The past week has probably been the hardest of my tenure with the team. After Race 1, our PR office exploded with accusations from angry University of Caille students claiming that we were responsible for the loss of Quintrala's famous racing frigate, A Wing and a Prayer. An Amarr militia pilot destroyed the ship. We have Amarr militia pilots on our roster and a less-than-pleasant history with the university as a team. Conspiracy theories. What could I do?
I sent the university administration some of our flight recordings, hoping that we could put things to rest. No amount of evidence really satisfies conspiracy theorists, though, so all we could do is publicly offer to replace the hardware as a friendly gesture. At present, neither the university propulsion lab nor Quintrala have taken us up on the offer. A couple of Venture Racing supporters apparently fanned the flames by hopping a transport and setting up camp outside the ship's old hangar. I don't necessarily approve of antagonizing angry mobs, but I must admit that I appreciate the show of solidarity from our fans. Needless to say, we've quietly sent them some very special gifts to say thanks.
The rest of the week was relatively uneventful. I made a long overdue call to my family on Gallente Prime. Mom was thrilled to hear from me, and aside from the usual pleasantries, she was most interested in when I'd be visiting home again. She was so happy when I brought a nice girl home to visit last time, and I haven't been back since then because I have this nagging feeling that she'll be disappointed if I show up alone. Perhaps I'll manage to find some time soon.
As far as preparing for the race, i thought everything was coming along smoothly. I had no idea that our smooth operations would prove to be a major fiasco after the race. When I first took over the corporation, I started looking through archives and sizing up the competition. We've got a lot of race footage, notes, and commentary that had been collecting dust in storage for quite some time; it has proven a rather useful resource for rebuilding the team. Certain things had struck me as odd from the beginning, as if some pilots had an uncanny intuition that seemed a statistical impossibility. Throughout most of Season 1.0, I couldn't put my finger on it.
After last season's race in Solitude, an idea hit me like a bolt of lightning. As Saikoyu was traveling to the starting line, she mentioned that she had spotted one of the waypoints near a gate in Gonditsa. We talked about bookmarking it for use in the race. Later, it dawned on me that those instances of uncanny intuition could be explained: Other pilots had prior knowledge of the track. To what extent, I could only guess. The entire idea was speculative, as there's no way I could prove it, but it made sense of things that didn't seem right otherwise. At the time, I filed it away in the back of my mind. After all, other racers have been known to set up spare ships, and it stands to reason that maybe they had come across some waypoints along the way.
I revisited that thought for the final race of Season 1.0. Everything was on the line. I wanted to give the team an edge, and that "uncanny intuition" came to mind. I wasn't satisfied with a half-hearted effort, though. I was ready to go all out. I asked Gyra if this violated any rules or standing judgments. I wanted to play by the rules, but I was willing to put in more prep time than most pilots would consider reasonable. I got the green light, and I went to work. For Race 12, two of my teammates and I had located every waypoint. We knew the track in its entirety, and we'd be able to bypass several approaches.
Because I had calculated that others had already done something similar on a more limited scale, I didn't feel the need to publicize it. If anyone asked, we'd be forthright about it, but for all I knew, it wasn't really my idea in the first place. After our finish in Race 12, I decided that I would carry over the playbook to Season 2.0, refine my procedure, and do all the work myself, if possible. Race 1 was a smashing success. We kicked off with a sweep, just like last season, and we didn't have to rely on someone else's penalty to get it. Our newest team member, Metrius, treated me like a hero for all the effort I had put in. I felt good. Everything was great. Surely, our rivals had noticed what we were doing by now, and their silence only validated that I was right all along; they had done something similar in the past.
Race 2 was a more difficult recon. It took me over 10 hours in a 2-day period to find all the waypoints. I was excited to know that we'd have six pilots, including me, at the starting line--two per class, all of us with my precious navigation data in hand. I was going to be Takashi's wingman. Aside from the shakedown after I built her, this was the first time I'd ever flown my interceptor, an Ares named Nightshade. I kept thinking that it should be Elsebeth in my place. She had been Takashi's wingmate through Seasons 4 and 5, and if not for the unfortunate realities of politics, she might be his wingmate again; instead, we'd fly against her. I belonged in the back with the slow boats, yet my duty to the team compelled me to fly where I was needed most.
We were ready early. We registered well ahead of schedule. The checklist was done. I gave a few pointers on the track layout based on my visual inspection. Regardless of where I finished--Takashi had victory covered, I was sure--I felt like I mattered, like I had a genuinely necessary place with the team. These recon operations had made me feel like more than a glorified accountant.
Everything was about to come crashing down.
I remember seeing Takashi's fleet link go dead, but don't quite recall where we were at the time. Until then, we were running smoothly. Fast. Silent. The Venture precision machine. Then we were headless. This wasn't the first time we'd found ourselves flailing around without our leader. Last season, technical problems left Neon on point. He did a great job out front. Today, however, it fell to me, and I panicked. I took command of the fleet at the wrong moment, delaying my next jump by 20 seconds. I spent the rest of the race fighting frantically for the lead, but it wasn't enough to win. All my prep work kept me in the fight, no doubt, but no amount of prior planning can make a pilot a genuine ace. I finished in second place, earning us enough points to hold the team in a tie for first place in the class. Not spectacular, but it was enough to hold things together for the next race.
I flushed my pod, took a quick shower, and donned a smile for the fans. What greeted me when I met the public was not the usual barrage of questions for which I had canned answers. The frenzied press was waiting for me rather than being congregated around the winner, and they all had variations of the same question: "Mr. Ellis, is it true that you've been cheating?"
