Persephone lives by the philosophy of the fifteen Ps: Proper prior planning prevents piss-poor pirate performance, protects Persephone’s pod, provides plunder, and pays for PLEXes.

This seemingly-silly alliterative phrase contains the foundation of her approach to the business of piracy. In order to profit, ISK received has to exceed ISK expended. Recklessness wastes hulls, fittings, ammunition, implants, clone upgrades, and most importantly, time. Economists have a term for the cost of time: opportunity cost. Simply put, it means that while you do one thing, you cannot also do another, so when you choose to to one thing, you are losing the other. In this case, time spent being blown up in an ambush is time not spent out hunting for prey and making money, time fitting new ships to replace the ones discarded foolishly is time not spent out hunting for prey and making money, time moving more hulls and modules and ammunition from the market to lowsec is time not spent out hunting for prey and making money, and so on.

Admittedly, adherence to this philosophy makes Persephone seem like something of a boring stick in the mud when she’s on the prowl. She’s unwilling to take reckless risks or to engage in random PvP fights for their own sake. To Persephone, a thrilling fight is one in which everything goes as planned and results in a ransom payment or a cargo hold full of loot. Defeating other pilots in spaceship battles is a means to an end, not the end itself. In other words, she shoots at spaceships to prove a point about the viability of piracy, not to prove she is the greater spaceship fighter.

Most guides to piracy instruct the would-be pirate to maintain some kind of money-making alt: a mission runner, researcher, market PvPer, macro miner, or the like. They say this is because it is impossible to make a living solely as a pirate, that ISK lost will always exceed ISK earned.

Persephone derives immense satisfaction from the knowledge that every day she’s out there proving this conventional wisdom to be dead wrong.

—————

What principles guide your actions? Do you have a motto, or code of ethics, or (if you’re Caldari, I suppose) a Mission Statement, or even a loose set of guidelines? I’d like to know. How and why do you do the things that you do?

—————
(killmail here)

“Chief, get the fire suppression team ready,” she asked. “I’m coming in on fire. And once you put the fire out, paint a Punisher on the armor plating, please.”

“Roger that, Boss,” replied the chief, springing from his grimy office chair. He’d have to scramble the fire crew in haste.

“Oh, and get my Drake ready for a hot swap,” Persephone added as an afterthought. “I think I see something interesting out here.”

Persephone wouldn’t be able to unplug from her interface and relax just yet– a Dominix on directional scan had aroused her curiosity and she wanted a closer look. She fought to calm her nerves–the fight with the Punisher had been harrowingly close–and get back to work.

15 minutes later:

“Chief, did you get the Tristan put out?” Persephone asked from the same capsule, this time anchored on the bridge of her Drake, cheekily named Lady Shaniqua’s Enyo.

“Yes Ma’am,” the chief replied using his headset. His crew were still working on the battered frigate, cutting away the remains of the all-but-destroyed armor plating and spraying hot spots with coolant. Wrecked internal structure, charred and blackened, lurked in the gaping holes beneath the twisted armor. “It’s a mess, though, she needs a lot of work.”

“Do whatever it takes,” Persephone ordered. “Pew Pew Pew! is special to me. And tell the paint crew to report to the battlecruiser bay instead. They’ll be adding a Dominix silhouette tonight.”

“Aye aye Boss,” replied the chief. “And congratulations.”

“Cheers,” Persephone replied. “Docking now. Out.”

—————

(Tristan vs. Punisher in Frerstorn, followed by Drake vs. Dominix in Evati.)

Persephone kept tabs on who entered and left the star system via the data feed from the stargates, and she saw that Warezmy Carr had just entered the system. Persephone remembered him well. He’d been a recent recruit candidate to The Bastards, but for a number of reasons he had not been considered closely. Instead of returning to wherever it was he had come from after the nascent relationship was severed, though, he’d set up shop in the local constellation and had become something of a fixture in the local population of capsule pilots.

Why does he hang around? Persephone wondered. Maybe he’s doing that monk thing where an aspirant sleeps on the front doorstep of the master until the master takes him in and trains him. Meh.

A new contact from one of her combat scanner probes got her attention– a Loki strategic cruiser had been detected.

