After about a year of taking online courses I have to wonder what exactly I am learning and why colleges bother to hire professors.

In all the classes I am taking the curriculum is based on whatever textbook is chosen as appropriate for the course. In the case of the college I am going to (which is in most respects a traditional “students attend in person” college) the college has taken the idea of choosing texts one step further and have chosen a publisher to provide the courses of study taught at the college. So in effect is not the publisher of the texts then the professors at the college? Are not the authors of the text the experts that should be teaching the classes that I want to attend?

As it stands, the professors at the college present students with a text, they read from the text and supposedly create assignments and projects based on the text. However, the assignments could indeed be created by the text authors, projects put together by the publishers, and finally all the quizzes and exams written by the publishers and authors. If this is the case, why are we bothering to hire professors? What exactly do they bring to the learning experience that is not already provided by the text authors and publishers?

It was always my understanding that colleges were places of higher learning. I thought higher learning was something more creative than just reading a book and parroting the facts back. So where is that creative higher learning? I want to be there; I want to think about things that are new and cutting edge. I thought that professors were people who invoked original thought from their students? I thought college and professors passed on ideas that may not be published, examined, determined, judged, argued, written down, scrutinized, re-examined in various editions, judged again and finally just accepted. Isn’t there supposed to be an original thought somewhere? Weren’t professors the gardeners of human knowledge? Weren’t students supposed to be the fertile soil tended by professors in which new ideas grew? Where is that? What if the texts are wrong?

Seriously, with the current teaching in college you might as well get high school teachers to teach the subjects. There is no point in paying professors with letters behind their names if they are not going to teach something other than what is written in the textbooks. After all, is that not why you hired the professor with letters after their names in the first place, to teach something new, to bring a new perspective to the subject, a fresh way of looking at something, to explore their ideas and promote “higher learning”?

Recently I asked the following question to my “online professors”:

Please forgive the perceived sarcasm, but I have been taking online classes now for a year and it seems that there is very little “taught” in these classes that you could not get by buying the book, reading it and doing the review. So, what is it that you, as a professor, offer me in terms of value add to this course of education aside from accreditations?

Not one of the professors could answer this question. The least answer I was expecting was “guidance” or ‘expertise”; but even these answers did not arrive. This is interesting when you think about it. I am taking classes to get my BA in Secondary Education with an emphasis in computer programming and fine arts and I have already thought about this question and I know what I would answer if this question were asked of me. My answer:

I hope to bring to the student a new and fresh way of looking at a subject beyond what may be written in any textbook. I bring years of experience in the business world and an understanding of what may be expected in a career in programming or fine arts that is just not written about in any text. I have analytical skills that help me to understand what it is you need to learn better and more fully. My goal is to give you the student tools that you can use and be successful with. Hopefully my experience and ways of understanding things can help you. I am here to help you be successful and creative.

I think my answer is pretty good. I think that when a student eventually asks me that question he/she will be happy with my answer. I think at that point my having letters behind my name is not proof that I read the books, but rather, a signal that I have added to the world in some way and this is recognized with degrees. I hope to inspire new minds and tend to new ideas encouraging them to grow.

Right now I have to go back to work and read more textbooks and not really learn anything at all, just dedicate to memory information that will be forgotten about 5 minutes after the exam that must be taken in order to get my credits for the degree that will be earned on information that is fugitive and really not needed for anything that I will be doing in the future.

Someone hand me a #2 pencil.

This is a work of fiction based on an online game I play called EVE. You can find out more about it by clicking on the banner to the right of this article.

The Icarus Effect

Brother Ivannois knew he could not advance within his order until he had attempted and lived through the Icarus Effect; a dream state induced by a triple dose of the Sooth Sayer Booster. He had already transferred his pod to a tricked out Condor, a very fast and nimble ship. He was told that he should use the fastest ship he could afford and one that maneuvered as best as he could withstand; it would all add to the effect and make survival easier. He tipped the booster into cerebral feed two.

The ship was ejected from the station; he invoked the booster for the first time.

