Heros of the Empire

I don't normally venture this far into the Amarrian Empire, but as I was here I did what I always do in a new place, hunt down the local bar. Now you may ask, a bar within the Eternal Empire? but yes, they do occur here. Of course they are not the hives of debauchery that you get across the other empires, it is almost a shame to refer to these palaces as bars, but palaces and bars they are, one and the same. I walk in through the entrance way, and am instantly stunned into motionless, the floor appears to pull away from me, deeper and darker than would seem possible, it draws the eye out to the walls where hanging tapestries rich in gold adorned with the vibrantly coloured crests of the local holding families stretch up into what has to be a projection of some kind. Dark purple clouds boil across the ceiling, swirling around the edges of the tapestries, muted lightning flashes across, hidden yet visible, a marvel it has to be said to rival even our own Crystal Boulevard.

The room was large and made it appear far emptier than it really was, small groups of Amarrians huddle around tables, the murmurs of their conversations float across the hall unintelligible, yet obviously solemn and serious. Considering the cosmopolitan cross section of most empires these days there is a remarkable monocultural vibe hanging in the air, other than a few Civire hanging with some of the groups who, I might add, are looking exceedingly out of place, there was only the Matari bar staff to hint at the fact the universe was not solely an Amarrian place. The Matari themselves did not appear to show any signs of their life of manual labour so I expect they were chosen for this duty from a young age. I initially consider that the Amarrians may have been trying to fool themselves into believing that all slaves serve under these conditions? A quick look at the local clientele would suggest that a large number of the patrons were far enough up the social ladder to be holders of some stature. Either way the Matari do not appear to be conductive to any kind of questioning, and as for asking the Amarrians I have no intention of getting deported quite so early in my trip.

I move across to the bar, and engage the proprietor in conversation, the old Amarrian is obviously weary of dealing with a foreigner operating alone as he spent a good 5 minutes inspecting my visa documents before allowing me to purchase a drink. Eventually though I start talking with him, I still have a report to file and as in any situation cluster wide, if you want to find something out go and ask a barman, they, for some unknown cosmic reason, know virtually everything. The old mans eyes light up at the question of knowing any stories I could tell the folks back home. He tells me he knows the story of a great warrior pilot, who took on mighty odds and came out victorious. Expecting a tale of some long dead Imperial general, probably back in the days pre-revolution, I give in and trying to feign interest I ask him to recount the tale. The old man grins a toothless grin at me, his eyes wander across the room and he croaks "why don't you ask her yourself", surprised I follow his gaze to a young lady who is lay along a couch at the far end of the room. Obviously guessing my disbelief he added, "You know capsuleers change bodies just as often as you or I change shirts, she may be  far older than you can imagine, although I wouldn't mention that to her, heh heh"

I gaze across at her and try to see a vicious space warrior, yet all I can see is a petite young Khanid lady perhaps in her early 20s, nothing particularly special about her you may suppose at first glance. She hasn't dressed particularly differently to other ladies I have seen, a simple full length dress mostly an intense satin black with a deep blood red bodice. It has to be said, an unusual colour choice for the bipolar Amarrian dress sense, usually vibrant rich colours or plain to the extreme. She does have a very large slaver hound lying at the foot of the couch, but then this is the Amarrian Empire where slaver hounds are popular pets.

It would seem I have been staring at her for a little too long, she has clocked me, and is returning my gaze with a sly smile that conveys no warmth whatsoever, her eyes gleam from beneath the unconstrained strands of her long black hair. The barman, unseen beside me half clears his throat "seems she likes you, I wouldn't keep her waiting." It appears I had completely missed whatever signal she had sent, but that the barman had picked up on, and I had been summoned to explain myself.

The girl kept her reclined position as I approached and sat opposite her, my new closer perspective had revealed one unusual aspect to her attire, peaking from beneath the hem of her dress were not a pair of close fitting heels as I had expected, but a pair of heavy duty combat boots. "Who are you, and what are you doing this far from home stranger?" her question, blunt and delivered quietly yet with a scathing force. I explain my search for stories and the barman's recommendation of asking her about great heroes of the Empire. The last phrase almost elicits a laugh from her, "hero of the Empire" she rolls the phrase around as if trying it on, "No, I don't think so, I may have worked for the Empire, I may even represent it, but I would not consider to wear such a title, I am independent. Yet stories of great battles, yes those I can give you." Her eyes seem to glitter, and a wicked grin creeps across her face.

