Tuesday, 15 December 2009



The Ishkur tears through space, bleeding fuel, drones slide back into its bay as the ship aligns for warp-


Milo working on a tabletop, he carefully pulls apart a small metal object, bringing one part up into the light with a pair of forceps-


The cloaked silhouette of an Arazu slides through space, light diffusing around it’s curved hull. Camera drones swerve 180 degrees and zoom in on a Viator anchoring a Gallente-made control tower-


Market figures, hundreds of them, scrolling by at a rate too fast to pick out any individual items-


A Brutor woman, pushing Milo against a wall-


Milo, hunched over a console in an office, strange blueprints scatter the floor and desks-


A young man, proudly walking through a crowd with a group of others, the FNA insignia clear on his jacket-




The camera drone pans back, revealing Milo curled and shaking violently in a doorway across from the workbench-


Monday, 30 November 2009


Milo appears on screen. He looks pale, and has dark rings under his eyes. He is, however, smiling, and is putting together an implant on the workbench in front of him. He reaches out with one hand to configure the camera drone.

Busy and really rather profitable week really. I've spent most of my time pulling together various contracts, and a short amount of time ensuring further cooperation of future clients.

We're finally coming close to pulling together a proper contract system for ah- clients in Nadire. I've netted so many contracts in the past few days we're going to need it.

He pauses and squints at the implant on the worktop, before adjusting some internal wiring.

My little scheme for encouraging pilots into low security space is going well. The last roam netted a few decent kills before eventually going out in a ball of flame. Still regret I made the decision to stay. Still, we did far more damage than was inflicted upon us, and most importantly, everyone enjoyed it.

Milo stops again, this time setting some pins on the side of the implant. He checks his implant socket, tilts his head and slots the implant in, wincing slightly as he does so.

I might head down to the Skyhook for a celebratory drink or two tonight. Maybe someone will show up. I've reconfigured my implants to compensate for my lack of sleep lately, so I should be alright.

He leans over and turn the camera drone off.

Tuesday, 10 November 2009


Dieu it's been a while. I'm getting worried.

Milo can be seen pacing back and forward across the screen, the camera appears to be at a slight angle, as if it's been put down in a hurry.

I've still not heard anything from Celia. It's just like she's- Vanished. No-one at her apartment, no console activity. I'd have started a search earlier, but recent events have kept me somewhat occupied.

He stops pacing and moves across the room to another console, entering commands with his back to the camera.

I can't believe I nearly- nearly forgot. It's almost as if she- slipped my mind?

He pauses, a look of confusion crossing his face.

It's these damned implants again I just know it! I thought I'd solved the problem when I was out in Syndicate.

He stops typing and makes his way back towards the Camera. The feed stops abruptly.

Thursday, 29 October 2009


Well it's finally happened.

Milo can be seen sitting at a desk. The backdrop is unfamiliar, the design Gallentean, but differing in several ways. There are fewer curves, and there are several organic-looking patterns around the edges of things.
Milo Gives a Sigh.

There was no chance I was going to be able to sit around in Nadire doing nothing for much longer I suppose. The Cartel makes work for Idle hands, and I've been Idle for a good while now.
I've been assigned an Agent in Syndicate. GN-ACS to be more precise.
I'd much rather be in Curse with the rest of the Ghosts, but it seems I committed some massive crime against the Angel Cartel in a past life, so I have to redeem myself here to start with.

Milo rubs his eyes.

It's not so bad I suppose. It was tiring getting in, but the Locals are slow and there aren't many of them. I've not run into any seriously organized groups yet. I'm hoping it stays that way.

End Log

Monday, 19 October 2009


The feed clicks on. Milo can be seen at his desk sorting through boxes of holo-reels. Noticing the Camera Drone is on, he smoothly sweeps a few from the desk before the drone can focus on them. Grinning, he adjusts the drone until it's focused on him.

I've been sorting through all my old documents from my FNA Days. Seems they've been boxed up with my assets
and have been following me from station to station. Waiting in the station warehouse each time. I guess I must've just been unlucky with the pending item messages or something, because I don't specifically remember anyone telling me about them.

He Sighs

I suppose I should be grateful that I finally have some peace and quiet. The ASRS thing turned out to be nothing at all. Guess mother is just really paranoid. Although-

He pauses, and then Pulls up a News Holo onto the feed. The Article, which covers the podding of a particularly prominent Academy Leader, displays on screen for around half a second before blinking out. A second article displays, this time an angel cartel Intelligence Report, listing a number of Theft charges against the victim. Milo is looking smug in the background.

