I Am a Thera Scanner

Editor’s Note: This week we’re featuring a blog post by our very own Vladimir Korff, an in character story about learning the ropes of becoming a Thera Scout. You can visit his blog at Encapsulated Space.

REGION G-R00031 – CONSTELLATION G-C00324
THERA SYSTEM

Vladimir Korff

3 January YC 123

“Okay, we are finally in Thera,” said Aura. “What’s next?”

I knit my brow, “I am trying to remember Maxwell Kurvora’s lecture where he explained how to record Thera signatures.”

Aura giggled, “Is it the one where he also called your blog boring?”

She referred to an episode where Maxwell was demonstrating various software tools in his browser and said something like “Here you can see my boring bookmarks.” One of the bookmarks was named “Vlad’s Blog”.

“Oh, come on,” protested I, “he didn’t mean it. If anything, it was a kind of a self-deprecating joke.”

“I dunno, it sounded very much like a blog-deprecating criticism.”

I noticed a glint in Aura’s eye and cried, “Hey, stop teasing me! We have a job to do.”

“So what are you waiting for, Captain?” asked Aura, innocence incarnate.

I shook my fist at Aura, she stuck her tongue out at me. Having completed the exchange of pleasantries, I racked my brain.

“It’s a bit confusing. I remember that the main goal was to add a wormhole to the Tripwire and bookmark both ends in the shared corp folder, but most work had to be done in Mzsbi Haev’s Thera Scan tool. The problem is, I don’t remember how to use it.”

“Shall we watch Maxwell’s lecture again?” suggested Aura, with a suspicious sparkle in her eyes.

“No, it will take another hour. Let’s just open the tool and figure out how to work with it.”

And so we did. In fact, as soon as I saw the screen, it all came back to me, and the built-in step-by-step instruction plugged the gaps in my memory. The tool was super convenient – it was developed by a capsuleer, for capsuleers. I guess, Mzsbi spent many a boring hour typing signature IDs into Tripwire and the bookmark folder before he finally decided to introduce some automation. And now it all worked like a charm. Thera Scan tool was compatible with my neurointerface which it used to extract data from the probe scanner and Tripwire. After comparing the data from those two sources the tool produced a programme of work which consisted of collapsed wormhole removal and new signature scanning. After that, all I had to do was scan and bookmark the wormhole and manually enter three pieces of information: a type of the wormhole, a signature of its other end and the destination system. Everything else was just copy-pasting. It was a great tool!

Still, it took me a while to get a hang of it. While I was working on my first signature, I saw Azamex announce scanning the same one. That was not surprising as I published my own announcement 12 minutes earlier, before she joined the comms channel. I told Azamex that I was already working on that signature, she just shrugged and switched to scanning another one. While I was learning the ropes with my first wormhole, Azamex managed to scan and add three other signatures to the map! Moreover, when I was about to create a Tripwire record for my wormhole I found that she already added it but it didn’t have all the details. I filled in the missing data, invoked Submit command and held my breath… After a few seconds I reloaded the list, and voila – my first ever Thera wormhole appeared on our alliance server!

I was proud and excited and wanted to tell the whole world about it when I heard Aura’s angry voice.

“Hey! What’s that? Why does it show Azamex as the scanner?”

I looked at the screen and, indeed, the server indicated that the wormhole was scanned by Azamex.

“Hmm… I guess it’s because she created the record in Tripwire,” I said tentatively. “That’s where our server gets information from.”

“This must be fixed immediately! Contact the server administrators and ask them to correct the name.”

I laughed, “The server admin is no other than our Alliance Leader Johnny Splunk. I guess, he has more important work to do than manually correcting values in the database.”

“Then… then just delete and recreate that Tripwire record under your name!”

“Why would I spend my time on it?”

“Because it’s unfair! It was you who scanned that wormhole but now all the credit for it went to Azamex!” fumed Aura.

“Doesn’t matter,” shrugged I. “I know that it was I who did it.”

“But Tekufah doesn’t!” she blurted out.

I was wondering why Aura suddenly got so excited but finally the penny dropped. Tekufah was running an award program and gave a CovOps frigate to any Signaleer who scanned five Thera wormholes.

I looked Aura in the eye and asked, “Aura, honestly? All this outrage only because of a frigate?”

She blushed but stood her ground, “And why not? T2 frigates aren’t lying around.”

“Even if I don’t get credit for this one wormhole, I would have already scanned another one if I didn’t have to waste time on this pointless discussion.”

“No, you wouldn’t. It took you 18 minutes 22 seconds to finish this one and we’ve been talking for just 1 minute 18 seconds.”

“That’s because it was my first wormhole,” I pointed out. “I am sure I can scan another one much quicker.”

“Not as quick as recreating the Tripwire record,” grumbled Aura.

I ignored her remark and focused on the next signature. Indeed, my time improved to 12 minutes 25 seconds but it was still far from Azamex’s blazing performance – she was ticking off a new signature every 2-3 minutes. So by the time I finished my second wormhole, Azamex completed the rest of the unmapped signatures.

“Now what?” asked Aura testily.

“Now we just wait for new signatures to pop up on the radar.”

Aura ostentatiously switched herself off and I spent the next half an hour in peace, reading the corp forums. While I was thusly occupied, two more signatures appeared on the probe scanner and I eagerly set to mapping. This time round it took me only 8 minutes per wormhole. I didn’t have time to wait for new signatures so I called it a day and warped to a hi-sec connection bookmarked by a fellow Thera scanner.

“You see, with 8 minutes per signature, it will take us just 40 minutes to earn a new frigate,” said I trying to placate Aura who was still sulking.

“Sixty two minutes forty seven seconds,” were her last words before the wormhole sucked us in.

Consequence Management

Editor’s Note: This week we’re featuring an in character story by Vladimir Korff. – Katia Sae


Reposted from Vladimir Korff’s blog, ENCAPSULATED, Consequence Management.


GENESIS REGION – MIH CONSTELLATION
ZOOHEN SYSTEM – PLANET III
THEOLOGY COUNCIL TRIBUNAL

8 June YC 122

SuperCacher Vladimir Korff

After my lucky escape I spent two days attending to my tending and avoiding more exciting activity like hacking relics in an uncloaked Buzzard in the middle of J-Space. While I was calming my nerves by methodically opening small secure containers, I suddenly received an urgent invitation to a corporate meeting in Zoohen. Wondering what it was all about I found a hi-sec exit and made my way to the corp base at Theology Council Tribunal Station.

I wasn’t sure what the dress code was but decided it would be a good opportunity to wear my Polar Aurora Exploration Suit. Having washed off the pod goo in a shower I headed straight to my item hangar where I still kept all prizes from Tender Games. Passing a young female mechanic I noticed that she gave me a strange look. She then turned to her teammate and surreptitiously, or so she thought, pointed at me. Her companion shrugged, muttered “Capsuleers” and impassively turned away. At first I thought that the girl somehow noticed the neural interface slots on my body but then I realised that it was the body itself that attracted her attention. It was naked!

Can’t say I was embarrassed – I was never shy about my skin – but I was shocked to discover how twisted my mind became. While I carefully planned what I was going to wear at the corporate meeting, I didn’t give any thought to putting anything on in order to walk a hundred metres to my item hangar through public space. Was it a result of spending too much time floating nude in a capsule? Was I developing that infamous capsuleer’s disregard for baseliners? I don’t know. I just pretended that everything was perfectly normal, made a snooty face and walked past the dock crew. If I had to choose between looking like a snob and looking like an idiot… well, the choice was obvious. The rest of the way I walked with a straight back, eyes looking above other people’s heads. Having reached the hangar I closed the door and hastily put my new suit on. Feeling myself much more comfortable, I headed to the Signal Cartel office.

The conference hall was full and buzzing; people were talking to each other and didn’t pay any attention to the newcomer. I looked around and realised that I hardly knew anyone in the audience. Well, I could put names to faces since I saw photos in forums but I never met those people in person. It was an awkward situation – I knew that I knew them but I didn’t know if they knew me. Suddenly, I heard someone calling my name. Having turned in the direction of the voice I saw Maxwell Kurvora wave his hand at me.

“Hey, Vlad. Come here, we have a free seat.”

