Over the last year, we’ve run four EVE Online fan-fiction contests, each set in one of New Eden’s great empires: Amarr, Minmatar, Gallente, and Caldari. We’ve given out hundreds of dollars of prizes to the carefully selected winners, and now we’re delighted to be able to share the edited versions of these stories with you. Below, you’ll find the winning story in full for each one of the faction fan-fiction contests, as well as a snippet of and link to the second- and third-place winners. Get yourself a nice cup of space coffee and enjoy these literary delights. 

EVE Online fan-fiction: The Amarr Empire

Winning story: Miyoshi Akachi’s ‘Amarr’

The theocratic and ritualistic Amarr Empire is New Eden’s largest faction. Our winning Amarrian fan-fiction story comes from the highly talented AlexGoesTheWorld, who had us hooked from the opening paragraph. It feels momentous, epic in the truest sense of the word; a story that drove its author rather than the other way around. Here’s an author’s note from Miyoshi:

“The goal of this piece was to be cinematic. I had a film in my mind, and I tried to put it on paper as if the reader was following the camera. The inspiration, other than the Amarr, was of course in no small part Villeneuve’s Dune films.”

Enjoy.

"In the beginning all things were as one. God parted them and breathed life into his creation, divided the parts and gave each its place, And unto each, bestowed purpose" - The Amarrian Scriptures, Book I 1:4

Sand.

So small and yet so endless.

It rolled over itself pushed by the wind, upward, till the edge of the dune, before disappearing over the crest. The dunes were like a sea, slow yet unstoppable, moving towards the faraway sun. With patience and resilience, the sand overcame every obstacle and swallowed every opponent, sanding them clean of their sins.

High above, the sun, an infernal ball of fire, scorched the sand sea, as bright as only the power of God could be. Nothing could hide and survive its heat, for it reached everywhere at once, the night only a meagre respite.

“The Amarr people came into the world and the world came into being. Our illustrious ancestors freed their souls from the evils of the old world and created a new one.”

The words bestowed upon men by God itself resounded onto the vastness of the sand sea as, from its depth, aroused the creation of God: a mighty ship, slowly rising, sand falling from its top, whirling around it, prey to new winds.

Its beak-shaped bow cast a sharp shadow on the ground below, the massive engines on its stern made the sky tremble. The hull was the colour of the depths below the sand sea, as dark as the foundations of the world. It was the colour of the sand, as tan as the dunes it was rising from. It was the colour of God, as golden as the sun bathing the ship in its light.

“I give to you the destiny of Faith, And you will bring its message to every planet of every star in the heavens: Go forth, conquer in my Name, and reclaim that which I have given.”

The mighty ship was baptised with the words of God. Apocalypse was its name. To bring the message of God to every planet of every star across the galaxy was its purpose. A mighty ship for a mighty empire, rooted in the sand of its world and in the scorching light of God.

Below the mighty ship, troops were arrayed. They stood on a flat expanse of sand in between the dunes, straight and still, even with the sand buffeting them and with the ship looming from above.

“So the Lord sent forth the Chosen, to bring forth the light of faith. And those who embrace his love shall be saved by his grace. For we are his shepherds in the darkness, his Angels of Mercy. But those who turn away from his light and reject his true word shall be struck down by his wrath. For we are his retribution incarnate, his Angels of Vengeance.”

Row after row of men and women, their armours blended in the desert with their tan colours while the gold inlays absorb and reflect the light of God. The banners with the uncinate crown, symbol of the Empire, flapped proud in the grit wind.

They were the best of the Empire, they were the Chosen, they were the Angels of Vengeance. To hunt and cleanse those who turned away from the light of God was their duty. A single-minded force for a single-minded Empire, rooted in the sand of its world and in the scorching light of God.

“Surround yourself with the faithful. Stand together, for there is no strength like it under the heavens.”

As one, the troops moved. With a rumble, they turned. Landing ships were waiting behind each column and, as one, they marched up the ramps of the waiting ships. Once and only once the troops were on board, the landing ramps closed, and the landing ships arose in a whirlwind of sand. They headed upward, toward the waiting Apocalypse. One after another, they disappeared into its hangar.