The contraband fluid coursed through the tubes feeding the cerebral implants and he slipped seamlessly from consciousness to a light trance, ships sensors feeding his heightened awareness. Every ship outside the station became known to him, his sense of their movement and trajectories became an intricate dance. He moved the ship with but a thought now, a thought to dance with the ships around him. In his diminished awareness he knew he had to continue the experience to the Icarus Effect. He willed his disembodied hand to boost again, something not normally done.

The second dose of Sooth Sayer hit his brain and the ship he was in was gone. Ivannois was floating in space, aware of all the ships, stations, asteroids, planets and even space junk that moved and surrounded him. He shot from ship to ship to junk to container floating in space with the ease of walking, easier in fact. He examined each for their queer beauty and moved on, finally making a huge jump to explore the moon that the station he’d left orbited.

In preparing for this experience he had rigged a special circuit that would deliver the final dose of the booster if he was too far into the experience to remember. The third and final dose hit and his living dream-world became his reality.

Spaced shredded. Ivannois was no longer in an open reality, but one where the very folds of the universe could be experienced. He was ripping his way through psychotically hued ripples heading toward the undulating and pulsating sphere that was a moon. He could feel his hand grasping the folds and pulling him along; his feet were kicking as if swimming, impelling him forward, and the wings on his back steered him to his destination, cutting through gossamer sheets of space; wakes of rippling light from his travels could be seen behind him. As he looked something new caught his eye, something scintillating.

He turned his back to the moon he was heading for and stopped to appraise the gem in the cosmic kaleidoscope he was now part of. He began to reach for the radiant object, his desire now fixed on it. Ivannois was convinced if he could possess the glorious object he could completely escape from the universe and find a permanent Nirvana of his own. So strong was the feeling he flung his unfettered body at the star unmindful of any ill effect.

The chromatic display of folded space as he approached was strong and blinding, but that mattered not in the least to Ivannois whose fascination overwhelmed any remenents of his caution. He felt in his heart that all his questions would be answered as the miasma of light and complex space surrounded and overwhelmed him. The universe faded to white…

Brother Ivannois awoke several hours later, the pain in his head so tragic he could barely stand it; but that was nothing compared to the despair he felt for not reaching his utopia. He read the ship logs and found that the ship had automatically returned him to a safe spot when the ship entered into the corona of the star and the armor plating began melting off.

Brother Ivannois sat in his pod and wept.

I think there is an inherent flaw in our American system and philosophy. I think this flaw is what is making our lives difficult. I think it is the reason that we are not excelling as a leader of the world. I think that it is costing us as Americans too much money. I think it may be a fundamental flaw in interpreting the meaning of the founding fathers. I think that we are mistaking “Equal” (as in “all men are created equal”) with “Same”.

It should be plain to see once you point it out that “equal” is not the same as “same”. “Same” implies that all elements and circumstances are similar or even identical, and when taken as an abstract whole can be considered to have a value. “Equal” does not have the same implication that the whole(s) as in comparison be the same or even remotely similar, but in the end have a comparatively similar value. For example, a person with 10 small American flags is the same as another person with 10 small American flags. However, you could say that the person with 10 small American flags is equal to a person with 1 large American flag. In both cases there is value in the flags, but in one the value is compared directly unit for unit and in the other a judgment is made that 10 small flags is comparable to one large flag. I know it is subtle, but this is important.

This concept it hit me years ago when confronted with Women’s Rights issues that my ex was so fond of quoting. I personally did not have a problem with equal pay for equal work, or consideration for pregnancy and so on. What I had an issue with was that some of these women wanted to be treated the same as a man. I do not care how you cut it, there are ways in which men and women are different and that cannot be changed. As a general rule men are more physical and generally women are more emotional, and therefore there are jobs more suited to each. There are exception on both sides, I am not talking about exceptions except that they prove the rule and I have no problems with the exception either, but when a woman wants a man to treat her exactly like a man, we have a problem. After all, viva la difference! In this way women are seeking equality with men but not parity. Some women have not figured out that equity does not have to mean sameness or parity, but rather equality in worth, salary and respect. I for one like holding a door for a woman, it is polite and recalls more chivalrous days and a higher civility. I do not have to have the door held for me by a woman; she is doing it for the wrong reason and does not get the point of the door holding and Women’s Rights (unless she is doing it for the right reasons [politeness] which I do not discount).

