“What do you mean it’s the wrong one?” I growled. “Imma telling ya Colonel, she’s not the extra large.” my Chief Mechanic barked back at me. “Yer contact pulled the ol wool oer yer eyes.” I was fuming angry. I had been sold a LARGE Gist-X Shield Booster, not the X-LARGE as advertised in the contract. How was that even possible? A billion ISK out of pocket. I paced back and forth angrily, barely able to maintain focus enough to devise a solution to this dilemma. No wonder my team had no problem fitting it to my ship. I just wanted to scream.

“Imma fraid there’s more bad tidings fer ya as well lad.” What else could there possibly be? I was already out most of my earnings from the last six months, stuck with a part I didn’t even want. I would have to see if I could unload it on the market at some point. “What is it?” I fumed.

“Well I did some research on Luther Veron fer ya. And I don’t be thinkin’ hela be givin’ you any parts soon.”

“And why is that?” I snapped.

“He was beheaded nearly two years ago.” 

I deflated completely.

How could I have been so grossly incompetent in my planning? My Claymore sat there, a hunk of worthless metal to me right now, taunting me with failed visions of grandeur. She was going to be my flagship. Now I was going to have to start my fittings schematics all over from scratch.

This time, I would verify everything was obtainable before letting my mind go crazy with pipe dreams.

“Iva already started modifying the fittins.” It was like he could read my mind sometimes. “And?” I retorted.

“We’re lookin’ close to twenty billion fer the best o what’s out thar.” TWENTY BILLION??? How in the hell was I going to come up with twenty billion isk? I felt my knees weaken. My dream was being repeatedly shattered, until comprimise after comprimise left me with just an average Claymore. 

My heart was distraught. 

I was just a naive fool, trying to live beyond his means. No ship is worth twenty billion isk. I would have to come up with another idea for the Claymore.

What a noob.