9UY4-H SYSTEM
PROVIDENCE REGION

There was certainly not a lack of activity for the Ushra’Khan.

In the week since I had arrived, my inbox was flooded with training ops, roams, declarations of war, market updates, requisition requests, inventory deliveries and more. Every waking minute was filled with the hustle and bustle of life in nullsec.

I found it exhilarating.

I possessed only two fully fit ships at the time, the Hound I had arrived in, and the Hasimu, a Cynabal class cruiser I had jump cloned back to Rens to pick up. Once I got the hang of jump bridges (always leaving some liquid ozone behind to replenish the fuel used), and had committed our bridge network to memory, I quickly had discovered that Rens was only nine jumps away from our nearest bridge point; a lot more convenient than I thought living in nullsec would be.

While I still wouldn’t be making any large runs to Rens, as I wasn’t an industrialist, it meant I could bring out a lone ship with necessary supplies when I needed them.

The higher echelon of the Ushra’Khan quickly took notice of my natural problem solving abilities when it came to tactical and strategic planning, and I found myself overworked for six days straight, logging 98 hours of planning sessions with various fleets and key personnel. It was simply exhausting.

During one such marathon planning session, I mentioned that we should order ourselves some dinner, my treat. I was always one to lift morale when I could, and I had noticed every long stint out of my pod left me with a ravenous appetite. As it turned out, one of my favourite pizza places happened to be in station; a further testament to the Ushra’Khan and their ability to treat their people right.

I contacted the establishment, which had apparently just opened this location.

“Hello.” said a gruff and thickly accented voice on the other end of the comm.

“I’d like to place an order please.” I said, not sure I had the correct comm connection. I was used to businesses being overly friendly when answering, so such a curt response had caught me off guard.

“Ok.”

This was quickly becoming disconcerting.

“I’m looking to order a few pizzas please. I need beef with no olives. Do you have anything like that?” I already knew the answer was yes, as I had called up their digital menu only moments before contacting them.

“No. You make custom pizza.”

“Ooooo …. kkkk.” I replied, trying to keep my temper. Never get angry with those preparing your food, Roc’s Rule #280. “How about chicken with no olives?” Again, I knew the answer, but was really starting to question the ability of this worker to take a food order.

“No. You make custom pizza.”

I snapped my fingers to gain the attention of someone nearby, silently communicating with them to bring up the menu again.

“Let me make this easy.” I said, finding my annoyance levels quickly rising, “I’d like a large Capri and a large Milano. You’ll notice one is beef with no olives, the other chicken with no olives. Sound good?”

“Ok.” was the reply on the other, before hanging up.

I was very confused. Sure, they knew the address from the comm link, but I hadn’t given them my payment information.

I called back.

“Hello.”

“Yes, I just placed the order for the Capri and the Milano.” I said, throttling my anger back.

“Ok.”

“I’d like to pay via my credit account.”

“No. Our remote machine is not working for credit yet. You come here, pay by credit, then we deliver.”

I could feel the vein in my forehead and the one in my neck pulsating.

“So let me get this straight. You want me to walk down there, pay by credit account, then you’ll deliver the pizza back up here to me and probably charge me the delivery fee anyway?”

“Ok.”

I snapped.

“No it’s not ok! What kind of shoddy operation are you running? You don’t know you’re own menu, you don’t know how to properly answer a phone, you don’t even have your equipment up and running and you want your customer to come to you for delivery? Seriously, if I wasn’t so damned hungry I’d cancel the order right now!” I screamed.

One of my colleagues got my attention, holding up cash chits in his hand.

“Do you take cash?” I asked.

“Ok.” the pizza guy said before hanging up.

I was stunned, not sure if the order was cancelled, if it was coming, or what the hell was going on.

The next 44 minutes were a write off. I was unable to concentrate at all.

My colleagues wouldn’t let me answer the door when the pizza guy arrived for fear I might literally rip him a new one. Then the laughter started.

I walked into the kitchen to see what the fuss was about, my eyes settling on the pizza boxes that had been delivered. Hand-written, in permanent marker, on the top of the boxes, was their marketing message… “Hi, Eat more Amato’s” … yeah, like I would ever be doing that again.

After a few slices I was feeling better, and was eager to get back to work. The others wanted to call it a night, some feeling the need for a nap now that they had eaten, and out of good conscience, we wrapped up our session.

I was tired as well, but my anger kept me awake. I decided to walk along the promenade of the station, get myself familiar with my new home.

That is when I saw they had an Eve Online Poker station here …

I lost the next eight hours of my life to it, but I was up 16 million ISK…

It was going to be a long night.