He tore my dreams apart, so I help coordinate the destruction of his. Having nothing else to do certainly has it's advantages
. It even frees up time to respond to Interesting target calls on patrol we'd not normally aim for. If we're not after anything specific, we can pick and choose the most profitable targets as we see fit.

Milo shuffles through his Holo reels again, looking thoughtful. He reaches behind the Camera Drone, and ends the feed.

Sunday, 20 September 2009


Milo can be seen at his workbench. He looks relaxed, if a little tired. The area behind him is tidy again, although several boxes have cables trailing from them. The large viewscreen behind him displays the inner workings of an implant, however, Milo's annotations are too small to read from the camera drone's viewpoint.

Dieu I feel better for that. I had a chat with Heyna about everything that happened in Aurcel, and between us we managed to come up with a vague idea of who might be tracking me.
, or their remnants again. Heyna's going to try and get in touch with some of her old contacts, and if they're acting up as well, then I think I can be fairly sure of who I'm dealing with

He Sighs

In the mean time all I can do is turn security up and forget about it. I'm just hoping it clears itself up before I remember it again. I've been tweaking my implants again, making sure they're secure. I don't want a repeat of what happened when I started with PRETA.

I've seen far less of the Family than I'd like recently. Celia's been busy, Heyna has research to do, and everyone else seems to be in an argument or on patrol. There's a few interesting people I've met from PRELI who don't seem to fit into any of these categories, but unfortunately I don't see them often.

He pauses, moving off-screen to get himself a glass of water, then moving over to the workbench on the far side of the room to tweak something. After a minute or so, he wanders back to the camera drone, reaches behind it, and closes the feed.

Friday, 28 August 2009


Milo can be seen sitting at his desk. A thin layer of dust covers the worksurface in front of him. He brushes some of it away with his hand and sighs.

That was fairly horrible.

He reaches across off-screen and starts unpacking a case, continuing to talk as he does so.

Another damn attempt to get me back.

He scowls.

Emotional blackmail, My Sister's illness, My Father's problems. Mother seems almost desperate to get me back to Aurcel for good. I think-

He pauses.

If the others had be there I might- I might've stayed. For all I knew I was being lied to. Not once did I see any other relatives. It's almost as if they'd moved off-planet. I couldn't track them, records were obscure, or blocked, and all the while my Mother spouting these- lies!

Milo is almost shouting now, hurling things across the room as he unpacks his suitcase. He jumps as something hits the far wall with a crack. He sits up, closes his eyes and breathes deeply.

I realised about half-way though the week I'd forgotten to tell Celia, or anyone else for that matter, where I was going and decided to cut my visit short. I left quietly, leaving a note for Mother telling her not to try and track me. I doubt that'll deter the woman though. I left via private shuttle rather than Interbus this time. Should make me slightly harder to follow.

He sighs.

Still, I'm going to have to do something about it eventually. I need to get ahold of my Father and my Sister before anything else, and now I have the Cartel's equipment and expertise at my disposal I can afford to put less time towards finding them-

He cuts off. There's a buzz and Milo hurries off-screen, hurrying back for a second to turn the camera drone off. The PRETA logo flashes on-screen for a moment before the feed closes.

Monday, 3 August 2009


Milo can be seen on screen. he looks pale and worried. Half-packed crates litter the floor behind him.

More messages. Telling me to- come back. No reasons given, No replies to my questions. I'm catching the next Shuttle back to Aurcel.
It's been so long since I've seen my parents, and we didn't part on good terms, but-

He hesitates.

The Comet, the messages, They should have gotten over all of the crap that happened when I left? Right?

The feed runs for a while longer, before ending abruptly.

Thursday, 30 July 2009


Milo can be seen standing in his private hanger, grinning like a fool. Behind him, the golden hull of an Arazu gleams in the bright light of the hanger.

It's Arrived.

Milo walks off-shot, and the Camera Drone Pans around the ship for several minutes, before
cutting off completely


Friday, 24 July 2009


The Feed flicks on.
Instead of his usual apartment in the background, Milo appears to be sitting up in bed shirtless, and tapping into his datapad. Despite the black eye and shallow cuts and scratches on his torso, Milo looks unusually relaxed. Celia can be seen lying beside him on one side, asleep. Instead of talking into the log, text scrolls up from the bottom of the screen.

Well that was interesting.

There's a pause in the flow of text and Milo stops typing for a moment.

After a wonderful, if hastily arranged meal with Vince and Kelsy, I ended up trapped in the cargo lift with Celia for a few hours. I have no doubt that Vince arranged this, and I'm glad he did. He's been prodding and poking me about Celia ever since I installed his implant. Apparently he'd been doing the same about me with her.

