The Devil’s Luck Part 1

Posted in After Action Reports with tags , , , on September 25, 2016 by Jack Carrigan

“Sometimes you have bad shit happen, other times you have the devil’s luck.”


Security teams moved into fighting positions within the sprawling hangar of Barataria Bay, my corporation’s Fortizar-class citadel.  I stood in the doorway that led to the corporation offices waiting for the lone Thorax-class cruiser that had been granted access to dock despite normally strict docking restrictions.  I held a plasma rifle in a low ready position as the vessel moved into its final position before powering down.  I held my hand up signalling the security teams to “hold” as I stepped forward into the hangar.  The crew access hatch opened, and a man with a similar build to myself with long hair and wearing a black duster stepped out from the vessel.  I lowered my rifle and let my hand rest down by my side.  “Ferris fucking Lex,” I said with a smirk, “How the fuck have you been?”  He looked around, knowing that if he had been a hostile entity, the hostilities wouldn’t have ended well, “Not too bad for an honest pilot.  Looks like piracy has been treating you well.”  I chuckled and motioned for Ferris to follow, “Well, piracy is treating me well enough.  But the honest work of a lot of my alliance pilots is what brought this dream to fruition.”  

I guided Ferris to an office door bearing the logo of Order of the Shadow and stepped inside, motioning for him to have a seat, “So, what brings you out to the ass end of the empire?”  “Never one for small talk,” Ferris said with a broad grin, “Well, I have a score that you might be interested in.”  I reached over to my desk, and pulled the pack of cigarettes from the top drawer, only to pull one from the pack with my teeth and set the pack down before lighting the cigarette that now hung loosely from my lips, “I’m listening.”  “Well, if you remember well enough, that freighter of yours had a sister ship,” Ferris said, reaching into his coat, only to retrieve a small data chip and then place it onto the reader on my desk.  I was skeptical, as I had heard the distress call that The Devil’s Luck had sent out the night she was lost.  The reader displayed a holographic image of a badly damaged Obelisk-class Freighter and a set of coordinates.  From the look of it, the ship was sitting in the hangar of a derelict station, “There is no fucking way this is real.  I heard that ship fall under attack, and the distress calls didn’t sound too promising.”  “Well, apparently there was a passing Federation patrol that didn’t take too kindly to their pilots being attacked, even if they were pretty far into enemy territory.  A report got generated, and then was summarily destroyed, the entire incident being purged from the in-flight recorders of those ships,” Ferris continued.  I looked at the coordinates, “That thing is stuck in the Black Rise region on the far side of Tama.  That entire area is a war zone,” I said, rubbing the stubble on my chin.  Ferris snickered, “Well mate, if you think you can’t get in there and figure out the fate of the ship, I guess I could hire someone else.  But I know you always managed to get me out of some tight spots back in the day.”  I considered the ramifications of the proposal, “What’s the angle?”

Ferris laughed, “I was hoping you would ask that.  The original superstructure of the ship was pretty much slag, and there are a lot of disgruntled personnel that have been stuck out there for quite some time.  On the up side, the ship has been retrofitted, and they almost have the jump drive online.  So it’s been converted to an Anshar-class.  The problem is, they don’t have anyone that can pilot one, and they only want someone that they can trust.”  “So we’re basing this on my reputation, and they’re operating on an assumption,” I replied, rapping my knuckles against the side of my desk.  “Exactly,” Ferris replied, “However, most of these guys are rogues, so there’s no telling what the hell they’d do to someone coming to help them.  So I’d recommend taking a small task force out, and then board the ship with an armed boarding party, clear out anyone who plans on putting up resistance, and then taking the ship.”  “You want the ship for yourself,” I inquired, “Don’t you?”  “Absolutely.  However, I’m more interested in the cargo, as there is some pretty decent hardware in there that could fetch a nice price on the market, or increase effectiveness of capsuleer vessels in the right hands,” he replied, “and I’m willing to split the cut with you, just like the old days.”  “You’re going to have to make me a better offer than that, as your idea of splitting the cut cost me repairs on multiple ships, and several good men,” I retorted.  “Fifty percent, equipment provided, crew provided,” Ferris said flatly.

“I’m in,” I replied.


