Trajon’s Cerberus was about to come out of warp. He was making the jump from S-U8A4 into 98Q-80. As he traveled through the warp tunnel, he had a small glimmer of hope. As his Neocom connected to the system communication beacons and data flashed onto his screen, that hope evaporated. He set a course to dock at his home station. But all of the sudden it didn’t feel like home any more.
He had never taken up true residence in the station. As a convenience from his life as a pirate, his living and sleeping quarters were aboard a Syndicate built Victorieux Luxury Yacht. He had however befriended many of the citizens who resided on the station. The station has begun to feel like home. Docking his ships in the ISP station had been suggested to him by his new employers at Chatelain Auxiliary. Trajon saw the efficiency of having his fleet near the top ranking mission agent in the JQV5-9 Constellation. Chatelain Auxiliary Response is all about efficiency.
As a creature of habit, Trajon normally began the process of exiting his pod immediately after docking his ship for the night. Tonight he didn’t budge. His crew was confused so they held station too. Trajon tried to focus on something. Anything. It was to no avail. He just stared at the long list of names on his neocom’s local. His anger grew more and more as he read each name of the capsuleers currently in 98Q. None of them were from the Cooperative. They did not belong here.
Over the previous days and nights, these new pilots were the main topic of conversation. As typical capsuleers will do, a lot of gossip and rumors were exchanged between pilots of the Cooperative. The capsuleers who knew more than others seemed to be very tight lipped about everything they knew. Only tidbits of information had been shared to the masses leading the Capsuleers to fill in their own blanks. Trajon had listened intently to all of these conversations. He also voiced his own opinions loudly. There was no doubt where he stood on the topic. But, he was no one, and to be honest, Trajon was fine with that role. Tonight he had reached his breaking point. Trajon was beyond fed up with the situation. His brain hummed. He was in a daze. He had gone numb.
As Trajon sat there staring at his screen, he finally made a decision. The crew had no warning that they were departing until the ships lurched forward from the docking platform. He wasn’t exactly sure where he was going, but he wasn’t staying here another night.
The only thing that was going to make Trajon feel better was to blast them out of the sky. Since he wasn’t allowed to do that, he needed something else. Alcohol. His favorite drinking establishment was at the Akuma Sushi Bar. That wasn’t an option now. Trajon needed another option. He had a standing invitation to The Saccade in Excess City from Evelyn Arnoux. Trigger had also given the place a good review. It sounded to Trajon like as good of a place as any to distract himself.
Trajon slept walked through the cleaning process of leaving his pod. He threw on an unwashed uniform and exited his ship. Having never been to the bar at The Saccade, he wasn’t sure where he was going, but he figured he could follow the people and the music. As he walked down the corridors of the station he began to hear something, but this wasn’t the typical music of a bar. As he drew closer to the source, the droning of organs filled the halls. The music began to entrance him, drawing him to walk on.
Trajon stood at the door to the Cathedral looking in. It was then that he realized he had docked at the wrong station. Somehow he knew it wasn’t an accident though. He had been drawn there. He looked down the aisle to the front of the room. The sanctuary was ornate and beautiful. Amarrian designs were evident but there was still something different in this place. He walked in and sat down in a pew near the back. Many a night Trajon sat in his ship staring out at the beautiful planets and space with the thought of who created all of this. Tonight he sat there and felt near that creator. He wept. Then Trajon did something he had never done before. He prayed. Soon a strange peace came over him. He realized that all of the petty things that perturbed him didn’t matter. There was something bigger at play. Someone bigger guiding all of these things and Trajon desired to be near it.
Trajon hadn’t slept that night when he boarded his ship. He connected to his neocom and issued instructions to his crew and to his partners in Prime Co. Their instructions were simple. They read: Move the entire fleet to LUMEN Cathedral of Syndicate ASAP. We have a new home.