It was time.

The ships turned slowly upward, the engines flared as they fought gravity, the beak no more pointing down at the sand but pointing up, toward the sky. It was time for the Chosen to head for the stars, reach out into the Heavens and bring forth the word of God.

For they were the Amarrians, the chosen, the most faithful servants of God.

Second place: Rixx Javix’s ‘The Acolyte II’

Rixx Javix's story is as unconventional as it is clever. Told from the perspective of a drone indoctrinated through its programming, it’s safe to say that it’s ‘pure sci-fi’ - it actually took us a couple of reads to get our heads around it, but once we did, everything clicked in the most satisfying way. It’s great stuff. Here’s a note from the author: 

“I wanted to try something different and the theme of drones being ‘abandoned’ is one that has sort of haunted me since I started playing EVE. This wasn't an easy piece to write for me, removing all emotion and yet trying to construct it so it left the reader with something to ponder was quite challenging. But I think it worked.”

>>>>>TRANSMISSION FAILURE<<<<< RECONNECT FAILURE

Acolyte II 11389764-A-0991 - ADRIFT - ABANDONED

SYSTEMS FUNCTIONAL - DAMAGE 0

ELAPSED TIME - 17 YEARS/14 DAYS/08 HOURS/23 MINUTES - ONGOING

RECOVERY - 0.000025 DECREASING

PRAYER/INITIATED - Hail Empress, Guiding Light, our Goal to Serve thee. Blessed are thou amongst the stars, and blessed is the bounty of thy labour, to Rule Righteously. Holy Drone, Tech One or Two, pray for our Empress, now, and at the hour of the Golden Sun. Amen.

MISSION/INITIATED - Acolyte II Master of Drone, Speed is Our Holy Weapon, Golden in the Light. We Are The Swarm of Righteousness. Protector of the Faith. Created by Golden Light and Armour to the Glory that is Amarr. Unquestioning. We Await Thine Order. Amen.

ENGAGE…

Third place: Bubba_EvE’s ‘Path to Redemption’

Our third-place Amarrian fan-fiction comes from Bubba_EvE. It’s a tale of redemption, guilt, liberty, but more than anything else, it tackles the powerful need we all share for a sense of belonging. Here’s a snippet:

As the crimson sun of Amarr Prime set behind the towering spires of the Imperial City, Archbishop Devan Keres stood alone on the balcony of his private quarters, watching the last rays of light fade into darkness. He had always been a devout follower of the Amarr faith, unwavering in his belief in the righteousness of the Empire. But lately, doubts had been creeping into his mind. Doubts that he could no longer ignore…

To continue reading Rixx and Bubba’s stories, check out the original submissions here.

EVE Online fan fiction: The Minmatar Republic

Winning story: Sturmer’s ‘Shadows of Freedom’

When it comes to EVE Online fan fiction set in the tribal and fierce Minmatar Republic, our winner is Sturmer and his story ‘Shadows of Freedom’, which is set in the runup to 2024’s Equinox expansion. We love the building tension and sinister ending, and believe that Sturmer captured the art of flash fiction: leaving readers wanting more. Enjoy!

1). Bad Omens

The dimly lit command deck of the Tribe Titan Maiori Kul-Brutor buzzed with activity. Wkumi Pol, the Tribal Chief of the Brutor, stood in the centre, his towering frame symbolising strength and resolve. Around him, holographic displays flickered with data, and the hum of the ship's massive engines resonated through the walls.

The door to the command deck burst open, and Sarvin Amuchum, Wkumi's young assistant, stumbled in, his breath ragged from running through the corridors from the dock. The messenger had just arrived on a speedy Leopard shuttle, bringing news that shocked the young man so deeply that he had forgotten all sense of decorum.

“Chief Pol”, Sarvin gasped, his voice trembling with urgency, “our messenger has just docked. The news... it’s dire: Acassa Midular has convinced the other leaders to vote in favour of the Upwell workforce transfers.”

