"No More Vespene Gas"

Something I missed in my pre-incursions testing on Sisi of the Planetary Interaction changes was that the depletion mechanics had been put into operation. What this means is that the more you extract from a resource at a location the faster that hot spot turns into a cold spot.

For my two robotics extraction planets, the effect has not been too bad except for base metals on the plasma planet which is pretty remote from other hot spots and may require moving master extractors to increase its operation range. However, my two coolant planets, which are doing a single resource each, has been a lot more difficult as the hot spot depletes in less than three days.

On the upside, my extraction rates have been outstripping my production rates and I might go from 23 hour cycle to 47 hour cycle which has the benefit of being less depleting on the resource nodes.

On the manufacturing planet, in order to deal with the influx of more raw materials I added a fourth launch pad for storage. (Does anyone else think they got launch pad and storage facility stats mixed up?) I had to do an in-place command centre upgrade which is so easy; I love that change.

So overall a lot less double-clicking but a lot more thinking and planning has been required. I think once I find an equilibrium it will work out better in the long run.

Fiction Friday - Series 3: Chapter 17

Previously:
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9
Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16

* * * * *

The capsuleer common deck on the Impro station was busy when I met Nhi'Khuna and her associate a few days later. I had spent the time getting familiar with the station and using a couple station contacts of Nhi's to make sure I would not run into Rusack unintentionally.

We sat in an open air cafe - the open air being the cavernous and well lit station deck which actually felt like being on a planet on a city street without the vehicles... there was even a small occasional breeze- and sipped typical Gallente drinks, a standard coffee for me while she had a Quafe Red Special and the newcomer ordered a Amarrian tea I had never heard of before.

"Kirith, this is Eamon Delvara. He works for IPRC, occasionally flying with us but he specializes in the more mundane activities of system AI security." I extended my hand and after a slight pause the other man shook it. It was rare you could not tell if a man was Gallente or Caldari but Delvara had that unremarkable look mastered. "I've talked to Eamon about our situation," Nhi continued, " and we've agreed that he can help us. For a price."

"Price?" I inquired as she took a drink.

"One million ISK," the other man finally spoke. Caldari accent, I thought to myself. Then the words sunk in.

"A million?" I asked incredulously. "That's a little steep, don't you think?"

Delvara bristled. "That's a friend's discount for what I need to do."

"Well what the hell does a million buy these days?"

"Kirith, relax. The price is excellent and appreciated, Eamon." she said as she nodded at Delvara. She then pulled out her comm. "This is a map of level 23 commercial district. This bar here," she tapped the screen, "is The Lucky Hanger bar and grill. Its where Rusack does most of his meetings. In fact," she zoomed the floor plan in, "there is a table along the wall here which is 'his' regular table.

"In two days time he is planning on meeting someone there, according to the Lucky Hanger's reservation system. It will be middle of the station's afternoon so it should be fairly quiet. Kirith, you will go in and do what you need to do. Here is the name of someone on station that can get any tools you need for the job." She pressed a button and my comm chimed in response. "Don't get caught before the appropriate time."

"Yeah yeah," I answered.

"Don't 'yeah yeah' me, I'm not your fucking mother." She waited while I had the presence of mind to blush and then continued. "Now, normally any serious disturbance kicks up the automated security AI for the deck, which then informs the station security AI and informs the guards on every level to be alerted as necessary, tracking the suspects from the point of disturbance to the point of detention by guards, locking lifts and escalators and checkpoints along the way. In other words, the noose tightens pretty quickly.

"What Eamon is going to do is route that message from the local AI meant for the station AI to himself impersonating it. The guards on level 23 will know something is going on at the Lucky Hanger, but the rest of the station will be oblivious. That is not easy hacking so shut up about the price.

"Once you get off level 23..."

"How do I avoid the guards on level 23?" I interrupted.

"Oh right." She took a card out of a pocket. "This pass is for station maintenance staff and will only work once. She here on the floor plan, "she pointed back to the map, "there is a access stairway to level 22 or 24. Slide the card, get in the stairwell and go up or down one, and you are off level 23. Ok?"

I took the card.

"As I was saying, once off level 23 you go to the main lift, go back to the capsuleer level, get on your ship, and get the hell out of here. Eamon can't hold off the AI security bot forever as it will get suspicious when you disappear from its zone and no authorized notification from up the chain come down. Understand?"

"Got it."

She and Eamon finished their drinks and got up to leave. My coffee was barely touched.

Two days until Rusack finally answered to what he did to my brother.

Reimaging

So, with the new character creator I've been slowing re-imagining all of my characters and trying various styles, options, etc. I'm glad we had the remap (and get another one tomorrow) because a few characters didn't work out in retrospect.

First we have Kirith with the same appearance but altered portrait. I went with less 'in your face angry' and more 'smouldering resentment'. The shadowing is an attempt to emulate the growing darkness on his soul.

Grr.

Then we have Kla'strit, my minnie combat and recon pilot. I tried to make him chunkier and yet more angular, and in his portrait I wanted him to look arrogant and disinterested.

Whatever.

With industrial alt Korannon, I wanted him to look more business-like so very Caldari formal wear for him, and I altered his portrait to look more scarred with better lighting and still friendly and open compared to his brother Kirith.

Load that freighter now! I have a run to make.

Korneilia lives in the wormhole overseeing the colonies so in my first attempt I tried to make her look very professional like a corporate leader would. I did not like it. So as you can see in the composite shot below I changed her hair style, makeup, and face angles a bit to make her look more adventurous like I imagine a person living in a wormhole would have to be.

Welcome to my wormhole.

My next two alts, don't see a lot of action but I did spend an inordinate amount of time on their avatars. Selia, on the left below, is supposed to be a broken lost soul who is blind outside of a pod, while Sun Tomah acts as the public relations director of Ninveah Enterprises. These are the original images and neither one worked for me. Selia was too gaunt and the makeup for Sun was too... wrong.

For selia I mostly altered face structure to make her more human, and for Sun I fixed the bad makeup choices. Both of them are much better to me now.

I had something to eat.

Welcome to Ninveah Enterprises.

Finally we have an alt that assists Korneilia in the wormhole with probing. She is young and modelled after my wife as much as we could. There is some similarity to my wife as a young woman, although I probably should have made the hair darker. I also went with a profile portrait for a change.

The eagerness of youth.

There you have it. A lot of fun and it makes the inner roleplayer in me eager for Incarna.

Reporting

New Eve Tribune is up and I cover the current Eve english podcasts that I know of and are active.

Also on the front page you will see a new feature for latest news snippets as we attempt to get more responsive in today's fast paced world.

Rebuilding

So I thought I had all my colonies configured properly but when I logged in last night to take some screenshots for today's post I saw that my Lava and Plasma colony had nothing in their launch warehouse despite extracting all day. Turns out the new program had more than the link could handle and the products were not routed. A little visual cue would be nice on that one CCP. I mean besides the animation on the link which is very very subtle.

Anyways, got it working with upgraded links and it seems happier now.

Lava Planet

Plasma Planet

Gas Giant 1

Gas Giant 2

Industrial World

As I've talked about before, the four extraction planets get the raw materials and produce the P1 products that I transport to the manufacturing planet every second day. There I take the four raw materials for robotics and the two raw materials for coolant and produce them. I also have a could basic factories for producing water from excess Aqueous Liquids overflow.

Resurgence

I talked about how the corp suffered from a malaise of the soul while in Providence which hurt motivation and attendance. The move to FCON was in part to give us a larger structure to lean on while redistributing load of responsibility in the corp to give some key members some much needed breathing room.

Its been a week and so far the move seems to be paying off. With Pandemic Legion dropping by for a visit (how nice of them to come say hello!) and constant fleet activity, the corp and its restructured and re-motivated leadership have gotten off on the right foot and have been stepping up with record numbers in fleets, be it roams, structure repping, or logistics. I'm proud of my corp right now.

I, of course, have been nowhere to be seen.

