For a long time now I've been gone from C5 space, but after several agonizingly long months of toil and grievous occupancy of a C3 I've returned. This was certainly not a solo effort. Though I lead the initiative it was only made possible by the efforts of others: Bjorn, Silver and Merc being chief among them, though they were not the only others involved.
Cosmology has long been occupying C3 systems, using them for the easy access to low-level Sleeper sites and as a base to perform reactions that cannot be conducted in Empire space, but for those of us who desired greater things this type of activity had long since lost its appeal.
Operation: Big House was set in motion. For a lowly C3 corporation which had never set foot in the deep places this was a major undertaking. By the will of Bob, Bjorn had found a suitable C5 system by chance and we decided that system would be our future home. He remained there for a couple of weeks, scanning and scouting and scanning and scouting. The system remained empty with the exception of a small expo op that took place over the course of a few days, but they soon packed up shop and departed the system.
Their departure meant we wouldn't have to fight for the system, which was good for a bunch of prior bears, but it also meant we wouldn't get the opportunity to "purchase" their capitals at gunpoint. Bob is indeed fickle, but his favor was still upon our endeavor. He opened wormholes to both our C3 and our C5 which lead to hi-sec systems a mere two jumps apart.
We weren't quite ready to move yet, but neither were we willing to pass up on Bob's notoriously fleeting good-will. Our pilots scrambled into action, making hurried runs to the nearest trade hubs to purchase a POS and materials: fuel, stront, etc. Orcas were filled to the brim and rushed to the C5 along with a few ships that would be needed to assist in the collapsing of a few extraneous wormholes to null-sec and neighboring w-space systems.
We progressed quickly and without incident, soon ready to anchor our POS. I had never done this myself, so for the better part of an hour it seemed to me as if I were holding my breath, pealed eyes darting feverishly between the directional scanner, probe scanner and the POS timer like some sort of fiend huddled protectively over his last, precious crack-rock.
At the time Bob was merciful - I'm sure he will be certain to make us pay for that mercy in the near future - and allowed us to perform our task in peace. When at last our new home was onlined I recalled the glory of the Cold Moon POS's: Uncle Touchy and Butt Plug. This great thing now erected before me, with its cobra-like head and shadowed silhouette, was an image of those lost days.
I named her The Big House, because we are slaves to the will of Bob and ultimately this shelter is his to do with as he pleases. As slaves, we refer to our master's dwelling as The Big House. We will work his fields, reaping the hulls and pods of his people, which he hath sown among the deep places of his holey space.
As Cosmology goes forward, a very Lovecraftian phrase comes to mind: "the old things tread in the deep places."
