I sat in a local medcenter after the magtrain incident. I took a good shot to the jaw, which was now clicking whenever I shifted it. I also managed to bust the skin of my knuckles open, probably from repeatedly punching my fist into the side of the head of one of those two Brutor teens. I was like a battering ram to the temple, which sounds a lot more mystical than it was.

Anyway; the magtrain was delayed for twenty five minutes. At first, the people were pleased with my actions, some even clapping as the train security came and removed the two hoodlums; then the conductor announced the delay, which soured their mood. I’ve said it before, and I will say it again; people are fickle. When we arrived at the central station stop, the last stop for that particular train, the same security team that had removed the punks from the train, was waiting for me on the platform. I figured local authorities would’ve been called if it was something serious, so didn’t even break stride as I egressed from the train.

“Sir, would you mind if we asked you a few questions?” one of the two private security officers asked. “Not at all.” I replied. “We just wanted to hear your account of what happened on the train, as the two offenders are both saying that you attacked them. Is this true?”

I could tell from his tone, and the way his eyes shifted and fidgeted around in their sockets that he really didn’t want to pursue this matter further. “Look at me.” I began flatly. “I’m smaller, older, and a helluva lot more tired than either of them is I wager. I’m already thinking of going to the medcenter to make sure they didn’t bust up my insides. Do I really look like the kind of guy that would start a fight?” I almost couldn’t get through that sentence with a straight face. They looked at each other for a few moments, quietly talked amongst themselves, then delivered their verdict. “We figured as much. It’s pretty obvious how it went down. Trash like them lying to try to get out of their situation is typical. And if you need a ride, sir, I’d be happy to take you to the medcenter.” Ah crap. I actually had no intentions of going to the medcenter. It was just a few scrapes and bruises; it would heal quickly. “That would be very kind of you, son.” I said, trying to sound older and more frail than I really was.

And that was how I got here. There were worse things than waiting for medical treatment. Besides, the attending nurse was rather attractive. She had batted her eyelashes at me more than once already; and from her physical manner it was easy to tell she was interested in me. As she finished applying disinfectant nanites to my knuckle wound, I eased into my pickup line. “Am I gonna live?” I asked with mock sincerity. She laughed a beautiful laugh, her eyes alight with fire and passion. I was already aroused. She held my hand in hers, lifting it closer to her face. She squinted her eyes, crinkling her nose, as she examined my knuckles. “Well, I’m not a doctor,” she intoned with an inflection as silky smooth as honey, “But I think you’re perfectly fine.” She smiled a coy devil’s smile at this, and “accidentally” let my hand fall against her chest before acting surprised and blushing. I decided to go in for the kill. “I have read that physical affection can often aid in the healing process. Do you know if that’s true?” I stood up, looking her directly in the eyes, my smoldering gaze penetrating her. She moved towards me, to give me a hug, and I began to reciprocate. I reached to hold her close, to enjoy the feel of her against me; to heighten the sexual tension and excitement between us both; to take this little flirtatious game to the next level; to … be patted on the back and burped like an infant? WTF?

Ladies, please; when you hug a man, do it right. Let him get a good squeeze of you. Why else do you think he’s hugging you? The “burp me” hug is near the top of the list for affection faux pas; right up there with limp wristed handshakes. If you’re going to do something, do it with all your passion, or why do it at all? Especially if you like the guy.

So now things were awkward. In the space of one bad hug, I went from aroused and interested to uninterested and second belly button. If this was how she hugged, she probably made love like a Gallente; you know, dead and motionless.

I politely thanked her and scurried away, not giving a second glance behind me to see her standing there, bewildered. I hightailed it out of there quicker than an Amarr cruiser fleet encountering two Minmatar frigates.

I don’t really care if I was politically correct. I don’t really care if I upset or hurt her. Why? Because.

You will know if I am affectionate towards you. There will be no room for doubt in your mind. I demand the same in return.

I give my all; you give yours.