It is not intentional, but the first night we were in alliance I had the long planned BMTHOKK live event to run which kept me from any alliance / corp activity, and then the rest of the week I've used my time to get another clone up to where my ships had been moved, as well as get Kla'strit up there to be my extra set of eyes and cyno buddy.

On top of all that, I've used 15-20 minutes here and there to do my avatars (and in a couple cases, redo them after the patch) as well as try to get my colonies in Wormhole Hades back online. Couple all of that with my prime morning time of right after downtime being screwed due to 3 out of 4 mornings having extended downtimes, well, I was hard-pressed to get it all done before tonight.

But I persevered and all I have left to do is to get bookmarks made or updated from our time in RAGE and get the Wyvern into a comfortable staging system. I'm hoping during tonight's session to quickly take care of that and then get into a fleet for some fun so I can help keep the momentum the corp has going.

The Art Of Knowing When To Train A Skill

I put off Logistics V for like forever!

Back in... jeez when was it? 2008? When I was training up for the Chimera anyways, getting Triage was on the list of things to get. Only problem was Logistics V is a long 21+ days skill. Ick. I never even liked flying logistics ships anyways, too much pressure to keep others alive and not die yourself. It didn't help that I trained up for Basilisk during the Armour Guardian-Zealot-Apoc craze of 2009-2010 so there was no good upshot for getting Logi V.

However, the pressure mounts. If I train Amarr Cruiser V, then a Guardian is finally possible. Plus Basilisks are coming back into favour along with shield tanking fleets. And ultimately, Triage for the Ninveah would be a nice addition it is capabilities.

So with Large T2 Lasers firmly in hand (only Beam Specialization requiring level IV to be considered truly complete) I decided to finally bite the bullet and put Logistics V in the queue. Then Amarr Cruiser V and I will be a god amoungst men... or at least in my stable of characters.

The real question haunting this 75 million skillpoint combat character is what next? More race's strategic cruisers? Amarr and/or Gallente battleship V? Caldari Titan? Go back and train some skills to V? Or finally finish the quadfecta and train for Minmatar ships and Projectile weaponry?

(Actually, I'm thinking jump freighter assuming I can save up the ISK for a Rhea but that is only a 36 day diversion, hardly worth mentioning as I would be back in the long term thinking anyways after that.)

The floor is open to suggestions?

Fiction Friday - Series 3: Chapter 16

Previously:
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9
Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15

* * * * *

Club Luminaire in the Stacmon V Impro station was designed to invoke the Crystal Boulevard in Caille on Gallente-Prime. I've heard from others in the corp that its a pale facsimile to the real thing but I was impressed nevertheless.

The club's main dance floor was at the bottom of a large bowl with several levels of translucent balconies and terraces circling the walls. Laser lights reflected and illuminated parts of the structures in hypnotic fashion in time with the pounding dance music and crowds of people lost themselves on the floor in a haze of drugs, music, and physical contact. For others more interested in lounging and socializing the connected balconies provided couches, chairs and tables, bars, gambling booths, and various legal and illegal narcotics.

I had taken a chair at a small table at the edge of a third level balcony and ordered a drink from a scantily clad hostess. From my perch I could see Rusack in a corner across the club from me on the second level, only part of a clear column blocking my view. He sat on a large sectional with two women enjoying drinks and groping. Seeing him happy and carefree only made me angrier.

I was sitting there stewing for about two hours, watching Rusack get intoxicated and more aggressive with his companions (who I figured must have been paid escorts to put up with his drunken shit) when someone sat down in the opposite chair of my table and placed a noise canceler on the surface. I looked with a start and saw Nhi'Khuna sitting there, looking very out of place in her more conservative Amarrian clothes. I said nothing and turned back to watch Rusack.

"Revenge is like a fire; it burns brightly and hotly but in the end only consumes everything including itself, leaving nothing but ashes," she said philosophically. I continued to ignore her.

She started again. "You do realize that the protections provided to us pod pilots in stations by the treaties with CONCORD are null and void if you violate so much as a littering bylaw? And that the Gallente owners of this station will throw you in a cell and forget about you for who knows how long? Especially once they realize that the State is not all that excited about having you back anyways..."

"Really, I should thank him," I finally said. "After all, I'm rich and going to be richer than my father ever was in a year if it keeps up. I am an immortal pod pilot and I know no borders in this cluster. I am more free than any other class of human being.

"But that motherfucker down there shot my brother. I had to sell him without his permission into corporate slavery to save his life, and while he's doing great now you never know when some bullshit mid level bureaucrat is going to get pissed at him and he finds himself working 16 hour shifts of hard labour in a Nocxium mine.

"My brother's pelvis is artificial and he will forever walk with a limp; he's scarred from plasma burns and has to use a device to talk above a whisper. He will never know the love and body of a good woman because of me and because of that piece of shit down there."

"You're young still, you'd be surprised at what a good woman would love," she interjected. "Does your brother know you are here planning for revenge on his behalf." I didn't answer. "That's what I thought."

"It doesn't matter," I said hotly. "That man shot my brother nearly killing him. As far as I'm concerned, that cannot be forgiven and forgotten."

I held her gaze for a few seconds, waiting for her to tell me to forget it or to be fired from the corporation. I was ready for it; Rusack was finally in my grasp and nothing would deter me.

She sighed resignedly and said, "All right. But let's get out of here before he recognizes you or me and figures out something is up. We need to plan and we can do that on the capsuleer decks where he won't run into us by chance."

I was shocked. "You are going to help me? Wait, what do you mean he might recognize you too?"

"Rusack is one of our regular contacts for IPRC for doing business in Stacmon and Slays. When we need stuff through customs without extra scrutiny, we use him. However, he is just a small time crook that is easily replaced by any one of a dozen sleazebags we have to do business with occasionally. But a pod pilot as passionate and loyal as you? That's worth keeping."

"Come on," she said standing up and grabbing the noise canceler off the table. The flood of music slammed into me and I finished my drink and follower her out. I spared one last glance back at Rusack enjoying his friends and swore under my breath that his days of enjoying his life were numbered.

Obligatory New Avatar Post

Click for 512x512 goodness!

Since its all the rage...

I tried to keep the same feel of the new Kirith Kodachi, an angry man who is slightly broken and haunted by his past. I also found some time to do Korannon and Korneilia but don't have the images here, probably post all the rest of the crew once complete.

I find it amusing how much people are enjoying making characters and the variety of avatars even with the horribly limited number of clothing options and extra options not available yet. I miss Kirith's big scar for example, or the metal face implants Korannon has.

Oh well.

Also, got two of Korneilia's four extraction planets reconfigured, hopefully do the rest tonight. I upgraded the command centres to hopefully increase extraction rates. MOAR ISK!

I Don't Even

I haven't been in game longer than seconds since BMTHOKK on Monday night. This is due primarily to not downloading the patch until I got home from work and then being busy all night with the video editing of the Fraps clips I got from the event. I figured I should take care of that before I lost the night to character avatar creation.

In game, I did the big move of all my stuff to our staging area using the original Ninveah carrier and the Shaitann Wyvern. Since my alt has her jump drive skills up to snuff I was able to jump them together with Kirith being the bodyguard in the Ninveah since the alt's skills in energy and shield transfer, not to mention no drone skills at all, are not up to par.

It was four ninja jumps through quiet low sec systems, and only once did the cyno get investigated by a local. When I jump in both the carrier and supercarrier peel off in a random direction from the cyno and cloak up. In this one case an Absolution command ship warps in at 100 to the cyno and started closing. I figured the cyno ship was dead but didn't care, I was more concerned about him decloaking the capitals. I tried to throw him off by logging the chimera out so he could see it e-warp off and think that was all, but he stayed around and at one point came within 15 km of the cloaked super capital ship. Another ship arrived at range, a Hurricane, and they looked like they were not friendly to each other. Eventually both left and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Now I need to get my clones up to the North and get deployed in null sec again before my directors come around with the metal hockey stick wondering why I'm lazing about in Tehskat still.

BMTHOKK Video

Uploaded to Eve Files: http://dl.eve-files.com/media/1101/BMTHOKK.wmv (140megs)

It was my first attempt at using Fraps and editing video so the quality is not great, but it gets across the feel of the event I think.