Oh please let that be Warezmy, she thought. Acting quickly, Persephone redeployed the other probes into the formation of a tetrahedron around the initial contact to triangulate the position of the half-billion ISK ship. After another scan to finely tune the position of the fix, she had the location down to the meter. Persephone recovered the probes and warped her frigate–still cloaked invisibly–to a landing within a few kilometers of the Loki’s location.

“Hey guys,” Persephone called out on the all-hands channel as her ship crossed the system. “I’ve got a warpable hit on a Loki, checking it out cloaked now. What have we got available?”

“Do we have the firepower to take down a Loki?” asked Naughty Spawn from his hangar.

Persephone chuckled and grinned.

“We dragged down a Loki with four frigates and a destroyer,” Persephone said, remembering a memorable encounter she’d commanded. “They’re not so bad.”

“I’ll stand by in a Vagabond,” Naughty Spawn replied with enthusiasm. In the background, the scramble klaxon was already blaring the call to arms.

“I’ll bring something,” added Raelyf, a Senior Bastard, employing his usual understated confidence. Persephone trusted that something probably meant something horribly devastating. “Let us know when you’re ready,” Raelyf continued.

“Emerging from warp in a moment,” Persephone said as her ship slowed from warp drive and re-emerged into regular space. Before her in space hung the Loki, an angular marvel of ultra-modern engineering, the secrets to its construction pried from the clutching hands of the mysterious Sleepers who inhabited wormhole space. The ship represented the pinnacle of Minmatar starship engineering. Resources had been culled from a hundred star systems and fetched from countless bloody wormhole expeditions into uncharted space to harvest the ultra-rare technology needed to produce it. Armies of researchers had pored over the ancient datacores to reverse-engineer the forgotten techniques which transmogrified ordinary ore into a starship whose peer had not been seen in this region for untold thousands of years.

Of course they had to attack it.

“Confirming the pilot’s Warezmy Carr. He’s totally sitting stationary in a safe spot in a Loki.” Even though as a capsule pilot Persephone was technically immortal, the one thing she despised was having her time wasted, as Warezmy had done when he’d half-heartedly applied to join The Bastards, then applied to a half-dozen other pirate corporations, then changed his mind about the whole mess and simply incorporated his own company.

“We’ve got to get this guy. I’m sitting ten kay-em from the Loki,” Persephone said, running through the combat checklist. Ordinarily a covert-ops frigate would not engage in direct combat, but Persephone was a pirate, and pirates were required to do the unexpected as part of their job. “Undock and warp to Persephone.”

“On my way,” replied Raelyf and Naughty Spawn as one. Raelyf’s ship–another Loki of his own–was the first to arrive, gliding into position twenty kilometers from the target.

“Got point,” Raelyf called out as his ship’s warp disruptor prevented Warezmy from immediately escaping. In the next moment the two tech-three ships were exchanging withering salvoes of autocannon fire and their light drones swarmed around each other both like angry insects, adding their own gunfire to the fracas.

Certain that Warezmy’s attention was fixed on Raelyf’s Loki, Persephone dropped her ship’s cloak and targeted the Loki, adding her own warp disruptor to Raelyf’s. Her frigate’s sole weapon, a Hobgoblin II drone, joined the swarm around their victim, taking potshots at the cruiser. It didn’t do much damage, but every little bit helped.

Warezmy angled his Loki away from Raelyf’s and activated the microwarpdrive, hoping to fly beyond the range of Raelyf’s warp disruptor and so make his escape.

“I’ve lost point,” Raelyf called out, as the sudden change of direction and burst of speed had carried the ship beyond his reach. He heeled his ship through a hard turn, setting in a pursuit course. Nearby, Naughty Spawn’s Vagabond heavy assault cruiser joined the fray and joined the chase.

“Not a problem,” Persephone replied. “I have point. It’s passively targeted so he probably doesn’t even know I’m doing it.”

“That’s pretty damn sneaky,” Raelyf laughed as he pursued Warezmy, autocannon tracer rounds leading the way. Naughty Spawn’s Vagabond, the fastest ship in the dogfight, quickly caught up and then easily overtook the target. Bright orange blooms spread across the Loki’s hull where Naughty Spawn’s autocannon raked it with explosive ammunition, shredding the armor.

“I’ve got point too,” Naughty Spawn added. “He’s going down fast.” The strategic cruiser now trailed fire in its wake and was clearly doomed.

