Return to New Eden

August 4, 2009

OOC note: (I know I said I was shutting things down for this account and for this game, but in the end, I can’t let one bad instance of customer service drive me away from a game that’s so excellent.  So, back to the game, back to the blog.)

>>>>Personal Log:  I thought I was done being’ a capsuleer, I thought I was done playing the markets and hauling crap around for Mr. D.  He had put me on ice, had me cooking my heels on the homeworld.

I was actually on a pleasure trip to Illinfrik when the call came.  Mr. D.’s face surprised me when he appeared on screen and told me it was time to get  back to work.  He then proceeded to give me one of the crappiest jobs I’d ever been given.  He told me to get everything in the region, and bring it to base.  And I was to get him a ships accounting while I was at it.

The crew seemed surprised to see me and took a little longer than normal warming up the Iteron Five, that I had spent so much time in.  They were as surprised as I at me going out.  I thought we had been in talks to turn the ship into a trade museum, or a classroom for orphans.

Not to be today, I thought to myself as I finally hauled the last of the stray matter back to Frarn, ran it through a quick sorting algorithm, and sent most of it to be consigned to the furnace.  Nearly 5,000 cubic meters of trade goods, including a giant secure container holding only Mr. D’s Quafe, a half dozen ships, and a giant can of salvage she had forgotten about sloshed about in the giant Industrial’s cargo hold.<<<<

She finished up  her  tabulations:  Just over 50 M in cash, 300-400M in Datacores depending on how fast they liquidated, Three Imicus class Frigates, A Thorax, Three Iteron class Industrials (two on the market) and a Helios were the ships she had available.

She tabbed up Mr. D.’s  ship-list and copied it over to the assets list:  Four Stabbers, eight Rifters, A Scimitar, Two Mammoths, a Hurricane and a Sleipner.  Funny, no battleships of any kind.  And she knew she had bought him a Maelstrom.  And hold on a second, she had bought those stabbers months ago, and knew Mr. D. hadn’t been flying them at all.  The cargo manifests all said that only one was fitted at the moment.

She furrowed her brow and did some data digging, contacting Mr. D’s personal data avatar and making him divulge the recent asset allocations.  Apparently Mr. D. has been shuffling ships off to a new recruit.

Her slender fingers worked the datapad, summoning up everything she could muster on the mystery pilot.

She got a name, and a photo, and very little personal data.  Someone named Asheyna, a little Minmatar bitch sinking her claws into her boss!  Aziza hated her instantly. Something about her confidence, the fact that she wasn’t even consulted with a gear list, something was going on.  She thought it just might be an aging warlord’s play at keeping young.

She dug deeper.  By the time her alarm chirped to remind her of her imminent meeting with Mr. D, she was prepared carefully, in a fresh ship-suit, scrubbed and shiny with just a hint of lip gloss, aiming for professional but available, she gathered up her data-pad, her carry bag, and her holstered blaster pistol, grateful that the artificial gravity seemed to be holding.  She headed for Deck 6.9, Mr. D’s favorite drinking spot in Frarn.

She nearly froze in the doorway as she entered.  That skinny bitch Asheyna was draping herself all over Mr. D and pouring him coffee! Like she owned him or something!  Things went downhill from there.

<<<<<Personal Log:  I’m not ashamed of what I did, but I think next time I’ll snipe the bitch from orbit.  Suffice to say that the meeting ended with the data pad thrown at Mr. D’s head, him bemused, Asheyna smirking like she won something at a street fair, and a near bloodbath.  That Matari bitch better watch her hands around Mr. D, or I’ll cut them off and stuff them down her stupid, skinny whore throat.>>>>

Things didn’t look all that great between her and her employer by the end of that meeting, so Aziza headed down t her hanger.  She had them kit out the Helios quickly and jumped in, heading out in the inky blackness of space.  Her com panel beeped a recorded message from Mr. D.  She thought about watching it but decided she just didn’t care for now.  For now, she’d wrap herself in a field of stars like a blanket, and listen to their music.  Tomorrow would be soon enough for more orders, if she could bring herself to go back to work after such public humiliation.

Eventually, she thought it would be an apology from Mr. D about the way he had acted, or rather, not acted when the skanky whore was draping herself all over him.  She thumbed open the message.  Nothing personal, just a one line order:  Proceed from Frarn to Osamuni with as much raw ore as possible, and bring the  blueprints can.  –D.

She stared at it for a long while before turning the Helios back to the station, calling in orders for the Iteron V to be loaded to the gills.  If she couldn’t dazzle him with her personality, or lure him with her gentle charms, maybe he’d be swayed by her efficient service.

She sat there a long time before undocking, the realization dawning on her that she was totally and 100% in love with her employer.  “Awkward and nothing to be done about it,” she thought to herself, and she wiped away a few tears, as she began her pre-flight checklist.