The View From August
“Keeping a relationship, much less leasing a condo, with the Angel Cartel is a bold move given how many times you’ve had… disagreements… with them and their friends. Their agents in this station are a bizarre bunch. Next time you need me to fly half way across the universe with no escort in a hunk of junk like that Velator you gave me I’m going to make you tell me what we’re up to before I leave. And it’s going to cost you a lot more.” I owed joypunk a drink, and we were enjoying Litomerae, the best spiced wine the legendary vineyards of Litom V had to offer. The only place in New Eden to get this particular vintage is where we found ourselves sitting; the Tower Bar in the remote outpost that had been controlled by the Angel Cartel for as long as anyone alive could remember. Originally of Gallente design, the monstrous station featured a roughly 5,000 acre temperate biodome that settled between the observation deck in the Tower Bar and Litom, an impressive red giant star that gave two deep-space outposts and eleven planets a place in the abyss to call home.
For now, this station would serve as our headquarters, and the Tower Bar was our conference room. It wasn’t ideal, but it was a good measure better than the Minmitar outpost in the same system and far better than where we were coming from. Known for its less savory endeavors, the Minmitar station was more likely to lose your property than protect it. No, for the time being, Litom XI — Moon 2 — Guardian Angels Assembly Plant would be our much needed oasis.
joypunk and I had been business partners for a long time. We’d met in the Placid region as we both worked around various stations in Osmeden. Over time we had become friends, and I had eventually convinced her to come to work for Imperium Technologies. In the meantime, we had worked in Providence, Querious and Tenerifis together with some moderate success. Even so, getting joypunk to join me in the latest venture, located deep in the Catch region, had taken some convincing. She was, at her core, untrusting of the leadership structures and personalities in null security alliances. Outside of our corporation joypunk really didn’t seem to trust anyone. But in the end, the promise of a great business opportunity was too much for her to pass up. She had accepted a three month contract to manage our robotics factories while overseeing security to protect them from the ever-present threat of Sansha’s Nation.
That was two weeks prior to the war.
Shipping Out
The night was particularly dark in the Amarr Factory Outpost in T-AKQZ. A nondescript station known only for its ability to efficiently man its production facilities, it wasn’t a place many of the management team chose to frequent. As a factory facility, captains quarters’ were sparse and necessarily on the bottom of the station’s electricity priority list. When all of the factory facilities were at full production capacity, as they were now, the combination of lower available voltage and smog combined to create a certain unavoidable melancholy. Imperium Technologies had been pushing this station’s factory facilities to higher efficiency for weeks, much to the chagrin of the production staff. The alliance had changed production goals, and we were attempting to push everyone a little harder than normal in an attempt to meet those goals. We were all exhausted, the room was murky and everyone was a little on edge. Even Wierd Beard, normally quick with a joke, was somber.
Looking around, I found myself pleasantly surprised at the attendance. Aside from our retired management, every director currently serving in Imperium Technologies was on hand. We hadn’t all been in the same room for some time and it was nice to see that we could still gather without killing each other immediately. Crowding into Pygon’s well appointed captains quarters we forced casual conversation that would normally have been effortless and light. The air was foreboding and we could all sense something was amiss. It was the first time I’d ever seen Lekgolas look nervous.
“There’s just no easy way to deliver this, so I’m just going to say it. We’ve been asked to leave the alliance.” Pygon, Imperium Technologies’ CEO said as he strolled into the room. “The alliance leadership feels that we haven’t been pulling our weight. The truth is, we’re not a fit for them and they’re not a fit for us. We’ve got a week to get packed and moved out.”
An eternity passed as we considered what had just been said. “You realize we just retooled our entire corporation to meet the alliance request for capital building, right?” Daz was always the first to state what everyone was thinking. “We have all literally worked day and night for weeks to make sure we could deliver these damn ships in the most efficient manner possible because that’s what we were asked to do. Everything from recruiting to internal processes have been turned upside down to make this work” “I know, I know…” Pygon tried to interject, “There’s no way we could be doing more work, at our own expense, specifically for the benefit of the alliance. So saying we’re not contributing is just not true. There’s more to it, what gives?” Wierd Beard never missed a turn of phrase or hidden intent. His mind often caught up to things at least a few seconds before the rest of us.
