Claude the Capsuleer

It's one of those days again. Could be night. This concept hardly exists in the depth of space. It's simply become something for people to say.

Still, it's one of those days.

The name's Claude. It's Star-date.. something.. who even cares. I'm sitting inside one of my old ladies. The silence in the cockpit, as she is powered down, is a contradiction to the early days she's shared with me as a young capsuleer's first vessel. Flashing alert signals of incoming bogeys and target locks, still play a harmonious rhythmic tune in my memories. It's time to fire up this frigate one more time. The Merlin and I are going hunting for rats. 

It's just one of those days, you see. 

I need to fly again... really fly. I need to feel the intensity of maneuvering with micro warp engaged. Battleships and Battle Cruisers even my Assault Frigs take away the raw feeling of knowing that an instapop could be right around the next corner, or gate camp. I need to be facing death to know I'm alive. Like many other pilots, I've lost the ability to really feel. No one is, who they really are. I can't tell you how many times I was brought back through the miracle of cloning. As we speak my twins sleep without dreams of any kind in vats of preserving liquids.

I envy these ships we fly. They are our real bodies. We're just their souls, their energy. I feel envy every time I shoot down someone's ship. Just let me disintegrate like they do.
I despise the fight. I only used to go into battle in hopes of being released from this curse.
I'm a merchant now. A carebear, like some of the more energetic capsuleers like to call it. But today is one of those days. The urge in me... I can feel the electricity at my fingertips. It's time to stare into the depth of space and aim into the blackest of holes with my warp drive blasting. 

It's time to feel again. Maybe one last time. This ol' lady and I are going out dancing tonight.

Power On!