She launches straight into a tale before I can begin to question her on anything about herself, and seeing the passion with which she talks, I do not dare interrupt her. "The first I heard of it" she began. "There was a general call to arms, at the time I was attached to a small band of renegades, small time trouble makers really, we based out in Pator right in the heart of the Matari Republic." She explained how a corpmate had become involved in a standoff over a container of ore, facing off against multiple opponents wanting backup before acting. "I raced to get my ship undocked faster, cursing the sluggishness of even the cruiser sized hull, knowing that at any minute something could spark or the whole thing could blow over, either way I would miss it. As I popped into system I was informed it was not over, thanking God for his blessings I kicked my Devoter into warp to the field of battle."

Watching her tell her tale, she appears proud, defiant and just about all the arrogant descriptions you can throw at the Amarrians, yet even though she fits them all I cannot seem to dislike her for it. "Arriving at the scene I found the fight yet to have materialised, but I got my first concrete evidence of the enemies strength, 2 cruiser class hulls, the Minmatar Bellicose and far more deadly Gallante Thorax, 2 Minmatar Thrasher class destroyers, 2 Rifter class frigates, and a Gallante Tristan. Quickly assessing their potential, and perhaps wanting to show off a little in front of my corp" her grin reappears again, "but I was younger back then, I like to showoff a lot more nowadays. Anyway, I decided that I was able to handle them, I believe I even mentioned a line involving being able to tank those muppets, whatever a muppet is" She seems totally absorbed in living the memories of this day, the words hastily shuffled into place to keep up with her racing mind.

"I took the can, and immediately my targeting computer went nuts, klaxons and warnings sounding off as 7 ships locked and began trying to destroy me, the cacophony of autocannons, blasters, missiles of various sizes, mixed with the slow ponderous ping as my systems locked each of the aggressors. 4 pulse laser batteries slowly twist and elevate to position, puring the righteous fury of pure energy across the vacuum of space into the thorax cruiser. Its shielding flickers ripples spread from the point of impact as it struggles to cope with the abuse it is receiving before too long however plumes of gas and flash frozen liquids are venting from numerous gashes burnt into the smooth hull. Its end is spectacular, the reactor core receives a hit, and in a flash the ship is vapourised. The bellicose both thrashers, a rifter and the tristian follow in quick succession, one rifter escapes. The devoter prowls among the wrecks then disappears into warp.

"What surprised me most was that after the Thorax went down the other ships did not leave, despite the fact the Devoter possesses some of the most powerful and specialised warp disruption technology it can only hold one ship down at a time." She leans back, broken from the spell of memories, twiddling with the long fluted glass she has long since drained of contents, switching to an analysis of the events she continues. "Although I destroyed them without mercy I have to respect them for staying to fight before an enemy that they obviously saw they could not beat. Part of that I learned later was due to a mis-identification of my ship, thinking I was flying a simpler version of the same hull they would have assumed an easy kill."

She lapses into silence, focuses directly onto me, raising her eyebrow, "So, does that fit your needs?" I assure her that it does, making my excuses I explain that I need to write up her tale and make for the exit. I can feel her eyes boring into my back all the way out.

I cant explain why, she seemed nice enough to talk to, yet your subconscious keeps tripping the fight or flight reaction an irrational paranoia not to take your eyes of her for fear of being ended in a horrific manor. The casual ease with which she described her many victories, death and destruction, all in a days work, I know combat pilots have to deal with this sort of thing, but she didn't so much as bat an eyelid.

I pack my bags soon after and move on to a different area of the Empire. Evil Incarn8, she only ever told me her callsign, fitting I feel, I shudder involuntarily despite the warmth of my cabin, the last thing I would want would be to end up in one of her tales.

Down to Earth (or some Earthlike planet anyway) with a bump.

