Fresh start, Fresh Pilot

26th January YC117

My name is Utari Onzo, and I am an alcoholic wormhole dweller.

True though this statement is, with my particular taste for Koramonian brandy greatly increased since moving in to Anoikis, that is not the point of this rather public posting on GalNet. I am here to tell you stories, tall tales that vaguely resemble the truth of what goes on in this particularly obscure pilot's life. These are my Deep Space Reports.

Rather then going all the way back through my history, let's keep things current. It's been a month since I joined up with an old friend of mine, Jay Joringer, in his revival of the corporation 13. and I must admit, we've had a few ups and downs since moving in to Lazarus, but on the whole it's been fun. I've been living in W-Space for a little while now, and being part of developing something that feels new is like going back to my first corporation after I graduated as a capsuleer.

One thing about 13. that I've particularly enjoyed is our current habit of taking on wayward pilots. Namely, those with a lot of experience living within known space, but are completely new to Anoikis and all its myriad wonders. Giving these pilots the chance to explore that which you cannot find in the cluster is satisfying, especially when we put them through the meat grinder against almost impossible odds and came away with a moral victory. But one pilot in particular has caught my attention. Pilot codename "Zerolaws" or as we like to call him, "Doc."

Doc came to us after an unfortunate incident in which he was trapped and killed exploring a wormhole for the first time. For a long while after graduating as a pilot, he had mostly focused on running missions for the various Empire agents, and filling his time with brutal crack downs of pirate forces in his local area. After his rude awakening to the brutal tactics of capsuleer engagements, he decided enough was enough. He would learn how to protect himself from other pilots, and more importantly, make pilots want to learn to protect themselves from him.

One morning, I was going through recent contacts to an advert we had up on GalNet when his name came up. We had already seen the video of his destruction from some friends in No Vacancies, along with a word of warning that he had approached them for recruitment. Bemused, I decided to invite him to our public communications channel to see what he was about. It quickly became apparent that this wasn't some bumbling idiot who got his ass handed to him, but rather a pilot who had been given the jolt to the system needed to make radical changes to his life, not something you usually see in an Intaki used to the monotomy of HiSec. Of course, I was a little more cautious, given that I had dealt with many pilots trying to pass of as inexperienced in order to rub us for all we're worth, but Jay gave the guy the benefit of the doubt and I did too following a face to face interview.

In no time, Doc had become an integral part of our team, quickly establishing himself as one of our premier scouts. It felt right we'd repay that with education on combat tactics and the correct handling of starcraft in engagements. Of course, theory does little without putting it in to practice, and we hadn't had too many fights of note with our wormhole brethren. I was getting bored, and I'm quite sure the other pilots too.

Enter stage left, the Duckling Union. This capsuleer alliance connected to us on what seemed a pretty regular day for ourselves. Dead static, dying wormholes all around us and not a sight of a fight to be seen. Come the afternoon, things changed. As one of our pilots was navigating his way through the chain, he reported two Sabre class interdictors and a Vexor class Navy Issue cruiser engaging him. Getting out with his ship in a bad state, I decided to check things out. Boarding my Vagabond Heavy Assault Cruiser, aptly named "Speed Freak" (yes, I'm terrible at christening my ships, pod me over it) I decided to warp over to the wormhole's co-ordinates. Lo, and did fortune offer her glorious bounty.

An Armageddon class battleship passed through the wormhole's maw, and promptly engaged my vessel. Being hammered with a full rack of energy neutralizing batteries is quite the experience, but luckily my vessel was equipped with a full cargo hold of capacitor boosters, and reinforcements were quick to arrive. After a brief skirmish, with various reinforcements of their own pouring in and some dying to our guns, both sides retreated after our scanners picked up signals of a large group of Ishtars incoming. Now, this fight would be all well and good, but the best part came later. After Jay went out looking again a few hours later, he noted our neighbors killing sleepers down the chain. Forming up once more, we caught an errant Guardian jumping in to us, either bravely trying to mass the hole, or more likely he confused where his own fleet was.

With no time to delay now the Fedo was out the bag, so to say, we rushed in to try to catch anyone making a break to their home, and were rewarded with two guardians and a Vexor  for our efforts. More importantly, we had facilitated in Doc getting his first taste of being involved in the humiliation of an enemy with superior logistic support, while having none of our own. Smug doesn't even come in to it.

And so, while a little long winded, I finish up this report with a brief thought. Don't ignore pilots simply because of their background, for one day they may be coming after you!