Maxwell was one of the corp members who would definitely know me as he was a reader of this very blog. Grateful for the invitation I squeezed myself past other Signaleers and dropped into the chair.

Max shook my hand and then, nodding at his neighbour on the other side, asked, “By the way, have you, guys, met before?”

I looked at the blonde lady with a cybernetic arm who sat next to Maxwell and said, rather formally, “I don’t think I had the pleasure, but I know who you are, Ms Tamayo.”

“I can say the same about you Vladimir,” replied Tamayo and shook my hand. I noticed that the artificial arm had a strong but measured grip and wondered whether it was power-capped or Tamayo had such fine control of her prosthetic appendage – those things were strong enough to crack coconuts.

“And please no honorifics,” added Tamayo, “in Signal Cartel we call each other just by name regardless of a person’s position.”

“Works for me,” smiled I, “in fact I thought about addressing you by your full title but couldn’t decide whether it should be Recruiter Tamayo or Anoikis Division Manager Tamayo.”

Tamayo frowned, “That would be quite a mouthful, huh? By the way, would you be interested in joining Anoikis Division? We always look for new members. You seem to spend a lot of time in J-space so this may be a good choice for you.”

“I thought about joining AD but it requires a C2 title, and I don’t even have C1. And to be honest, I am not sure if I am eligible for it. One needs to show participation in corp programs and I don’t know what kind of proof is required.”

“Maybe this man can help you with that,” said Tamayo with a faint smile, nodding at a person who was talking to Thrice Hapus, our CEO.

That person was Igaze, Eve-Scout Rescue Director, who oversaw Eve-Scout Rescue Cache and Search and Rescue operations.

“What do you mean…” I started asking but was interrupted by a loud clap.

That was Thrice Hapus clapping his hands to attract attention of the audience. The room went quiet and everyone looked at him.

“Dear Signaleers, thank you for finding time to attend our corporate meeting. As you know, we have a full agenda, but first we need to deal with some very serious matters. I’ll let Igaze explain.”

Igaze took the stage and looked sternly at the assembly.

“It has happened again,” said he in a grave voice. “In fact, with the recent influx of new corp members, we’ve noticed an uptick in such activity. Signal Cartel management quickly responded to this development and dealt with it accordingly. We are not making a secret of it and we would like all Signaleers to know about the consequences that their actions may have.”

Igaze made a pause to let his words sink in, looked around and suddenly stopped his eyes on me.

“Signaleer Vladimir Korff, would you please make your way to the front?”

My heart sank. Was it about that ill-fated starbase theft? But I returned the bloody thing to the owners! Maybe that was not enough. Maybe management didn’t want me to get off that easy. With all those thoughts racing through my mind, I stood up and walked on wooden legs past the fellow corp members who stared at me coldly.

When I approached Igaze, he gave me a quick look and turned to the audience, “Everyone, look at this man. This is Vladimir Korff and I want every Signaleer to know what he has done. And, as our surveillance showed, done not once, not twice, but a hundred times!”

I was totally bewildered. That couldn’t be about the starbase, I stole only one!

Igaze continued, “This could not go on unnoticed anymore, and today on behalf of Signal Cartel management I announce that Vladimir Korff…”

I cringed.

“…has become our newest SuperCacher! He has sown and tended one hundred caches! Please congratulate him on this significant achievement.”

Suddenly everyone was smiling and clapping and cheering. With an idiotic smile I watched Igaze attach a medal to my suit, shook his hand and returned to my seat.

“Congratulations, Vladimir,” said Max. “I must say you handled it really well. Some people actually fainted when they got their first medal in such manner.”

I had a lot to say about that ‘manner’ but that required some coherence which I was badly lacking at the moment. All I could manage to croak through my constricted throat was “Thanks, Max. I think I need a drink.”

“Oh, there will be plenty of drinks after the meeting. And don’t worry, it won’t take long. Despite what Thrice said, we actually aren’t big on management reporting. As you should’ve guessed by now, we are big on fun!”

Damocles Trigonometry

Editor’s Note: This week we’re featuring Signaleer Yankee Sullivan and his first blog entry. To summarize in his own words: “An in-character take on returning to flying in EVE, discovering new dangers and perhaps finding a new home…”

Yankee Sullivan

Damocles Trigonometry, no one told me about them.

Wait, that’s not what they’re called is it? Drama Thespians, no one told me about them.

I mean, I knew that some group had come along from dead space or the abyss, that they had come on the heels of the Drifters or were Drifters of some kind or another. But what nobody had told me was that these jerks would come and blow you up in High-Sec.

I can hear you ask now: “Well Yankee where have you been? They have been attacking for a couple of years now. You’ve been a capsuleer since YC-113. What were you doing?”

Well I was drunk, for about five years. After some adventures and fights I ended up involved with a fire haired pirate who roamed Low-Sec. I began running hulls and guns for her. Then that stopped, the work and the involvement. So, I began drinking. That was around YC-116. If you have four jump clones, and the right training you can drink almost non-stop and never really have that much of a hangover. So that’s what I did, I drank for five years. Drank in the ways that I had only dreamed of when I was still a mortal, fighting bare knuckle in the back rooms that had cost me both my natural eyes and earned me the favor of the man who repaid me with capsule compatibility tests. The kind of drinking that a man like me can be prone too when the heart is shattered, and purpose is lost.

If I am being honest, the purpose had been lost long before Reese podded my heart. Though I am not sure I really had a purpose before then.

Never mind, this isn’t about why I wasn’t paying attention for five years. The point is, I wasn’t. Then one day, when one of my clones had to be replaced because it had suffered catastrophic liver failure, I hit bottom. As close to bottom an undying Capsuleer can get. That and a brief communication from Reese: she had gone to fight the Amarr and help free her fellow Minmatar from the shackles of slavery or some such thing. She said that she realized that was her purpose and she knew I could find mine somewhere out deep in the black.

Paying out for a new clone and looking at that communication right next to my shrinking bank account made me realize I needed to do something. I won’t give her credit; it was a fiscally based decision I swear. I looked over the assets I still had and outfitted myself an Imicus with a probe launcher and a full suite of scanners.

We all know there’s no fortune to be made in High-Sec. But if you’re in a cheap ship and you’re looking for lost sites to exploit, no other capsuleer is going to risk the swift and complete wrath of CONCORD to blow you up. So maybe I admit I was being a little lazy. I’m no stranger to the art of safes, deep safes, perches and jump clears. But as I said before, no one told me about the Donation Tricycles.

So, I went, and I warped myself over to a star and began to leisurely fly away from it while I launched my probes. I’d never been great at probing down signals or ships. Plus, I think maybe the map and probe interface have been changed, it all seemed different than I remembered. Soon I forgot about all my other sensors and scanners. I was focused on guiding little probes around the system while I searched for Angel or Serpentis treasure. Getting that signal percentage up to one hundred percent in those moments became my sole obsession.

That was when the little buggers popped up, and I didn’t catch it, because in all my time in High-Sec the only things that had ever posed a threat in open space was another Capsuleer, and there weren’t any around. By the time I realized what was happening my power capacitor was being neutralized and an alarm told me my shields were down. I watched for a second…a stupid peer had decided shooting an Imicus was worth losing their ship to CONCORD. I waited another second and I was still being attacked. Too late I switched my readouts filters, it was no Capsuleer. That awful shrill sound filled my ears as the last of my ship’s armor was blasted away. Then a moment later the old familiar sensation of my pod being hurled out of my dying ship. I warped immediately away and put into the nearest station.

A short time later I was getting my insurance pay out sorted. Over and over I thought to myself never had I ever been attacked by something like a Domestic Troubadour in High Security space. My lips curled up as I realized I needed to catch up. That years of drinking and lonely heartache hadn’t just cost me ISK and a clone, it had cost me my edge, my awareness. A new determination filled me to become not just competent with probes, but a master. I would also learn who the Dental Triumphs were and where they came from, and how to fight them. I began to cycle through the GalNet when I saw an advert for Signal Cartel and saw that they were a group of explorers who eschewed aggressive action and sought the riches of both relics and knowledge throughout space. Not really the type of people I figured to want a former bare-knuckle fighter turned capsuleer gun runner. But I figured they could at least tell me who the Dancing Triglycerides were, so I hit the apply button.

Now, some small corner of myself feels a glimmer of hope that maybe this is where I belong.