Cheating? Are they serious?
I honestly had no idea what they were talking about until one shouted, "Did you have prior knowledge of the track?" I relaxed. Nothing was wrong. That's not cheating. Someone is simply confused, and this will all be cleared up momentarily. I answered honestly, "Yes, we've been conducting recon prior to the past several races with the full knowledge and consent of the league." I thought they were frenzied when I first saw them, but the noise from the press and the crowd exploded into an overwhelming roar. Apparently, people wanted my head, and I had just validated their hostility.
The league almost immediately issued a ban on continuing this practice, and the team has gone into damage control mode. I've never had a public relations nightmare like this, and I don't think the storm is going to blow over quickly. I can only keep telling myself that doing right by the team is worth the consequences. As hard as it will be to move forward in a hostile environment, I know that I didn't do anything wrong. I made every effort to play it straight, by the book. That's the Venture tradition. I keep asking myself a question of conscience: If I had the chance to do it over again, would I? Hard as it is for me to say so, knowing now how offensive it is to our opponents, the answer is yes. My duty is to my team's success, not to my own image or comfort.
14 November 2011
06 November 2011
Season 2.0, Race 1 (The Bleak Lands)
After the thrill of our impressive finishes in every class last season had faded, I found myself spending a lot of time thinking about participating in more races. I finally came to a decision earlier this week that I would race as often as possible, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to go for the title in a single class or participate based on the team's needs in any given race. I wrestled with the temptation of personal glory briefly, then settled on racing for the team rather than my own aggrandizement.
I went down to Aunia to survey the small fleet held over from my predecessor's tenure. The Hangman's Noose had carried me through Races 10-12 last season as a matter of necessity, yet something gnawed at my conscience to leave these relics in peace this time around. These ships had their place in the team's history along with their original captain. Perhaps my vanity has gotten the best of me, but I'd like to write my own chapter in that history with my own pen.
Because I was unsure which class I'd enter for Race 1, I commissioned three ships: an Ares, an Enyo, and a Federation Navy Comet. I spent hours with team engineers trying to balance warp speed, agility, and sub-warp speed. We considered the defensive implication of utilizing dual propulsion, and we tried to fit as much firepower as possible to respond to competitors that prefer guns to engines. As the ground crew set about making the modifications, I returned home to Fricoure and took a tour of the Victory.
In the shipboard racing museum, I listened to Kendar Zek's holographic image talk about the Neophyte, the only rookie-ship to ever enter a race. The ship predates the team by one season, but I think it reflects a part of the Venture spirit that is sometimes lost in the daily corporate routine. I'd love to do something daring, even crazy, like flying a rookie-ship for a race. Perhaps I'll have occasion this season to cast off restraint and fly like I just don't give a damn about winning or losing.
The night before the race, I went out in the Watcher on a sight-seeing tour. I had seven pilots on the roster, including myself. I knew Esna would be absent. I was relatively certain that Takashi and Saikoyu would show up. I would have liked to field two pilots per class, and although I thought it was highly probable that Neon would be at the starting line, I couldn't afford to play wingman in another class when I needed to be sure we had a frigate entry. After docking up, I jump-cloned over to Aunia and finished race prep on the Phantom, my Navy Comet, then set a course for The Bleak Lands. I finally caught some sleep around 07:30.
I woke up around 12:50. Gyra would be along shortly to announce the precise starting location. Of course, prior to leaving Aunia, I had asked a locator to find Gyra for me, assuming she was already docked at the starting line. This paid off nicely, as I didn't have to travel immediately before the race. I took a leisurely stroll down to the hangar, met with a few sports reporters who all asked the usual questions, then started going over my pre-flight checklist. A fellow named Metrius had joined the league chatter and was looking for a team, so I managed to do some last-minute recruiting prior to the race, too.
Bringing a new pilot up to speed on team operations that the veterans know by heart is challenging in itself. Doing it with about 30 minutes until go time is outright nerve-wracking. In the rush to get through all the important information, I forgot to register the team for the race. Saikoyu reminded me, and I quickly sent the relevant information and fees to Gyra. At this point, I also realized that we were holding the start for Quintrala to come out of retirement and get to the starting line. I recall thinking that this would certainly be a race to remember.
The beginning of the race was a blur. A blob of fourteen racers took off toward Huola, where we found three waypoints at the first stop. There had been some off-season debate about front-loading multi-waypoints to break up warp trains, and it seems Gyra followed that plan. Fortunately for us, we weren't relying on a warp train anyway, so this didn't really gum up our plans. The next stop in Amamake, however, definitely did.
Five waypoints in one location. Five waypionts and one hostile Hurricane, that is. My shields took a serious knock, and the autocannons were relentless. I completely forgot that I had ECM drones to deploy, and in the chaos, I chose to bug out rather than lose the ship. Others weren't so lucky. Quintrala lost her famous Executioner, A Wing and a Prayer, and the bogeys managed to destroy her capsule, too. After tagging four of the five waypoints, Saikoyu's ship was lost, too.
Fortunately, Takashi had made it through the fray. Knowing that Gyra would set a 5-minute timer and declare the waypoint optional if it remained camped, those of us that had scattered at Amamake elected to get back on course and head for the next waypoint. In the unlikely event that Amamake did not become optional, we'd simply have to backtrack. We burned hard for Arzad, where another four waypoints were waiting. Oyonata had the final three, and then we proceeded without incident to the finish line in Gammel.
