Leaving So Soon?

        “Last day. Capricorn 29’s. Year of the city: 2274. Carousel begins.” -- Logan’s Run

“Oh, gods dammit!”

I cursed under my breath as I flopped down onto my couch. Kicking off the boots from my feet, I opened my jacket and rested my head on the back of the couch, feeling queasy.

It had not been a good month - I had had nothing but losses. And most of the time, I couldn’t even blame superior numbers (though it did happen) - often enough it had just been me doing simple mistakes. And sometimes, it had just been me in the wrong place, in the wrong ship, against the wrong enemy, who could shoot first.

I looked towards the wet bar, but forced my eyes away from it again. Getting drunk would be worse than just ‘bad’ right now.

I knew - it was my choice to prowl the factional warfare zone on my own, without backup or links; but in months like this, it was hard to keep going.

Suddenly, the quarters which had been sufficient for me for years, felt claustrophobic. I missed the sky, the rolling hills, the smell of the forest in the afternoon…

Fighting off an attack of vertigo, I made my way to the computer console, and activated it.

“Drake…”, I unceremoniously began the message recording. “Life sucks, and I’ll be at … our place for the next week. It’d be nice if you could drop by some time.” I paused, looking at the screen, unsure what to say more, then I added in a soft voice. “I love you.”

And before I could question myself, I finished the recording and sent it off. Ignoring my churning stomach, I went to pack the necessities I’d need for the week - it didn’t take long. Duffel slung over my shoulder, I stopped in the entrance doorway and I looked back at what I had called home for the last years. Strange how little impact my presence had made in those years.

I shook my head and stepped out, and the door fell shut behind me.

A Déjà Vu Of Sorts

“It is usually a glitch in the Matrix. It happens when they change something.” -- Trinity

“Good morning!”, he called out as I entered the main room, freshly showered. “I made some coffee - want some?”

“Sure!”

I walked over to him in his kitchen, and hugged him from behind, giving him a light kiss on his shoulder. “Good morning, handsome.”

“Hmm, I could get used to that.”, he replied. Turning around, he gave me a kiss on my forehead, and handed me a mug. “Here - enjoy.”

Leaning against the counter, I took a sip while he poured himself a mug as well. It was indeed good coffee!

“I didn’t know that making coffee is so strenuous that you had to take off your shirt for it!”, I teased.

He grinned at me and winked. “Look who’s talking! Besides, I know you enjoy the view.”

Well, he was correct on that. Genetics had given him an enviable muscular build, and while the look of his prosthetic arms had taken some getting used to at first, I could no longer imagine him without them.

“Want anything to eat? I for my part am starving!”

I took another sip. “No, thanks, coffee is enough. But you go ahead - it is your kitchen after all.”

“As you wish.”, he smiled and turned back to his preparations.

Slowly drinking my coffee and watching him, I thought back over the last couple of days. We had met by chance at a social event, and found that we went along well. He was an outlaw like myself, only more successful, flying for an established low-sec alliance. After the event, he had asked me out for a drink, and then surprised me by not joining me for the night. It took another evening, and some obvious moves on my part, to make that happen, but it had been worth it.

A memory of the previous night ran through my mind, and I grinned. Oh yes, definitely worth it! Except… I had the suspicion that he expected this to turn into something more. Some of the comments he had made…

I sighed, and emptied my coffee.

“Everything ok?”, he asked, turning around, a full plate in his hand. I nodded neutrally. “Yeah, no worries. Let me just top this up and I’ll join you.”

Mug refilled, I slowly walked to the table where he had sat down, and seated myself at a right angle to him.

“So, what are your plans for today?”, he asked between bites.

“Work.”, I replied with a slightly sad tone. “I would have loved to stay longer, but…”

“I would have loved that, as well.”, he teased, then continued: “That’s about the POS, isn’t it? You hinted something before…”

“Yup. This little two-man corp who had war-decced us?” I took a sip. “Apparently they had found an offline tower of ours and thought ‘Yay! Easy target!’ Of course they didn’t tell us that, but once we started investigating them, their MO became obvious. So we found which of our towers was offline, and took it down.”

He laughed. “Nice! They probably weren’t happy!”

“We may never know.”, I laughed back. “And they are going to be even more unhappy today!”

“How so?”

“Well, part of our usual war target investigation is to run locators on our hostiles. One of them we found somewhere out in the Forge, and since one of our pilots had nothing better to do, he took a CovOps out there and snooped around a bit. And by pure chance, he found their POS.”

“Ooops.”, he grinned.

“Ooops indeed: a small tower, three labs, no guns, no hardeners. So two days ago we hit it and put it into reinforce.”

“And now that it’s coming out, you’re going to hit it again.” he completed the thought. “Did they add any defenses in the meantime?”

I shook my head. “Nope. We’re wondering if they even paid attention to the structure attack notification.” I emptied my cup. “But, yeah, that’s what’s up. While I can’t go on the op itself, I should at least be at base, in case something escalates.”

“Understood.”, he nodded, then touched my arm. “Thank you for two wonderful days.”

“No, thank you.”, I smiled, then leaned forward and kissed him on the lips, running my hand through his mohawk, procrastinating. Finally he broke the kiss.

“Go. You have a POS to kill.”

“Right.” I got up, put on my jacket, and collected my few other belongings - as usual, I had been traveling light. Finally I walked back over to him - and a sense of déjà vu stopped me. Suddenly I didn’t want to just walk out like I had done with so many others before, or like it had happened to myself. 

“Listen, usually I don’t do this,” I began slowly, “but I’d like to meet up with you again. If you like. Even if it’s just for drinks and conversation. I don’t often meet people who understand the outlaw life.”

He smiled at me, then took my hand and kissed my finger tips. “I was afraid you’d never ask. Of course I'd like to - and then you can tell me all the unclassified details from your op.”

“It’s a date, then.” I briefly kissed him on the lips again, then straightened up. “Sorry, but I gotta go.”

“Of course. Good hunting!”

With a last smile, I turned and headed towards the exit, thoughts churning.

What had I gotten myself into this time?

Coffee, Black, And Keep It Coming

        "Hello world. You're looking painfully bright and a bit fuzzy today." -- @Gitte, FF 2015

The cup of coffee was a welcome warmth in my hands, the beverage doing its best to clear up the hungover haze in my mind. The events of previous night had been.... interesting, and involved a few drinks more than I cared to remember.

Taking a sip from my coffee, I rested my elbows onto the little table and looked through the window out onto the promenade. The din of the breakfast diner faded into the background as I tried to sort my thoughts.

It had been a curious three weeks which had led me here, ever since the recent capsuleer conference. In the previous years, I had enjoyed these conferences - mingling and partying with fellow pilots on neutral grounds, getting direct access to officials from organizations like the DED - but this year... even though there had been mingling, I had more vivid memories from my little field trip into the icy wastes of northern Yulai III than of the conference itself. I used to return from these conferences re-energized, eager to haunt the space lanes, but not so much this year.

