I fell in love with Shadow the first time I stepped on her soil. The pastoral setting reminded me of home and for the first time in I don't know how long, I felt happy and content. I met Mikie Rhiadra and Duncan Cooperstone almost immediately. They made me feel welcome and set me up as a member of the 12th Cavalry. That's the true meaning of hospitality - I was so obviously not a soldier and knew nothing about the discipline of the military. But they took me in all the same. Under their tutelage I began to learn what it was to be a soldier. For some insane reason I still don't understand, Duncan let me train to become a pilot. It's a wonder I didn't kill myself and everyone else when I started flying.
Then I met Pete Camino one day as I wandered Shadow. We were both new and green and a bit lost. Within a day or two he became a dear friend - don't know how it happened so fast for two people that don't trust easily, but it did. He is part of my heart now and that will never change so long as there's a 'verse. Cantankerous ol' so-and-so....
As time went on I met others - Lerch, Tabi, Tee, Sentry, Immy, Kerm, Luke, Pod, and many more - all of whom helped out the newcomer till somehow...Shadow became home and they became family. One day, miracle of miracles, a dear friend from back home appeared - Anastasia Horngold. Ana still won't talk much about her past - I suspect it's because she's had Alliance trouble as well. But she's here now and I'm reunited with a much beloved friend.
Life became bearable again on Shadow as sorrow receded into the background....then enjoyable...then...even happy - in spite of Alliance interference. Started building a place w/Ana. We both wanted...needed....roots again. A place where you felt safe.
It was not to last.
The Alliance never lets up its harassment and eventually redeployment orders came through. Some of us were going to have to leave Shadow - never to return - for SpecOps. It was the only way to keep Shadow, and so many people we loved, safe from the Alliance. A half a dozen of us were chosen. Some honor. But it would be worth it if loved ones were protected.
The day we left many hearts were broken - likely never to be mended. That's all I have to say about that.
We've ended up - for now - on a place called MacLaren's Drift. A terraformed moon that has one hell of a collection of criminals, cutthroats, and miscreants - starting with the "mayor" - one Moonshine Kalinakov. She gives new meaning to the old phrase "corrupt politician".
We're trying to get along on Mac's, as we call it. Little food, not enough supplies, and a population that would mostly like to slit our throats for fun. Looks like we'll be here a long while so we run odd jobs as they come up. Duncan still watches out for us on that count. Rumor has it that there's rundown Companion House and accompanying buildings up the mountain. Maybe I'll go exploring one day. If it's true, it might make a nice home with some work.
How the hell did I get here?
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
The Candle Continues To Burn
It was a lie. Not the whole thing, mind you. Just one part. I had no intention of ever bringing this up, but now it's out and you might as well know the whole story.
I was not at a companion house when the war started. I had just finished med school as tensions were escalating. As I said before, we'd never had any real dealings with either faction, so we didn't have any particular attachments. I became a doctor at a leading Core hospital where I'd done my residency. When war broke out and they asked for doctors to go to the front, I volunteered. My concern was for injured human beings, not for any political ideology.
Then I saw the results of war and learned what the Core was really all about. Everything changed. I heard the accounts of slaughter and destruction - often told with great mirth and pride. The great joy they took in robbing people of their freedom, liveliehoods and homes sickened me. I found the whole thing deplorable and every day my sympathies aligned ever closer to the Browncoats. But I was only a doctor. What could I do?
Then that first private died from his wounds - an infection we could not stop. A horrible notion began to form in my mind. No. NO! I was sworn to protect life. Do no harm. Then I went home and saw what happened to my parents and our home. When I returned to the front I allowed the idea that had formed to manifest. In retrospect, I think I went a little crazy, otherwise I never could have done what I did.
I never killed any soldier or officer outright. Many just died from infections in their wounds. It was quite easy really. Every time someone with an infection was brought to camp, I would take two swabs. One went to the lab. I would hide the other one and use it as necessary, typically on the best pilots, snipers, most experienced officers, etc. In a few days the infection would do them in. I always kept them sedated so they wouldn't be in pain, but that's probably not much to say.
One day I was treating an officer that had been brought in - sniper hit him in the shoulder. I was looking at him, debating, when my head nurse walked up to the bed. She stood across from me and asked all the appropriate questions about the patient. Then caught my eye and mouthed, "They know." My blood froze. I did my best to look both innocent and quizzical. She shook her head as if to say, "Don't bother. I know it's true." As I continued to assess and treat the patient, my mind raced through my options. Should I wait till my next trip to the Core to run? Should I run now? What do I do? When I finished with the patient, the nurse returned and asked if I would follow her - they needed a doctor to go with the transport on this one. With so many witnesses, I was trapped. I had to go. We headed toward the transport; I was sure there were officers waiting to arrest me.