Neon and I were running fairly close to each other on the back stretch; I held a marginal lead. I had some unexpected engine trouble as I entered Gammel, however, and he was able to overtake me at the end. Of course, this works out for the best because I plan to switch classes as needed this season, so my teammates who are dedicated to their classes need the individual points more than I do. Had this affected our team standings, though, I might've had to fire a mechanic after the race.
Saikoyu had procured a replacement ship and would have to limp to the finish for lack of a microwarp drive. I was really hoping she'd still pull off a win. I thought Lyn Farel was also racing in the same class, so I watched for her at the finish line. As it turned out, Saikoyu was in a class all her own, as she said after the race. I'm really proud of her for going the distance despite the setback. I've offered to cover the replacement cost for her ship and fittings.
We put five racers on the track for Race 1. Every one of us finished on the podium. Barring any penalties in the official results, we swept first place in every class, and we took all three of the top spots in the frigate class. Quite literally, I couldn't have hoped for a better finish. The challenge, of course, is to keep the momentum going. After the race, I learned that Elsebeth Rhiannon will be returning to the sport with one of this season's new teams. We'll have to stay on top of our game to compete with one of our own.
I went down to Aunia to survey the small fleet held over from my predecessor's tenure. The Hangman's Noose had carried me through Races 10-12 last season as a matter of necessity, yet something gnawed at my conscience to leave these relics in peace this time around. These ships had their place in the team's history along with their original captain. Perhaps my vanity has gotten the best of me, but I'd like to write my own chapter in that history with my own pen.
Because I was unsure which class I'd enter for Race 1, I commissioned three ships: an Ares, an Enyo, and a Federation Navy Comet. I spent hours with team engineers trying to balance warp speed, agility, and sub-warp speed. We considered the defensive implication of utilizing dual propulsion, and we tried to fit as much firepower as possible to respond to competitors that prefer guns to engines. As the ground crew set about making the modifications, I returned home to Fricoure and took a tour of the Victory.
In the shipboard racing museum, I listened to Kendar Zek's holographic image talk about the Neophyte, the only rookie-ship to ever enter a race. The ship predates the team by one season, but I think it reflects a part of the Venture spirit that is sometimes lost in the daily corporate routine. I'd love to do something daring, even crazy, like flying a rookie-ship for a race. Perhaps I'll have occasion this season to cast off restraint and fly like I just don't give a damn about winning or losing.
The night before the race, I went out in the Watcher on a sight-seeing tour. I had seven pilots on the roster, including myself. I knew Esna would be absent. I was relatively certain that Takashi and Saikoyu would show up. I would have liked to field two pilots per class, and although I thought it was highly probable that Neon would be at the starting line, I couldn't afford to play wingman in another class when I needed to be sure we had a frigate entry. After docking up, I jump-cloned over to Aunia and finished race prep on the Phantom, my Navy Comet, then set a course for The Bleak Lands. I finally caught some sleep around 07:30.
I woke up around 12:50. Gyra would be along shortly to announce the precise starting location. Of course, prior to leaving Aunia, I had asked a locator to find Gyra for me, assuming she was already docked at the starting line. This paid off nicely, as I didn't have to travel immediately before the race. I took a leisurely stroll down to the hangar, met with a few sports reporters who all asked the usual questions, then started going over my pre-flight checklist. A fellow named Metrius had joined the league chatter and was looking for a team, so I managed to do some last-minute recruiting prior to the race, too.
Bringing a new pilot up to speed on team operations that the veterans know by heart is challenging in itself. Doing it with about 30 minutes until go time is outright nerve-wracking. In the rush to get through all the important information, I forgot to register the team for the race. Saikoyu reminded me, and I quickly sent the relevant information and fees to Gyra. At this point, I also realized that we were holding the start for Quintrala to come out of retirement and get to the starting line. I recall thinking that this would certainly be a race to remember.
The beginning of the race was a blur. A blob of fourteen racers took off toward Huola, where we found three waypoints at the first stop. There had been some off-season debate about front-loading multi-waypoints to break up warp trains, and it seems Gyra followed that plan. Fortunately for us, we weren't relying on a warp train anyway, so this didn't really gum up our plans. The next stop in Amamake, however, definitely did.
Five waypoints in one location. Five waypionts and one hostile Hurricane, that is. My shields took a serious knock, and the autocannons were relentless. I completely forgot that I had ECM drones to deploy, and in the chaos, I chose to bug out rather than lose the ship. Others weren't so lucky. Quintrala lost her famous Executioner, A Wing and a Prayer, and the bogeys managed to destroy her capsule, too. After tagging four of the five waypoints, Saikoyu's ship was lost, too.
Fortunately, Takashi had made it through the fray. Knowing that Gyra would set a 5-minute timer and declare the waypoint optional if it remained camped, those of us that had scattered at Amamake elected to get back on course and head for the next waypoint. In the unlikely event that Amamake did not become optional, we'd simply have to backtrack. We burned hard for Arzad, where another four waypoints were waiting. Oyonata had the final three, and then we proceeded without incident to the finish line in Gammel.
Neon and I were running fairly close to each other on the back stretch; I held a marginal lead. I had some unexpected engine trouble as I entered Gammel, however, and he was able to overtake me at the end. Of course, this works out for the best because I plan to switch classes as needed this season, so my teammates who are dedicated to their classes need the individual points more than I do. Had this affected our team standings, though, I might've had to fire a mechanic after the race.