Part of the reason, I mused, was that it’s hard to be enthusiastic when one's combat record shows hardly anything but losses. Granted, there had been high points, like chasing off a Navy Vexor after killing most of its drones, or the fight against a Sabre which against all odds my Vengeance survived in deep structure - but most of the time potential targets either warped off at first sight, or called in their friends to outnumber or outgun me. I kept undocking with a brave face, but inside I wound up ever tighter. Getting drunk with other pilots helped me sleep, but was only masking the problem.

The coffee was bitter on my tongue.

I had to make a change, even if only for a little while. Do something else. Maybe go undercover, or do some recon work. Our alliance did have a number of standing recon objectives which I could do without necessarily wading into losing fights left and right.

Hmm…

The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. It would give me a goal, something to do, while I considered my next steps.

Yes. Recon work it would be.

I emptied my cup, refilled it from the carafe, and finally dared to remember the previous night.

Because, in between the many drinks, an offer had been made. A very tempting offer. But going along with it would mean commitment, would mean deeply trusting someone, something which no longer came easy to me. Even worse, I would have to keep it a secret; even from Eta, who I usually was able to tell everything. And what if the offer had been just a drunken mistake?

…but on the other hand, the possible payoff…

The scraping of a chair pulled me out of my thoughts, and I saw my companion from previous night taking a seat across from me, looking about as ragged as I felt, sunglasses shielding the undoubtedly bleary eyes.

And suddenly I knew what my answer to the offer had to be, and I smiled.

"I'm glad you came."

Derelik Irregulars

The misshapen asteroid loomed large in my sight, slowly rotating along its long axis. Orbiting above the barren wastes of Otsela VIII, it would not have been particularly noteworthy, if it weren’t for the forcefield-guarded opening leading into its hollow inside. Years ago, an enterprising entrepreneur thought it a good idea to install an exclusive nightclub inside this lump of rock - for pilots with ISK to burn, and outside the reach of meddling regulations. I hadn’t even known about its existence - until the invitation arrived.

I hesitated, bringing my Vengeance to a stand-still. I had an inkling how this invitation might end, and while desirable, it would make my life even more interesting. As if the last weeks hadn’t been exciting enough.

Unbidden, my memory returned to that evening a few weeks ago, which had brought me to the brink of resigning my license. If it hadn’t been for that Detei…

Still, I had made changes: I had stepped down from joining our public roams as line member; instead, I was now tagging along as irregular free-roaming skirmisher, to support the roam’s primary skirmisher. It gave me the satisfaction of being my own master, while still contributing to our common goals. And subsequently, I found new energy to pursue my solo flying, even if my recklessness sometimes scared even myself.

Then the war broke out.

For reasons unknown, Forsaken Asylum war-decced our little alliance, and for once, our fearless leader decided to fight back. We had the people, we had the fleet practice, we had Catalysts, and we had friends. The Final Stand, upon hearing of our war-dec, allied with us and was promptly revenge-war decced by Public Enemy. So we formally allied with The Final Stand in return, and the war was on!

Of course in the beginning mistakes were made, but soon we fell into the groove and started hunting our war targets, instead of being hunted. People sympathetic to our cause chipped in with free intel and support, and we were able to put the hurt onto our targets, ultimately completely dominating our timezone. NPSI at its finest.

Those were two interesting weeks, even if my own contribution was limited to convincing Eta to live part-time in our region, for scout and hauling services. At the end of the war, our losses amounted to about 160M ISK, but our kills were valued at 1.7B ISK.

But that wasn’t the end of it. Straya, another corp with people we knew and were fond of, found itself war-decced by the Break-A-Wish foundation, with the goal to take out the POCOs Straya owned. Having just come out of our own wars, we didn’t want to formally enter a new one - but we were more than happy to help out with neutral eyes and logistics, as did others. So began a still-ongoing game of whack-a-mole: Break-A-Wish would reinforce the POCOs one day, the next day we would roll in with numbers and repair them again.

And while all that was going on, our fearless leader asked me one late night if I could light a cyno in our home system for an acquaintance. Of course I agreed, and one small incident with POS guns

later, my cyno lit up, and my heart stopped for a moment when a Pandemic Legion titan and super-carrier appeared next to me.

The reason for the presence of the two super-caps became clear a day later, when the titan driver contacted me and asked if I could give him intel about the POCOs in our system, specifically about their reinforcement timers. Something about a private deal to take out some of those POCOs. Having nothing else to do, and with the rest of the alliance toying with Break-A-Wish, I agreed and we fleeted up. And since I was in fleet, I ended up helping with the shooting as well.

My day wasn’t over, though, as the deal had been just to destroy the POCOs, not to replace them. Loathe to leave planets unoccupied, I recalled my aunt’s little operation and made some quick calls. And when the last POCO exploded, I bid farewell to the PL pilots, and turned towards the next hi-sec system, to escort in a hauler carrying half a billion worth of POCO construction materials.

The following days were luckily less eventful, allowing me to catch up on sleep, with probably the most noteworthy moment being when a miner learned that it is not a good idea to profanely insult combat pilots in public. It took the loss of his Covetor, but he did clean up his act afterwards.

Interesting times, indeed. And now I was following an invitation to drinks from a pilot which I had only briefly talked to before.

The engines of my Vengeance fired up again, and I smiled as the ship moved towards the asteroid’s entrance.

Because, hey, what could possibly go wrong?

Lead, Follow, or Get Out Of The Way

The heavy door to my quarters fell shut behind me, and I slumped onto the floor next to it, leaning back against a wall. Already the first pangs of regret for my earlier outburst were beginning to seep in, but a swig of this extraordinarily exquisite brandy managed to keep them at bay.

…rrright, I’ll probably had to compensate ONS for this bottle of brandy, plus any damage I might have caused to their lounge. I might also have to apologize to that Detei which I had almost hit with my helmet.

And this year had begun so well! After Kitten had set my head straight, I had called in to take my yearly Navy Reserve service early, to return back to space fresh and re-invigorated. And for a while it had worked: with renewed energy I had begun shuttling out the ships which I had left behind in Sasiekko when I left Factional Warfare over a year ago.

Of course, I could have just contracted the ships to one of the major shipping corporations, but where is the fun in that? No, my plan had been to fly them one by one from Sasiekko to our new home, all the 20-or-so jumps through lo-sec, seeking fights along the way. And fights I got! One my very first journey, I had to play cat-and-mouse with a roving gate camp in Molden Heath; on subsequent trips I lost a fight with a Comet; underestimated an Exequror; and raised the ire of a Grandpa who yelled ‘Get Off My Lawn’, fired his shotgun, and then his family piled on as well.

And most recently the brawl in the large Amarr compound: I had warped my glass-cannon Harbinger onto a duel between a Malediction and an Atron, and happily started shooting both of them. The Malediction started shooting back, word spread fast, and the brawl turned into an exciting 9-way fight, with my Harbinger in the middle, dishing out as well as it took. In hindsight, I should have kept my ECM drones on the Malediction, while concentrating my fire on the Jaguar which had snuck up onto me - but overall, I had fared better than I initially expected.

