Ladder-Climbing

It's a good thing I kept all that tritanium, and the modules the pirates dropped. When I returned to Clell today, Messire Raennere asked me to make more stuff. I checked the modules' information to see how well they would reprocess down, and they covered most of the minerals I needed. No mining necessary!

He's... pardon, but he's a self-serving little shit, Messire Raennere. Clearly he's too lazy to do things himself, and only really cares if I, or any others doing his paltry tasks, make him look bad.

This is not what I thought I'd be doing. Not at all! Running a lazy sot's errands for him, no. It sounded so promising at the start, but I suppose that is the way of things, finding someone else's shoulders to stand on in order to reach the next level.

I've just started a Navitas in production for him, it'll take an hour and a half or so. He's given me the name of an agent who works for the Sisters of Eve, which could either be exactly what I'm looking for, or an enormously disillusioning disappointment.

Eking a Living

He asked me to retrieve some stolen documents; to shoot down the man who took them and salvage the item from his wreck. I'm not entirely certain how comfortable I feel about shooting another pilot... we all deserve a chance at life... but he did something wrong, morally, and should be brought to justice.

At least, that's what they would have me believe. I don't pretend to understand the political machinations which cause people to act the way they do. I have little faith that my superiors are entirely innocent in any given situation -- I watch the news, alright? I pay attention, I listen.

But -- and this is the sad part -- I need the ISK. While I was in the station, I listened in on the local chatter. Pilots accusing others of destroying their ships, stealing from them as they mined. Capsuleer piracy, war declarations. Destroying one anothers' pods. New Eden is harsh world, and the defenses of my Velator, I'm afraid, will not be up to the challenge.

The payout from retrieving my agent's stolen documents was enough for me to buy skills to train in upgrading my ship and commanding drones for defense. After that, Messire Feritte paid me to deliver an encryption code-book and gave me a reference to an acquaintance of his in another system. I bought a shield-booster for Pequeña, just in case.

The new agent seems nice. He's asked me to mine some Veldspar, though, and I made certain to load a book into my cortical memory. There's little else to do but sit and watch the laser cycle. I think I shall go mad if this is how I'm expected to earn a living.

The Offer

I've been in pilot training for so long now, everything before it feels like a totally different life; the memories play like an old home video, watching through the camera's eye and only feeling the emotions vicariously. Sometimes, I've felt like I'm stuck in an endless möbius, every day a repeat of the same, every week the same cycle. It gets dull after a while, though I enjoy the classes.

I've not had much to say to the others in training with me. Most of them seem shallow and self-absorbed; many of them don't seem to be capable of finding their own heads with both hands. I wonder that the academies let them stay on so long.

I have a Velator. She's not much, a bit clunky-looking and lopsided, but I feel a bit of attachment to her; like a mongrel puppy that wants so much to love you you just can't say no. I spent a while trying to name her, but nothing seemed fitting until I saw for the first time the massive police battleships patrolling the gates. I named her 'Pequeña', since she's so tiny by comparison.

I have so little to my name, it seems. We hear tales of the great capsuleers of New Eden, making their fortunes in great acts of heroism among the stars, but that's something which happens to others. It's a goal to aspire to which seems... so unachievable, like mere mortals striving to reach the summit of the mountain of the gods.

I have my winged horse, though, my Pequeña. And I have a chance.

It seems I've been doing well enough with my training that somebody's noticed. I woke up this morning to find a message from an agent from the Center for Advanced Studies, asking if I want to work for them. How could I say no? It's what I've been working towards so hard.

So here I am, waiting for docking permission for the station in Cistuvaert with an office number to help me find this Jarck Feritte. I hope I don't get lost in there; that's a big station....