Evangeline Anastasia McDowell

[Bazza]

Entry#: 136
Date: 14 - 02 - 819 AS @ 21:43 SUT
Title: I'd forgotten this thing had space for a title.

I suppose I should update on the passage of notable events over the past week.

First and foremost is my rather awkward encounter with the Hellfire Legion. Something which started out as idle surveillance of a fight that wasn't mine has somehow led to me being the babysitter of a supposed Captain and member of the Legion's upper hierarchy.

I can't even jot down an accurate recount of how this came to be because I really have no understanding myself. If I were to pinpoint where everything started to go pear-shaped it was when Blake tried to take me to dinner on the Incursus.

I do remember feeling sorry for the poor bastard because I had been sorta-kinda stringing him along for a few days, as one does. But then he threw down a significant fleet of "dead bits of cow" - to use his own words - right in front of me which I had no real choice but to guiltily enjoy.

The air turned awkward when I spilled out the fact I had a girlfriend. The very shimmer of his eyes disappeared the instant the remark hit home. After that I ended cleaning up after myself whilst he sulked about the place. I feel I should lay down the disclaimer that I did actually tell him I "wasn't worth chasing" and that he shouldn't bother trying by throwing all this food in front of me.

My guess is he was lost in puppy-love and what I was telling him didn't quite register. Not the first and probably not the last heart I'll've broken. It seems to be less of a shock every time it happens...

Anyway. After that when I was leaving the twit managed to fall over and smash his head on the elevator... and then things got weird.

The Incursus' AI system.... forgot what it was called - but it was made in honour of some old guy, I think - started laying down attitude. The highlight of our little cock-waving contest was it telling me to strip naked and threatening to fill the entire flight deck with gas if I didn't. With it's own damned commander unconscious on the floor.

Honestly. Who in their right mind would program an artificial intelligence with issues like that? I've never had one and likely never will. But my idea of an AI is something which is polite, reliable and most importantly submissive. Not a remake of some wanker who thinks it's worth it's weight in gold.

I hate computers. I really do.

Moving on.

Blake, the commander, ended up being taken back to Alsatia with some rather serious injuries after being thrown around by his AI system and dumped in the back of my fighter. I treated some of his injuries and "assigned" him to a bunkhouse. I think I'm meant to hold onto him until the Incursus comes back...

It damned well better, too. Since Blake realised he's not lusting for my body any more he's become a real asshat. If I didn't have any care for other human beings I'd've thrown him out the airlock by now.

Besides that... I'm tired. I really wanna sleep.

But there is a certain little "angel" here who thinks right about now is the perfect time for lunch break. Then she'll drop it out the other end an hour later and no-one will get any sleep for the next four.

If she wasn't so damned adorable she'd be joining Blake on the one-way trip out the airlock.

She has.... her fathers' eyes. That much I can see already. She's a departure from family tradition in having these wonderful olive-green eyes that the Rall lineage boasts - the eyes that I feel head-over-heels in love for... but I can tell her hair, skin and facial features are going to be all McDowell.

Hopefully she uses more of mum's personality and less of dad's. Someone looking like who she will when she's of age needs to be witty and opportunistic enough to take maximum advantage of it. It's the only way any of us are able to get our heads above water. Mum did it when she was my age and, well, my actions over the past few years speak for me.

Which of course, moves me on to the advancement of the construction of Alsatia. In the week that has passed since the last entry, we have managed to blast our way into something which now resembles living space underneath the surface. At this stage a single large room exists, lit by temporary strobes and kept air-tight by the completed and sealed airlocks at the front.

Slag trucks slink in and out of the front door, tanks of pressurised oxygen and recirculation systems keeping the base habitable during this critical stage of its development. Despite this all of my men and women are forced to wear full hostile-environment space suits even when inside the base after a minor incident which so very easily could have caused the deaths of dozens of people.

That is one thing I consider paramount over anything else. I have had injuries, I have had accidents and near misses. But no-one has died nor suffered any permanent damage whilst at Alsatia. This is a hallmark I intend in embedding into the entire project. I do not want to bear the cross of any man or woman dying by my hands here.

The flow of supplies from not only contractors but sympathisers and even aspiring romantic suitors shows no signs of faltering. The credits the remainder of my company brings in are devoted entirely to financing the project., I actually have not spent a credit on myself in over a month.

Donations from groups like the one led by Mr. K and other such organisations are assisting greatly in producing a healthier bottom line although loose credits are getting harder and harder to find, something that cannot be denied. I work relentlessly to drag in as much business as possible to ensure the smooth flow of the operation.

The trade of information on members of the Junker Congress has been adding a nice tax-free boost to the company finances, too. Fortunately for me they just fall into my traps over and over like the dogs they are. Each successful snag brings in one or two containers of cargo which are quickly dismantled and purposed around the base.

Oh. Sanya's finished. Better get moving...

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