Fallout

“No I don’t care how much it costs.  I’ve been doing this for 4 years now, I’m not going to worry about the damn kredits this time!” Corelin “shouted” from the depths of his pod to the agent deep in Caldari space.  “Find out what’s on those lists, get it and have it delivered to Motsu station… the one you are in… by tonight!”  Ending the call Corelin relaxed his mind and body as much as he could in his capsule.  He could have decanted into his quarters in station, but it seemed alien and unnatural after all these years.  While he did step out once in a while, for the sake of variety as much as anything, he barely felt human.

A stable of ships hovered nearby, a sinister looking Devoter dominated the view, being the currently selected ship.  A brief mental command moved a different ship.  A humble Badger Mk II to the front of the queue, the Devoter drifting back against a dock further away.  One of the capsuleer’s text channels pulsed urgently as Corelin boarded the Badger and requested permission to undock.

“Corelin what’s this about you wasting a ton of isk?  I didn’t think think you went in for that sort of thing?”

“I don’t Vorg, but this is different.  I’ve had a good year even if the wallet doesn’t show it now, and anyway it’s the right thing to do.  We may not ALWAYS do it but it needs to be done,”

“Well, ok buddy,  but you know you’ve got a lot better things to spend the kredits on!”

“I hear ya, but trust me, it’s the right thing to do,”

The Badger jumped out of lowsec, and started the long flight to Motsu.  Scans in Niarja and Madirmilire by the lurking suicide gankers revealed an empty badger… fit for can baiting.  As the ship passed Kaaputenen the contracts display blinked up.  A long, long list, clothing, holo tablets loaded with books and instructional videos, food, medicine, tools, toys, repair materials, one entry was incongruous enough to raise Corelin’s eyebrow even in the normally static pod fluid.

In Motsu an agent’s comm panel buzzed urgently.

“10 cases of ‘Minmatart FTW’ posters?  This is supposed to be a charity event to kids on Waira IV, what the heck do they need fourteen hundred posters for?” ‘yelled’ Corelin.

“Hey boss you called me, told me to order everything on the list.  I ordered it, I’m not gonna miss out on something just because it’s weird.”  Said the agent.  “If you don’t want ’em, sell ’em.”

The agent ended the conversation and Corelin stewed in his pod fluid until the Badger docked.  In Motsu he decanted, and headed straight for the medbay.  The shots a capsuleer has to take to interact with people are painful, and the sensory blockers prevent him from flying, sometimes for weeks, but some things can’t be done by Neocom.  All the shots but a few were complete and Corelin’s pale arm was marked with dozens of needle marks by the time he walked out.  The last few shots were loaded into hypo canisters for when he landed on Waira.

Groggy and sore he went down to the hangar, loading all the crates himself onto pallets he sent the lifters to the Badger.  That task done he walked back into the gantries to re-board his pod and start the final leg of his journey.

On Waira a comm panel in a school house buzzed raucously.  A young woman keyed it “Yes?”

“Hey baby sis.  You can take down the list for your kids.  I’ve covered it, AND I’ve got the materials your school and Hab dome needs for repairs after the flooding.  Oh and find out why your kids need so many Minmatart posters would you?”

Happy Holidays.