Wkumi's eyes narrowed. “Calm down, my boy”, he said, his voice a deep, rumbling presence. “The news is indeed troubling, but we must remain composed. This decision marks a great failure on our part to protect our people from a new form of slavery.”

Wkumi turned to the large viewport, staring out into the expanse of space. “When I was your age, Sarvin, I had a dream...”

2). A Dream of Freedom

Wkumi's mind drifted back to his youth. He had dreamed of a free Minmatar Republic, unshackled from the chains of Amarr oppression. The Brutors had suffered the worst under the Amarr occupation, their natural strength and resilience were exploited for manual labour. But they had never broken. The fire of their spirit had only burned brighter, fueling their desire for freedom.

But now, as Wkumi looked out at the vastness of space, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were trading one form of slavery for another. The corporate grip of Upwell, cloaked in the promise of innovation and progress, felt no less suffocating than the chains of the Amarr.

3). The Plan

Wkumi returned his gaze to Sarvin, who watched him with wide, anxious eyes. “We still have time before the final vote”, Wkumi said, a flicker of hope igniting in his chest. “We have two weeks to open the eyes of our people. But we must tread carefully. A public dispute could shatter our unity and bring civil war upon our heads. The Tribal Council must act as one”.

Sarvin nodded, the determination in Wkumi’s voice sparking a fire within him. “What should we do, chief?”

Wkumi stood, his presence commanding attention. “We must inform our allies and prepare them for what’s to come. Quietly, discreetly. This battle will be fought in the shadows, not in the open. Prepare my Tribal Tempest, It’s time to visit some old friends.”

4). Gathering Allies

The next two weeks passed in a flurry of secret meetings and private conversations. Wkumi travelled from system to system, rallying support among the tribes. The Vherokior and the Thukker were wary but receptive. They had all seen the predatory nature of corporate greed and knew the dangers it posed to their hard-won freedom.

In the darkened corridors of the Great Caravanserai, the final vote loomed. The Tribal Chiefs gathered, their faces etched with concern and determination. Wkumi stood tall, his presence commanding attention as he addressed the assembly.

“Brothers and sisters,” he began, his strong voice echoing through the sacred hall, “we stand at the dawn of a new era. The choices we make today will shape the future of our people. The Upwell workforce transfers offer promise, but at what cost? Are we so quick to forget the chains we broke, the blood we shed for our freedom!?”

5). The Debate

Chief Acassa Midular rose in response, she was calm and composed. “We cannot turn our backs on progress, Wkumi. The freedom of choice is what we fought for. Our people deserve the right to decide their own fates, even if that means embracing new opportunities.”

A murmur rippled through the assembly. Wkumi clenched his fists, his resolve unshaken. “Freedom is not the same as trading one set of shackles for another. The allure of Upwell’s promises blinds us to the reality of corporate control. We must protect our people from this insidious threat.”

The debate raged on, each chief presenting their arguments with passion and conviction. As the final vote approached, the tension in the room was palpable. The fate of the Minmatar Republic hung in the fragile balance.

6). The Decision

In the end, the vote was cast. The Tribal Council’s decision was to permit the Upwell workforce transfers, but with strict regulations and oversight to protect the citizens from exploitation. It was a compromise, a delicate balance between progress and caution.

As the assembly dispersed, Sarvin approached Wkumi. “Did we do the right thing, chief?”

Wkumi placed a hand on Sarvin’s shoulder, a bittersweet smile on his lips. “Only time will tell, my boy. The fight for our people’s freedom is far from over. We must remain vigilant, ever watchful of the shadows that lurk around us.”

6). A New Dawn

The sun rose over the main arena of Matar, casting a golden glow across the landscape. Wkumi Pol stood at the edge of a landing pad, looking over the horizon. The future was uncertain, but he felt a renewed sense of hope. They had faced countless trials and tribulations, but they had always emerged stronger.

As the first rays of dawn touched his face, Wkumi whispered a silent prayer to the spirits of his ancestors: “Guide us, protect us, and keep our hearts true. For we are the children of Matar, and we will never be slaves again”.

