Skinman awoke from his light sleep, cramped and sore from the bulkhead jutting into his back. The heat from the warpcore cooling system was only adding to his discomfort. He had been forced to bed down here, due to having a full cargo hold of scordite, and a shipment of medical supplies that had to be stored in his quarters, lest they perish in the heat from the coolant system.
'Just like old times', he thought, remembering his childhood, when he would play hide-and-seek with his father on their hauler, running minerals for their great masters. His thoughts darkened as he recalled the last moments he had seen them; sirens piercing his ears, the ship violently shaking and the high pitched scream of air rushing into the void from hull breaches.
'Damn it. Can't sleep anyway.', he said to an empty ship. Silently he renewed his vow to find the Minmatar terrorists that had attacked his families unarmed Bestower, and to show them the justice of the Emperor.
Stretching to ease the pain in his joints and muscles, he made his way to the con.
'Might as well get an early start.', he thought, starting onboard boot computers.
Systems boot commencing.... Please Wait...
Bestower A.I. Online.
CPU.. 30%... 60%... 90%... Online.
Powergrid systems.. 40%.. 80%.. Online.
Capacitor Charging from station supply... 80%.. Charged.
Checking Shield Systems.. OK.
Checking Emergency Capsule Systems.. OK.
System Ready. Have a nice flight.
'About time.', he thought.
He opened the comms channel to the stations docking controller.
'This is The Flying Monkey, requesting undocking clearance for immediate effect.'
As he waited for a response, he sat and watched an Omen mining ship slowly rise from its hangar and make its way to the station docking port, the stations port doors lumbering back to allow the rockrat to continue on his money making mining runs.
The comms channel blinked and a nervous voice interrupted his chain of thought.
'Station control to The Flying Monkey. Clearance is denied.'
He looked back at the Omen leaving the station and seen it had halted twenty meters in front of the leviathan like doors... which had stopped partly open, with only enough space to maybe squeeze a shuttle though if it rotated 90 degrees.
What in the name of the Emperor was going on?
'Say again control?'
'Clearance is denied.'
'What's happening up there?'
'We, er.. we don't know. Hold please.'
Space almighty! He was dealing with idiots!
'Control, what are you guys smoking up there?'
'OK, FM1, we have had a major systems failure, our techs are looking into it now.'
'I would have been better staying asleep', he thought.
The comms channel opened again, but this time not from the docking controllers.
'Attention all ships, attention all ships. This is a station wide announcement. Due to unexpected hardware problems, we will be unable to dock or un-dock any ships for approximately twelve hours. Rest assured our techs are working on the problem with all possible speed, but until we can allow you clearance, please feel free to make use of the stations recreational facilities. Again sorry for the delay. Please note, that this station does not condone use of intoxicating or hallucinogenic substances within six hours of undocking. Due to the extended wait times, please be advised that all pilots will have blood samples taken before departure. Thank you for your time.'
Skinman threw his checklist across the cockpit in anger.
'TWELVE HOURS!!?, what the HELL I'm I gonna' do for TWELVE HOURS?' he stormed.
'We ARE working as fast as we can Sir.'
Damn, he had left the comms channel to the docking controller open.
'Apologies Sir, I did not imply you where responsible', he said, quickly flicking off the comms system.
There was nothing for it. He may as well go to the bar for six hours and relax, although that would be difficult knowing the amount of profit and resources that he would be unable to make for his Corporation. He could only hope that the others where having more luck today.
Shutting down the power systems, and placing the ship back into hibernation, he left to find the 'recreational services' floors on the station, making a mental note to throw the medical supplies out of his quarters when he came back. They'd be spoiled by the time he was undocking anyway, so he may as well get some decent sleep later.
'At least I'll be able to finish reading this.' he thought, tucking the 'Learning Level IV' manual under his arm as he made his way across the hangar floor.
Hehe... excellent. That was a great read Skinman!
Well done Skinman, I enjoyed that!
Hehe superb Skinman
Post it on Intergalactic Summit on EVE main forums...
Deffo stick on intergalactic summit Skinman - that were a reet good read.
OK will do
Finaly the large hangar doors opened, and Skinman guided his Bestower out into the endless void, in search of profit and resources to help keep his Corporation P.I.E. to be able to supply new ships and equipment to their highly effective frigate wing.
For days now, in-corp reports of heavy enemy losses had been chattering through the network, allowing him to move large shipments of ore and materials throughout the far reaches of the Amarr Empire, unarmed and un-escorted. Only the folly of the likes not seen since Zaragram Ardishapur could possibly halt the total control that PIE and her allies now had over the emperial worlds, allowing free trade for the righteous, and honour for the brave.
The siren abruptly broke Skinman's concentration...
He was halfway down the corridor to the con before he had even realised it..
He seen his mother forcing a small child into a pod.
He was sitting in the captains chair, looking round at the warning lights all around him.
He reached across to his left and disabled the alarm system.
Finaly feeling ontop of the situation he looked around and read from the ships onboard UPS where he was.
Hangar 14F, Hilmar VII, Moon 17.
Damn, he was still docked at this accursed station. The alarm system was one he had set to alert him of the impending possibilty to continue his mission for the Emperor.
'Docking Control, this is FM1, requesting docking clearance.'
The almost imediate response was not a good sign.
'Negative FM1. Systems are still undergoing major repairs.'
Holy space ghosts! Not only was he still stuck on this station in the middle of nowhere, but his other training manuals where located in another station a few jumps away. Was the Emperor punishing him for some misguided action he wondered?
He banished the thoughts from of his mind, vowing only to transfer to his frigate as soon as possible to make sure Emperial space was as secure as his dream had led him to believe.
'FM1 to Docking Control, you got an ET on those repairs?'
'Roger FM1, ET is two hours - or as long as is needed.'
Great. These people are as accurate as a Minmatar with a heavy pulse laser.
He settled back into his chair and started reading his Corporations in-house reports.. silently waiting for the time to vent his frustration.