(posted with permission)
First Story:
Too often, I think we, as capsuleers, forget we have more in common than we are different. Something I have learned from my travels is that capsuleers always have great stories about cheating death. I thought we could share some!
My closest call came before I was a capsuleer, and indeed had I died that day I would have never known any of you. I was a bishop in my parish on Amarr, but I did have foreign duties. I was on my way in a family cruiser to meet a delegation to the Theology Council to attend a meeting on an addendum to the Book of Missions. The purpose of my journey is hardly important. What is important is that I was to transfer to a battleship convoy deep in Hedion to complete my journey.
Things started off well. We met the convoy, a battleship and a pair of destroyers, right on schedule and at the correct location. They sent us the proper codes and the DNA check revealed the pilots to be who they said they were. The battleship's captain followed all the correct protocols. Right when I had collected my luggage, though, he sent words that, to this day, chill me to the spine.
"Please tell Father Baracca to wait in the shuttle bay for us."
I stopped. No one calls me Father Baracca. My family is almost entirely made up of clergymen. 'Father Baracca' could refer to well over a hundred individuals. This is rather common in Amarrian society, where sons follow fathers into their professions. Any Amarrian would know to call me Father Constantin. Instantly, I knew we were outgunned and in the sights of hostile intruders.
I informed the crew, which spread general panic. A cruiser against a pair of destroyers and a battleship was hardly better than suicide, even that deep in our space. I offered to go regardless, to save the other men on the ship so that they could hopefully transmit for help when they had taken me. The ship's captain, to his credit, absolutely refused. We had mere minutes before my failure to transfer ships would become suspicious.
I asked the captain to rig up a DNA transponder with my blood. In the same way the would-be kidnappers had used the pilots they had killed to assume their identities, I decided to use the same technique. We needed to disable the battleship somewhat urgently. We loaded all of the extra fuel onto the shuttle, rigged its engines to overcapacitate on command, and sent it over. I informed them, through a linked channel, that I was late because I was having navigational difficulties. I would need to be towed into the battleship.
Things went according to our rather hasty plan for a time. They read my transponder, received my transmission, and began to tow me in. However, just as the shuttle was being towed into the bay, the battleship hailed me. It said it didn't detect me aboard. I must have fast-talked better than I ever had before, clearly impressing that I was aboard the ship, and that if they were having difficulty, perhaps we should call for another escort and shuttle.
They relented and drew the shuttle into their bay. Once aboard, we detonated the shuttle remotely. Being inside the hull, the shuttle did heavy damage to the battleship's structure. We took advantage of the surprise to press the attack, but the shock of war soon vanished. We were on our own and we were set upon by the enemy.
The fight took almost twenty minutes, our cruiser suffering heavy damage in the process. Luckily, the transgressors turned out to be Matari terrorists rather than the local terrorists I had become accustomed to. They had learned to fly our ships and spent a great deal of time stealing our codes and protocols, but did not have the finesse of a native laser user. To their credit, even when the battleship was destroyed (soon after the shuttle had crippled it), the destroyers fought on. They nearly had us, and seven of our crew died when the hull took heavy damage. I sustained a burn myself when a relay blew while I was attempting to take over for a dead targetting crewman.
We survived, though. We limped to the nearest station and reported the events. An investigation ensued and I missed the conference. To be honest, I was only thankful to be alive. It reinvigorated my faith, knowing that men like that cruiser crew were ready to die rather than allow me to sacrifice myself first at their expense.
I've had many closer calls as a capsuleer, but none more dangerous than the one which could have ended my journey permanently.
I'm sure you've all been near death or had to overcome overwhelming circumstances and we all love a good story.
I'll pour us all a round of cognac for story time.
(Source with comments: https://forums.eveonline.com/default.aspx?g=posts&m=3569421#post3569421)
First Story:
Too often, I think we, as capsuleers, forget we have more in common than we are different. Something I have learned from my travels is that capsuleers always have great stories about cheating death. I thought we could share some!
My closest call came before I was a capsuleer, and indeed had I died that day I would have never known any of you. I was a bishop in my parish on Amarr, but I did have foreign duties. I was on my way in a family cruiser to meet a delegation to the Theology Council to attend a meeting on an addendum to the Book of Missions. The purpose of my journey is hardly important. What is important is that I was to transfer to a battleship convoy deep in Hedion to complete my journey.
Things started off well. We met the convoy, a battleship and a pair of destroyers, right on schedule and at the correct location. They sent us the proper codes and the DNA check revealed the pilots to be who they said they were. The battleship's captain followed all the correct protocols. Right when I had collected my luggage, though, he sent words that, to this day, chill me to the spine.
"Please tell Father Baracca to wait in the shuttle bay for us."
I stopped. No one calls me Father Baracca. My family is almost entirely made up of clergymen. 'Father Baracca' could refer to well over a hundred individuals. This is rather common in Amarrian society, where sons follow fathers into their professions. Any Amarrian would know to call me Father Constantin. Instantly, I knew we were outgunned and in the sights of hostile intruders.
I informed the crew, which spread general panic. A cruiser against a pair of destroyers and a battleship was hardly better than suicide, even that deep in our space. I offered to go regardless, to save the other men on the ship so that they could hopefully transmit for help when they had taken me. The ship's captain, to his credit, absolutely refused. We had mere minutes before my failure to transfer ships would become suspicious.
I asked the captain to rig up a DNA transponder with my blood. In the same way the would-be kidnappers had used the pilots they had killed to assume their identities, I decided to use the same technique. We needed to disable the battleship somewhat urgently. We loaded all of the extra fuel onto the shuttle, rigged its engines to overcapacitate on command, and sent it over. I informed them, through a linked channel, that I was late because I was having navigational difficulties. I would need to be towed into the battleship.
Things went according to our rather hasty plan for a time. They read my transponder, received my transmission, and began to tow me in. However, just as the shuttle was being towed into the bay, the battleship hailed me. It said it didn't detect me aboard. I must have fast-talked better than I ever had before, clearly impressing that I was aboard the ship, and that if they were having difficulty, perhaps we should call for another escort and shuttle.
They relented and drew the shuttle into their bay. Once aboard, we detonated the shuttle remotely. Being inside the hull, the shuttle did heavy damage to the battleship's structure. We took advantage of the surprise to press the attack, but the shock of war soon vanished. We were on our own and we were set upon by the enemy.
The fight took almost twenty minutes, our cruiser suffering heavy damage in the process. Luckily, the transgressors turned out to be Matari terrorists rather than the local terrorists I had become accustomed to. They had learned to fly our ships and spent a great deal of time stealing our codes and protocols, but did not have the finesse of a native laser user. To their credit, even when the battleship was destroyed (soon after the shuttle had crippled it), the destroyers fought on. They nearly had us, and seven of our crew died when the hull took heavy damage. I sustained a burn myself when a relay blew while I was attempting to take over for a dead targetting crewman.
We survived, though. We limped to the nearest station and reported the events. An investigation ensued and I missed the conference. To be honest, I was only thankful to be alive. It reinvigorated my faith, knowing that men like that cruiser crew were ready to die rather than allow me to sacrifice myself first at their expense.
I've had many closer calls as a capsuleer, but none more dangerous than the one which could have ended my journey permanently.
I'm sure you've all been near death or had to overcome overwhelming circumstances and we all love a good story.
I'll pour us all a round of cognac for story time.
(Source with comments: https://forums.eveonline.com/default.aspx?g=posts&m=3569421#post3569421)