Friday, 27 July 2012

Corruption In The Heath - Chapter 1

A smoky haze fills the room. The stench of years worth of cigarettes seeps from every wall, but it doesn't bother me, it smells like home. A low murmuring can be heard from the far side of the room, three men talking, the sound of conversation interrupted only occasionally by the thud of a half-empty beer glass against the table.
“Another beer, Al!” One of the men pipes up. I pour him a new drink before retaking my lone seat in the corner, pressed against the wood-panelling of the walls. An odd material to be used on a star-base, but I like it. In front of me lies a pile of newspaper clippings. There has been no shortage of news lately concerning the state of the Molden Heath region. Rampant piracy, stargate blockades, indiscriminate slaughter of innocents, illegal drug manufacture and trafficking, you name it.

But information on who is actually involved or even running these operations is shady at best. Rumours within rumours within rumours. Some things are clear though. All the evidence seems to suggest there are two main organisations running this system of fear and destruction.
A corporation called RANSM appears to be the primary source of evil in this cesspool of crime. I've no idea what the acronym RANSM stands for, but I'm not really sure I want to know, these underworld types tend to have the foulest sense of humour.

Perhaps the most information I have gleaned concerns RANSM's supposed leader, Sard Caid. Due to his shameless pursuit of fame and recognition, a decently detailed picture can be drawn of this man's personality. As long as you get past the media front that is. Featured in magazines, given honourable mention during Alliance Tournament coverage, invited by several high-profile capsuleer training organisations to give guest lectures. This is a man who has built such a wall of false publicity and high-profile business contacts around himself, you invite public disgrace upon yourself to even attempt to warn people of his true nature.

He has even gone so far as to run his own regular TV show. In it he portrays himself as some sort of lone knight hero, roaming the skies of zero security space, fighting the “good fight” against cut-throat bands of mercenaries and lawless thugs. But the truth is far more sinister. A thug from the very beginning, when most people sneered and dismissed Molden Heath as some backwater mining region, Sard Caid saw it's potential as a criminal's paradise. Reports say that for a long time he operated mostly alone. Yet these days those few scarred humans who manage to return from the region alive whisper that he has taken a whole gang of violent thugs under his wing, although details of the individual members of this gang are almost non-existent.

One member of this group who gets at least some mention in the press is a man who goes by the initials D.P. However he has not been seen or made mention of for some months now, leading some (myself included) to wonder if perhaps Sard Caid has had him bumped off because he started to view this D.P as a threat to his power or popularity among the press. We may never know for sure.

The sound of chair legs scraping against wood draws my attention back to my surroundings. The three men having a beer have become two, and the two are now leaving. I hurry over and open the door for them.
“You both have a good night.” I say.
“Night? Al, it's two in the morning already.” The taller man says, I think his name is Geoff.
I peer through the smoke at the clock on the wall. “Oh yes, so it is.”
“Hah! Take care of yourself man, get some sleep.”
“Will do!” I call out as they head for the station's shuttle bay.
But I have no intention of sleeping tonight. I close the door and return to my desk.


While written in the first person, the protagonist of this story is not me personally.

Shamelessly inspired by Miura Bull's wonderful blog ( However this is by no means meant as a copy of what he does. This is planned to go in a fairly different direction to most other EVE blogs.


  1. I had coffee take care of him.

    1. The coffee-chugging murderer. Somehow I'm not surprised :D