But - and I took another drink from the bottle - when I later looked at my official combat record, I saw many kills I didn’t remember being involved in. It had taken me a few minutes to remember that those had been done on our open roams, like that big Drake fight. Roams in which I had been increasingly disinterested in bringing the requested ship types, or in paying attention; disinterested even up to the point that I’d disengage my weapons early to make sure that I would not get that final blow.

It had then come to a head on our Assault Frigate roam just that night. Commanded by John Hexis, who had shown himself to be as good at FCing as he was at scouting, he had led our merry band through a number of fights already, when eventually we came across a lone Brave Tristan at a gate. Sensibly, John ordered the fleet to move on, but I chaved: This could have been an interesting solo fight - a fight I could even have won - but on the other hand going against the FCs orders could bring the whole fleet in jeopardy, and would at minimum undermine John’s authority.

Something had snapped in me at that moment, and I unceremoniously dropped from the fleet right there and then: I would have become a liability to them if I had continued. I must have sat there at the gate for a good half hour, brooding, not moving, before finally a random pilot had guts and engaged me. Had I been paying attention, I maybe could have won - but even so, getting him into low structure even after he had a half minute head start was still something.

I didn’t remember how I got back to base; my next conscious recollection was throwing my combat helmet across the ONS lounge, and walking out with their brandy.

…of which there was still about half left. Good!

I closed my eyes, leaned back against the solid comfort of the wall. I loved this alliance and its people - it was finally a place I was able to call home again. It was good to again have stuff which I could help to defend, good to have people rallying at the spur of the moment, good to have people I liked being around with. People I didn’t want to let down. But as tonight had shown, I could no longer do roams as regular activity, even though they were a large part of our alliance’ mission. Yet at the same time I was too painfully aware that I still sucked at flying solo, and probably always would be. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

I took another drink.

Well, crap.

The Season of Love and Happiness

The station was quiet at this early time of day, so nobody was around to notice the unsteadiness in my steps as I returned to my own quarters, the memory of last night slowly fading. This Gallentean had been quite a good kisser, and knew how to use his hands, so it had been an enjoyable evening. Well, up to the point where his girlfriend suddenly changed her mind. The following minutes of yelling and bulkhead-slamming had been less pleasant, but it did save me from having to break it to them that making out had been all that I had been interested in anyway. That way, while their yelling turned into something less adversarial, I got to plunder their beverage stash and catch a few hours of sleep on their couch.

Holidays, huzzah!

Admittedly, I was still confused about the details of the various holidays people were celebrating at this time of year - at some point I think I saw two people shouting at each other while holding a metal pole - but it was fun to just go with the flow and enjoy myself.

Ah, my quarters! Finally! My access code was accepted, I stepped through the doorway, and the hatch fell shut behind me. Immediately, dim light coming from my main room told me that I wasn’t alone. Carefully, quietly, but not overly concerned I approached the room’s entrance and peeked inside. Yep - it was only Kitten, having fallen asleep in one of my more comfortable chairs.

Usually, she was off in her own circles, but we had an understanding that she was always welcome should she need a place to crash. I wondered what brought her here this time, but given the time of day and my state of mind, that was a question which could wait. I stopped briefly by her side, to gently stroke her cheek, then found the way to my own bedroom.

------------------

The smell of coffee finally woke me up. And not that weak excuse for coffee served with your average breakfast - this was hand-brewed strong coffee, Minmatar style. But as much my taste buds protested, I headed for a shower first - the hot water doing wonders for my well-feeling. Small wonders. Emphasis on ‘small’. When I finally entered my main room, I was greeted with the coffee I had smelled before, pastries, and a way too smug Minmatar punk.

“Look who’s back in the land of the Undead!”, greeted me Kitten.

I ignored her demonstratively, poured myself a cup and grabbed a pastry. It wasn’t until I was halfway into my second cup that I graced her with an answer.

“Ha!”

She giggled. “C’mon, don’t be coy. Given how late you came home last night, he must have been cute!”

“He was ok.”, I allowed. “But not that cute. And even if - there were complications.”

“Mhmhm,”, she nodded, “I should have guessed - after all, you did come home at all. So he won’t make your guest list for your ‘Festival of Burning’, or whatever it’s called? Which I think is still coming up?”

“’The Kindling of the Light’”, I corrected her, “and no, he won’t. But what about you - who is on your guest list for your New Year’s shindig?”

“You tell me.” Her demeanor faltered, and suddenly she appeared vulnerable. “Did you deliver the gift?”

“Yes, I did.”, I nodded carefully. “Though in hindsight I must say…”

“…I know, I know, it was a stupid idea.” She sighed, and slumped into her seat.

“Especially coming from you.” I pressed on. “I thought we were over this kind of stuff since ‘Princess’.”

She shot me a look as if she was going to say something, but then reconsidered. Instead, she replied “I thought so, too. But… One night of double entendres, months of nothing - but then suddenly Bam! I can’t get her out of my thoughts.” She shook her head. “Maybe it’s just my mostly-male Lance getting to me, because for all I know, she probably doesn’t even remember me - but what if it’s more?”

I emptied my cup. “Well, you cast your dice, and now you have to wait. Either she’ll figure it out, and you will have a whole new set of questions to answer for yourself, or somebody else is going to get lucky, in which case you won’t lose much.” I looked at her askance. “Though I suggest you find something to occupy yourself with in the meantime.”

“Way ahead of you.”, she managed a smile. “One of your Alliance mates has a problem with miners encroaching on his territory. But since it’s hi-sec, his hands are tied - so I thought I fly down there and buzz those miners. Which is why I’m here - to pick up my old Cheetah.”

I laughed. “Buzzing miners” was what we had called sitting in a belt and shamelessly cargo- and ship-scanning miners, hoping that the mere act would scare them away. It rarely worked, but when it did, it absolved you from the messy business of actually attacking said miners. Plus, if you negotiated smartly beforehand, you got to keep the ammunition expense budget.

“Speaking of which - I need to be going.”, she added. “But that also reminds me, my Cheetah has a bunch of heat-damaged blasters in its hold - are those yours?”

“If they also have dust worth almost two years on them,” I replied, “maybe?”

She chuckled and stood up, grabbing a pastry while doing so. “I’ll have them transferred to your hangars.” She gestured. “Thanks for letting me stay here tonight.”

“Anytime!”

At the door, she stopped and turned her head back to me.

“Listen… before I leave… when you mentioned ‘Princess’…”

“Yes?”

She hesitated, then convinced herself to speak freely. “You were right - but at the same time… you’re one to talk.”

“What do you mean?”, I asked, perplexed.

“Remember what you did before that Op?”

I nodded, slowly.

A pained expression flitted over her face.

“You’re doing it again.”

