Cha leaned back in her chair, her feet on the desk, the solo combat manual in her lap and a glass of wine within reach. She had sent in her application letter 5 minutes earlier, and now was very pleased with herself. "To new endeavors", she said, and raised her glass to herself.
She thought of all the things that were to come, new things she had never done before. There were the obvious ones of course.
She had never tried making a fortune in trading. Or that wasn't entirely true: her trading insights probably made someone else's fortune.
She had never been in a fleet war. She could be useful though - being bait or such. A quick certain death ensuing and a slower dizzying clonesome recovery after that. Hmmm. Better wait some more time.
And she had never flown a titan - hell, never even seen one.
Still, those three weren't really why she had chosen (and worked hard) to become a pod pilot, rather than settle for a seat on the Interbus. There were many other things she hadn't done or seen yet, and yes sir, she would do and see them all. It wasn't enough to just read about all those marvels out there, or see them 3D on the holoreels. Nothing ever satisfied Cha but actual demonstration; until she would have seen the wonders of the universe with her own eyes they would remain but untested theories.
For starters, she hadn't indulged enough yet in extravagant decadencies.
Like, for instance, the seemingly simple prodigy of wine. She frowned at the glass in her hand, turning its sparkling reds and oranges in the dim light of the room. She had once overheard someone going on in lengths about "muscular," "tight" and "rakish," and she thought the man was talking about Chribba . Turned out he was merely talking about some spicey Amarr wine. Not that she actually knew how Chribba looked - for all she knew he could be a bald fiftysomethingsomething with a more than generous beer belly. Anyway, "opulent" was the only legitimate wine descriptor Cha could come up with when she thought of Amarr wine. Only it referred to the price.
Speaking of price, despite having ventured into different gustatory perceptions of several off-world condiments of varying legality she had never experienced the presumably noble and splendrous taste of Hanging Long-limb roe. Being capaciously expensive, the happy few who actually could afford it were determined to abundantly emphasize the oomphness of slime.
Which reminded her of the serious kewlness - and plushness - of a real Egone. Sure, tuning into the regular streaming music channels wasn't bad. But it wasn't like the straight-to-the-brain awesomeness the Egone waves provided. Someone had showed her 'Crazy Disco' on his Egone the other day, and it had blown her away. And as if that wasn't enough yet, he then had shown her the Wooo Button. She instantly had felt like she had lost for the day. She comforted herself with the idea that at least this company didn't trace her merry whereabouts. Yet.
She hadn't become famous yet.
She wasn't named yet on The Scope, the galactic news network. Sure, it was supposed to be the most far-reaching, depth delving public news agency there is. But still, they clearly hadn't discovered her dormant potential for glory yet. Every time as she closed the distance on a jumpgate, she couldn't withhold from eagerly soliciting the billboard near it, being slightly disappointed every time. Hitherto no illustriousness. The DED wasn't on the lookout for her. She hadn't found the cure for the Kyonoke Infection either, let alone curtailed the Jovian Disease. She hadn't defeated Joelyn Donalokos in the Mind Clash Intergalactic Championships. She hadn't climbed the stairs of society stardom like playgirl Liberienne Houlliente had - or down, depending on your viewpoint. Which thought made her look down and compare features. Nope, it was not that she didn't have both the capacities. She just didn't want to transgress horizontally into the stammering illuminations of fame.
And she hadn't traveled real distances yet. There were so many places out there that weren't just there for the scenery, places that were made for something. She had never been to the City of God yet - the ruins of someone's dream into godhood that ended with sheer painful mortalness instead. The Amarr hadn't liked that guy - all the more reason to go see.
Oh and those other ruins - the underwater Gallentenean cities at Caldari Prime. Nouvelle Rouvenor, and especially Paix Azur because that sounded so extremely exotic - she didn't know what they used it for now; it had been in the news some time ago but she couldn't remember what it was about. She did hope there would be some guided tours there - she wasn't entirely fond of the idea to just be boldly plunging in the ice cold water and holding her breath until she'd find something.
As for the more creepy stuff: she wasn't sure she would ever dare go jump the gate between Dom-Aphis and Iderion, even when nobody was looking. Normally she considered that a sufficient justification for chancing any dangerous thing, but in this case... She might end up like that ship that went into the jump, but never got out. Who knows what those people were doing in it now. Maybe doomed to play chess eternally.
And of course, there were other threesomes she had never tried. But that, she mused, wasn't of anyone else's business.