Saikoyu had procured a replacement ship and would have to limp to the finish for lack of a microwarp drive. I was really hoping she'd still pull off a win. I thought Lyn Farel was also racing in the same class, so I watched for her at the finish line. As it turned out, Saikoyu was in a class all her own, as she said after the race. I'm really proud of her for going the distance despite the setback. I've offered to cover the replacement cost for her ship and fittings.
We put five racers on the track for Race 1. Every one of us finished on the podium. Barring any penalties in the official results, we swept first place in every class, and we took all three of the top spots in the frigate class. Quite literally, I couldn't have hoped for a better finish. The challenge, of course, is to keep the momentum going. After the race, I learned that Elsebeth Rhiannon will be returning to the sport with one of this season's new teams. We'll have to stay on top of our game to compete with one of our own.
05 September 2011
Into the Fray
The season has been atypical for Venture. We're fighting for points in the interceptor class, and we seem to have a revolving door for frigate pilots. Thanks largely to Saikoyu's consistent performance, we were holding a 33-point lead in the assault ship class prior to Race 10. When I received news that she would be unable to attend the event in Everyshore, my heart sank. Her individual lead over Nicoletta Mithra would nearly evaporate, and if no one stepped up to put some points on the board for the team, I'd have a hard time explaining how we blew a significant team lead so close to the end of the season. Koronakesh likes to say that the "spin mill never stops" at Venture, but there are some things that even I can't obfuscate with smoke and mirrors.
I started weighing my options, even though I knew I really only had one. I wasn't likely to catch Koronakesh prior to the race, so I wasn't sure if he'd be available. Our newest recruit, Ilsenae, is currently unable to participate due to schedule conflicts, and I doubt she's qualified to pilot an assault ship, given that she only recently earned her pilot's license. Graelyn is working hard in the interceptor class, and it wouldn't be fair to him if I asked him to switch classes. I went down to the station's medical facility to inquire about clone-jumping, a procedure that I've never actually employed, but it seemed the fastest way to get home. I had a feeling it was going to be a long night.
I woke up shortly afterward somewhat disoriented, and I didn't feel quite like myself due to a different set of implants. In retrospect, it might have been faster to simply fly back to Fricoure rather than waiting for the staff to clear me for flight after the jump, but the secondary body is expendable, whereas the primary me is not. As it happens, I had ordered a refit of one of Kendar Zek's old ships roughly two weeks ago. I didn't seriously expect to ever race her, so I hadn't taken any time to practice. There I stood, staring up at the Hangman's Noose with her pristine finish, thinking that I was about to desecrate a team relic by taking her back out on the track and putting her in harm's way. I went aboard for only the second time since I acquired her to inspect her critical systems before heading out to Everyshore.
The ship handled well on my flight out to the staging area. I caught a brief nap and woke up shortly before the starting system was announced. Fortunately, I was only two jumps out. A few sports reporters from various media outlets had done their homework already and noticed the last minute roster change filed with the league. I had barely debarked when they started asking questions. Not wanting to draw attention to the fact that Saikoyu wouldn't be there, I told them we had a comfortable lead in the class, making this a great opportunity to get my feet wet and have fun. The unintended advantage to racing turned out to be the freedom to dismiss tough questions about our interceptor rivalry with Dirtside with a smile and a reminder that I had to focus on my pre-flight inspections. The media has never been quite so easy on me.
I settled into my pod about ten minutes prior to the start of the race. I kept telling myself that I only needed to finish in order to maintain a significant lead for the team, but nothing seemed to untie the knots in my stomach. What if I lose Kendar's boat? The question played over and over in my mind, and I hardly noticed the station crew trying to catch my attention for towing from the docking platform to the launch area.
"Captain Ellis, towing tractor engaged. Clear to release platform moorings."
Five minutes to go time.
"Captain Ellis, please release moorings."
I floated there idly, my mind wandering, completely oblivious to what was going on. Aura finally woke me up from my daydreaming when one of the tugs decided to give my ship a little jerk with the moorings still engaged. There's nothing quite like klaxons in the morning.
"Captain Ellis . . ."
"Roger that. Magnetic moorings disengaged."
"Everything okay over there, Captain?"
"Everything's fine over here. Do try to be gentle. I'd hate to mar the finish before the race even starts."
I distinctly recall the countdown, but most of the race is a blur. I really don't know how people manage to chatter so much during a race. I had to stay quite focused on what I was doing: Warp. Jump. Warp. Approach. Unlock. Align. Set waypoint. Warp. Jump. Rinse. Repeat. I was holding my own for a while, but I ended up lagging behind before the halfway point and found myself drifting alone in the rear. Serpentis ships paid me a visit at a couple waypoints. I returned fire against some of the smaller ships, but the larger ones didn't warrant my attention; they couldn't hit the broad side of a barn at point blank range. I reminded myself repeatedly that the goal was to finish in one piece. At the last waypoint, another capsuleer decided to lock my ship; however, I was gone before I even noticed who it was or what he was flying.
In the end, I finished 4m 9s behind Nicoletta. I could say that second place in a two-person race isn't particularly glorious, but I do believe it's the first time any of our late co-founder's ships has finished in the top three. I'll take whatever small victories I can get any way that I can get them. Venture holds a 28-point lead over Scuderia Caille, so I can't complain.
After the race, I ran into Altantsetseg Naranbaatar at the Daredevil's Lounge. She's unique, and our brief chat may very well have been the highlight of the day. I look forward to seeing her around.
