Who you gonna call? THE TUSKERS!

“Apocalypse Navy Issue tackled in Jovainnon Solar System.”

The message to The Tuskers is brief and to the point. Not mentioning my current state of bliss and uncontrollable endorphins. I try my best to act like a cool, cold-blooded killer. Not just some overheated hothead riding rusty Rifters.

Let’s backtrack a little. Two minutes earlier I arrived Jovainnon in my - big surprise - Rifter. It was one of those strange moments when nothing seems to make sense. I had an Apocalypse Navy Issue on my directional scanner. And only two pilots in the local communications channel - except yours truly.

An Apocalypse Navy Issue. In Jovainnon. The single system between Aeschee, home of big scary ships, and Hevrice, home of the notorious and always actively hunting Tuskers. This is not a system you want to bring your most expensive ships without any support. So, I figure, this must be some kind of intricate trap beyond my comprehension. And, usually when I find a single battleship in a low security system, it is on a mission from some dodgy agent. And then I will need to get probes. But, I do what I always do when I find something: I pinpoint it's location with the directional scanner.

It is in a belt. A solo Navy Issue battleship floating all alone in an asteroid belt!

This is where my brain kicks in and starts working. Against me. A Navy Issue Battleship working for CONCORD’s meagre bounties for the local Serpentis? This can’t be true. I smell a rat. I stall. I don’t warp in. Then slowly, my brain starts to work with me. I am next to The Tuskers home. A group of pirates I have locked horns with on many occasions, but also have called in for backup whenever a target of opportunity has appeared. They are bad news, but they can be trusted. I make my communication channel with The Tuskers ready for input, and hurl my Rifter towards the belt. Apocalypse! Now!

There it is. This giant construction, most certainly made by Matari slaves, stationed between the rocks doing CONCORD’s dirty work. I overheat my afterburner and warp scrambler and the blood-rush is like nothing else I’ve felt for a long time.

This is when The Tuskers are informed about the trapped battleship. They respond at once. Within a few seconds, and after a few downed Hobgoblins, I receive an official invite to a Tuskers fleet. I accept and the fleet jumps into system and it all happens so fast that for a moment, that I panic and think I’m in a pod. The damage on my shields has suddenly disappeared from my HUD! And that, for me, usually means my ship has been stripped off my capsule. Well. Not this time. This time, it was actually my first experience of being remotely repaired by a logistics ship. You see... I fly solo.

Then the Tuskers scary looking front-man and public “face”, Suleiman Shouaa, asks me if I want to ransom or kill. They sure live up to their reputation as pirates of honor: They have all the power to do whatever they want with me and the Battleship-pilot, but still they want me to make the decision. I go for the kill. The pod, however, decides to turn down the offered ransom, and in retrospect the demand was a bit too high. But, hey, this guy looked like he had lots of kredits to burn since he was cleaning low sec belts in a Navy Issue. So, the offered ransom was not out of the blue.

The Tuskers public face. Suleiman Shouaa.

Then, a very polite Suleiman Shouaa hauls the loot to the nearest station and contracts me all of it. What a bunch of clean and polite pirates!

So, there you have it. If you ever happen to stumble upon The Tuskers: Treat them with the respect they deserve and you shall be rewarded. This applies whether you are one of their unlucky customers, a fellow pirate of honor or a roaming scumbag scavenger like myself.

I wish the fleet good luck and warp to a safe to cool down and analyze my current situation. This month is turning out to be one of my most ISK efficient months ever. It started with a very big explosion when some fellow pirates of the Molden Heath loop had caught a Thanatos and invited everyone to participate in killing it. I was next door in a bomber and  managed to jump in and get a few volleys of torpedos into its burning hull. Then Alex “Jaguar God” Medvedov caught a Sleipnir but needed more damage to break its tank. I suicided a Rupture against it’s shields and armour and that made the difference and the loot value replaced my ship. And then I found the already mentioned Apocalypse Navy Issue. Add a few assault frigates and a battleship or two to the kill list, and you will understand I am having good times!

My associates are doing a good job with all kinds of endeavours, and even though I am loosing too many ships at the moment, the ISK situation is better than it has ever been before. So maybe it is time to order a stack of Jaguars?

Propaganda

Alekseyev wears the same jacket as me. He got my vote - despite that clean shaven upper lip.