A flicker of energy ripples across the bubble which forms the visible portion of the wormhole, A sole harbinger class battlecruiser emerges from its depths. Scarred and battered by its last month away from the daily maintenance provided within the station hanger bays the harbinger swings its bulk around and warps away.


An inglorious return perhaps, but nonetheless a valuable lesson learned, namely "Evil Incarn8 does not like 0.0 space".


Simple, blasphemous to many I would wager, yet the truth. Although I cannot place my finger on a reason or reasons why exactly I don't get "it", I can't even say I hated every second, the guys and gals I served with out there were great fun to be around. I shall recall a few instances I particularly enjoyed from my time out there before signing off to return to planning my next experiences.


On one of my first days out here, Simon decided we should go and meet the neighbours, wave the flag, a little light fraternisation as it were. So 5 of us set out in our battlecruisers to travel the 8 or so jumps to the nearest outpost we had docking access at. It was thrill I give you that, knowing that at any gate there could be a fleet a bubble and instant death, jumping in frantically screaming at the scanner to tell me I was safe and not yet to be blasted into atoms. To tell the truth when we finally arrived uneventfully at the outpost I was drained, the very thought of trying to appear upbeat optimistic and chipper to the locals was beyond me. I perused the local stores in an attempt at a little retail therapy shocked at both the lack of stock and the extortionate prices charged this far from a ready supply base. Not before too long we were called back to our ships for the return journey, another bout of paranoia and nerves were wasted on a quiet trip home. A pointless tale of a simple trip you may say, possibly yes, but for me it was my first fleet/gang manoeuvres in 0.0 sec space. Safe once more within the shimmering gossamer bubble of our floating home, I dropped from my pod crawled to the showers and fell asleep beneath its warming jets.


Most of the rest of my time was spent earning the right for our system to be awarded status for improved scanning systems for access to rarer asteroid fields or the more intricately hidden pirate bases. My harbinger proved itself well adept at dispatching the regular pirate patrols throughout the system, even once coming out on top verses one of the Angel Cartels junior officers in a top of the line Battleship.


Another highlight was when we expanded into a neighbouring system that had been vacated by a departing alliance, we had to clear out a starbase they had left behind. I was mightily impressed by the scale of the capital class vessels brought to bear, and the speed at which we dispatched the structures.


Even though these were good times, I have now said my goodbyes to Simon, the new people I had met within the alliance and Cherie who has seemingly embraced 0.0 with a greater vigour than I could, not to mention she has probably been embracing a lot of the alliance members in less public situations as she is that kind of person. I departed 0.0, returning to my old haunts within the safe envelope of the Khanid Kingdom, I am looking for a new adventure...... say, those wormhole systems were very pretty weren't they?

A new life

I quickly shut down the comn system, canceling the powerup sequence that was awakening my ship, no doubt turning the area around the chief engineer into a no-go-zone for the next few hours. Changing back to more formal attire, I summon my go-between to meet me at the monorail terminal, they say us eggers are all powerful, be that as it may but we wouldn't get anything done without an army of attendants.

Melissa was my primary contact in Soumi she handled all the details that were beneith my attention, a bright young girl of sound Khanid stock, in the weeks I had based here I had got to know enough of her that I could even reference her by name. She awaited me at the terminal, and fell into step as I entered the compartment.
"I am leaving the area as soon as I have my affairs in order, see that the ships are stored well and the crew dealt with, have the level 4 officers reassigned to Amarr Prime."
Leaving her to sort out the necessary arrangements I hurry back to my apartment, packing away takes less time than I had imagined, I hadn't created as big an imprint on the place as I thought I had. Never-the-less I press onwards to the medi-bay.

Clone jumping, one of the supposed wonders of the modern era, allowing a capsuleer to exist as a transient concience, flitting between mortal bodies at will. The very concept of it goes against every teaching and moral fibre I posses, however for the well traveled it becomes an evil we live with.
Stripping back down, somedays I am unsure why I bother getting dressed, I recline back into what I can only describe as a casket, plugging myself in I enter the access codes for my body in waiting, many light years away. The command completes, my world goes black.