I started weighing my options, even though I knew I really only had one. I wasn't likely to catch Koronakesh prior to the race, so I wasn't sure if he'd be available. Our newest recruit, Ilsenae, is currently unable to participate due to schedule conflicts, and I doubt she's qualified to pilot an assault ship, given that she only recently earned her pilot's license. Graelyn is working hard in the interceptor class, and it wouldn't be fair to him if I asked him to switch classes. I went down to the station's medical facility to inquire about clone-jumping, a procedure that I've never actually employed, but it seemed the fastest way to get home. I had a feeling it was going to be a long night.
I woke up shortly afterward somewhat disoriented, and I didn't feel quite like myself due to a different set of implants. In retrospect, it might have been faster to simply fly back to Fricoure rather than waiting for the staff to clear me for flight after the jump, but the secondary body is expendable, whereas the primary me is not. As it happens, I had ordered a refit of one of Kendar Zek's old ships roughly two weeks ago. I didn't seriously expect to ever race her, so I hadn't taken any time to practice. There I stood, staring up at the Hangman's Noose with her pristine finish, thinking that I was about to desecrate a team relic by taking her back out on the track and putting her in harm's way. I went aboard for only the second time since I acquired her to inspect her critical systems before heading out to Everyshore.
The ship handled well on my flight out to the staging area. I caught a brief nap and woke up shortly before the starting system was announced. Fortunately, I was only two jumps out. A few sports reporters from various media outlets had done their homework already and noticed the last minute roster change filed with the league. I had barely debarked when they started asking questions. Not wanting to draw attention to the fact that Saikoyu wouldn't be there, I told them we had a comfortable lead in the class, making this a great opportunity to get my feet wet and have fun. The unintended advantage to racing turned out to be the freedom to dismiss tough questions about our interceptor rivalry with Dirtside with a smile and a reminder that I had to focus on my pre-flight inspections. The media has never been quite so easy on me.
I settled into my pod about ten minutes prior to the start of the race. I kept telling myself that I only needed to finish in order to maintain a significant lead for the team, but nothing seemed to untie the knots in my stomach. What if I lose Kendar's boat? The question played over and over in my mind, and I hardly noticed the station crew trying to catch my attention for towing from the docking platform to the launch area.
"Captain Ellis, towing tractor engaged. Clear to release platform moorings."
Five minutes to go time.
"Captain Ellis, please release moorings."
I floated there idly, my mind wandering, completely oblivious to what was going on. Aura finally woke me up from my daydreaming when one of the tugs decided to give my ship a little jerk with the moorings still engaged. There's nothing quite like klaxons in the morning.
"Captain Ellis . . ."
"Roger that. Magnetic moorings disengaged."
"Everything okay over there, Captain?"
"Everything's fine over here. Do try to be gentle. I'd hate to mar the finish before the race even starts."
I distinctly recall the countdown, but most of the race is a blur. I really don't know how people manage to chatter so much during a race. I had to stay quite focused on what I was doing: Warp. Jump. Warp. Approach. Unlock. Align. Set waypoint. Warp. Jump. Rinse. Repeat. I was holding my own for a while, but I ended up lagging behind before the halfway point and found myself drifting alone in the rear. Serpentis ships paid me a visit at a couple waypoints. I returned fire against some of the smaller ships, but the larger ones didn't warrant my attention; they couldn't hit the broad side of a barn at point blank range. I reminded myself repeatedly that the goal was to finish in one piece. At the last waypoint, another capsuleer decided to lock my ship; however, I was gone before I even noticed who it was or what he was flying.
In the end, I finished 4m 9s behind Nicoletta. I could say that second place in a two-person race isn't particularly glorious, but I do believe it's the first time any of our late co-founder's ships has finished in the top three. I'll take whatever small victories I can get any way that I can get them. Venture holds a 28-point lead over Scuderia Caille, so I can't complain.
After the race, I ran into Altantsetseg Naranbaatar at the Daredevil's Lounge. She's unique, and our brief chat may very well have been the highlight of the day. I look forward to seeing her around.
17 August 2011
Bumps in the Road
I remember a time when life was easy. Sometimes I think about moving back home to Gallente Prime and living out the rest of my days much the same as my youth, pampered and privileged. My personal life and business affairs have suffered several nasty setbacks recently, which is precisely why I haven't made the time to say much about it for quite some time. Five regular season races and two exhibition events have come and gone, and I find myself struggling to keep my spirits up.
My parents continue to pressure me to start a family of my own, and most days I feel that I'm letting them down, thanks to my dismal luck with the fairer sex. After a brief diversion in a modeling contest, I found myself rather enchanted by a young lady I met during the competition. We shared a few laughs, and she even visited the family estate with me for about a week. Mom absolutely adored her and missed no opportunity to remind me to treat her properly. Despite my best efforts, however, we parted company at the end of that week and haven't spoken much since. I wouldn't necessarily say I'm heartbroken about it, but I would've liked for things to turn out differently.
The team is in a strong financial position. We currently hold enough cash on hand to cover the promised 1 billion ISK in bonuses plus the usual 200 million ISK carryover to next season, even after accounting for projected race fees throughout the rest of the season. Unfortunately, our numbers have dwindled as the season has worn on. Personal issues have kept several of our pilots away from the track, including Neon. Takashi and Saikoyu diligently show up and fight for every point, and we're making the most of the resources we have. Somehow, though, I feel that I've done a disservice to the Venture legacy by failing to field overwhelming numbers.
