the nature of bringing opinions together. To not let it end like a part out of bounds look at it like your blog was your living room: if someone acts out, he has got to leave. Basta!

4. Go in-depth of topics
Especially EVE is a game, that constantly changes and evolves. For example, think of the different patches and rebalancing, a.k.a the nerfs. Think of the political changes in Null Null space. There is so much to research and write about and the many blogs outthere are able to provide this information on the spot once the information is public. This is what keeps blogs interesting and makes readers come back for moar.

The Take-Away:
If you want to have a prominent and succesful blog, you must be authentic to your interests and passions in EVE-O. Get a feel for which topics are hot (or will be hot in the near future) and try to keep your content interesting. If you can manage to do this, you’re well on your way to become an EVE celebrity

What made YOU start a blog? Please share your thoughts in the comment section. Thanks!

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BaEB – Choosing a Topic