The world reappears, blurry and smudged through new eyes.

First thing on my mind, shopping, what can I say its in my DNA. I head straight from the medi bay out into the vast expanse of warehouses, I have my eye on a nice harbinger, a decent choice for a first dip into the unknown I think.
I go for a basic setup, true to what I know, with one alteration, the Micro-Warp-Drive, a technology I usually have little use for but my contacts say will become invaluable in 0.0.
Setting me back a chunk of my hard earned ISKies there she stood, shiny and new, that new ship smell still floating down her corridors.
I undocked from the station straight into the mid day rush, ships everywhere, quite the shock for a girl from the sticks where 3 ships at a gate is a busy day.
The new harbinger handled itself well, as for the micro-warp-drive I have always believed a ship of this size is not built for speed, it feels wrong somehow, but in another way ohh so good. I buy a few additional modules and spare drones. To be quite honest I was floating not too sure what I needed not wanting to overpack, but terrified of forgetting something. Realising all I am doing is delaying myself, I oversee the final loading procedures, then pod up and ship out.

I meet up with my fellow travelers a jump or two out of Amarr itself, Cherie in her own harbinger, and Simon hauling quantities of something out in his Bestower.

I slave my nav computor to Simons and we turn as a one, warping to a point millions of miles from any object revealed on my scanner. A momentry shuddering the very walls quake with the energies pulling me out of warp.

Returning to normality my instruments show wild energy readings, the very fabric of space is wrong my scanner picks up objects that are similtaniously very far away yet right before me, the camera drones are struggling to focus on a, on a what? it was a bubble but seemingly of nothing. I could see around as well as through it, a wormhole, the product of a shockwave eminating from the destruction of a drone hive and the splintering of a planet, but you all knew that right?

Our ships dissapeared into it, my world changed, I left the safety of CONCORD space and entered a beautiful new world, a direct link deep into lawless 0.0 space. You may say it was fortunous, you may say the simplicity of the route was fate, I dont believe any of that tosh.

I allow my ship to be pulled into another warp, and we arrive at what is to be my home for the forseeable future, a small rough collection of structures huddled against the cold reaches of space withing the protective shield of a Gallante control tower. We sit in a high orbit around a small rocky moon, A clear blue oceanic planet hovers in space further away towards the small yellow star, not a spectacular system, but she is beautiful in her own way.

I have to admit as I retire for the night and head for my shipboard quarters, watching the pulsing of the shield twist the form of the moon though my porthole, its oddly bewitching.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring.

The call...

The bustle in the corridors outside stirred me to wakefulness, the rise in traffic passing my small berth usually woke me in a gentler and more pleasing manor than any alarm or wakeup call I had ever tried. Rolling over I stretch and reluctantly emerge from the warm pit I had burrowed into the night before.

Not long after I was ready to face the day, over-brewed cuppa in hand I wander out onto my balcony overlooking the hanger. Ever since returning to Amarrian territory I had adjusted my attire more befitting a lady of my status, technically being an heiress and all. This morning I had selected an elaborate figure hugging, yet sufficiantly discrete, dress. Fashioned from satin a shade of red so dark you would consider it black it was tailored to a line that invited eyes to wander, yet also warned not to be caught at it. This was all topped off by my headdress that functioned more as a neck brace, once again style and image over function.

From my balconies vantage point high on the wall of the Emperor Family hanger I cast my gaze over the assembled flotilla of Navy and private, mostly pod equipped, ships. In the distance I can just about pick out the glittery sheen reflecting from the ruby red plating on the prow of my Paladin class Battleship. My pride and joy she had cost me a small fortune, and as with any lady I had treated her to the best I could afford and she repaid me with unquestioning performance.

A sharp trill broke into my morning routine, a new message, I left it where it was as I was already in motion towards my Fleet contact, apparently there were yet more Blood Raiders detected, sometimes I wonder if there even is a border guard, or perhaps why the Raiders still attempt to operate so deep within the Empire. Although it is of little matter to me, I get some combat and on top I also get paid no matter the reasoning.

