Stacking

Stacking refers to the use of multiple modules or ship modifications (rigs) that affect the same attribute, eg. optimal range, kinetic shield resistance, tracking speed, etc.

The modules involved do not have to be the same or even of the same type. For example, the benefit to kinetic armour resistance granted by an Energized Adaptive Nano Membrane module stacks onto the benefit from a Armor Kinetic Hardener module.

Whilst stacking modules is often necessary and desirable there are in most cases drawbacks to it.

• Diminishing Returns

  This only applies when the module affects an attribute with a definite limit. The most common example of this is shield and armour resistance modifiers – there is an absolute ceiling of 100% resistance that the module moves you towards. In cases like this the gain that the module grants is the stated percentage of the difference between your current value and the logical maximum.

  For example, if your armour has a base 40% resistance to EM damage and you fit a module that grants 50% to EM resistance, your actual gain is 50% of 60% = 30% (60% being the difference between your starting 40% and the maximum of 100%) giving you a new value of 70%.

  If your armour has a base 60% resistance to EM damage and you fit a module that grants 50% to EM resistance, your actual gain is 50% of 40% = 20% giving you a new value of 80%.

  So we can see clearly that the closer your starting value is to the maximum, the lower the actual benefit you receive.

• The Stacking Penalty

  You may have seen the wording “Penalty: Using more than one type of this module or similar modules that affect the same attribute on the ship will be penalized.” in the description of various modules.

  This functions in addition to the diminishing returns we see above and also applies to modules that affect attributes that do not have an absolute limit, for example the hybrid weapon damage module Magnetic Field Stabilizer.

  The stacking penalty reduces the base effect of the module by a fixed percentage depending on how many modules affecting the same attribute have been fitted.

  First module: 100% of stated value
  Second module: 86.9% of stated value
  Third module: 58.9% of stated value
  Fourth module: 32.4% of stated value
  Fifth module: 14.3% of stated value
  Sixth module: 5.0% of stated value
  Seventh module: 1.3% of stated value
  Eighth module: 0.3% of stated value

  So the highly detrimental effect of using multiple modules with a stacking penalty affecting the same attribute is clear. This is even more considerably pronounced when combined with diminishing returns. Using our EM resist example again with a base value of 40%, a fourth 50% EM resistance hardener would only actually add 1.7% resistance giving a total of 89.6%. An eighth would add 0.005% making a total of 90.3%.

But there are examples of modules that do not suffer either of these drawbacks. Any module that does not have a stacking penalty and the affected attribute does not have a logical maximum will stack normally.

The classic example of this is cargo expanders. A ship with a base 100m3 cargo bay and one Beta Hull Mod Expanded Cargo module, which grants a 25% bonus, would have 125m3. If a second module were added it would grant an additional 125 x 25% = 31.25 making a total of 156.25m3.

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POE #4: Things all players should know

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

‘Hey, Al, would you do us a favour?’

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

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

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

‘You’re what?!’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is business to discuss.

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

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

STARKE: (still smiling)
Is this yours?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Nefantar commander nods.

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

As he speaks, STARKE murmurs to EDGRIET.

STARKE:
Is this what you expected from your people?

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

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

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

NIKITTA nods. Smiling, STARKE holds his hand out.

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

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

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

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

The children nod. The captain smiles broadly.

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

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

KOMAR:
I told them you could do anything.

STARKE smiles proudly.

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

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Space Captain Starke and the Refugees of Ubtes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

EDGRIET:
Starke, where the Hel have you been?

STARKE and AVION exchange a look.

STARKE:
The clone bay, updating.

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

STARKE:
What’ve we got?

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

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

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

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

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

STARKE:
We’re at your command.

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

EDGRIET:
To your ships, then, gentlemen.

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

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

STARKE is frowning at the datapad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Ammatar had arrived, and they were not happy.

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

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

”Libbies’. Starke, you cheeky bastard…’

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

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

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

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

A fight? ‘Who’s involved?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘And if the slaver ships land?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Space Captain Starke and the Slaver Fleet of Amarr

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I bet Capt’n Starke could do it—‘

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

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

‘They shut the water off?’

The tall girl nodded. ‘I think so.’

‘But we… we need the water…’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The woman looks down at her hands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Prepare to run. We’re coming for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘What? Of course. Let him in.’

