A conversation request so soon after combat? I can only imagine my opponents want to congratulate me on my skill and tenacity. I hope that they also want to give me my Loki back. Strategic cruisers cost a fair amount of ISK to replace, after all. I accept the request, because why wouldn't I, and see a capusleer I am unfamiliar with. Even cross-checking his corporation with that of the pilots who ambushed me doesn't match. But surely this isn't a coincidence.
No coincidence here. Capsuleers rarely want to talk to me normally, and this one is no exception. It seems that I shot a blue. Or, rather, the other fleet shot a blue. Me. I was blue to them, and they want to find out if they are also blue to us. And, naturally, why I would execute such an attack if that is the case. Well, it's all news to me, as the Procurer didn't look blue, the fleet that helped me out of my Loki didn't look blue, and the corporation is about as grey as the Manchester skyline.
Fin comes on-line, and when my glorious leader is brought in to the conversation she's just as in the dark as me. It seems that someone, at some point, struck up some kind of arrangement with another someone. Who did that and with who is left as an exercise to the reader, because none of us know. And it didn't seem to matter either. Although my blue hue may have slowed down the reaction time of the hostile fleet, they certainly didn't mind being hostile towards me. But, hey, if we're blue, can I have my Loki back, please?
My attempt to turn the hostile engagement in to a combat manoeuvre doesn't quite come off, with no immediate agreement to give me my ship back. I just parked it near the mining barge, dudes. Maybe I left the keys in it. Even so, I'd quite like it back. Fin gets to work and negotiates a transfer, which is provisionally agreed upon. The Loki will be taken to high-sec and contracted back to me for a decent sum of ISK. Not as much as a new ship, but a guaranteed quick sale. Well, guaranteed if the fleet actually honours the deal.
I'm a little dubious about the deal. Personally, I think it makes rational sense to accept, as long as they don't want a Loki fit with those specific subsystems, as liquid ISK must be better than having a ship sit in storage. But the static exit to high-sec in the class 3 w-space system is at the end of its life. If they're going to use that connection to dock and contract the Loki back to me the window of opportunity to collect it in a convenient location could be small. It may be just a ruse to get me back out of the home system.
Fin goes to check. Well, Fin goes to check the state of the high-sec exit, but inadvertently manages to see if the hostile fleet is waiting for me. And they pretty much are. A Legion decloaks on our side of our static wormhole, the strategic cruiser not jumping itself but moving to nuzzle up to the locus, clearly waiting for someone to come back. That someone would be Fin, who has attracted plenty of attention from the rest of the fleet on the other side of the wormhole. I'm not getting a fuzzy feeling about this.
The wormhole crackles. The Legion hasn't gone; other ships are coming in. A Loki (not mine), two Proteus strategic cruisers, an Ishtar heavy assault cruiser, Broadsword heavy interdictor, and a Falcon recon ship—really? You need to inflict ECM on an opponent on top of all that force?—all appear around the wormhole. And there's Fin, in a bit of empty space, cloaking, jinking, and, so she says, warping. That's a relief.
A pair of the ships cruise out towards Fin's last known location, as I watch cloaked from a distance. She's not there, of course, so their attempts to bump her fail. But clearly our wormhole is not safe at the moment, and even when the fleet has left, and no movement is seen for quite a while, it still doesn't feel safe. Curiously, the pilots don't use the exit in C3a to contract the Loki back to me, which would be one way to lure us back out of our home system. Instead, we just float in space, shooting the
breeze solar wind, before going off-line for the night. Tomorrow is another day.