Len Braid
Kindred of Scarecrows
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Posted - 2012.08.09 21:01:00 -
[1] - Quote
It's a big cluster, and I've been around it a bit. Not a lot of friends in the capsule piloting business, so I don't expect any of you know who I am or where I'm from. You'll just have to take my word for it.
Don't expect you to care neither, but that's your prerogative.
Now, I know this forum is not only seen by millions every day but it's also bugged. The Powers that Be each have their little analysts tucked away in a dark closet somewhere fastidiously reviewing every word I transmit. Well, read on. I have a story to tell you. It ends with me telling you that they (and most of you) are all rubbish. Oops. Spoiler alert.
Look, I'm just a good old boy from the backspaces of Solitude. I grew up right because my mother knew how to discipline little brats like me when their father was offworld. And, no surprise, when I came of age I shipped my happy ass off the planet too. Did ten years with Fed Customs busting up smugglers and keeping the "cluster safe for Democracy". Etcetera.
Turned out the whole time I had been sitting on a proverbial mine of noble metals. I watched you capsule pilots go from a tweaky little branch of the military's "special" people to a whole damn community of monocled robber barons. Almost been a full decade since you took off like that and by now the kinks are worked out and life's pretty good up here in space. Or so I heard. Imagine my luck when they told me I might have the right stuff to join you.
The Navy wasn't too sure about me though. Can't quite tell you what their malfunction was. Instead I ended up in the Republic because apparently they have the sense to incentivize. My dad was Matari blood, so they welcomed me in as a brother. This went great at first. My new friends brought me in and made me part of the clan. Started picking up the local idioms (and the local women). Training was going along smoothly until they decided I should go through the Voluval ritual.
Guess I was the idiot for agreeing to it, but hindsight and all that. Wanted to be a "real" Minmatar. Whatever that's supposed to mean.
I came out of the thing with a mark called the Scarecrow, which it just so happens is not the mark you want. Things at the academy turned sour fast. I was near the end of the program and too valuable an asset for them to expel me, but if I'd given them even the hint of a reason I know they'd have pounced on it. Instructors being bastards was one thing. All my new brothers and sisters turned their backs on me too. People didn't reply to my messages. They didn't even look me in the eyes when I went into the final qualification tests where they see if you're gonna wet grave or not. Then I found out right before graduation I'd been blacklisted from agent databases.
Yea, I thought about heading back to the Fed after I got my wings and just going home. Cooled my jets for a bit and decided, nah, that ain't me. I'm a Solitude boy and I didn't get into this for the pampered life. I did it because I could. And because it was just damn cool. Too bad most of the people I run into now think I'm a traitor or something when they run a quick GalNet scan and see the slander my dear Republic compatriots have offered up.
I did the ritual. I didn't ask for this.
I bet there are at least a handful of you out there who understand where I'm coming from. We've been built up and built up and told that if we play by the rules everything will work out for us, just to get pissed on for some reason or nother. I'm starting to think the best place for people like us is among each other out in space and as far off the grid as we can get.
The rest, like I said, are all rubbish.
If this sounds like your story, well you might as well call me kin. I'll see you in the mix.
-Len |