Kaye was dropping off some of her knitting at the medical facility when she heard the sales pitch.

“Ya wanna fly? Really fly? Not like those poddies, wrapped in goo and so ‘connected to the ship’ that they don’t hold controls, don’t feel the thrill.”

She slowed and stood by the doorway labelled ‘Terminal Ward, Paliative only’.

The recruiter wore a flight jacket from a previous era with playing cards splayed across the back. “Ya ya, you could lie here. Be a drag on your family incomes and watch the scenery out the window over there.”

She looked at the window facing the blank wall of another wing of the hospital.

“But I mean going up there. Controls under your hands, flying in a wing of fighter bombers against ships that would blacken the sky if they ever came here. Hitting back at the universe that put you in this room. A chance to be something, to do something or . . . you can lie here, and wait to die.” He paused. “The Aces and Eights are hiring right now. you sign with us and we pick up your medical costs right off the bat. We get you into simulators and train you with pay and then you get to fly. Out there you are the light in the darkness. You are in control and you are earning cash above an beyond covering your medical bills. It is your last chance to not be a debt load on your families, a memory of someone wasting to a skeleton in a hospital bed. Fly the fighter bombers . . . come with me and be one of the Aces and Eights”

The recruiter stepped back and looked across the ward then moved in to hand out forms and take down names. Kaye watched as he quietly encouraged and reasssured hesitent men and women into signing up for their last jobs. He even approached her. “How about it missy? Ready for a life among the stars?”

Kaye swept her hair back to show the plug at the base of her skull. “Ever feel like a vulture? Doing this job?”

“No ma’am. Docs say I got about another 5 months to live. I been out there flying and I want others to get the same chance I did. They pay me a commision for each one I bring in but hell, I’d do it for free. Weren’t no sales pitch, it were the truth. Give the choice between dying in a bed or in a cockpit it is a no brainer. No offense intended, but is the flying a pod what you expected? Or were you hoping for a a yoke in your hands and a throttle at your feet? Leaning into a turn and lighting the afterburners to scream towards a target? We FLY, missy, you command.”

Kaye nodded. “You are right, and I apologise for the question. One day I may fly a carrier and I hope I can have people who care as much about what they do as you.”

*****

Flash Fiction Friday submission

She had just finished a small shopping trip to the surface of the planet and was returning to the station when she remembered that he comm was turned off because of transport regulations. Tapping it to the active mode brought a steady stream of messages and new items.

A new target

He was some famous person she had never heard of.

They had successfully recovered a small station (her heart sang at the news of a cleaner system)

War war war war war.

It seemed the famous person had friends. Like denizens of the deep of some ancient sea leviathans of mercenary and pirate organizations surfaced to strike at CPR. The battle for the other stations had turned ugly, fast. A news article called the defenders of the station brave and altruistic heroes. A second tap called up some news footage of the battle. How is one brave in a fleet of more than 50 against 6 specialized “station removal vessels”.

“The same type who think orbital bombardment to destroy a forest could be called ‘hunting wild game’.” She ran through the messages and was glad to see that all of the clones of her fellow corporation mates had been successfully used.

Returning to the news she saw a list of corporation messages that showed that there had been a spy within their midst. “To be expected, in this day and age, I suppose.” Interviews with some of the participants made her laugh delightedly.

“Usually it is the eco-conscious who are type cast as the wild eyed radicals.” She murmured to herself. “Why Ms. Wolf is the epitome of calm and rational next to those Neanderthals proclaiming this to be a great victory. And look, awww, they even made medals for themselves. I bet they were quite proud of gold stars on their spelling tests when they were young as well.”

She keyed entry into the Sigil and transferred the news broadcasts to the big screen so she could make out more of the details. She watched the ‘battle’ twice and took notes the second time. Then she went to her personal mails and tsked at the large number from people she had never heard of.

