Nashh made his way down the main KBG hangar, repair and logistics crews buzzed around. Times where good, efficiency was up and kills came in aplenty.
The mile long hangar was filled with combat vessels of different sizes, all were ready for action at a moments notice. Although well stocked it couldn't compare to Nashh's private hangar which had steadily grown to keep Baggins happy, or at least he tried.
A lead engineer briefly requested Nashh's attention to sign for a new delivery.
'I haven't ordered or authorized any new purchases...' Nashh scrolled down the pad to see it had been Anabaric's order; Scimitar, fuel, ammo... He sighed; 'fine, for fuck's sake...'
'Just doing my job gov'ner' the engineer muttered under his breath.
Before Nashh could lose his temper a high pitched bleep came from an inside pocket, it was the call he had been waiting for. Pulling out his Neo-com he nodded for the engineer to move along; 'Carry on!' he ordered.
'Hans! how are you buddy?'
The response was crackled and came with a slight delay, nothing unusual as Hans was deep in wormhole space.
'Hey boss, just ringing to let you know this weeks loot has been delivered in Amarr'. 'Beaute said you wanted to talk to me?'
'Yeah just a heads up for you guys, the loot-sales are dropping slightly in value, the market is flooded at the moment'. 'Nothing to worry about though, we are still pulling in four billion a week'.
'Aye no worries...'
The connection broke off briefly, and static noise replaced Hans's deep voice.
'...still here Colonel, what I was saying is that we should hope for some more haulers being destroyed in Jita with Wormhole loot...'
Nashh smiled; 'Yeah that would drive the price up nicely'.
The connection had turned to static again.
Nashh turned off the Neo-com and slipped it back into an inside pocket.
'Supply and demand' he muttered to himself... 'supply and demand hey...'
'Aaaargh! Cunts!' The Gallentean shouted as he burst into the quiet bar.
'Calm down Paul, sit down, have a drink' the bartender urged the raging patron. It were days like this where he hated his job.
Paul sat himself down, flicking his wet hair back before downing the drink that was swiftly arranged for him. 'Another!' he barked, 'Fuck!'.
Antoine the barkeep had known Paul for two years now. In between missions Paul would occasionally come in and talk big tales of combat and riches, his favorite subject other than himself was his Tengu class Strategic Cruiser; 'Amora'. Antoine hated men like him.
After downing another drink Paul seemed calm enough to explain his rage.
'Those fucking shits blew up Amora' Paul started to explain, 'and fucking podded me!'
Antoine smiled on the inside but hid it with a surprised look.
'Right here in high-security space! Can you fucking believe it!?'
'That is unusual indeed, what happened?'
Paul sat back for a moment and appeared to think. 'Well the logs show a small pack of outlaw Thrashers where responsible but that makes no sense, they must have been real professionals...Shadow Cartel or something like that, ever heard of them?'
Antoine refilled Paul's glass. 'They must have been...and lots of them too I bet, twenty, thirty maybe?'
'Six!' Nashh Kadavr had approached the bar unnoticed. 'Six beers please barkeep'. Five others had come in behind Nashh and noisily shuffled some chairs around a table. Maax leant back on the chairs hind-legs and put his grubby boots on the table, Ghazi proceeded to roll a cigarette containing illegal substances.
'Howdy...' Nashh whispered to Paul.
Paul didn't finish his drink before leaving abruptly.
Antoine smiled; 'On the house gentlemen...'