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

‘Commander.’

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

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

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

‘On the ship that brought your predecessors there?’

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

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

‘Go on, then.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Space Captain Starke and the Pride of Matar

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BaEB – Choosing a Topic

Picture credit: Wotlankor

Starting a new blog is always thrilling … because you never know, if you’ll be successful and if your readers will give you the appropriate feedback. Before going online with your EVE blog, there are a lot of things to consider. It isn’t done by simply installing Wordpress on your webserver or creating a blog on Podlogs.

• What is needed to start blogging?
• Which blog topic should I choose?
• How do I set up a blog?
• Where can I have my blog hosted?
• What should I do next, once my blog is up and running?
• etc.

These are questions often asked by beginners, and hopefully this series of articles in Become an EVE Blogger! (a.k.a BaEB) will help you to establish your blog after some time. Speaking of time: Maintaining a blog is very time consuming and requires a lot of commitment. Take CrazyKinux for example. He’s one of the most prominent bloggers outthere in the EVE community. He started his blog back in 2005 and he is still is enthuastic about it. In the last year his blog got a nice boost in readers and traffic, thanks to his monthly Blog Banters and community driven projects like The EVE Blog Pack. In another 12 months time, CK’s blog will continue to be one of the most established (if not the center) of player driven community sites, thanks to his commitment!

What does this mean for you, as an aspiring blogger?

To make it short: Look at your blog on a long-term basis … something you’d want to enjoy in 6 or 12 months time from now as well. Where do you want it to be in the future?

Think. Plan. Work on it everyday.

This upcoming series here on EVE-Mag.com will give you some useful insights and I hope, that you’ll enjoy this series and find some useful tips & tricks. Please feel free to contribute and share your experiences as an EVE blogger by commenting here on the site.

All the best,
Smak

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

Become an EVE Blogger! – Introduction

System Security Ratings and Security Status

All systems in EVE have a security rating which dictates the level of law enforcement that CONCORD, the npc police force, provides. This rating can be between 0.0 and 1.0 with higher numbers indicating a stronger CONCORD influence.

Systems with a security rating between 0.5 and 1.0, called high sec, have a permanent CONCORD presence.

Systems with a security rating between 0.1 and 0.4, called low sec, have no CONCORD presence other than static sentry guns, but penalties for breaking the law still apply.

Systems with a security rating of 0.0, called 0.0 or null sec, are lawless and CONCORD pays no attention to what goes on in them.

Note that system security actually ranges from -1.0 to +1.0 however anything below 0.0 is considered, and displayed as, 0.0. This “true security” rating is used to calculate npc pirate spawns and ore types present in the system. Additionally the number held by EVE has many decimal points but is displayed by the client as rounded to one decimal place. This can result in some systems with a reported security rating of 0.0 which are not. An example of this is Karan, which has a true security of 0.0447 but is displayed as 0.0. You will receive a security status penalty if you break the law in a system like this.

All characters have a security status between -10 and +5. A minus number gives an indication of a criminal record with CONCORD and a positive number indicates that the character is well liked by CONCORD, usually due to the destruction of large numbers of npc pirates.

Committing aggressive acts in low or high sec systems (also called Empire) without the appropriate right will result in a drop in your security status. The amount lost depends on the act committed, the security status of the system in which the event occurs and the security statuses of the characters involved. Ways in which rights to attack can be given include, war, factional warfare and criminal flagging.

Aggression includes acts on property, for example a station or wreck, as well as characters. It is also not restricted to weapon fire and includes stasis webifying, warp scrambling, target painting, etc. Locking is not considered an aggressive act, nor is using a ship or cargo scanner.

Theft does not result in a security status penalty but does criminally flag the thief to the character stolen from and members of their corporation if they are in a player corporation. This grants the victim attack rights against the thief for a 15 minute period.

A security status below -2 restricts access to systems with higher security ratings as shown in the table below. Entering a system with a too high security rating in anything other than your pod will result in CONCORD’s arrival and the destruction of your ship.

1.0: -2.0 and lower.
0.9: -2.5 and lower.
0.8: -3.0 and lower.
0.7: -3.5 and lower.
0.6: -4.0 and lower.
0.5: -4.5 and lower.
0.0-0.4: No restrictions.