They had joined an alliance? Wars and combat standings flooded across her screen as combat status had changed a dozen times in the few days that she had been gone. “One small trip and it all comes apart.”

Then the more important mails came to the front. Most had the code tag “situation”. She created a new folder and slotted all of them to one side and then read them chronologically. “Oh! Yes that makes sense. Hmmm.”

Again, she was impressed in the maturity of her corporations well measured responses and the joining of the alliance had not been a full time plan but just a method to bleed the ‘brave defenders’ where it hurt, in their wallets. None of them had continued the war declarations past the minimum time. “Give till it is about to hurt, eh heroes?”

She quickly sent a message to the CEO and smiled as she reset her plans to open and dust all the ventilation ducts of her ships in the station. Then there was that lovely afghan blanket she had been planning to start soon. “The nice thing about children is that they have such very short attention spans.”

The situation was in disarray but she agreed with the CEO’s evaluation of the long term effects. He recruiter had warned her that there would be dangers involved as people realized what CPR was doing and now that the prediction had come true she was not about to run away. It had gotten messy . . . but with time, and a little help things would slowly become tidier than before.

She smiled and triple checks the power feeds to her ship and then proceeded to make some orders for yarn. Things would be quiet until the next shiny thing distracted the children and then they could return to creating order in systems of New Eden.

As she smiled a Hulk slowly floated past her docking bay and into space, the industrial lighting glinting off of its massive sides and gleaming as the Strip Miners caught the light.

Yes, something would distract the children soon enough.

Kaye was sighing soflty as she checked messages to see what new task the local agent had set her when the CPR channel lit. Destination Irnin IX. Target: a Large POS that showed all the signs of abandonment. Former owners were Lunar Logistics but they had shown no response to the warnings that CPR’s CEO had filed with Concord.

She double checked the board and reconfirmed her flight plan with the local control before pointing her small destroyer towards the new adventure. The passage was only a few jumps away before she was joining a handfull of pilots is shooting the very large station and admiring its attendent facilities. Advanced labs, mobile labs, cruise and torpedo batteries, all sitting out in the open with no forcefield to show the station was occupied.

She tsked and slotted into an exact orbit to maximize the output of her small vessels lasers. It was only a few minutes before she was asked why she was still flying such a small ship.

“I am saving for the battleship and cannot afford the side purchases if I am ever to get into one. I was hoping the fees garnered from the cleansing of this would speed it up a bit.”

Her heart sang as she heard more than one member of her new corp offer the loan of a battlecruiser for the purposes of this shoot. She accepted the contract from the man who had recruited her and made a quick jump to the Amarr homeworld to climb into a brand new Harbinger and swiftly outfit it for low cost and all damage. It was not made to go fast it was made to bring damage to a target.

Her return and aquisition of a new orbit was quick and the long process of the removal of a large POS ensued. Some pilots would set their ships on automatic and engage in other hobbies. Kaye spent the afternoon scrubbing the decks and polishing all the trim of the new boat before setting before the command console and knitting. She was working on a sweater and the click of the needles was in rhythm with the thrum of the lasers banks as they steadily burned into the Caldari Control Tower.

One pilot laughed as he realized he had brought poor drones for this mission, another had left his extra crystals behind. Pilots came and went as agents and other emergencies might keep them from the full looooong session but there was a steady core that kept the beams of light raining down on the target and slowly the shields fell.

Time passed as the ball of yarn was used up at almost the same rate as the shields of the station. The body of the sweater took shape and Kaye smiled quietly as she dimmed the lights in the control room and let the laser fire of a handfull of ships light the room with a flicker and flash as though she was back sitting in front of a fireplace in her parents cabin on some distant shore.

It took several hours for the shields to finally fail and there were congratulatory message between the pilots when it was obvious that they were now completely down and all damage was peeling back the armor. Siona was calm and kept people on the up to date and on task. Nara and the Funky Monkey were also steady companions. The armor was swept aside in less than an hour.

