Wrack, Gear and Pinion - part I

It drifts into focus every now and again.

"...*%$...and then she said: Put it..&*%..%£..good price on those perf..*$..%~..<raucous laughter>...%$..."

The rocks slip past. The miners mine. The local sec wanders over and sticks its nose in your business and, realising you're not on their wanted list, loses interest thereafter.

Sometimes its a goon running with the local trouble makers who wants a piece of the pie. Someone else's pie. Then it gets loud, noisy and violent before a peace can return again.

"...$*£...heard about some trouble...%:*...some mil plans lost...%*$"

The focus sharpens. It is all too common for the military to lose some of their intelligence, and you're left wondering how much they actually have left. Gossip about it on an open channel is dangerous though.

For those who care about gathering intel there is a need to find who is listening. Who notices. What action is taken. How they cover their tracks.

Set a mission with some honey and the vibrations will ripple out, touching the honest, devious or down right dangerously psychopath. For those gathering knowledge it is often the path taken that has more interest, rather than who picks up at the end. New and big players are more important than the small fry: after all they can do a lot of damage... and quickly.

Some courier running a mission from the bulletin board is playing the game and rarely knows who else silently watched them sign up. Whether it is a genuine data chip or some misdirection planted onto an unsuspecting mule - well that's never too clear. The courier's ship is wrecked though by interested parties, and some cargo left drifting for the scavengers to pick upon.

"....&*%...lost near Dulos....~&£...local commander...%$:*...right returned after the troubles...*£@"

Pin. Sharp. Focus.

That's over 100 light years away and its still on the local comms traffic. A long way to go for casual chatter on an open channel.

Could that have been part of a name? I fought at Lugh alongside a friend, and he mentioned returning to Dulos for his family after the conflict. The same commander?

There is also a question on whether I'm the one being played here... who will notice an attempt to establish a connection with an old friend. I have to remind myself here that there is a fine line between intuition and paranoia. It can only take you so far, but play it out so long as it keeps you alive.

Hand on throttle I casually push my ship clear of the rocks after a few more uneventful passes. The miners left behind seem oblivious to the departure of a protector.

I need to find out if I still have a friend.

A new dawn at Lugh

There is a peace here now.

Of a sorts.

A hope of tomorrow being different to recent memory. That the future holds a brighter and better thing than recent uncertainty and doubt, pain and fear, sacrifice and loss.

The waging of war has torn this system asunder and now it needs time to rebuild. The Federation is gone, but has certainly not gone far. It will not forget for a long time the solitary system that roared.

Long after the deaths of thousands of civilians there will be a memory of a bloody nose. Perhaps historians will look back with the benefit of hindsight, and more complete knowledge, and call this a cusp in the long history of the Federation.

For now though there is still work to do.

Both factions need stability. Leaders of both sides must learn to operate in a peaceful coexistence again. In a far better way than the rabble rousing and drum beating of war.

Much has been done in the name of people of Lugh. They rightfully expect no less.

Though a nagging doubt arises and I hope that it is just an aberration. When bounty hunters act to drive away lawlessness and bring a return to order, then why does the Crimson State Group have trouble with bounty hunters. A misunderstanding?

For now I can't tell. But I'll stay around for a while to see what emerges.

The quiet before the storm

There was too much at stake.

Lugh stands as a dark reminder of why we talk first. Of why we listen to each other. It is a civilised way to resolve and compromise on differing view points. Much can be achieved without shedding a single life.

The Federation is holding on to all who fall under its protection. Many are united under one banner and welcomed with open arms, and it is so very... very... easy to join. Though once discomfort grows, and circumstances change, it can be found that there are no rules on how to leave. No way to step back outside and say "Thank you, but this is no longer what we want."

Whether won in bloody conflict, or gained through decades of tact and diplomacy, a freedom is earned and defended by those who value it. When the government that you have is no longer the government that you want or can afford then you walk the path of secession.

When leaders and diplomats fail to find a way then there is a civilised war. One that has rules. Where commitments are made and binding contracts are entered into.

Tonight I feel a little cheaper in my soul; in a place where the alcohol cannot dull the pain. Whether signing up to fill your wallet, or protect those you love, the risks are known and understood. Those who have died up until now knew the choices they were making.

Over 9000 civilians dead. Federation civilians in the wrong place. Dead by the hand of their own government.

A civilised war would call that a crime.

The Crimson State Group are desperate enough to take a merc who has fought and killed many of their own. Under contract of course.

Though I may have lost sight of what is right I do still know what is wrong.

No longer am I alone.

A blood dawn at Lugh

I visited Lugh once when I had just started schooling. The people were warm and welcoming and I have fond recollection of a family holiday. Like all childhood memories there are rose tinted moments that have been forgotten... now remembered... and put into light in a way that only a grown mind can comprehend.

A thin red line that was never going to be crossed.

A strange symbol painted on a wall: attractive to a curious young mind but coloured a bright angry red. Father picking up the pace and ushering the family on quickly. Angry voices stirring behind us. Our mother drawing us closer and a question dying on my lips: barely started and quickly shushed.

My memory has no understanding of the loud voices spoken by strangers and in another tongue. My grown up eyes see anger directed at unnamed tourists in the wrong place. We were not local. Not so friendly.

The innocence has gone now and the fierce local pride has spilled over. The desire to have self determination has grown and bloody war has finally dawned in Lugh.

For me there is no great love for the Federation, and childhood memories blunt the call for freedom in Lugh. So I can't quite bring myself to believe either side. That memory 40 years gone has now dulled any passion for the cause.

Perhaps I have become more mercenary in the way that I view the world, especially when fighting battles on behalf of others.

That wasn't expected.