'Beautiful day, isn't it?'

Joaquin Farrad glanced curiously askance at the Caldari when the old man asked that question. The firmament above their heads was a dangerous looking blanket of opaque yellow pollution casting the pall of evening over the capital city of the Caldari state even at mid-day. The horizon in the distance was illuminated by eruptions of light from massive industrial complexes, the dull irregular thuds of pulsejet engines being tested on land sounding not unlike a thunderstorm. In this eerie suffocating light, Shogaatsu's face took on an even more sinister air than the Gallente fetishist was used to seeing. He wondered why the Caldari insisted on this place for their meeting. There was no beauty here...