Hull damage began to show and everyone perked up. Kaye was now working on a sleeve and the knitting needles kept the pace as the armor peeled away. They ALL were caught off guard when the solar flare hit. Ships were pounded as they spun far from the anchored tower, systems shut down from the massive electromagnetic shock. Reboots were agonizingly slow as Kaye fought to bring systems back online. The fear that the POS might be brought repairing itself, that it might be somehow healed by this massive surge made her hands sweat as she reconnected and swung the Harbinger around to head back for the abandoned station. Communications came on as one after another of her fellow pilots managed to bring their beleaguered systems back and also warped back to see what the changes were.

The station had changed and some of the armor had returned but not enough to dim the spirits of the CPR and Kaye almost laughed as she locked onto the station once more. The fire schedule was swiftly back on target and the armor once again burned away and the hull started to smolder. Compared to the hours and hours it had taken to down the shields of the large station the last half hour in which the structure crumbled and melted was a nice finale.

The end of the station was vindication for the effort done by the corporation. Industrial ships moved in to clean up the mess left behind. Each module was unanchored and loaded into bays for sale at the Amarr homeworld. Kaye knew that some of the corporation was very open about why they were doing this . . . the isk. Others were here to admire the size of the explosion when the station finally blew. She was here to put order into a small piece of the universe.

The money didn’t hurt either.

She spent a few days ordering her accounts and cleaning the tubes of the lasers that had served them so well. Then she sewed off the end of the sweater and tried it on. It fit perfectly and she lowered the temperature of the ship a few degrees so she would have more reason to wear it on a regular basis.

She was as happy as a clean ship and a new pink sweater would allow.

Lessons

*******************

POS shoots take a very long time

Nothing is worse than being through the shields and armor and then the server does an unannounced shut down. Heart pounding as you try to get back on fearing the POS will be once again full shields.

BOOOMS are nice and almost worth the time spent.

I can switch users in VISTA and come back to eve still online and the lasers still shooting.

kaye

Scouting is always the key, he thought. He was looking for new prospects when he ghosted into the belt and glided silently above it where he was unlikely to be ‘bumped’ and decloaked. Miners came and went but he was looking for something specific, although if he had been asked, he would be unable to say exactly what.

Hulks, retrievers, each plunged into the belt and fired lasers at whatever rock happened to be closest. Lumbering around the asteroid belt with small drones in attendance like birds fluttering about great beasts. It was the fact that the Sigil was not part of the general scrum that made it stand out.

It entered and paused before heading for an end of the belt away from all the other ships. It hit the closest rock even though it was not the most valuable class in the field and ground it completely out before moving on to the next one. It warped away and came back to slowly, carefully chew its way through the masses, leaving nothing behind.

Each warp in was perfectly placed to attack the next rock and the methodical nature spoke of an orderly personality, not a bot. He called up the stats on the pilot. Kaye was Amarr and, until recently, a member of the military. He called up a few more details to see that she had been very recently drummed out of the same military for ‘unknown charges’. He noted the name of her and her ship and then headed to the nearest space dock and watched to see if that was her base.

It was and he docked and opened a comm requesting a bit of her time for an interview.

She arrived in a freshly pressed outfit that would easily pass as a uniform and an obvious pistol holstered on one side. The clothes held no insignia and the holster was freshly buffed though the butt of the pistol sticking out looked well worn. She sat opposite him and immediately straightened things on the table till the were all perfectly aligned. Then she looked up and nodded to him. “May I ask what this interview is about?”

He looked at the table perfectly set before him and smiled. “I am a recruiter for a corporation. I watched some of your work out in the belts today and thought you might be a possible candidate.”

“There are many better at mining than I out there.” She said, distantly. “I am just at loose ends and dislike being unoccupied.”

“I did not say I was looking for a miner. I am looking for someone who can handle jobs with exacting specifications. Who can work independently and as part of a team. I do not need details but may I ask the general reasons why you left the military?”