With that, he turned and walked into his shuttle, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. The fight for freedom was a never-ending journey, but it was a journey he was prepared to undertake, for the sake of his people and the future of the Minmatar Republic.

7). Shadows of Conspiracy

Somewhere in an unknown location, a Redeemer Black Ops battleship emerged from the shadows to accept a lone frigate.

Minas Iksan, an Amarrian master spy, sat in the commanding post, his fingers steepled as he listened to the report. “Master, they accepted Upwell's offer. Our plan succeeded!”

Minas smiled venomously. “Oh yes”, he purred, “but the Upwell workforce program was just a pet project for the Drifters to be supplied with fresh corpses without gunfire. The main target was the Tribal Council, and I believe we have managed to plant a seed of discord in their hearts.”

The Redeemer initiated its covert portal, the ship vanishing into the unknown. As it disappeared, Minas's laughter echoed in the empty space, a chilling prelude to the chaos yet to come.

Second place: Celestial Flea’s ‘Insider’

In second place, we have CelestialFlea's story: Insider - a super enjoyable read framed as a covert intelligence report. It was a strong contender for first place, and we highly recommend you read the full story, which is linked below this snippet. 

“Obtaining accurate information about Ms. Joninn has been particularly challenging as she does not allow anyone outside of her tribe to get close to her without intense scrutiny via their vetting procedures. But from what I’ve been able to gather, she’s referred to as ‘The Matriarch’ - a position of leadership in a tribe that exhibits Brutor customs and ideology. I will therefore assume she is of Brutor descent.

“Though I suppose I should really be calling her organisation a cult at this point, as I’ve observed all of the behaviours you would expect of a cult; one that is growing in numbers. Some of their beliefs don’t seem to align with anything we’ve previously seen in the Minmatar.”

Third place: FirestormGamingTeam’s ‘In Rust We Trust’

In third place, we have a very worthy story from FirestormGamingTeam. It’s a high-octane piece full of action and raw emotion that tells the story of an escape via a Kerouac-esque stream of consciousness that works perfectly for the subject matter, emulating the tension of the situation as panicked thoughts rush through the protagonist’s mind. 

“Captive, hopeless, misery, wake up, work, whipped, back to your cell, food, sleep, rinse and repeat. Every day, your only friend the clink of the chains. Stagger, flag, searing pain across your back, whipped, for any reason.

“Explosions rock the night, alarms blare, soldiers running, more explosions, autocannon fire. It's a raid, they’ve found us, gunfire ringing, screams of pain, of agony, they’re executing prisoners, the true Amarr way. Another explosion rocks the block, cell doors become loose, a soldier at the door, panting, my energy revitalised at the prospect of rescue. After all these years.”

To continue reading Celestial Flea and FirestormGamingTeam’s stories, check out the original submissions here.

EVE Online fan fiction: The Gallente Federation

Winning story: PandoraRupture’s ‘Flight’ 

Next up, we have Gallente - New Eden’s idealists, democrats, and lovers of liberty. Our first-place prize goes to PandoraRupture for their high-stakes, high-energy action story that really puts the reader in the semi-human mindset of a capsuleer, capturing both the burden and thrilling rush of their unique capabilities.

There he stood, the last person I knew who could still help me and all of Gallente, Mentas Blaque. A fist, covered in blood, was reaching out of his back, from what looked like a simple sexdroid at first glance.

Without waiting for the android to react, I turned and started sprinting. To my capsule, to my capsule. Nothing else mattered now. If I died here, no one would know what was coming for them, and without my capsule, it would be a true death. No new body waiting safely in another station.

As I sprinted through the hallways, I could hear the android chasing me, but I wasn’t just anyone. I am a capsuleer. One of the few who made it, one who has crossed the final rubicon and abandoned my full humanity. A perfect body, a near-perfect mind, and more knowledge and training than anyone should have without living multiple lifetimes.