After a short monorail ride down the procession of ships I disembark before my own bay, turning to the ship parked next door I smile again, a little game I like to play with the locals.The previous evening I had intentionally docked next to an Apocaylypse class Battleship, a petty little trick but getting one over on the neighbours always tickles something deep inside me.

"Walking through the corridors towards your pod deck makes an importaint first impression upon those selected to be your crew", this was a lesson I took to heart and stuck to rigidly. What crew would serve, let alone lay down their short lives for a scruffy wretch? So I always took time to compose myself before arriving onboard. I would be disrobing soon enough to enter my pod, but those few minutes between rising and becoming one with your vessel were as importaint as any tactical manuver.

Settling into my cabin I carefully remove my headress, setting it onto a stone bust sat in a dark recess of the room, kicking off my flat low heeled shoes I pad back across the room before stripping back down to my pilots jumpsuit. In all the years since I left the acadamy I could have switched to a more stylish or functional suit, however it was only ever the pod techs who saw me in it and they hardly counted, they were strictly seperated from the rest of the crew, a girls gotta keep her decency somehow and if it means denying a few assets the meagre benefits usually enjoyed by shipboard service, so be it.

Comfortable at last, I curl up in a large chair positioned near the viewport, I fire up the comms link to negotiate my next assignment for the fleet, when the flash of an unread message catches my eye. Acessing it, it is a personal mail message, my heart skips a beat, from Mr Templar, a short message, simple and to the point.

A route is open, we leave today.


.

And now for something completely different

Well this was supposed to be college years part deux, however, a) I tire of them and b) my EvE life may be changing completely.

For the purposes of this blog and all future ones concerning current events I have been requested to refrain from naming systems, corps and pilots to protect their innocence (yeah right), but still all names other than my own are fakes.

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So, I am hanging out in one of my many comn channels, this one happens to be the Amarrian faction channel, I am somewhat of a regular there. Anywho eventually, as happens to the best of us, I was propositioned by a tall Amarrian gentleman, we shall call him Simon Templar. Anyway he offered me a complete change of life, drop everything move out and live in a 0.0 corp.

Now bit of back history, I have been flying around in EvE after graduating for just under 4 years now and aside from an ill fated corp wormhole expedition I have lived pretty mush solidly in high security space. I am not an avoider of combat, I enjoy highsec wars, I have done can flipping and I have a concise handbook of CONCORD aggression regulations on my bedside table, but, losec? It has never appealed to me, I like choosing when and where I fight, I have always seen passing below 0.5 sec as a shortcut to blobbage insta-death. Yes I run missions, no I dont mine, no I dont scam, yes I do a bit of flippage, I consider myself a highsec Pirate, a mercanary when I want to be an oppertunist.

So when Simon said "we live in 0.0 security" I dont know why but I couldn't give him the straight no answer I should have done. To be honest I do like the romantic image I have painted of 0.0 in my mind, pioneers, people working together to push towards a common goal. I should probably mention Simon has something of a silver tongue, I kept dancing around the subject expressing my dislike, my lack of experience, my worries of 0.0 and it kept coming back to one point that I coudn't push aside, have I tried it, did I know?

So I said yes, although he wouldn't promise to go gentle with me, (yes I did ask) he said he would tutor and let me shelter under his wing. To top it all, hes only gone and recruited the only girl in Amarr channel who can out flirt me :), I shall call her Cherie. As soon as a route is scouted and all are set, off we go.

So I guess I'm off to the big scary 0.0, and from there I shall send my blog in a new and hopefully exciting direction.

Templar, An Amarrian Fightercraft used by Students.

Another short tale from my 3rd Year at Imperial Acadamy Deepari.

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The stars twinkled, I'm not sure why, they said something about it in astronamy class they shouldn't twinkle but something in our mind remained from our evolution planetside that made them twinkle. Occasionally they were occulded by the large bulks of rock slowly tumbling through the void. I could watch this spectacle for days, indeed I would spend hours alone in one of the Acadamies observation rooms just staring into the nothingness. However, now was not the time for it, I dragged my eyes back to the control panel before me, a simple short range scanner, comns equipment and the fire control panel, far simpler than even a frigates controls, it was a Templar, A fightercraft usually used by the Imperial Amarrian carriers, it was a joy to fly, a single pilot could warp around a system, a handful for any frigate in a dogfight, although it could not access the gate travel network and was too small to fit a pod system. These aspects however made it a perfect training craft for new, not as of yet pod capable, pilots.