No podcast this week as I used up all my free time in the event and editing the video. Consider the vid to be this week's episode.

Bring Me The Head Of Kirith Kodachi - Report

Announced by ISD

 I logged in my alt Kla'strit a little after 8pm and started to organize the two channels I setup for the attackers and defenders, BMTHOKK Attackers versus BMTHOKK Defenders. I arrived in Teshkat and saw local already approaching 80 with Noir Mercenary Group already present.

I spent the next half and hour fielding questions, getting some of the attackers organized into a fleet which I referred to as the Kitchen Sink Attack Fleet, and watched local climb over one hundred, then one hundred and fifty. Looks like we got ourselves a rumble.

Finally at 8:59 I logged in the Chimera, already in space to avoid an undocking incident, and warped to the chosen location: Planet IX Customs Office. I picked it because it was situated close to a Terran planet on the sunny side, making a great backdrop for the videos I was going to take. As I entered warp I announced the location in local, Ninveah channel, and both attackers and defenders channel. I landed and soon after a few frigates showed up and began targeting me. The fight was on.

Click to Embiggen!

Unfortunately for the attackers, Noir was in a tight fleet with Drakes and Basilisks and well led. They started picking off targets and would have been a tough fight for the attackers by themselves, but a second sizable defending fleet warped in from the Gallente Hero Channel. While several groups of attackers tried valiantly to dispose of my ship I was never in any danger and only repped myself once during the next 40 minutes. There was some confusion when I got Global Criminal Countdown and a repping logi ship in the Gallente Hero Channel fleet was targeted by Noir because he was flashing red, but quick communications between the FCs smoothed things over.

At 9:40 it was obvious no big attacking hot dropping force was waiting in the wings. I congratulated the defenders on a stellar job (including bringing in a triaged Archon carrier for repair support!) and then asked them to kill me. I came to die, and to the victors go the capital killmail. The defenders turned their weapons on me as requested and I activated Shield Booster, Smart Bombs, and watched as the firepower poured in. In minutes it was all over.

I was podded quickly and realized I had forgotten to change my clone location. Instead of still being in Teshkat I was in S9X in Providence with nothing but an Ibis! WTF? At least I could still upgrade my clone quality.

The winners of the prizes:
- Felix Dcat for most damage: Gila cruiser.

- Lynn Seed for final blow: Navy Armageddon

- Frozen Fallout for pod killmail final blow: Navy Slicer

I'm still collating killboards and killmails but trying to determine who got the most in the event is insane. If you think you are a candidate, please email or post a comment with a link to your killboard stats!

I got a good amount of video which I'm going to try and put into a couple minute video for posting over this week or so.

So was it a success? Overall definitely. I do wish it was a little more even in terms of attackers versus defenders, but it was hard to predict if someone was going to go "all in" and hot drop a few hundred man fleet on the event. Had that happened, it was possible that the defenders could have been wiped out to great cost. Still, I think people had a good time and judging by the reported carnage, and there was no shortage of kills to get in on.

Take that Amamake!

Finally props to CCP. I asked for a reinforced node and during the whole event with brackets on, full effects on, I had no noticeable lag. I was activating mods easily, deploying and recalling drones constantly, and never once had issues.

Here are some reports from around the interwebs.

From Diary of a Space Jockey by Cozmik R5, who I personally targeted and attacked near the end when I saw his Thorax on the overview:

All in all this was an awesome event to be a part of. Many congratulations are in order: To Kirith Kodachi for his 6 years of blogging, his hosting and organizing of the event and for being an awesome sport. To Alekseyev Kaarde and Noir Mercenary Group for 3 years of operation and living up to the name of "honor guard". To my corpmate Felix Dcat for putting AMC and MAPU right on top of the damage board. To all the other winners which I don't remember right now and can't check because my work's firewall is too stupid (no worries, I will edit the post as soon as I get home). To Goonswarm for not disappointing for being your crazy selves. And finally to everyone who showed up, sometimes leaving far-away Null-sec homes just to get a crack at Kirith. Both fleets had people who are usually enemies flying together and generally having an awesome time. I would also like to personally thank the guy who stepped up as FC on the attacker side; I may not like huge fleets and 0.0 blobs but when stuff needed to get done he got it done faster than I've seen in some 10-man fleets.

Read the whole battle report on his blog.

dangman4ever said in the comments of last post...

Good times. May have lost a bomber but got on 8 great killmails, one of them a certain carrier :)

Apex on Lost In Eve forums:

Just finished with the event. Guess I will give a breakdown on how it went for me.

-Initial fleet went up and those of us in the attacker channel started joining. In our fleet we maxed at about 50 ppl if I remember correctly. Local hit 212 just before event started.

-Event started and one of our guys got a warp in on Kirith's carrier. We warped in at range. I had bombers warp in on me at greater range.

-S*** hit the fan. We started losing people left and right as we were extremely outnumbered. Lag was there but very manageable for those with higher end PCs. Although even then it claimed some victims, my friend lagged out and was promptly podded.

-We said "screw the carrier" and began warping out. I warped to a planet (I was in a Manticore) and found a neutral raven sitting along side me. I called the raven over comms and fleet began warping to me. Raven went down.

-We then had more neutrals warping in who were fleeing the fight or just warping around. We quickly decided to spread out to planets and have people call out when they had a tackle on someone. We basically did this the majority of the 30 minute event timer as it was pretty fun. A couple guys got hero tackles and made it out in structure. I think one guy actually made it with only 14% structure left by the time we killed the ship he was pointing. Here is a short list of ships that died from our planet roaming. (These are just the ones I got on that have been reported up to this point. There are many more.
Arbitrator
Brutix
Eagle
Blackbird

-We eventually got reports that the carrier was taking serious damage and if you wanted to whore onto the kill mail now was the time. (Note: at this point the 30 min timer was up) I warped to a fleet mate who had point on the carrier. I got a single volley off before going pop. A Manticore for a Chimera km, I think that is a fair trade.

-Carrier went down.

Overall it was a really fun time. It was my first ever large fleet op. And I was glad I thought ahead of time and set my overview to only show those not in my fleet as the majority of my fleet mates were red. Also, there was a lot more coordination than I thought there would be. Voice comms were generally clear with not too many people talking over each other. We also responded well to calls for support when someone got a point on a neutral.

Nateryl on Lost In Eve forums:

I was in the attacker fleet but unfortunately apex, my little incursus went down in the first 5 min. It was a blast to listen to the voice comms for the next hour as you guys kept getting random tackles. This was a great event and glad I showed up but I wish I got to see more of it My first fleet fight of that size so it was fun and exciting to see.

Nice job Kirith, and an awesome turnout and cool way to bring the Eve community together for explosions and kill mails

From Scrapheap Challenge...

GreenYoshi:

Cool event. No capital opposition to the carrier, though one friendly Archon was dropped on the field. The attackers weren't coordinated enough, and the defenders had a ton of reps. There was some infighting between the defenders when logistics went flashy to rep Kirith's Chimera, but nothing overwhelming. At 2:33, defenders held the field, and Kirith requested that we (the defending fleet) destroy the Chimera. I think the count in system was around 250 with almost no lag at the apex.

Thanks for doing this, Kirith. Bit of a blob fest, but still fun (for me) in the end. Congrats on your 2000th post.

And Marko Box:

Fun event, some1 should organize this more ofthen
We came there in suicide thrashers/blackbirds warped in to main fleet to km whore, then we lost half of fleet, reshiped and then spent the evening warping from planet to planet poping random stuff. Much lolz where had
Congratz kirith on the 6 years of bloging, i hope you will repeat this with mothership once u hit the 10 year mark

 AkJon Ferguson on Eve Online forums:

Great event. A little one-sided, but everyone was expecting a hot-drop so it's hard to blame Noir. for bringing so much logistics. Nice job, Kirith.

Serenity One :

Thanks Kirith, That was awesome fun!

 * * * * *
If anyone else has reports, please link them in the comments! Thanks to everyone, the video hopefully will be coming soon (TM).