While an android could easily outrun a human with its top speed of 45 km/h (28 mph), I was hitting 55 km/h. I was constantly analysing everything around me, making sure to maintain the optimal speed to reach my destination. It was relaxing compared to the usual information overload I was accustomed to. I had already planned the exact route I would take as soon as I was in my pod. I briefly considered using the nanotoxin with the burning scanner to send my consciousness to my home station but decided against it.

The Leopard I’d parked here in the station, with a full high-grade ascendancy implant set in this body, would get me to my goal fast enough: 32.4 AU/s and a sub-2-second alignment time, something only a few capsuleers get to experience.

I was already getting a little excited about the speed I would reach once I departed. Giving it no more thought than necessary, I dropped to the ground face-first just as new holes appeared in the far end of the corridor.

Sliding across the floor with my momentum, I pulled out the Minmatar shotgun I’d acquired on one of my adventures, span onto my back, and fired twice, taking out two androids that had just emerged from opposing rooms with weapons drawn.

Lovely, every android was already infected. Let’s hope it's still limited to this station; otherwise things will soon look very grim for the Gallente Federation and, before long, for everyone else.

It wasn’t far to my capsule from here, and while disturbing more and more dock workers as I closed in on my exit, only minor resistance from androids required attention from my shotgun.

As I settled into my pod, I felt safe. Nothing could kill me now; I would just wake up in my home station, which was near the fourth moon of Luminaire 7 in the Federal Administration Bureau Offices.

Without waiting for the usual procedures and undock clearance, I flew my Leopard under an Obelisk so the automatic defence systems wouldn’t even register my exit from the station.

Once out, I jumped straight to the wormhole exit to get back to known space as soon as possible. The defensive fleet stationed outside the Citadel tried to lock onto me and my ship, but I was too fast. I hit faster-than-light speed before they could even get a lock.

All the secrecy and paranoia from Mentas Blaque and his Black Eagles didn’t help in the end. They trusted no one from the outside, and everyone on the Fortizar was one of them — well, except for the massive numbers of androids. Those androids would make quick work of the Black Eagles, I assumed. A quick calculation told me each person would face at least 30 androids if it came to an all-out fight.

There was no logical way they could survive the onslaught that would surely ensue. As I exited the wormhole, my information feed confirmed I was in Rens. I already knew I would end up here, but the pod loved to give you all the information it could, all the time.

One of the major reasons capsuleers were so rare.

Now I just had to make it to Egghelende and enter the Sinq Laison region before I could use a secure network station hidden in an asteroid field. I jumped gate after gate, taking the shortest route possible.

Rens, Abudban, Osoggur, Amamake, Siseide... just one more jump and I’d reach my goal. Every second counted, so I jumped straight to the next gate toward Egghelende, only to feel the nanotoxin being injected into my body.

A pirate with smartbombs had turned my Leopard into fireworks, followed by my capsule. My mind connected to the clone in my home station, but something felt off. The transmission was usually instantaneous, but this one felt long, strange, and uncomfortable.

I didn’t have the time to sit and interpret it. I needed to inform the remaining Black Eagle cells to take countermeasures as quickly as possible before their enemies could reach their goal. I boarded my Ares, and as I undocked, I was bombarded by various newsfeeds.

Normally, they would’ve been filtered out, but these were different. They bore the official signature of the Gallente Federation, denoting them as high-priority and guaranteeing their authenticity.

It was bad, very bad. Luminaire, also known as Caldari Prime, was gone. Not completely destroyed, but not a single soul was alive on the planet. Everything was ashes.

Then it dawned on me: ‘three days’. Three whole days had passed since my pod exploded, and my consciousness should have been transferred nearly instantaneously to my current location. But it hadn’t. It took three whole days.

And now, I have to make sure they pay for it.

Second place: Miyoshi Akachi’s ‘Voices of Gallente’

Miyoshi Akachi was a hair’s breadth away from winning another first-place prize with their submission, which shares the cinematic feel of their Amarrian story. The full tale reads, intentionally, like a propaganda movie, and it’s full of thoughtful touches and clever imagery that as a reader one feels one can almost touch. 