Another pause.

She cornered me almost as soon as the elevator stopped and- well, I didn't realise she liked me quite so much. It's been far too long since I've done anything like that. I'm not entirely sure how I got by without.
We Ah- Eventually got the Elevator fixed and headed back here. She certainly knows how to live in style.

He Grins

I suppose I should close this feed in case I wake her up typing. It's still rather early.

Milo enters a few commands into the datapad, He types something in quickly, and the feed closes. The PRETA Logo flashing on-screen for a moment.

Friday, 19 June 2009


Milo can be seen sitting at his workbench in his apartment, hardware and empty mugs covering the surface like so many mushrooms. He looks unusually happy.

She's back.

He takes a sip of his coffee.

After god knows how many weeks planetside, Celia's finally come back. I'm not sure how I managed to stop myself doing nothing but mope for the past few weeks. Everything has seemed so- colourless in comparison to how I feel now.
It's amazing how fragile we are considering we can command entire ships, both emotionally and physically. Newt showed up in the Skyhook with a limp after getting involved with some ridiculous Matari sport, and how I felt when Celia expressed an Interest in it- What the Hell's wrong with me? Why do I feel so damn protective?

He sighs.

Change of subject. I managed to get myself a Taranis. It's a wonderful little ship, although it operates on the edge somewhat. So far I've had a chance to test it on a Hurricane and an Enyo. Both fights feeling more dangerous than usual, entering combat in such a thinly constructed ship. Moves damn fast though.

Another sigh. Milo glances over the messy worktop.

I suppose I should clear this mess up.

He reaches over to the camera drone, and the feed closes, the PRETA logo showing on screen for a fraction of a second before It blanks out

Monday, 15 June 2009


The feed clicks on. Rather than his apartment, Milo can be seen in a hanger control room. The camera pans around, revealing him to be alone. Through the viewing screen can be seen a number of techs bustling around a Comet class frigate. Milo looks over at it, and smiles.

Surprises. They occur more often than you might think. I've had a lot since I hooked up with the Ghosts, but nothing like this.

He gestures at the Comet.

For example, actually being accepted into Ghost Festival, considering my background caught me
by surprise. Losing my Ishkur for the first time caught me by surprise, as did my peers. I arrived expecting to be shunned and avoided but this is so- different.

He stops for a moment, turning back to the comet to give orders to one of the technicians, who seems to be explaining a lack of powergrid will cause issues with the weapons that need to be mounted. After about a minute of heated discussion, the
technician hurries off and shouts some orders. Milo turns back to the camera.

Oh yes. The Comet. This arrived from Alillere, the nearest retail outlet that does courier contracts from Aurcel. This was sent by my parents, I'm sure of it. It- I think it means they want to speak with me. I've had no contact with them since I left Livetech. I'm pretty sure they got this to me via IHLS. If they know exactly where I'm based, I'll be worried.

He Pauses

I don't think they'll approve of my chosen career path, but they have a right to know. Even if this means rejection all over again.

The feed closes, the PRETA logo flashing on screen for a second before it goes totally blank.

Thursday, 4 June 2009


The feed clicks on. Rather than his apartment, Milo is sitting at a desk in what appears to be a ship's cabin. The cabin follows the usual Gallente design ethic. Organic curves seem to permeate everything, and surfaces have a strange metallic sheen. The colours differ slightly from other Gallente frigate interiors. Reds and oranges, The corporate colours of Roden Shipyards, are prominent here.

Well, it seems I've managed to get myself into a real mess. After a night of heavy drinking to celebrate Heyna's admittance to Ghost Festival, I made the particularly stupid decision of taking the Heroiné out without trying to recover from the previous night. Now I'm stuck in Promised Land with a large fleet hunting me down.

He glances over his shoulder towards the door.

The crew don't seem too bothered by the fact that they're going to be stuck on board this ship for a couple of days while we wait for the system to clear out. I suppose they're used to living on board. I doubt I will cope quite as well.

I can't help but feel I've been slacking recently. Half of my targets are escaping because I make my approaches too obvious, Celia seems to be avoiding me, and now this.

He sighs.

I'm sure it'll turn out I embarrassed myself with Heyna in the Skyhook as well. I didn't get a chance to talk with her before I was cleared for docking.
I do hope it wasn't anything stupid.

The feed closes, and the log ends, a Roden Shipyards logo flashing onscreen for a moment before the screen goes black.

Thursday, 14 May 2009

Sleepless Nights

The Feed Clicks On.