Long Distance Relationship

”Hey there!“

”Yes, of course it’s me - your sunshine from the other end of New Eden!“

”I know, I know, it’s been a while. Which is why I called today - I missed you.“

”Yep, I’m growing it out again. It...“

”Oh, really?“ chuckles ”You’re right - I didn’t even think of that when I chose the cut. My subconscious strikes again!“

”Maayybe - I can always dial it back to something more subtle. But I needed a change, so I went with it.“

”Oh, by the way, I got new ink as well - want to see?“

”That’s a longer story - I’ll tell you next time we get together.“

”Ok, ok, the nutshell version: remember when we last met? Couple days later acquaintances from my past contacted me, asking me to consult for two weeks with a planetside project. Security, hush-hush, that kind of thing. A break from losing ships sounded tempting, so I agreed. Well… two weeks became eight, and it ended rather badly; but somehow I had become accepted into their team of baseliners, and they insisted that I get it.“

”Thanks. I like it, too.“

”Well, where to begin…. you remember the Alliance Tournament?“

”Yes, that one, where I again almost didn’t get to fly, if it hadn’t been for the double elimination format.“

”Thanks, but really - I was just a grunt in that effort, due to various reasons. I’m glad that GG even let me fly in the first place…“

”…you’d think, and you wouldn’t be wrong either. But once the alliance got going, everybody had this energy. Like you have in a new relationship - active, googly eyed, and all that. So we deployed to Tasti - to give near-FW low-sec a try, bond, and all that.“

”Yes, for a while it really worked. Heck, even Kitten came back! …though she made it clear that she was there just for the sec tags.“

”… no, we’re good, but she’s seeing somebody else now. ...aanyway, while for a very short time we had control of the system, enthusiasm faded, mismatched expectations surfaced, and eventually people were doing stuff on their own again. You know how it is - people drop off, until you have a minimal core of pilots left.

“Which is good in one way, since you know who you can rely on; but also bad, in that you are at a point where you don’t have enough folks to get anything done.”

“Yeah, lessons learned, and all that. So, now we’re taking the lessons from Tasti, redeploy to a new area, and are going to be more discretionary in hiring new folks, and I intend to be more involved with any nublets.”

“I know - knock on wood, and all that. But enough of me - how’s it for you?”

“Again? Sorry.”

“They did? Jeesh, they are really hardline on war losses now, are they?! I mean, I can understand the rationale, but still…”

“Right, right, I left. But I still can have my jaded opinion, yes?”

“Oh.”

“Ouch. Really? Ever since the market liberalization act? But I thought you did so well there, with your Prospect effort?”

“I… I really don’t know what to say there. But if your CEO is really AWOL … coup d’etat?”

“Yeah, yeah, I wouldn’t either. Been there, done that.”

“Tell you what, I’ll keep some assets in your area. I was thinking of consolidating, now that I live elsewhere, but in your case…”

“No worries, you helped me enough already. I’m glad about every opportunity to pay some of it back. But - not to change subject or anything - how’s it going with the boy?”

“Glad to hear - that makes at least one of us.”

“Oh - you think it’s going to work out?”

“Well, I wish you the best of luck then.”

“No, nothing here. There was … but never mind. Less said, the better. Instead I've been flying more again.”

"I know, it's hard to believe!"

"Hit and miss - though mostly miss. But practice makes the mistress, right?"

"Hmm mhmm."

"'k - but it was good talking to you again."

“I love you, too.”

“Bye.”

A Change of Plans

        “Life is a hotel and you ain't about to check out yet

         Call for back up, it’s time to regroup and reload”

         -- Chaundon & Curtiss King - Be All You Can’t Be

The chatter and background music of the bar was flowing over me like a warm blanket, but I paid it no heed. Occasionally taking a sip from my drink - a very nice red from the wine yards of Jufvitte - I focused on the book in front of me. In an age of neural links and instant information updates, reading an actual physical book gave me a very tactile enjoyment.

Or at least, in general it did. That night however I had long lost track of the book’s plot. I was reading the words, turning the pages, but I wasn’t really paying attention to them. Instead, my mind replayed the conversation I had with my former corp mates just before.

My plan had been to follow my former corpies into their null-sec corporation and alliance, to dip my toes into waters unfamiliar to me. But my just flourished spark of enthusiasm had received a significant damper upon learning that my former corpies were already planning their withdrawal and move into a new corporation. Which not just meant that I had lost a reference to sweeten my application, but the reasons for their withdrawal were significant enough to cast serious doubts over the probability of me lasting more than a week in that environment.

I suppressed a sigh, and turned another page. Finding a new place to call home was turning out to be more difficult than expected.

So self-absorbed I was, that it took a discrete cough to alert me to the presence of two women standing at my table, mustering me with intent. One I had met before - Miss Phage, who had hired me the previous year for some shock and fear; the other one so far I had had only had comms contact with - Greygal, captain of the NEO-II team I had lent my feeble skills to.

Closing my book, I gestured both of them to sit, and we exchanged the usual pleasantries while a waiter brought them their drinks.

“So - how can I help you ladies?” I asked finally. Not the smoothest change of topics in the recorded history of conversations, but I wasn’t really in the mood for smooth anyway.

“Actually, we have a proposal for you.” replied Miss Phage. “A chance to chip in for a greater cause - without all the null-sec nonsense.”

“I liked what you did for our NEO team”, continued Greygal, “even if in the end you didn’t get to fly. I’d like to have to you on our Alliance Tournament team.”

“But…”, I rubbed my eyes, “to be in the AT, you need to be in an alliance, and I am not.”

Both women smiled enigmatically, and then realization dawned upon me.

“Oooh….”

Greygal leaned forward. “One question though: You’re in deep null-sec, of your original fleet only a couple of frigates have survived, but you have a clear run back to hi-sec, when suddenly one of your pilots announces that he could get point on a lone battleship. When he asks if he should, what is your reply?”

YC 116

        “Es ist unser Bestreben, Zu seien wer wir sind

        Wir wollen mehr erleben, Zu schnell die Zeit verrennt.”

         -- Frontal, “wir sind wir”

It was with hesitation that I clicked off the hot water in the shower - it wasn’t very often that I got greet a new day with the luxury of nice hot shower. Usually it was a matter of getting up in a hurry, swallowing a pain killer followed by a measure or two of mega-coffee, and off I went. But not today - today, I had time. Sort of - there was a fleet waiting. And the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen. Reluctantly, I stepped out of the shower stall, grabbed a towel, and started searching for my clothes.

My nose hadn’t deceived me: Eta had probably woken up long before me and not just made coffee, but probably drank most of it as well. But maybe I could snatch the last cup while she was busy on her terminal, seemingly fitting - I squinted my eyes - a Sigil? With a mental shrug, I delegated that particular question to the back of my mind, and concentrated on my primary objective.

Coffee… Cup… Bliss!

“Look who’s back, being all undead!”, greeted me a happy Eta. “How are you feeling?”

I let the coffee settle in my stomach and send out its soothing tendrils before I answered.

“I’m good.”, I replied, cradling the cup. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Well, you did come home rather late last night.”, she pointed out, then paused. “Though you had traces of clone vat goo on you, so physically you can’t be hung-over.”

I smiled into my cup - it was one of the more confusing aspects of being a capsuleer. Your body might be fresh and clean, but your mind remembered the abuse you put your previous incarnation through. This sometimes made for … interesting … effects.