Bring Me The Head Of Kirith Kodachi Live Event TONIGHT

Tonight is the big night. One way or another, my Chimera must die. The prizes must be awarded. My pod must be cracked.

A lot of pilots have stepped up to offer support so I have some concern that the attackers will be woefully outnumbered, but I have plans in place to ensure that the prizes will be awarded. Some of the groups offering support:

- Noir Mercenary Group is celebrating their anniversary and will be giving me a honour fleet for defence.

- Franklen of Tactical Support Solutions will be there with some friends.

- Acinom of Not A Lot Of News Newshour podcast will be there to make sure no rogue asteroids threaten me.

- Members of the Gallente Hero Channel have vowed some serious support (with rumours of capital support?!)

- A few m3 Pilots left behind clones and ships after the evac to the North.

- Slootha of Saiph Industries is coming and is offering to donate a prize for " the corp/individual adding up it's total damage off of the Killmail and having that number be higher than any other corp or individual." The prize was impressive so hopefully some hostiles show up to claim it!

In order to help coordinate the myriad forces arrayed for my defence and for the destruction of the Chimera, I've created two new public channels: "BMTHOKK Defenders" and "BMTHOKK Attackers". Ideally we would have everyone in two fleets but the logistics of that may be problematic to setup, so these channels will allow some coordination, especially for smaller groups and individuals to team up.

I will be setting up a fleet myself and any defenders are welcome to join it. Used the BMTHOKK Defenders channel to 'x' up. We will make use of Eve Voice in the BMTHOKK Defenders channel if you wish.


I will be announcing the exact location once I am in place in all the channels including local. You will NOT need to be in a fleet to warp to me, nor will you need to probe me out.

Finally, I kindly ask that any defenders operate under a NRDS policy in the hour before and during the event. A lot of observers and non-combatants may be coming to the event and I'd like to avoid a free-for-all on them until their intentions are known.

See you in space!

Helllllllllllllo FCON

Yep, m3 Corp is gone North again.

FCON was one of the options that came up when we were leaving RAGE and was my first choice. When it became obvious that we were floundering in Providence and CVA it was suggested that the larger overall infrastructure, stability, and fleet options offered by the north might allow us to rejuvenate and get back on track. So far, it seems to be working as enthusiasm has crept back into corp chat and forums. We feel that FCON might be a better fit for us than RAGE was and I'm looking forward to getting the Wyvern back in action.

This weekend I made the move to our staging area in Gallente space and just this morning our application went through.

Only one last thing to take care of in Tash Murkon...

So Long CVA

So m3 Corp left CVA last night. Most assets had been moved out of Providence in the past week which is why I had no "action reports" lately. I was making many jumps from our base in S9X to low sec and didn't want to compromise operational security any more than necessary. We already have a new home lined up and we're in the process of staging for gaining entrance to the alliance in a few days or less.

The experiment in CVA for us failed for a number of minor reasons that could have been overcome by themselves but in aggregate proved too much. Ultimately the most damaging factor was internal with real life decimating the leadership ranks of the corporation and the remaining directors and XOs getting burnt out trying to keep everything going in the meantime.

So we are taking steps to spread the load and get back to running smoothly, including myself starting to do some FCing in small fleets for gate camps and stuff to get more experienced and offer some PvP in quiet nights.

As for CVA, I won't say much other than to say there are some people really trying hard to make it work and there were flashes of "old glory" (for lack of a better word) here and there. But overall CVA is still emotionally scarred from last year's eviction at the hands of AAA and friends and there is a fundamental resistance to move wholesale into Providence and fight for it. This would be OK if the alliance was not hell-bent on planting TCUs on every exposed system in Providence. The two mindsets cannot coexist and one has to give or the alliance is doomed. We tried to lead the charge into Providence and committed the corp and its membership wholesale to S9X, but in the end it was not enough.

Despite the frustrations, I wish CVA well. There are some good people in there fighting for what they believe in and perhaps in time they will get the success they strive for.

Guest Fiction: Recursion

The following is a guest post exclusive from CCP Headfirst.

The story, which focuses on Incursion, introduces four new characters you may have seen in several advertisements and PC Gamer magazine before

Enjoy!
* * * * *
“First wing, follow me in!” Jenlura would know the voice of her taskforce leader anywhere, from across a crowded mess hall or through the confusion of a communications channel during a hectic battle. It was one of the latter cases when she heard Commander Renseel issuing orders to the rest of his group, which included her. She brought her Rupture-class cruiser in alignment with his and began the reloading cycle on her heavy missile launchers.

The battle raged in every direction; anywhere one looked out into space, there were Sansha ships, large and small. They flew in formations when not engaged and clouded around individual targets when the hive mind that controlled them chose the next victim. With most of the Republic Fleet taskforce destroyed, Lieutenant Jenlura Taron knew she was one of the few pilots left with a functioning ship. With a thought, she informed Commander Renseel that she was ready.

“This isn’t going to be easy, Lieutenant,” he stated in a private communication, which was rare for him to do during battle.

Responding before thinking, she assumed he was making reference to her abilities, “We’re going to give them something to think about the next time they plan on invading Minmatar territory, sir.”

After a brief silence on his end, Renseel went on as though she hadn’t replied. “It’s a good squad, part of a good taskforce. They’ll continue serving with honor.”

“Sir?” Before she could continue, Jenlura’s scanner chirped to life with additional contacts.

Switching back to the channel that would disperse his orders to the entire wing, Renseel shouted, “Primary target is that super carrier! Weapons free!” As missile flares and projectile tracers lit up the space between the formation of Minmatar ships and the spiked hull of their target, he pulled up sharply and angled his battle cruiser so it would block a reinforcement wave of Sansha ships coming to the carrier’s aid. “I’ll take care of these bastards, the rest of you continue firing.”

The data streaming in through her neural interface told her what she already knew; he was outnumbered and wouldn’t be able to do much good against the oncoming wave before his ship was destroyed. Just as Jenlura was about to open a new private channel and ask if he needed any assistance, he reopened his channel to her.

“They won’t be able to promote you to commander without a formalized tribunal, Jenlura,” she was caught off guard by his informal tone and use of her first name, “but everyone knows you’re perfect for the job.”

“What are you talking about, sir? Those Sansha reinforcements, do you need-“

“Don’t worry about them,” he said, his voice still calm despite the pounding his Hurricane-class battle cruiser was enduring. “When I’m gone, you need to convince them to redeploy the taskforce in a more offensive role, do you hear me?”

“When you’re gone? Commander Renseel, I don’t understand…”

“Jenlura, I’m not coming back.”

A cold shiver ran up her spine, but she hoped for the most reasonable explanation. “You’re retiring?” The pause before his next response was intolerable, so much so that she missed a few opportunities to cycle ammunition more efficiently while firing on the Sansha super carrier.

Finally, when his ship was nearly devoid of any remaining defensive shields, he spoke quickly, “All of my clones are offline, Jenlura. This is my last battle.”

“What? Commander Renseel, confirm: You have no active clones?” It was too much for her; she turned so sharply that she almost scraped across the super carrier’s hull as she changed direction to close the distance to him. “Commander?” Her afterburner ignited, which drew her ship’s contrail out into a bright red ribbon through space.

“It was Abudban, that’s where I’m from, remember?” He was losing control of most of his ship’s functions; Jenlura could see burning fragments of the Hurricane’s hull leaving a glittering wake behind it.

“Yes, I remember you mentioned your family to me once,” she tried to focus on locking the targets that were still firing on him, but there were so many that she ended up just shooting at whatever Sansha ship came into range first. “Don’t do this, Commander. Warp out now!” His ship showed no signs of altering course; its functional auto cannons continued firing as the ship began to list without engine power.

“They were taken by the Sansha. There’s nothing left for me.” He inhaled slowly, which came across the communications channel as a crackling rasp. Something was wrong with his capsule’s biological connectors; its integrity was likely compromised as well. “I’m through.”