Milo can be seen slumped at his desk, asleep. Hardware is scattered across the floor behind him, and what appears to be a half-completed blueprint can be seen lying beneath a box Marked 'Celia'.
The feed runs for about half an hour, before the message "Shutting Down due to inactivity" Appears, and a subroutine closes it.

Saturday, 11 April 2009


The Feed Clicks on. Audio Only. There's Static, a bump, and Milo begins his Log.

Last Night was... Interesting, to say the least. I've made a mental note not to take my date to the Skyhook in future. Vince, Kelsy and Kimochi, between them, managed to make a rather large mess of things. Whilst I'm concerned for all three of them, I'm pissed that they had to be so loud about it.

Still, I enjoyed the date up to that point. Turns out she speaks Gallentean quite well, which caught me by surprise. Way better than my Matari.

He Chuckles

We had a bit of a chat about things, My past came up again, The soup was good. Well worth the wait I think.

There's a Beep sounding very much like an error notification from a datapad in the background. Milo is heard swearing in Gallentean.

I'd just settled down after finishing my Soup, feeling very relaxed, when Drama breaks out on the other side of the room. Vince had managed to get himself into some kind of Love Triangle. I don't really want to know the details. I headed back to my apartment early, after bidding Celia goodnight.

There's a flurry of keys in the background, and another Error notification sound.

She's Far too distracting that one. It's really difficult for me to keep a clear head when she's aroun- Aha!

There's another Error message, a flurry of keys and the Feed Closes.

Thursday, 9 April 2009

Under the Influence

There's a Thud, and the Visual Feed clicks on. Milo comes into view, the camera drone tracking him as he crosses the room. He grasps for a bottle of water on a worktop, and finishes it all in one go.

"Oh, my head."

He closes his eyes, groans once more, and begins the log.

I honestly don't think I've had that much to drink since I graduated from FNA. I don't think I've enjoyed myself as much either. All I can really recall of last night is Me n' Celia trying to get through The Skyhook's entire stock of Gallentean Brandy.

He groans again

I think we might've succeeded. I found a badly written note I'd left for myself on my worktop. It read something along the Lines of "Food. Celia. Friday." I can only assume I asked her out to Dinner. I can't think what else it could've been.

I have vague recollections of Newt's snoring echoing throughout the Skyhook as Celia helped me out. I tend to lose control of my legs when I drink a lot. I should really try and work out why.

He rubs his head and looks over to a screen on the left.

Looks like my Ares has arrived. It's weird. only a week ago I swore by CreoDron, and flew no other. Two kills later, I'm heading into Roden built ships. Guess it's probably a good idea anyway, I generally prefer playing Gunner over Drone Controller.

He blinks again.

S'pose I'd better get this thing sorted out.

He heads over to a side door, and the sound of running water is heard. The feed winks out

Tuesday, 7 April 2009


My shoulder hurts.
I know full well it's just bruising from the sparring match I had with Celia the other day. It's not that it's particularly Painful, I just seem to be noticing it more.
Maybe it's my Implants. It's not like I don't have the time to check and refine them again.

The feed blinks off as Milo heads for a workbench covered in Hardware. Before the Audio goes as well, He's heard muttering something to himself about faulty circuits. The feed then cuts entirely.

Wednesday, 1 April 2009


Even now aspects of my past return to haunt me.
Well, I say haunt.
I ran into an old associate in The Skyhook the other night, A pilot who'd flown under my command in Asteri Ethnos.
A Kestrel Pilot, who had since moved on into a Hawk. I was under the impression that everyone who worked for me was either dead or against me. It seems this is not the case. She was understandably upset when I told her the truth about the implants we issued.

Without really thinking about it, I ordered her a drink and we ended up talking about her employment prospects with the Cartel. It looks promising. Commander Yishal mentioned some stuff about interviews. I'm seeing new faces all over the place, Heyna being the first of many.

Later that evening we headed out into The Bleak Lands, Almost landing a drake in Oyeman, but getting jumped by a larger fleet intent on catching it. From the scraps of intel and scanner data I managed to get it seems we were merely caught in a Crossfire. The ships intent on catching the Drake fighting amongst themselves. The Surviving Fleet, which was thankfully most of us, slunk out of Oyeman and docked up for the night.

Rather than making for my usual haunt in the Skyhook, I elected to take a walk around the station. On my way round I passed Celia's Quarters. I felt a small element of concern, as I haven't seen her for a few days. I pushed the thought from my mind and continued my little tour for another 30 minutes or so, before heading back to my Apartment and making another attempt to fix my implants.

