Varied Important Persons
21 Jan 2017Monolith Preacher
So I finally decided to talk to these engineers people have been going on and on about. A bit late on the ball, perhaps, but I'm a Preacher, not a Journalist, and so I'm not usually one to take so much of an interest in galactic affairs unless they affect my backwater. What with the Archon's forces being so sporadic of late, I've been focusing my efforts the well-being of my wing and myself, but when even my own wingmates started harping on about the wonders of modern advances in technology, I decided 'twas about time to see the fruits of such labours.Well, suffice to say that, besides my lack of appreciation for the fine art of firing a laser at a rock for hours on end, the results are rather nice. I've managed to make my beloved Packhounds even more useful by causing them to stop people's engines, and I've been working on making myself known to most of the engineers that may prove useful to me in the future. It'll also give me a reason to finally work out what those trade unionists at the Alliance are about, as if I want my Hammers to be upgraded I'll finally need to start handing in those bounties for them I always left to rot.
That being said, it did mean I had to go out on another VIP trip recently to get on the right side of Elvira. I took two missions to places a lot closer than Colonia this time to be safe. So away I went to Patchwork Plains, an oddity in that it's a single system nebula. My passenger seemed rather interested in the place, and I must admit I was curious too. As it turned out, I was glad for the 24mil payout, as the place itself looked like an angry fart, all green and brown splotches in the stars, and the planet we had to land on was so pock-marked I could barely find anywhere to sit my Beluga for the night. It was so ugly 'twas the first nebula I've not even bothered taking pictures for our Black Omega Blog back home. I was afraid we'd lose more viewers than we gained if I was to stick that on the feed, considering how bad i am at toilet humour.
Anyway, the job was done relatively quickly, and I was making good time on my route to Cupid's Arrow on the way home for my other VIP. Normally, I make sure to remember names, but this occasion means I need to be quiet about such things. Because this VIP was untenable. As much as my passenger on the way out had something of an overbearing exuberance about them, the return flight passenger was entirely conceited. Firstly, he was adamant about going to his place first, and I rightly surmised 'twas because he expected me to turn around and drop him back before going back out for the other trip instead of completing a round route. Then, when I told him on the way back that he'd signed me up for a mission my Beluga couldn't take with its current weight limit due to how sparse the stars were out there, he was positively livid when I told him that i'd have to dock and let of my Patchwork friend and re-fit my ship before taking him back out again. Suffice to say some champagne, spice, and onionhead calmed his protests in the dock, but I let him think the mil I spent on them was more of an effort to me than it actually was just to test his ability to empathise. It was a this point I realised he had none, as he was pompous enough to ask if I could restock out of my own pocket for the way out there, then blamed me for giving him a habit the whole way along. Ii may be one to feed existing habits, but I'm not one to give people new addictions beyond the need to worship the Monolith daily. I clocked what he wanted and got it ere he asked for it, and then he assumed that I had no idea beforehand that he had the shakes when he came aboard. It would've been cute if it wasn't for the fact he was at least smart enough to realise the disco biscuits at Deggie's club were being sold by people in our own pockets.
Still, I decided that, seeing as they'd both been successfully converted by my tried and tested Monolith Conversion Doorway Mechanisms, I could at least finish the job and get all this over with, knowing I had two more high-ranking recruiters in my midst. I stripped the weapons and shields off my Beluga and decided to get the trip back out to Cupid's Arrow done in one sitting to appease our impatient guest. 2.5K might sound a lot to a bubblehead, but to those of us that've been corewards or further, it's a light jog. So a few hours later I was running on half a tank trying to work out a way into the nebula from below, and getting frustrated that there was still no apparent route in from the 500Ly mark. I turned to my esteemed passenger and asked if he knew of a route that my system might have overlooked. I must admit at this point in the story that it was something of a logic trap. Sheng had tinkered with my route plotter to the point it could safely guide me through anything my ship could fly to, and Scarlet had taught me a few entrapment techniques I wasn't aware of back during my days on the racing circuit. heck, she'd promised to give me more tips once I'd sorted red FdL out to join me racing, but I digress. The passenger stated in the most blasé manner that the route he had on his system called for a twenty five light year jump range, pointing to the route on the screen of a tablet he conveniently produced from his jacket which had hitherto remained unknown to me.
I took a deep, calculated breath, waiting just a moment beyond that of a usual sigh to make him think I might have something caught in my throat. I reached my right hand into my left jacket pocket as I coughed, and drew out a stiletto blade in a two stroke motion to the right and then straight downwards. He screamed at me for breaking his tablet before realising I had also skewered his hand to the desk. It always makes me laugh how slow pain receptors can be when someone is in a state of shock. He looked up confused and started wailing incoherently. I put my left hand into my back pocket and drew a straight razor from my pocket, which I started twirling around my fingers to get his attention.