Despite my constant sarcasm and cynical view on things, I am actually a content and happy man in most respects. I like the person I am. I like the life I’ve built for myself. I enjoy my work. Even still, there are times when all the negatives in life simply weigh down on me. I’ve had some people tell me “Well don’t let things bother you.” or “Just let it slide off of your shoulders.” But that is simply not me. I work through issues. Setting things aside doesn’t resolve them, in my opinion. It only sets them aside, often allowing them to choose when to come back and bite you in the ass, usually at the most unexpected times. So no, when something is pressing down on my heart and mind, I work through it until it no longer has any power over me.

Three days ago was the annual remembrance gathering for my people to pay tribute to the many Matari that fell to gain our people freedom in the great war. I was there of course, as I am every year. This year was different for me, and particularly emotional, though you wouldn’t have known had you seen me. This year we’d gone to war ourselves, against the very same enemy. For generations there was a fragile peace. Now there was only pain and suffering. This year I achieved the rank of Colonel, something I had dreamed of for a very long time, something my own father told me to never wish for. “Pray you never even need serve in the military” he would say. My father served a minimum tour of duty when he was younger. I figured his words were those of a coward. He was right though. The things I’ve seen in this war, the deeds I’ve done. I never imagined such atrocities existed, or that I would engage in such despicable acts myself without hesitation. I felt closer to my great great great grandfather this year, the first Colonel Wieler in our family line. I felt like I had a better understanding as to what type of man he was, to what type of man I had become. Like I said, I am a happy person, but life was weighing me down.

I heard from Sam yesterday. His voice wavered and crackled. You could hear him crying. My bitter views got the best of me again. My immediate assumption was that he had been kidnapped; that the Amarr were torturing him, and I already had at least fifty different rescue scenarios worked out in my mind based on whatever was going to be said next. Instead, Sam shared with me a family tragedy he was going through. It hit me hard. Not just because Sam was my friend. Not just because deep down I am actually a caring person. It hit me hard because it pulled up all kinds of unresolved memories from when my best friend died on April 24th of this year. I know, I know, I said I don’t push things aside; work through them. Well, add hypocritical to the list of things weighing heavy on my shoulders. I simply couldn’t resolve those feelings at the time, so forced them deep down, in order that I could function. We need to function as people. If we don’t, it alienates those closest who would help us in the darkness. At the time that might seem like a good idea, I know it has to me in the past, but it doesn’t serve us well in the long run. So as those unresolved emotions flooded me while I listened to Sam, I found myself crying, a true rarity, and as he ended the conversation, I just sat on my sofa sobbing, remembering vividly the pain I felt when my best friend passed away; the pain I still feel each and every day. It’s a feeling of uselessness; of being completely powerless. It’s not a sensation I enjoy. I bought a ring when my best friend died. On the inside, it has his name, birthday and death date. My fleet knows that if I get podded, they are to recover my corpse. Morbid as that may sound, I haven’t lost that ring. So yes, I understood what Sam was going through.

Then there’s work. Our CEO had apparently been fighting a serious illness for months, off and on, and I didn’t even know. Just goes to show how self absorbed I could be. Some of the junior roles in the corp whispered that it’s Jovian sickness, but to me that’s a load of bunk.

And yet I am fortunate in so many ways. There are so many supportive people out there believing in me, in my potential, in everything I do. And I am appreciative. And yet it’s just something more for my broad shoulders to bear. Expectations.

All these thoughts and more filled my mind as I swayed back and forth, part of the rythmic motion that came from travelling on the magtrain. I just needed to get out of pod for a bit. I needed some open space to clear my thoughts, to find happiness in the midst of life’s storms. The irony isn’t lost on me that a crowded train isn’t exactly open space, but it is what it is, and there I was.

I overheard a commotion and turned around. When a magtrain stops at a station, each car of the train has a set of sliding doors that open to the adjoining platform. A small warning chime sounds to let would be passengers know the doors are about to close, and they will have to take the next train. Seated between one of the doors happened to be two teenaged Brutors, with multiple body piercings, trendy and meaningless tattoos, and a fistful of attitude. Their legs were stretched across the entryway, forcing passengers to physically step over the two brutors’ legs to get on or off the train. One of the teens had a Guristas logo across his ripped TShirt, while the other spouted obscenities at nearby people. Laying where their feet met was a backpack, a further hindrance to those wishing to enter or leave the train.

