Entry 20

When the camera feed starts up, Senn is a couple yards away and engaged in his usual routine of exercise, swinging a metal kettlebell in a wide arc, the motion straining the muscles partly revealed by his casual outfit. It hearkens images of the traditional training of the Caldari military to one's mind. He finally pauses to set the weight aside, grabbing an already damp towel from a nearby table to clear the beads of sweat from his short-haired head. Voodoo lies on his side not far away, panting in his sleep.

"A Maller pilot drifted into Amod earlier today," he begins, letting out a quick exhale to encourage his lungs' purging of used air. "They were fresh out of the Imperial Academy, too young to recognize a probing covert ops ship. Milo's ship couldn't engage, but once we had a lock, Con and I warped to close range and put the target down. It was the first kill our CEO wasn't orchestrating. The first confirmed kill on my record."

He brushes the cloth across his synthetic eyes, removing the liquid percolated in the sliver lenses. He lays the towel in his palms and dusts them off as well, leaving the cloth in his hands as he continues speaking, his head slightly lowered.

"It wasn't too long ago I made the same mistakes. Three months later, I'm in danger of getting burned by the State, and picking off straggling prey." 

The pilot tosses the towel aside and returns to his desk, the camera drone following along with a gentle whir of its motors, settling near the edge of the desk and adjusting the focus of its lens. Senn reaches for the newest addition to his armory, a sturdy automatic pistol of higher quality than his older weapons.

"AP5 Kukri," he explains, fiddling with the pistol as he begins to strip it to check for damages the dealer might have neglected to mention prior to the purchase. "The action sends the recoil down into the fist. Twenty rounds on fully automatic, every one will find the target. I bought two."

There's another pause in his speech as he strips out the magazine from the weapon, checking its edges for nicks or burrs, momentarily seeming to drift into thought. It lasts only an instant, however.

"Galnet has been lighting up with hits on the Angel Cartel. Without solid evidence, I can only deduce so much. But it sounds like certain members are drawing too much attention and it's costing them dearly. Furthermore, one of the individuals attempted an infiltration of Stillwater. He was amateur, but it was cause for concern. I've been asked to step up security. The odds of a breach are down to almost nothing."

When the firearm has been reassembled, he lines up a shot against an imagined enemy and slowly depresses the trigger, testing the smooth action with an empty chamber.

"My employer is arranging a meeting with an Angel CEO. Sounds like someone in the real cartel is searching for collaboration with AI. Hopefully we'll be getting some work soon enough."

He reaches to switch the video feed off, the pistol still snugly in his hand in a ready position, the light glinting off the muzzle's sharp corner. 

"In this business, I'm sure I'll be getting my hands dirty in no time."