Instead the nurse shoved a bag in my hand declaring loudly that, "these are extra supplies". She pushed me into the transport and the door shut. The next thing I knew, the pilot was telling me everything was fine and he'd get me out. I looked in the duffel bag and found most of my belongings the nurse must have quickly packed for me. We stopped on Ariel to refuel. For some reason, I had the presence of mind to head for a bank and quickly close my accounts. I knew this would red flag me, but at this point, that was immaterial. I would need every penny I'd saved. The transport was refueled and we were off. We set down on some desolate rock - some sort of engine trouble. I was "safe" from the Alliance - for now. So, I made my way to a companion house, changed my name, changed my look, hid my money and began a new life.
The years spent as a companion were happy ones. As we choose our clients, I was able to carefully screen each one to make sure that I didn't run across any old Alliance "friends". Life as a companion can also become tedious. I grew tired of practicing our "arts" every day, of constantly fearing I'd run into an old enemy, of....many things - including, by now, the ongoing Alliance interference in everyone's lives. I decided to find a new home. One further out in the Black.
I was not at a companion house when the war started. I had just finished med school as tensions were escalating. As I said before, we'd never had any real dealings with either faction, so we didn't have any particular attachments. I became a doctor at a leading Core hospital where I'd done my residency. When war broke out and they asked for doctors to go to the front, I volunteered. My concern was for injured human beings, not for any political ideology.
Then I saw the results of war and learned what the Core was really all about. Everything changed. I heard the accounts of slaughter and destruction - often told with great mirth and pride. The great joy they took in robbing people of their freedom, liveliehoods and homes sickened me. I found the whole thing deplorable and every day my sympathies aligned ever closer to the Browncoats. But I was only a doctor. What could I do?
Then that first private died from his wounds - an infection we could not stop. A horrible notion began to form in my mind. No. NO! I was sworn to protect life. Do no harm. Then I went home and saw what happened to my parents and our home. When I returned to the front I allowed the idea that had formed to manifest. In retrospect, I think I went a little crazy, otherwise I never could have done what I did.
I never killed any soldier or officer outright. Many just died from infections in their wounds. It was quite easy really. Every time someone with an infection was brought to camp, I would take two swabs. One went to the lab. I would hide the other one and use it as necessary, typically on the best pilots, snipers, most experienced officers, etc. In a few days the infection would do them in. I always kept them sedated so they wouldn't be in pain, but that's probably not much to say.
One day I was treating an officer that had been brought in - sniper hit him in the shoulder. I was looking at him, debating, when my head nurse walked up to the bed. She stood across from me and asked all the appropriate questions about the patient. Then caught my eye and mouthed, "They know." My blood froze. I did my best to look both innocent and quizzical. She shook her head as if to say, "Don't bother. I know it's true." As I continued to assess and treat the patient, my mind raced through my options. Should I wait till my next trip to the Core to run? Should I run now? What do I do? When I finished with the patient, the nurse returned and asked if I would follow her - they needed a doctor to go with the transport on this one. With so many witnesses, I was trapped. I had to go. We headed toward the transport; I was sure there were officers waiting to arrest me.
Instead the nurse shoved a bag in my hand declaring loudly that, "these are extra supplies". She pushed me into the transport and the door shut. The next thing I knew, the pilot was telling me everything was fine and he'd get me out. I looked in the duffel bag and found most of my belongings the nurse must have quickly packed for me. We stopped on Ariel to refuel. For some reason, I had the presence of mind to head for a bank and quickly close my accounts. I knew this would red flag me, but at this point, that was immaterial. I would need every penny I'd saved. The transport was refueled and we were off. We set down on some desolate rock - some sort of engine trouble. I was "safe" from the Alliance - for now. So, I made my way to a companion house, changed my name, changed my look, hid my money and began a new life.
The years spent as a companion were happy ones. As we choose our clients, I was able to carefully screen each one to make sure that I didn't run across any old Alliance "friends". Life as a companion can also become tedious. I grew tired of practicing our "arts" every day, of constantly fearing I'd run into an old enemy, of....many things - including, by now, the ongoing Alliance interference in everyone's lives. I decided to find a new home. One further out in the Black.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
One life ends and another begins
The first thing I did was throw up. The scene before me was incomprehensible - my heart told me what I saw was a lie as my mind told me it was true. I would not, could not accept this as reality. My gut made the decision for me. As I dropped to my knees in the dirt, I threw up again. I realized that at some point I'd started sobbing.
There was nothing but scorched earth, a burnt, crumbling fireplace, and the ashes of our belongings where our family home had stood. I saw the charred remains of my beloved parents in each other's arms on the ground in what had been our kitchen. That warm, cheery room where I had spent so many happy hours with my parents and brothers had been turned into a place of unspeakable horror.
I knew my father had been getting anonymous threats. That's why I came home. Unfortunately, the threats had been coming for a long time before my parents told me what was happening. As a registered companion, I control much of my schedule. I left for home as soon as I found out, but I was too late. For anything.
