The problem of going to sleep in your pod is that once you wake up, you can’t really rub your eyes, or drink a glass of water to clear the bad taste out of your mouth. Instead, all you have is all-encompassing amniotic fluid - and ship signals demanding your attention.
So, what do we have... ship finishing warp-in to my safe-spot, the CVA morale office still cloaking in our system... and an urgent comm request from Eta in Empire. I opened the channel.
“Good Morning! What’s up?”
[ “Morning”? It’s about midnight here! ]
[ Pah - I’m going to detail you, if you keep that up! ...but anyway: the Alliance is shooting Interbus Custom’s Offices next door, and could use any damage we have available. ]
“Didn’t they do that last night?”
[ No, that were just another couple of POSes in the other system. ]
I sighed theatrically: “We really have to do something about LC’s Dreadnought addiction.”
[ Actually, it was the Koalas: ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if we owned all the Customs Offices - no PI taxes!’ - ‘Yes - how many dreads would it take to take out a CO?’ - ‘I have a dread available!’ ...]
“...and then it snowballed.” I laughed. “That does sound eerily familiar.”
I pulled up my asset list .... excellent: I still had my POS-bashing Apoc in our home system.
[ None so far. ... oh, and I donated 100M from Corp funds to put up the new custom offices. I hope you don’t mind. ]
“Nope, no objections!”
I looked at the map, and then continued:
“Ok, I’ll have to head to the nearest outpost, but then I can jump-clone back to Empire and add my feeble DPS to the effort.”
[ Sounds good - I’ll let them know. Good hunting! ]
The channel closed, and I instructed my stealth bomber to head for our system’s gate. As my ship picked up speed, I briefly considered whether I should wake her - but dismissed the thought almost immediately: she’d only get shot at needlessly. I’d make it up somehow later.
The gate fired, dropping me into the next system towards the outpost, and I prepared myself for a long night ahead.