EVE Fiction

The bar was full. The entire Corporation, save for the one or two who had volunteered to stay behind, in attendance. It wasn't much, but then Low Sec stations rarely had the amenities of Jita or Dodixie. Its bare metal walls were furnished with pictures of celebrities, and the handful of pilots that had made their way through the bar. Proudly displayed above the bar was a picture of Fatal, the Rabbit, and the old bar tender pouring both of them drinks in this very bar.

Lindsay savored her flavored Sweetwater, and looked around. This high up in a station was generally reserved for pod pilots in High Security space, but here in the .1 security backwaters, a few non-eggers huddled in the corners, trying hard to ignore and be ignored by the immortal pilots who made and lost the entire net worth of their home towns and station levels daily. There were no civilized people here, only the rough-skinned, scarred faces and wary glances of people who worked hard to make their way through life, and had to fight to keep it.

She couldn't imagine living life in a single place, never moving more than a few hundred kilometers for years at a time. There was too much to see, too much to explore, too much to build. And too much to destroy. Self-consciously, she scratched the back of her neck, her fingers probing the metal sockets that ensured her immortality.

No. She wasn't like these people any more. She was better.

She glanced up at the rest of the bar. Her corporation crowded around, laughing, making jokes, teasing each other. Blowing off steam. It had been so long since any of them had been walking around, and not floating in pod goo. They came in all shapes, sizes, and races. But ironically, almost half of them were related. Eight Sisters, their two cousins, and nearly a dozen others that the Boss had gathered together.

They all trusted each other implicity, something incredibly rare in the New Eden Cluster, and together made and lost small fortunes that some of the richer Corporations and Alliances would merely snicker at for being so small. But it worked for them.

Caldari and Gallente treating each other honorably, Amarr obeying Matari orders, it was a rare moment of cooperation that the Four Nations could learn a lesson from. But then they'd have to take the five seconds to pull their heads out of their--"Wrap it up!" the Boss shouted. "Stability won't hold for that much longer! I want everyone in their pods and ready to go in twenty minutes!" His eyes scanned the room, catching certain eyes. "Some of you need to wait for the all clear, you know who you are." He reached up and scratched at his red hair. "I know we don't get out often, but we'll have another Run in a week or so." A cheer rose from the capsuleers as several began to head for the exit. "Lindsay," the Boss called to her. "Settle up for us, will you? Standard tips."

Lindsay nodded, and turned to the bartender, just in time to see him let out a breath, relief washing across his face. He caught her looking at him, and his expression instantly went to stone. "Don't worry about us," She said quietly as she consulted the small Neocom she had mounted in a holster on the back of her left arm. "We're not the Pirates you normally see around here."

The bartender eyed her, quiet disbelief in his eyes. She smiled as she transferred twenty million ISK to the bar. She could probably buy the bar from him for that. "Of course, we're nearly just as bad." The bartender's eyes briefly flicked to his terminal that was turned away from him for the moment, then returned to her. Obviously he'd had some experience with some of the more....colorful capsuleers that frequented CONCORDOKKEN-free space. Lindsay's mouth hooked upwards into a smirk as she turned away. She swept her gaze across the room, then tossed back the rest of her Sweetwater. Without looking back, she placed her empty glass on the bar and pushed off towards the last straggler.

"Let's go, lover boy," She growled, grabbing the Civire's ear and dragging him away from the waitress he was trying to flirt with. "I happen to know the Boss-man wanted you to scout the way this time." She knew without looking that the waitress was relieved that the Capsuleer was going to be leaving her alone. It was like this every time the whole Corporation save the one or two dropped into a station for some relaxation.

The Corporation meandered their way up to the Capsuleer's Quarters, Lindsay occasionally having to stop and pull one or two members away from the merchants that were allowed this high up.

Finally, everyone was ensconced in their own Quarters, and were making final preparations. Lindsay quickly disrobed, just like everyone else was doing, and threw her clothing into the rubbish containers. Feeling only partially self-conscious, she made her way across to the gantry in nothing but her underwear, already running a checklist in her mind.

Slowly, she lowered herself into her pod, shivering slightly at the clammy pod goo, and hit a control. And with something akin to electric shock, she was resurrected from the dead as the umbilical connected. The universe was again at her fingertips. Without a conscious thought, the pod closed, and soon her Frigate began rumbling back to life.

The first pieces of telemetry were coming through from the advance scouts. The gate was clear, moving on to target. And suddenly the command was given, and the entire Corporation, save the scouts and the stay-homers were undocked, guarding the Industrials with their precious cargo.

Three minutes later, the entire Corporation was coming out of warp, with reports all around of the way being clear. Since she was the last one through, she caught a glimpse of the Orca coming out of cloak just before she entered the Wormhole. Moments later, the Orca was back through, and the Wormhole closed. Indies reported the fuel was safely in the tower.

One week until the next K-space Day.

And counting.