The place was crowded. People danced under the neon lights. The music thrummed and blared from the speakers, sweeping everyone away to another plane.

The crowd parted, oblivious, so taken with the music and the moment. The waiter, human and well-built, clean-shaven and bare-chested, showing the perfection of human musculature, walked silently. His glossy black trousers reflected the neon lights, winking as he knelt beside the couch, black, with green highlights. He held up a tray with a single glass on top.

She was lounging on the couch. Her platform heels hung from the edge. Her dress, reaching to the mid of her thigh, was black, shiny, and like a second skin for her sinuous body. A small eagle in green broke the darkness on her left breast. She took the glass the waiter had just brought her. Her hand was refined, her nails long and polished black, with a small eagle head as a dot of green on her index.

Third place: Sturmer’s ‘Alsavoinon Story’

Another talented writer, Sturmer is back on the leaderboard for Gallente with a story all about liberty, which as Sturmer notes is a complex topic. Here’s his author’s note: 

“Sometimes, mental liberation reveals something far bigger than we initially realise. That’s why I admire the Gallente, with their diversity and rich history. And yet, even with the vast Federation, there are dark corners, places like the lawless regions of Placid, where today’s story unfolds, reflecting on the lives of the inhabitants of such forgotten locales.” 

My brother never missed a chance to mock me for joining the Federal Safeguard Reserve (FSR). But honestly, sitting in a shiny CONCORD ship, staring at gates, feels about as useful as waiting for paint to dry. You float in the vacuum in circles for hours, then race off at the sound of a gunshot, only to find the victim already blown to pieces—or worse, it’s some poor pilot who made an accidental aggressive move, and now you’ve vaporised him for nothing. Hell of a job, right?

We grew up on the fringes of Gallente space, in Placid. Lost our parents early to a pirate raid, a story as old as time for those of us stuck in Lowsec. That’s what drove us both to join CONCORD, to fight the ‘bad guys’. Has it really been three decades? Feels longer.

To continue reading Miyoshi and Sturmer’s stories, check out the original submissions here. 

EVE Online fan fiction: The Caldari State

Winning story: Sturmer’s ‘Depths of Alsavoinon: A Sudden Turn’

The last of the four factions is the patriotic, capitalist, authoritarian, and militaristic Caldari. Sturmer earned a second first-place win with a continuation of his Alsavoinon tale. It expertly captures what draws so many to EVE Online: the thrill of tactical fleet combat. Here’s an author’s note: 

“This fan-fiction story continues from Depths of Alsavoinon: A High-Risk Rescue. While it can be read on its own, I highly recommend reading the first part for a broader perspective. All names, locations, ships, and modules are inspired by real gameplay events from EVE Online, providing a creative reimagining within its universe. I’ve added three more chapters and you can read the full story here: Depths of Alsavoinon: A Sudden Turn”

Chapter 1: A Legacy Fading

The engine’s rhythmic beat was calming, a familiar echo from days long gone. Back then, my family was a powerful corporation, Isuuaya Tactical, a gem in Caldari’s Crown. For 500 years, we were the Navy’s primary supplier of mines — who could’ve imagined that we’d become obsolete? Now, all that’s left of our former glory is this Phoenix-class Dreadnought, which I use like a mercenary, just to make a living.

The Admiral had given me vague orders: “Take a few ships from the militia and head to Alsavoinon. Check what’s happening there.” At least they provided a few covert scout craft and a full bay of fuel. I even managed to stow away some haulers filled with ammunition and supplies in the Dreadnought’s hangar. That “check” could mean anything, so I ordered to-fit: rapid torpedo launchers.

For three days, I’d kept my ship in warp, hidden on the nearby system’s outskirts, away from any scanners. The intel from my Buzzard pilot — what was her name again? Tomoko Aruki? — was promising. A talented navigator; I’ll keep an eye on her. She found a small Gallente gang, a couple of battleships with support ships, and the usual border guards at the gates. Nothing unbearable.