A security status of -5 or lower flags the character as a global criminal and Kill on Sight (KoS). This allows any player to attack without CONCORD response or security status penalties.

You can increase your standing, even recovering lost standing, by killing npc pirates in asteroid belts or missions.

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

POE #3: Things all players should know

[The most dangerous game is an article transmitted from the data pad of the pirate zean xulunta. This column speaks about pirating in almost every aspect, ranging from what a pirate is all the way to how to avoid them.]

Last time I spoke about what my definition of a pirate was and I realize that it was a relatively short article. But this one will be much longer! (YAY!) Today I would like to speak about becoming a pirate… I know a lot of players when they first start to play aspire many things.. some want to be titan pilots in a month ( ^^ ) and some want to be pirates, this much reminds me of when we are children and we want to be an astronaut or a firefighter or whatnot.

Now, to begin with, being a pirate is not as simple as it seems… it takes a lot of skill points to be effective. Most people suggest you at least get about 6 million before you start. I personally suggest you get closer to 10 million – I myself started at around 5 mill but I regret it. Oh, and when I say skill points… all of your carebear skill points don’t count. Mining 5, nada, Corporate Management 3, nada, Anchoring 1? Learning… Yeah I’m sure you get the point. Unless the skill points you have are centered around combat they don’t count. The reason I say about 10 mill is because once you are there you should have the base skills such as Interceptors, Assault Ships, Mechanics, Engineering, Energy Management…all the skills you need for your weapons and tanks.

Pirating also takes skill in scanning. You do not have to have scanning skills trained but you have to know how to use a system and directional scanner in such a manner that you can pinpoint where your prey is lingering within moments of entering a system. It is simple for the veteran player but for a novice scanning can be mind wracking business. When you enter a system you have to stop and start scanning… if you are used to the area and you commonly find yourself in the system I suggest that you make bookmarks around the system for directional scanning. This will allow you to move across the system and scan each zone in the shortest amount of time. With scanning, if you are the one who jumped in you want to be quick about it before your prey becomes wary of your presence.

**You can also find it handy to train scanning skills for probes and such. This will allow you to find EXACTLY where your prey is in no time and little effort.**

Aside from scanning and skill points you have to be shipped for the job! Showing up in a system in a badger makes you the prey now doesn’t it? Depending on what kind of pirating you are doing you will want to be in a ship that complements this job. If you are soloing and want to be fast and agile anything from a frigate, cruiser, interceptor, assault frigate to a stealth bomber could be appropriate attire. If you are in a gang and are the tackler you want a ship that can tackle, but if you are at a gate camp you will want a ship that can handle those pesky gate guns, or else you may find your self in a wee pod being laughed at by both your targets and your allies.

Yesterday I was flying in a Stabber so of course I was looking for easy killings. I found a Rifter on scan and the only other person in local was a less then a day old character. So I decided to scan him out and I did… I found him in the Rifter looting wrecks, then I thought “meh he is a newbie.” So I afk’d for about 5 minutes and went and docked up. When I got back the guy was still in system. I checked the guest list – nothing. So then I undocked thinking “I’ll leave him alone” when I looked at my overview *BAM* I see that Rifter, so i just sat there in my stabber… thought and then locked him. He then surprises me by locking me and shooting at me… well I shoot him once and *BOOM* station guns take out his wee ship. And i still got the kill mail xD

One thing that I find that helps a pirate out millions is an optional kind of thing, but I feel that a good corporation full of like-minded killing machines helps you enjoy your time being an outlaw… many times you will find your self handicapped by the game for being a pirate but with the right group of people you can make the best of this. I know that a corp is not required to be a pirate but like I mentioned, it helps keep you going and gives you some great laughs.

Lastly the most important thing about being a pirate is that you have to have a lot of patience. Without patience you will give up the first time you lose a fight, when you don’t find anyone in any of your systems for about 15 or more jumps! or when your corp says screw you! and blows you up when they don’t get enough kills and you are the newest recruit (yeah). If you do not have patience then being a pirate is not your thing… planning out each move and thinking many moves ahead is how a pirate works. Many people think pirates just go out and blow things up, yes in theory that is correct, but have you ever been in a fight with one? (OK with a good one?) Because if you have then you know that at every moment that they see fit they are trying to get the upper edge on you so that they are the ones who come out victorious with your corpse and kill mail in hand.

