Vexing the Vexor, Enter the Thorax

Alas, my friends.  A moment of silence for my beloved Vexor...

The sound of space crickets chirping unseen from the nooks and crannies of the ship assaults the peacefulness of the moment.

She lasted mere moments in 0.4 security, a couple of pirates vaporized her hull without a fight.  I escaped with my pod somehow, the pirates either not caring or being distracted by looting her carcass.  There were no comms, no ransom, no demands of any nature, just sudden and painful destruction.  Floating in my pod, out there amidst the endless vacuum of space, I wanted to cry but Aura would have none of it.  She continued feeding me warnings as I slinked away to the nearest high security system.

After docking, I didn't yet have the heart to search the market for another ship, so I crawled off to the cheapest pub I could find on station and proceeded to drown my implants in self-pity.

Two days later, a best estimate, I awoke with a start.  My head pounding, I crawled to the bathroom from my spot on the floor (as I apparently had not even made it to the bed) and purged myself of all that I couldn't even remember drinking and eating.  Hopefully they had tasted better the first time.  A good shower and grooming was first priority for me at that point.

Eyes closed, as much against the light as the water, with the steaming water rolling over my face, I considered my next move.  As far as I could remember, I still had only my pod--and the Velator granted by the insurance company, but I was going to scrap that as soon as feasible.  I considered my training, my recent "discussions" that were more akin to arguments with other pilots as to how best to outfits various ships, and of course, my wallet.

After drawing the shower to a close and drying off, I sat on the bunk and pulled my datapad out of the pile of clothes that marked my 2-day binge.  The screen was intact at least, but with nothing flashing me for attention I was mildly concerned.  I dug through the logs and saw that I had placed a few rather annoying drunken messages in my lover's mailbox, and I sighed knowing that if she chose to speak to me again I would probably not hear the end of it for quite a while.

Backing out of the logs, I moved over into the market window and began looking at my options for a new ship.  I decided to try moving into a Thorax instead of a Vexor this time, and sped a message away to a companion of mine who had helped me fit the Vexor, Chainer Cygnus.  Chainer hadn't claimed to be a Gallente cruiser expert by any means, but he was certainly more knowledgeable than me.

I purchased the Thorax and excitedly boarded it.  I liked my Vexor, as I do most of the Gallente designs, but the Thorax is just damn sexy.  Just sitting in it within my pod, raw and defenseless as it was, made me feel sexier.

After obtaining some of Chainer's helpful hints, as well as some advice from the bloggers' comms, I dug into the wallet and started spreading my remaining wealth all over New Eden.  I have yet to finish picking up all of the items I've reserved, and that will have to happen at some point soon.  I think I will do my ratting and missioning in 0.5 or higher for now, as I am obviously not yet accustomed to the... delicate... way of life in low security, and, admittedly, I want to feel sexier for a while in the Thorax.

Fly safe, my friends, and fly often.