paritybit | private log | 20100325

We think we can change New Eden. Can we? Can two pilots make an impact?

paritybit | private log | date unrecoverable

I woke up to the familiar din of comm chatter filtering through my implant. I’ve grown accustomed to filtering out the useless or inappropriate data and focusing on the important bits; today every message seemed to matter. A quick replay of the most recent highlights told me our scouts had found a passage to high-security Caldari space through the labyrinth of wormhole space we’d entombed ourselves in. A plan was being drawn up to move our Orca class vessel into known space to retrieve fuel for our station, temporary home to dozens of pilots like myself.

I’d arrived only a week before with a single logistics ship not suitable for a defense detail. Thankfully I’d woken early enough in the planning stage that I had time to navigate myself through the passage to acquire a combat vessel for the escort force. I docked my Guardian into the high-security hangar array and ejected my delicate pod into cold, dark space. As I prepared for a journey through w-space solar systems I wished I could secure my pod in a well-armored frigate or at least a shuttle — but the harsh logistical climate of w-space does not allow for such luxuries.

Floating in a capsule of goop I directed my mind one last time through a systems check. Noting a red mental icon, I drew it closer in my mind’s eye; a tertiary system — me, the pilot — was operating at sub-optimal capacity due to sleep deprivation. I closed this notice with a mental command to suppress it’s display in the future — I’ll sleep when I’m dead. With systems showing green across the spectrum, I initiated warp.

A moment later I was dropping out of warp and staring in wonder at the wormhole which dwarfed my pod; realizing the danger of tarrying and not wanting to lose myself in the rhythmic pulsing, I recalled my camera drones and maneuvered my capsule into the eye of the beast. Seconds ticked by with no sensory input before I arrived at the other end of the wormhole. Quickly I released the camera drones and initiated a scan of the system. My heart nearly stopped as I noted a well-armed station and several capital ships within scan range; certainly the scouts had noticed these monsters. A quick call through the comm channels confirming that the locals in this system were not hostile soothed me enough to warp to the next wormhole on my route.

After the fear I’d experienced in the first system, the rest of the route was uneventful and I popped into Kamio; my implants came to life as comm chatter droned in the background and my ship’s systems began the familiar handshake with Concord control. I quickly made my way to Jita where I was able to acquire an Ishkur and the requisite combat systems. I paid the station manager a bonus to fit my ship as quickly as possible and was on my way back to the unknown within minutes.

Now in an extremely swift and well armored assault frigate, I felt no fear at entering the wormhole and traversing the systems I’d traveled once before. I met the Orca and it’s escort on the first leg of their journey and accompanied them the rest of the way to high-security space. As the Orca waited for it’s load of fuel and supplies, I busied myself by navigating the path once more, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Finding nothing anomalous, I returned to security duties with the Orca.

Finally, our Orca, now laden with precious supplies, prepared to jump back into the dangerous cordon of wormhole space. We sent our stealthy Falcon ahead to ensure the route was still clear while the remaining escort (a Nemesis class stealth bomber and my assault ship) jumped immediately ahead of the Orca. After three uneventful jumps, our luck changed. The wormhole into the occupied system, the last leg of our journey, closed behind the Orca as it’s mass proved too much to handle.

As we hadn’t intended to go back anyway, we pressed on to the wormhole that would take us to the safety of our makeshift home. Our three ships emerged from warp in time to see a Phoenix, the mighty Caldari dreadnought, emerge from a collapsing wormhole — the wormhole which would have taken us home. Now realizing that both our entry and exit were lost, a flurry of comm chatter ensued as the Orca immediately began an emergency warp to deep space.

The pilot of the dreadnought demanded to know our intentions; and though these pilots had been uninterested in aggression thus far, we feared our Orca was in danger. The usually quiet wormhole space was filled with quite public communication between our pilots and theirs. “Your Ishkur’s transponder identifies itself in the language of pirates,” noted the Phoenix pilot, “are you hostile?” I cursed my fondness for ancient Earth languages and the Russian name I’d hastily picked for my ship.

“Negative, we’re friendly. You’ve closed our exit,” I replied. A few minutes of negotiations secured an uneasy peace; our Orca activated it’s emergency cloaking device and the bomber pilot maintained a vigil over the system scanner. Our hosts ensured us that we’d be safe from them until we found a suitable exit wormhole. Thankfully my paranoia had encouraged me to fit my Ishkur with a probe launcher and my common sense had led me to fill it with probes. The Orca also had a probe launcher, but to use it required that the Orca drop the safety of its cloak which meant it would be vulnerable for a few moments.

I set to work probing for exit wormholes with the help of the Nemesis pilot who’d previously scouted this system. After what felt like hours, we found an exit. I volunteered to enter the wormhole; it dropped me into the no-man’s land that is the Great Wildlands — a den of lawless scum — in a dead-end pocket designated U3K-4A. We decided that to take the Orca through this treacherous region was tantamount to suicide.

I returned to our temporary prison and once again launched my probes. I rejoiced as I found a second wormhole; this one led to another unknown wormhole system. I continued my search for a suitable exit in this new system, cursing my lack of sleep which dulled my intellect and slowed my pace. I discarded signature after signature as they turned out to be sleeper-infested sites until I finally stumbled upon a wormhole. I knew this would be our exit; it must be, or we would be trapped. As I anxiously approached the wormhole, my heart dropped as the scanner indicated this exit couldn’t handle the massive Orca.

Our two remaining choices were to wait until a suitable wormhole appeared — which might take days — or scout further into the Great Wildlands to see if safe passage could be found. We made the decision to begin scouting the Great Wildlands. Our route would be four jumps through null-security space and another two through low-security space before reaching the relative safety of Concord patrolled high-security space. As we began to scout the route, we noted that this space was uncharacteristically quiet and we began to hope.

The route was clear and we were determined to get the Orca out of harm’s way. We left the decision to the Orca pilot who came to the conclusion that this was our best option. With the decision made, we began the process of escorting the Orca out. The trip to high-security space was thankfully anti-climactic as hostiles made brief appearances in the systems we traveled, but never came within scan range.

Now we wait. I sit here, in this cantina, drinking a beverage I can’t identify. As I drink, I hope our scouts will soon find a new route for us to return to our comrades. And with our return, we will bring the sustaining fuel and supplies still weighing heavily in our Orca.