Yar har, fiddle di dee, being a pirate is alright with me! Do what you want cause a pirate is free, you are a pirate!

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

The Most Dangerous Game: Do you have what it takes?

‘What do you think’s going to happen?’

‘Did a spy tell the bad guys Capt’n Starke was there?’

‘Why did Capt’n Starke make his guys go through the gate ‘steada fighting?’

‘What d’ya think’s gonna happen?’

For the rest of the week, the children could talk of nothing else, peppering the adults with unanswerable questions. ‘Space Captain Starke’ had never ended on a cliffhanger. It was the talk of the village.

The teachers could barely get the younger children to focus on their lessons until one of the older students suggest they relate the lessons to parts of the show (If Alistair warps from planet 14 to planet 2 at 6AU/second and Captain Starke warps from planet 2 to planet 14 at 8AU/second, where will they pass each other if the planets are 20AU apart?) It was frustrating to rework lessons, but it kept the kids on-task.

At the community meeting that week, several parents raised concerns that the obsession with the holo-serial might not be such a good thing.

‘I can barely get them to focus on their homework.’

‘I had to suggest that Space Captain Starke would go collect firewood because he would understand the importance of keeping the house heated. We shouldn’t have to do that!’

‘It’s a good thing we only have the one projector here in the hall. Imagine if there was one for every house, we’d never get them outside.’

‘Two of the kids came here asking to watch old recorded episodes. I had to remind them that the projector is used for other things.’

‘Speaking of which,’ Scall, the chief communications analyst, piped up, ‘The last week or so we’ve been picking up an increase in Amarrian comms traffic nearby.’

‘How near?’

‘This system. It could just be militia fleets passing through…’

‘This is Thukker space. They would be mad to base here.’

‘Still, I think we ought to cut our broadcasts and recall all but the receiver satellite.’ Scall glanced around at the suddenly worried faces, knowing that what she was suggesting would reduce the colony’s contact with the Republic to nearly nothing. She hadn’t thought it possible to feel homesick for a place she’d never seen, but the thought of bringing the comms array in made her heart ache.

‘You think they’ll notice the array and find us?’

‘In a word, yes. It would be difficult to miss in a system this quiet.’

‘We’d be cutting ourselves off from the rest of the cluster, Scall.’

‘There’s still the focussed-band FTL transmitter on the ship here. It’s been refurbished, we can use it in an emergency.’

After debating options, the community council decided it was for the best. Scall and her team spent the rest of the night recalling the comms satellites. Aoli from the engineering crew started running through the numbers to reduce their electromagnetic signals to a minimum while still maintaining power to the water pumps. Once the satellites were stored, the ship’s refurbished generator was dropped to the barest trickle.

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

Space, the final battleground. The stargate floating above the small moon flares; once, twice, so many flashes they seem to occur simultaneously. As if on cue, the space around the stargate floods with ships.

STARKE: (voice-only)
Scouts, keep an eye on Local, tell me if it spikes. Everyone pick your targets and engage; this is a free-for-all. Warp out or jump if you need to.

STARKE’s Jaguar assault ship banks down and left, falling into a rough orbit around an Amarrian Omen-class cruiser, autocannons spitting fire as he kicks the afterburners in.

EDGRIET: (voice only)
Captain, we need to wipe these guys out fast.

STARKE: (voice only)
I hear you. Nobody pod these guys, it’ll take them longer to reship.

Bright explosions blossom as two enemy ships go down; the Amarrian forces, outnumbered, are dropping rapidly. The view shows for a moment STARKE’s piloting interface: shields fluctuating as boosters pulse, speed hovering at three-quarters as he turns for another pass, enemies bracketed yellow and red, the primary target highlighted by spinning arrows. Around him, ships sweep past; missiles, laser beams and blaster pulses flare. The stargate flashes as someone leaves the system, and the view switches to AVION’s Retribution. His control panel displays the list of pilots in their squad, STARKE highlighted at the top. Half of the Nova Elite’s names are flashing, damage display bars showing varying amounts of red. The alerts fade one by one as Amarrian ships die or flee under the onslaught. The Nova Elite and TLF forces move to a dead-space in between planets, where they are joined by those members of the fleet who had to leave the fighting.

