Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Now, where did I put my PLEX...

I hate being grounded.

Even as a kid, I spent hours devouring Galnet news reports of the exploits of the immortal capsuleers.  Old alliance tournaments, wars that saw the entirety of outlaw space burn, heists worth unimaginably large amounts of isk, it had always seemed like the ideal life for me.  Everything on the ground was just so boring compared to the wonder that was the stars.

So I joined them, became one of them.  Shortly after I turned 16 standard years old, I was accepted into the Center for Advanced Studies to undergo capsuleer training and implantation at their station in orbit around the twelfth moon of the fifth planet, an opportunity I jumped at.  I mean, who wouldn't? Even flying a training vessel for the first time, those crappy Velators that everyone start with, the ones that get handed out like candy to children, was an experience unlike any I'd ever had before.

I've come a long way since then.

The voice from the comm snapped me back to reality.

"Uh... come again?"

An exasperated sigh came from the comm.  "I said," groused the female voice, "that the hangar report just came in.  Everything you gave to me for safekeeping is still there, including your stupid goddamn Tengu that you never shut up about.  Once your implants and bank account are reactivated, I'll transfer your money over to you."

That was Anna.  Anna Lynne Larson, if one wanted to be formal about it.  Probably one of the few friends I had left, she had been living it up preying on other capsuleers in the less-secure areas of Gallentean space.  A "pirate", as it were.  She'd also been holding all of my stuff for me during the bureaucratic mix-up that resulted in my pilot's license being revoked for the past few months.  I had gone three months without flying, three months with dormant implants in my head, three months of sitting in a small rented room waiting for the paperwork to catch up so I could fly again.

"Thank you dear," I replied mockingly.  As she rolled her eyes, I added, "and don't knock Princess Luna.  I'm pretty sure she's the source of every Hurricane you've flown and gotten blown up ever since you could fly the damn things."

"Whatever.  Oh, and one more thing, apparently CONCORD is going to make you buy a license extension anyways.  Have fun with that."

With that parting shot, the hologram winked out, signifying the closure of the comm channel.  Just as I flipped back to an oddly titled news report ("The Mate War"?  Really?), a message ping came in letting me know that I had been granted access to my hangar and assets.  A quick check revealed that everything was indeed in place and that I once again had access to the knowledge stored within my implants.  Five minutes later, and my wallet was down quite a bit of isk, but my license to fly had been restored.

"Fucking finally..."

And as I settled into the familiar embrace of the capsule, I thought:

I fucking hate being grounded.

tl;dr I'm back