The setbacks sting. I often wonder why life can't be simple and trouble-free. Perhaps overcoming these little hurdles are the victories that really matter, though. The team and I can only hope to keep moving forward and, win or lose, finish the race with dignity.
My parents continue to pressure me to start a family of my own, and most days I feel that I'm letting them down, thanks to my dismal luck with the fairer sex. After a brief diversion in a modeling contest, I found myself rather enchanted by a young lady I met during the competition. We shared a few laughs, and she even visited the family estate with me for about a week. Mom absolutely adored her and missed no opportunity to remind me to treat her properly. Despite my best efforts, however, we parted company at the end of that week and haven't spoken much since. I wouldn't necessarily say I'm heartbroken about it, but I would've liked for things to turn out differently.
The team is in a strong financial position. We currently hold enough cash on hand to cover the promised 1 billion ISK in bonuses plus the usual 200 million ISK carryover to next season, even after accounting for projected race fees throughout the rest of the season. Unfortunately, our numbers have dwindled as the season has worn on. Personal issues have kept several of our pilots away from the track, including Neon. Takashi and Saikoyu diligently show up and fight for every point, and we're making the most of the resources we have. Somehow, though, I feel that I've done a disservice to the Venture legacy by failing to field overwhelming numbers.
The setbacks sting. I often wonder why life can't be simple and trouble-free. Perhaps overcoming these little hurdles are the victories that really matter, though. The team and I can only hope to keep moving forward and, win or lose, finish the race with dignity.
14 June 2011
Headless
Domain was rough for all of us. I had known throughout the week that Takashi would be unavailable for the event, tied up with some planetside business. Immediately after the race in Placid, I notified Graelyn that the burden of running point would likely fall to him, to which he responded with his customary groan. Neon, being our most experienced frigate pilot, was also aware that he may find himself at the head of the Venture pack. It's safe to say, however, that everyone is most comfortable with Takashi driving the team, and he's so reliable that nobody gives much serious thought to ever having to fill his shoes. This strikes me as a failure of the Venture system; it's always good business practice to know how to do your boss's job, just in case.
For my part, I showed up dead tired in Domain. Normally, I'm staged in the correct region the night before the race, ready to receive the starting location and get in position as quickly as possible. A late night handling some personal matters and a trek from Kor-Azor back home to Sinq Laison left me too sleepy to make the trip back out to Domain. I was hauling a pair of Comets in an Iteron IV that needed to be delivered after the race, which made the journey exceptionally slow, so I docked up somewhere around the Gallente-Caldari border zone to catch a brief nap. I was tempted to go straight back to bed after handling the necessities of race fees and registrations, but I'm not one to leave the team hanging when the going gets tough.
Talk of postponement due to the prospect of low turnout gave me a glimmer of hope that I might soon be sound asleep, and as much as I personally favored a delay that would allow us to return to the field later with our captain at the helm, I had to concede that my personal preferences and team interests cannot supersede what's best for the whole; the race must go on. Sadly, Graelyn was nowhere to be found, and I held out hope for his arrival so long that I didn't turn in fees until about four minutes prior to the official start time. Though our team comprised four of the nine racers on the field, two frigates and two assault ships, our lack of any interceptors was a definite disadvantage. I took comfort in the fact that the even breakdown amongst classes, three pilots in each, assured us quality placements in the classes where we did field racers.
After a rushed run through our pre-flight checklist, I reminded everyone of their obligations should they find themselves on point. Most likely, the responsibility was going to be on Neon's shoulders, as it indeed was throughout most of the race, but anything can happen out there. I served as the de facto captain, despite not being on the track, but aside from answering some minor questions from Neon, he did a wonderful job of handling most everything himself. We focused on quality procedure, and I'm proud to say that we ran a solid formation throughout the race without incurring any penalties. This is really what I look for in my final analysis. Technique can be improved to reduce overall finish times, but sloppy procedure is a hard habit to squash, so I'm incredibly thankful that the team flies by the book.
We are once again beneficiaries of another pilot's disqualification. While I do hate to see any racer disqualified after running a fine race, Nicoletta Mithra's misfortune has allowed two of our assault ship pilots, Saikoyu and Koronakesh, to tie for first place individual standings. Because Scuderia Caille earns no points as a team this race, we have also regained a narrow lead in the team standings, offsetting our absence from the class in Placid. Neon continues to hang onto first place for himself and the team in the frigate class, as well. The hand of fate leaves us trailing in the interceptor class, but I have full confidence in our pilots' ability to bounce back from the points deficit.
Perhaps the most exciting part of the week has been the return of Thulla Icin to our roster, along with a new rookie, Solstice Exocet. I'm always overjoyed when one of the family comes home, and it's good to see that even our newest members are sharing the Venture vision with their fellow pilots. I'll have to remember to thank Miranda for encouraging Solstice to join the family. In the meantime, I now find myself scribbling some of my own notes in the margins of Venture history. I can see why Mr. Zek is always smiling in the photos I've seen. He had the best job in the cluster.
For my part, I showed up dead tired in Domain. Normally, I'm staged in the correct region the night before the race, ready to receive the starting location and get in position as quickly as possible. A late night handling some personal matters and a trek from Kor-Azor back home to Sinq Laison left me too sleepy to make the trip back out to Domain. I was hauling a pair of Comets in an Iteron IV that needed to be delivered after the race, which made the journey exceptionally slow, so I docked up somewhere around the Gallente-Caldari border zone to catch a brief nap. I was tempted to go straight back to bed after handling the necessities of race fees and registrations, but I'm not one to leave the team hanging when the going gets tough.