She eyed him for a long moment. “My superior officers felt that I was not acting in the best interests of the unit in bringing certain activities to light. I can work with other people as long as they are honest with me. I do NOT like being played for a dupe or catspaw.”

He nodded. “I assure you, what CPR, our corporation, is about is very open to your examination. In your travels have you come across abandoned and offline stations? Ones that eventually pirates take over as bases or destroy to leave wreckage across the systems?”

“I have. There ought to be a law about the duration that they can exist before being removed.” She sniffed imperiously.

“Well there is not. But there is a legal recourse for a small group of like minded pilots to do something about this. We scout out these stations and give the owners notice that they must take them down or we will do so for them. If we take them down then the funds form the sales of the derelicts go to finance our operations and pay our members.”

“You are cleaning up solar systems?” She blinked, eyes coming alive for the first time since the interview had started.

“Hopefully at a profit, but yes. Now understand some people do not like being told to clean up their act. There will be danger involved. We will be outlining a training program we wish you to follow in hopes you will become a fully active member in time.”

“Training?”

“We will want you in a battleship.” He tapped on a padd and slid it across. “I think we can usually have our recruits in one in less than a month, although finances are still the sticking point. We also pay bonuses for people who can do an orderly survey of systems lining up our possible areas of operations. A well scouted system will pay a fair percentage if we act on it.” He paused then asked. “What are your thoughts?”

She slid the padd back across and adjusted it so it was squarely oriented before him. “I think that this is a noble cause with a decent profit potential. Understand that I am working for a small public corporation, the Amarr Schools, will that be an issue?”

“No we would prefer our people could be able to fly in 0.7 space and below but we have no preferences as to what our people do in their off time as long as they make themselves available when the time comes.”

She paused for a long minute and then nodded. “Sounds acceptable. Where do I sign?”

Kaye

Kaye saluted after handing back the comm pad, having signed for the shipment. The warrant officer blinked at her stupidly for a moment, as though unsure what to do in response before returning the salute. “Riiight. so you takes the delivery to the station on the manifest . . . no opening it up mind you. They like to be sure their ‘vegetables’ stay fresh.” He seemed to find this very funny and sniggered to himself for a moment.

She squinted at the pad and said. “This is not one of our usual stops.”

“Not your job to be asking questions, Missy. You just makes the deliveries like a good little cadet.” He sniggered again and turned with a wave that distantly resembled another salute.

Kaye, after a moments hesitation returned it with one so crisp it almost made her cuffs snap in response to the movement. She returned to the ship and was en-route within five minutes. The Sigil glided through warp space as she ran standard system checks and recorded each detail in the log fastidiously. It irked her to not double check the cargo as per standing orders but the specific ones to this mission forbade that.

Clearing the last gate into the destination system was a new experience for her as this was the first time she had been outside of Amarr space. It didn’t look different but the local communications network was lit up with at least three different fleet callsigns. She double checked her logs but there were no combined maneuvers expected for this region.

The comm crackled once more. [I say again. Give her to me and nobody needs to get hurt.] The comm listed the speaker as Mike Azariah, she triggered an info check on him as the visual snapped on and the reply came across in both audio and visual. {You are outmatched this time and as you can see, she is here and staying with me.}

The screen showed a morbidly obese man holding a slavers leash which terminated around the neck of a woman whose eyes were glazed over. She wore loose silks of a classic slaver image. The man tugged on the leash and triggered the electronics within it, the woman writhed in pain for a moment but the eyes stayed glassy and the face did not change. {Tell Mr. Azariah you are staying with me.}

{I am staying with my master.} She said in a wooden voice. {Please. Go.} The last held a hint of emotion which ended with another tug of the leash and her dropping to the floor in pain whispering to herself.