“Fine… Here’s the real situation… Last night Phillip went to alliance leadership and in an effort to seek undeserved favor. He told them some half-truths about how things were running in our corporation. That, combined with some recent personality conflicts has led to Sort Dragon’s decision to mandate that we either leave or we dismiss our leadership altogether. I’ll leave it to you guys to decide which one we do.” Pygon almost never forced decisions, but he even more rarely presented options without knowing precisely which one would be chosen. In this scenario there was little to no doubt in his mind as to where the directors’ votes would fall.
“Oh, then fuck those guys, let’s pack up, gentlemen!” Jarhead roared so loudly that it echoed down the hallway, overcoming the droning noise of a Nyx class super carrier receiving the final production touches in the nearest building dock. “Fine, I’ll go shut down all the factories and tell all of the staff that they’re fired. I demand a drink when I get back.” Daz turned and headed through the door. Pygon poured drinks and offered each director one. Raising a glass, he shouted “From Tenerifis, to Valhalla!” “Aye!” reverberated around the chamber as the collective directorship of Imperium Technologies downed the first round of drinks.
“If that’s what you guys want, we’ve got offers on the table…” Pygon motioned to the commlink and it flickered to holographic life.
That’s the night we were all introduced to INFAMOUS, GeneralGree and Benju.
There And Back Again
The whirr of the water spout was nearly constant as directors attempted to sober up for the upcoming interviews. Discarded Quafe cans, broken bottles and snack packaging now littered the floor of Pygon’s formerly pristine captain’s quarters. The station services bots scurried about trying to keep up with 53 hours of discarded materials. “We have to ask the right questions to ensure that we don’t find ourselves back in a situation with lunatic alliance leadership with entrenched political lackeys.” We were all dealing with extreme exhaustion and the ego hit associated with being asked to leave an alliance, but Wierd Beard was taking it particularly hard. “They weren’t lunatics, just assholes like us.” Equto was always willing to argue a point, even if he didn’t believe in it and the timing was likely to see him waking up in a new clone in a bay deep in enemy territory. The combined glare from Wierd Beard and Miquela silenced the argument before it started.
“In the end performance didn’t matter, we were subject to the whimsy of a madman and we lost the narrative within high command. That’s a hell of a thing to get kicked over. I’m really not sure where it fits in my head, or how to avoid it in the future, besides being isolationists.” Natron had separated a little from the group. Bent on figuring out how to avoid the same issue occurring again, we walked through the steps we’d taken within Darkness once more as we waited for the commlink to open.
“Hey guys!” boomed GeneralGree over the commlink. Flanked by Kelnon Telenth and Benju, the interview process that would lead Imperium Technologies back to the south of New Eden to fly under the INFAMOUS banner had begun.
The Infinite Vanguard
“There were thirty three fleets this past week alone! Twenty of them were CTA’s or Strat Ops. To facilitate these fleets I’ve got 3.5 billion isk tied up in just getting to the front lines of this damn war, not counting losses and replacements. And you’re telling me we’re still on trial and there’s no alliance ship replacement policy?” A chirp rang from the warning systems in my Falcon class force recon cruiser. I’d been targeted by the enemy fleet. I had finally reached my limit, both time and my fuse were running short. Unfortunately, it was during a fight with Triumvirate, possibly the worst timing ever for a temper tantrum. At least I had chosen my target well. Prophet Avater was normally one of the most in-the-know and level-headed members of Imperium Technologies directorship. He was also one of the most dedicated fighters we’d ever had. “Why are we fighting this war? It’s run by people I don’t know, It’s in a region I’ve never been to, I’ve lost more isk than I can count and I’m tired of getting yelled at in languages I don’t understand. We’ve been at this for three months now and I’m not seeing progress. My crew is about to die and I’m about to burn a clone because our fleet commander forgot the enemy fleet was on the other side of a star gate? Are you kidding me with this? Is this what we are now?” the screams of my crew were loud, they always were. They seemed especially pronounced this time. You never get used to it. “I know, just concentrate on the task at hand, we’ll talk about this at the meeting tomorrow.” Prophet always knew how to kick a can down the road. The screaming had subsided; a sure indicator that my crew was dead and my escape capsule would soon be in space without a ship to protect it. “Yeah, whatever. Fine, I’ll see you back at HQ, I’m going to be smelling clone bay chemicals momentarily anyhow.”
The pain of a new clone is always surprising. My instructors at the academy always told me it was dying, in reverse. If that’s true, capsuleers weren’t “immortal” like most said. We were just better at dying than they were.