In the last few weeks since the survival exam, I had been floating high on my own fortunes, we had begun real flight training, although we still visited the VR decks for larger ship training, the physical feel of being in command of a ship was a rush. On top of this, Markus and I had still been going steady since our little escapade, evading detection from the Abbots and other students, catching brief moments together, shocking ourselves with the outlandish places we would meetup for little more than a moment in each others arms. Even my academic situation had improved, the subjects covered this year had suited me, reduced emphasis on theological guidance, we were assumed to be pure of mind by now, heh heh.

So here I lay, commanding a wing of 3 Templars, peering into my scanner scope for the first ping registering the immenant arrival of hostiles. A crakle of static preceded the voice of one of my wingmen, "I got a hazy contact coming in hot high on bearing 035", "good spot Markus, Flight, up to speed, bearing 035 high, spread to delta formation" we had somehow managed to wrangle ourselves onto the same flight, a feat helped by the fact that we worked well together.

A new twinkle appeared in the darkness, slowly, then more rapidly it grew, split into 4, then became a streak of colour, my scanner flashing up its assessments of ship class, expected arnaments, and possible stratagies. Blood Raiders, my very skin crawled at the mention of the name, if the Acadamy's lectures on the subject hadn't been enough the tales I had been told as a child back home, and the very real threat they posed to outlying planets were sufficiant to the task. A destroyer escorted by 3 frigates, it was a larger contingant than we were expecting, but it should be possible.

"Burners, dont fly at them, keep your angles high, lock and orbit the dessie, it is primary," rolling my templar I doubled back on my previous tack, the 2 other templars in their own weaving paths avoiding the murderous beams of energy flashing across the void. The 3 Blood frigates begin their own charge towards us in an attempt to keep us from closing on the destroyer. Still at range from the flagship, the two squads crossed, twisting in my harness I saw stasis webs reach out, entangling one of the templars in strands of energy stopping it dead in the water, energy neutralisers swiftly followed by the sharp crack of pulse lasers. "Arggh, I'm primary, shields dropping fast" squealed the voice of my second wingman, Kalos, an older Amarrian had excelled in the classroom, but paniced easially in combat, as he was now. "Calm down, your strength is in armour, Markus peel off take care of those frigs, I will take the dessie, catch me if you can."

Markus flipped his ship end over end, a blast of burners killing off his velocity and sending him back towards the immobile templar, already re-calibrating his systems and taking longrange potshots at the orbiting Bloodships, I rolled again, and continued accelerating into another tack racing against the destroyers tracking system. Entering the destroyers optimal range, I tightened my turns, cutting it closer and closer, the onboard computer blaring danger alarms at me, beams of energy flashing beneith my wings, the odd one striking a shield and prisming off into a miryad of colours, harmlessly absorbed. "Got a fire solution .... lining it up ... boom, scratch one leach" the chirpy voice of Markus goading me with his early success, "I'm dead in the water, my ship has shut down, no cap, shields going, get them off meeee," "Kalos you are fine, Markus is clearing them, stop disrupting the comns, I have almost reached the dessie"

Clearing thoughts of the battle behind me, I concentrated back on the destroyer, A tough target, if I could get a tight enough orbit I shouldn't have to worry about incoming too much, its just whether I could get enough hits to overcome its defences. Pulling in close enough to see the mottled red, what I hoped was camoflage, I set my pulse lasers to eating away at its shielding. Flashes of pure white reflecting off both hulls, the rippling effect of the energy absorbing into the shield mear centimeters above the armour plating. I feel at times I can see through the narrow viewports, into the bridge of the vessel to see scuttling crewmembers, dressed as barbarians from an ancient time, of course I cannot, the blast screens would have been closed up long ago, relying solely on sensor readings, watching the thin electromagnitic defences thin under my constant fire.