(Oy… all this politically correct speak and such, truly I do not mean any prejudice against anyone, but I still have watch every word and phrasing.)

So in the above example can we agree that women are looking for equality and not sameness? Are we really looking for women to wear pant suits instead of something more flattering? Should women give up what makes them special just to fit in with everyone else? And while we are at it, shouldn’t we as men wear dresses occasionally to make women more comfortable? Hmm… let’s get real about it all and move on understanding that equality does not mean everyone must fit the same mold.

So, let’s move on to a more immediate and potentially more devastating program that is now being evoked within our school system, the No Child Left Behind Act of 2001. While ostensibly a reauthorization bill with the inclusion of high standards for children and more teacher accountability, it has in actuality become the “every child must go to collage act”. It has now standardized scholastic testing and teacher evaluation and forced these on schools by refusing funding if the goals are not met. It also treats all kids the same and really does not take into account the special needs of some children. But let’s be clear here, it should be obvious that not all children are the same and no matter what we do not every child will be college material, and there is nothing wrong with the child if in the end they are not college material.

Because of this massive educational act we are now treating all children the same, not equal, but the same. In the system now if a child is more academically inclined, good at reading and math and such, they do well because the system is set up for them. On the other hand if a child is artistically gifted (or may struggle with a learning disability or some other issue that impairs their ability to learn) and not as apt at academics, their education is being neglected in an effort to bring these children to parity with academically inclined students.

It is a wonderful idea to think that college is available to all students and if this true it is a great stride forward for the education system in our country, but it is a different thing to say that all student must attend college. To paraphrase Erasmus, “In the country of Doctors, the Plumber reigns supreme!” In fact you can replace Doctors with any single college product and replace Plumbers with any blue collar occupation and still be on the right track. The point of the above is that in order for the country and society to move along smoothly you need a work force that does not have to be college trained. In fact, as is portrayed every year in June as the college grad get ready to look for work, there are far few jobs available for these college grads than most expect. Also, being a college grad with letter after their names they expect a pay rate that is well above those who do not attend more advanced education. This is required to pay off college loans. So where is the fairness in all this? In making everyone the same we are killing ourselves because their isn’t a plumber in the house.

We have to face the very real truth that all children are different, but all children must be allowed equal opportunity to excel. This does not mean they need the “same opportunities” to excel, it means that they are allowed to grow where they need to grow and into a life they need to be successful. An artistic child needs to be guided and enriched through the arts. A child with a mathematical ability needs to be guided to areas of pursuit that takes advantage of these gifts. In some cases the children will grow up and go to college, in other cases they may enroll in a trade school or work as an apprentice in a blue collar field, or finally not attend college at all if it does not suit them. But what is amazing in this scenario is that all these options are available.

It really is about the American Dream, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” The child says “I want to be a doctor.” Fine, we can provide you a path to that. Another child answers that she wants to be a poet, do poets need college? Some would say yes, some would disagree, but the options are there for the child’s choosing. Yes, some, many in fact, will go to college and take positions that our society needs filled. Yes, many in fact, will not go to college and take positions that our society needs filled.

The problem with creating a standardized program where everyone has the same expectations and are required to fill the same roles and everyone is expected to go to college is you get a standardized student. Right now it would seem the standardized student is not good enough compared to with global expectations. It seems to me when you give the student the keys to their own future, allow then to make the choices that they will take into the future, the overall effect was an overall better society.

Break the “sameness” mold, shoot for equality.

This is a work of fiction based on an online game I play called EVE. You can find out more about it by clicking on the banner to the right of this article.

