The Black Mesa system had first been colonized by the Black Mesa Research Consortium. It sat on the furthest edge of Solarian space, surrounded by The Iron Workers and other independent races with which it had built a successful trading alliance.
Like the people of Agile, the human colonists had eagerly followed our exploits in the Cack media so that our arrival was welcomed as if we were a victorious ZGB team returning from a championship game. Our biographies were the top file links on all the local portals and video clips of our battle with Righteous Ruler had been cached on every server in the system. When our crews went on leave, they were treated like heroes and one of our fleet commanders, Maxwell, even signed a soft-drink endorsement for enough money to completely replace his flag-ship if he had wanted to.
We stayed in system a month living on gratuities and easy contracts which the locals had arranged for us with their alien neighbors. As we moved into our second month however, the money began to dry up, the aliens began complaining about the burden of supporting us and even the Solarian naysayers were commenting on the growing anti-Solarian sentiment in the Cack Moirarchy. Some interviewers began to ask how we felt about our responsibility for the growing Cack opinion that the Solarian species was dangerous and should be eliminated.
Our arrival had turned the Black Mesa Colony into a regional power overnight, but unless they began conquering their neighbors, they couldn't afford us. Realizing we would soon outlive our welcome, we held a meeting of the Consolidated Solarian Fleet shareholders which, since the reorganization, include everyone from the lowest- maintenance worker to the fleet commanders. The discussion in v- space ranged all over the map with some arguing we should set up an Moiarchy of our own right there, to others arguing passionately that we leave immediately for the nearest transit station and not stop moving until we saw our home worlds.
Hundreds of side conversation followed that theme on various discussion boards, but the overall sentiment was best summarized by a fighter service technician named Leon. He said, "I for one am tired of all the traveling and fighting, of emergency duties, emergency repairs and emergency rations. I just want it to end. Since we're in a Solarian trading port, I say we grab a jump ship, or a luxury passenger liner and let others worry about getting us home. Heck, I don't even care if you have to freeze me and put me on a corpsicle transport. My contract was up months and months ago. I'm ready to go off-duty."
A clear majority agreed with him so a vote wasn't even necessary. Smith, who had largely been silent during the meeting, spoke up. "If that is how you feel, it so happens that the head of the Spartan military transport and logistics command is a close personal friend of mine. If you wish, I can take a jump transport back to Sparta where I'm confident I can arrange for transport for all of us back home."
This, of course, was the best idea any of them had ever heard and everyone immediately agreed to Smith's plan. I felt like a kill-joy as I signaled my intent to speak. "I know you are all thinking about what you want to do when you get home, but there are a few practical matters we need to discuss first." The side conversations died down on the message boards and I could feel the excitement drain out of v- space.
"Even if Commander Smith finds a jump ship tomorrow and jumps directly to New Sparta, I don't have to tell you that the wheels of military bureaucracy turn slowly. It could well be months before he gets here with any jump ships so we need to plan how we're going to support ourselves while we wait." The messages had nearly ceased, though I saw a few comments agreeing with me.
"First I'd like to suggest we set up a central contracting authority to help us look for work. We've nearly exhausted our local support so we're going to have to turn to systems further out. Also, you may come across opportunities on your own. I think everyone who finds their own contracts or finds an opportunity to turn privateer should at least notify contracting so we can provide logistical support or, if necessary, come rescue your butts if you get in over your heads."
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The Ascent
Science FictionIt was only supposed to be a minor military expedition and Kenneth Phon was only supposed to be an observer. But when the ambitions of powerful men turn to betrayal and murder, the largest human war fleet ever assembled finds itself leaderless and l...