No matter how good clone technology got, there was always atrophy that made any movement painful and rapid movement impossible. Every nerve is experiencing life for the first time, and every feeling is amplified to a nearly unbearable level. Prophet and Pygon had already made their way to Prophet’s captains quarters in our staging headquarters. Both were dealing with new clone pain as well. Yelling could be heard from the quarters in close proximity to ours as other capsuleers “woke up” in new clones, frustrated by another lost fleet. Business was good for the cloners today, and had been for weeks.
“It’s really the smell that bothers me. Knowing that I’m going to spend weeks with this damn smell stuck in my sinuses just pisses me off. And we keep dying in these fleets and I keep waking up in clones. I’ve spent three damn months with this smell in my head. It’s getting really old.” Pygon, like the rest of the corporation, was beginning to lose faith in the war effort. “Raven has been running fleets and he says things are improving on the front lines.” Prophet, always felt responsible to tow the organizational line when we complained. We all knew he thought much the same as us, but it’s a game we played anyway. If he wanted to be the peacemaker, we were content to let him play the role. We certainly needed it from time to time.
The sound of station tractor beams spooling up and down followed by the buzzing and clanking of station armor repair bots told us that the rest of the fleet, those whose ships and crews had survived, were streaming back into the docks. The operation had failed to accomplish its goals, but worse it had become disorganized. Command structures had imploded and the cost was high. Capsuleers began pouring into the barracks. The yelling, which felt like being stabbed in new clone ears, followed shortly . “I don’t care what I said, you should have known better than to go where I told you to go!” Jatinegara had a history of losing his temper after a fleet under his command underperformed. But as fleet commanders went, most of us liked that he wasn’t afraid to roll the dice and take a fleet into harm’s way. This time was different. Win or lose, fleets normally end with a certain level of camaraderie. This one didn’t. This fleet ended with a definitive running whimper and disarray. Crews hired to man the docks had begun to whisper about “those damn capsuleers” days prior. A deck inspector was musing to his apprentice as he passed the open door to the quarters, “I don’t know, I just don’t think these guys can keep this station safe any more. As for me and my family, we’re going…”
I caught Pygon’s glance at Prophet as the dock workers passed out of earshot. We’d all been here before, nothing needed to be said for all three of us to know where this was leading.
Split Attention
“Do you know why they’ve started calling this place Valhalla? It’s because half of everyone who dies in New Eden wakes up in this damn place lately. I thought it was funny when I first heard it, but after waking up this many times in a new clone I’m not seeing any humor in it.” Kalikoo quietly took the contract data from me, something he’d done a thousand times. “I just feel like there are only so many more runs I’m going to making to this place. The ships I’ve been bringing down for the war effort haven’t been selling like they once were, but our losses have been mounting.” always reserved and careful with words, I knew he was being intentionally plain with me. The Cerberus class heavy assault cruiser hovered silently over the dock tractor station. Its quiet exterior did nothing to convey the immense amount of preparation that was going on inside the ship, converting its launchers to a lighter variant. “Yeah, I’m worried that this one only has so many fleets left in her. I’m not sure at this point if I can replace her, and I damn well can’t replace her crew. Anyhow, as always, thanks for saving my ass and getting my gear to me.” Kalikoo nodded and moved on to the next Imperium Technologies captain’s quarters to see who needed things shipped.
Heading back into my own captain’s quarters I took a seat on the sofa. The data pad on the table in front of me glowed defiantly. I knew I needed to spend some time turning my attention to my financial situation. My investment in the war had tapped all of my isk reserves. I hadn’t lost as many ships as some capsuleers, but I had a lot of hardware tied up in various staging arenas. Flipping on the comm wall the latest message from my contact at the customs office appeared, “Profits down, not enough incoming resources. Understaffed.” He always was to the point, I appreciated that.
I tapped at the data pad, “Jarhead, I’m headed back to Catch for a couple of days to handle some business. If anyone needs me, let me know.”
Valhalla Falls
There was always something about a customs office that made me feel at ease. The epitome of efficiency, the workers and machines went about their job and performed it without fail. It was reassuring that somewhere in the insanity of the universe something was in order and working as intended.
“I’m glad you came back, we were running out of resources to keep the robotics factories running. How’s the front?” When the call had come for everyone to stage fleets I asked joypunk to stay behind and look after the factories. “It’s not going well. I really can’t say a lot of good things about it. It’s got to be close to over. There’s no way we can sustain this level of loss.”
