I booked a fare for a sightseeing trip and needed to finish my checklist before leaving. The night before, I had some bad genetically enhanced pseudoburger-helper which kept me awake for most of the evening. A hit of strong Crash put me out, thank goodness. I loaded the auto-feeder for my 2 Fedos; Julio and Tibor, with that horrible smelling lumpy gruel they favored and thought about the next cumbersome chore—filling my pod for immersion. I always used the cheap grade stuff; the premium grade pod goo was merely for shows-offs. The Crash had given me a hangover as I had a bit of a problem with the stuff. I was thinking of a 12-step program, but decided countering it daily with a dose of Frentix would do for now. It seemed to work and as an immortal—if I experienced an overdose or massive organ failure—meh.
I was hoping to meet someone on this trip and not just the average million prostitutes on any one of these new Titan Tours. They were sketchy, and death was a real possibility, but I’m friggin’ immortal so who cares, right? I had bought quarters in the Shenda system and the boarding was in Yehaba. No problem. Just that darn Hier gate camp that never left.
The journey took all of 10–12 minutes and while they tried, the huge camp I was expecting had no chance to beat the align time of the Violator I picked up at a great deal. I was flying along in my cheap Minmatar shuttle one day and the Violator dropped from a freighter kill, which I scooped. The killers were not happy with me and now I had a bounty, whatever that meant. It was definitely an upgrade from my shuttle. I do miss only needing duct tape, aluminum siding and some 2×4’s for repairs. That nano paste gets all over and cost an arm and long limbed roe.
Boarding was normal, with the usual deep scan designed to avoid any crazy Blood Raiders. Those crazy cultists strap themselves with a few kilos of antimatter, and make a small briefly lasting sun that was getting annoying for everyone, especially the mortals. Game over for them. It personally gives me a headache…but to see Caroline’s Star up close is worth it.
I really wondered what those maniac Joves were up to. Fruit loops with enhanced intelligence…yay. The fact that Sansha Kuvakei was active didn’t really fill my future with a flowery outlook either. I’ll take the slave implants that don’t actually turn you into a slave, thanks very much.
The cruise ship was a Ragnarok class Titan named Bob’s Your Uncle. Again my lovely Minmatar. I’m not rich so I could only afford a room in the cheapest section near the fusion reactor. Vitoc addicts on the nod in the hallway I had sympathy for as well—it’s stay high or die with that stuff. I hear the buzz is crazy, but no thanks. Rumors of an antidote floated around, but it seemed far fetched. Vitoc was a one way road to Squaresville, Daddy-O.
Speaking of which, I had adopted the ancient hairstyle called the “Jellyroll” which required much refined petroleum oil. I even bought a leather jacket from a friend on a planetary colony, which was basically a 10’s of million square kilometer dude ranch. I declined a ten gallon hat as it messed with my hair.
I was sitting in one of the dingy lounges where there was an extremely grumpy bartender who had the typical clone fixtures. His name was Kai; he was down on his luck and had to take any job he could find. Being a Brutor, I avoided direct eye contact. I really wanted to make it to the destination without a Khumaak sticking out of my back.
I saw a really smoking Gallente lady who was also a capsuleer, at one of the booths. I don’t know if it was the constant space-drug intake, but I got the nerve to walk over and introduce myself. She turned her head in my direction and I nearly fainted—she had a monocle. Only the most disgustingly rich could afford those. Apparently the Galactic Commission of Omnipotence (shortened to CCP for some reason) had made them for the rich to make their ships nearly invulnerable. After a serious protest where something was burned, it was decided to merely be a fashionable eyepiece of status.
She actually smiled when I introduced myself and didn’t pull out a laser-blaster…phew. We talked and got some wine and I thought this could go places. Her family owned fertilizer producing colonies all over New Eden, and although she herself had no bovine features, she was stunning.
I am a strong believer in getting to know someone before fornication as there were some really funky diseases out there. I asked her if she wanted to meet at the forward observation deck when we arrived at our destination; she smiled and agreed. I was on nebula cloud nine.
When we arrived at the closest system, I went to go meet the beautiful Gallente lady of my dreams, her orange hair making me feel like a young mortal again. She was there and they were just opening the aluminum siding, er, blast shielding. The supernova or whatever it was, was huge compared to where I currently called home. It was clearly expanding and took almost the complete viewing area. A greenish hue quite unfamiliar and strange to the eye as if this colour was somehow not meant to be seen or processed by the human visual cortex—a paradox within an enigma—in plastic wrap.
I met my Gallente goddess and we stared at the anomaly. We talked and got into deep issues like our favorite body washes, pod goo, and began a healthy complaining about the time when ships all of a sudden started moving like molasses on a cool day. We both agreed it was a fall on the quantum level. Back then, I really loved renting the occasional interceptor and was able to outrun missiles; 36km/second was a real rush. We both voiced our concerns about the poor slaughter of the budget-version alpha clones. I’m sure many were just biomassing or setting their clone tanks to standby. I wanted to impress so I told her a story of my scanning adventures. I had attained my Bachelor of Scanning degree with the new skill injectors and told her about a very strange cosmic signature I had come upon. (Side note: Aloe vera worked great for the track marks, for those who need a solution.)
It was really difficult to pinpoint, even with a specialized implant and a Cheetah I had owned for a short period. It took about 15 minutes as I had deduced it was moving somehow. A moving cosmic signature? Finally I got the warp point and while concerned for my current clone, my interest got the best of me. I entered warp for a short travel of about four AU. When I landed I was in a really strange place. It was quite colorful, like a rainbow with sparkles, and the signature itself was a small ship resembling a zephyr. I scanned it and I heard some strange music on replay; it was mesmerizing. I pulled within close proximity and noticed a plaque on the ship with something written on it. When I magnified the image, it said “Iggy Stardust was here”. We both agreed it was a Space Oddity.
All of a sudden, I saw something that sank my heart and made me know this date would be cut short. An orange ball with blue lightning, a cynosurgical field appeared, followed by an Avatar-class Amarr titan with a support fleet. Two plus two told me Amarr hated Minmatar and vice versa. Suddenly the ship was rocked by several gigantic explosions and klaxxons started wailing. The Public Announcement-bot told everyone to proceed to escape pods. The ship was immediately under attack and not fairing well. The Gallente lady and I shared personal IP info as we were quite sure this was the end, and time for another beginning…sigh. There was a brief flash and some discomfort as my body was vaporized.
I awoke in Shenda. Tibor and Julio were pawing at the clone-bay glass, apparently glad to see me when they noticed the chamber transfer my conscience, something they had grown used to. I got out and spent some time with my fedo buddies. They were learning some new tricks, and the secret was repetition of phrases and movements about a million times. They would sit when I asked them to now which was brilliant, being as their intelligence was akin to single celled organisms.
The answering machine bleeped. It was a message from the lady: She wondered if I’d like to go see an exhibition of fan-submitted art? While not overly interested in memes and GIF’s, I know it’s give and take in a relationship. I wondered how she would look like bald? A verbal outburst escaped my new lips: “I’m Flying!”. Gonna go mine some space farts so I can afford flowers and chocolates. Fullerite C320 here I come!