Daily Devotional

Posted in After Action Reports with tags , , on September 11, 2016 by Jack Carrigan

“There will always be the things out there to shake your faith.  Or make you question the existence of a loving god.”



I had been hunting in the Dom-Aphis area with Tetsuya, spending the large majority of the time I was there chasing around two pilots who could talk a lot of shit, but couldn’t do anything to back it up other than run away, or call for outside intervention.  There were very few places on the hull of Wotan, my Devoter-class Heavy Interdictor that had any shine that remained due to a combination of corrosion, space debris and actions in combat.  One of my camera drones caught a glare from the sun as I tried to align toward an Orthrus-class cruiser that was running from me.  After a few moments, I grew bored, and went back looking for something that would actually be willing to put up a fight.  I warped to the Assez solar system stargate and sat approximately twenty kilometers off of the gate, hoping that something would be foolish enough to engage, but most of the pilots passing through knew better.  After about an hour, I grew tired of chasing around pilots who had no desire to actually fight something that would stand any risk of killing them, so I warped to the Dom-Aphis stargate.

As I came out of warp and the sublight engines re-engaged, I observed a Stratios-class cruiser on the gate.  I had a gut feeling that he was about to attack me.  I jumped into Dom-Aphis



Wotan decloaked approximately fifteen kilometers from the stargate, and then I noticed the Stratios decloak as I had expected.  He began locking me, and I returned the sentiment.  He then applied a warp disruptor and fired his microwarp drive to burn away from me and the gate.  That mistake would prove to be the one that was fatal.  “Focused script, engage warp disruption field generator now,” I barked to my electronic warfare officer.  The Stratios slowed down noticeably, and began burning closer.  He engaged me with a warp scrambler, neutralizer and stasis webifier.  I smirked, “Well, we’re committed now.  Good.  Tet, go ahead and jump in.”  

Tetsuya responded by jumping into the system in his Scythe Fleet Issue, only to engage a warp disruptor on the Stratios that had been foolish enough to commit a suspect level offense while so near sentry guns.  Autocannons spun up and came to life as my capacitor went empty.  My drones were damaging the Stratios, but not nearly as much as Tetsuya’s Scythe, nor the sentry guns.

I figured I had enough time to open a comm to the pilot, and offer to release him for a cost, but went ahead and disconnected it immediately after I saw the vessel explode seconds later.  I needed to let my capacitor recharge, so I made my way to the wreck and pulled approximately four-hundred million ISK worth of valuable modules into my cargo.  I sent half the value to Tetsuya, and set a course for home so that I could take the valuable goods to market.  I love it when other people’s mistakes turn into a payday for me.


A Fool and His ISK

Posted in After Action Reports with tags , , on August 30, 2016 by Jack Carrigan

“When some idiots get a bit of money, the first thing they do is spend it on shit that they have no business flying.”


I was in the ice field, when I noticed that Lady Gar’s Mobile Tractor Unit was still there.  “Yeah, it’s still here, they didn’t get to it,” I smirked, “Where are they?”  Gar replied, “I have the Nightmare having just jumped into Bordan.”  “Hold out as long as you can, I’m on the way,” I laughed.


The gate flashed, Gar calling out over comms, “I need to leave here soon.”  “Don’t worry, I’m here,” I said with a smirk, willing Domr, my Bhaalgorn-class battleship, the blood red horror of Amarrian legend locking the Sansha’s Nation battleship as a volley of beam lasers crossed my bow.  “Engineering,” I said with a smirk, “Hit him now!”  The Nightmare pilot’s shield booster cycled, and a second volley came from his lasers, but that would be the last activity from either module type.  The capacitor of the Nightmare-class battleship was at the mercy of Domr.  Warp disruptors and stasis webifiers held the ship fast as AAie arrived in a Tengu-class strategic cruiser, and began to pummel the doomed vessel.  I watched the telemetry feeds as its armor fell violently, clearly nothing in place to increase resistances or to reinforce it.  A sardonic smirk crossed my lips as my Ogre-class heavy drones along with AAie’s heavy missiles tore into the structure of the Nightmare, which once stood as a proud advanced vessel from a Sansha’s shipyard, but what it boiled down to, is the pilot had no clear idea what he was doing.