For anyone else like me, maybe crawling out of the bottom of a bottle, or some sort of prolonged sleep, perhaps a decadent vacation, let me tell you this: Damavik Triglavians exist and they will kill you if you’re not paying attention in even the safest corners of space.

Stuck in a Clone Jump

Editor’s Note: This week we’re featuring Signaleer Vladimir Korff and an entry from his blog titled “Stuck in a Clone Jump”. If you enjoy this story then please be sure to check out his blog, Encapsulated which has been going strong since 2018!

The Forge Region – Onirvura Constellation
Poinen System – Planet IV, Moon 13
Nugoeihuvi Corporation Development Studio

10 September YC 121

Vladimir Korff

After leaving my body with expensive implants in the safe hands of clone bay workers at Expert Distribution Retail Centre I came to at NOH station and went to the dock to board the capsule. On my way there I woke up Aura to let her know that the clone jump was successful. Before I could utter a single word she overwhelmed me with a stream of blabber.

“Vlad! Where have you been!? Are you okay? What happened!? What took you so long!?”

“Long?” I asked, surprised. “It’s been just half an hour or so.”

“What half an hour? Look at your watch! No, look at the calendar!”

I checked my datapad – it showed 20 February YC 122.

“What the f—?” muttered I.

At first, I thought there was something wrong with my datapad but then I checked a few GalNet news sites and they all had the same date. That could mean just one thing – my clone jump, instead of minutes, took almost half a year!

20 February YC 122

Five minutes (and 163 days) later I was standing in the clone bay and screaming at the tattooed guy behind the counter. I don’t remember all the swear words and their combinations that I used but the essence of my expletive-laden tirade boiled down to a simple question – why did my clone jump take so long?

The guy was not offended (I guess, he expected a reaction like that from me sooner or later) and said good-naturedly, “Oh, it’s all bloody auditors. If they didn’t delay the audit we would have brought you back much earlier. They planned to come to us in December but what with the festive season, most of their employees took leaves and they only managed to come back in the new year.”

I stared at him blankly. What he had said made zero sense to me. It was like he was talking to someone else on a completely different topic.

“What in seven Hells does the audit have to do with it?”

“But it was them who discovered that your clone jump was not completed. You see, the brain snapshot went through fine but then as the brain imprinting job was queued there was a power outage and the whole system went down. When we brought it back the job was gone. It was only when the auditors compared the list of brain transfers and imprints, that the discrepancy was found. As soon as they produced the report, we ran that job on your clone and woke you up. So, you see, if they came to us in December we would have finished your imprint much earlier,” he concluded triumphantly.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, “But aren’t you supposed to deliver your service in time without audits?”

It was a stupid question to ask but I wanted to plumb the depths of this cheerful idiocy.

“Oh, of course, of course. Since then we have implemented the end-to-end, what’s the name,” he knitted his brow, “recollection… relocation… Hey, Yoshiro, what is that thingy that the audit asked us to do?”

A dishevelled young fellow who was playing a video game in the corner of the office replied without turning to us, “End-to-end reconciliation.”

“Yes, reconciliation,” brightened the tattooed receptionist. “That’s our computer whizz-kid,” whispered he. “Now, if something like that happens again we will know straight away.”

“But… what about me? I’ve lost half a year of my life!”

“Yeah, right… that wasn’t pretty, was it? You know what, as a token of our apology, next time you jump from us I will offer you not one hundred year warranty but, say, one hundred and fifty! How about that?” said the guy and beamed at me.

It felt surreal. It was like I didn’t really finish my clone jump and was stuck in a dream. A bad dream.

“What are you talking about? What 150 years? The average clone storage time is just one month! No, you are not going to get off that easy. Do you know how much a capsuleer earns a month? You will have to compensate me for the loss of my income caused by the breach of the service level agreement!”

The receptionist looked nonplussed, “Breach of agreement? What agreement? All we promised was to store your clone for a hundred years but there is no defined timeframe to revive it after we receive the brain snapshot.”

“Doesn’t matter. Surely, you have to execute a reasonable duty of care and any court would consider a five-month delay excessive!”

The receptionist shrugged, “These are standard SCC terms; we didn’t invent them.” Then he leaned over the counter, put his heavy hand on my shoulder and said confidentially, “My advice – don’t waste time on court proceedings. You’ll spend more time on hard court benches than you’ve spent in our comfortable clone bay, and to no avail.”

I threw his hand off my shoulder and stormed out of the office.


An hour later I was sitting in a bar, looking mindlessly through the rows of bottles behind the counter, again and again replaying the conversation I had at the clone bay.

“Ha, a capsuleer, a pod pilot, an empyrean, a god of the skies!” scoffed I, “And all that glorious existence can be paused or even terminated by a press of a button by some snotty baseliner.”

I shot a glass of whisky, put it on the bar with a thud and gestured the bartender to refill it. I heard a similar thud to my right and turned to see what caused it. The next bar stool was occupied by a male Achura capsuleer who also finished his drink and was demanding a top-up. I recognised the look on his face – it was a mirror reflection of myself. That guy was not enjoying himself.

Feeling my gaze the capsuleer turned to me and acknowledged my attention with a faint polite smile.

I raised my glass by way of greeting and asked a straight question, “Lost something?”

The guy sighed and replied, “A Loki.”

I whistled – that was an expensive loss.

“To Loki,” said I and downed my whisky.

“To Loki. She was beautiful,” repeated the Achura capsuleer and shot his glass. Then he extended his hand and said, “I am Null.”

I blinked. Well, I knew that capsuleers took some crazy names on graduation but Null was rather special. Outside programming languages its usage was normally confined to legalese such as ‘If you peel off this sticker then the warranty will be null and…’

All those thoughts, it seemed, plainly reflected on my face (and I was not in the mood to control my body language anyway) because Null raised a corner of his mouth in half-smile and said, “I know what you are thinking, but Void is another capsuleer in our corp.”

I blushed and protested lamely, “I didn’t think anything like that,” and then shook his hand, “Nice to meet you, Null. I am Vlad.”

“Nice to meet you, Vlad.”

After the introductions my thoughts returned to what Null said earlier.

“I’ve never had a Loki. In fact, never had enough money to buy one. How much time do you need to recoup its cost?”

Null shrugged, “Dunno. Maybe a month or two. And what’s your loss?”

“Five months,” I replied glumly.

Now it was Null’s turn to whistle, “And you’ve said you have never had money for a Loki! What were you flying? Naglfar Justice Edition?”

“No, this is not a money equivalent; it’s pure, irreversible loss of five months of my life,” said I and told him my sad story.

“Yeah, nasty business,” nodded Null and patted my shoulder sympathetically. “And I agree with that receptionist – don’t try to sue them. You’ll probably waste more time and, even if you win, money won’t be able to return your life. By the way, how come your corp mates didn’t try to find out what happened to you all that time?”

“Corp mates? I hardly know anyone in that Science and Trade Institute.”

“Oh, so you are in one of those default government-run corporations? No wonder they didn’t care about you. But then you probably didn’t miss much – fleets, corp functions…”

“True,” agreed I, “but I missed the New Year fireworks in Jita.”

“Oh, so you like fireworks…” Null made a pause thinking about something, then smiled and asked, “What if I told you I knew a corporation which specialized in fireworks? And did it much better and more frequently than the Jita crowd.”

I looked at him with disbelief, “Is there such corporation? What’s its name?”

Null turned towards me and pointed at a round badge on his chest, “We call ourselves Signal Cartel.”

Courage

I had spent the day of celebration at the Katia Sae Museum in Saisio where my journey was memorialized. I found the layout of the museum pleasing. A patron would enter the globe shaped museum from the bottom and walk up a spiral ramp where they could view my log entries and pictures in chronological sequence. Projected onto the inside of the globe were the New Eden stars and an animated holographic ship that would start at Saisio and progress through all the systems I had visited in order changing ships as needed along the way. In the center of the globe was a scaled down replica of the Journey of Katia Sae Memorial statue and the Abagawa gate. Suspended within the museum along the spiral ramp in the order in which I flew them, were the actual ships displayed for all to see.