STARKE takes stock as the fleet recuperates. Two frigates and a cruiser have been lost from EDGRIET’s squads, the pilots warping their pods to safety and returning to base. The Nova Elite have lost drones and an interceptor is smoking, its hull held together through the pilot’s sheer force of will until one of the other pilots can bring a remote hull-repair unit online.

STARKE: (voice only)
Commander, your boys ready for the assault?

EDGRIET: (voice only)
Are we ever. Vash, head on over to the control point near planet five, wait for the Captain’s signal to attack. Warping squad to control point near seven.

As one, the four squads enter warp, descending upon LORD GRIMLOK’s base like avenging demons, a coordinated attack upon the sentry posts first cutting off communications to the rest of the Amarrian Empire. Before the embers have even faded, SPACE CAPTAIN STARKE calls for the fleet to regroup, leading his Nova Elite and the TLF forces against LORD GRIMLOK’s base of operations

They are met with fierce resistance: LORD GRIMLOK himself, commanding his dreaded flagship, the Righteous Blade, brings his entire fleet to bear. The infamous Holder chooses to attack the invading force rather than make his escape; he is confident and assured, knowing that this time his nemesis is on Amarrian ground. The scene shows LORD GRIMLOK seated in a non-capsuleer captain’s chair on the bridge of his Armageddon battleship.

LORD GRIMLOK: (shaking his clenched fist at his adversary)
You won’t escape this time, Starke. This is the last time your Matari filth will taint my stars! Amarr Victor!

The battle is joined, furious and dizzying; where the earlier fight was a deadly dance, this one is a slugfest. Primaried frigates on both sides vanish in bursts of superheated gas as the gap between the fleets narrows, and then the Nova Elite and TLF are among the Amarrian fleet, the heavier ships unable to track the lighter wolfpack at close range.

STARKE:
All ships, focus fire on Grimlok’s ‘Geddon! Take that sonuvabitch down, then worry about his support.

Under the combined firepower of over thirty ships, the golden battleship melts quickly, its captain unable to reach his escape-pod in time. The support put up a token resistance, but most flee the system while STARKE’s forces take out their next set of targets. Voice-comms protocol has already collapsed; the pilots are cheering, laughing and chattering amongst themselves, and it’s all STARKE can do to get their attention and remind the pilots that they’re a long way from home in hostile space.

…………………………

STARKE steps off the gangway from his Jaguar, hair still damp from a post-pod shower. He turns to run loving eyes over the battle-scarred hull before slipping a pair of shades on and turning to leave. His way is blocked by COMMANDER EDGRIET, who has appeared as if from nowhere.

EDGRIET:
That was some good work today, Captain.

She eyes him appraisingly as he reacts with surprise.

STARKE:
I’m certain it’s no more than you would expect of your own men, Commander. We owe you for your help today.

The Commander smiles at him.

EDGRIET:
It was a pleasure, Captain. I’m wondering if I could call on that favour now, rather than later?

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

The community hall erupted with a wave of cheering. The final shot of Lord Grimlok’s flagship exploding filled the room with a nova-bright flare before fading to dark red and then nothing. Among the children, Nikitta and Nareen were hugging while Komar did a wiggly victory-dance on his seating cushion.

Behind the rows of youngsters, the adults watched. Many were grinning at the children’s excitement, but a few looked puzzled or concerned. In the close-knit community, most had known Tiia Edgriet before she’d left for the Republic, and even five years on she was still recognisable.

Havah looked up at her husband. ‘If that’s really my sister… how real is this?’

Elaqh shook his head. He’d been wondering the same thing.

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

Sylar Starke sat with his feet up in yet another station-side bar. Alistair had joined him, and they sat talking quietly, sharing stories of their early days as pilots. Al noticed her first; Sylar turned to look.

‘Commander Edgriet. Have a seat.’

The tiny Sebiestor woman smiled and brushed her hair back over her shoulder. ‘Thanks. That was bloody clever, staging the final fight like that. Where’d you get the Amarrian ships from?’

Shrugging, Sylar took a sip of his beer. ‘Stole most of them. The pilots are ours, we’ve staged setpiece combat before. The ones I called primary after the ‘Geddon blew up were all empty of crew members, only a pilot in the pod.’