Incident In Aunia

Captain Jay Harshaw is a tall man with a strange look and a somewhat addled mind, but one thing for sure, if you need something done, he could probably do it; if you could peak his interest, and that was harder than most would think. He stands 2.1 meters with wild hair in a race between silver and bald, and bald was winning. He has a habit of wearing his old Gallente Military fatigues, holdovers from the Caldari war. In fact, these fatigues are so out of style that they came back in style and are now tragically completely out of style again, not that he cares. But what most people notice first is the strange smirk that is constantly on his face, a smirk that says everything may not be functioning properly upstairs. At 64 years of age Captain HJ (HJ because when asked his name he always replied in military parlance, “HarshawJ, Captain of the good ship Arkenstone, Placcid Mining Corporation, payroll number triple zero two”) was still sharp in most matters, but one can never be certain when he will slip around the bend.

“Sir?...”

Ensign Benson nudged the Captain and the low sonic noises on the bridge ceased to the relief of the crew. HJ opened one eye and scanned the bridge lazily, his eye stopping on the all too anxious face of Carl Benson, Ensign.  “You’re mother mated with a Minmatar; what is so important that you had to disturb my cogitating?”

“We may have a problem Sir.”

“We may have a problem have we? And what exactly is the problem you think we may have Ensign, Benson?” Now he remembered why he hired the moonfaced boy standing next to him; Ensign, Benson; he was worth hours of fun at the dupes’ expense. He chuckled to himself which was of course interpreted by the crew as a sure sign the Captain may be off his medication again.

“Astrometrics reported a blip about 100 clicks out maybe an hour ago. It appeared, then disappeared about 5 seconds later. We didn’t pay it much attention, it could have been another miner passing by. But a couple of minutes ago astrometrics noted a warp signature starting in the same place but no blip. The logs show the ship an hour ago was a small ship, a frigate, maybe an Imicus class ship; they are often used by startup miners.”

“So where exactly is the problem? We get buzzed by other miners every day. They buzz us, they see the hulking HJS Arkenstone and the orbiting Hammerheads and get the picture; leave us alone. Unless you figure the blip an hour ago was not just another miner, is that it?” Of course that was it. HJ knew the signs of a cloaked ship when he heard them. And a ship that could warp out cloaked; he knew what that was all too well, covert ops.

“Sir, it could have been a Helios, a modified Imicus.”

“Is that a question or a statement Benson?”

The Ensign was sweating now; he had heard the rumors of other Ensigns that had not lived up to Capt. HJ’s expectation; rumors of frozen corpses being found amongst the minerals that the Arkenstone mined. In fact he never would have taken the position had the pay not been so monumental! Captain HJ was the only captain in the region that would take on a greenhorn and give him a full share and that was nothing to sneeze at considering the Arkenstone was noted to turn a billion ISK or more in two weeks. By his calculation the crew must all be very well off and he wanted in on that certainly.

Benson bit his lip, straightened his back and pronounced, “That’s a statement Sir!”

HJ looked him over and keyed the comm system on his panel. “Engineering, how many cans do we have out right now?” Lt. Commander Argyle snapped back, “We have eight out sir. Number nine is assembling now and will re-can number one in about a minute.”

“Are you loading the gifts in each can as per protocol Sean?” The sounds of a quick cargo inventory could be heard in the background, “Aye sir, eight cans out, eight toys out, one per can.”

The Captain flicked off the comm and slouched further into his seat. Ensign Benson was still standing there, looking as prim as could be. “Sir, any orders?”

“What would you have me do against a ghost ship that we could not identify and may be nothing at all?” HJ let out a sigh and then, “Resume your station at communications Ensign and open a channel to corporate. Get me the CEO; get me Colonel Tibbets.”

With a snappy “Yes Sir” ensign Benson returned to the comm, happy to have something to do. “Opening channel sir, it will be a minute or so…”

The atmosphere on the bridge got tense even though the captain seemed to be as casual (or distracted) as usual. He stood up, ran a hand through his hair which did not tame it a bit and said, “I bet you don’t even remember the Caldari war, do you Benson?” The crew on the bridge groaned. “Those were the days… the tactics were harsh, the tech was new and incredible and a man could be trusted to give everything for the Federation. Those were the days; it was even before clones.