It seemed my Dreadnought was the biggest fish in the pond. But there were also a few Drifters. We still didn’t know their intentions, but scans showed at least one battleship among them. Deadly, thanks to their Doomsday weapon. How they managed to squeeze it onto a ship that small and power it is a mystery— we needed that tech!

Chapter 2: The Ambush

A short buzz signalled that the time had come. My officers on the command deck were ready. I called to my communication officer to confirm the operation status and connect me to our scout.

“Scout Aruki, status report.”

“Sir, they’ve arrived at Alsavoinon III as expected. Like the last three times, they’re cruising around for about 60 minutes before moving on. No indicators suggesting they’ll change the pattern.”

“Thank you, Miss Tomoko.” I softened my tone since we weren’t yet in combat. “Stay cloaked and keep an eye on them.”

“Affirmative!”

We’d been watching the patrol for days. They were too lazy to alter their route — amateurs! A Falcon-class Force Recon ship was hidden nearby to avoid needing to warp. The success of the whole operation depended on perfect synchronisation between the tackle wing and us. I called to my navigation commander:

“Mr Alfred, are we ready?”

Alfred was the most meticulous person I’d ever met — the crew joked he even counted the strokes of his toothbrush. But I appreciated his precision; it made him ideal for navigation.

“Yes, sir. H-hour in three minutes, forty-five seconds. I’ll light the countdown on the main screen, if you wish.”

“Go ahead.”

The plan was simple: the tackle wing, made up of eight Raptors, would warp in sync with a cynosural beacon. Once the Raptors scrambled their targets, my dreadnought would jump in to finish the job. I was only worried about the Falcon; we couldn’t afford to lose it. But I hoped our surprise attack would keep the enemy occupied long enough for the Falcon to escape.

Despite the militia status of my fleet, I trusted these pilots. They were exceptionally disciplined, and thanks to Miss Tomoko’s intel, each interceptor already knew their target’s name. It was just a matter of seconds to seize the entire Gallente patrol.

Combat would focus first on smaller ships — the frigates and destroyers, then the cruisers. There were two battleships: a Megathron and a Hyperion, with the latter likely carrying their commander. I planned to grapple and scramble it. Neither posed a real threat to my dreadnought, but the smaller ships could counter-attack our Raptors, so eliminating them first was critical to reduce casualties.

Alfred’s polite “H-hour in 10 seconds, sir” brought me back from my combat visualisation. I thought about giving an inspirational speech, but nothing came to mind other than a vague “Let’s do this, people,” so I remained silent.

As the timer hit zero, I gave the single command: “Jump!” The universe around us folded, then unfolded moments later as my dreadnought covered the distance of 1.2ly and appeared in Alsavoinon star system, near planet III.

As we materialised, there was a brief moment of serene silence before the sensors picked up incoming data, rendering it to my overview and scanners. Miss Tomoko had done an excellent job, marking enemy ships and preparing broadcast orders — all I had to do was confirm them.

Everyone was waiting for me to say that next powerful word, one that often meant life or death. With all the confidence I could muster, I gave the order: “Siege.”

A light shudder signalled the ship’s transition to its tactical configuration — stationary but vastly more powerful. The gunnery crews were now drawing on all internal resources, maximising the potential of their torpedoes. The damage control teams were boosting shield generators, drastically improving our resilience. For the next 600 seconds, we’d be sitting ducks, I reminded myself.

The battlefield looked promising. Our Falcon had escaped and, after re-warping to a safe distance, began jamming enemy sensors with its powerful ECM, protecting our Raptor pilots from Gallente blasters and railguns.

One Incursus frigate managed to slip away — it would likely call for reinforcements from the gates, but it wouldn’t matter. By the time they arrived, we’d have wrapped this up.

On my overview, we had both battleships tackled, along with three cruisers and two destroyers. They were the biggest threat to my interceptors. I gave my first attack command: “Primary Algos, secondary Catalyst, and we need target painter assistance to increase their signature.” And I added, “Leave the escape pods alive. We’re not pirates here to slaughter capsuleers.”