The Achura Stargazers Society held the celebration on my one year anniversary of completing my journey as the final stop on my New Eden cluster tour. The past year had flown by with the shaking of a great many hands, speaking at various engagements, and answering questions from interview to interview. For the most part, I enjoyed each and every engagement, but I was exhausted. Being an introvert and having been alone for the most part with little interaction with others for nearly ten years, to all of a sudden be thrust in front of large crowds of folks that I didn’t know, seemed to take far more energy, courage, and determination than my actual journey had. Not that I had any regrets doing the tour, I’ve always found that no matter how difficult it was initially to find the courage and engage in social activities, I was thankful that I had afterwards.

Todays celebration was different however and it was a wonderful end cap to the tour as the event was limited to my family, friends, corpmates, and my fellow Achurian’s. I may not have known each and every one that attended, but the Achurian culture is one that’s all about family. Still exhausting, but it was a good kind of exhaustion. The day had been long and had ended with a fireworks display around the statue that could be seen through the now see through globe of the museum. There was no bad view to be had from anywhere within as the famous Signal Cartel hugs fleet demonstrated their expertise with fireworks as they often have done before.

With the fireworks exhausted and the end of the evening coming to a close, visitors had started to make their way to the docking bays for departure. Many had stopped by for one final hand shake, pat on the back, or saying congratulations and farewell. I kept the smile on as long as I could, before slowly disappearing deeper into the museum to find a quiet place to wind down and reflect. Absentmindedly wandering, I found myself before Voyager, my Astero class frigate I flew for a time in Empire space before starting around Null Sec. This particular ship held a special place in my heart being my favorite, but I also had a surreal event that to this day, I’m still not sure if it was real or a dream.

Faint footfalls approached from behind me which brought my thoughts back to the present. They stopped so I didn’t turn around, but waited instead as I could hear them whispering. Closing my eyes, I tried to focus on what they were saying. It was young girl, perhaps ten, twelve, and an older gentleman, presumably her father.

“Go ahead.” The father said.

“But, but, she doesn’t know me,” She replied. “and… I’m scared.”

Normally I would turn around to make things easier for the child, but I felt it was important for her to find her courage, so I waited, acting as if I didn’t know they were there. The father was a good man, reassuring his daughter, and offering encouragement as needed until she found her inner strength. After a few moments, I felt a hand touch my arm.

“Ah, Ms. Sae?” She asked.

I turned to face her and offered a smile to ease her fears, “We’re family here, call me Katia.”

Her brow furrowed and she frowned ever so slightly, “You look so tired.” She said, I guess she could see the weariness in my eyes after all, but then her face lit up with a thought and a smile, “Could you use a hug?”

I must confess, I did, and I found it hard to keep the tears from welling in my eyes. The end of the journey then the tour had finally caught up with me and here was a child, someone I didn’t know, seeing my weariness and offering comfort. Before the drops could pool and fall, I quickly knelt, opened my arms, and received the best hug I think I’ve ever had. In the end, I was glad and thankful that I too, had found the courage to engage in these social events. After all, I would never have received such a wonderful hug if I had not.

OOC:
I was fortunate to be able to attend a couple of the stops on the EvE World Tour last year at Toronto and Las Vegas. I have a love/hate relationship with large gatherings of people that I don’t know. I knew in particular these events would add another level of complexity in that there would be people who would know me or know of me because of EvE Online and my achievement. There’ll be others who understand this, but it takes a great deal of energy and ultimately courage to put myself out there. But usually, when all is said and done and even though by the end of the event I’m exhausted, I’m glad that I did find the courage to go.

So, I would encourage you to find a local EvE meetup or if you’re able, attend one of the bigger Fanfest. Trust me, you’re among friends and family and others who feel just as you do, you won’t regret it. And, should we find ourselves together at an event in the future and you want to say hello, please find the courage to do so. I’ll be just as nervous as you, but believe me, we’ll both be glad that you did.

The Spider

Editor’s Note: Featuring Ray Cosmic again this week not only with another work of art, but a short story to go with it. Special thanks to Scort for editing this week!

Ray Cosmic

I had played EVE online before, but this time around, I wanted to focus on exploration. To do this, I sought to learn from the best people practising it today, so I joined Signal Cartel. Then, having recently acquired a new Heron from my exploration career agent, I took to the skies.

After running a few high sec sites to get back into the swing of things, I jumped into the first wormhole I managed to scan down. Luckily, the lower class wormhole was quiet, and held two data sites. Allison, the AI co-pilot, kept reminding me to check my directional scanner. Thanks to her, I got into the habit of alternating between clicking on a node and mashing the dscan shortcut. It was exciting to be so vulnerable in the unknown. The tension made me fail the hacking minigame several times. Even though I detonated more than one can, I managed to get roughly twenty four million ISK worth of loot from the two sites. Feeling rich in accomplishment, as much as in wealth, I flew back through the wormhole from which I came. Once in the relative safety of high security space, I stored my treasure in the closest station.

The next day, I undocked again in my trusty Heron, confident in my ability to gain riches from the depths of wormhole space. I set off through high security space looking for connections to the distant Anoikis galaxy. The first few systems found were empty of exploration sites I could easily run. Either my beginner’s luck had already run out, or I was playing at a busier time. Hoping the afternoon would be more fruitful, I docked and went about my day.

After the next downtime, I undocked from the station and sent my probes out. The first signature scanned down revealed a wormhole leading to unknown space. Upon jumping through, there it was. Jxxxxxx. A shattered system. Class 2, said Allison. There were almost twenty signatures showing up on my probe scanner. I first set up several safespots, triangulating between the remnants of shattered planets. I then safely logged off to do a little reading on shattered wormholes before calling it a day.

Due to the impossibility of setting up structures in such a place, I felt I would be safe. There would be no locals to disturb me, and the large number of cosmic signatures would surely amount to billions of ISK from the data and relic sites. It felt like I had stumbled upon some deep space Eldorado.

The next evening, I set off to scan down every single signature in Jxxxxxx. The plan was to live in this wormhole for as long as there would be sites to run. I also bookmarked all the sites so I could observe any daily changes in the system.

I didn’t yet fully appreciate how poor my scanning skills were. It took over an hour to identify every single mysterious signal, although I did find myself in an enjoyable, meditative state during this work.

Once the scan list was all green, I noticed that there was only one good site to explore amongst a multitude of gas reservoirs. Though I had expected more of them, I was overjoyed to finally find a relic site. I had read that they could yield the most valuable loot.

This time I concentrated on the hacking. I carefully plotted my advance on the network of nodes. My poor skills and tech one modules left only a thin margin for error. My focus was paying off. I managed to open cans on the first or second try. On the sage advice of my co-pilot, Allison, I did not stop checking my directional scanner. It had been clear the entire time apart from my own probes. As I opened the last container, an astero suddenly showed up on the overview. It had been invisible right up until the opportune moment, and was now only a few thousand meters from me. Panicked, I tried to warp to one of my safespots. My onboard computer informed me that my ship was prevented from entering warp by external factors. I then tried to move away as fast as possible to get out of the range of those external factors. What stopped me from entering warp also prevented my microwarpdrive functioning. I was now a sitting duck, and a very slow one, at that.

The damage alarms of my ship started ringing. A flight of drones was tearing my shields and armor to shreds. This all happened quite fast. Before I knew it, I was in my pod, the remnants of my first Heron floating in space next to me. The destruction of my ship meant that my escape pod was free to warp away. I did so, aiming for one of the recently bookmarked wormholes. I warped back and forth between them until I found one that led to high sec. Once out of there, I caught my breath at the nearest station.

I started to rethink the modules I had fitted on my exploration ship. Would warp core stabilizers have helped me escape the Astero’s tackle? My logs only showed that I had been scrambled.

I went to look for my killmail on zKill. From there, I went to see if I could find a ship loss from the pilot that downed me. Maybe looking at one of their wrecks would teach me how to escape next time. Indeed, their only two losses were of Asteros with similar fits. Both times, fitted with dual warp scramblers. So, even with a higher warp core strength, I would not have escaped. I also discovered something else while looking at the kill reports of my foe. This Astero pilot was indeed hunting explorers. With over seven hundred confirmed kills, the vast majority had taken place in Jxxxxxx. My ship logs also revealed that during the combat, I had been energy neutralised. On an Astero, it would mean that no probe launcher was fitted. It was made only to kill, waiting patiently cloaked in the shadows. My theory is that his alt probably scans the wormhole down and runs all the sites, leaving only one as a perfect trap for an unsuspecting explorer.