My father was a doctor. A good one. He believed in healing people rather than getting rich. He believed in "free thinking", as he called it, rather than following the pack. He believed in liberty and personal responsibility rather than oppression and ease. His beliefs cost him his life.
Mother was much like Daddy. Just quieter. With her lovely dark hair and flashing eyes, she was a free spirit, a painter, a sculpter and a poet. She loved her family with an abiding passion that spilled over into everything and everyone she touched. Each day now is, above all, a day without my parents.
Now they were both dead because my father chose to treat people without ever asking their beliefs or affiliations. He had been receiving death threats for treating 3 people who were believed to be Browncoat sympathizers and had been labeled "troublemakers". He had been told to stop treating them - or else. He ignored the threats. He had been told to close up shop and leave town - or else. He ignored the threats. His life and the lives of his family had been threatened. He ignored the threats. Daddy didn't believe in "giving into bullies" as he called it. He'd been threatened before and survived. He'd never been threatened by Alliance sympathizers. They're different.
When I finally pulled myself to my feet I saw the rough hewn sign nailed to the crumbling fireplace. I'd missed it at first. "Death to all Browncoat scum!" was scrawled in blood. I wanted to pound my fists, kick and scream until....what? Life was all better?
Why???? WHY???? We had nothing to do with the Browncoats during the war. We had nothing to do with the Alliance either. We lived in one of the few areas untouched by the war. Admittedly, my father felt the Browncoats were entitled to their freedom and the Alliance should leave them alone. We all felt that way. But Daddy was too old to fight and my brothers were too young. I was in a companion house. When the war was over, we went on. Daddy was unhappy about many of the new Alliance restrictions, but he felt that as long as he could continue to practice medicine, we would be alright. So that's what he did. Just try to heal people. Until that day.
By the time the war was over I was a registered companion. Alliance regulations were helpful in my work. They helped to keep all registered companions safe and healthy. I had no illusions about the goals of the Alliance, but I was much like my father - leave me to do my work and we'll have no quarrel. That's exactly what I did. Until that day.
No matter now how many years the war had been over. For me, the battle lines had been drawn. I was no longer a companion. With the stench of fire in my nostrils and my eyes burning from tears and ashes, I was now a Browncoat.
There was nothing but scorched earth, a burnt, crumbling fireplace, and the ashes of our belongings where our family home had stood. I saw the charred remains of my beloved parents in each other's arms on the ground in what had been our kitchen. That warm, cheery room where I had spent so many happy hours with my parents and brothers had been turned into a place of unspeakable horror.
I knew my father had been getting anonymous threats. That's why I came home. Unfortunately, the threats had been coming for a long time before my parents told me what was happening. As a registered companion, I control much of my schedule. I left for home as soon as I found out, but I was too late. For anything.
My father was a doctor. A good one. He believed in healing people rather than getting rich. He believed in "free thinking", as he called it, rather than following the pack. He believed in liberty and personal responsibility rather than oppression and ease. His beliefs cost him his life.
Mother was much like Daddy. Just quieter. With her lovely dark hair and flashing eyes, she was a free spirit, a painter, a sculpter and a poet. She loved her family with an abiding passion that spilled over into everything and everyone she touched. Each day now is, above all, a day without my parents.
Now they were both dead because my father chose to treat people without ever asking their beliefs or affiliations. He had been receiving death threats for treating 3 people who were believed to be Browncoat sympathizers and had been labeled "troublemakers". He had been told to stop treating them - or else. He ignored the threats. He had been told to close up shop and leave town - or else. He ignored the threats. His life and the lives of his family had been threatened. He ignored the threats. Daddy didn't believe in "giving into bullies" as he called it. He'd been threatened before and survived. He'd never been threatened by Alliance sympathizers. They're different.
When I finally pulled myself to my feet I saw the rough hewn sign nailed to the crumbling fireplace. I'd missed it at first. "Death to all Browncoat scum!" was scrawled in blood. I wanted to pound my fists, kick and scream until....what? Life was all better?
Why???? WHY???? We had nothing to do with the Browncoats during the war. We had nothing to do with the Alliance either. We lived in one of the few areas untouched by the war. Admittedly, my father felt the Browncoats were entitled to their freedom and the Alliance should leave them alone. We all felt that way. But Daddy was too old to fight and my brothers were too young. I was in a companion house. When the war was over, we went on. Daddy was unhappy about many of the new Alliance restrictions, but he felt that as long as he could continue to practice medicine, we would be alright. So that's what he did. Just try to heal people. Until that day.
By the time the war was over I was a registered companion. Alliance regulations were helpful in my work. They helped to keep all registered companions safe and healthy. I had no illusions about the goals of the Alliance, but I was much like my father - leave me to do my work and we'll have no quarrel. That's exactly what I did. Until that day.
No matter now how many years the war had been over. For me, the battle lines had been drawn. I was no longer a companion. With the stench of fire in my nostrils and my eyes burning from tears and ashes, I was now a Browncoat.
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