I politely and slowly made my way towards that doorway; it took a few stops. I took another evaluative glance of the two thugs. “What the fuck are you looking at old man? You want to suck my fucking cock or something?” His associate laughed as if this was the funniest thing ever said. I turned away slightly, much to their satisfaction. “That’s right.” the more vocal and articulate of the two said. They were easily younger than me by fifteen years; and each of them looked more solid, and taller than me, though it was hard to be sure with them seated. But you know the rule:

“Never start a fight you can win.”

As the chime sounded, and the doors to this car of the magtrain began to close, I took action.

I quickly punted their backpack out of the doorway, just before the doors sealed shut. I ignored the string of obscenities that followed, and the forthcoming threats as they stood to face me. They were indeed both much bigger than me. The one on the left stood with his feet facing slightly outward; means he has weak knees from improper walking posture. One on the right wore about six pounds of facial jewellery; need I say more?

I could feel the rage starting to consume me as I cracked my knuckles and walked towards them. This was exactly what I needed right then to distract myself from my worries. This was going to be fun. 

Life is not a fairy tale. There are no magical happy endings. Life can be an adventure however; it is what we make it, like so very many things. A part of me was saddened that it had come to this; one Matari teaching two others a lesson; that we were reduced to fighting amongst ourselves. It’s this ignorance and lack of basic respect for one another that starts wars in the first place.

Yet there we were. And for me, right then, right there, it was a simple happiness.

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.

“You’re insane you know.” Sam said to me. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” I replied without missing a beat. We both chuckled at our banter. “If you don’t stop making jokes, you’re gonna make me drop these weights.” I grunted out between repetitions. As I finished twenty reps, I put the barbell back across it’s holding stand, and sat up from the bench. That felt good. Two hundred and twenty pound bench presses, sets of twenty. I don’t care what people say. For all the wonderful electronic muscle stimulation, clone grown musculature out there, nothing beats good old fashioned free weights. “And when are you gonna actually to do something at the gym, besides flapping your gums at me while I work out?” 

It was hard to believe Sam and I had only known each other a few months. The way we carried on, you would think we had been friends our entire lives. “Hey, I’m the brains, you’re the pretty remember?” He winked at me, and we both broke into laughter anew. That is what started this entire debate. “Well, at least that explains why your head’s so damn huge.” I grunted. “But seriously, do a set. It’s good for the soul. I’ll even drop the weights to girly level for ya.” I started removing weight plates, but Sam waved me off. “I’m fine, Roc, but appreciate the offer. Now back to business, there’s no way in hell you’re gonna do it.” He had a snicker on his face. “And why not?” I retorted with an equally mischievious grin.

“Admit it, you love all the attention you’ve gotten in the media. The commercials, the young female fans, the kickbacks. You’re just eating it up.” Sam was cutting at me deep. He knew how awkward I sometimes felt around others. Sure I could hold my own in conversation if it was a topic I had knowledge and passion for. Otherwise, count me out. I’d rather be hiding under my bed. “You know that’s not true, Sam. Take it or leave it really. I could care less.” That was somewhat true. Sure, I had never planned on even having my name recognized. Why would I? I’m just another soldier in another war. If anything, fame had cut me deeply. Not only did it make me primary target everywhere I flew now, but it stripped me of any privacy I had when travelling in Republic space. And I was one for my privacy.

“Uh huh. And the young hot girls that get you to sign their…ahem?” Sam was funny sometimes. When he would get frustrated trying to figure out some programmatic issue, he could muster together a string of curses that would make me blush, but when he was conscious of his thoughts, he couldn’t even say the word boob without turning crimson. “Well, there has to be SOME perks.” I emphasized. We both laughed some more, and finished up my workout.

As I headed for the showers, Sam asked me again, doubt heavy on his voice, “You really gonna do it?” 

I gave it some thought one more time. The answer that kept coming to mind was “Why the hell not?” I simply nodded to Sam.

“This is about Mynxee isn’t it?” he put forward. “Not at all, Sam. If it’s about anyone, it’s for you.” I winked his way flirtatiously, and we both broke out laughing. 

“Alright, well when you do it, I want to be the first to see.” he said. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, you think I don’t know you’re my biggest fan?” I waved goodbye to Sam, and hit the showers, leaving his laughter behind.