“Sir, I-“ was all she managed to get out before her scanner erupted with activity. A second wave of Nightmare-class battleships had just appeared on the outskirts of the field, bringing their total numbers well above what the Minmatar taskforce was equipped to deal with. She knew she didn’t have long and that Renseel had even less time before what remained of his ship was destroyed.

“Tell me you’re ready for this, Jenlura. Tell me you’re ready to do everything you can to stop the Sansha.” It was difficult to hear him with all the static caused by laser weapons carving his ship into pieces.

Over the primary taskforce channel, the Minmatar high command was barking something about reorganizing the fleet to deal with the Sansha battleship reinforcements. She toggled over to the broadcast line and shouted, “Fuck off!”

Gritting her teeth as she convulsed in her pod, Jenlura somehow managed to speak slowly and clearly, “I’m ready, sir.”

“Thank you.” A sudden flash of light indicated that his reactor had gone critical, exploding in a violent burst of nuclear energy. The private channel went silent, save for the low background hum of ambient interference.

She watched the spot where his ship had been until the very last of the glowing debris burnt out and vanished among the other wreckage of the battlefield. Jenlura had never watched a capsuleer truly die. She didn’t even react when the Sansha fleet selected her as its next target, disintegrating her ship around her.

The next thing she knew, the slimy green fluid of the reconstitution tube was draining down past her face and a technician was helping her step out onto the medical bay’s icy floor on her new clone’s untested legs. She hadn’t even had a chance to put on clothes or dry off when an impatient looking Brutor tribe representative marched up and tossed her a data chip with new orders and commission insignia, which bore the rank of taskforce wing commander.

* * *

“Sir, shields are down to seventy-three percent from that constant barrage of laser fire. If we don’t get help soon, outer defenses will be down within the hour.” The bridge of the starbase was alive with activity, with personnel racing in all directions and display screens flashing image after image of menacing looking Sansha’s Nation ships attacking from all angles.

The officer of the watch, a narrow-faced Gallente sergeant named DuVemm, opened the public broadcast channel once again. “I repeat, all non-essential personnel, disembark at once. The Federation Navy has established a secure perimeter just beyond the docking ring, allowing for safe warping away from the station. I cannot guarantee how long this will last, so leave while you still can.”

“Sergeant DuVemm,” a young ensign seated at the space traffic controller’s station chirped, “we have incoming.”

Unable to believe that, in the middle of an all-out assault on the station, someone would bother telling him that a new contact had arrived on the magnetometric sensors, DuVemm stared at him blankly. “What? Of course we have incoming! It’s a goddamn war!”

“No, sir, I mean we have a docking request. Ares-class interceptor, standard transponder code, cargo is empty except for some hybrid ammunition… it’s a capsuleer, sir.”

“Why the hell would-“ the sergeant began, but cut himself off when he realized no one would be able to answer his question and he probably didn’t want them to anyway. After wiping one hand across his sweating forehead, he buttoned up the collar of his uniform and stomped over to the lift entrance.

“Sir?” The traffic officer sounded like he was about to panic.

Just before the doors closed behind him, DuVemm answered, “Just keep cycling the shield hardeners as the primary capacitor allows and let the navy worry about the Sansha. I’ll deal with this visitor personally.” The rest of the bridge crew exchanged confused glances before ducking back into their tasks.

A few short minutes later, he was standing outside one of the more luxurious captains’ quarters the CeroDron Corporation provided its esteemed guests, including all capsuleers. The holographic display above the doorjamb read ‘Arete Benset’ in shimmering letters. His finger was centimeters from the call button when a lyrical voice wafted through the intercom speaker. “Come in.”

The internal workings of the secure portal took a few seconds to unlock, but then the thick metal door swung inward on noiseless hinges, revealing an ostentatious, almost gaudy apartment beyond. Gallente hospitality was famous throughout the cluster, and for good reason. Plush white carpeting covered the entire floor of the split-level apartment, while thickly-padded couches rested against each opposing wall and an angular chandelier made from electrified plasma crystals hung from the ceiling, bathing the room in a gently quivering aqua light. The far wall was dominated by a wide bay window that overlooked one of the station’s many private hangars, at the center of which the Ares-class interceptor hung motionless.

None of it was of any interest to DuVemm, however, as his eyes were hypnotically transfixed on the elegantly shaped, completely naked woman standing across the room, her back to the door as she busied herself drying her startlingly bright red hair with a towel. “I hope you don’t mind,” she began coyly, “but I’ve been in that pod all day.” She peeked over one shoulder and smiled, “Please, have a seat.”

Sergeant DuVemm almost stumbled over the single step between him and the nearest couch, where he managed to compose himself long enough to sit down and conjure a relaxed posture. He watched her finish with her hair and slip into a fine silk robe, tied loosely at the waist, before dull rumble rolled through the apartment, reminding him that they were still in the middle of a battle raging beyond the station’s hull. “I was hoping you’d be back, but this isn’t really the best time, Arete.”

Taking a seat at the opposite end of the couch, she spent a moment crossing her legs and pulling her damp mane to the side, away from the metal implant sockets running down the back of her neck. “This isn’t a social call, Edmond.” Her smile vanished. “I’m only staying for half an hour, and when I leave, your station sensors are going to be offline. Considering what you owe me, I don’t think this is an unreasonable request.”

DuVemm’s face soured and he looked away. “They’ll have my head for this.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she quipped, adding, “it’s only going to cost you a promotion or two, that’s all.” She crossed her legs in the other direction as she shifted in her seat to face the hangar window, casually looking out at her ship. “It’s a shame isn’t it, this Sansha’s Nation business.”

Her mention of the invading fleet, along with another distant thud against the station’s shields as it absorbed yet another impact, brought DuVemm back from daydreaming about his potential termination and subsequent unemployment. “That’s exactly what it is to you, isn’t it? Business. We both know you’d never be able to pull off a stunt like this if it weren’t for those cybernetic zombie armadas showing up all over the place.”

She didn’t even bother to look back at him, deciding instead to let her obvious sarcasm do the work. “Oh, Edmond. I’ve got a job to do, products to deliver and customers to appease. What am I supposed to do, put everything aside until this whole affair evaporates?”

“Arete, you should be out there helping us! You’re a goddamn capsuleer! Do you know how much good it would do, good for all Federation citizens, to have another interceptor with a skilled pilot at the helm out there?” He rose to his feet and approached the window, standing with his hands clenched behind his back. “Hell, I bet you could turn the tide of the battle out there right now. Just a few minutes of your immortality could save thousands of lives.”

He stood there for a short while, waiting for a response that never came, before letting himself out. Standing there in the doorway, he stared at the floor and spoke softly. “The sensors will be offline for the next hour.”

After the door had closed, Arete reached down slowly and retrieved a curved glass from the end table adjacent to the couch. She brought it up to her mouth, just close enough for the strong, sweet alcohol inside to numb her lips, but didn’t take a sip. As another subtle vibration passed through her room, she set the glass back down again.

* * *

Odanar could hear his pulse in his ears despite the fact that all of his senses were being overridden by the capsule’s sensor system. Maybe it was just his imagination, some kind of muscle memory, but he twitched in the inertial fluid slightly as he tried to keep his attention on the stargate hanging in space nearby, only a few kilometers from his Merlin-class starship.

The rest of his alliance’s strike force twinkled in reflected starlight all around, almost fifty ships in all, most of them much larger than his little frigate. A single word from their fleet commander and every ship would simultaneously activate the gate, instantly leaping light years through deep space and arriving at the neighboring star system, where recon vessels had already told them an enemy fleet was waiting. It was war in the lawless periphery, grand strategy and clever surveillance culminating in a savage, chaotic battle involving hundreds of ships.

Almost everyone was calm and professional except for Odanar Honuken, who had only joined the alliance a week before. His lack of higher skills and enthusiasm for battle had resulted in an obvious assignment: tackling. Chasing down and warp scrambling enemies required daring pilots in small, fast, and most importantly, cheap ships, as they were not expected to last long. It was a role he didn’t mind at all; volunteering for dangerous, dirty, and inglorious work was the best way for him to impress his superiors and earn a higher rank in the corporation. His mind had just started to wander when an authoritative voice broke through on the fleet channel.

