It's probably because they work in wormhole space. W-space, the ultimate breeding ground for overnight wealth. That is, if you can safely mine without drawing out the Sleepers, ancient automatons designed for keeping intruders out. In Moira's weakly-fitted cruiser, and Nero's scanning frigate, they don't have a chance against Sleepers. Even peeking at them from hundreds of kilometers away is a huge risk.
But when they find an unprotected swath of space, that's where the money is. The profit margin of working in w-space is enormous, but only if you don't get killed. Getting killed is an extremely easy thing to do, and multiply that by roughly ten thousand in wormhole space. It's the Wild Wild Nullsec. No security rating, no police presence, nothing.
But you hit arkonor, and you throw all those fears and worries and insecurities away. It's the big one, one of the rarest and most valuable minerals in the universe, refining into glorious zydrine and megacyte. Millions can be made in a matter of minutes, in the right hands.
[/caption]Moira mines alone, extracting ore into a lonely container she'll retrieve later in a larger hauler. Her cruiser, the VOCS Halcyon 7, works as efficiently as she can: four mining drones and four mining lasers working nonstop to fill quota. Nero is alone, too, elsewhere in the system. He's in the middle of nowhere, sitting safe, launching probes to make sure he stays safe. First he probes for mineral deposits, and later he probes for incoming ships. They both know they'd be outgunned any time against a determined foe. In w-space, people get nervous. You might not even want to shoot at them, but you do anyway.
Nero's combat probes scan for ships, and this time, he finds one strange irregularity on his scanners. They're not the only one. Broadcasting this info to Moira, Moira slowly considers her next step. Instead of freaking and just leaving, losing out on potentially millions more, she decides to ask him to try to pinpoint this other ship's location.
That's when the weird things begin to happen. Nero pinpoints the ship a couple of minutes later. The ship is just a Minmatar Shuttle. Shuttles are a special class of ultralight vessels, mainly used by pilots quickly moving to pick up a bigger ship. It makes no sense to them as to why a Shuttle would be in wormhole space. Shuttles have no weapons, can't scout, and have incredibly weak armor. And Minmatar? The wormhole Moira and Nero came through was from Gallente space.
Moira is spooked, but she mines anyway. She's got enough for one refine of Arkonor, two hundred units, coming up to nearly 3,000 cubic meters worth of the rock. She heads out, asks Nero to stay safe (and alive, because that's a lot more profitable). Right as she warps at the wormhole exit, she opens her eyes to a very bad discovery.
A Caldari battlecruiser less than a couple of klicks away. At that range, she'd be dead long before she could scream back to him. She hammers the thrusters, hoping to get sucked through the 'hole as soon as possible. Too late; he's spotted her. Whether he'll shoot her or not is up to Fate. He doesn't.
Moira reports to Nero, telling him to pinpoint the interloper's position before she can come back in the hauler. The worst thing that could happen is a gatecamp is occurring. Gatecamps are when large numbers of ships mull around a chokepoint like a stargate or a wormhole, waiting for someone to go through for them to shoot at. Nero checks his instruments and it's clear.
[/caption]A nervous sort of hauling takes place. Even though it's just a single trip (and they hope to make at least a million, the most they've ever out of Arkonor), every part of Moira is alert, adrenaline rushing through her.
"Wait," Nero calls over the ship-to-ship node, a private Corporation channel known only to them. "He's... said something. In the open."
The Caldari battlecruiser's captain broadcasted two words in local, the open channel for all pilots inside the system. Wormhole comms work differently: without standard beacons, nobody has any idea who's in the system or who's listening to the channel. The only way to find out is to speak openly; speaking openly, though, opens yourself to attack. Other people know where you are, and it may take just a matter of minutes to scan and pinpoint their exact location.
But what the pilot says is cryptic, confusing them:
Salut caran.
"Salut caran?" Moira wonders. Nero starts probing and pinpointing the ship's location. Back to mining for Moira. Nero reports even more curious news: the new ship isn't just a battlecruiser — it's a command ship.
Moira and Nero realize one horrifying truth. Command ships typically work best when they're commanding a fleet.
Was there a fleet incoming? Nero checks his probes: no. There are only four vessels in-system: the Shuttle, the Command Ship, and Moira and Nero.
Salut Caran. A cryptic comment? Code? Some foreign language? Moira continues mining. An hour later and things still seem okay: Moira's hauling Arkonor, the Command Ship's still alone in some sort of empty safespot, and the Shuttle is also still perched in his lonely position. Nero's found strange signatures resembling structures near the Shuttle, but with other things on his mind, he doesn't investigate too closely.
In the end, no matter how safe you feel, the tranquil feeling of mining in a belt of wealth, space is ever the liar, cruel, misleading, and always full of surprises. Moira and Nero leave, curious but unwilling to risk their necks to find the answer to this Salut Caran question. Maybe Moira will bump into the same pilot again, and ask him. Most probably? In the expanse of space, such a repeat encounter could only be attributed to a more heavenly calling.
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