Last night I ganked a T2 Hulk, hauling in millions of ISK in modules for my courtesy. Oh, how I savored that! Today, I got a taste of my own medicine.
I had some buy orders up in highsec space for supplies: several more Incursus frigates, some T2 guns, ammo, modules, etc. In addition to fitting more frigates for the day I'll need them, I am starting to gather the fittings for my next ship, the famed Thorax cruiser; so I had some T2 guns and fittings for some of those as well. On a friend's account, and using his Bestower, I loaded up a cargo-hold full of goodies and headed to my home system, a lowsec system just adjacent to highsec space.
Now, I'm used to zipping around lowsec without too many worries. In my frigate, I tend not to get caught at game camps and what not. Frigates are fast, and probably often deemed not worth tanking sentry guns for. Bestowers, on the other hand, are slow industrial ships. My complacency reared up its ugly head and bit me.
I got that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomache as soon as I jumped in to lowsec. Two Drakes were sitting a dozen kilometers away. Not good. Still, I was cloaked, and with any luck at all I'd be in warp before they could scram me. So I targeted my station (I could see home from here!), and by engaging my warp engines I dropped cloak. Heartbeats went by, and I was gratified to see my heads-up display indicating that warp engines had engaged. Then, sickeningly, I saw one of the Drakes targeting me...lock me...saw text informing me that I couldn't warp because my engines were scrambled. I knew right then that I was doomed.
So, Yes! I can dish it out. Just know that I can take it, too. I lost millions of ISK when my friend's Bestower went down (and I'll have to reimburse him for that). But I didn't whine, I didn't threaten, I went to my fate stoicly (if by "stoicly" one means frantically stabbing at the "dock" icon, hoping to save one's capsule). I maintained my dignity. No ransom was asked or offered (my cargo wasn't worth that much ISK).
It was gratifying to overhear in local, as I licked my wounds in the station, that my aggression-flagged attackers were themselves ganked, greedily picking over my cargo as they continued to take fire from the sentry guns. And so goes the circle of death in EVE space....
The last I saw of my wreck, there were still three Incursus frigates in the hold, too large for any of us to salvage.