I went from being a little frustrated by the loss, to be completely fascinated by this capsuleer. They had found their niche, and lived in wormhole space like a spider.

I love EVE Online !

Pollyanna

Void Raven

“Well, that was uneventful,” I say, relieved. “My kind of trip. We got your new Guardian safely back to Zoo, T’ali.”

T’ali and I have returned from Dodixie where she had bought a Guardian for her Signal Cartel fleet activities. She had initially planned to get an Augoror, but, as so often happens, she had upgraded her ride to something sweeter.

“That we did. Thanks for scouting ahead. You did well. Although, to be honest, that’s what I would have expected from someone focused on explo in Signal Cartel.” T’ali smiles and thumps me on the back as we walk out of the ship hanger. Caught off-guard by both her exuberant display of camaraderie and the vigor by which she delivers it, I stumble, and she grabs my arm to keep me from falling.

“Woah…careful there. Seems you are as fragile as a bird, Void Raven,” she says, emphasizing my last name and flapping her arms for added effect.

I glare at her. “What the…? Not funny T’ali, okay? And I’m not the one who needs to be careful.”

“Oh, have we become grumpy? Lighten up, will you? It’s all in good nature. Hey, want to go back to the bar for another drink before we call it a night?”

“I’ll skip. I think I’ll just go back to my apartment and get an early night.”

“So… sulking now, too? Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me for the next hour or so.” We only met a few hours ago, but already I’ve come to realize that she can be so damn annoying. We walk a little further together, before I turn to go my separate way. As I walk away from her, T’ali says, “You still got that angst about the future after our discussion at the bar earlier tonight, Void Raven?”

I look back at her, “Yes. Of course I do. Deep-seated concerns that have built up within one over a period of several months don’t simply evaporate after only a few minutes of conversation with a stranger.” T’ali motions towards a bench nearby, sits down and with a tilt of her head invites me to join her. “For the record, T’ali, I think you are underestimating the threat posed by the Triglavians and are overconfident in your – in our – capabilities. We downplay their arrival to our peril. Have you watched that message from the Triglavian Collective? It’s downright ominous. I have recurring nightmares in which they are speaking directly to me in that haunting asynchronous voicing of theirs and they brand me as a ‘Narodnya lacking in fitness’ and expel me from the Flow of Vyraj.” I look down at the ground and continue, “The red darkness is coming, and I fear it won’t be stopped.”

“Yes, I have listened to it. So what? Some ancient fools trying to sound spooky to frighten us? Sure, there’s lightning in the distance and thunder rumbling on the horizon and the winds have picked up. But I say, ‘Bring it on.’”

I shake my head, astonished by her unflappable manner. While I’m glad to have finally found someone in T’ali to talk to about my concerns, in truth, I’m not receiving much in the way of understanding or empathy from her. She is outwardly so carefree and projects confidence at a level that I can only dream about.

I lock the fingers of my hands together. “There’s also something else, but I hesitate to bring it up. You’ll laugh at me.”

She looks taken aback. “Hey, that’s not fair, Void Raven. I’m the first to admit that I joke around and make light of life. But I have never laughed at you for any of the concerns you shared with me.”

I nod my head. “Sorry,” I mumble.

“So…?” she presses.

“Never mind. It’s stupid.” I stand up from the bench.

“Hold on. You’re not getting out of this so easily,” she says, firmly pulling me back down. “Tell me what it is.”

Now she’s like a slaver hound with a bone. “The Society of Conscious Thought,” I reply.

“What of them?”

“There have been rumors in the past; allegations that they provided the Jove technology used in the development of the slave implants that enabled Sansha Kuvakei to establish his Sansha’s Nation. And over the past few years the SoCT has handed out Jove ships in large numbers for free. Why? From nowhere, a crazy thought comes to me. What if similar tech has been surreptitiously embedded in those ships that are now spread all over New Eden? And then one day, a switch is flipped somewhere by someone, and these ships suddenly take over mind control of the Capsuleers piloting them, and they become like rogue drones in service to a hidden agenda that SoCT have been patiently planning for years?” Taking a deep breath, I study T’ali, trying to gauge her reaction to my, admittedly, wild conjecture. But all I see and hear are her inscrutable face and a stunned silence. Now, though, it is my chance to press her. “Well…? Fedo got your tongue?”

“Umm…I think you’re stuck so deep in a conspiracy theory, that we’d need a Titan to pull you out.”

“See? You’re laughing on the inside. I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned this.”

“Oh, I’m not laughing. I’m not entirely sure what the correct response is to what you said. But I will give you credit for originality of thought.”

“And now you’re mocking me.”

“Okay, listen to me, Void Raven. You’re all doom and gloom. You’re filled with inner stress and turmoil and you see monsters lurking wherever you look. And I can see that my lighthearted attitude is adding frustration into the mix. Look, you need a distraction; something to take your mind off things. Now, there’s one thing that works like a charm to reduce pent up frustration and stress. One thing. Works every time. For everybody. What you need is a good f….”

“T’ali!” I exclaim, suddenly wrenched into a completely different frame of mind. “Language! By the Sisters, watch your tongue. Credo, remember?”

“fleet outing.” She creases her forehead. “What… what did you think I was going to say?” She holds out her cupped hands to me as if they are holding something valuable, a mischievous mien upon her face. “Here, I think this is your mind. I found it languishing in the gutter.” She pauses briefly, before continuing with that disarming smile of hers, “Although that would work too. And with fewer people and less travel involved, there’s not as much planning required. But seriously, a fleet outing would show you just how capable we are and would boost your confidence.”

Even though I’m chuckling inside, on the outside I’m squirming uncomfortably in the intensity of her gaze upon me.

“You definitely do blush in Triglavian Red, Void Raven. Quite the shrinking violet, aren’t you?”

“Can we just change the subject? Haven’t you embarrassed me enough yet? Well, anyway, now I won’t be able to go to sleep, so how about that drink you mentioned earlier?”

T’ali smiles and nods her head approvingly.

“You’re a real Pollyanna, you know,” I say.

She shrugs. “Well, I’ll be the Pollyanna to your Cassandra. Sound about right to you? Does to me,” she says with a wink.

That brings a spontaneous smile to my face. T’ali can be so direct and exasperating, but there’s also something about her that suggests friendship between us is not out of the question.

Cry ‘Havoc!’

“Cry ‘Havoc!’, and let slip the dogs of war.”
-Mark Antony, Act 3, Scene 1 in Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare

Void Raven

I love to shower. The gushing sound, the warm water striking the top of my head and then cascading down over my body and the steam swirling in the enclosed space, softening sharp angles, all combine to transport me away, if only temporarily, to somewhere quiescent and removed from the concerns of daily life. Finally washed free of viscous pod goo, I turn off the water and reach for the towel on the heating rack through lingering steam. Warm, luxurious fluffiness envelopes me. The soothing sensation of toweling continues to distract me from the real world, repelling an unease that has been building insidiously within me over the past several months.

A short time later, I’m dressed again, and my anxieties slowly make their return. I need another distraction; something fun and entertaining.

“I wonder if there are any Signaleers hanging out at the bar tonight? I’ll head down there for a drink and some laughs”, I think as I look out the window at the giant nebula so prominent in my home system.

The station orbiting Zoohen III is owned and administered by the Amarr Theology Council Tribunal, the last great vestige of the religious sect that once ruled the Amarrian empire and they enforce strict moral policies. Unsurprisingly then, given the stultifying environment, there are only a handful of official bars and they adhere strictly to rules that serve solely to curtail enjoyment. Thus, I prefer the lively, unregistered underground bars that do their best to remain “under-the-radar”. But I am not completely naïve. Patronizing these establishments carries some risk – they are outside the capsuleer zones and in the baseliner districts, where capsuleers must tread more cautiously, and there is also the possibility that there are informants that provide information to the authorities that is useful in conducting raids of such places.

Arriving at the pub, I don’t immediately see anyone I recognize from Signal Cartel. It’s a great little place, with low lighting and strings of small colored lights hanging from the ceiling and walls and draped over an assortment of eclectic decorations and other accessories strewn about. A guitarist is playing in the corner. There are always some baseliners present here and even though the pod connection ports on my body are hidden by my clothing – so that I don’t stand out as a capsuleer – they can tell. I think it’s just the way I carry myself.