The pilot’s cohort, who was seen in a Moa-class cruiser quickly fled the scene when he realized that my attention was turning to him.

The Nightmare violently shuddered, effectively dead in space as its crew was being vented into the cold vacuum of space through numerous hull breaches.  Fires were visible within the corridors of the vessel before they were snuffed out by a sudden lack of atmosphere.  The vessel started listing to the starboard side, a chain of explosions erupting throughout the ship, having started at the reactor.

I shook my head, “A fool and his ISK, eh?”  I then set a course for home.


Thoughts From the Commander #192

Posted in From the Commander with tags , on August 26, 2016 by Jack Carrigan

Anger is an appropriate and acceptable response to stupidity.  Unfortunately killing them is usually frowned upon.

Thoughts From the Commander #191

Posted in After Action Reports with tags , on August 8, 2016 by Jack Carrigan

When things are going well, don’t sit back and comment on how quiet it is.  The results you will receive will be less than pleasant.

Origin of a Huntsman

Posted in After Action Reports with tags , on August 6, 2016 by Jack Carrigan

“Sometimes it is the beginning of a story that makes the difference as to how it ends.”


I was sitting in one of the bars in the lower levels of the stations with a few friends of mine of ill repute.  One of them smirked as he held up an obscene gesture toward the waiter who had told him that he could not smoke in the establishment.  I leaned back on my seat and lit a cigarette as well.  “So, Jack, I have a little wager for you,” the Brutor man said with a smirk.  I cocked an eyebrow, “Alright, what’s the score this time?”  “A Malediction-class interceptor in the main hangars.  Some hot-shot Imperial officer’s private ride.  Deadspace pirate microwarp drive on it,” he said smiling broadly, “You can’t get that ship, I get your Vigilant.”  I snickered to myself as I took another drag from my cigarette, “That it?  You underestimate my abilities.”  “Well, then we’ll up the ante.  You lose, I get your Sin,” he smirked.   “Easy enough,” I replied, “I win, I get your Cynabal.  But you have to clean it first.”  “Fair enough,” the Brutor said with a smile as he shook my hand.  I stood up and paid my tab before departing.  The Jin-Mei man that had been seated with us started laughing, “You’d better start cleaning that Cyna now mate.”  “Fuck you,” the Brutor replied.

I walked to the nearest mag-lift, only to ride it to the capsuleer levels.  I wasn’t about to lose a bet, especially with Sjau on the line.  As the door opened, a young man wearing the uniform of an Imperial Ensign boarded.  When the door opened at the next floor, the young man would be seen laying on the floor, blood flowing from his nose.  I stepped off the mag-lift palming a keycard.

I made my way down toward the hangar access, and noticed a sign saying “Restricted Area – Use of Deadly Force Authorized.”  I held the card up to the reader and heard a click, only to have the door slide open.   I stepped through, and found myself in a sprawling hangar, numerous Amarrian vessels present from frigate to cruiser in class.  It was obvious that I was in the hangar for line pilots.  I made my way toward a large pane of glassteel which separated the hangars, more advanced vessels on the other side.  I then saw the vessel which I was supposed to steal.  I walked across the hangar, keeping close to large pallets of cargo, mostly nanite repair paste and lenses for lasers.  I then observed a man walking toward the access hatch near the glassteel viewport.  He held a keycard up, and the hatch opened.  I swiftly approached, and as he stepped through, I entered the hatch door behind him, my right hand crossing his face, only to catch him by his left cheekbone, and with a sharp twist, I heard a defined crack as his body went limp.  I let it drop to the floor before squatting down, and hooking my arms under his only to drag the body behind a power loader.  I rifled through his pockets and found a few credits and a keycard.

I made my way toward the Malediction-class Interceptor, and noticed that the crew access hatch was open.  I pulled myself into the small vessel, and closed the hatch.  I found a capsule already emplaced, as military vessels tended to stay in a higher state of readiness, consistently prepared for immediate launch.  I sealed myself in the capsule and began running preflight checks before powering the vessel up as to avoid raising too many suspicions.  A smirk crossed my lips as a warning was projected across my retina, but it was too late.  I willed the tiny vessel’s reactor online, and seconds later, I felt a vibration run through the vessel as power was being transferred to the sublight engines.  Due to the exterior camera drones, I could now hear alarm klaxons, and knew that if I didn’t act quickly, I wasn’t going to pull this off.  I willed the small vessel upward, and then rerouted power to the engines, willing the throttle to maximum.  Prior to even clearing the now-closing hangar bay doors, I engaged the microwarp drive, and sent a wash of ion radiation from the engines across the hangar, which would cause anyone not in a vessel to be killed due to overpressurization and radiation.