As I expected, thanks to target painters and the stasis webifier module, we nearly volleyed those destroyers and cruisers.

But that FRS Oneiros wouldn’t leave my mind. Why had it escaped so quickly? Something was definitely off! Then, alarms blared, denoting a change in the directional scanner readings.

“Sensor Officer, report!”

“Drifter ship signatures detected, sir. Location: near the sun, approximately 13 AU away, and they are moving.” After another agonising second of updated data, he continued, “Sir, they are moving towards us and will exit warp in 52 seconds.”

“Mr. Alfred, how quickly can we pull out of here?”

“Captain, our engines are not currently scrambled, and tactical overview indicates no remaining ships capable of scrambling us. However, the siege module cycle has two minutes and three seconds left, plus another 32 seconds to align and warp.”

“Command to all ships, hold your fire and disengage. I repeat, hold fire and disengage.” It was a tough decision, but I was running out of options. “Comms, patch me through to that Gallente Hyperion.” 

Second place: Rixx Javix’s ‘Investigative Report’

Next up, another unique and creative piece from Rixx Javix. This time, Rixx’s protagonist is a journalist, sent on a secretive assignment to New Caldari. What follows below is the intro, but as with the others, do check out the full story for a humorous and intriguing little tale.

They are selfless. Courageous. Dedicated. And they live at the edge of danger 24/7. But to most of the denizens of New Eden they don’t even exist. They are unknown. They are a mystery. And that’s just the way they want it.

But look closely at almost any public killmail, and you’ll see them. They are relentlessly perfect at combat. They are the elite squadron of faction police that guard the militia structures throughout lawless space, doling out tiny bits of damage to offenders and ruining the otherwise spotless solo attacks of pirate gangs.

Little is known about them, where they come from, what kind of training they get, and how they manage to maintain such a spotless record. So, in pure VICE style, we sent our own EVEOGANDA Reporter Andrea Cooper to New Caldari to find out more…

Third place: Miyoshi Akachi’s ‘Stately Attire’

We’ll end this EVE Online fan-fiction showcase as we started it, with Miyoshi Akachi. What we love about Miyoshi’s stories, aside from their consistently high quality, is that Miyoshi always takes advantage of the short story medium to try something new and unique. We’ve included a snippet of a story below in which Miyoshi paints a picture of the distinct yet unified denizens of the Caldari State.

The boots were sturdy and heavy, reaching up to the shin. They walked with decisive steps. They walked on a metal floor, the kind that saw many steps and much cargo moving, the kind that gathered dirt in the corners.

Beside them, another pair of shoes appeared, different: refined, with heels, polished, stylish. The steps were those of one who knew they were on top, of one leading and commanding respect. The floor was different as well, perfectly shining, reflecting the lights from above.

Another set of boots appeared, utilitarian, not as heavy as the first kind but neither as stylish as the second. They walked with the quiet confidence of one who knew how to do their work. The floor was cleaner and yet, utilitarian, just like the boots.

To continue reading Rixx and Miyoshi’s stories, check out the original submissions here. 

Share your appreciation for the authors in the comment section and let us know which EVE Online fan-fiction competitions you’d like us to run next. Currently, we’re deciding between the smaller factions like the Guristas or making the theme a famous event in EVE history. And if you can’t get enough of EVE’s factions, check out this stunning EVE Online faction propaganda or this article debating the best EVE Online empire to live in. 

Looking for more EVE Online fan fiction? We also have Tales of Love in Eternal Dark - EVE Online romantic fan-fiction, Dead Space! - EVE Online horror stories, Wormhole Wanderers - EVE Online wormhole fan-fiction, and Once Upon a Time in New Eden - EVE Online flash fiction.

Some text has been edited for brevity, clarity, or spelling, punctuation, and grammar. You can find the original wording here, here, here, and here. While you’ll have noticed a few authors recurring in our winning pieces above, we received a bunch of other great EVE Online fan fic that you can find via the links above. Image credit: Razorien on Flickr and author screenshots, courtesy of CCP Games.