They've been playing up since Seyllin...

Sunday, 22 March 2009

Point Pleasant

There are days when everything seems so negative. There are others where the opposite is true. Yesterday, was one of these.

As the docking clamps released my Incursus Class Frigate, 'République', I couldn't help but dwell on the Sparring session I'd arranged with Celia a few days back. There was a party on at the Three Sisters Bar tonight, and I didn't want to show up covered in bruises. Well, I suppose that wasn't the only thing on my mind, but I don't think I'm ready to face the other things yet.

A quick patrol into Uncharted space was organized. It was brief and uneventful. Scans picked up a number of Recently anchored structures, and a Dominix Class Battleship, which quickly disappeared from scanners. We re-entered K-Space disappointed and empty handed, heading back into Tzvi, and attempting to catch a 24IC Thrasher. He made himself scarce when we showed up. I headed station-side to meet with Celia, and the rest of the patrol carried on into the Bleak Lands.

I have to say I was pleasantly surprised at how relaxing the Sparring session was. The Gym itself was as I expected, but Celia... Celia was not. To be entirely honest, I'm not sure what I had expected.
We exchanged blows, and talked, about our pasts, Education, A few problems we'd had with people previously. I felt more relaxed than I had in a long time, and I was caught offguard, both literally and mentally when she asked about my Supression Subroutines. I was amazed anyone would even want to consider using them after people saw what I went through with it. I went over some of the nastier side effects and rapidly changed the subject in an effort to put her off. I wouldn't want to see anyone have to go through what I did.

Once sparring was over, we took the Interbus over to Jel, and made for the Three Sisters Laguna. It felt odd being back in Sinq Laison, yet not seeing any of my old FNA associates. I suppose they've all moved on like me.
Still, the party was good. Kimochi nearly broke my arms because she though I was ogling her from under the water, which I found immensely funny. Commander Yishal saved the day by pointing out that I'd probably enjoy it, causing Kimochi to let go, and settle for ducking my head under the water instead.

All in all, I enjoyed the party. I was relaxed, but my mind felt so... clouded, Like I didn't know what to do next. Things keep flashing through my mind, and I'm pretty sure it's not my implants playing up again...

Saturday, 14 March 2009


Incoming Transmission...
Priority: Urgent
Recipient: Trald Vukenda, Dominations
Original Sender ID: PRETA017, Tzvi

Forwarded By: Padoona Aghmayan, WY-9LL VIII - Moon 3 - Dominations Testing Facilities

ject: Initial Scouting Party into Uncharted 'W-Space'

Initial Surveys Indicated Discovered Wormhole was destabilizing, and led to an area of space that had not yet been charted. (Locus Signature J140322) Fleet Command Made the decision to send a number of low-mass ships with survey equipment through. Preliminary Scans Indicated 8 Plants of assorted sizes and types orbiting an A0 Class Star. System has been dubbed 'Ceiling Ghost', although it is unlikely it will ever be discovered by Cartel Pilots again. Nebulae and Constellations were completely unrecognizable. Further Scanning revealed a high concentration of Cosmic Signatures towards the core of the system. Due to time constraints, these were not investigated further. (See secure files attached regarding these) A Number of recognizable Signatures were picked up on scan, Amongst them an Ibis Class Frigate and two abandoned 'Hammerhead' Drones, suggesting that this system had been explored previously. The Ibis-Class Frigate was tracked down and salvaged in the name of The Angel Cartel. Readings are attached in a secure file, Camera Drone Recordings are also attached.

Thursday, 12 March 2009


Well, I wake up, and a whole planet along with the majority of it's inhabitants are gone.
Stock Markets have closed down, CONCORD are re-routing traffic to avoid anomalies caused by the event and I have about 300 Messages on my Datapad.
I should be able to take advantage of the situation, No-one's paying attention to the markets at a time like this.

There is a sigh, muffled sounds, And the recording ends.

Monday, 9 March 2009


There is a click, and static as the recording starts. Milo's voice seems calmer than it has been in previous entries.

These recordings have been a real help for me. They're another outlet that helps me stay sane.
Despite this, I still managed to lose my cool in The Skyhook after the PRETA Awards Ceremony last night. My suppression subroutines had been playing up, and Memories of Al kept Surfacing.
When they finally did start working again, I was in the most bizarre of moods. Ran into someone I'd seen in the bar a few times before, Names don't need to be mentioned as there's a possibility DED might get hold of these files, and he seemed a decent enough chap. 5 minutes after I'd met him, he'd sold Celia Nerve Sticks, and I was asking for Frentix.
Jude walked out, not wanting to get involved, and 5 minutes later, my Suppression Subroutines blew out completely.
I left the bar a wreck, ashamed, angry and wracked with guilt. Rather than taking the usual slow route back to my apartment, I used the maintenance elevators in the hope I could get back unseen.