The customs office orbiting RNF-YH IV always provided a spectacular view, although few people ventured here for the view and the people who were here seemed to not notice it. The temperate planet below consisted of hundreds of island nations, many of which provided ideal vacation spots for people from all across Catch. Below us the sun would be setting and nightlife would be getting started. Planet side living was beginning to seem like a much more attractive option, even with the constant hate towards capsuleers from planetsiders.
Two comm tones sounded at once, both joypunk and I had received a message. That could only mean that either our corporation or alliance had sent a message to everyone involved. It was rarely a good sign.
“Hey guys. A more detailed alliance mail will be coming hopefully tonight but the general gist is this. Please spend the next 24 hours evacing your assets out of gxk…” GeneralGree and Benju, who were normally the messengers had been noticeably absent. Instead, this message was from Deveron, who had been trying to keep the alliance moving forward in their absence.
“I guess that settles it, Immensea will be someone else’s problem and we’ll finally be done with this damn war.”
My commlink chirped, “S3, directors meeting in 10 minutes. See you in the director’s lounge on my yacht.”
Uncivil Unrest
“Wait, what do you mean he’s unhappy with how things are going? Isn’t it his job to make things go however he wants them to?” Wierd Beard had just returned from the front and wasn’t receiving the news that there was a growing rift in alliance leadership lightly. “We’ve been off fighting while these guys weren’t even present, and now they want to start talking about how things should be? This is ludicrous.” “Yeah, I know, I’m just conveying that something is going on.” Pygon knew more than he could tell, but he was trying to organize his leadership into a cohesive unit and get us moving in a productive direction. “There’s really no telling how this is going to go down. But we need to be ready for whatever comes. At the least, you need to consolidate your valuable assets into one place.”
This meeting was the first in our Astrahaus class citadel anchored in RNF-YH. As the citadel was intended for production, it lacked some of the amenities we were accustomed to, including captain’s quarters. Instead, the directors of Imperium Technologies found themselves nervously pacing the observation deck of Pygon’s Victorieux class luxury yacht, overlooking the vast green atoll atop the cruiser. The juxtaposition of a green space with a docking bay as a sky was mesmerizing.
“So where do we go from here?” Daz was always looking for marching orders. A master implementer, he could achieve anything given time and resources and was always searching for the objective to work towards. “I think we wait and see what’s going to happen, it shouldn’t take long.” Pygon was being intentionally obtuse and we all knew it.
Every commlink on the observation deck rang. Natron was the first to break the silence “Well, you were right about it not taking long.”
Underthrown
Reasonable Concern
“I’m all about a coup, but you can’t throw one and disappear. That’s not how any of this works!” Wierd Beard had a knack for conveying serious thoughts with a dose of humor, and we all appreciated that now more than ever. Most of the directorship of Imperium Technologies was taking a well-earned post-war vacation, but we were still in constant communication. Pygon had left us with marching orders, “Things are just too touch and go right now for us not to stay in touch. A coup like this can be great, or it can be not great, so everyone pay attention to your comms and let’s keep each other updated if anything starts to go sideways.”
Miquela, Wierd Beard, Prophet Avater and I were milling about in the corporation Astrahaus bar. The place was more empty than normal, which we chalked up to the fact that most of the Imperium Technologies members, their crews and their minders were currently located elsewhere. “Has anyone seen or heard from Benju?” Miquela was our canary in the coal mine, he had a keen eye for when things should become a concern. No one responded. Miquela seemed to have formed a thought, but before he could vocalize it all comms lit up. It was Deveron, “All, it looks like we’ve got some small organizations attacking partner assets. We need to go put a stop to it. Everyone mount up, we’re going to be at this for a while.” Once again, Deveron was stepping up in the absence of appointed alliance leadership.
“I’ll tell ya, I’d rather be fighting for this purpose than the one we were fighting for three days ago. Fly safe, Prophet, I’ll see you on the other side” I couldn’t help but feel that we were finally coming together as an alliance.
“Get out, get out now!” yelled the fleet commander. Two fleets had mounted up, the first one had caused our enemies to remain docked and not engage. The second, however, had the disadvantage of an enemy who knowingly fielded a combat counter to our Cerberus class heavy assault cruisers. Our logistics erupted into flames around us as we took aim and fired on a single vessel, an Arazu, reducing it to debris. There was no way we were going to be able to compete with the Dangerous Voltage Sleipnir class command ships.
“As it turns out, we can’t protect our partners a few jumps away. We’re having a High Command meeting tonight, every corporation should send a representative.” Deveron had seen the writing on the wall and was ready to make sure everyone was engaged in potential solutions.