“No, I’m good. Really.” I confirmed, turning to face her. “Not even the usual headache.”

“Good… good.” She said the words, but her heart wasn’t into it.

“What?”

“Well…,” she began, then hesitated. “I thought that you wanted to spend the night… well…”

“With Mica?” I took a swallow of the coffee, knowing what she was hesitant to ask. But heck, she was was concerned about me, so might as well tell her. Even if it killed my good mood.

“Turns out that no longer being on shooting terms is not the panacea it is made out to be.” I studied my cup for few seconds, before returning my attention to her. “But we did have a good night: Good food. Drinks. Conversation.” I cursorily glanced down at myself. “Apparently even shopping. And later on we went out and shot fireworks at each other.” My eyes lost focus, reliving the night. “And then we went to see how far two intoxicated pilots could get into non-sovereign null-sec.” I giggled quietly when the memory came back. “The answer is: not very far. We died to a gate camp right away.”

A few seconds passed, then Eta cleared her throat. “And?”

“And?” I emptied the cup, and turned back towards the counter to refill it. “I woke up here in Sendaya, and she woke up wherever she had her clone.” Briefly my stomach clenched, and I busied myself with fiddling with the coffee can until I could face Eta again with a neutral face. “You know, having your clone contracts in different stations is a great way to avoid having to say awkward good-byes - I have no idea where she is now.” I shrugged. “It’s probably for the best.

She moved to respond, but I was faster. “But enough of that - what about you?” I asked with a bit of forced cheer, gesturing with my cup. “Why did you ask to crash at my place here in the first place? And are now fitting up this roly-poly excuse for a hauler?”

Her eyes narrowed, but reluctantly went along with the change of topic. “You remember that I mentioned how I was following GalNet during my hauls?”, she asked. I nodded and she continued. “Well, recently I came about one particular show which one night challenged industrialists to fit out a hauler, and take it into glorious battle.” She grinned at me. “They call it the ‘Fight Reckless’ challenge. And I thought - why not? So I came up with this.”

She turned her terminal towards me, and I stepped over to take a look, suddenly intrigued.

“Hmm, ok, Sigil, the tanky hauler.” I pondered at the fit on the display. “But an armor repairer instead of an armor buffer?”

“Power grid, or lack thereof.” She grimaced. “The way I see this, I’ll be the silly industrialist who jumps blindly into lo-sec, only to get engaged by a lone pirate or two at the gate. They aggress me, but suddenly - long point! They can’t leave! My armor repairer, fueled by my cap booster, keeps me alive while the gate guns rip them to shreds.”

“Ok.” In my mind, she didn’t have the chance of a deuterium pellet in a fusion reactor, but that probably was the point of this challenge. And in all truth, I wouldn’t have been able to come up with a better fit on the spot, so instead I let my eye get caught by her intended cargo.

“Tobacco? And Marines?”

“Well…”, she blushed slightly, “The original challenge asked for spirits and exotic dancers - but I couldn’t find spirits, and you know what I think about the dancers.” A nonchalant shrug. “But I found tobacco, which will keep the marines entertained; and the marines” - she winked at me - “will give me something nice to look at while I approach certain doom.”

I chuckled and ruffled her hair. “That’s my sister!”

One Hour To Finish Preparations

The ready lounge was a muted bustle of activity: pilots were entering and leaving the room, fitting manifests were checked and updated on data pads, orders were snarled into communicators - all the usual activity you have before heading out on a roam. Compounding was the fact that this was going to be Redemption Road’s first public roam, and while most of the pilots actually had flown together before, there were a couple of new faces in the crowd who tried to find their bearings.

Myself, I had joined a group of pilots in one of the quieter corners of the lounge. After the obligatory introductions - it hadn’t been easy, but I had managed to not introduce myself as “Monakh. Druur Monakh.” in my best actress voice, since that usually only resulted in awkward silence and embarrassed coughs - we took it easy, enjoying our drinks, occasionally commenting on the going-ons, or swapping an anecdote.

All the while I kept an eye on the entrance to the lounge. I tried to be surreptitious about it, but as time passed and I was growing concerned, it was noticed.

“Waiting for somebody?”, asked the Sebiestor next to me, shifting comfortably in his seat, his faded Quafe T-shirt clearly having seen better times.

I tore my gaze away from the entrance. “Yes, matter of fact I do.” I sighed, and forced myself to relax. “See, a couple of weeks the authorities and myself got into a little dispute as to the morality of my actions, and let’s say, they are sore losers.”

“You’re an outlaw.”, he translated with a smile.

“Yup, and still green at it.” I admitted.

“I thought you folks meet up in Sendaya?”

“That’s where the ‘green’ part comes into play.” I suppressed a sigh. “All my stuff is still here in Berta, and I am not sure my undocks are good enough.” I took a sip from my drink. “I can probably high-tail it, but this being RILED’s first public roam, I didn’t feel like throwing yet another spanner into the works.” I shrugged. “So I arranged for a support pilot to help me out a bit - but she’s running late.”

“You don’t by any chance mean her?”, he said with a nod towards the entrance.

A Ni-Kunni pilot had entered the lounge, her black hair cut to chin length, and, upon spotting me, firmly walked over to us.

"Good afternoon, pilots.“, she announced. ”I am Eta Monakh, but you can call me Ma'am. I will be your support pilot for today.“ She smirked. ”That is, if you are one of the lucky ones who paid for my services.“

She beamed around the group, then a frown crept onto her face and she fixed her eyes on me.

"What, of all the people who hired me only you showed up?", she said with a hint of annoyance. "I'm afraid that I will have to charge you extra then - you know, opportunity cost and stuff. ... Why are you laughing? This is serious business!"

I stood up and hugged her tightly. "It's good to see you! ... Ma'am.”

She giggled, dropped her stern 'business woman' mean, and returned the hug as affectionately. "Glad that I can help."

"Same last name," noted the Sebiestor with curiosity in his voice, "so you are..."

"Her sister," replied Eta happily, an arm around my waist. "Adopted. Why, what did you think?" She rested her head against my shoulder and, giving me her best bedroom eyes, gently caressed my cheek with her finger tips. "Say, how much time do we have?", she almost purred.

I smiled wickedly and kissed her on her brow. "For you, all the time in the world. At least 40 minutes."

"Then lets not waste it!", she exclaimed, disentangling herself from me, and hooking her arm into mine. "It's been days since we last did it!"

Momentarily resisting her pull, I turned towards the other pilots. "Gentle-beings, if you excuse me, but as you can see it is hard to resist her when she's this excited." I grinned mischievously. "I'll see you in fleet."

--------

About an hour later, hovering in my pod just a couple hundred klicks off the Mifrata star gate, the moment in the ready lounge kept popping into my head. The looks on some of the pilots' faces - priceless! I giggled again, forgetting that I had an open comms line with Eta.

[ You think they fell for it? ], asked Eta, amusement in her voice, her Orca blocking out the sun.

"I think some did. You are an evil person, you know that?"