‘Very clever.’ Edgriet looked impressed, then thoughtful. ‘I’m glad you let me add the favour request into the script. I need your help, Captain.’

The two men sat up straight, looked at each other across the table, then at the Commander. ‘We were wondering about that,’ Alistair said.

‘You’ve still got some of that makeup on, you know.’

‘Yeah, I’ve not properly washed it off, yet.’

Tiia Edgriet leaned forward on her elbows on the table, long, delicate fingers interlaced before her. ‘You may recall that I have a bit of an ongoing disagreement with the General.’

At their nods, she continued, ‘This is because our intelligence has discovered that the village I grew up in has drawn Amarrian attention. Slaver attention. And the General – much less the Republic itself – can do nothing.’

‘Why’s that?’ Alistair looked keen; his expression had sharpened, his eyes taking on that look Sylar recognised all too well.

‘It’s in Ubtes. Thukker territory. We have no jurisdiction to go in and bring my people out, and while the Amarr don’t have any more right to operate there than we do, they have fewer scruples about it.’ Tiia looked severe. ‘I need to get my people to the Republic, or they’ll end up with the same fate our ancestors so narrowly escaped, and the slaver raid is planned for sometime next week.’

The CEO and the XO of the Nova Elite looked at each other; they could read each other well enough that speaking was unnecessary. Sylar turned back to Tiia. ‘What is it that you need us for, exactly?’

She smiled a little. ‘Leave the TLF. I’ve talked this over with my own men, and they’ve all agreed to this course of action. We’ll leave with you, form our own operating corporation. We’ll be operating as independents, and because even the Thukkers can pick up your broadcasts, we’ll have evidence that the Republic isn’t involved. …Just tell ‘em I bullied you. What do you say?’

************************************
To Be Concluded Next Week!
Same EVE Time, Same EVE Channel!

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Space Captain Starke and the Tribal Renegades

Before I begin, I’d like to say that I am no innocent bystander. I was a participant and fleet commander in this war on the side of the Ethereal Crossing Coalition. The purpose of this article will be to highlight mistakes from both sides, politics, and analyze the war as a whole. For a shorter, very powerful, and non-text version of this piece, look at this video, which was not made by me: Youtube Video

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The beginning of the Drone Wars is not clear…not even to the ones that fought in this long and bloody conflict. Red Alliance maintains that it came under attack from Ethereal Dawn/Intrepid Crossing, while ED/IRC says that Red Alliance initiated it all by allowing various pet alliances to attack ED/IRC.

What everyone can agree on is that a Lucky League(Red Alliance pet) pilot shot at an ED/IRC pilot, ED/IRC pressured RA for letting this happen, and that touched off the entire war. At first, ED/IRC appeared to heading for a massive, decisive, and most importantly quick victory. With relatively little interference from any other forces than the Red Alliance bloc, ECC (Ethereal Crossing Coalition) forces smashed into Insmother, even taking a newly built station in EUU for a few hours. Morale was high, and fleet after fleet moved farther into RA space every day.

One thing that went unnoticed was that for the numbers in alliance chat, fleet numbers were low; even though the ECC was winning, participation rates were extremely low. What IRC and ED did not realize that while they pounded RA from the north, RA was unable to pressure AAA from the East, thus making harder for Goonswarm to attack KenZoku. GoonSwarm had to do something quick, so in an effort to push the ECC out of the Drone Regions war, they coerced the Northern Coalition to send some of their newer, (then) smaller alliances to attack ED/IRC’s home turf.

At that time, I, like most ECC members, believed our home space entirely safe, and thought that at worst, we would simply fail in taking Insmother. How wrong we were. Suddenly, the newly built XB- station in Etherium Reach was under heavy capital and POS attack from Majesta Empire, while DYPL- in IRC space was besieged by the Initiative. Roaming gangs of Wildly Inappropriate began buzzing through our home regions. Mining and ratting ground to a virtual standstill. At this time, the name ECC was a bit of a misnomer, as Intrepid Crossing and Ethereal Dawn were virtually (though not quite) the only members. (For outsiders who don’t know, IRC and ED are so close that they are essentially one alliance.)

