Love Costs

Author: AlacrityFitz

Original post: https://backstage.eve-inspiracy.com/index.php?topic=7241.0

Entry for the Amore Tank Your Hearts in the Non-comedy category.

Luminaire Industrial Banking headquarters took up six blocks of downtown. At its base was a monorail to get from one entrance to the next, and the surrounding plazas were immaculate gardens covering more land then some farms Alacrity Fitzhugh worked on as a child on Matar. In the tradition of such institutions the building was a monolithic citadel of glass and steel, trying to look powerful and comforting at the same time an failing at both. Mainly it looked like a glass box for keeping prisoners on display.

Captain Alacrity Fitzhugh stood at the base of the monolith smirking. The milky remains of his left eye and the new Looking Glass Ocular interface on the right scanned the scenery as he planned out his approach. His outfit of choice...his all purpose flight suit. The one with the most damage, largest scorch marks, greasiest curry stains. This flight suit had seen every corner of Republican space, been through everything and active non capsule pilot could throw at it, and where it was still relatively clean... it was bright orange. Matched with the Heavy Brutorian Deck Boots, and the faint small of leaked coolant he was the picture of a Minmatari Industrialist pilot, the very type LIB claimed to represent. Captain Fitzhugh was going to test their resolve in this claim.

It had been 6 years since he had contacted the LIB bankers for the loan that gave him command of his first ship. The series 1/a Probe, the Darque Sarkasm, had in that time done it job well, and Fitzhugh had worked the ore fields, markets and the occasional agent mission to their limits. He now had all the isk he needed to end the 30 year loan immediately and make the final translation to a capsuleer. The augmentations were almost done and the final simulation training was completed the week before. Already his 'egg' waited on the flight deck of the hangar in his Olfhiem TLF station.

'Well nothing for it but to do it.' Fitzhugh mumbled to himself, steeling himself and marching forward. There was nothing in Eden, no pirate, or deadline, no build schedule, or Amarrian slaver that scared him more then these demoralizing Add to dictionary of the banking institutions. He had wanted to use a Republic group to get his loan, but the tribal memories are long and his Krusual heritage was always impediment when dealing with the predominantly Sebiestor banking juggernauts in Matari space.

Hoisted by their own petard, the Gallente use a blind review system when judging applications. They get no name, or background of the applicant, and no pictures. The managers are forced to judge each application simply by financial merits. Absolutely no chance of bias is allowed in. All applicants get the same chance and the same contract. But it is a still a banking group, and once he was approved and the Gallente figured whom they had brought into their fold, the constant contact from them to 'help' him in his business ventures seemed to clog his comm accounts weekly. Always a realist, Alacrity knew what he looked like. A down and out pilot on the border between Hobo and Pirate, he carried himself deliberately that way to keep them underestimating him. These past six years he had outworked every non cap pilot he knew of in space. Learning the ins and outs of industry, and taking every job, from Rifter construction down to long distance Veldspar hauling. Now he was ready to face this intimidating beast on their own terms. As all this passed through his mind, his body passed through the huge glass doors leading to the main foyer and the bank of customer elevators. The well kept and now nervous looking security men and women at the front data desk looked torn. Non of the weapons detectors had gone off, but this Minmatar invader was obviously a danger... to the sparklingly clean marbled floor if nothing else. With out the detectors whine of danger tho, their training did not tell them how to deal with the infiltration. Fitzhugh knew this problem well, having caused it often and took advantage. Stomping in a straight line with obvious purpose, he hit the elevators before they could gather enough courage to question his intentions.

Through the closing door of the lift, Alacrity watched the panicked security chief try to contact some management level person to give him new instructions... but it was too late. Captain Alacrity Fitzhugh was in and all the resplendent carpet in the world could not stop him. He checked the pockets on his flight suit. He had been looking forward to this and was loaded down with isk. Not the data cred cards in common use, but the old style printed script used in the common food markets. Thick wads of papered linen cash, secreted in pockets all over the flight suit.

At floor 53 of 106 the musically calming ding of the elevator announced his arrival and the doors opened. Revealing the next obstacle Fitzhugh had to face. The receptionist. The room was 20 meters deep and 15 across. All gleaming rich dark woods of Caldari Prime forests, gold highlights, and rich floor coverings that were probably more comfortable then his bed and more expensive then his ship. In a desk at the end sat the gatekeeper. Her vantage point afforded a direct view into all three elevators that came to this floor, so there was no approach to her mahogany bastion other then a direct walk the full length of the room. With a twist of his neck, and a small pop, Alacrity began the march.

The young lady behind the desk was everything one would expect. Beautiful in the extreme, dressed in a confusing mix of conservative colors and fashion with aggressive undertone of sexual predation shown with the exposed neck and perfect make up. The being could have been anywhere between 22 and 35 and knew how to use every aspect of her demeanor to bring even the most determined visitor to a halt. She knew that this room was hers and knew how to forestall any unwelcome guests. Fitzhugh was not going to play the game at all tho. A little script to the right people, a bribed mail room clerk on rounds on the floor. His quarry was well stalked and this woman was not ready for a Minmatar that simply didn't have a care for her careful planning. But she was pretty so the scenery as he stalked across the room was nice.