[ I didn't lie! ], she protested. [ It has been days since I last flew support for you! ]

I went to answer, but fleet comms interrupted me:

        [ Fleet - jump, jump, and warp to Mifrata gate. ]

Local spiked, and a few seconds after, the force field guarding the Orca's ship hangar flickered and expelled an Algos-type destroyer into space. A gentle command to my pod's engines, and I began moving towards the destroyer, engaging the boarding sequence.

[ Here's your ride, ] came Eta's voice over comms, while my virtual vision flickered momentarily as the pod was pulled into its rightful place inside the Algos.

"Thanks!", I replied, finalizing the last connections with my pre-flighted ship, and immediately firing up the engines before the local navy would pay me a visit. "I'll see you on the flip side."

[ Happy hunting! ]

Improvised Strike Force

        “Remember, proper call escalation involves at least doubling one of the

        following: 1) caliber, 2) mass, 3) velocity, 4) weapon yield” -- Joe Thompson

“Some more coffee?”

“Sure!”, I replied promptly, holding out my mug. As the Civire poured the black nectar out of the self-heating carafe, I let my eyes wander over his naked upper body. Buzz-cut black hair, a subtle facial tattoo, and a muscular build. But not bulky - he had the wiry build of an endurance athlete. I liked that in a man, and if the light fell on it just right, it was also a feast for my eyes.

I was pulled out of my reverie when his fingers touched my hand holding my mug, gently pushing it towards me.

“While I appreciate the admiration, the coffee won’t drink itself.”, he said with a glint in his eyes.

I laughed softly and took a sip, savoring the flavor of the coffee as much as the tingling feeling his touch had left in me. He was good with those hands, as last night and that morning had shown. Seeing my expression, he blew me an air-kiss and went to refill his own mug.

Of course all of this was pretend - once I walked out of his quarters, our paths would never cross again, and we both knew it. But we had gotten along quite well last night, and it felt nice to have a cosy start into the new day.

I should take vacation more often.

With a discreet buzz, my comm pad demanded attention. I sighed and took another drink of the coffee before reaching for the pad. Only one person would have reason to contact me, which meant that I should take the call.

“Good morning, Eta!” I greeted my sister as the miniature holographic display formed.

[ Good morning? It’s almost noon! ]

Across from me, the guy was mouthing the question whether he should leave, but I shook my head.

“You’re just jealous that I have a few days off, and you don’t!” I smiled at her. “But I have a feeling that my time off is about to end.”

[ Your feeling is correct. ] She sighed. [ Boss caught an interloper in Reyi setting up an unauthorized POS. He destroyed the hauler, but the tower is anchored and online. No defenses - yet. ]

POSes. Why did it always have to be POSes! But my sister made her living in that constellation, so I helped her whenever necessary.

[ Boss tried to negotiate with him, to either pay the rent, or take down the tower right away, with guarantee of safe passage, ] continued Eta, [ but to no avail. So we’re now going to attack the POS before he can bring in reinforcements. And if I remember correctly, your Talos is quite effective at this kind of thing. ]

“That it is.” I confirmed. “How many people do you have, and will we have Dreads?”

[ Seven so far - luckily it’s just a small POS. And we will have two Dreads - Lord Grim’s, and I took the liberty of reaching out to your friend as well. If that’s ok with you. ]

“No worries on my behalf. This is your op, your system, you hire whichever gun you can reach!” My eyes narrowed when her full sentence registered. “Wait - did you say ‘Lord Grim’? He is back? Since when?”

[ Yup, he is back! For about a week now - at least I think it is him. ] A frown crossed her face. [ He looks like him, he remembers the things which are his - but his pattern of speech is different. And I can’t quite decide if I just misremember how he used to talk, or if he had a cloning accident, or something else. ]

I nodded thoughtfully. Lord Grim had been the leader of the Frequent Flyers when I was just a rookie, until one day he had simply vanished without a trace. Having him showing up out of the blue was bound to raise some concerns.

[ Anyway, that’s a question for another time. ] Eta straightened. [ How soon can you be here? ]

“Well, I need to get to medical and jump clone over, but then I have a ship already fitted and ready for launch. So about ten minutes.”

[ Sounds good. Do you need me to move the ship for you? The navy doesn’t like you very much here. ]

Rriiight! I had completely forgotten about that! But I shook my head: “Thanks, but not necessary - I have good undock bookmarks.”

[ If you say so… ] she clearly wasn’t fully convinced, but let it go. [ I see you in ten then. Eta out. ]

The connection broke, the holographic Eta dissolved, and I looked up at the guy. “Sorry, I would have loved to stay a bit longer, but … you heard.”

“No problem,” he replied, “you do what you need to do.” He didn’t offer to come along to help, knowing that it wasn’t his op, just watched me gather my belongings. It didn’t take long - I travelled light. Finally I walked over to him, and, holding the back of his head in one hand, gave him long, lingering kiss, enjoying the warm feeling spreading in my midst.

“I had fun last night,” I said quietly when our lips parted. “Thank you.”

He reached up to lightly stroke my cheek. “My pleasure.” He smiled. “Good luck out there!”

I straightened up and made my way to the exit, leaving vacation, coffee and cosyness behind.

Time to find out whether my bookmarks were really as good as I hoped.

Planning the Future

        "Doesn't matter, I'll get run over by a car anyway." -- Suicidal Tendencies

“Come on, I want you to meet someone.“, she had said.

While my first impulse had been one of overwhelming dread, of being set up with a blind date, reality quickly re-established a mental beach head and conquered my mind from there.

It was only her boyfriend which she had kept in the shadows for so long.

“Call me Sean”, he had said, which was a near-certain giveaway that that wasn’t his actual name. But since Eta looked willing to go along with it, I didn’t pressure the issue any further. And luckily for her (not that I’d ever actually do that!), he wasn’t my type either. Nice physique, for sure, but long hair which was already turning grey in parts? Call me picky, but… No.

But he was a pleasant enough guy - former combat pilot, now semi-retired flying for a freight company - and he seemed to really work well with Eta, so I just gave him the benefit of the doubt and simply enjoyed the evening. Of course, the Arcturian Mega-Port may have helped as well.

And while the foods were consumed, the conversation drifted around many topics during dinner, with a longer stay at the immediate building project Eta had in the wings.

Which she wasn’t fully happy about.

Just a few months ago her alliance had decided to establish a foothold in Catch as ‘preferred guests’. Eta herself, not being interested in ratting or mining at all, had decided to build a Jump Freighter for herself, to supply the local 0.0 market, figuring that she could write off most of the production costs from her ongoing moon goo reactions, while eventually being able to participate in her alliance’s operations for once, even if indirectly.

Except that a few weeks later her alliance decided to pull out of Catch because of an impending .-A-. invasion.

She tried, but she couldn’t fool me - that decision had hurt her, especially since she had learned about it only second-hand. She had decided to nonetheless go ahead with her Jump Freighter project, somehow, but her enthusiasm was notably dampened. Knowing this, her recent emotional outburst became a bit more understandable.