“Jump.”

For a fraction of eternity, Odanar’s consciousness was split between two gravitational wells several light years apart, then the peaceful, empty void on one end was suddenly replaced with the mass melee of lasers, missiles, and violent explosions in all directions. A moment later, just after his frigate rematerialized near the destination stargate, his afterburners were blasting out a wake of ionized exhaust, propelling the Merlin to over a thousand meters per second.

The augmented reality overlay provided by the implants in his head, which were connected to the starship’s gravimetric sensor array, were receiving information directly from his squadron leader, a seasoned veteran herself. She had already lined up his first target, a Thorax-class cruiser escorted by a cloud of vicious drones. Odanar locked his targeting systems onto the larger ship and careened into an orbital pattern, careful to maintain a speed beyond what the cruiser’s turrets could effectively track.

When his stasis webifier and warp scrambler were activated and had his target effectively immobilized, he let his squadron leader know. “He’s all locked up, let him have it!” Before he had even finished the statement, dozens of brilliant golden laser beams lanced through the darkness and cut the Thorax clean in half, after which it was enveloped in a brilliant azure explosion. Odanar cheered vocally over the communications channel for a few seconds before he realized that no one else was celebrating.

“Evasive maneuvers!”

“Pull back from the gate!”

“More are coming through! Get back, get back!”

When he turned his attention to see what was happening, his heart leapt into his throat. A steady stream of ships were emerging from the stargate, many more than his alliance had fielded for the battle. What concerned him most, though, was that all of the ships looked more or less alike: bulbous, spiked, rust-colored vessels covered in laser turrets. It wasn’t another alliance or any local faction; it was Sansha’s Nation. The communications channel was a nearly incoherent jumble of panicked shouting.

“What are they doing here?”

“They’re engaging all targets!”

“All ships, return through the gate!”

“I’m scrambled! Need backup!”

“They’ve got me locked; my weapons are unresponsive!”

When over a dozen frigates, several cruisers, and even a few Sansha battleships all locked onto his Merlin, Odanar knew his shields wouldn’t last long against their onslaught of electromagnetic laser weapons. He overheated his afterburners and hoped speed would keep him around long enough to be of some use, but the sheer amount of firepower coming from the Sansha fleet carved him and the rest of his allies into smoldering wrecks in just a few agonizing minutes. Few escaped back through the stargate, and from what he heard over the neocom, they didn’t last long against the even greater Sansha force on the other side.

Odanar’s capsule drifted amid the shattered remains of two fleets, his and the one his alliance had come to conquer. When the last of the fires had dissipated into the vacuum of space, the Sansha invaders reorganized themselves with uncanny precision, forming into eerily symmetrical ranks and warping en masse towards the nearest planet. Odanar watched them go and, while local channels overflowed with emergency broadcasts and desperate calls for information, all he could do was watch and wait.

* * *

“For the record, would you please state your name, sir?” Although he was a tiny man by any standards, the court administrator’s voice echoed around the spacious chamber with authority. He stood at rigid attention behind the ornate wooden podium, reading lines from his prompter without looking up.

Across a wide expanse of intricately carved marble tile floor from him, the defendant stood on a low stage made from waist-high railings, adorned only in a dignified prisoner’s robe. The capsuleer implant slots on his skull were clearly visible due to his clean-shaven head, while his piercing blue eyes glared at the administrator in contempt. He held his fists out in front of him, wrists together, with a length of silk cord laid over them, symbolic of ancient shackles that were used to restrain prisoners in ancient times. When he spoke, his deep voice commanded the attention of the hundreds of attendees, holders, officers, and politicians all, seated in rows behind him. “Commodore Aerkon Verriam, third wing commander, Kador region defense fleet.”

The administrator raised his head slightly, just enough to peer at the defendant from over the podium. “Formerly,” he corrected.

Aerkon turned his head away and did not respond.

“Also,” he continued, “for the duration of this court martial, you will hereby be referred to by the temporary rank of ‘pilot,’ do you understand?” When he still refused to respond, the administrator repeated himself. “Pilot Verriam, do you understand this protocol?”

“I understand that it is just that, your honor: protocol.” His lack of respect for the court could not have been expressed more obviously or bitterly, a tone that was not lost on the judge, court personnel, or the aisles of spectators, who began to whisper among one another. “I also understand that no members of my fleet have been permitted to testify on my behalf, is that correct?”

“The Kador defense fleet has been redeployed, so obviously none of those pilots will be available for your defense.” He tapped a few times at his display and smirked. “I highly doubt anything they say would aid you, anyway.” Another murmur from the crowd spread like a wave through the chamber.

“Then let’s get this over with.”

“As you wish,” the court administrator replied. “Let the record show that Pilot Verriam, present at this time and in a clear state of mental health, stands accused of the following crimes against the Empire: insubordination, treason, and mass murder.”

Cries of anger and despair rose behind him as Aerkon’s jaws clenched.

Shouting above the commotion, the judge struggled to be heard, “Order! There will be order in this hearing at once!” When it was clear that none of the high ranking people there would obey him, he continued to yell his lines, “Pilot Verriam, these are your crimes; how do you plead?” Abrupt silence cut off all conversation in the room, with a collective breath taken in to hear the defendant’s response.

Aerkon took a single step forward and lifted his chin. “Innocent.”

The resulting uproar lasted for several minutes, all of which the administrator spent slamming his weighty, iron holy symbol against the podium, demanding order. Among the voices, several impassioned screams accused Aerkon of being everything from a traitor to a villain. When the noise subsided at last, the stout judge chastised him further, “This is outrageous! How can you refute these charges? We have visual evidence, ship logs, and witness testimonies by thousands. What say you, Pilot Verriam? Explain yourself!”

“What I did was an act of tactical importance,” he answered with confidence. “It is a matter of simple mathematics.”

“Yes, it is simple mathematics. You are responsible for the deaths of over three million Amarr citizens on Uanim Four and close to eight trillion credits worth of registered slaves and other property!” In a moment of zeal, the administrator had reached out over the front edge of his podium, looking as though he was about to crawl over it to get at the defendant’s throat.

Aerkon sneered in disdain at the administrator. “Are you aware of our enemy?”

“You’re in no position to be asking questions, Pilot,” the administrator retorted sharply. “You have claimed innocence of the charges levied against you. What is your defense?” He looked as though he was about to begin spitting his questions instead of enunciating them.

“Do you know what the Sansha do to abductees?” Before the judge or anyone else could cut him off, Aerkon tossed the ceremonial restraint cord off to the side like he was waving away a bothersome insect, drawing a shocked collective gasp from the crowd. The administrator’s face paled and he took reflexive step backwards, reacting as though he expected the accused man to dash across the room and physically accost him. His voice thundering above the ambient noise, Aerkon refused to be suppressed, “What you don’t understand, you miserable cur, is that those three million people only had two options: a quick, honorable death or a lifetime of tormented servitude as true slaves in Sansha’s Nation, servants to their twisted master. I’ve committed no crime against this Empire. Indeed, what I’ve done is struck a grievous blow against our most dangerous enemy.” He turned to face the crowd, completely ignoring the administrator, who was virtually frothing at the mouth with rage by that point. “The Sansha are a threat few of you yet comprehend. You haven’t seen the desperate battles, watched them swarm out of targeted wormholes using a technology beyond anything we possess. Their numbers are often so great that the silhouettes of their hulls block the local sun. They disintegrate our sturdiest ships in moments under concentrated laser fire. The worst part, however, is when they break through our lines and get to the surface of each terrestrial world.” He walked slowly as he spoke, stopping to rest his hands on the railing at the back of the stage so he could project to the entire crowd. “Every human being they take eventually returns at the helm of a capsuleer vessel. The Sansha are turning ordinary citizens into capsuleers in a matter of hours.” He surveyed the room from side to side, glaring at the startled faces staring back at him in horror. “Every battle costs us lives and resources, yet their armada grows each time.

“Pilot,” the administrator finally managed to interject, “your personal opinion of these matters is irrelevant!”