As the rest of New Eden saw, the situation had very quickly changed. ED/IRC had gone from an offensive position to a highly defensive one. The Northern Coalition pounded the previously impenetrable “loop” (a constellation with many ED stations and only one entrance) during our active timezones while Red Alliance and friends hit it during our inactive timezones. It was a recipe for utter disaster. Within a day, all forces had withdrawn from Insmother and the pressure RA had previously felt on their home turf was gone. They were now able to hit us without fear for their home region.

Morale dipped and pressure mounted on Etherium Reach. We lost our XB- and R-6 station systems, then TP-, and then finally 3H5 and 1H5 in quick succession. Fleet participation was abysmally low, but curiously, people did not leave. All hope seemed utterly lost, but even though morale was somewhat lower than it had been during our string of victories in Insmother, it did not fall very far. Finally, at our lowest point, a few motivational speeches with a true vision of the future got us back on our feet. Most importantly, our morale did not drop further…if it had, we simply would have lost very quickly. We knew we had made mistakes, whether it be in politics, trust, stront timing, FCing, or the stupidly low amounts of towers in our station systems. Everything had to change and it had to change yesterday.

After managing to kick Majesta Empire out of XB-, the ECC kicked The Initiative out of DYPL with a VERY decisive battle, and Majesta made an official statement saying that it was surrendering. Not only was the coalition as a whole much more confident, even though Red Alliance still stood very firmly against us, but it had grown, with the addition of Raining Doom, Blackguard Coalition, StarFleet Federation (they left), and finally Arcane (later.)

Though we had kicked the NC out and the mood was jubilant, Red Alliance now had a spot on the influence map in the middle of ED space, and this was on the mind of all of our alliance members. We almost immediately initiated a campaign to retake our space, and within only a week or two, TP-, 1H5, and 3H5 were under Ethereal Dawn control once again. Only R-6KYM, the famous station system, remained balefully red. Things were looking up, though, as Atlas Alliance and their allies were smashing into Red Alliance space from the south, up to the point where they literally had no stations remaining in Insmother, and indeed only a few systems at all. The Ethereal Crossing Coalition’s Black Ops team, founded by me, scored a massive victory and made history when they destroyed an entire fleet with only bombs, scoring some 56 kills.

For a few weeks, it seemed that we were back on track and the past months had been worth it. We were poised to get our own space back and much of Insmother as well, and we had nearly defeated the famed Red Alliance. If only things were so simple. Suddenly, the Delve War II ended, with KenZoku and it’s allies pulling out of Delve and the coalition led by GoonSwarm suddenly having the time, space, and resources to go defend their friends. At first, only small numbers of enemies, namely the GoonFleet Foreign Legion, appeared in our space. The first two waves were annihilated, but by less than a week later, our space was once again flush with reds. The Initiative had returned to attack us as well, while another small alliance started chewing on us from the West. The end came very quickly; only a few weeks from the end of the Delve War and we had gone from glorious victors to evacuating completely. Shadow of xXDeathXx and Legion of xXDeathXx had both reset us, stating that Atlas were using our stations as a base to attack their space, even though Atlas quite obviously had enough space and had no interest in X.I.X space.

To this day, I do not know why Legion of xXDeathXx reset us, but it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. With the Northern Coalition returning, GoonSwarm projecting force, Red Alliance continuing to fight, and other smaller entities, there were even more enemies than the “first round.” Legion of xXDeathXx beat us soundly in less than a week, mostly because of lack of willpower and fight left in the Ethereal Crossing Coalition. After fighting overwhelming odds for 5 months straight, we simply did not have it in us. XDeath and GoonSwarm were fresh and on the offensive, XDeath having no other conflicts and having built up for months. The decision was made to evacuate shortly after an alt of Oldma, who was IRC’s alliance leader, lost 150 Billion ISK in blueprints to a Goonswarm gatecamp.

At the time of this writing, Ethereal Dawn and Intrepid Crossing have evacuated and are now living in Curse with new allies, Intrepid Crossing having mostly dissolved into a new alliance: Wicked Nation, and Ethereal Dawn having survived remarkably well. Red Alliance has begun to gather in strength again, having regained much of it’s former space and most of Etherium Reach as well. Thus, it appears the tale of Red Alliance is not over yet: it still continues to flow and ebb like a red tide.

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Political Structures: Red Tide: The Flow and Ebb of Red Alliance