A short log entry. I do not write about politics on this log. But today I docked in a station somewhere in Molden Heath and did what every capsuleer concerned with shooting down other capsuleers should do: I voted for Alekseyev Karrde for CSM7.

Go vote. Then undock.

Culinary Corner: Rectal Skunk Lunch

As a fine dining enthusiast, I must say that gourmet discussions in the local communication channel are always appreciated:

Ravior Letam > eeey... saftsuze... whats up, stupid bitch?
Saftsuze > Just eating my lunch and enjoying the scenery :)
Ravior Letam > Ah really? whats it today? roadkilled skunk up the ass like always?
Saftsuze > Yeah, skunk is a favourite. And of course I eat with my ass. Saves time for digestion.

A few days earlier I disrupted his corporation’s massive mining op in a low sec system. I was in a tiny Firetail, but even their Loki warped to safety behind a force field as I entered system. I blew up 7-8 cans filled with ore before they warped in a Harbinger to the asteroid belt. I figured I had done what could be done, and moved on for some action in another system that had been reported by my fellow Rebels. A bit later I returned to the mining op in a stealth bomber, hoping to snag a Covetor or something similar. But, again, as I entered system, they all gathered behind a force field and then swiftly abandoned system.

That was a short little log entry. Now I'm gonna go and grab some lunch.

Overheat Scram, Receive Bacon

The Rifter makes a hard break at the safe spot. The directional scanner have just given an intriguing analysis of the central cluster of belts. A Retriever class mining barge! Outside the range of CONCORDS cold hands. I have a hunch this one is not carelessly parked within a force field either, since the vessel is named after a rather recently graduated capsuleer - easily identified in the local communications channel. I do what i do and narrow him down to a single belt. In warp my brain starts wandering and I think of all the events since I returned from unconsciousness.

It started off with an episode quite like the one I was in right now. A Hulk made its appearance on my directional scanner and my greedy pirate soul started counting ISK. Sadly, the Rifter I was in was was fit for surprise and lacked the lethal damage output. Not the best thing to tackle a rather well tanked industrial with drone support. But I smelled a possible ransom and warped in on him. That netted me 70 000 000 ISK. Not as much I’d liked, but it was Christmas time and time to show Santasuze I can be nice too! And I did have some trouble breaking his tank, actually, so 70 000 000 ISK and no kill was a lot better than just no kill.

I’m still in warp. Should I ransom the Retriever? No. But lets ransom his pod!

Speaking of pods. I have cursed myself for not remembering to ransom scrammed capsules. There are a lot more expensive implants flying around than I thought. But, ransoming a pod isn’t always easy. A few days ago I had this “conversation” with a gentleman:

Saftsuze > How much would you offer for keeping your pod?
Ithan Evingod > Your rifter and any other ship I ever see you in again.
Saftsuze > I am not sure I understand, Mr. Evindog?
Saftsuze > You don't want to pay me some ISK for staying alive?
Saftsuze > Will I have to collect your frozen corpse instead?
Saftsuze > Conversation takes place when both parties actually says something....
Saftsuze > I guess your cold shoulder hints that you want to offer your frozen corpse for my collection.
Saftsuze > I thank you for your donation to the freezer, Mr. Evindog.

I’m landing in the belt. Retriever is happily mining. I am charging.

Even this easy target gets my blood pumping and gives me a slight taste of that delicious adrenaline rushing through my clone. But not as much as when you are fighting several enemies. A while back, on my way towards Eifer and the hunting grounds of Executive Pirate Extraordinaire, Mr. Kane Rizzell, I found three little Rifters playing outside a station. I figured that this could be a fun little tease. To my surprise they where all just 150 km or so away from the station, probably making insta-undock-bookmarks or something like that. That meant i could easily drag them out from the sentry guns protective area. And so I did, and they all lined up like lambs to the slaughter. Of course I did one of my usual stupid mistakes and podded one of them just inside of the station guns range. Just when I was looking this sexy I go ahead and explode myself. Silly me. But I shrugged it off, picked up another Rifter and went on and shot down the aforementioned Mr. Kane Rizzel. Feeling sexy again! He was kind enough to mention this very close Rifter fight in his excellent log of pirating. I could have sworn I was warping out my pod, instead it turned out to be my Rifter - or more correct: 10 percent of my Rifter.