“If we would have listened to the Caldari reports after Kaaputenen, the Minmatar after Frarn, or the Gallente after Renyn, maybe we would have been better prepared. We didn’t, though, and now we’re stuck where we are, making difficult decisions like the one I had to make.” Aerkon swept an accusatory finger across the audience, “We should have a fleet laying siege to every True Power and True Creations starbase in the Stain region right now, but instead we sit and wait to suffer the next Sansha ambush. This weakness, this pathetic epoch of the once glorious Amarr Empire is your doing, all of you.” He pointed at the crowd and screamed, “I submit that the blood of those on Uanim Four, indeed of millions before and after that, is on your hands, not mine. You lacked the will to do what was necessary, so I had to.”

The administrator slammed his holy symbol down on the podium and shrieked at the top of his lungs. “I’ve heard quite enough! Pilot Verriam, for your crimes against the Amarr Empire, I hereby sentence you to death by public execution!” The gathered spectators went wild, spouting insults as they cheered in favor of the verdict. Aerkon bowed his head and folded his hands in front of him; in the commotion, no one could hear him whisper a brief prayer.

“Belay that ruling,” a powerful female voice ordered, echoing throughout the chamber from the main entrance before the tall, solid wood doors had even opened all the way. Elite foot soldiers, clad in thick body armor and carrying pulse laser carbines, rushed in to take up positions all the way down the main aisle of the auditorium. Striding in confidently as they did so, her flowing golden robes spreading out behind her, was a young, auburn-haired woman of staggering beauty. The entire room immediately fell silent. It was the Empress.

* * *

The cylinder had barely cleared of its previous occupant and was still clouded with scalding hot residual smoke when the breech shot back open. A belt of reinforced, flexible carbon fibers pulled from left to right, yanking the hollow shell out of the way so that the next round could slam into place, where it was immediately secured by a locking collar at the front and back of the chamber.

A fraction of a heartbeat after it had settled in, though, the back of the cylinder segmented near its center, sending a solid piston of polished steel slamming into the back of the round. The force of the impact, along with the crackling spark it caused upon touching the bullet, ignited the explosive gel contained inside. As each molecule of the heavy composite paste overheated, the atoms within shed their higher level electrons, which in turn heated up their neighboring particles, and so on in a chain reaction.

As the available space in the shell rapidly filled with a blistering inferno of hot gas, ripples of tension reverberated down the outer casing of the bullet, causing it to expand the last few millimeters between it and the cylinder’s wall. When there was no more room, the expansion could only press forward, where the only thing standing between it and the welcoming vacuum of space was a titanium sabot projectile.

Riding the wave of violent energy, the sabot shot down the spiral carved barrel, inheriting the spin that would set it straight on course with a stable centrifugal rotation. Each groove of rifling in the shaft let a small portion of the searing gas slip through as well, ensuring that the bullet was preceded by a brief shimmer of muzzle flash, nanoseconds before the round itself emerged into space.

As it left the weapon’s interior structure and passed beyond the rim of the barrel, the sabot shell split into several pieces that tumbled outwards in an even pattern while titanium canister round streaked silently through the darkness. It followed an identical bullet and a faction of a second later, it would be chased by another through the engine exhaust, dissipated explosive material, and twisted fragments of destroyed ships.

The bullet remained on course for the duration of its flight, speeding unimpeded through the void, lacking any gravity or atmosphere to slow its trajectory. Minmatar ships all around moved in slow motion, their piecemeal hulls looking even more fragile than usual without the speed that kept them out of harm’s way. Compared to them, however, the Sansha’s Nation vessels lingered in space as though sitting perfectly still, their spiked frames arrayed around the battlefield like brambles in a treacherous patch of forest undergrowth.

One such ship was steadily growing in size, getting closer and closer until the individual panels of its armored surface came into clear focus. Dents and cracks were already forming from where the bullet’s predecessors had scored hits, so by the time it arrived, the tile it connected with was already compromised. Piercing straight through, it sent chunks of tritanium in every direction as it bored deep into the substructure.

After penetrating almost a meter deep into the starship, the warhead’s internal sensor, a simple pressure gauge device, detected the sudden drop and subsequent boost in kinetic energy after clearing the outer bulkhead. A sensitive hermetic membrane tore apart, allowing two violently incompatible fluids to swirl together, which caused them to produce a rapid buildup of thermic pressure. The central recess that housed the liquid fuel pressed against an outer shell made from titanium fletchettes suspended in a breakaway foam cast.

Just as the tritanium slug had accumulated enough friction to overheat and transition into a liquid state, the chemical admixture burst outwards, releasing the fletchettes in every direction. They lanced through every nearby structure, ricocheted off of solid bulkheads, and shredded any crewmember unfortunate enough to be with its blast radius.

The destruction and mutilation it caused were just a fraction of what the full burst of fire from Jenlura Taron’s autocannon unleashed against the Sansha’s Nation fleet.

* * *

“Miss Benset,” the customs officer began dryly from the doorway, as though he had issued the statement that followed a hundred times already that day, “we’re ready for you now.” The soldier standing next to her moved to reach for her arm, but stopped abruptly when Arete shot him a spiteful glare. He decided to gesture towards the door instead, thankful that the capsuleer humored him and walked in without further protest.

“How long is this going to take?” She glided around to sit in one of the two chairs at the room’s single desk, folding her hands in her lap. Before he could respond, however, she explained, “I have other matters which require my attention.” She hoped neglecting to use his title during their conversation would be obvious.

The stuffy little office was the last place either of the two wanted to be, most evident by the fact that the customs officer didn’t even bother to sit down. “I have just a few more questions.”

“What’s still confusing you? You have my cargo and I’ve paid all of your fines. Why am I still here?” Arete examined her fingernails.

“I’d like to know where you were heading with that cargo.”

“You and I both know that’s not part of Federation contraband law, especially when it comes to capsuleers. I had something I wasn’t supposed to have, you caught me, and now you have it. As far as the law is concerned, we’re done here.”

“You’ll excuse the breech of protocol,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “and forgive my forwardness, but I’ve extensively researched our profile on you, Miss Benset.”

“And?” She actually looked up at him but her expression remained neutral.

He coughed, then proceeded. “According to our records, this is the most valuable load of illegal goods you’ve ever been caught with. We estimate the market value is easily over five hundred million.”

Arete frowned. “Are you boasting?”

“No, no, no,” he stuttered, “I was just curious about how you were caught.” He touched one finger to the tabletop and traced it sideways a few centimeters, prompting a holographic display of the local constellation to appear floating in the air above it. A series of red lines connected several glowing dots, illustrating a path through several stargates across the region. “First of all, your route isn’t optimal. Here,” he pointed, “you’ve gone nine jumps where here,” he moved his fingertip slightly, “you could have taken a different path and arrived at the same destination in just six.” He peered between the stars at her, “Any starship’s navigational computer would have automatically calculated the shortest route. Why did you choose to alter it?”

“I had other stops.”

“Not according to Federation station logs.”

“As you might have guessed, my employers often require me to make unscheduled, undocumented, and unmapped stops.” She reached out and gently placed one of her hands on the table; the second it detected a biometric signature that wasn’t on the list of approved station personnel, the holographic display winked out of existence.

The customs officer took a second to restructure his inquiry. “Yes, we’re well aware of your connections to the Serpentis Corporation and their usual activities. We’re also aware that you’re one of the region’s most elusive smugglers.”

“I cannot confirm those suspicions.”

“Of course not, I’m not asking you to. What I’d like to know, however, is how we caught you.”

Arete leaned forward in her chair to give her a better posture for her impending patronization. “I don’t know why I have to tell you this, seeing as you’re the customs officer and I’m the smuggler here, but Gallente territory has sensor networks, patrol vessels, and strict laws in place to deal with things of this nature.”

“You’ve been avoiding all of that for years, too. Why get caught now?”

Arete rolled her eyes and turned her head to the side.

“Alright, forget about why. Let’s talk about what.”

“I’m not sure I follow you.” Her mind drifted, or at least she tried to express that her mind was wandering away from the topic at hand.