There is a click, and soft, relaxing music is heard in the background.

As soon as I got back, I set security to maximum, and plugged myself in, purging every single kilobyte of data linked to the Suppression Subroutines from my head. I felt so much better for it, and I think I even managed to get rid of the last of the ASRS Firmware that had been hanging around in my head. It's not quite flawless yet, but we're getting there.
I can no longer hide from the problem regarding Suicide Circuits in old ASRS Implants, something has to be done before I lose more than old friends.

There is a click, and a beep from the background.

Hmm, seems Al's old Stabber has Arrived at last. Let's see what I can do with it...

There is another click, and the recording ends.

Saturday, 7 March 2009

Sodium Channels

There is a click, and static as the recording starts. A long sigh is heard.

Not only has it been a long day, but it got longer once I got off patrol. Patrol had been reasonably successful, with a fair number of targets presenting themselves, the most notable of which being a Cyclone, who melted with speed.
Once I arrived station-side, I made straight for my apartment. There were a few messages hanging around I'd been unable to check earlier. The first one blew my mind.

Dear Mr. Caman.
We are sorry to inform you that the individual known as Al Harken has passed away. We understand that he had ties with your previous organization, and it seems he has mentioned you in his will.
Mr. Harken was found in his apartment on Aurcel V at 14:00. Autopsy reveals that Mr. Harken died of a Brain Hemorrhage. No clones could be located, and no solid reason behind the Hemorrhage could be found.
Mr. Harken left you a small sum of ISK, and a Stabber-Class Cruiser (Registration 234-BB 'Delphi') The Cruiser can be found at Aurcel IV - Moon 17 - Aliastra Warehouse.
We are deeply sorry for your loss, and hope you can come to terms with Mr. Harken's Demise.
Kai Syntaki

I simply ceased to think consciously for a few hours. I had known Al from the start. I worked with him in LiveTech, I flew with him when ASRS was a dream, a concept, and even after he went planetside I stayed in touch, swapping intel and similar.
I used a suppression subroutine on my implant in an effort to put it out of my mind and headed down to The Skyhook, but despite the implant's programming, it kept surfacing.
I went back to my apartment early, and lay in bed, unable to sleep.

A typical suicide circuit operates in a similar way to some boosters. It overloads the synapses, and floods the brain with chemicals. Usually a neurotoxin, such as tetrodotoxin is used, as it acts to block sodium channels in neurons, preventing action potentials. This leads to paralysis and eventually death. There are few antidotes that can clear sodium channels, and, for that matter, death is almost always too swift for the correct antidote to be applied.
I cannot help but wonder whether the IHLS Autopsy found traces of tetrodotoxin.

There is a long pause, and heavy breathing is heard.

How many more will my Legacy claim before it finally collapses in upon itself for good?

There is static, and a click as the recording ends.

Monday, 2 March 2009

New Ishkur

Well it seems it's time for a new Ishkur again.
After a short roam through The Bleak Lands with little event, I now found myself with the rest of the PRETA Patrol in Sosala. The Fleet consisted of frigate-sized hulls, and we had picked up a number of interesting signatures on scan.
It all seems a little hazy now, but as I remember it we caught a Prophecy-Class Battlecruiser in the Ice Field. It disintegrated under the barrage of Laser and Autocannon Fire, my drones still ripping away at the Armor plates as the unfortunate pilot got his pod out of the fight.
Then it all went wrong.
Midway through the battle, an Onyx had appeared on the scene. Commander Yishal had given the order to get range, but not to engage, as we were nearly finished with the Prophecy, and at any rate, the onyx was firing on It as well.
There is a thud, and the sound of someone swearing quietly in Gallentean. The feed cuts off for a few seconds, and then flicks back online.
Several seconds after the Prophecy went down, I realised I was not gaining range on the Onyx. The cloud of water vapour and dust surrounding an Ice Asteroid had clogged my engines, and I was now moving at a fedo's pace. Seeing this, the Onyx promptly locked me in place with a warp scrambler. I managed to keep my ship together for quite a while by maneuvering manually in a wide arc around the Onyx, my ECM drones desperately trying to break his lock. Then, the rest of his fleet arrived and my Ishkur finally gave way under fire from four ships.
I slammed a hand against the side of my capsule in frustration, and went into warp instantly.
As I load modules for my new Ishkur into my hanger, I cannot help but feel a degree of respect for commander Yishal. Despite her thoughtless behavior towards Vincent, how irritated I was with her about it, and her general lack of Charisma, It seems I will have to acknowledge that she is an excellent fleet commander.
There is a long pause, a sigh, and the recording ends.