“Authorization verified, welcome to Ushra’Khan Alliance Secure Channel.” Aura’s voice was melodic, almost soothing. I had forgotten the affect her programmed personality could have on a nervous capsuleer.

I admit it; I was nervous.

I had made a career for myself in New Eden by this point in my lives, and was confident in my celebrity. But this was the Ushra’khan I was part of now; an alliance that had survived Band of Brothers, GoonSwarm, CVA and more. They were the oldest alliance in the universe, and I had finally achieved membership within their ranks.

“Roc Wieler requesting a scout in V2 Freedom Forge. I’m ready to jump clone in from Dal.”

I was used to dealing with small corporations and alliances, and not getting a response for hours, if at all.

“You’re about to JC in from Dal, Colonel?”

“Yessir. Need a scout please.”

“To V2 you said?”

“Affirmative”

“Ok, let me scout for you, erm, ok, you can JC safely now.”

There was chuckling in the channel from other alliance pilots. An unfamiliar flush of warmth worked its way up my neck to engulf my head; I was embarassed.

“Thanks for the quick response, though I was referring to a scout to get me from V2 to wherever our frontlines are located now.”

“Ah, you’re trying to get to N8 then.”

“I suppose I am, yes.”

“Just use the JB.” another voice chimed in.

Using my eidetic memory, I quickly scanned my long term recall, trying to bring to the surface any knowledge I may have had of that acronym. Nothing. He must’ve meant JC for jump clone. It was my chance to impress my new brothers.

“I am ready to JC now, sir.”

There was a momentary pause, so I initiated my jump clone transfer to V2. It was always unnerving to willfully leave one body behind, only to blink and be present in a new and unfamiliar shell. I couldn’t even remember what state of general health I had left this particular one in.

The mild sensation of nausea passed, and I quickly assessed myself. No implants, as I was in nullsec, body reacted within normal reflex parameters, monitors showed a complete and successful transfer of me.

Stepping out of the clone chamber, I immediately could feel the creaks in my joints. I also could feel the weight on my feet was less than it had been moments earlier; obviously I needed to hit the gym with this clone.

“I’m in V2 now, JC safe. Thanks for the scouting. Would it be possible to get someone here to escort me?”

It was disconcerting how very empty the clone bay was and realized just how accustomed I had become to be waited on hand and foot during my service in the Tribal Liberation Force. There was always hustle and bustle in every militia station no matter the hour.

“Way to go. We’re all very proud of you.”

My face burned more crimson. I felt very green suddenly, inexperienced by comparison.

“So can I get a scout to N8 then?”

“Use the JB.” a new and more annoyed voice entered the conversation.

I realized quickly I had overstepped my own personal knowledge limits and quickly asked Aura what a JB was.

“Jump Bridge, or JB, is used in systems of 0.0 security to quickly traverse multiple systems. A beginning and an end are required to establish a Jump Bridge. Multiple connections are commonly referred to as a Jump Bridge Network. Often employed by alliances and …”

“Thanks Aura.” I cut her off.

Once again, I reviewed my learned abilities and expertise. There was nothing within my skill set that would make me more proficient with jump bridges. I had a bit of cyno training, that was it. The technology was probably very similar.

“I have some cyno training, but no relevant skills for using a jump bridge.” I felt very pleased with myself and my response.

“Who the hell recruited this guy?”

I felt a churning in my stomach; that sensation where you don’t quite want to vomit, nor quite sit on the crapper and experience the explosive result.

“Roc, you don’t need any skills to use a bridge. You just warp to it, enter the alliance password, and away you go. Doesn’t get any easier than that.”

I could take a good ribbing. I had a sense of humour. I knew I was the small fish in this new, big sea, and I could accept that. Still, the conversation seemed to be trending towards condescension and belittlement, which wasn’t indicative (to me at least) of a high degree of professionalism within an organization.

Maybe joining the U’K was the wrong decision.

“Alright ladies, knock it off. Set a good example for the Colonel; he deserves that. Roc, let’s take this convo private, and I’ll help you get up to speed with life in nullsec.”

“Appreciate that, sir.”

“And yeah, knock off that sir crap. Doesn’t fly out here.”

I spent the next several hours learning the jump bridge network maps, where U’K stockpiled ship parts and resources, and various other daily essentials for life in Catch.

Quick apology to my readers via the awesomeness that is Capsuleer.

Little hiccup when rolling my blog over to www.rocwieler.com that resulted in a few missed posts. All sorted now.

Please visit the site via the interwebs to get caught up on things, including Roc’s Tyrannis Contest winners!