“The Serpentis deal primarily in neural boosters and the like.”

“I cannot confirm those suspicions.”

“I don’t need you to.” He thought about activating the hologram again to show the charts, but reconsidered. “It’s widely known, especially to people like you and me.”

“Then why are we talking about it?”

“You know exactly why, Miss Benset.” He sat down finally, leaning in as though he wanted to share a secret with her or inspire her to do so with him. “We caught you with thousands of rounds of advanced hybrid ammunition, prototype missile warheads, and second generation combat drones.”

“Yes, and now they’re all yours. Congratulations.”

He ignored her attempt to change the subject. “So you carried obvious contraband in a slower ship – not your usual quick frigate – the long way through highly patrolled space, and you don’t seem to have surrendered a drop of sweat that it’s all been confiscated. Aren’t your employers going to be furious?”

“Probably, but I’ll deal with them when I’m done dealing with you. They have systems in place, preparations for unfortunate events like these.” She sat up straight and prepared to stand. “Speaking of which, are we done here?”

“Yes,” he admitted.

Arete rose and moved to the door, but he stopped her with a word.

“Wait.”

She sighed and paused. “Yes?”

“I just wanted to let you know that all that cargo, everything we found in your ship, is really going to help the Federation against the Sansha invasion.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, but didn’t say anything. Her face was a perfect mask of calm concealment.

He continued. “I wonder if – or I should say, I hope – that was your intent all along.”

Arete touched the door activation panel, but before she walked out of the room, she repeated herself one last time. “I cannot confirm those suspicions.” After that, she was gone.

* * *

It suddenly struck Odanar that he had never actually just listened to his ship sitting motionless in space. As far as he knew, his engines were always on full power, and for most of that time, his afterburners were lit up and overheated as well, which caused the hull of the little ship to vibrate so wildly that he could hear it through the shell of his capsule. Of course, there was also the fact that he was usually at the center of a furious battle and moments away from his ship disintegrating into burning fragments at any point in time.

“First interceptor squadron standby,” his new fleet commander whispered, unconsciously lowering her voice as their gang stat motionless just over a hundred kilometers from the stargate.

Odanar took a moment to double check his new weapon systems, which included three rocket launcher bays and an energy draining module he still wasn’t exactly certain how to properly use. Nevertheless, he was quite excited to test his new Crow-class interceptor in combat. It wasn’t long after he had informed his corporation’s management about his new skillset that they gave him access to the well-stocked hangar at their headquarters and told him to take anything he wanted. The moment he had laid eyes on the glistening onyx hull of the Crow, though, he had fallen in love, and that was before he had even gotten it up beyond 4,000 kilometers per second for the first time.

“Scouts report contact on the other side; it won’t be long now. Stay frosty.” The fleet commander chuckled into the communications channel, knowing it would draw smiles from the rest of the group. Her easygoing demeanor somehow made the waiting tolerable, even in the long, drawn-out chases that often took place during null-sec operations. “They won’t be expecting a rapid response, so we’ll have a few moments to catch them off guard. Use them.”

Each of the wing commanders acknowledged with a brief response. Right on cue the stargate came to life with a brilliant white glow flaring out in all directions as it received bundle of disorganized matter, then bent the laws of physics around space and time to reassemble it again into a fleet of hostile ships – a fleet of hostile Sansha’s Nation ships.

“Right on time,” the fleet commander chirped as the group’s engines all simultaneously exploded with jets of ionized particles. Odanar overheated his new microwarp drive and quickly raced out to the forefront of the fleet, locking onto the first Sansha vessel that came in range with his webbifier and scrambler. He didn’t need to hear the fleet commander’s orders, but her instructions excited him anyway. “Light ‘em up, boys.”

* * *

For what felt like an eternity to the court administrator and the defendant, the room was filled only with the sound of elegant clothes rustling as the hundreds of spectators lowered to their knees. Empress Jamyl Sarum marched forward down the aisle towards the podium, two of her guards following behind at a respectable yet protective distance. When she reached the center of the main floor, she stopped and pivoted to face the administrator, who cowered behind the podium as though he could avoid her notice.

“You are dismissed,” she said flatly, turning towards the crowd.

Rising up to stand on uncertain footing, the administrator whispered, “But, I…”

The Empress’ eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Behind her, the administrator froze, his hands curling into fists. His jaws clenched shut and he began to sweat profusely. Darting back and forth, his eyes broadcast an uncontrollable panic as he stumbled backwards away from the podium. When at last she pivoted around to glare at him, a gesture more powerful than the full broadside of any Amarr battleship’s laser cannons, he had already turned and bolted from the room in a desperate sprint.

“Aerkon Verriam,” she continued as though nothing had happened, “will not be executed.” With every pair of eyes in the room transfixed upon her, she moved over to the dais and made the slightest gesture in his direction. “Stand.”

Aerkon regained his feet and assumed a posture of rigid attention. “Yes, your majesty.” He averted his gaze out of respect, staring instead at the floor just in front of her.

“Be at ease, Commodore. You are no longer on trial here.” A sparkling bracelet of diamonds laid in various colors of precious metals caught the light with a dazzling brilliance as she swept her hand before her, indicating that her next statement was intended to address the crowd in its entirety. “Indeed, I was dismayed to discover that this trial was being conducted at all.”

As she launched into her scathing admonishment of the entire court, the empress paced around the stage, occasionally pausing to drain the life out of an individual spectator’s face by leveling her attention upon it for a brief but excruciating moment. “It saddens me to think that now, in a time of peril for our empire, a man would be forced to stand trial before his peers for his actions on its behalf. Commodore Verriam is absolutely correct; he alone had the wisdom to see what was necessary and the will to see it done. Who among you would have had the courage to do the same?”

There were no responses from the audience. Even if anyone had a valid reply, they would never dare to interrupt the empress, so her question ended up being rhetorical. Either way, she didn’t pause long enough for anyone else to speak anyway. “Before I arrived here, I met with the former commander for the Kador region defense fleet and relieved him of his duty. At that time, he chose to do the only honorable thing and take his own life, which saved me the trouble.”

She turned back to Aerkon, who steadfastly endured the weight of her focus. “Aerkon Verriam will replace him as fleet commander, effective immediately.” He didn’t even notice how close she had gotten to him until she added, in a somewhat softer tone, “Do you understand and accept this mandate?”

It was another rhetorical question and he knew it. “Entirely, your majesty.”

“You are dismissed, Fleet Commander Verriam.”

“At once, your majesty.”

When he had gone and the thundering echo of the doors closed behind him, Empress Jamyl Sarum stood alone before the mob of dignitaries, nobles, and officers. She sighed and rubbed her temples with her eyes closed, speaking softly and allowing the shape of the architecture to convey her voice to the farthest reaches of the chamber. “I believe it’s time we took inventory of our great empire’s aristocracy, as it appears to be experiencing a crisis of faith.”

While her bodyguards dispersed around the room, standing with rifles ready at the end of every row of pews, her eyes opened slowly, projecting a menacing glare. “Now tell me: Who is responsible for this trial?”

Incarna - The Razor's Edge

You have to admire CCP's daring if nothing else. A moderately successful space combat game and they are going to open up the completely unfamiliar interior of space stations with new technology, environments, and no actual game play? Very daring indeed.

They have a hard spot here. On one hand, they can't develop it into a full free standing game or feature because they are only building the basic architecture for the first iteration. On the other hand, you just know they are going to be pilloried for releasing a feature with limited game play and/or no relation to the current game. Their protestations that they are going to keep coming back to it fall on ears and hearts hardened by numerous areas of the game seemingly left in disrepair for years with no sign of revisiting.

They are walking on a razor edge with disaster (or at least bad press) on either side. Fail to release because they want to add more content and its a failure all round, but release and have the community pan it and they have to work extra hard to get good press.

I do not envy them their current position.

On the upside, the avatars in the new character creator are gorgeous so as long as Incarna has a bare minimum of functionality, such as a bar and some mini-games, it could hold water. But its a razor's edge, and a long climb back up if they fall into either side.