“[…]the nature of the Universe loves nothing so much as to change the things which are, and to make new things like them.” – Marcus Aurelius.
Thanagherion was sitting in the dark, sunk in her comfortable black leather couch, which bore more resemblance to a racing bucket seat than an actual couch, her feet propped on the table. The untied shoelaces of her combat boots hung still, a testament to just how motionless she tried to be when isolated from the realities of space.
An unlit cigarette hung limply from the corner of her mouth and her eyes were fixed on the blank screen. She felt lonely, bored and tired. There was nothing but empty static on the Corporation and Alliance communication channels. Retirement was beginning to sound like a real option… She had enough savings to lead her life in peace and quiet somewhere. Millions of ISK could probably keep her in luxury until the end of her life.
A single sharp knock on the door pulled her from her reverie. She had muted the door bell and left a yellow and black "do not disturb" sign on the screen outside, so no one would dare to bother her. Still, there was one person in her staff who would not be deterred by such a simple and explicit warning. Than rubbed her eyes and lit the cigarette, pulling a long, somewhat hopeless drag, half expecting her to give up. Another rap, a harder one, broke that faint hope. She fumbled through her pockets, looking for her Neocom and just pressed the glassy surface to unlock the door.
Moira just marched in, with a step that would make a Federal Drill Sergeant jealous and turned on the lights, which elicited a slight sigh of pain as the sudden burst of cruel white bluish light flooded the room.
Than just looked at her and scowled, but didn’t really move except to sink even further into the couch and pull another long drag from the cigarette.
-Are you just going to keep sulking and feeling sorry about yourself or are you going to get off your ass?
-Sulking seems nice and appropriate – Than answered curtly.
-Listen, you got me her and basically gave me this, so I don’t intend to loose all that because you feel like throwing a tantrum.
Than laughed with a bitter edge. That was Moira, always thinking ahead, always the good manager and always serious. One could not read the likes of her if you just took in her petite, beautiful, figure.
-I'm not throwing a tantrum, I'm not depressed, I just don't feel like doing this anymore. Besides, I'm the one usually poking things. Mind you, I poke things with heavy rail gun rounds. So, what do you suggest?
-Here, I scrounged a few interesting job offers… - She started.
-Not interested on killing right now, neither am I interested in mining, scavenging wrecks or hauling crap six or seven jumps around.
-Not that kind of job offer - her assistant replied, with a tone that reminded her of her mother. - Here, I setup the comms, so the channel is already routed directly to this office. All you have to do is turn that thing on and talk to one person. You still know how to talk, instead of just being rude, right? I compiled a dossier with all I could find about the recruiter, about the CEO. I even took the time to do a small summary about the corp. I think you will fit right in.
-I don't like change.
-You... don't like... change?! - she replied, sincerely surprised.
Thanagherion scrolled down the file, her thin, gaunt, face turning grimmer by the minute.
-I don't really appreciate pirates.
-Ex-pirate. And you value second changes. You are just dumb that way. Hell! Look at me. See those marines down there, marching along: your marines? You could have cut them off or leave them in space to die. Or the dancers. Just what do they do around here again? Oh, right, they are the receptionists at the office right? Or the janitors, who you gave a job cleaning up the Cargo Holds? Or...
-Stop! Next you'll start talking about the slave girl who gets to be chief of staff of some capsuleer! - Than answered, with a bit more cruelty than she ever intended seeping through her words.
Moira's only reply was a stare which made her eyes briefly gleam like a deadly pair of Amarrian Navy Lasers.
Still, Moira smirked knowing she had her employer beat. She wouldn't admit it, ever, but she had her beat.
Running her fingers through her glowing blonde hair and fixing her dark green eyes on the distracted capsuleer, she walked to the panoramic window that opened into the hangar. She briefly looked at her reflection on the darkened glass pane, pretending to look at the parked Ishkur Class Assault Ship. Her mind wondered why her boss just let her get away with all this... Even she knew she sometimes pushed it. Unthinkingly, she straightened her brown knitted sweater and swatted an imaginary dust fleck from her dark indigo jeans, before deciding to leave, looking back for a fraction of a second to see Than lighting another cigarette.
-You know I have to talk about this with Ice and Nikita? They are family.
-I know. Somehow I think they'll understand. And they will always be somewhere out there for you. Nikita will steal all your bloody cookies, though...
Thanagherion cocked her eyebrow at the attempted joke from Moira.
A few days later she was in a bar on Jaschercis shaking hands with Reltso, CEO of her new corp. She couldn't really help feeling this gig was looking like a good one after all.
