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ChristianBlood Blood
It’s an odd name for a Gallente citizen, don’t you think?
Well, it represents a family tradition, but there is also some lore about the Blood family name. All family members have only one unique name: their first. The middle and last name is always Blood. This tradition stretches back as far as the family records can recall. The middle and last name refers always to status of purity. One can be of “pure Blood,” or “true Blood.” Naming conventions in our family often reference “an Emperor of Men,” or the Sangunius who was—or is now—a King, or a great general, or both. With numbers that are higher than average, the Bloods are able to endure the rigors and trials of becoming Capsuleers, so there just may be a hint of truth to these old legends after all.
Let me tell you of how ChristianBlood became a capsuleer.
He began his life as much of the upper crust of Gallente citizens do. He attended the finest preparatory schools and appeared at both the casual and formal functions of leading and well-respected families.
After some years at university, ChristianBlood began to reflect upon his life, but also the existence of so many of his peers. His reaction was one of complete disgust. The drivel that was quoted without thought by the pierced, the wildly tattooed, their mouth pieces on the center stage, it made him want to put the hypocrites out of their pathetic and miserable existences. As these feelings began to boil over, he made a decision. ChristianBlood joined the Gallente Navy.
It was rash, and it did not sit well with his parents. Their reaction, a negative one, was mostly a mechanism for coping with their fear of loss. Would they lose their only son?
While the military was an honorable place to hold rank, the actual duty involved a laborious station life that was well below that expected of a Blood. The ramifications and consequences of making such a bold and hasty decision would later mold ChristianBlood into a planner, an organizer, and a shrewd tactician.
When ChristianBlood found the Navy, it was a far cry from the discipline and grandeur that he had anticipated for his future existence. Right then, he began planning his own future. And it was not the future that his parents, his family, and his friends had expected. It was not what society was telling him to do. As the captain of a Gallente Navy Frigate, he took the opportunity to fly as many missions as possible through pirate hot-spots, gate-camps, and lower-security space. He flew often, and he flew dangerously.
Once, while flying on the frontier of Gallente space, ChristianBlood had drinks in a bar that was seedier than those he was normally accustomed to. The drinks were cheaper. He was running low on currency because of unexpected and unforeseen family business losses. It was here that ChristianBlood encountered his first Capsuleers. The man he noticed was Minmatar, simply a brute of man. His skin was dark, beaten down against his bones and yet buffered by sinew and hard-earned muscle. He was the salt of Alentene IV; the salt of at least one planet. Just by his appearance, the grayish dust that coated his clothing, and the gruff, lonely expression, ChristianBlood could tell he was a miner, an industrialist. He looked as if could crush the asteroids with his own bare hands. A capsuleer of his hardiness would never require the assistance of mining lasers, tractor beams, much less an exposure suit.
ChristianBlood tried to remain inconspicuous, but he attempted (rather poorly), to eavesdrop upon the lively and robust conversation that the Minmatar capsuleer was having with his fellow pilots. These men were having a great laugh at the expense of one of their own. It seems that the pilot in question had lost his newest mining barge to a group of pirates, collectively a part of the Serpentis faction. It became apparently clear to ChristianBlood that the loss of a ship due to combat with a fellow capsuleer was unfortunate, but not necessarily damning of character.
However, if that same capsuleer lost a ship to “rats” like Serpentis, it could be a downright humiliating event.
Mustering as much courage and bravado as he could manage, ChristianBlood approached the table where the capsuleers sat. Before he could even get out a proper introduction, one of the pilots raised a hand to gesture and interrupted him: “Ssspiiit it out nav boy—wha cha want with us?”
ChristianBlood held fast. “It is not a matter of what I want from you. Rather, I want to know how I can assist you and your safety. I want to help secure and enforce law, to bring a sense of order to this section of Gallente space.”
The sound of laughter was deafening and it involved much pounding upon the round, metallic bar table. The man spit upon the floor at ChristianBlood’s feet, and he took a big swig of his drink before responding.
“Go back to Bille, or Atlantis, and sit on the gate with the rest of your Navy pilots. Leave the real exploration of space to us.” The man paused to fold his cuffs up over his wrists.
“And... piss off with your ‘laws’ and rules while you’re at it.”
Then, it was Arvuedeu Aguardol who spoke up, motivated either from feelings of pity or from his own desire to mitigate conflict. “Myititi, bring this young pilot a glass of your finest spiced wine. Bring us the whole bottle and not the crap that you keep under the bar.” He paused with a grin, and then held up his hands. “As a matter of fact, bring a bottle for each of us, and when those are empty, bring us each another.”
The nearby server/owner, Myititi, paused and then approached the table. “Vood, do you know how much that costs per bottle? Your credit is clean with us, but that’s still going to amount to a hardy sum of ISK.”
Arvuedeu gave her a stern look. “Question me again, My, and I may have to find a cleaner rock to crawl under in the future.”