The vessel escaped into the undocking queue and local trade traffic.  I opened a private communications channel to my friend, “Go ahead and deliver that Cynabal to Iderion.  I’ll pick it up later.”  A smirk crossed my lips as I began to align the vessel to the Sarum Prime stargate, only to feel a faint shudder as the vessel’s sublight engines was being reduced as it was rerouted to the warp core.  A second later, the sublight engines cut out as the warp core finished spooling up and I could hear a calm voice in my mind, “Warp Drive Active.”


Priming the Engines

Posted in After Action Reports with tags , , on July 29, 2016 by Jack Carrigan

“Most people refer to the great engines of war.  The issue is, most of these fools fail to prime the engine, or even fuel it prior to trying to get the gears turning to get the engines in motion.”


I stood in the station concourse in front of a small shop that I had frequented regularly, looking to buy a pack of cigarettes, “Well shit.”  I shrugged and shook my head, knowing well that the business had been in good standing, but noticed the “OUT OF BUSINESS” sign on the front of it.  I pulled the last cigarette from my pack, and lit it, tossing the empty pack into a waste receptacle nearby.  I stretched and made my way toward the cafe I usually visited and sat down outside the concourse.  The waiter walked over, and I ordered a cup of synthetic coffee.  A few moments later, I was finishing my cigarette, and the waiter brought my coffee over.  I took a sip of it, and pulled a report out from my vest pocket, and began looking it over.  I yawned as I pulled out a pen and began making some minor alterations to be typed up later.  The reconnaissance from last night had paid off.


I jumped into the system in Gungnir, my Nemesis-class Stealth Bomber and immediately aligned, cloaked and run a long range scan with the on-board directional scanner.  Nothing on scan.  I initiated a warp to the asteroid field near Actee II, and had nothing noteworthy come up on scan.  It was when I warped into the asteroid field near Actee VI that I picked up an Orca-class Industrial Command Ship within one AU.  A quick change of angle on the scanner revealed that the Orca was sitting off of a local Astrahus-class Citadel that was owned by Obsidian Engineering.  Local telemetry revealed that Neferfiti Akhenaten was the pilot of the Orca, and that Drake Draconis was in fact in the system, likely docked in the citadel.

I adjusted the positioning of Gungnir, and remained cloaked approximately one-hundred fifty kilometers from the citadel.  After a few minutes, Neferfiti docked the Orca.  A quick search of corporate records revealed that both Drake and Neferfiti had jumped corps prior to his prior corporation, ARMAXX HEAVY ARSENAL losing the war that had been declared against them by Public-Enemy with an estimated two and a half billion ISK in losses, including a Hulk-class Exhumer being flown by Drake himself.  That painted his previous corp as an easy mark, and clearly showed that he wasn’t nearly as paranoid as he used to be.  However, my sudden undetectable presence in his home solar system likely changed that.

After gathering as much intelligence as I could, including using my camera drone to capture visuals of locations, I aligned back to the stargate in which I entered the solar system from, only to jump back out and set a course for home.


When Trianna came back in from her hangar, clearly covered in grease from working on several of the vessels in there, she would find me sitting at my desk finishing an intelligence report which would be sent out to all members of our previous alliance that I still had positive contact with.  She cocked an eyebrow, “It’s not like you to be doing desk work at this time, what’s up?”  “Intel report on that shithead,” I replied without looking up.  “Well, more ships are combat ready for tomorrow, although a few of them are short modules that we’ll have to wait to build or get a run from neutrals,” she said with her hand on her hip.  I flicked the knife from its sheath on my back, and pulled out a sharpening stone, “Gotta make sure this is ready for when we strike.”  Tri smirked, “You do that.  I guess I’ll just shower by myself.”

The knife and sharpening stone were quickly abandoned.