"We seem, sir, to have finally come to an impasse."
His eyes finally regained focus and he managed to steady his breathing. "What do you mean, an impasse?" his pupils thinned, whether due to pain or outrage I could not tell. "I've got 8mil waiting for you to finish this contract when we get back, and you came unprepared for the job!"
I took half a step towards him, moving around the table to the right as he kept speaking. I put my right hand into my trouser pocket and felt for my flick knife
"It's not my position to tell such a person as yourself you need to have upgraded your FSD in order to make the trip! This is a modern world, and despite this place looking like a crypt for your unique selling point to a bunch of wasted cybergoths from your stupid club, I'd assumed you knew how to keep up with the ti-"
My razor sliced his from the left corner, my flick knife from the right, and I spread his mouth open to the ears. "If you're going to keep flapping like that, sir, I'm afraid I'll have to tell you some jaw-dropping news." I placed both of the knives down either side of his skewered hand, opened a drawer beneath the table to produce a cloth, and set to work cleaning my two knives as his remaining hand struggled to hold his tongue in his head. I found that a welcome change.
"I regret to inform you that your offer of payment, which wouldn't actually cover my insurance for this venture should I have run out of fuel as it seems you would have allowed me to do had I not asked you about this route, shall be declined. And as loathe as I am to allow another high-value convert to the Monolith Preacher Enlightenment Foundation go to waste, 'tis a sad fact that our conversion method only allows for the elucidation of faith, not the change of one's personality at a base level to those which I, at least, find tenable."
His eyes were starting to lose focus, and I knew that anything I said henceforth was likely to be more for my own benefit than for his, but I continued nonetheless.
"For you see, despite your thought that the admittedly gothic interiors of your suite made you think about mortality whilst you were gleefully torturing the slaves left manacled for your amusement, at no extra cost I might add, it was in fact implanted in your head from the first time you entered. This ship converts everyone who does, save those savvy enough with their technology to scan the electromagnetic fields ere they enter and ask me what's amiss. You may be smart, good sir, but you are also uncouth. I find that unbecoming, but I would've let it pass. The fact you are a liar-"
A loud thump stopped me towards the end of my statement as his body lost the ability to hold itself up an he slumped awkwardly to the floor. I removed my stiletto from his hand and he lay there crumpled up, his elongated maw apparently attempting to consume his knee joint in a foetal death pose which was quite comical. I thought of taking a picture for the blog, but decided against it.
"The fact you are a liar is why you are dead."
Still, the whole experience had made me a week early on my scheduling, and I had realised how long it had been since I had checked up on some old associates, so I decided to fly back to HIP, drop off my Beluga, and take Scarlet on a little tour around the black in the Ravager. Her FdL was top-notch, but they don't have a great jump range, so she jumped at the chance to fly around in my ghost ship to see her first nebulae. I thought it fitting to take her to Cupid's Arrow to begin with, and from there we went to the Elephant's Trunk and back via the Cave. I would've taken pictures, but she kept me rather busy when I wasn't flying. I may be a Preacher, but I've never been a saint, and we both ended up somewhat tied up with or by each other from time to time. I dropped her off at Tjakiri before checking up with Marra to see what had been going on in my absence. It turned out that we'd had a few promotions since I had been gone, and it seems I really should have bothered talking to some of the new recruits, as enough time had passed that some people I'd never met had managed to attain the same rank as myself. Whilst I was happy we were expanding, I was surprised I had allowed myself to be so complacent. I'm usually pretty sociable, but I suppose we all fall off the map some time, and I had held out for CMDR Deaththreat to be a new recruit ere she disappeared with her Viper to who knows where. Apparently Stryker had found some weird cult not too far away from our sphere of influence, and something told me I might need to get the information to go pay them a visit soon and show them the blacklight of our faith system.
A more immediate concern, however, was that during my week off our resident smartly dressed antiques expert had decided to take my Beluga for a spin in my absence. Apparently he'd over-estimated the amount I spent on it and racked up a rather large insurance claim for himself when the interior went to smithereens. It seems he'd managed to disable the CMDR verification system along with an accomplice of his, and..well, I decided to find out just how much he'd done to my ill-fated cruise ship when I met him. I could imagine it might be a rather interesting conversation, and I was interested to see if they'd noticed the doors on the way in or whether I'd find myself walking into a new convert brimming with theological questions. Apparently he was a bit of a knife nut, though, so I'm sure we'd at least have one thing in common.