You know I used to be a frigate pilot? That is where I got most of my training in fact. I flew Atron Mk II’s, before they could fit micro warp drives on them. They were still fast though and they were ugly and I loved them. Ever notice that people love the ugly ships more? They do you know. I wonder why? Well anyways, you learned fast or you died. Heh, we wouldn’t even talk to new pilots until they had at least 5 sorties under their belt and even then there was no respect until they flown 10 and had 10 confirmed kills. After that life was better in the Militia, but it was still hard, always living on the edge. It was that edge that made life sharp and in focus, colors brighter, beer better. I hated the Caldari, but I loved them for giving me that lust for the edge in life. They were real sons of bi…”

“Sir, the Colonel.”

HJ pulled himself out of his revelries and turned to face the forward screen. “Fat Man, what is it you want?” came the crisp booming voice of Paul Tibbets from the screen.

“Little Boy, good to see you. I just wanted to let you know that we may have to play with our toys and all that. Is there any reason we shouldn’t?” Tibbets thought it over a second. “No, it has been a while since you played with them… six years?”

“No sir, seven years going on eight.”

“Really? Well it’s about time then. You know who it is?”

“Well, it’s not Serpentis, Blood Raiders, or Thukkars, they don’t operate this way from the signs I am seeing. Angel Cartel is a possibility, but I think we would have been hit by now. It’s probably a new group, well funded, and trying to be smart about grabbing ore. That’s what I am counting on.”

“Are we going to have problems with Concord, HJ?”

“Not in this system, were still in empire. Unless Concord has changed the rules we shouldn’t have a problem in any case.”

“Well stick to corporate protocol and I will back your play any way you do it. Tibbets out.”

“Captain, new warp trail reading, this one closer. No ship on scanner.” said Lt. Axelrod from the astrometrics station.

HJ sat down again showing no signs of nervousness even if every other member of the crew were now fidgeting and fussing in some manner. “Mr Axelrod, give me 15 degree scans along the system plane of the ecliptic. Look for fleets or gangs forming within about 4 AU. Mr. Haas, recall the drones and launch the Tech 2 drones, just in case. Engineering, Sean you listening? Warm up the invulnerability screens and the afterburners to be on the safe side. Goggles, leave the roids we’re mining targeted, relock the remaining targeting slots on our cans; we may have to pop them ourselves. And no matter what happens, don’t stop mining. Ensign, take us to yellow alert, silent siren.”

The ships’ interior was momentarily bathed in cruel yellow light as the crew went about their tasks preparing for hostiles. The roll call of stations could be heard over the comm as all hands took positions.

“Now where was I… oh yeah, frigates as dog fighters, that was surely seat of you pants flying; fast, gutsy, and more than a little insane. But I have to admit, when it comes down to a duel, a knife fight as it were, I will go against any other pilot out there in a frig before I use a bigger ship… after all why waste a big ship when the small ships are truly skill. You will know the better pilot after a frig fight, no doubt about it.

But that’s not where I earned my rank… no the militia had other ideas for me. It was the battle of Serpents Coil, in Vilinnon. Several of our battle cruisers had spotted and damaged the command ship but couldn’t finish the job. We were low on ships, but we knew that if we could just take out their commander the Caldari would do what they always did and that was turn and run. Three ships were asked to give the ultimate for the war, I was one of them. Two of our Thorax rammed the repper ships supporting the commander and I was to lance the command ship and finish her off. Only right, I was in an early version of the Ishkur. Needless to say our cruisers occupied the attention of the repper ships and that left the command ship open. I made my run. As I lanced that ship through the bridge it blew taking my ship with it of course. I fully expected my pod to eject into the middle of massive explosions and I was a goner. It was what I lived for, it was what I would die for, I was ready for it. But something happened and my pod blew right through the ship. It nearly killed me, but I had just enough cap to warp out and spend the next three months recovering at a station.