Tuesday, 24 February 2009


I have begun to gain trust and respect for the rest of Ghost Festival.
Even more so after last night, where the removal of my ASRS Implants caught up with me, and I was carried to medical by Celia and Zukko, After
revenge for the loss on an Incursus was had , and the degree of control that Ghost Festival Pilots have in space.
I feel... Accepted. It's strange, Even in Asteri Rising people were strictly business. There were few real friendships and much Backstabbing. Even though I've only been here for a few days, PRETA are looking out for me, teaching me, and doing their best to help me fit in.

Onto the more serious matter of my ASRS Implants: I had them removed very shortly after I joined Ghost Festival, but somehow components have found themselves into my head and I seem to be getting... 'withdrawal symptoms'.
I have a horrible feeling that Kyiac. (He no longer deserves his title of Director) may have coded a suicide circuit into the implants of certain members. The majority of people with experitise in Firmware were on his side of the ASRS split, and the small number that were not have lost contact with me.
What sickens me even more was that I once gave the go-ahead to initiate a suicide circuit within a member we considered 'too liberal' He had no clone. I never thought about it at the time, but now it worries me. My behavior in ASRS was cold. Thoughtless killing took place too often, even when there was no need for ISK or self-defense.

The more I think about it, the more I can see how we were doomed to fail from the start. Ghost Festival has helped me put it all behind me now, and I can see hope on the horizon again.

Saturday, 14 February 2009

Ghost Festival

Things are looking up again.
Since My last log, I have found help and employment in an... unexpected area. I was offered a position by PRETA. PRETA or Ghost Festival are an experimental project being run by the Cartel to see whether capsuleers can be bought into service by the Cartel as more than mercenaries.
Once I had passed the security checks and shifted what assets I had to their base of operations in the Bleak Lands I retired to my newly furnished apartment on the Tzvi Station. I felt far too tired to mix or interact with my new peers.
Within days of joining I have accumulated a number of kills, and have flown alongside PRETA on several occasions. As I finish this entry I can feel myself relaxing for the first time in weeks.
I think I've found my calling.

Friday, 6 February 2009


Then Molok the Deceiver sundered the lands and the people suffered floods and plagues conjured by him. Molok turned the people against the sefrim and people who once sang their praise now abhorred them.

Ametat and Avetat 43:13
Amarrian Scriptures

A lot has happened since I last logged an entry here. I have been cast aside by the remaining directorate of Asteri Rising. Barely given time to clear my apartment, I was pursued from the CBD outpost in Qeti by those I once considered my friends and allies. I headed for a quiet bar nearby and considered my options. I needed to disappear, and start again.
I spent Hours spent searching GalNet, hours of my life wasted skimming over trashy recruitment videos and adverts.
Eventually I gave up and drank myself unconscious. I woke up lying in the station corridor a few hours later with my sidearm gone and bruises all up my chest. Thank what gods there are my ISK was wired to my base implants, and, for that matter, my Implants were left alone. I didn't bother reporting it, and headed back to my temporary accommodation, feeling ashamed and sick.
I need to find a way out.

Tuesday, 3 February 2009


Well, Asteri Rising is Finally starting to collapse. I don't like to jump ship, but after the war with MO, it's been very stressful for me. The directorate have been pushing for me to leave ever since construction 312 was destroyed anyway.
I also can't help but feel the war could've been avoided.

Posthumanism was dead from the moment Sansha's Dream became a Nightmare. I don't know why we bothered...

On another note, my Ishkur's Pod Interface has been Mysteriously Locking up...

Milo Out.

Wednesday, 28 January 2009


It's been an interesting few weeks since we've moved into the Qeti Constellation. We've had a fair number of fights, our production lines are running again, and we've met some... Interesting Pilots. All in all, it's been profitable. On a more personal note, I made the decision to put my Vexor, the Python, back into the hanger for a bit and see what kind of results I get from The Sabre, a Brutix class battlecruiser I bought about a week ago. I was hesitant to try it out, as it lacks the capacity to take sentry fire for any length of time. However, I managed to convince myself that I would be careful with it.