In this pub, capsuleers are usually tolerated, so long as we try to blend in and don’t flaunt our privileged position. Tonight, though is different. As I walk past one of the tables, an elderly man stands up in front of me, blocking my way with an outstretched arm to my chest.

“My son. My son…”, he begins. I know what is coming next. “He… he died on a ship piloted by one of your kind.” He narrows his eyes. “I hate you all”, he says venomously.

I look straight ahead, silent. His friends quickly pull him back down into his seat. One of them whispers something into his ear. No-one wants a confrontation here that will bring in the authorities. As I continue to walk past him, he spits onto my boots and makes a universally recognizable rude gesture with both his hands.

A little shaken, I sit down at the bar counter and, on the other side, Tharu walks over.

“Hey Void… sorry about that. How’s it going otherwise? What brings you in tonight?”

I like Tharu, he’s unpretentious and genuinely friendly to capsuleers; he doesn’t harbor the loathing for us that so many baseliners, like the man earlier, do. I can’t fault them really; we do leave the death of innocents in the wake of our vanity. But we also defend New Eden and all her inhabitants against deadly threats. A matter that has been welling inside me of late.

“Yeah…don’t worry about that guy. Doing okay thanks, Tharu. You? I lost a Helios today so I had to come back to re-ship. Where’s everyone tonight?”

“Out tending and sowing – it’s Crinklefest II”, he replies.

“Oh yeah, right. I should be doing that too. But I’m here now; I’ll just stay for a drink or two and then go out tomorrow.”

“Sorry about the ship, Void. I know it’s hard for you when that happens. So… whiskey then?” he asks.

“Yup”, I reply. I always have a whiskey after losing a ship. In remembrance of my crew – whom I have failed. It’s an insignificant, ultimately meaningless gesture, but it’s my tradition. My way of saying sorry and goodbye.

“You know, you don’t look like you’re doing okay. Sure everything’s fine?” Tharu is also perceptive.

“Well… honestly, I’m becoming more concerned about the future.”

“Oooooh… deep stuff there, Void. But if you capsuleers are beginning to feel uneasy about the future, well then…”, he trails off.

“So, what is it about the future that concerns you?”, a voice says to my left.

Startled, I turn to look at the stranger sitting next to me. She’s drinking a beer and staring straight ahead.

“Do you always listen in on the conversations of others?” I ask.

She turns to look at me. As jet-black as my hair is, hers shimmers in juxtaposition, like we are opposing pieces on a chessboard. Her hair frames a face of ochre clay with bangs falling over her eyebrows. Absurdly luminous eyes study me intently. A ‘Y’ shaped scar runs from her top lip to the base of her nose and a single, dark tattooed stripe runs from her forehead over her right eye, curving off over her cheekbone towards her ear. A small sparkle emanates from her left earlobe. She takes a sip of her beer. An inscription is tattooed on her forearm, but I can’t make it out in the light.

“T’alisque Agittain ”, she says. “Fellow Signaleer. Just joined Signal Cartel and still finding my way around. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Void Raven.”

“Wha… What?” I stammer. “How do you… how do you know my name and that I’m in Signal Cartel?”

She shrugs her shoulders, “Read your recent interview with Katia Sae and saw your picture. And heard you talking to Tharu about Crinklefest II.”

I nod my head sheepishly as I feel the heat flush across my face.

T’alisque smiles and says, “Has anyone ever told you that you blush in Triglavian Red, Void Raven?”

“No. And you can just call me Void.”

“Hmm… not sure I will. Thing is, I like your full name. Got a shadowy ring to it. But my name, on the other hand, is a mouthful – so I just go by T’ali. What do you do here?”

“SAR stuff; exploration – and a little research on wormholes, Drifters and Trigs on the side.”

“Okay, that’s great. Me, I like fleets. Taking the fight to the sleepers. Logi or DPS. So now, with introductions out of the way, I’m still curious – what about the future concerns you?”

“Well… where to start? Things have become way more unsettled in New Eden over the past year. You know, first it was the discovery of abyssal space, then came the Triglavian Invasions in – of all places – high sec, followed by the Drifter Invasions in null, which then experiences a black out, because the Secure Commerce Commission can’t keep their damn fluid router network up. And now we have emerging conduits and Trig patrols springing up everywhere. Oh, and don’t forget that the Trigs are fond of the word ‘extirpation’. What I’m saying is things are more freaking chaotic. And it concerns me… a lot. Frightens me, even.”

I stop to catch my breath. T’ali is just looking at me, beer in hand. Her tattoo is more visible now and I notice it is written in a language unfamiliar to me.

“Huh. Well, aren’t you just a regular little ray of starlight, Void Raven? Tell me, are you always like this? Because if you are, I’ll have to do my drinking with other Signaleers, okay? You do know the Drifters have gone back to their filthy, stinking Hives and the null blackout is over, right? Shouldn’t that count as good news?”

“How can we be sure the Drifters won’t come back, in even greater numbers and with more force? And they say null could blackout again without notice”, I grumble.

T’ali nods her head, “Hmmm… fair point”, and then continues, “Listen – first, don’t panic okay? We’ve got this covered – us capsuleers, including you. We may not have all the answers yet, but we’ve always come through before when faced with threats and we’ll do so again. Sure, the threats today may seem more acute, but we’ll just up our game to match theirs. We will need to fight though… I think there’s no getting around that. It does seem like there’s a storm brewing on the horizon. Everyone will have to do their bit – the industrial class will build the machines of war and the warrior class will rain havoc upon the enemy. And so on, you know.”

T’ali checks the time. “Oh… shoot… I’ve got to run. Say, I just had an idea. I need to buy an Augeror in Dodixie for a sleeper fleet tomorrow. With the current wardec, I could use someone to scout ahead for me on the way back. You interested, Void Raven?”

“I just showered a little over an hour ago to clean off pod goo”, I say. T’ali raises her eyebrows.

“Okay, sure, I’ll scout for you, T’ali. And it’s Void”, I say – again.

“Great! Let’s go. I’ll meet you outside Zoo and we can fleet up.”

We get up to leave, and T’ali suddenly grabs my arm.

“Oh, by the way, I saw you glance a few times at the tattoo on my arm. Want to know what it says? Here, take a look.” She steps closer, holding out her forearm for me to read the tattoo.

“’Si vis pacem, para bellum.’ Well, it sounds good I guess, but I have no idea what it means”, I say.

T’ali looks me directly in the eyes, and replies, “It’s a very ancient language and it means ‘If you want peace, prepare for war’, Void Raven.”

A Personal Pilgrimage To Saisio

May 01, YC121: A few days prior to joining Signal Cartel.

Void Raven

Void Raven glanced at the route navigation display in her Astero. She was in Naamo with only one jump remaining to her destination. Her heartbeat quickened with anticipation. She had finally found some time to make the trip to Saisio and visit the Katia Sae monument. When she had first learnt of Katia Sae’s remarkable achievement to visit every single system in known space and Anoikis and without losing a single ship, it had immediately and forever altered her world in a most fundamental and profound way. And shortly thereafter, when she had read about the monument newly anchored in Saisio by the Achura Stargazers Society in association with Signal Cartel, to commemorate this triumph of the human spirit, she instantly knew that she would have to visit it to pay her respects. Void had chosen to make the trip to Saisio in an Astero in homage to the same ship that Katia Sae had used in her endeavor. While enroute, she absently thought about how it might have been preferable to have not come across any photographs of the statue prior to her trip as she felt that it might lessen the impact of seeing it in person for the first time. But Void need not have been worried, as she was soon to discover.

The Astero exited its intra-system warp in Naamo and began slowing down as it approached the Saisio gate for the final jump. Void braced for the jump. Even though she was in her protective capsule filled with hydrostatic fluid – also known as “pod goo” – that served to significantly reduce, but not eliminate, the physical impact and stresses of space travel on the human body and she had made many gate jumps in the past, she still felt oppressively claustrophobic and anxious in the warp tunnel. Void was always queasy and disoriented with labored breathing for several seconds after completing inter-system jumps, which made the automatic gate cloak on the exit side of a jump all the more valuable to her. At last she was in Saisio. The monument was off the Abagawa gate and so she aligned to it and set warp to 50km.