“Oh, and a heads up, it looks like Black Aces used their courtesy friendly status with us to set up gate camps around staging.”
The Road To Hell
“If we can’t figure out what we’re working with, we can’t figure out a path forward.” Walter Cohen was trying for the third time to make the point to the High Command. He was calm, but his brow had begun to furrow, a sure sign that he was growing frustrated.
I’d found myself in a precarious situation of being the only Imperium Technologies director available when the High Command meeting began. I made my way into the chambers fully expecting some resistance to entry, but Deveron’s assistant ushered me in with no fuss. Unfamiliar with the personalities I was surrounded with and unsure of the state of the alliance, I made the decision to remain as silent as possible and take notes.
“For the better part of an hour we’ve been trying to solve problems and I think we’ve come to a conclusion. We all agree we can’t control the amount of space we’ve inherited with the current assets we have at our disposal. To that end, we agree that we need to consolidate into one, perhaps two, constellations. We also agree that we need to forewarn our partners as early as possible that we will no longer be able to protect them.” Deveron was desperately trying to move the High Command, and the alliance, ahead. “We need to decide on where…”
“Hey guys…” Benju burst into the room. His face was taut and his gait was nervous. “Sorry to interrupt, but we’ve got to handle this. As it turns out, I thought I could shoulder the load I was taking on with the coup. However, it has taken a bigger toll than I realized and I must move away from being the figurehead. Everything I did was in an attempt to help INFAMOUS survive but now I need to step away permanently. We need to find another figurehead to handle things going forward, if there is to be a forward.”
No one in the room moved. No one spoke. Even assistants, whose constant shuffling and note taking characterized these sorts of meetings, stopped altogether. Benju had just confirmed what everyone suspected, but no one seemed to have been prepared for. All eyes remained trained on Benju, who was stoic.
“I’ll take it.” The statement was delivered in a hushed tone, almost a whisper, but it boomed louder than Estamel’s Modified Graviton Smarbomb. Latch had a way of stepping into things without knowing where they were going, and he had a way of finding success in doing it. “Does anyone have a problem with Benju passing control to Latch?” Deveron seemed to hope for an alternative, but none appeared. “Very well, Latch and Benju can go sort out the logistics of what needs to happen next. The rest of us have the plan and marching orders that we think are best. Let’s concentrate on making those happen.”
Thunderdome
I N F A M O U S counter couped, Gree back in charge, Benju (J3B) kicked
The headline couldn’t be more plain, but my eyes couldn’t have had a harder time understanding it. I threw the blanket off of the bed in my captain’s quarters and reached for my commlink. “joypunk, I’m going to need you in RNF-YH as soon as possible. Fly whatever ship gets you here fastest, I’ll handle the rest.” Somewhere in the luxury captain’s quarters located in Amarr, I knew joypunk’s data pad had just lit up with a notification. Whether or not she’d see it in time, I couldn’t know.
The wall-mounted comm sounded a notification for an incoming call. I waved at the comm and was surprised to see Jarhead, who was supposed to be on vacation. “Have you seen the headlines?” “Yeah.” “What the hell is going on? Weren’t you at the meeting last night?” “Yeah. Let me figure it out and get back with you. But you may want to start making preparations.” “Will do, let me know what you find.”
As Jarhead disappeared from the display, another notification appeared. “Daz, give me some good news.” “I don’t have any good news. I never have good news for you. I don’t know what’s going on, what I know is that we need to figure things out as soon as possible so we can…” The station shuddered, and alarms began to sound. The look Daz shot me was all we needed to say. “I’m on it. Let me know if you see or hear anything.”
Her voice was surprisingly nice, but I’d never heard it before. “Attention, please be aware that the undock path for the station has been deemed unsafe.” Light smoke began to stream through the ventilation. “Undocking pilots will not be protected by station defenses and depart the station at their own risk.” I tapped out a message on my data pad, “Latch, you damn well better know what’s going on. And you damn well better let someone know as soon as possible.”
“Who else should I be talking to?” Wierdy would know what’s up. “Wierdy, something’s going on at HQ, what’s our move?” “Oh, you’re hours behind already. You definitely don’t want to be stuck in that hole. All hell has broken loose. Apparently GeneralGree is back and has seized control of the alliance as of a couple of hours ago.” “How? Can you even coup a coup? We were just in an HC meeting and everything seemed pretty settled.” “No idea, it’ll take some time to sort it out. In the mean time we’re parking anything of value at the death star.” “Shit. Alright… I’ve got some work to do. Let me know if you hear of anything.”