A few hours later, however, being careful was no longer an option. A small fleet of red flagged pilots had entered Raravath, and we were not going to let them do whatever they intended to do. These same pilots had attacked, destroyed and podded a lone drake of ours a few days ago. They had arrived en-masse, in a large number of frigate and cruiser sized vessels, and converged upon the drake at a station. The Drake pilot claims there were at least 20, but I feel she may have been exaggerating.
Four of these pilots were now loose in our territory. I called fleet, and we gathered a Drake, Brutix, Helios, Blackbird and Maller. I waited impatiently as the pilots arrived one by one at the Raravath gate. The helios jumped through first, engaging it's cloak and warping to a designated safespot.

"Drake, Harbinger and Prophecy on Scan. Fourth Pilot may be docked or cloaked"
"Roger that. Everyone ready to jump through?"

There was a chorus of readies on the comms, and we jumped through.

"I've got them down to Planet III, they might be at the station, you want me to check it out?"
"Yup, just make sure you warp in at an angle, they might have something set up to decloak you if you come in at 100km from the gate."
Seconds later we got a reply.
"Yup, all three are here. you might need to come in from a different vector. If we engage them first-"
Our Drake Pilot had warped off in the direction of the station without us.
"Damn, Follow her in warp. I didn't realize she was this pissed about losing the Drake the other day..."
The Scene that met our eyes when we exited warp was not good. All Three Battlecruisers were pounding on the Drake's shields, and the sentries didn't appear to be doing anything. We were going to have to engage on their terms.
My heart pounded in my chest as I engaged my Microwarpdrive and gunned the Brutix towards The Harbinger. The Helios had called it primary before we jumped in, and rightly so. With every burst of it's lasers, Sabine's shield dropped a little more. I got into range and unleashed by Ion Blasters.
what was left of the Harbinger's shields were stripped instantly, and it disengaged it's lasers as it was jammed by the blackbird.
With Sabine now able to divert power to Her Missiles and Nosferatu systems, the Harbinger was now well into it's armor. It turned slowly in space, and prepared to head back into the station.

"Someone Ram him!" Screamed Sabine. Jiag took the initiative and Flew his Maller full speed into the battlecruiser. It took little damage, but the hit was enough to throw it off course long enough for us to finish it off. There was a wonderful blue flash and the Harbinger was no more.
I checked my overview and recoiled in horror as I saw my armor was well below 50%. the Prophecy and Drake, which had almost been forgotten in the rush to kill the Harbinger, had been chipping away at my armor.
"Kill the Damn Prophecy, it's at it's optimal, and getting closer to structure."
Xen was now too far away to jam it in his blackbird, and my capacitor was slowly being drained by my armor repairer, which was doing far less than it should have done. In a desperate attempt to save my ship, I launched my drones, knowing full well they would be destroyed by the sentries, but in the hope that it would do enough damage to kill the battlecruiser before it was too late. I gave a sigh of relief as the sentries cycled off me, onto my drones, and the Prophecy screamed back into the station's docking bay, bleeding fuel and oxygen.
The Drake was now well out of our range, and aligning to a different station. There were cheers down the comms, as we aligned to our safespots to repair and wait for the sentries to calm down and forget us. 5 Minutes later, the Helios pilot spoke again.

"Drake and Prophecy have undocked. Do you want to engage?"
"Hell yes."

We warped to the station, and again, I was called primary. Our Blackbird pilot had gone Awol, and we had nothing to Jam our targets, so I was taking heavy fire. Suddenly, my Microwarpdrive Disengaged, and my Heart Sank.

"I've been scrammed, Drake has me Scrammed!"
Suddenly, it's missiles were doing far more damage, and the Prophecy was hitting more than it had been. To make matters worse, I had no drones to save me this time.

"Going down, repeat, Milo is going Do-"

There was a blue flash, and my pod's interface froze up. I frantically gave the command to warp out. Suddenly, I was in warp, my pod had unfrozen, and I was sitting in space a few million kilometres, looking glumly at my scan.

"Uh, guys, we have a problem..."
"What now?"
"More Reds reported in Chemilip, a few more have jumped into local. It might be an idea to grab what we can from the wrecks and dock up. Now."

Everyone checked intel, and indeed, there were a lot of reds in local. Sabine Kindly scooped what was left of the Sabre into her cargo hold, and we docked up, leaving with what salvage we had.

I've now put my plans for a Brutix to one side until I can use more powerful turrets. I think I'll have the know-how to do some in about 15 Days.
In the mean time I've invested in an Ishkur. It's a wonderful little ship, and I've scored 8 or so kills in it so far. People have a real tendency to underestimate it.
Congratulations to Likhar for getting me out of my Brutix and finally into an assault frigate.