“Cease fire,” Persephone ordered. “Let’s get a ransom.”

Naughty Spawn’s 220 mm autocannon cycled one last time before the chambers emptied, and the Loki exploded in a half-billion ISK fireball.

“Oh,” Naughty said sheepishly. “Oh damn.”

“Eh. It happens,” Persephone said dismissively, making the spoken equivalent of a shrug. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s get the loot and get out of here.” The ship had been precariously close to exploding when she’d made the order, she realized. I guess I should have said something sooner, she thought, making a mental note to do better the next time.

“Good job guys,” she said. “Let’s go celebrate.”

“Hey, wasn’t this guy a recruit?” Raelyf asked as he pointed his ship towards home.

“Yeah, we didn’t like him.” Persephone replied.

“Fair enough.”

(Bastards killboard link)

(Click for 1680×1050 glory)

I’m more of a frigate gal myself, but there is a certain beauty to a fleet of Hurricanes and Drakes moving in unison.

Out of nowhere, I got the inspiration to host some fun for The Bastards (and recruits!) in the near future.

What: TEAM FRIGATE MAYHEM MELEE!
Who: All Bastards or recruits
When: (deleted for security reasons)
Where: (deleted for security reasons)
Why: Because I love hosting these.
How: Read this post!

All Bastards and applicants will fit one of the following frigates in any way they see fit: Atron, Condor, Executioner, or Slasher. The participants will be randomly divided into two teams. The teams will fight it out in a melee for control of the grid at a remote battlefield. All members of the winning team who are on grid at the end of the battle in their still-intact ship will receive the prize of a interceptor hull based on the ship they flew in the melee. Members of the winning team who lost their ship will receive a consolation prize of 1 million ISK.

Eligible ship hulls and fitting: Atron, Condor, Slasher, Executioner. NO CLOAKS, NO ECM MODULES. Other than that, anything goes; fit whatever you want. Just remember that it will probably go -pop- in a horrible ball of fire. (Warp scramblers/disruptors are not required, but are funny.)

Teams will start on opposite sides of the referee’s ship, 25 km away from the referee (50 km from the other team). Ships will be at a standstill with no targets locked. Modules may be active. After the order to begin, the players may engage and destroy the ships of the other team at will. No entrant is to go more than 150 km from the referee’s ship. Any ship which exceeds this distance, no matter how briefly, will be immediately disqualified. This includes warping away from the grid.

Time limit: The winning team must hold the grid alone before 5 minutes have elapsed. If this has not been done at the 5 minute mark, then the winning team will be the team with more intact and manned ships on the grid.

Important: to win an interceptor hull you must be (1) A member of the winning team (2) on grid at the end of the melee (3) still in the ship in which you began the melee and (4) not have been disqualified for exceeding 150 km from the referee’s ship. This will be strictly enforced.

Winner’s interceptor choice: If you flew an Atron you may choose from an Ares or Taranis. If you flew a Condor you may choose from a Crow or Raptor. If you flew an Executioner you may choose from a Crusader or Malediction. If you flew a Slasher you may choose from a Claw or Stiletto. Prize ships will be delivered by contract after the next corp freighter run.

Because I am donating all prizes and organizing this myself, I reserve the right to be a meanie and say “no,” when you beg for five more minutes to fit up a ship while the rest of us wait for you. Be prepared! Proper Prior Planning Prevents Piss-Poor Performance, Pirate!

Sometimes the two-ships-in-one-hangar view bug produces amusing results. To me it looks like a very protective mama Harpy is sheltering a little Ares under her wings. The only thing missing is for someone to draw in cute little n.n eyes behind the two ships’ beaks.

I toyed with the idea of writing a short story in which some junior docking bay worker got the bright idea to save space in the hangar by stacking ships like Tetris pieces, but I just couldn’t find a way to make it funny. You’ll just have to use your imagination on this one.

What do you think is happening in this photo?

(Click to view full 1680×1050 pixel image)

If you wish to have it, this pic is available for download in a number of widescreen sizes, including one for netbooks:

1440×900 version here
1280×800 version here
1024×600 version here

A number of people have requested the ship fit for The Mach 5, so here it is:

I deliberately kept this fit a secret until after the race, but now it can be told. Honestly, it’s not a very complicated or clever fit. My goal was to spend as little time at sub-warp speed as possible by aligning very quickly, and then to burn across warp space as quickly as possible. I could have used T2 hyperspatial velocity rigs, but I didn’t want to spend the extra ISK. It hit 19.44 AU per second with T1 rigs, and that sufficed. In the middle third of the race I passed most of the lead pack while in warp, not at stargates.