"Boom, there goes number two" Markus seemed to be getting all the fun this time, "the third is disengaging, headed back up to you Evil, watch your back", "Roger Markus, persue and dispatch at your lesure, Kalos, how are your systems?", "still empty, but recharging, I will be back with you soon", "Roger flight, destroyer recieving armour damage, theres only one way this is going now."

The once smooth hull of the destroyer now showed deep gashes, glowing ruby red against the cold backdrop, small volcanos of atmosphere or crystals of flash frozen fluids erupt from unprotected compartments. Shimmering greenish clouds of nanite bots flow across the hull, trying ineffectually to keep up with each new barrage of fire raining down, the ship is slowling giving up its grip on life.

My computer detects a weakening in the armour around one of the engine pods, I quickly focus the next volly onto the area. The thinning plates put up an initial resistance then buckle, unable to standup to the assault thin metal boiling and tears admitting the beams into the interior, atmosphere instantly vaporising and erupting into the void in a jet of plasma, the pod buckles, then bursts open spilling the engines radioactive fire and debris into space. "Shes going down, Markus you got a few seconds if you want in on this one, get your arse moving"

Almost as soon as I had spoken, the fight changed. I noticed the signals from the destroyer had changed, I was no longer its primary concern, all its turrets lined up, aiming back down towards the other two templars, a flash of deep orange light, 8 seperate beams of energy converged some tens of kilometers behind me, twisting in my seat, I strained to see back over my shoulder.

The point of light had struck the templar at the base of its port wing stub, and passed straight through, it had been accelerating hard in persuit of the final blood frigate, its transversal to the destroyer dropped to almost zero, the larger vessel had taken advantage of this error. The templar flipped over, the wing stub tore free, folding across the hull and slamming into the engine bays when the second volley struck home, a crackle of static issued through the comns, but no voice broke through as the templar split open, plumes of atmosphere, crystalised fluids and debris flung themselves into the void.

"Markus is down, I'm in persuit of the frigate", Kalos' voice broke into my thoughts, shook me back to a reality that I didnt want to face. The destroyer finally tore itself apart before me, but I hardly saw it, I had retreated into my own head, safe from, or at least ignoring the facts I didnt want to be true.

The final frigate warped out when it realised it was alone, Kalos attempted to communicate with me again, then summoned the fleet. I remember little of the next few days I slowly came out of it over the next week, although the pain of loss has never left me.

Interlude

A short break from the biography now, for another short (it started in my head as short, sorry) and hopefully enjoyable tale.

This one comes from my 3rd year at Imperial Acadamy Deepari.

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I awoke early, truth be told I had not slept well at all. Today was exam day, a practical demonstration of the techniques taught to us throuought the year in the techniques of survival. An art long rendered all but useless to the pod pilot through FTL communications and the pod itself, however as it is on the Amarrian curriculem, so it is taught without question.

I approached the group of students nervously gathering around the examiner. Markus was there, we had grown closer over the last 2 years here, naturally our little group had split into couples, not that me an Markus were an item of course, but Prypyet and Jinzu were practically inseperable. As this exam had loomed closer we had planned to try and support each other as best we could, we had heard horrific tales of past years experiences we dismissed many of them as exaggerations designed to intimedate us. The trouble was the nagging feeling that although exaggerated, the nature of the exam didn't exactly make any of them impossible.

The nature of the exam is one many outsiders may consider barbaric, or at least extreme. The candidates are loaded aboard a transport ship and flown out to an uninhabited planet, where they are ejected in drop-pods capable of only limited control during the decent to the planets surface where the candidates must survive for 4 weeks before being collected. Those who survive, pass.

The darkness envelops, the warm currents of shock gel flow around my body, yet I am still shivering. The drop-pod has not allowed me any access to nav computers for the last 3 jumps. A short tone emits through my head, the text "prepare for drop" appears to float before my eyes. I do not hear, rather I feel the thump of pods being ejected from the cargo hold, a particularly strong shock jolts me to alertness, that must have been Markus's pod, he had boarded just before me.

