After returning to the sky several weeks ago I had spent a lot of time considering my place in New Eden. I was free, I suppose, something my new Gallente employers seemed to think was the best thing in the universe, but I had to disagree. In the military I was certainly not free, but I never really had a problem with that. Actually it was quite comforting.

Freedom at this juncture meant that I could come and go as I pleased, which was welcome given my somewhat shaky state. It also meant that whatever I decided to do, the responsibility, and ultimately the bill, was on me. So it was not without some hesitation that I undocked from the Oursulaert federal navy testing facilities in a shiny new fitted and rigged Harbinger and set a course back to the corporate hanger in Charmerout.

Don’t fly what you can’t afford to lose. That was the advice I’d received in my welcome pamphlet when my planetary shuttle dropped me off at the station, and a thousand times since. That was stupid advice. Don’t pay for what you can’t afford to lose. That was better, get someone else to foot the bill then fly reckless. Wars are won and lost on that very principle.

In this particular case it wasn’t quite that bad. I could technically afford to lose and replace my new battlecruiser several times, though I really didn’t want to have to do that. But the state of the federation, at least of my neck of the woods, was somewhat dire and my trusted Maller could no longer handle the sorts of situations my employers were putting me in. It was time for a change.

I docked at the corporate hangar and felt my pod jolt as the hull of the massive battlecruiser opened and the robotic deck crane extracted my pod from within the its thick armored heart.

“What the hell is that?” It was one of my corp mates, a young minmatar. She was staring up at the Harbinger.

“It’s a brick. A brick with guns on it. We’ll see how it flies tomorrow,” and I headed back to my quarters to relax – and notify my insurance agent – before the next job came in.