|Posted - 2010.10.05 05:24:00 -
The light glow of the Datapad told him what he had already suspected. The earlier skirmish of the day had left his hanger pretty much devoid of any fitted ships. He had some hulls, of course. He had thought at least that far ahead. No Capsuleer can ever undock in his early days without that word of wisdom from the veterans 'Don't fly what you can't afford to lose...' and such.
It was good advice. Sound advice.
Yet he failed to consider to have ships ready for that inevitable day when his ship would pop and his pod would crack like an egg. There is a moment there just before the automatic systems kick in, copying what memories he had before transmision where he would see the open void before him through the hull breach of his pod. There are those who might say he imagines it...that he was scanned and the body 'terminated' before that happens as his conciousness is transmitted to his new body.
He knows what he sees though, despite what is said...and fire in zero gravity moves like a liquid, crawling like something beautiful and alive.
And then...awake in some vat in some station.
With an empty hanger.
And Three days downtime until he gets at least one ship up to his specs. He could have it more quickly then that, but that costs isk and isk (for the moment) is precious.
Not so precious at least that he couldn't part with some at the station's local bar. Paying tech's overtime was one thing. A few evening's enjoyment and relaxation was another.
He would seek out an establishment where fellow capsuleer's would frequent. Every staion of worth would have one, somewhere, and he had come to the realization that in all the time he had been accepted, trained, and then...released as a fully fledged capsuleer he had never before bothered to seek out others unless it was ship to ship. It was a balance of extreems...he placed other capsuleer's into two categories.
Those who were target locked and those who were only two heartbeats away from being target locked.
It was only when he stared at his empty hanger that he wondered if there was anything else beyond those two categories. Those who were actively shooting at him, and those who would the moment it would benefit them to do so.
Paranoia? Yes...and No. Its complicated...and this is Eve...and for whatever reason he had he wanted to see other capsuleer's face to face. Outside of ships.
He entered and was...obviously...Amarrian. It was hard not to spot him for what he was from thirty yards away. He would take note of who was present, grab a drink and a table and set up some cards.
Whose up for a game?