Little did I know that I had just paid the piper into a new fighter wing whose entry ticket was survival of a suicide run. High command moved me to the 108th Stealth Bomber Wing, the Fat Men.”

Benson interrupted, “Ah, I heard of them! They call them Fat Men because they fly Tristans. Right?”

“No that’s not it… we flew a prototype ship back then, what was to become the Nemesis. Common mistake but the name Fat Men came from the ordinance.”

“The ordinance? I don’t get i…”

Klaxons sounded and the bridge of the Arkenstone became awash in the blood red illumination as proximity alerts ripped across the control screens. Two Myrmidon battlecruisers warped in practically on top of them and the whining of being target locked rang from the tactical station.

Goggles looked up, “Both BC’s have locked on to us. We’re being scanned.”

“Stay calm people, remember where we are…”

“Communications open, they want to talk.”

“By all means Ensign Benson, we should talk, open the channel.”

The screen filled with the vision of a Caldari woman, about 2 meters tall, mocha skin, and the most ridiculous uniform you can ever imagine. She came off looking more like a stripper from a pleasure hub than a captain of a ship; certainly she did no work on her vessel. It was almost laughable. “I am Captain Vexia of the corporation Paradise Pirates. Surrender your cargo and we claim the cans in space as free property. And to let you leave in one piece you can deposit 100 million ISK to my account. Or you can die.”

“Captain, captain, right away with the threats and hostility? I’m sure you can be more civil than that? I am Captain Harshaw of the exhumer Arkenstone. To what to I owe the timely visit by you and your…” he looked down over the ships scanner, 9 ships in all had surrounded them, they were organized, “8 companions? Surely not our little mining operation?”

“That is precisely the reason and I have no use for pleasantries… you’re going to give use what I want or would you rather test weather your clone is up to date?”

“My my, we are to the point aren’t we… ok… tell you what, you can have the cans in space. I will withdraw my drones and we’ll be on our way.” HJ nodded to Haas to recall the drones. “As for the ransom… I am not going to pay it. You’re in empire space; you really want to tangle with Concord by firing on me?”

Vexia turned to talk to someone else on her bridge, HJ turned to Benson and had him mute the channel, “How many in their corporation?” Benson looked up, “according to their current charter, 9, this is the whole corporation!”

“Not for long. Unmute. Well Vexia… what’s it going to be?”

She turned back to the screen in anger, restrained herself, “Fine, but jettison everything in your cargo hold too.”

“You mean the ore in my hold? How much is there Mr. Argyle?” “7k plag” “You mean the 7k plag waiting for a can?”

“Yes and whatever is in those small secure containers too”

“There are only two of them, let us at least keep the toys…”

“No, turn them over or damned be Concord, I will vaporize you.”

“One moment…” Benson muted the channel again, “Sean, load it all up, empty the holds, get the screens up and start moving us away with all possible speed. All hands, get to the life pods, this may be a bit rough.” The sound of the Jettison Can being launched shook the ship.

Turning back to address the pirate, “It’s all yours Captain Vexia… you’ll get no problems from us. We’re moving out.”

Captain Vexia laughed. “You carebears are all too predictable… work, work, work and give it all up at the least sign of trouble. You make this job just too easy.”

“Well captain, sounds like we are done then. End transmission.” The last sounds over the channel were the laughs of the crews on the Paradise Pirates ships.

“Sean, we got to get 15km away before they open up one of those toys… move it move it move it. Mr. Axelrod… distance?

“We’re at 9 kilometers. 63 seconds to 15 click mark. Their Badgers are transferring the ore now. They have good ships, each is taking in a whole can or so. They must be rigged.”

“Where’s the Helios?”

“Dead Center, scanning. 12 clicks out.”

“Are they still tightly grouped?”

“All of them within about a 5 click radius. Sir, 15 kilometers out.”