Speaking of feeling sexy. I've had a very exciting mail arrive in my inbox! I am getting used to the compliments on my very handsome moustache - I mean, that is to be expected - but they are mostly from men. Funny, that in such a homophobic universe, where “gay” and “faggot” seems to be the most prominent term of abuse, I do get a lot of compliments from other men on my looks. But, I digress: A few weeks back I got an eve-mail sent to me and my CEO, Mr. Bull, that took me by surprise: It was fan mail! From girls in bikinis! Well, it might very well be male capsuleers dressed in bikinis, considering the observation above. But, I don’t really care for sexual orientation or cross dressing preferances: As long as I have actually inspired someone out there to live the only true life of freedom, then I am one happy outlaw solo pilot. So, please go visit those bikini girls and encourage their lifestyle - regardless of your prejudice about cross dressing - hey, they might even be real girls! I have recently been notified about the existence of TWO female Rebels that is not to be considered cross dressing male capsuleers. TWO real girl rebels!

Now, focus! I'm shooting down a mining barge! I guess I got a bit distracted by all this retrospective analysis, because the pod gets away! Damn, I was gonna ransom that pod! While picking up the loot I notice a jettisoned cargo container. A quick peek reveals ore for about 4 million ISK on the current regional market. This guy will come back. He does. Sadly, not in a hauler, but I got the pod and it was released for a very reasonable ransom.

I haul my loot to my safe spot and kick back to wait out the criminal countdown. I'm checking the Rebels communications channel for news, when I hear a strange noise. I think the directional scanner actually made a gasping sound as it revealed the latest result of a 360 degree full range scan: A battlecruiser of the Hurricane class, named after the pilot I had just released from my warp scrambler! A miner hellbent on revenge! My Rifter is already in warp and I preheat my scram, I want to make sure I catch this ‘cane. And so I do. But there is one thing I don’t do: Turn off the overheating of my scrambler. Doing lots of stupid stuff myself, I can easily confirm that the following strategy works: Always bet on stupid! So I play it cool with the no longer scrambled Hurricane:

MetallStill Beddelver > I want to save my hurricane.
Saftsuze > That is gonna be slightly more expensive.
Saftsuze > How much do you have to offer?
MetallStill Beddelver > 11 kk?
Saftsuze > 11 mill?
MetallStill Beddelver > Yes.
Saftsuze > OK, same procedure as last time.

If you don’t have a scram, just remember you can always scam!

Shooting For The Moon

My Taranis disappeared from the system with a flash. But wait! What was that appearing on my last second 360 degree scan report? An unnamed Vexor class cruiser? What was it doing out here in this part of the system? No asteroid belts around. Probably running a mission for one of those unfriendly agents that finds pleasure in sending fresh recruits into low security space to harden them up.

On the other side of the gate I went looking for another unnamed space vessel that appeared on my scanner. However, that Vexor was still hovering in the back of my consciousness. I had a hunch he was not on a mission.

I turned around and jumped again, adjusted my head and hit scan as soon as I was able to sort out what was what in my ship’s system interface. There it was again, this mysterious cruiser in this empty corner of the solar system. I ordered my ship's core scanner to report any cosmic anomalies, but the result was just more emptiness. I did a 360 degrees directional scan to look for any starbases, but nothing. I looked for wrecks, but there was none.

Was the Vexor a ghost ship? Had it been boarded by Sansha’s Nation? Was I witness to the beginning of a Sleeper invasion from the wormholes? What the hell was going on here?

I started a manual directional scan for the purpose of narrowing down the ghost ship. Since there was really nothing special in this part of space, except a planet and the already mentioned gate, I ordered the scanner to accept all results. Maybe I could get a clue to why this ship was floating around in empty space.

I twinned the tip of my moustache – in my mind, of course, since I was soaked in that awful pod goo – and smiled as I narrowed down the Vexor. A moon! I entered warp as I asked myself: What are you doing at a moon, Mr. Magical Mystery Cruiser?

The warp bubble collapsed and my overview grid loaded. The cruiser was 300 km away, keeping a steady course straight into emptiness at 200+ meters per second. A ghost ship. The pilot must have lost consciousness. Or maybe hot-wired himself into a holoreel? Oh, why bother with probable causes – I have a job to do! The Vexor must be turned into space junk!

Then, suddenly, when my Taranis got within 100 km off the Vexor, my Federation Navy Speech-To-Text-O-Matic Communication Transponder Mk. III made a silly noise (my customized notification sound) and spit out a sentence from the pilot of the Vexor:

Joachim Chelien > You waznt something?