An almighty clunk followed by a screech of retrojets, gravity inverts, I breifly revisit my breakfast, it hadn't been particularly appetizing the first time round, and I float free.

The nav comp fires up, a large planet, well thats a relief, scare story No 1 busted. Scare story number 2 however was rearing its ugly head, I was already re-entering (technically entering but the terminology is fixed) the atmosphere. I caught a brief glimpse of a thrust jet flare a little off to my port, remembering our plan I started to guide my own pod into an adjacent plummet path.

The impact wasnt as hard as I had feared, but it was harder than I had hoped, when I came to and my head begin to clear I noticed there was a scrabbling on the outer hull, followed by a more reassuring hammering. I fumbled around inside the pod, found a large recessed lever, cycled the doorway and fell.

I apparently had managed to land my pod nose down wedged up against a tree, when I had cycled the door Markus who had been hammering at the hull was presented with 112lbs of Khanid along with a gallon or two of warm pod fluid.

The two of us lay sprawled in a heap on the floor beneith my pod, "Ahh Miss Incarn8, its never just a hello with you is it? always the big entrance", Markus could smirk at me all he liked, he was pleased to see me, I was pleased he had been there to break my second fall of the day.

Truth be told the planet, or at least the bit of it we could see, wasn't that bad. We had quickly constructed a small shelter, even food hadn't been as big a problem as we had feared. Later that evening as the light faded we retired to our shelter, "Well Markus, I guess this is our first night together ehh" grinning from ear to ear as he turned bright red, I had been winding him up something rotten all day, to the point he had even promised me a little white picket fence.

And so we continued, life was fairly easy, food plentiful, the company helped the time pass, and I managed to wear down his gentlemanly exterior to the point where he could even get me to turn beet red with a single comment. If the Abbots ever got wind of some of the euphamism and suggestive phrases we got through down there, we would have been assigned corrective theology for an eternity and probably still be damned afterwards.

Eventually the inevitable happened, at almost the 3 week anniversary of our arrival  I awoke one morning finding it difficult to breath, opening my eyes I realise Markus is sprawled across me. Horror floods through me, tempered only by disgust and shame at myself flooding straight back. Do I try to escape make like it hasn't happened, or pretend to be asleep let him decide? Fortunately, I am spared making the descision as he awakens at almost the same instant. Springing across the room from me, we each retreat to opposite corners like scolded cats, grabbing at my clothes I flee the shelter not returning until my stomach demands attention late in the evening.

He is sat beside a fire, a small pot bubbling away atop it, he places a small amount of whatever was within it into a bowel and places it directly opposite from his seat, not once looking towards me, I mumble a thanks and sit facing away from him.
Fed and thinking properly for once, I turn back to him, "We did didnt we?" I ask so quietly I didnt think he could have heard, "Yeah", comes the equally quiet bearly whispered reply. Silence reigns once more for what seems an eternity, before Markus offers "If you want, it can be as if it never happened, we need never mention it again," I look up from my study of a small pebble, "but we cant can we?, I look at you now and thats all I can think of." He fails to surpress a grin, catches himself and ends our only communication of the day, "You take the shelter, I will sleep out here tonight." I had long ago learned that I never win against his determined chivelrous side, so I take my leave and retire to a fitfull nights sleep.

Awakening to the early dawn, I shiver away the lonely nights chills, becoming aware of cooking sounds outside I rise quickly, my mind cleansed overnight my decision clear and simple.
I emerge from our shelter, he initially backs away, my soft smile catches him offguard. "You are up to something, arn't you?" he hazards. I continue my approach, "I had a long think last night, I have a way to save us." Reaching him, I look straight up into his face, "When I want something, I get it" and I kissed him, I have never been one for requesting acceptance of my plans, besides I didnt detect much in the way of resistance off him.

The last 3 days of our incarceration turned out to be some of the happiest of my life since leaving Palas. Waking in the arms of the man who used to be one of my closest friends, turned first official lover. Just how this arrangement will last back up at the Acadamy under the eyes of the Abbots didn't concern us at that time, we just reveled in each others company until the day the dropships arrived to return us to normality.

I rekon I passed that exam.