Her face was neutral as she decided on the tact she would use to get Fitzhugh seated and waiting like a good customer. The neutral became a scowl and then a frown as the coolant and smoky smell from the flight suit wafted ahead of the oncoming pilot. Fitzhugh fixed his most passive and friendly smile on his face, tho the milky left eye kind of took some of the effect away. In addition to information on the banker he would soon need to corner alone at his office, Alacrity had also gotten the name of the Gallente Valkery getting ready to stop him. Just a few feet from the desk he stopped and broadened his smile and waved as if to and old friend.

'Monisa, so good to see you. I was hoping it would be you.' The lie played fast and had the impact intended. Calling her by her familiar name through all her planning into the void as she suddenly tried desperately to remember where she could have met a Minmatar pilot this scruffy. Her eyes half clouded as she tried to reevaluate her attack plan and Fitzhugh again interrupted her thought patterns. 'Thalina can be so officious when she is working the desk. You at least know when business needs out weigh some fake need for propriety.' Her eyes widen a little as the jab at her hated work partner is mentioned. And insulted. She now has been totally set mentally spinning.

'Goges is in his office right? I have an appointment so I will just head on back. Great to see you again.' Fitzhugh jukes right to the partially hidden hallway of the starboard of the mahogany flattop, as Monisa still tries to get her act together. Finally she manages a quiet 'Of course Captain, good to see you too.'

Getting out of the line of sight of the receptionist is the last real obstacle. Once he is past her presence he becomes someone else's problem and he is free and clear. His bribed mail room clerk had given him the directions to the office of Goges Mantar, minor cog of the LIB financial machine, and the man in charge of Alacrity Fitzhugh's contract. A quick right and a left or two got Fitzhugh to the portal of the office, standing open and revealed Goges hunched over some papers making notes. At this level of the company the minions wore not the very latest, but very fine suits tailored to fit. Goges seemed the type to spend the extra few minutes it takes to look his best at work, and made him ill prepared to receive the incoming human representative of disorganization.

'Monsieur Mantar, I am Captain Alacrity Fitzhugh. We have an appointment.' Before the LIB lackey can react, Fitzhugh smiles and enters finding a chair and sitting smiling. 'Can I call you Goges? You can call me Fitz.'

'Um ... uh... of course Captain... Fitz. Please have a seat... well you have, haven't you.' The stammering was a hard pull on Fitzhugh's need to smile, but he resisted. 'I have you file right here but it seems I don't have the reason for the meeting. You were ... vague... with my assistant as to why you wished to go over things.'

'Well after six years with Luminaire Industrial it is time I paid off my debt, and struck out on my own.' With that Alacrity pulled four large bundles of the cash he carried into the building and laid them on the desk. 'I think you will find the outstanding amount is there. Tho I am sure there are fees I have forgotten. I was never a man for figures.'

Goges Mantar was a banking veteran, and in this modern age, a pile of cash is not something commonly seen. Slightly licking his lips under widened eyes, he catches small glances back at the pile while still trying to speak clearly. 'Well that's just fine... Captain. I mean Fitz. We usually don't handle these things in... cash.' With the word his eyes dart back to the pile again. 'But we can handle just about everything. So lets look over your contract and get everything squared away.'

Mantar gets his bearing again back in the comfort of the verbiage of the contract. 'This does in fact cover the outstanding debt, but their are a few fees that are incurred with an early clearance of the loan.' He scrolls his dataslate looking over figures. 'Yes it seems there is a fee here for early closure processing.'

Before Goges finishes speaking Fitzhugh lays another bundle on the desk. 'I had my Mother look over the contract,' he explains. 'She knows a little of these financial matters.'

'Right, your Mother... of course.' Goges seeks the safety of the contract again. 'A processing fee here, and of course the Federation completion and registration tax, Republican import revenue enhancement payment, and the insurance escrow closing fee.'

With each item the Minmatar pilot places another bundle of differing size, pulled seemingly randomly for all the pockets he had in his flight suit. The pile on the desk began to become a little unstable, but continued to grow. When the Gallente finished his listing, Fitzhugh looked at him over the tower of cash still smiling.

'I think you will find it is all there. I do wish to add one small thing. I understand LIB handles ships name registrations for the federation. I would like to log the Darque Sarkazm into the Federal rolls as a licensed hauler and mining ship. I think this will cover the fee.' Fitzhugh places his final bundle on the pile setting off a minor avalanche of Isk script. Mantar nearly jumped trying to stem the flow.

Fitzhugh quickly stands and heads for the door, purloining a Caldari Sweet from the bowl Goges kept on his desk. 'Well that was fun, please convey my thanks to your superiors for fair and even treatment. Oh and tell Monisa thanks for me.'

+++

Leaving the glass edifice passed the still stunned security cadre on the ground floor, Fitzhugh dips into the last pocket still holding something. He pulls out the lunch his Mother packed for him. Roast Bovisine with hot Sebiestor mustard, and some jehjewberries from her garden. All of it in a sack and wrapped in a piece of paper. Taking a bite of the sandwich he looked down at the paper. It was the title and captains writ for the Darque Sarkazm. Old style done by the Republican Ship Registry Department of Pator. Smooth velum with seals and signatures it was the physical proof that Alacrity Fitzhugh with Captain of a Probe class frigate in good standing and free of lien.

'Well Amore, you are my problem now...' The top half of the sheet hold the image of his ship. The series one war renowned for sheer rusty presence, nothing like the sleeker modern series 3s. She was lumpy, and awkward looking slightly off balance. 'Baby, you better not let me down.'