For once, I felt well rested. I was sorely feeling my age last night so I turned in early. My lower back has a bit of a pinch in it this morning; I’ll need to watch my form next workout to make sure I’m keeping my core tight when doing back exercises.

I was heading to “work” already. The Amarr don’t sleep, so why should we? On the way, I decided to stop off at my personal hangar. I wasn’t surprised to see my Chief Mechanic already elbow deep in grease when I arrived.

“How’s it coming with the Claymore?” I asked over the sound of pneumatic tools. He paused for a moment, lifted his safety goggles, dismissed his construction drone, then took a deep breath. “Well, I’un dun got thar new Gist X booster installed fer ya. She’s a right beast she is, but she’ll keep ya well shielded. Had to cram yer hold full of cap boosters to feed er though. We also managed to sync weapons controls directly to yer egg, so ya can be grouping them now fer volley firing. Will pack more of a wallop to yer punch, and reduces the strain on ya while flying. Ye gots enough to be worrying about.”

I smirked. He always had to outdo himself. Weapons linking would indeed be a benefit. It would stop me from having to focus on each weapons team individually, pushing my thoughts as orders to the appropriate systems. Being linked, I could just push my will once, and all appropriate personnel would respond simultaneously. I liked that.

And they got that shield booster in. I was honestly quite surprised it fit. I didn’t even want to know what they had to do to manage that. Damn thing cost me a billion isk. And that’s just one of the five parts I still desired for this ship. I went over the list in my mind:

2x Gist X Shield Boost Amplifier
2x Luther Veron Modified Invulnerability Field

So far, I hadn’t found either of these items on the markets, or through public contracts, or through some of my private contacts. It was almost as if they didn’t exist. And that just wouldn’t do.

After some minor shop talk with my mechanic about some other alterations to my ships, something to do with quantum mechanics, new CONCORD standards, the latest craze for all the hotshot pilots, etc, etc, I left him and his team to return to their work, and I headed to mine.

I was the first to arrive to Freeform Industries HQ this morning, which wasn’t surprising. Lights came on automatically as I entered rooms, and I quickly made my way to my designated office. It wasn’t a large office compared to the directors of the company, but it didn’t really matter. I was quite utilitarian anyway. There was a small basic desk with a metal chair, a neural interface built into the desk. There was nothing else on the desk, and two boxes on the floor I hadn’t unpacked since joining the corporation. To be honest, I hardly ever spent anytime in my office so what did it really matter? I plugged myself into the terminal, and was soon walking the interweb. I saw my marketing partner had left me a message, so viewed it.

“Heya Roc” her image started. “Since that Amarr attack in Gallente space, the market’s been in turmoil. I’m gonna scale back our risk factor a bit, and cautiously keep our business venture going until things stabilize. Commodities are shifting all over the place, so best to go slow. Talk to you soon when I see how this flows.”

Damn. She was my moneymaker. Those remaining parts seemed a little further out of reach. I might have to see what agents were around, or what tasks the corp needed done. Being a military man was my calling, but I still needed to look out for my own personal needs as well. Eventually, this blasted war would end. There was another message from our office manager. “A reminder note to all employees to please decorate your offices. Adding a personal touch to your work area creates a positive environment for everyone. Blank walls and unpacked boxes are not conducive to a team environment.” Subtle, considering I was the only one with a stark workspace. Meh, I’d deal with that another time. Or not.

I read the newsfeeds, continually cursing the Amarr under my breath. Just thinking about them for too long gave me headaches.

I shut down my system, locked my office, and made my way to the Republic Milita hangar on this station. My Fleet Stabber was still docked and primed, ready for action. I might not have as much respect for the patchwork these military grease monkeys did as for my own chief mechanic, but they were fast for military grunts, and always had a ship ready for me. I noticed things seemed to be unusually busy in the workbays this morning.

I made my way to the militia office, throwing salutes when required, until eventually I was seen by a commanding officer I had worked with before. “Colonel,” he began, as I made a crisp salute. “Good to see you here.” We broke salutes. “You’re not due to report for duty until 0900, another few hours yet, but I’m glad you’re here.” He wasn’t the most brilliant tactician I had ever met, but was perfectly suited for this clerical role. He never forgot details, and always knew exactly who should be where and when. “We’ve lost two recon wings near Gallente space. Now as the Gallente are our allies, this is troublesome, given the recent hostile activity of the Amarr towards them. I need someone with experience out there. Someone who can tell me what the hell is going on, and if we’re still on the same side or should be preparing for more grief.” 

“I can have my crew prepped and launched in 37 minutes, sir.” I replied. I too appreciated exactness and detail. 

“Very good, Colonel. Mission specifics will be ready when you are.” And with that, he turned and walked away onto more pressing matters.

I tapped the comm implant on the side of my head. A small HUD appeared on my retina, and with a few mental choices, I was hooked into my crew’s quarters loudspeakers. “Morning ladies,” I began, my voice echoing with booming results. I called off the roster required for this expedition, and told them they had fifteen minutes to report for duty. I clicked the comm implant off.

Looked like it was going to be another busy day. “A day of change.” I thought for reasons unknown.