Frequently Asked, Grudgingly Answered

Captain Gobbins was staring at the same question for the fourth time that week.

Not the exact same question, of course. That would be too easy. No, this one had been lovingly rephrased, reformatted, and resubmitted by a half-dozen different capsuleers with subtle variations, as if the magic of bureaucracy might change physics or unanchor a Keepstar by sheer repetition.

This time it came from Caldemeyn, who’d at least had the decency to ask in full sentences.

“ ‘Might be unanchored’ means there will be an official announcement before that’s going to happen? I think the consequences for the market will be… impactful.”

Gobbins read it aloud, slowly. Then again. Then once more, just to be sure he wasn’t hallucinating from jump fatigue.

Golthune Aideron didn’t look up from her comms console. “Another one?”

“Another one,” Gobbins said, voice dangerously flat. “They want to know if there’ll be an official announcement before we unanchor the MJ- Keepstar.”

Gilthune blinked. “Didn’t we already make an announcement?”

“We did. You were there. We all clapped.” Gobbins rubbed his face like it might soothe the rising headache. “It said, and I quote: ‘E8- is our new staging. Move out of the MJ- Keepstar.’ It doesn’t say, ‘Think about it, maybe.’ It doesn’t say, ‘Wait for MJ- to personally write you a goodbye letter.’ It says: Move. Out.”

Gilthune leaned back in her chair. “Should we write it bigger next time?”

“I don’t think font size is the issue,” Gobbins muttered. “I think people are asking, ‘Do I really have to move?’ And hoping that if they phrase it differently enough times, someone will say no.”

He tapped his datapad and dictated loudly:

“Yes. You really have to move out of MJ-. Not theoretically. Not hypothetically. Not on some long-term maybe-we-won’t schedule. Pack your ships, sell your junk, and move.”

He paused. “And yes. The market will be impacted. In the sense that it will cease to exist. Like a building that’s being demolished—don’t argue about the furniture, just get out.”

From the corner of the room, Gallente Citizen 4586793463 glanced up from where they were disassembling an NBI-issued Algos with a crowbar, then quietly returned to their task.

Gilthune gave a small shrug. “Should we make a new announcement that says the same thing but with more emojis?”

“No. We’re not putting emojis in a Keepstar evacuation order. This isn’t a daycare center.”

At that moment, another message blinked onto the screen.

“Hi, I heard MJ- might be unanchoring. Does this mean—”

Gobbins closed the console with one swipe, stood up, and walked out of the room without saying a word.

Somewhere, another Keepstar groaned under the weight of abandoned ships, market modules, and the eternal burden of people who only read the subject line.