Myititi replied as any good server might, and she walked away mumbling to herself. “I’m on it, I’m on it. I only hope you have the ISK this time and that I am not banking on your next big Arkonor haul to come in.”
She headed towards the stairs, up to the loft, an arms depot and the general holding room of both the reputable and the unsavory types of illicit goods.
As Christian sat down at the table, the discussion quickly shifted to mining. “An Arkonor deposit Vood, you been holding out on us?” asked Utrela Jenatul, who was also Minmatar, but had a much softer, and cleaner appearance about him.
“Well to be honest boys, I have been there and back. I spent the last three days there to be honest with yas.” And with that he pulled a nugget of a grayish rock with crimson stripes and small flecks of gold interwoven among it.
“Prime!” Tyrla Talater whistled. “And where in the fookin universe have you been hiding this find Vood?”
“I found a wormhole to Null sec.” Vood responded off handily.
At which point, My brought each of the pod pilots a bottle of wine. Without any hesitation Fohan Teldair, took the bottle and opened it by pushing the plastic stopper down the neck of the bottle, and emptying half of its contents in several large gulps.
Utrela, spoke “Han, you’re a fookin animal”.
“Sorry Rel, not all of us grew up with parents, you know” Han spoke back sarcastically.
Oh please, Han, that that was what ten or eleven lifetimes ago?
More like fifteen, or have you forgotten about the last gate camp we encountered?” Tyrla said with a slight smug and demeaning laugh.
“Good point” Vood spoke up. “What exactly are we going to do about, Quality Engineering Products, and there ganking our miners?”
“I lost a squad to them yesterday” Han replied. “Rats, are one thing, but damn them, coming in and ganking the schick out of our mining fleets!”
“Well, that’s why I went to KAHN Conglomerate, myself,” Vood replied. “The enemy of my enemy, is my friend, or at least for now, not on my kill on sight list, as the old saying goes”
“What’s the plan?” Tyrla asked.
“Well” Vood responded in a somber and hushed voice.
Just then, My brought two replacement bottles of spiced wine, for each of the Capsuleers. This caused the conversation to abruptly cease. As she left the bottles on the table, the miners began, opening their perspective bottle, with the exception of Hans, who made a point to push the plastic stopper into the neck of the bottle, causing a small stream of wine to hit Utrela on the chest. This brought about a hardy round of laughter from all the miners, relaxing the tensed air around the table, which had arrived at My’s presence and had yet to dissipate.
“Well, it’ll cost us to bring them into this.
So how much?” Fasi Vairn, spoke for the first time since Christian, had
been invited to join them at the table. As a Caldari, in her “former” life, she still held a slight hatred towards the Gallante, for the death of her older brother, all those many years ago. Whom had enlisted as a pilot in one the experimental fighter craft early in the revolution, and been killed in one of the countless battles in Mies or the Algogille system. “Well, it figures you would be right to the point of the Iskies, Fasi. It’s going to cost us 100 million Isk per day.” Vood responded.
“Ohhh! And here I thought it was going to be expensive!” Hans shouted out in a loud and heartily warm laughing voice.
“I am assuming we’ll need them for no more than four standard weeks.” Vood interrupted, preventing Han or any of the other pilots from adding any further comment. “If after four standard weeks the Q.E.P. is still around and being a general pain in the arse, we’ll consider escalating things even further, or bringing in another “out-side” party. Perhaps one that can infiltrate them, and begin to feed us information on their Corp plans, operations and make up. Fasi, you may want to try to get hold of some of your old contacts back in Caldari space.”
“Should we be even discussing any of this with HIM here?” Fasi said sharply, looking directly at Christian. The stare felt as if she could see into his very soul, burning thru his eyes. He quickly glanced down, and took a long sip from is wine glass. The spiced wine was remarkably good, far from anything you would expect from the borderlands, much less in a dive of a bar, like the “Rock Hard”, causing him to reminisce of long summer days by the lake, at his parents vacation home.
“Leave him be,” Utrela spoke up, “he has no clue, as to your loss, infernium, he wasn’t even born when you lost your brother.” This caused Fasi to quickly change the glare from Christian, to Utrela.
“Besides, I want to see Vood put a leash on him!” Han added quickly, and light heartily, trying to alive some of the building tension. “And walking hi around like a proper pet!”
“And what is he going to do, inform his superiors?” Tyrla added.
“Enough already!” Vood loudly interrupted. “Now, back to the business at hand, twenty-eight standard days, times 100 million Isk per day is 2.8 Billion. Divided by the five senior partners is 560 million per partner. Agreed?” Christian looked on upon these “Miners” in total shock and awe. Coming from a rather well to do Galentee, family he was not unaccustomed to discussing, large sums of Isk. He just didn’t expect it to be from a group of miners that he thought were nothing more than, a little better than a group of ruffigans and hooligans’. Speaking of Isk in terms of Billions, as if it were no more relevant to them, than the Isk of a cheap dinner. All of them nodded towards Vood in approval. “Then it’s settled. We hire KAHN….
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