Talk of postponement due to the prospect of low turnout gave me a glimmer of hope that I might soon be sound asleep, and as much as I personally favored a delay that would allow us to return to the field later with our captain at the helm, I had to concede that my personal preferences and team interests cannot supersede what's best for the whole; the race must go on. Sadly, Graelyn was nowhere to be found, and I held out hope for his arrival so long that I didn't turn in fees until about four minutes prior to the official start time. Though our team comprised four of the nine racers on the field, two frigates and two assault ships, our lack of any interceptors was a definite disadvantage. I took comfort in the fact that the even breakdown amongst classes, three pilots in each, assured us quality placements in the classes where we did field racers.
After a rushed run through our pre-flight checklist, I reminded everyone of their obligations should they find themselves on point. Most likely, the responsibility was going to be on Neon's shoulders, as it indeed was throughout most of the race, but anything can happen out there. I served as the de facto captain, despite not being on the track, but aside from answering some minor questions from Neon, he did a wonderful job of handling most everything himself. We focused on quality procedure, and I'm proud to say that we ran a solid formation throughout the race without incurring any penalties. This is really what I look for in my final analysis. Technique can be improved to reduce overall finish times, but sloppy procedure is a hard habit to squash, so I'm incredibly thankful that the team flies by the book.
We are once again beneficiaries of another pilot's disqualification. While I do hate to see any racer disqualified after running a fine race, Nicoletta Mithra's misfortune has allowed two of our assault ship pilots, Saikoyu and Koronakesh, to tie for first place individual standings. Because Scuderia Caille earns no points as a team this race, we have also regained a narrow lead in the team standings, offsetting our absence from the class in Placid. Neon continues to hang onto first place for himself and the team in the frigate class, as well. The hand of fate leaves us trailing in the interceptor class, but I have full confidence in our pilots' ability to bounce back from the points deficit.
Perhaps the most exciting part of the week has been the return of Thulla Icin to our roster, along with a new rookie, Solstice Exocet. I'm always overjoyed when one of the family comes home, and it's good to see that even our newest members are sharing the Venture vision with their fellow pilots. I'll have to remember to thank Miranda for encouraging Solstice to join the family. In the meantime, I now find myself scribbling some of my own notes in the margins of Venture history. I can see why Mr. Zek is always smiling in the photos I've seen. He had the best job in the cluster.
05 June 2011
Indecision
The past week has been rather exciting. I've been spending a lot of time aboard the Victory. I remember my last summer cruise as a cadet aboard this ship. That's when I met Kendar Zek, and though I wasn't exactly a race enthusiast at the time, I believe my short time with the crew ultimately laid the foundation for where I am today. I would've laughed if anyone had told me at the time that someday I'd be her captain. Nevertheless, here I am, taking a much keener interest in all things Venture than I ever did back then.
I've learned a great deal in the ship's racing museum about VRT and our old rivals. There's quite a bit of Dragonstar memorabilia, no doubt collected during Mr. Zek's engagement to Kayleigh Jamieson. I think some of it is not so much about commemorating the sport as much as celebrating a friend, and I wonder if many people were really meant to see it. For now, I don't think I'll be opening the ship for public viewing, though I may invite special guests to check out the unfinished work of a fellow whose shoes I feel less fit to fill every day.
The refit is going slowly. I wrestled with the idea of making any modifications whatsoever. Takashi was Mr. Zek's best friend and partner in racing, and he didn't change a thing while the ship was in his care. Of course, he didn't fly it, either, as far as I know. The cloaking device, smartbombs, and ECM burst systems give me the impression that Mr. Zek might have intended to risk the ship outside of CONCORD's jurisdiction. I have no such intention, so I've got her stripped down to basics until I figure out how best to dress her up again.
We staged up in Stacmon to wait for the starting location for the Placid race. As it happened, we were in the right system and simply had to change stations. A reporter from Racing Insider magazine dropped by to speak with us, so Takashi and I took a few minutes to answer her questions. Apparently, we're on the cover of this month's issue. I don't know if I'm prepared to be a celebrity. I certainly don't do anything exciting. Perhaps no one needs to know just how much of my job involves spreadsheets and flowcharts.
The track layout threw us off balance with something new: a nullsec route. To my knowledge, no one at Venture had ever planned for it. I've gone through some old logs since the race, and everyone always seemed reasonably certain that nullsec was off limits during a race. Perhaps it's time to throw away the old book and write a new one. In the heat of the moment, Takashi asked me to make the decision whether to take the plunge or reroute, and from the tranquility of my docked ship, I dropped the ball. Any decision would have been fine. I could've said to take the long route to avoid risking the fleet or take the short route for the best odds against the clock, and the team would've instantly complied. Instead, I said, "You're the captain, Tak. It's your call."
To be fair, Takashi is the captain, and it is his call. His call, however, was to ask me to make the call from my God's-eye perch, and my indecisiveness led to indecisiveness on the track. I have no doubt that my waffling cost Takashi first place. In the future, I'll simply have to make quick decisions and live with the results.
On the whole, Lady Luck conspired to hand us some solid finishes, but she's a fickle mistress, and I don't really want to rely on her too much going forward.
I've learned a great deal in the ship's racing museum about VRT and our old rivals. There's quite a bit of Dragonstar memorabilia, no doubt collected during Mr. Zek's engagement to Kayleigh Jamieson. I think some of it is not so much about commemorating the sport as much as celebrating a friend, and I wonder if many people were really meant to see it. For now, I don't think I'll be opening the ship for public viewing, though I may invite special guests to check out the unfinished work of a fellow whose shoes I feel less fit to fill every day.