Upon landing at the gate, she quickly and excitedly looked around to see where the statue was, somehow missing it the first time. But then she saw it. Her heart skipped a beat and were she not in a pod filled with “goo”, the sight would have taken her breath away and she would have instinctively raised a hand to cover a mouth open in awe. Burnished bronze in color, clearly huge in scale even from this distance and glowing with reflected light from the M0 Orange Radiant sun in Saisio, it was…in a word…resplendent. The translucent plinth on which it was raised incorporated banks of powerful spotlights around the outside perimeter that shone both upwards to illuminate the statue and downward to give the appearance that it was being supported on a beam of light from the depths. Void felt that the statue perfectly captured the vast scope of Katia Sae’s achievement and the dedication and perseverance that she and her fellow signaleers exhibited to see it through to successful conclusion. She now approached the statue very slowly, gingerly guiding her Astero closer to inspect the details.

“Careful now, Void.”, she thought, “The last thing you want to do is crash into the monument and leave a mark, or worse, break off an arm…that would be nothing short of devastating. You know how careless you are at times and how clumsy you can be at others.”, she cautioned herself as thoughts of her numerous tripping incidents on the old rug back in her apartment came to mind. Yes…she should get around to replacing that rug.

The pose and attire of Katia Sae were both elegant and sophisticated. One foot was placed at an angle in front of the other, the right arm hung loosely down the side of the body while the left was upraised and slightly bent at both elbow and wrist in a shape, from Void’s viewpoint, somewhat reminiscent of a sweeping ‘S’ with a long tail. The left hand, with upturned palm, was higher in elevation than the head. Floating above the palm was a beautiful blue-white star. As she cautiously maneuvered around the statue, between it and the sun, her Astero cast a shadow on it and as she kept moving, the shadow distorted and rippled in keeping with the curves of the statue and folds in the clothing. It was all rather surreal.

Void guided her Astero toward the head and palm to take a closer look. The star had three planets and a ghostly, ethereal apparition of Katia Sae’s Astero in orbit around it. While the planets were fixed in location, the Astero was not, and it ever so slowly moved purposefully in its orbit, solitary and forever. She considered the star. Although it was but a single star, it represented so much more in that it embodied all the suns in each of the 7,805 individual systems that Katia Sae had visited over a nine-year span.

“That’s a lot of significance for one small star to carry.”, Void thought in admiration. “And is the reason it shines so brightly.”

Photo credit Tamayo

She turned her Astero around to look at the face and brought it to a stop. Katia’s face, which seemed vaguely enigmatic to Void, was looking up at the star in the palm of her hand and also perhaps beyond it as if to convey that she might be thinking of what was to come next. But what could that be? What does someone do after they have been everywhere and seen everything? How does one resolve the tension that must exist when the lust to wander is still there, but the space in which to do so, is not? Nonetheless, there was a silent, unassuming confidence in that gaze toward the future, thought Void. She looked deep into the eyes and in her mind, Void stood to attention, saluted and thought “Katia, you justifiably stand tall among the giants in the history of New Eden.”

She remained there for a little while longer quietly absorbing the setting. It was moments like these that imparted much-needed, cathartic balance to an otherwise harsh, grim and dangerous New Eden.

“Someone ought to write a poem about this.”, she reflected.

With that, the solemn, respectful part of her visit came to an end and it was now time for the fun part. She was going to celebrate with, what else, but fireworks. After all, that’s how they did it in Signal Cartel so she should do the same, she reasoned. She was excited and eager to see the spectacle she was about to unleash. The festival launcher was loaded and ready and she gave the command to launch. Nothing. “What? Launch fireworks.” she gave the order again. Again nothing. “Are they duds, perhaps?” she wondered. And then a realization; “Oh…I see. Even though they are fireworks I still need to lock a target to be able to launch them. They are not like regular fireworks.” How in Anoikis had she missed that little nuance during capsuleer school? Likely it had been discussed at one of the several early morning classes at which she had arrived late as a consequence of partying a little bit too long the night before – she was Gallente after all, and Gallenteans were known for their partying, among other hedonistic interests. Looking around for objects to target she didn’t see that many – there was the statue, the stargate and the CONCORD ships patrolling in its vicinity. Even though she was only launching fireworks, the latter two, as targets, seemed to her no better than tempting fate. So that of course left the statue.

“I don’t know how appropriate it is to shoot fireworks at the statue as opposed to around it.” she pondered. But it was the only target available and she did want to launch some fireworks, so…”Be bold, Void.”, she thought.

Photo credit Erinn Ituin

Void locked the statue and launched her fireworks. The result was beautiful and wondrous; the fireworks were sweeping and flying through space all around her. A big smile came to her face. And then disappeared as quickly as it had arrived; her reverie ending as suddenly as it had begun. A sinking feeling crept through her body and settled in the pit of her stomach. She looked with dismay at the statue. There was a large, obvious black blemish where the fireworks had struck it. “No, no, no, no, no! What have I done?” she thought mortified. Now, Void had no problem with the color black. She liked black – it was her favorite color; technically it was an absence of light and color she knew, but nonetheless she thought of it as a color. Fashion-wise black went pretty much with anything, which made dressing in the morning easier. Her hair was jet-black. Her name, Void Raven, had connotations to black. Her mother’s name – Black Raven – even more so. That last thought though, about her mother, caused some inner demons to start roiling but she expertly shut them down. She didn’t have time for that right now. So, it wasn’t the color that caused her consternation, it was the fact that despite her best intentions she had still managed to vandalize the monument.

“Brilliant. Just brilliant.”, she reprimanded herself.

She looked away; she couldn’t look at the statue that she had just defaced. She had visions of having to contact Katia Sae, the Achura Stargazers Society, Signal Cartel and perhaps even CONCORD and explain what she had done, convey her sincere apologies and offer to pay restitution for the restoration of the statue. Would she even be able to afford that? This was analogous to that other time, when, in trying to dock her Imicus, she hadn’t been paying attention and had accidentally bumped into and scratched the new, shiny Proteus moving alongside her. She had immediately contacted the owner and offered to pay for repairs, but fortunately he had been very nice about the whole incident and had said not to worry.

“These new scratches – they look just like extra killmarks so I think I might leave them as is.”, he said with a wink and a smile. The current situation was of course much larger in scope and distress.

“What am I going to do? How am I going to recover from this one?”, she asked herself, a sense of helplessness pervading her mind.

As these thoughts were swirling around, Void found the fortitude to look at the statue again. She stared at it and then blinked a few times; her face painted with confusion…the black blemish was shrinking of its own accord! Somehow, the residue from the fireworks was dissipating off the surface of the statue. Deep feelings of relief and joy swept over her. She waited until the blemish had entirely disappeared, to satisfy herself that there was no lingering damage to the monument. Thus satisfied, she gleefully expended her entire remaining inventory of fireworks with the uninhibited, joyous abandon of a young child and it was a sight to behold. From somewhere, a thought that perhaps she should apply to join Signal Cartel found its way into Void’s mind.

Editor’s Note: Photo credits Void Raven unless otherwise noted.

Joining Signal Cartel – Part II

May 4, YC121


Void Raven

Void awoke with a start, sunlight flooding the room. Waking up suddenly two days in a row? That had never happened before. And she felt a strange, vexing premonition inside her. This day was not going to be normal…not by a long shot. She stood up from the couch to get her usual morning cup of coffee, narrowly avoiding yet another tripping incident on the old rug with the upturned corners, but only because her stride this time happened to fall in her favor. As her bare feet touched the rug, she thought again about how she really ought to replace it. In the kitchenette she hesitated on pouring herself some coffee… she wasn’t sure if she really felt like it given the peculiar feeling she was carrying around. What was she to make of this? While thus in thought, the doorbell to her apartment rang pulling Void away from her contemplations. “Who in Anoikis could that be?” she wondered as she was not expecting anyone.

She opened the door and saw a Minmatar woman older than herself, with dark skin, orange hair in braids and a tattoo comprised of three sweeping black lines on her forehead, looking back at her.

“Void Raven?” the stranger asked in a soft, soothing voice.

“I’m sorry. Do I know you?” Void asked in reply.