An unnamed Vexor in the hands of a fresh recruit. I would be lying if I said I wanted a ransom. I lied:

Saftsuze > i waznt ISK!

There was no sign of a blinking wallet on my NeoCom. I was still out of range and that general statement about wanting ISK was merely a tactic of making myself not so scary. I’ve been known to look quite scary in a certain angle and a full moon light. He made no attempt to escape, just kept a steady course towards the emptiness. Oh yes, I would be happy to give him the experience of total emptiness!

80 km later: Locked, scrammed and three smoking barrels!

Joachim Chelien > I cant hit you

Three Ogre I in orbit. I laughed in their general direction.

Joachim Chelien > Maybe just now

The one hit he got. A pinch of red on my shields display.

Saftsuze > you can hit me with ISK!

Still no blinking wallet.

Joachim Chelien > Bye

I guess he realized it was time to meet the emptiness.

Saftsuze > bye *

* Must. Remember. To. Ransom. Pod.

Return To Consciousness

After having blown up and leaving millions of ISK in Faction Modules floating in space, I felt tired. I was overheated and burnt out. The change of pace was good: Flying expensive was a thrill! But I was getting a reputation for dropping good and profitable loot - and it was time for a break.

I had this great reality-holoreel called “Real Life” that I wanted to plug into. It’s a story about a man living on the ancient planet known as Earth. He is a regular mortal living a quiet family life with his wife and kids. A great escape from the realities of being a scumbag Capsuleer! So, by hot-wiring some circuits in my pod, I disconnected the signals emitted to space and plugged my consciousness directly into the holoreel I had already installed in my pods in-flight entertainment system. And just like that, my pod disappeared from all directional scanners in space, and I was inside the reality of “Real Life”.

But now I am back. Plugged into reality again. My pod signaling to all that care to use their directional scanner: I am an object in space. Most likely wrapped in a cheap Rifter class frigate destined for destruction in an overheated race to death!

The Impossible Project

I was standing in front of yet another scratchy and badly lit Minmatar mirror in yet another station somewhere in Molden Heath. I was getting ready to jump to another clone in another region where I had a stack of Rifters. This station is also close to where the Black Guards of Mr. Nash Kadavr are running their operations. Now, this is a bunch of pilots to be respected, but after the wrong pronunciation of R1FTA’s full name in an audio broadcast to the community of capsuleers, my fellow R1FTA director, Kaeda Maxwell, had decided it was necessary to punish them. So we were at war at the time. And I figured I ought to make an effort in this war. Hence the forthcoming clone jump. But I hesitated.

I hate clone jumping. It’s messy and you get kind of confused and unconsentrated. And I am already that by default.

My mind was wandering. I looked around. Damn, I wish those Gallente architects and interior designers would get some better quarters ready soon, I’m getting sick of the pointy scrap metal all over the place. When spending a lot of time inside overheated Rifters, entering a Minmatar quarter isn’t exactly what you would call a good and healthy change of scenery. It doesn’t exactly sooth your mind. I need some fresh, posh and good looking Gallente quarters soon. To cool down my head.

I need that. When am I gonna manage to keep my head cool? Project Love Boat isn’t exactly going as panned. I have been pushing my love boats into impossible situations whenever I’ve had the chance. I thought the special and sometimes expensive fittings would put me off risking too much. But no. I am still throwing my ships up against the unknown. And even the known. Engaging Alex ‘Jaguar God’ Medvedov’s Jaguar – with my Federation Navy Comet (Cassiel)... was, well, not so wise. Too long since I’ve been managing drones, so that small flight of ECM-drones didn’t help me escape either.

So. Project Love Boat is not going too well. I have updated the statistics for it. It is grim reading. My fellow rebel Tomba’s words of wisdom are still ringing in my ears: “This project is against your nature, Saftsuze. It’s as if you were going to live in a monastery as monk.”

He is right. I am not the cool and clean killer I’d like to be. I am an adrenaline junkie that hungers for destruction. That’s why I fly. That’s why I only dock when I need to repair my ship, my moustache - or get a new one. A ship, that is, not a new moustache! But, I want to become better. I want to loose less ships, and I want the others to loose more.

But I need that rush. I need fresh bodies in my cargohold. I need stolen modules in my hanger. I need screaming ships on fire and sweat dripping from my moustache.

Better get that clone jump done with. I feel a strong urge to undock. Careful Consideration, level 5, has been pushed further back in the queue.