The refit is going slowly. I wrestled with the idea of making any modifications whatsoever. Takashi was Mr. Zek's best friend and partner in racing, and he didn't change a thing while the ship was in his care. Of course, he didn't fly it, either, as far as I know. The cloaking device, smartbombs, and ECM burst systems give me the impression that Mr. Zek might have intended to risk the ship outside of CONCORD's jurisdiction. I have no such intention, so I've got her stripped down to basics until I figure out how best to dress her up again.
We staged up in Stacmon to wait for the starting location for the Placid race. As it happened, we were in the right system and simply had to change stations. A reporter from Racing Insider magazine dropped by to speak with us, so Takashi and I took a few minutes to answer her questions. Apparently, we're on the cover of this month's issue. I don't know if I'm prepared to be a celebrity. I certainly don't do anything exciting. Perhaps no one needs to know just how much of my job involves spreadsheets and flowcharts.
The track layout threw us off balance with something new: a nullsec route. To my knowledge, no one at Venture had ever planned for it. I've gone through some old logs since the race, and everyone always seemed reasonably certain that nullsec was off limits during a race. Perhaps it's time to throw away the old book and write a new one. In the heat of the moment, Takashi asked me to make the decision whether to take the plunge or reroute, and from the tranquility of my docked ship, I dropped the ball. Any decision would have been fine. I could've said to take the long route to avoid risking the fleet or take the short route for the best odds against the clock, and the team would've instantly complied. Instead, I said, "You're the captain, Tak. It's your call."
To be fair, Takashi is the captain, and it is his call. His call, however, was to ask me to make the call from my God's-eye perch, and my indecisiveness led to indecisiveness on the track. I have no doubt that my waffling cost Takashi first place. In the future, I'll simply have to make quick decisions and live with the results.
On the whole, Lady Luck conspired to hand us some solid finishes, but she's a fickle mistress, and I don't really want to rely on her too much going forward.
02 June 2011
Relics
As I continue to get Venture's affairs in order after the long hiatus, I routinely come across old records, often with notes scribbled in the margins by Kendar Zek. Some files indicated that Kendar was beginning work on a plan to produce frigates in-house, so I asked Takashi if he could help track down any blueprints that his partner might have misplaced. Takashi was fairly certain that anything of the sort would've been left with one of our affiliates, Aurora Speed, for safekeeping.
After a few days of waiting, contracts from Aurora began showing up for me. Kendar seems to have had some strange ideas about which frigates the team would need. More surprising than what he did have in the collection was what he didn't have: no Executioner, Rifter, or Vigil blueprints. I'm not sure what to make of it. Was he planning to produce ships as a means of income rather than as racing stock, or had he simply not gotten around to starting work on the most popular frigates in the league?
More importantly, I received contracts for more than just blueprints. Kendar apparently left some of his own ships with Aurora, and they have been locked in the same hangars for years, untouched aside from the standard maintenance. I giggled when I saw a contract for a Velator-class frigate. This one doesn't appear to be the same ship from the Season 3 race in Domain, but it is named for the original, presumably a replica. Perhaps when I get around to checking the ship's logs, I'll find some useful information about her.
The crown jewel of Venture relics has also been uncovered, sitting quietly in a Caldari Business Tribunal station. I now have in my possession the Independent Achura, an Atron-class frigate renamed in Season 4 as part of a sponsorship deal. The ship itself predates the formation of the team; it is the original racing vessel flown by Kendar Zek. Rather than hiring a courier to deliver her back to Fricoure, I took the liberty of fetching her myself. I almost feel guilty putting her to space again, as I think perhaps she should be a museum piece.
Surprisingly, the Independent Achura isn't quite fit for racing. Her rigs are standard racing gear, but the cloaking device and warp core stabilizers lead me to believe that perhaps her captain had other uses for her off the track.
After a few days of waiting, contracts from Aurora began showing up for me. Kendar seems to have had some strange ideas about which frigates the team would need. More surprising than what he did have in the collection was what he didn't have: no Executioner, Rifter, or Vigil blueprints. I'm not sure what to make of it. Was he planning to produce ships as a means of income rather than as racing stock, or had he simply not gotten around to starting work on the most popular frigates in the league?
More importantly, I received contracts for more than just blueprints. Kendar apparently left some of his own ships with Aurora, and they have been locked in the same hangars for years, untouched aside from the standard maintenance. I giggled when I saw a contract for a Velator-class frigate. This one doesn't appear to be the same ship from the Season 3 race in Domain, but it is named for the original, presumably a replica. Perhaps when I get around to checking the ship's logs, I'll find some useful information about her.
The crown jewel of Venture relics has also been uncovered, sitting quietly in a Caldari Business Tribunal station. I now have in my possession the Independent Achura, an Atron-class frigate renamed in Season 4 as part of a sponsorship deal. The ship itself predates the formation of the team; it is the original racing vessel flown by Kendar Zek. Rather than hiring a courier to deliver her back to Fricoure, I took the liberty of fetching her myself. I almost feel guilty putting her to space again, as I think perhaps she should be a museum piece.
Surprisingly, the Independent Achura isn't quite fit for racing. Her rigs are standard racing gear, but the cloaking device and warp core stabilizers lead me to believe that perhaps her captain had other uses for her off the track.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
