My executioner slipped out of cloak at 3000 meters per second. The skies of Pimebeka were comforting. I was home.

Entering the Tash-Murkon region, seeing the sky change suddenly from the cool green of essence to the deep peach of the Amarr empire sent a shockwave of memory and fear through my brain. My ship shuddered for a brief moment, and I was back in control. The focus training had helped.

I docked at the Carthum factory and once out of my pod took the mag elevator to the R&D level. The freight elevator shuddered as the inertial dampers powered up. Shoddy Carthum factories, I thought as I checked the biometrics monitor on my portable neocom, guess that’s how they keep prices down. The elevator itself was little more than a metal box contained within an open lattice of girders and magnets. It was essentially a rail-gun, with the elevator as the bullet and I was inside. At the speed we were traveling one trajectory deviation would mean a quick ride back to Charmerout, assuming my neocom caught the breach. I checked my neocom again, just to be sure.

The lift came to an abrupt stop, the dampers lessening the jolt significantly but not completely, and the doors slid open with a metalic squeal. It had been a long time since I set foot on a factory floor. It was always breathtaking.

Before me was the skeleton hull of an Apocalypse, enormous like God’s hammer. A thousand drones swarmed about the hull like flies around the caracas of some great beast. In this case, of course, instead of decaying the carcas was being assembled, reborn. Tritanium dust rained from the hull as the drone swarm cut, bent and welded the components into place.

“A person is just a constellation of dust from the stars,” the old childhood poem rolled off of my lips unexpectedly as I walked past the great hull toward the managment offices, “blown by the winds of creation…”

“But Amarr are made from dust chosen by God, and his breath alone is what guides them,” continued a voice from behind me. I turned to see a young Khanid woman, beautiful in the way Khanid often are. She approached me, and tucking a handfull of datasheets beneath her left arm extended her right to shake my hand. “I assume you’re Ghenna, I’ve been expecting you.”

I started to salute, and then stopped myself and shook her hand. Old habits die hard. “Yes, I’ve been sent by corporate to deliver some blueprints and datacores, they are being offloaded now. I’ll stay to see that everything is in order.”

“I’m sure that isn’t necessary,” she replied, shuffling through her datasheets. “Though we do appreciate your dedication to security.” She found whatever she was looking for and offered the datasheet to me, “please, have a look.”

It was a real-time construction status on an Abaddon. It was at 45% completion.

“That is a very nice ship,” I said, handing her the datasheet.

“That’s your ship,” she replied, shuffling the Abaddon datasheet back into it’s proper place in her bundle. Corp is setting up a branch office in Amarr space, and with the Gallente office doing well, it seems most appropriate for you to oversee defense out here, at least until we get on our feet.

I didn’t know what to say, it was a very nice ship, easily the biggest I’d ever piloted. Even in my navy days I’d never flown anything larger than a cruiser. An Abaddon as well, the ship had been a rumor whispered about in dark corners in those days.

“Thank you madame,” I stammered, “I’ll make good use of it.” I saluted instinctively. She giggled.

“You’re not in the navy soldier, no need for all that. We have some tachyons we rolled off the assembly line this morning, they should be in your hangar within the hour. A bit different from what you’re used to I imagine, but with your expertise in gunnery I suspect you’ll get up to speed in short order.”

“Yes madame,” I fought the urge to salute, “I should head back to Charm then, and get my effects in order.”

“Very good, we have everything under control here,” she said tapping on one of her datasheets, “And call me Afwal.”

“Yes mad- Afwal. And thank you.” She nodded, and I turned to head back to my ship.

“And Ghenna,” I turned to look at her, the small Khanid woman standing calmly while a thousand drones swarmed behind her sending sparks and dust raining from the massive Apocalypse hull, now noticeably more complete than it had been only minutes ago.

“Welcome home.”