The private docks, where Imperium Technologies kept our most advanced equipment, had begun to fill with smoke. My most valued crew, the one that had been with me longest, was already moving. Veterans of countless encounters and victors in all, this crew was the best I’d ever had and they wasted no time taking initiative.
“Sir, arrangements have been made. I have contacted the leadership of all of your other crews and all we need is your command to implement Plan Exile.” Everything shook, swayed, shook once more and settled. Captain Orontille, the crew commander for my Thanatos class carrier remained at attention, awaiting my command. The sounds and station motion could only indicate the destruction of a capital ship within near proximity. The station shook, swayed and shook once more again. “That’s two by my count, sir, how shall we precede?”
“We’re going out there, assemble all assets.” “Right away, sir.”
Exile
It had been a while since I had undocked into a battle zone, I usually had to go looking for them. I had no idea what my Ares class interceptor would find on undock. All I knew is that this ship was my best chance to get a look at what was going on and survive the sight. I didn’t have time to pour over the paperwork associated with waking up in a new clone right now.
The ship gave a gentle change in momentum, signaling that it was flying under its own power. The station doors opened into the abyss, directly into the sun. As my eyes adjusted I counted 7 Mobile Large Warp Disruptors. As the ship scanners came online I saw dozens of ships orbiting within near proximity of the station, all pilots checked out as friendly. Had the alliance already secured the undock? If so, why was it locked down? That’s when I caught a glimpse of yellow on the right-hand side of the ship interface. We were targeted.
“What gives?” I hailed in the broadcast commlink. “We’re here for Benju, not you, unless you do something stupid.” “You guys are still friendlies, right?” “Only to those who are friendly to us.” “Ok fine, I’m friendly, now can I leave or are we looking at a fight here?” “You’re free to go.” The benefit of an Ares class interceptor is the near instant responsiveness to control input. I aligned the small ship towards the Imperium Technologies citadel and warped away.
I poked at the commlink that was handy, “Pygon, if you’re not aware of what’s going on you need to be. Things are completely sideways right now.” “Daz, if you have that chart figured out I would love to have it. Blues are shooting blues right now, there’s no way to tell friend from enemy.” “Jarhead, you need to get a move organized. Charts incoming from Daz.”
I steered away from the citadel immediately as it came into sight and pointed the Ares back towards the station. Rolling the dice was the only chance we had.
joypunk met me on the docks back at station, “I didn’t know if you’d gotten my message.” “Of course I got it, I left as soon as I saw. What the hell is going on?” “I’m not sure, but I need you to do something for me.” “No, ok, what?” “I need you to fly the ship at dock EP-182.” We were approaching my captain’s quarters and I realized that joypunk had stopped in her tracks. “What’s wrong?” “I passed EP-182 on the way over here and you have got to be kidding me. That thing isn’t flight worthy.” “I know, but I think it’s our only chance to get out of here. I can’t explain right now, we need to hurry. Trust me, it’s got some extra equipment on it that I think you’re going to like.” “Ok first, I’ve never trusted you and never will. Second, there’s no equipment that will fit on that thing that could make it worth flying. When do we leave?” “We won’t be leaving together, I need you to fly ahead of me and await contact. Here’s destination information.” “Litom? Why the hell would anyone ever want to go there? You’re going to owe me an expensive drink. I’ll see you there.” joypunk disappeared around the corner, accompanied with swearing.
Back in my captain’s quarters Jarhead was already on the wall comm waiting for me to return. “Hey S3, I’m not sure what’s going on but Daz and I have a plan worked out. You ready?” “Yeah, give me 10 minutes and I should be good.” “Great, we’ve got me, you, Wierdy, and Kfar on the first chain.” “Who the fuck is Kfar?” Jarhead flipped off the commlink without a response.
“Captain, are we ready?” “Yes sir, all arrangements are made and we are awaiting your arrival. There were some things of value that we were unable to get through customs in time, what shall we do about that?” “Burn it all. I’ll be there in 5 minutes.”
“Green.” cracked over the fleet commlinks. joypunk had arrived and was currently risking her life to send us this message. “Fleet undock.” As our capital ships slowly exited the station, Nyx class super carriers began to arrive on grid. Imperium Technologies was on the move. “Captain, are we ready?” “Yes sir.” “Very well, fire the jump drive.”
A 5,000 acre temperate biodome rushed into our vision. “Dock up, captain. I have drinks to buy.”
Continue: “A Fortune Missed”
