“...which part of ‘best speed’ is so hard to understand?”, grumbled the FC over intercom.
A few hasty commands, and the engines of my Tristan went to full power, accelerating the ship to warp speed, along with the remains of the fleet.
I was out with the Basic PvP class from Agony Unleashed, flying along through 0.0 in a gang of 80 frigates, and we had for company even such luminaries as Dread Pirate Wensley. Not that I see myself turning into a combat pilot any time soon, but having the knowledge could only be advantageous - especially next time a PvP corp decides to wardec us. Know thy enemy, and all that.
The theoretical part was relatively easy - you can’t be a successful industrialist without knowing a thing or two about the scanner or tactical bookmarks - but as soon as it came to fitting ones ships, any familiarity evaporated. And then the roam began in earnest...
The mechanics of flying from gate to gate weren’t the problem - it was all the other little habits and experience we nublets were missing, like returning to a gate orbit after an engagement, to be ready to jump, or keeping a mental image of the fleet’s operation in order to anticipate the FC’s next commands.
Which brought us to the situation we now were in, with half the fleet racing towards the last reported location of a Loki, while the other half (myself included) literally hadn’t gotten the memo and was now trying to catch up.
As we were speeding through systems, for a moment I thought I saw a familiar name showing up in Local - but we were after a Loki, and keeping up with the fleet took my full attention, so I dismissed it. Sadly, the Loki escaped us, and after a break the fleet ambled back, looking for new targets.
And the name showed up in Local again - I couldn’t believe my eyes. A friend of mine was flying in the class as well, so I gave her a nudge over comms:
“Hey, look at who’s in Local. Look at the Broadsword pilot.”
“Who... No Way! Him!?”
“Yes, him. What do you think - can we bribe the FC to engage him?”
We didn’t need to worry - after not getting a hit on the Loki before, our fleet was lusting for blood. The Broadsword pilot was no easy target - after seeing a fleet of 40 frigates arrive at the gate he was holding, he smartly avoided a fight and jumped through the gate. Unfortunately for him, our other 40 frigates were waiting for him on the other side, and his end came quickly.
We weren’t done with the roam yet, of course, and my little Tristan would manage to get on a few more kills that night, including the final blow on a mighty Armageddon , but I couldn’t help sharing the news with the Alliance right away.
“Guys, you surely remember the corp who had wardecced us last month,”
“The griefers? Yes, what about them?”
“We just came across their CEO ... Bwahahahahaha!”