The Privateer/Chapter Z2
The both of us launched to space without a word to each other until we'd gotten well clear of the Midway. The Halcyon didn't seem intent on following us, which worried me. My little bluff at Marston would only last for so long. Somehow, I'd made it through that entire exchange without letting slip that I'd retired from the SLC Navy some years ago. The part about my reaching Colonel was no joke; evidently, though, Lucia thought it was. Just as my navigator reported that we'd reached 100 kilometers from the Midway, the comm unit beeped at me.
>stdout|open sound device /dev/vidcomm1 >stdout|open video capture device /dev/vidcomm1 >/dev/vidcomm1 ==> COMMTAG ID: F_E4_LUCIA; execute function A_InitComm(); >/dev/vidcomm1|/dev/tscript ==> INITIATE COMMUNIQUE TRANSCRIPT >F_E4_LUCIA "Oi, you got a bloody death wish?" >F_G5_1 "Apparently so, or I wouldn't still be flying with you." >F_E4_LUCIA "You never told me you were in the Navy." >F_G5_1 "Well, if we're airing our little secrets, you first, lady. I already took my turn back there and it's probably not going to hold the SLC off for long." >F_E4_LUCIA "Why should I tell you anything?" >F_G5_1 "We're still working together, right?" >F_E4_LUCIA "Not if I can't trust you. Coalition officer turned freelancer? Something don't add up there." >F_G5_1 "It's a long story." >F_E4_LUCIA "Fortunately for you, we've got plenty of time. The nearest dock is the one we just left and the next is all the way across system. Get talking." >F_G5_1 "[unintelligible]"
I start muttering swears under my breath. My career as a Coalition Navy officer was never that pleasant. There's a good - and classified - reason why I left. And yet, I'm about to divulge it to a freelancer.
>F_G5_1 "Alright. You listening?" >F_E4_LUCIA "Yeah."
Way back at the turn of the 23rd century was when the Solar Liberty Coalition finally decided they'd had enough of Earth. Up to that point, a lot of Earth land had been sold, and a lot of their population had decided to become colonists or freelancers, going spaceward to help the expansion efforts. Since nobody was around to claim the land, most of it got sold to banks and corporations or used as collateral for ship-buying loans. And since the colonists inevitably didn't return for whatever reason, the banks and corporations were able to annex a lot of land that now had no owner. About 99% of Earth's surface was now owned by corporate entities. The land got covered in infrastructure, megacities, even self-contained "city-structures." An Earther could live their entire life inside one building and never see the light of day.
But that's about when the SLC cut Earth from their ranks. None of the major corporations on Earth were doing anything to aid the colonization movement. Most were contributing the bare minimum of resources and the lowest quality supplies to SLC colonies. Even farm exports were poor quality, and those are arguably the most important colony export. The Coalition decided that they didn't need this and sent one supply vessel loaded with expired corn crops right back where it came from, with a message that boils down to "Get that crap outta here."
Nobody really knows who attached the message or who wrote it. Earth government certainly wasn't losing any sleep over it; after all, they didn't need to spend their precious fuels sending junk crops into space anymore. But then, one of the Coalition's visiting emissary shuttles received a counter-message from somewhere on Earth. I couldn't tell you exactly what it was, but I've been told that it was equivalent to "So's yer mum."
Interstellar relations experts probably argue to this day over how this little argument could have escalated so badly, but the short version is that eventually, Earth and the SLC went to war. It was 2202. I was 17 years old and living just off the moon colony. When the call came out for all able-bodied youngsters to come to the aid of the Coalition, I joined up. At that point, I'd had probably three years' experience shuttling my deadbeat dad home from the bar. Well, he wasn't going to have his free cab rides anymore, but I was about to get my first real job as a Coalition pilot.
At first I wasn't useful for much. Most of the fighting at that point involved infantry units boarding each other's ships, and I didn't sign up for soldiering. When I turned 18, the Coalition assigned me to BDA duty; battle damage assessment. I basically flew circles around derelict cruisers and took photos of interesting-looking holes.
