For the Federation

Posted in After Action Reports with tags , , , on May 22, 2017 by Jack Carrigan

“You can’t always escape from the past, because sometimes it draws you back in.”


“God damn it Vick,” I barked over the communications uplink, “What the fuck did you sign me up for?”  He laughed, “I didn’t sign you up for shit.  You volunteered because you heard there was going to be a massive payout.”  “I told you I was done being the Federation’s pawn,” I replied.  “Just go kill a few State pilots, blow up their colonies and it’ll all be worth it.  Don’t forget to grab their dog tags so we can see what kind of blow you dealt to their naval forces,” Vick said with a chuckle.

I engaged the warp drive on Valhalla, my Thanatos-class Carrier, and soon I found myself looking at a few sentry batteries surrounding a pair of Mining Colonies.  “Well, this doesn’t seem so…” I said right as alarm klaxons began screaming in my mind, “OH FUCK ME!”  I found myself staring down a very large State battlegroup, and to make matters worse, the two energy neutralization batteries had just engaged.  “All hands!  This is not a drill!  Battlestations!” I shouted over internal comms.  “Engineering, engage nosferatu on nearest battleship!  Electronic warfare, engage stasis grappler on targets I designate!  All fighter pilots, get to launch tubes and scramble, we have numerous hostiles bearing down on our position!”  I shouted.  Seconds later, three squadrons of Firbolg-class fighters had launched and began engaging.  As frigates and destroyers closed on my Valhalla’s position, the smartbomb fitted to the carrier was engaged, rendering the tackle frigates ineffective in seconds, completely destroying them.

I watched as one of my fighter squadrons suffered losses while trying to return for a resupply, and made a note of which pilots were lost so that I could ensure their families were taken care of.  The shield alarm went off, and as the first missiles penetrated Valhalla’s thick armor plating, my vision went red.  The fighter squadrons had just landed for resupply, and I shouted over comms, “Tell hangar crews that they need to hurry the fuck up, unless they want to be frozen corpses.  The State isn’t too keen on us being here, and we need to make sure that we take these bastards down.”  Apparently my orders had struck a nerve, as the fighters launched out again, and started taking down more and more of the enemy fleet.  Cruisers and battlecruisers were exploding all around my ship, and the battleships fell not long after.

I called out on comms, “Hey Tri, you may want to get over here in something that can salvage, because I just ripped these State dogs a new ass.  And there is one hell of a mess that needs to be cleaned up.”  “I’m on the way,” Trianna said with a chuckle, “Let me grab my Noctis.”  After getting Valhalla repaired at a Freeport citadel, I returned with Rasa, my Ishtar-class Heavy Assault Cruiser, dropped a Mobile Tractor Unit and Salvage Drones.  It took a while, but we got all of the wreckage cleaned up.  I called out to Vick, “So, about the payout.”  “You may want to check how many Loyalty Points that Federation Customs assigned you for their store.  Also, those tags?  We don’t actually want them.  Send me a picture of them so I can verify, and you can sell them on the open market.  You should make a pretty decent amount of ISK off of them.”

I checked my wallet, the Loyalty Point balance for Federation Customs and the estimated value of the tags I had collected and smirked, “Well, looks like I just found a new source of income.”

As I climbed the stairs from my capsule, I spotted Trianna, “Those tags you picked up?  Sell them.  They’re worth a good amount of ISK.  Should help offset some of the costs you’ve incurred lately with buying shit.”  


To the Fallen

Posted in After Action Reports with tags , , , on May 17, 2017 by Jack Carrigan

“Never forget the fallen.  Their sacrifices, no matter how small in nature write their legacy.”


I stood on the gantry that overlooked the public capsuleer hangars, a cigarette hanging from my lips.  Cloning malfunctions were always a horrible thing, because the large majority of the time, they would cost the capsuleer their life.  It was a particularly horrible thing when it was one of your own corporation members.  I had flown out to Deninard for the sole purpose of liquidating the assets of our departed.  I watched the Orca-class Industrial Command Ship being transferred, along with two mining barges and an Exhumer.

I shook my head and sealed myself into my capsule.

From there, I launched out and set a course for one of the major market hubs so that I could purchase things that the corporation needed.


Thoughts From the Commander #199

Posted in From the Commander with tags , on May 2, 2017 by Jack Carrigan

Don’t fuck with the pilot who has no fear of death.  That is the one who will do everything in their power to ensure he takes you down with him.  Only to wake up in a new clone just to do it again.

