Pretty Boy, Pretty Boy

Ahh.. Hello there. Come and settle down by my side. Sip a glass of mint tea spiked with synthetic sooth. After all, there are no laws to break today. So curl up. Is the sooth good? It is the best pulled from the clouds created by the reddest of nebula. You came here to listen. You came here to see. What tales lay out beyond that gate? What happens in the dark spaces of low sec?

A tale I do have. Come settle down. Have a biscuit.

Now understand that this is Floydes story. Stoic being that he is. He is one of the ex-anti pirates. Seduced by the sweetness of explosions and naked of all fetters. And today, Floyde is in an Ishtar. That dirtiest of sexy drone boats is being piloted around Bosena with its cool hearted Captain at its helm.

Bosena. Roll that name across your tongue. The flow of it is exquisite. A seemingly simple .4 sec system tucked up against the besom of the empire. It is an unpresumptuous place where mission agents gaily send their contractors to do work.

The empire has enemies and there are dangers in space. Places in the void where the darkness cones from more than the sub-zero chill of the void. And there, doing CONCORDs work was a Scorpion.

Oh noble battleship how do they tremble as you enter the field with missiles and drones a whirl about the edges of thy being great creature of the depths, a true behemoth in its own right and scared by hundreds if battles did on this night enter Bosena.

But what of Floyde's Ishtar? A sleek shape that is almost unassuming. Coated in deep blue grays with a hint of green it sinks against the red sheen of the nebula. And upon this occasion, it slipped into the center of an anomaly with stealth. Green-blue engines flared and a flight of sentry drones flicked out their mounts as pure fire rained down upon the Scorpion who was so, so, so very unaware.

But, was that unexpected? While the words may be spoken from a hardened heart, the facts are as simple as a day old babes dreams. There was no contest in this. The scorpion was in its own way innocent. Aware, but not aware of danger. Sadly, comprehension came too late.

It was at this point that I found them. The Scorpion pilot calm as he spoke. For that was his only way to feed himself and his family. That ship that even now was vanishing particles dissipating upon a solar wind. And his words were a sigh. He needed to salvage and his only option was his Noctis. "Not the best idea," whisphered the winds of local but a good idea and an idea are different things.

Thus was it demonstrated when he warped his Noctis to the anomaly to Floyde's bemused horror.

Thus was the creation of a moment. A moment where Floyde made a decision. A decision made not to snuff out the last vistage of life and ability but to help one that was not able to help themselves. He did not shoot the Noctis. He, instead, talked to the pilot. Suggestions were made. Don't duel tank. Avoid missioning in a Scorpion in low sec. And a gift was given. Another Scorpion. One to be cherished and used. Loved and relied upon.

Catch and release. Is that not the way of things? If they are not big enough or strong enough or to young to breed one released them back intot he wild. And this was a moment when Floyde, perhaps, found the words, "Baby seal" flicker across his lips with the barest taste of new life as he, this one time, put the seal club away.