Captain Harshaw let out a big sigh of relief. “Yes Ensign Benson, the ordinance. We were Fat Men, the 109th Stealth Bomber Wing were nicknamed ‘Little Boys’, terms whos origins are lost in antiquity. You see, today most Stealth Bombers are relegated to launching Cruise Missiles. Back in the Caldari War our stealth bombers delivered something with a bit more kick, real bombs. We could only carry three at a time, but we would approach cloaked, target and fly the bombs and get the hell out. Hit and run tactics. That’s why they took people who survived suicide runs, because every run in a Stealth Bomber was potentially a suicide run. But the bombs do a bit more damage than the missiles… what the nick names refer to are really big bombs… Like our toys.”

“Sir, 21 clicks out.”

“Benson, inner-ship… Attention, stand down from pods but be ready for shock waves.”

Goggles grabbed his console, “Number 5 was cracked, 7 seconds, 6, 5, 4…”

“Hold on Ensign, this is libel to throw you…”

“2”

“1”

The forward screen lit up, pure white as a massive explosion engulfed the Paradise Pirates. Every hauler was shredded, the Helios was shattered like so much straw in a tornado. The Myrmidons survived and the comm system blared to life, it was Vexia… “Harshaw…. What the hell have you …” but she never finished the sentence as the remaining bombs made quick work of everything within the 15 kilometer blast radius. There weren’t even asteroids to mine by the time the last bomb popped.

The Arkenstone shook and bucked as the shockwaves moved past it, and while it sustained a fair amount of damage, the structure remained intact. The emergency power and life support kicked in as the bridge crew recovered.

“Activate emergency pressure seals, launch all nanite reppers and internal repair systems. Open sickbay and get anyone who needs it attention. Ok boys, this ain’t over yet. Let’s prey for a Concord Captain with a level head.”

Axelrod chimed in, “Radar and Ladar are down, but I am getting strong Gravametric readings… yes incoming, looks like 4 battleships, 6 battlecruisers, and a mess of smaller ships. They’re all targeting! Damn, in our condition we’ll instapop!”

“Benson, open a channel now, fast.”

“Done, barely.”

“This is Colonel Jay Harshaw, Gallente Militia, retired. Hold you fire, HOLD YOUR FIRE!”

The stern face of a Concord Major appeared on screen. “What in the Blue Blazes of Balthazar’s Binary Nebulas happened here and why the hell shouldn’t I blow you to kingdom come for all the hell you’re going to cause me?”

“Because we didn’t do anything wrong! And to whom am I talking?” Captain Harshaw stood, crossed his arms and managed to look smug. That put the Concord Major off his game; he looked down at his overview.

“I’m Major Dalton, CC4457AKR8331. Let’s see, ambient radiation is 8.2, falling fast thankfully, two battle cruisers, 6 haulers and 5 frigate class ships all destroyed. I also see the wrecks of over 80 escape pods, all empty, all shattered. Incredible. And here you are alive. Care to explain this ‘natural disaster’? Because if it isn’t some freak natural disaster I would surely like to know how one exhumer can cause all this damage.”

“Not so natural Major…” and Captain HJ went on to tell the tale of the last 30 minutes.

By the time HJ finished talking, using his best fast talk and diplomacy, he had Major Dalton convinced that we had single handedly saved the whole system right under his nose. “So no Major, there were no smart bombs used, just good old fashioned bombs, perfectly legal. And in fact you can see by the logs we didn’t even pop them off, they stole them from us first. Check the agro. Then they must have mishandled the bombs and blew themselves up. It just goes to show you the intelligence of some of these pirates.”

“And you did nothing to help it along?”

“Would it matter if I had?”

Major Dalton having just about all he could take just shook his head. “OK, ok. Harshaw, you and your crew would do well to not hang around this system… find somewhere else to “mine”. I am going to call this one a wash. Now get going and don’t let me see you again.”

“Major, your wisdom is immense. You will not see us here again. Arkenstone out.”

Captain Harshaw settled again into the captain’s chair, getting as comfortable as possible. “Mr. Axelrod, take us home to Villore, we need more toys. And you Ensign Benson, don’t disturb my cogitating again.”