“No. No, you don’t. Nonetheless, we should talk. I have something to say that you should hear.” said the stranger. “Something that will change your future. Will you invite me in?”

“You can see the future?” asked Void dubiously.

“I do foresee us sitting on your couch and having an important discussion very shortly.” she replied with a warm smile, “And drinking coffee.”, she added quickly as the aroma of coffee wafted over from the kitchenette. “But no. I do not see the future. Now, are you going to invite me in? I’m a miner by profession and I cannot stay long as I have a fleet waiting impatiently for me to provide mining bursts. Besides, my irritability index increases exponentially the longer I’m away from mining barges and asteroid belts.”, she said with a wink. “Also, time is ISK and all that.”

Shortly thereafter, the two of them were sitting on the couch, drinking coffee and looking through the window at the planet below, an awkward silence between them. In the course of walking back from the door, getting coffee and moving to the couch, Void had, not surprisingly, managed to stumble on the rug again, but the stranger, possessing a more refined situational awareness than Void apparently did – gained from several years of mining in New Eden, which was often a hazardous endeavor, especially when CODE pilots were lurking around – deftly avoided a similar fate. When Void could no longer stand the lengthy silence, a silence the stranger seemed to have decided that Void should be the one to break, she finally asked, “So what is it that you wanted to tell me?”

The stranger briefly thought to say, “I think you should consider replacing that old rug.”, but didn’t. Still looking out the window, the stranger replied, “Several years ago, I was in your position as new capsuleer, facing a despondently lengthy period of skill training to progress in my profession, when a series of events conspired to place a benefit in my path.”

“A benefit? What kind of benefit? What for? Why? What has all of this to do with me?” Void rattled off several questions all at once, eager to arrive at some truth of what was transpiring.

The stranger continued, “The benefit was one of knowledge essence, of experience. Today, I am in need of repaying that benefit. I offer a portion of my knowledge and experience to you. It is my sincere hope that you will accept it.”

Void froze. The stranger was talking about skillpoint transfer…and…injectors. And for the first time Void noticed the bag on the couch next to the stranger. Ever since she had become aware that skillpoint transfer between capsuleers was possible, Void had always been deeply conflicted about it. On the one hand it felt morally suspect, if not unethical, like one was unfairly privileged, or “had jumped ahead in line” or had been given an undeserved advantage. On the other hand, there were capsuleers who had knowledge in areas they no longer required. In such cases, transferring what amounted to dormant knowledge in one person to another who would benefit from it, surely should also be of benefit to society as a whole, would it not? Furthermore, it was clear that knowledge had value; who could say that it should not be traded by willing participants on open, transparent markets or voluntarily donated by some to others?

Being Gallente, she had an affinity for, and often came down on the side of, individual liberty. However, she had also heard of skill farming, which to her sounded like it could be the dark side of knowledge transfer. How were people in skill farms treated, for one? If history were any guide, quite possibly not very well and it could even be that they barely survived in abject misery. What if the pirate factions were involved in skill farms? Void could only imagine the possible horrors. Could she trust and have confidence that governmental and private humanitarian organizations in New Eden would never permit that to happen? She had not heard any negative news stories about this topic on The Scope or elsewhere, so she presumed – hoped, really – that the state of affairs in this area should not be of undue concern to her, yet these doubts never truly went away. At her thought of pirates, some familiar inner demons suddenly became restless again, releasing deep and painful memories…and grief. But she had become accomplished at defending herself against these demons and expertly pushed them back down into the depths; however the grief always stayed a little longer…like an unwelcome guest.

“You’re awfully quiet, Void.” the stranger said, looking over in her direction and reaching out to gently touch her arm.

“Why are you doing this? Why me?” asked Void softly, her voice starting to quiver a little and tears forming in her eyes as she fought against the grief, trying to hold it all together in the presence of the stranger.

“I cannot offer an explanation that will entirely satisfy. We share a deeper connection and I’m strongly guided by that connection to do this.” The stranger stood up suddenly. “It is time for me to leave. I wasn’t really joking about my irritability index earlier. I’m most at ease when I hear the music that is the humming of mining lasers.” She walked to the door, leaving the bag behind on the couch.

Void stood up too. “What is this connection between us? What are you saying?” Void asked, exasperation in her voice. The stranger ignored her questions and just shook her head, continuing towards the door.

“You haven’t asked me to what end I might use your gift. Whether for good or ill.” Void called out to the stranger.

The stranger turned around, “It is not for me to ask. And neither for me to know, if you do not wish to tell me.” and then turned back toward the door.

“I will use it to the benefit of all in New Eden, without fear or favor, in the service of Signal Cartel.” said Void, even though she wasn’t yet at all sure that she would actually use it.

The stranger turned her head once more and studied Void intently for a minute, all the while avoiding direct eye contact, and nodded. “A worthy cause.” With that she left the apartment, as abruptly as she had arrived.

Void stared after her. “She could not look me in the eyes.” she noted to herself.

On the other side of the door, the stranger leaned with her back against the wall in the corridor looked upwards and breathed out deeply. “I’m so sorry, Black. I hope I have made amends.” she whispered ever so softly.

Back in the apartment and filled with a mixture of gratitude for the gift, albeit tempered by her conflicting principles regarding skill transfer, a resurgence of her earlier grief – that today seemed more resilient against her efforts to banish it – and the distressing unanswered questions swirling around in her head, Void sunk to the floor, floundering in a deep, murky pool of mixed emotions. Who was this stranger? What was their connection? Was she really considering injecting knowledge essence from an utter stranger into herself? Did doing so show her to be no more than some base vampiric monster? On this last point, she felt queasy, shameful, appalled. But then something came to her mind. A beacon of sorts. The Credo. Among other ideals, it spoke of personal sacrifice in service to New Eden – something that she wanted to aspire to. The Credo offered her purpose and guidelines by which she could forge herself a good life in an otherwise grim and harsh universe. Within these thoughts, a calmness and tranquility descended on Void that allowed her to claw her way out of the pit she was in. She saw the gift in a more positive light. The stranger had sacrificed of herself for Void in providing her with this gift…was she going to let that be in vain?

Later that day as darkness was approaching and Void had finally resolved to proceed after much inner turmoil, soul searching and acquiescence to her Gallentean heritage of individual liberty, she picked up the bag from the couch, walked into the dimly lit bathroom and faced the mirror. How naïve she still was despite what she had already experienced in life…life was hard in New Eden and there were few easy decisions one could make. Inside the bag were a few injectors. She picked one up. It was large. The fluid inside was translucent cyan and seemed to glow softly. She imagined she could see ethereal swirls and eddies constantly moving within it giving the impression that it was…somehow alive? Running along one side of the main tube and attached to it, was a small pressurized tube that, when activated, expelled the fluid from the injector.

The fingers of her right hand curled around it. The injector protruded from either side of her fist. The end that attached to the injection port at the base of the skull had six angry looking claw-like protrusions whose purpose was to ensure an airtight seal between device and human. The delivery needle was long and menacing. She shivered. In the mirror, she looked at herself in the face. Someone she didn’t recognize, a face that was drawn, solemn, resolute, stared back at her. With her left hand she found the injection port and guided the needle in while the right hand clipped and twisted the injector firmly into place, a prominent “click” indicating success. There was no pain as the needle slid in, just a peculiar tingling sensation that propagated to all her extremities. She took a deep breath and activated the injector.

Some time later, Void was sitting on the bathroom floor, her back to the wall, knees pulled up against her chest. The empty injectors lay around her, some with broken cylinders, glass shards scattered everywhere, as she had simply let the devices slip from her grasp and fall to the floor when they were spent. Void was emotionally drained, some lingering doubts about what she had done still putting up a dying fight against leaving her mind. Yet, she also felt excited and more optimistic for the future, feelings that were slowly growing stronger and would hopefully continue to do so. But she had a sadness too, for she realized that she had not even bothered to ask the stranger her name. Ashamed, she lowered her head onto her knees and willingly surrendered to sleep. Void knew that she had lost yet another part of her innocence today, but why did it have to be so soon in her life? All the while, inside her brain, neurons had already feverishly begun the complex dance to reconfigure and rewire themselves to expand her mental capacity, eagerly reaching out to one another to make synaptic connections that hadn’t existed before.