On the bright side, the T2 materials she was producing finally started moving on the market again, providing a much needed cash influx for her wallet - some of her lots had been on sale for a good two months now. Not for the first time I was glad that it was her playing the market, not me.

And somehow, talk came around to skill plans - which in the last days had been a problem in the back of my mind.

“You see,” I said, “I am running out of sensible skills to train. I can either start pushing more skills to V for the sake of it, or start training for ships I won’t have opportunity to fly, or which I can’t afford to fly.”

“Speaking of which,” interrupted Eta, “Jaana has your Legion ready back home - whenever you have time to pick it up.”

“Well, think of what you’re doing right now.”, said Sean, clearly used by now to Eta’s flights of mind. “What are you currently flying?”

“A Pilgrim, which by common opinion apparently is ‘shit’.” I replied. “And I recently I … uhm … came across a gift package holding a Tengu and its subsystems, alas, all my relevant skills are at I only.”

“I think your short term plan should be clear then - train Recon to V,” suggested Sean, “Recon’s in general benefit from it anyway, and if the Pilgrim is indeed shit, I presume you can fly all the others as well?”

I nodded confirmation.

“There you are.” Eta took up the topic. “And since you now happen to have this Tengu, might as well get at least competent in it before you do anything.”

“Good points.” I took some notes. “But what long-term?”

“Well…”, Eta pondered, “considering that you hardly ever fly even Battleships, I don’t think capitals are your alley. Even if it would be handy at times.” She winked. “But you like to be sneaky, right?”

“Guilty as charged.” I admitted, remembering the friendly ribbing I sometimes received for my preference.

“So how about…”, she exchanged a look with Sean. “… Black Ops? Battleships, yes, but sneaky ones.”

“Hmm…”

I pulled out my data pad and started making up a plan.

“Hmm…”, I said again, talking to myself. “I’ll need Jump Drive operations for this one, which essentially means JDC V, or else I’d be useless. And Jump Portal Generation of course. And thinking of the tactical situations…” I grumbled to myself and added Cyno V to the plan as well. Some more support skills, and I had the result.

“380 days!” I proclaimed with dread in my voice.

“Well, let’s take a look at it. May I?”, Sean asked, and after a moment’s hesitation, I handed him my skill plan. He hemmed and hawed a bit, and then asked: “How many neural remaps can you stand?”

“Three.”

“That makes it so much easier.” He smiled, and worked for a few minutes before handing me the pad back. “There. That’s how I’d do it.” He winked at me. “I took the liberty of adding High Energy Physics IV as well… you’re going to need it.”

I looked at the plan - it was still long, but by grouping the skills by attributes and setting up remap points, he had cut out over a month of my total training time. Which meant…

With a bit of futzing, I managed to add a number of ‘would be nice’ skills to the plan without blowing the original estimate - in particular HAC V, a ship class I actually could see myself flying once I ran out of Recons.

Looking up at Sean, I raised my glass. “Thanks!”

“You’re welcome!… Ouch!” The latter was the result of Eta demanding his attention with a quick elbow jab.

“Well, Mr. Smartypants,” she said teasingly, pushing a data pad of her own to him. “Tell me what I should train!”

“Well…”, he picked up the pad and studied it for a while, before looking up again. “You realize that in a month’s time, between you two, you could fly almost all ships in New Eden?”

I almost dropped my glass. “You’re kidding?!”

“I’m serious. You,” he looked at me, “can fly almost every sub-cap - except non-Amarr Marauders and all of the Black-Ops. Ok, and T2 Haulers. And Miss Radiation Hazard here,” - Eta just showed him her tongue - “is only a week away from flying all carriers and super-carriers. Add another month, and she’ll be able to ferry all Dreadnoughts. All the other capitals she has down already. Except, of course, Titans.” He checked something. “Add another month and a half to fly all the other T2 industrials.” He leaned back, a smile on his face.

“But…”, Eta was surprised as well. “I could never afford to even learn all the capitals - that’s Billions in skill books!”

“I think I know what he’s after…”, I said slowly. “He doesn’t necessarily mean that you have to learn the capitals themselves right away - only that you could learn them within an hours time. So next time one of us comes across an abandoned wormhole POS, with a hangar full of neglected ships…”

Sean just grinned at me.

Eta looked between the two of us, then snuggled up to her honey, blowing a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Hello, handsome,” she stage-whispered, “Tell me more.”

Dinner Invitation

I noticed the smell immediately when I entered Eta’s quarters. Not that it was a bad smell, but it was unusual - even more so than the invitation to dinner itself. I knew that she was still angry with me, even she had calmed down somewhat in the last weeks, so maybe this dinner invitation was her idea of peace talks.

But now this smell… could it be… I followed my nose towards the kitchen.

“You are cooking?”

Eta looked up from the inductive cooking field where she was stirring in three steaming pots, and smiled. “Hello to you too, Druur! I’m glad you came!”

“You are cooking. You, Mistress of all the Reactors!”

“You didn’t know that?” She chuckled. “Everybody needs a hobby! You shoot hi-sec miners, I cook. Sometimes.”

“About that.”, I began, a bit uncomfortably, putting the bottle I brought as present onto the counter. “You see…”

She cut me off, a stern look on her face. “Not now. We talk about that another time. For now, I just want to have dinner with my sister. Deal?”

“Deal.”, I agreed, somewhat relieved, and walked over to her. “What are you making?”

“Nothing fancy.” She gestured at the pots. “Pasta boiled in water until soft, standard tomato-based vegetable sauce, and of course, the Universal Sauce. Two servings each.”

“’Universal Sauce’?” I peeked into the pot. “All I see is a chopped onion sautéing in some oil on medium-high. And some green bits.”

“A bell pepper, chopped into small bits. And of course you don’t see more because it’s not done yet!” She peeked into the pot as well. “Ah, good, the onion is starting to glaze. Can you hand me the bacon and chilis please?”

I looked around, and quickly found the little bowl with the prepared ingredients; about two slices worth of chopped bacon, and a mixture of red and green chilis, chopped really fine. I handed the bowl to Eta who unceremoniously dumped it into the pot and gave it a vigorous stir.

“The chilis are the tricky part,” she explained conversationally, “it took me quite some time to find a good balance between heat and flavor which I liked. Right now I’m using a dried Habanero, a fresh Jalapeño and half a fresh Anaheim. Ok, this can now sauté for a couple of minutes.” She looked up, and her eyes fell on the bottle I had placed onto the counter. “You brought wine, excellent!”

“Arcturian Mega-Port,” I corrected. “I didn’t know what to expect, and this one goes with quite a range of foods. Plus, I still owed you one.”

“Well, open it! Let’s see if it’s really as good as advertised!” She took two glasses out of a cabinet and handed them to me. “But I don’t know what you mean with ‘owing me’.”

“Last year, you remember?” I answered filling the glasses and handing her one. “I was in a funk, you brought me out of it by signing me up for an Agony roam; and when I came back, there was a bottle of this port waiting in my quarters. I still don’t know how you had managed to arrange all that, but it had been the right thing at the right time.”

