The hours suck but the perks!

January 24, 2009

2009 01.23

17:41 Aziza logged on from a late dinner break to check for messages.  Her inbox had a few missives from Colonial Fleet Services. Apparently something about their war chest and training for combat needs.  A request for materials and minerals accompanied it.  Then there was the ominous message from Mr. D. “Minz, go  buy Battle-cruisers skill book, slot  it immediately. Check the escrow account for purchase of new ship upon learning new skill. Good work in the last couple of days…. D.”

A quick search of the markets showed that the skill book was nearby and a Brutix was the cheapest battlecruiser within 10 jumps.  She started by swinging by the Pator Tech School in good old badly named Illinfrick.  She’d never been ill or fricked there or badly fricked in any event.  She slotted the skill, set the autopilot and decided it was as good a time as any for a nap.

She woke up from nap at 18:30, in the Hurjafren system. From her personal log:  “In my haste to get going, I had failed to plan adequately and was now stuck in a station with two ships. Only one thing to do for it… Pack up Grasshoppah and put him in storage until I could swing around with Big Blue…”

She pulled into dock with 25 minutes left before she  was cleared to pilot the Brutix, and  spent that time backing up Grasshoppa’s personality to an AI button, telling the perky lil’ A.I. he was gonna take a long nap.

At 8:53 her alarm goes off, giving her three whole minutes to wake up, grab a bulb of coffee with artificial dairy flavors, hazelnut and some cinnamon. “Ahhhh…. Another fine Quafe product. She heads down to Hanger 361F at the Imperial Armaments Factory, checked the market que for any quick bargains and prepared to initiate skill change over, as he had so many times before.

She was just going to switch back to mastering Gallente Frigates, she decided. Other priorities would become clear, but until then, her survey specialist track was laid out before her.

18:58… Skill training completed. Her pilot’s GalNet registry automatically updated her status as ‘qualified’ Battle-cruiser pilot. Most pros knew that ‘qualified’ was just a fancy way of saying ‘wet behind the ears for this set of gears’, but that never changed the little thrill Aziza got from trying out new ships.

19:36 “Get your ass back to Frarn young lady, stop gallivanting around with your shiny new ship. What’d ja name her?” barked Mr. D, over the Comnet.  Aziza had completely lost track of time, floating in space in her new ‘shipsuit’ as she thought of them from time to time.  This was a new Brutix, just off the factory floor and she had spent the time familiarizing herself both with the ship and its systems.

She though to herself “Oops, I had spent so much time in the pod, familiarizing myself with the feel of the new ship that I had forgotten to turn on the autopilot…   His name is Big Daddy Tuna.” is what she says.  “Dock my pay” is her thought but it doesn’t escape her lips, this time.  Mr. D’s only comment. “I still think it’s bad luck to name your ships after guys, but I like the name.”  Aziza’s grin causes the photo receptors in her dashboard take it down a notch to prevent flares in her image.  Mr. D. continues, “Got a large number of drone wrecks here for you to take care of, ASAP, Minz… Battle-cruisers don’t grow on trees.”

Aziza’s replies “On my way, boss, eta 15 minutes.”  It was only three jumps but  better to set meetable expectations and beat them than to show him how accurate she could be.  She sets the nav comp and engages the warp drive.

By 19:46, Aziza hops back into Frarn, beginning her search for Mr. D.   She gets a lock on his fleet transponder and orders the  perform a double barrel roll aligning for warp.  As her new  ship literally jumps at her command.  Within minutes she and Big Tuna, as she affectionately thinks of him are sucking nearby space dry of wrecks and loot, all in the name of the Brutor Tribe.

After a few hours of salvaging, Aziza returns back to Frarn, her new salvaging battle-cruiser filled to the brim with modules and spaceship wreckage.  Most of the salvage goes to nearby dealers, the modules get gone through for good or  ‘like-new’ to be added to the market and the rest are bound for the foundry, where Mr. D will melt it all down, and either consign the materials for construction or sale (which is Aziza’s preference).

Before closing down shop and ship for the night however, she takes an hour to add some of her more valuable scrap to the market.   She grinned to herself.  Mr. D. always said she could do whatever she wanted to with salvage in terms of sales.  By her calculations, her efforts in that one hour would yield more than the cost of her skill and her new ship.
If only her boss would notice the lengths to.  Maybe someday.

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