Thoughts From the Commander #198

Posted in From the Commander with tags , on April 27, 2017 by Jack Carrigan

People are more intuitive than they would let on.  It would do most well to realize that.

The Grind

Posted in After Action Reports with tags , , , on April 24, 2017 by Jack Carrigan

“Working for yourself is very liberating.  Until you realize that you actually have to work.”


Everyone had been looking to Trianna and I for guidance, for leadership and for direction.  I was sitting in my office, feet propped up on my desk, hair and clothing a disheveled mess and was nursing likely the sixth cup of coffee too many while digging through desk drawers in an attempt to find a cigarette.  “Well fuck, it looks like I’ll actually have to leave the office,” I said, looking over a stack of applications.  I stood up and thumbed through them.  “No experience, no experience, no background check, no background, shitty background,” I said as I thumbed through applications and threw them into the nearby waste receptacle.  I stopped right before throwing the most recent away, “Well, this one looks okay.  And with the background is actually good.”  I made a note to get back to that pilot as I looked around my office and grabbed my vest, holstered pistol and knife before making my way for the door.

I yawned and made my way toward the concourse so that I could pick up a pack of cigarettes prior to walking back to my quarters, and then into my hangar.  I looked around and made my way toward Ormr, my Stratios-class cruiser.  I set off on a scanning expedition, which led me to spend several hours later harvesting gas, and eliminating local pirates.  At any rate, a lot of ISK was made, and was soon spent.

All in all, it was a grind, and I was going to have to get back to it.  This time, people were going to pull their weight as well.



Posted in After Action Reports with tags , , , , on April 17, 2017 by Jack Carrigan

“Sometimes when you weigh your options, going home, to the place where you truly call your home is the best overall option.”


Two Weeks Prior:

The station defense coordinator had entered the control center, only to notice a blip on short range scanners, “Does anyone else notice the Reaper-class Corvette sitting outside the station?”  “Yeah, but he’s just flying around,” said one of the control center operators.  Seconds later, a cynosural beacon went up.  “All stations this net, be advised, spatial anomaly that appears to be a cynosural field detected,” called out one of the other control center operators.

The docking manager was sitting at her station when a request to dock came in.  “Unknown vessel, send identification tags,” she said calmly.  The station defense coordinator looked on, “Thanatos-class Carrier, outdated Gallente Federation IDENT tags, private designation, Valhalla.  Open comms with it.”  The docking manager reached up and touched the display in front of her, “Valhalla, what is your purpose for docking?”

I smirked, “Well Duvolle Control, I figured now was as good of a time as any to come home.  Secondary IDENT tags have been sent.”  The docking manager looked over the tags, “Private vessel, pilot classified as an outlaw.”  The defense coordinator called out, “Tell all sentry turret operators to begin targeting and prepare to engage that vessel.”  “Hold on, I know this one,” the docking manager replied before re-engaging the communications link, “Mr. Carrigan, it’s been a while.  Should we be expecting the rest of your crew shortly?”  “That it has, and yes you should,” I replied calmly.  “I trust you remember your personal and hangar authorization codes, as well as the codes for the capsuleer quarters.”  “Indeed, and I just sent them to you,” I chuckled.  The defense coordinator shook his head, “You do realize that Duvolle is going to have our heads for dealing with pirates, right?”  The docking manager stood up from her station, “You do realize that this pirate was one of this station’s largest sources of income for Duvolle, right?”  She seated herself back at her station, “Mr. Carrigan, you’re cleared for docking, and your hangars should be clear.  If any problems arise, you know who to contact.”  “Thank you control,” I said as I willed the engines to halt as the station’s complex tractor system took over the vessel to guide it into the station.

Present Day:

“Well Tri,” I said, “Citadel is in place in Vivanier, and I’ve already started running numbers.  Gas collection has begun, and we’ve already got our first shipment of ice awaiting pickup.  So, with that, things are looking pretty good.  Once we get done with this pesky war, we will be set to gear up full-scale operations.”  “I’ve noticed,” Trianna replied, “Looks like we’ve got a few stragglers, but operations are starting to pick up again.  Let’s get back to work to ensure that we can support everything.”


Thoughts From the Commander #197

Posted in From the Commander with tags , on April 3, 2017 by Jack Carrigan

Sometimes you just have to decide to go home.