“Hmm…” She took a sip from her glass, and nodded appreciatively. “Not bad, not bad at all. Good choice.” She looked at me. “But that thing last year, that wasn’t me.”

“But who…”, I stuttered, “how…”

She took another sip. “I don’t know - but appears that you had an admirer, with connections.

“I say,” she continued, “don’t worry about it for now. Let your sub-conscious puzzle over that problem, while your consciousness takes a drink and enjoys it.” She stared at me until I dutifully drank from my port as well.

Boy, it was good.

I savored the warmth starting to spread out from my stomach, while pondering Eta’s suggestion. I could go back to that station and start digging into the security logs, but on the other hand, it’s been a year. Maybe she was right, and should let my sub-conscious do the work for once.

“Why ‘Universal Sauce’?”, I asked Eta, who had set down her glass and now chopped up a clove of garlic to add to the dish, followed by an 8oz package of sliced mushrooms and more stirring.

“Because it goes with, or on, almost everything.” She chuckled. “And in fact, you’re the reason I found this recipe in the first place.”

“Me? How?”

“One of the things I do on my Jita runs is trawl GalNet for interesting things to read, and on one run I had ended up somehow on a foodie discussion forum. … broth cube, broth cube, where did I put the broth cube? Oh, there it is. … And while I was scrolling through the posts, suddenly a name stuck out: ‘Freedom Front of Intaki’.”

Eta interrupted her stirring briefly to look at me. “And the reason the name stuck out was that I remembered you telling me about them when you came back from the Holoreel Convention - you had met some of them there.”

Taking another sip from my port, I frowned. “Freedom Front… Freedom Front… Oh! You mean the Intaki Liberation Front!”

“Yes, that one. Anyway, the name stuck out, so I got curious and looked closer, and behold: a recipe by the boss of the ILF.” She pursed her lips. “Or did she just comment on it? Don’t remember.” She shrugged. “In true Intaki style, the recipe looked quite spicy, so I gave it a try. And here we are. Speaking of which…”

She examined the contents of her pot. “Hmm, usually I add some water at this point, up to half a cup, but I think this time the bell pepper and mushrooms produced enough liquid.” She winked at me. “Can’t have water dilute the flavor, now, can we.” She grabbed a pitcher and poured a white liquid into the mixture.

“Cream,” she explained when she saw my questioning look. “About half a cup. And now: spices. Black pepper, paprika, cayenne pepper - hmm, I think I’m going to skip the dried chilis today - ooooh, let my try a pinch of cumin as well.”

Eta gave the now white’ish mixture one more stir and then used her spoon to taste the sauce. It must have been good, because she nodded and reduced the heat.

“This now has to simmer for a bit, to thicken somewhat,” she said, “but it’s not that critical to get it really thick, because I’ll also dissolve a good handful of shredded cheese in it, right after turning off the heat. So I guess 10-15 minutes from now.” She picked up her glass again. “And until then we can…”

I never heard the end of that sentence because suddenly we were interrupted by a voice from outside the kitchen. A male voice.

“That smells good!”

I gave a start and almost dropped my glass. My hand went to my side arm, and I started scanning the kitchen for defensive positions when I suddenly realized that Eta was just standing there, with a grin on her face.

“You should see yourself!”, she laughed. Her eyes sparkled. “Come on, I want you to meet someone.”

Good To See You Too

        [ It’s all your fault, you know that?! ]

Eta was pacing in front of the video pick up, a drink in her hand. I had never seen her restless like that before. Nervous. Unsure of herself even. Of course I couldn’t ask her now, this being a prerecorded video mail. I could only hope that she would divulge details on her own.

        She took a sip from her glass before continuing.

        [ I mean, all I meant to do today was to have some easy times - take care of the market, try out the new hacking technology, spend some quality time with my boy. ] She waved towards someone outside the range of the video pickup. [ But noo… ]

        Another drink.

        [ There I was running a combat site in Reyi - something which I hadn’t done in years - when suddenly Nicholas from Dire Wolfs showed up in system.

        And I remembered that Dire Wolf had been causing troubles in our constellation recently, and were rumored to start to take an interest into us for the control of our low-sec systems. ]

        She looked at the floor before continuing.

        [ So I was sitting there, a potential hostile in the system, and all I could think of was: “What would Druur do?” ]

Heh. that was a question I could easily answer: I’d taunt the hostile in local, trying to get him to play his cards openly.

        [ I didn’t know, but what I did was close enough. I don’t know why, but I started taunting him in local, that if he wanted to find me, he could stop wasting his time with combat probes, and just fleet me. And he did. ]

She took another drink, and I gave her unseen thumbs-ups.

        [ It kinda went downhill from there - we bantered back and forth, warped around the system, a lady-friend of his entered the system and was having a standoff with other alliance members at the gate…

        [ Anyway, at some point I was warping - in my mission drake - to an unsafe spot and wasn’t paying attention, so when Nicholas in his Rapier and Mary-Jane in her Typhoon warped in, I almost didn’t notice. ]

        She looked at me sheepishly over her drink. [ I have not much practice at using my own fleet to bait, and unsurprisingly it did go south. ]

        Her eyes dropped down at her glass, then back up, apologetically at me: [ Sorry, I need a refill. ]

While she was rummaging around outside the range of the video pickup, and exchanging incomprehensible words with someone I couldn’t see, I was waiting patiently. I had an inkling where her story might lead, but still, it was too out-of-character for her, so I needed it to hear it from her own mouth.

Eventually, she appeared again, her glass filled to the brim.

        [ Sorry about. Uhm, … where was I? Right… I was in an unsafe spot with my mission drake, this Rapier showed up because I had forgotten that I was still in fleet with him, and then his lady-friend in a Typhoon joined the party as well And commenced to reduce me to mince meat. ]

        She took a significant sip.

        [ It wasn’t so much the Drake itself, which by then was three years old and uninsurable - it was my lapse of mind which is bothering me. But as it were, I screamed in Alliance chat, and frantically fleeted everyone willing to to step up. ]

        She almost blushed.

        [ I honestly didn’t expect it, after my wanton cockiness, but they showed up. My Drake died, but they killed Mary Jane, and I just managed to get back in time to pick up the drones I had left behind. ]

        Another drink from her glass, leaving it half empty, and she spent some time pondering a detail on the floor in front of her. Eventually, she looked up again.

        [ I don’t know, Sis. How do you do this? How!?! I really don’t know. ]

        She gestured at the universe at large.

        [ Was I just being stupid, and this was just one of the many daily insignificant events at the frontier? Did I just manage to push my alliance one step closer to a war with a true enemy? Did I maybe manage to instill some caution in the minds of Dire Wolf? ]

        She paused for seconds, then looked straight into the video pickup.

        [ I don’t know, but I know that it’s for me to figure out. And I will. But still, I know this...]

        Her hand, holding the glass, pointed straight at me.

        [ If it weren’t for you, I would have stayed docked. ‘ss your fault! ]

The video feed cut to black - that was all she had recorded. I was looking at the dark screen, yet smiling.

“I love you too, Sis.”