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.

That was incredibly satisfying. I laid a fair amount of ISK across the clerk’s desk to cover  expenses, then walked out of the video arcade, a huge smile on my face. 

“I love video games.” I thought to myself with childlike glee.

20 minutes earlier

I hadn’t been back to the Hole in days now. Have you ever tried finding a new bar to call your own? It’s not as easy as you might think. I could ramble on about just that.

I had been wandering around the esplanade on this station in Rens VI for almost two hours without much luck. Oh ho, what’s this? An interweb cafe? Cafe made it sound a little gay to me, but I chanced a venture inside. 

Not really a bar, but it provided public access to the interweb. It apparently also allowed for locally networked gaming. When I was younger, I really enjoyed video games. Flight simulators were my favourite. It’s one of the reasons I became a pod pilot. I decided to sit down and play some games.

I couldn’t find any flight sims, but there was a first person shooter game in progress called “Mortal Fatality Fighter Instincts Turbo” so I decided to join in. 

I lost my first game in under 20 seconds. I figured there must be something wrong with my user interface device, so I moved to another terminal. 

I lasted 30 seconds in the next round.

Something was apparently faulty. I’m good at videogames; or at least I thought I was. I kept losing to someone named l1kmy@ss1128. I didn’t know what kind of name that is, even on the interweb.

After a few more matches, I was getting pretty frustrated. I am a determined one though; I hate giving up until I win. I had just lost another match when I saw a little message window popup on the screen. “Why don u go home loser?” it said. I could feel my eye tic startup, and the vein in my forehead begin to throb. I quickly typed in my reply. “Let’s go again.” We did, several times, with me losing painfully each time. And the ridicule continued, becoming more insulting, more abrasive and more difficult to decipher each time.

“U r a fag. U fukin suck balls.”*

I was furious. “Listen you little snot,” I typed. “If you weren’t hiding behind your system, you wouldn’t think you’re so tough then, believe you me.”

“Oooooo, im so scared of you faggot. Let me call my friends over so they can watch me kick your ass again.”

If I ever, and I mean EVER, found out who this punk was, I would … wait, what was that sound?

I listened again. I could hear teenaged boys laughing, then the word ‘faggot’. I slowly stood from my station, and looked in the direction of the sound. There were a group of five teenaged Caldari boys at another unit in the cafe. I could hear their conversation.

“And then he says he’ll kick my ass if he ever found me, so I told him he’s a faggot.” They all laughed.

Really? I mouthed a quiet thank you to God, whom amongst the trillions of inhabitants with access to the interweb, blessed me enough to have my dumb idiot seated in the same gay cafe as me.

I quietly stood up and slowly made my way to where they were. I had to keep clenching and unclenching my fists to keep myself focused, the excitement almost too much for me to bear. When I reached them, I simply asked “Excuse me, l1kmy@ass1128?”. The seated Caldari turned reactively to see whom was addressing him. Thank you!

I placed my large hand on top of his head, pushing flat against the skull before closing my fingers into a tightly balled fist. This ensures that the head hair is pulled from the root, not just loose strands. It allows you much better control of your opponent. 

“Round One!” I yelled, trying to sound like the game announcer.

I then quickly and effortlessly placed his face through his monitor. There was smoke, sparks, and a bit of noise, but otherwise nothing. The boy passed out. Yeah, I thought as much. And what was that smell? Was that urine? Oh man. I turned to the other four. “Anyone else?”

They were all white as ghosts, shaking their heads profusely, hands in surrender, backing away. I turned back to l1kmy@ass1128, and leaned my head close to his ear.

“I win, bitch.”

* editor’s note: all teenaged asshats quote will be translated into readable English.

“She’s almost ready, Colonel. And she’s gonna be a beaut,” my chief mechanic said. Your configuration for ‘er, it’s a bit pricey, so we may not be’un ready with that, but we’ll has ya a fine ship.”

“You’ve sourced it through all our usual channels?” I inquired. 

“Aye. She’s gonna be 4 billion ISK to do up the way ya want.”

Four billion ISK. I simply didn’t have that much, and I knew my corporation nor the Tribal Liberation Force would invest that kind of coin. 

“Well, do what you can. We’ve got what, two days until you’re done?”

“Aye. Closer to three, but who keeps track of the minutes?” He smiled at me, knowing I paid attention to those kind of details.

“Very good. Carry on.”

I simply stared at the Claymore. My crews had been working hard on this ship for almost a month, and soon it would be ready.

While I couldn’t get the parts I wanted, I was still excited about the ship. It had been a lot of training for all of us, but I knew it would be worth it.

Now if only I could find the parts I really wanted for this ship.

I picked up a nearby datasheet, and reviewed the list:

Gist-X-Type X-Large Shield Booster
Gist-X-Type Shield Boost Amplifier x2
Luther Veron’s Modified Invulnerability Shield x2

Yeah, those were going to be hard to track down, and expensive. I might have to try new channels. Maybe with all my recent public visibility, I’d be able to get them.

The anticipation was great. I wondered where I could start in my quest for these parts… what new contacts I had made who would volunteer to help me…*

*editor’s note: wink, wink, nudge, nudge