Kaye’s face twisted with disgust as she realized the source of the visual was from her destination station. She called up an image in the database and saw that this spineless thing with the leash in his hands was her local contact. She triggered the audio to be relayed throughout the ship and left the autopilot in charge as she raced back to the hold.

[You are a dead man.] Azariahs voice was the calm that held his rage in check. [I don't care how much of a fleet you place between us, I am coming for her, and for you. As for the rest of you. Ladies, gentlemen. Your Empress has forbidden the practices this man flaunts before you. Has he so bought your souls that you will stand in my way?]

#We have our orders. You are an outlaw in Amarr space# Kayes head spun as she recognized the voice of her commanding officer. She swiftly cracked open the case of ‘vegetables’ and stared down at the vials of drugs in cold packs. Boosters, mind wipers, it was a cornucopia of every pharmaceutical she knew of and many she had no idea what they were.

[We are not in Amarr space. I am begging you, stand down and leave this between me and him.]

{Enough chit chat. You have your orders, people. Miss Dom and I shall watch as you kill this outlaw and you will continue to be paid and supplied.} A slight pause was followed by a very cold command. {Fire}

The autopilot chimed as they left warp and Kaye ran back to see that she was now a fat target in a very heated battle. Blues all around her were pouring laser fire at a single cruiser that raced to close the distance then danced back as its shields flared. One red target, then six. He had popped drones that began to fire without moving. The cruiser looped about as two frigates from the Amarr fleet melted under the fire. Then the drones were scooped up again and Azariah was on the move.

In spite of herself Kaye watched the battle and found that she was cheering on both sides. The Amarr fleet moved with the precision that made her heart sing yet the Ishtar kept just out of reach and slammed one ship after another if they came too close. Space was littered with wrecks in the space of half an hour and she began to mount rescue operations, snagging pod after pod as her ship slid between ravening beams and drones that passed her yet never targeted her.

Never did Azariah fire on a pod nor would he give chase when ships pulled away from the combat. It took the better part of an hour until there were only two ships left still moving in the area. His and hers. Five Ogres orbited his ship like hounds tugging at their leads. [Do you need assistance?]

She jumped as she realized he was speaking to her. “Shouldn’t you be shooting me, or something?”

A snort was her answer then the Ogres spun away from the pair of them and headed for the station. [If you will excuse me, I have one last piece of business to attend to.]

“Wait!” She spoke without thinking, hoping what she was doing would be the right thing to say. “I need your guns for a moment.” Her hold manifest appeared in her minds eye and she initiated an jettison. The ‘vegetables’ left the hold with a whooosh. “If you could make sure this is not salvageable?”

There was a pause as his ship closed the distance swifter than she would have thought possible. A beam swept the jetcan and then Azariah answered. [They won't thank you for this, ma'am.]

“no, I expect this will go poorly for my career.” She was almost speaking to herself. “is it hard, going solo?’

[Yes and no. But if you ever find yourself too alone send word. I would recommend you find yourself a corp that thinks like you do. That always makes the rest easier."] His guns spoke briefly and the drugs were vapor spreading in space.

She sighed and set her course back for Amarr space, not staying to see how this ended. She was fairly sure the damsel would be rescued. “After all, I suppose he rescued me . . . ”

The charges against her were numerous and she was drummed out of the service in a very quiet trial. On her first day, weeks later, as a civilian she was notified that her ship was ready for her in docking bay. Curious as to what ship was being referred to she went down to the bays and saw a Sigil floating there. Just inside the entryway was the slavers leash, It was tightly coiled and had blood upon it. Beside the leash was a small hand written note. “Thank you”

She hung the leash beside the door and touched it with a gentle hand before entering her ship and setting a course for her new life.

*************************

Lessons

The three character slots are so you can try different tacks with your play style. I have but one account but now there will be two storylines playing out, here.

Drone control is essential. Make sure YOU are the one calling the targets, not the Drones

But leave them aggressive so if you get jammed bad things will still happen to the bad guys.

mike