Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Chapter One

Pirating in the Wild West

ISK Balance: 161,000,000

I forked over a little cash for a Rifter after making it to Paye, a high security system nuzzled up against the Traumark Installation, my first target for some low security action (I know it's not the west! I'll get to that, don't you worry). I had some fun with it and fitted it out Tech 2. The only solo kill I have to my name was a Rifter fitted with Tech 2 gear, which struck me as ironic as I jumped around the immediate area gathering the few modules needed to fill up my slots. I thought of the ISS pilot doing the same in his home near C3-, steadily acquiring the modules needed to make his Rifter the mobile mini death machine he imagined it would become. That is, of course, before I struck it down with the righteous fury of eight 280mm artillery cannons. That death was followed in turn by my own, consisting of the usual 0.0 beatdown (interceptors, NanoCurse, several battleships, maybe a carrier or two)

Also, the first time I was ever pirated was at a Rifter pilot's hands, back in 2004. My first Comorant, my fourth ship after a pair of Merlins and a Kestrel, was chewed up and spit back out by the shocking, in-your-face power of three autocannons and a rocket launcher. I was left dazed, wondering what an awesome ship had just picked mine to pieces. That first brush with pirating was what left me with the romantic notions of a low-sec 1v1 ballet between nimble ships, their pilots striving to bring their guns to bear with accuracy upon the other's hull. For these reasons of mobility and firepower, I bravely led my crew into The Traumark Installation from the helm of my Rifter.

Man, am I stupid.

It's not like I died or anything, but you know you've brought the wrong ship when the real pirates undock from the station in three battleships and a flashing-red Chimera. I was not going to get any kills past a shuttle or two, much less any admirable acts of piracy. Forlorn, I took my positive security status and my Rifter back to high security, where it quietly rocks back in forth in a hangar somewhere in Paye. The poor thing didn't even earn a name.

Then, back at Apocrypha's helm, waving goodbye to the pirate ship that would never be, I set out for what I hoped to be one of the mighty BoB's shipping canals in the west.

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