I toyed with the idea of fitting four inertia stabilizers and no warp core stabilizer, but the decreased effectiveness of a fourth identical module made it not worthwhile.

The modules in the midslots are for camp survival. The MWD is to burn away from bubbles, AB is fitted in case someone actually lands a warp scrambler on me, and the ECM burst is the last-ditch emergency GTFO device. Fortunately, the AB and ECM burst were not needed on Sunday, but the MWD certainly was.

There is nothing at all fitted in the high slots, because I wanted to keep the ship’s mass to a minimum.

Now that I have shared this fit, I’m discarding it. For the next Death Race, I’m going to do something completely different. After all, as the defending champion I’ll have an enormous target painted on my back! Perhaps I’ll fly a triple-Trimarked Megathron with five 1600mm rolled tungsten plates. . .

Voice only? Artemis Fortune thought, pressing PAUSE on the holovid’s remote control. Persephone, she learned, had an extensive collection of buddy-action-adventure holovids. While the humor mostly went past her more straight-laced sensibilities, action stories still thrilled her.

“Put her on, Raphael.” Artemis uncrossed her legs and sat up, setting the half-eaten bowl of salty algae munchies on the transparent acrylic coffee table.

“Artemis!” Persephone shouted over the line. Her voice had the clipped and electronic buzz of a synthesizer, since she could not speak aloud while suspended in her ship’s hydrostatic capsule. The neural interface skimmed her thoughts and translated them into electronic audio. Even though the voice was artificial, the excitement was genuine.

Synth voice, Artemis thought. She must still be in her capsule. Why would she call me from there?

“Persephone!” Artemis replied, deliberately mimicking Persephone’s excitement.

“Artemis!” Persephone repeated.

“Persephone!” Artemis echoed once more, wondering where this was leading.

“Artemis!” Persephone shouted yet again.

“Persephone!” Artemis said, making an elaborate display of patience. Persephone was clearly doing some kind of silly thing, and she could only wait her out. “What’s got you so excited? How’s the race?”

“I’m in the lead!” Persephone gasped from halfway across known space, as her racing-fitted Ares interceptor made a blur of null-sec space. Her voice had the usual strained urgency of a combat pilot, but this time it was overlaid with exultation. “Two jumps from the finish, and there’s no-one on D-scan behind me. I’m out in front– just empty space and stars! There’s no feeling like it!”

The connection crackled briefly, which told Artemis that Persephone had used an interstellar stargate. It was taken for granted that the comms network could maintain a connection even though one party had just moved several light years in a fraction of a second.

“This is it, final system, and there’s nobody on scan!” Persephone continued. “The way is clear!”

“Unbelievable!” Artemis cheered, feeling a bit odd about talking to Persephone at a moment like this one. “Still, maybe you should call me back once you’ve won?”

“It’s okay, I’ve got this,” Persephone replied. “It’s a snap compared to combat flying. I can talk and do this–landing on the out gate now–at the same time.”

Artemis held her breath. The audio crackled again.

“FIRST!” Persephone cheered. “Oh God oh God oh God oh God oh God oh God oh God–”

“Way to go!” Artemis whooped, hopping to her feet.

“Oh God oh God,” Persephone finished, winding down from her exuberance. “Okay, I’ve gotta dock up now.” Persephone suddenly sounded much more business-like, as she temporarily bottled up her emotions until she was safe. “That was really cool, but I’m still an outlaw, you know. It would be dumb if I got ganked while I was jerking around at the finish line.”

“Oh definitely,” Artemis agreed. “Stay safe.”

“Headed for the undock–It’s going crazy here now,” Persephone replied, catching her breath. “Everyone’s talking at once; very exciting. I’ll call back in a little bit okay?”

“Okay,” Artemis smiled. This was better than any holovid. “Congratulations hon.”

“Love you!”

“!” Artemis squeaked involuntarily, putting her hand over her mouth.

The call disconnected.

I’m going to go have a nervous breakdown now. Full post to follow tonight or perhaps tomorrow.