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“Huh, some of these panels have been replaced.” I said tapping a space-gloved finger against a screen of the glass cockpit on the Ghost Stalker; this was our shakedown cruise.
“Maybe someone face punched it in G-LOC.” Nav commed back over our internal suit radios.
“That isn’t an encouraging statement.”
The war had changed people, changed their brains, the past was fading badly, why things had been the way they were before had no meaning. Everything was thrown up in the air and where it comes down, who cares? The continuity is lost, those that had something before, were desperate to try to get back to the way things were, it was not going to happen, things are never going to be the same, it is a clean break now.
Mercenaries versus raiders, is the game now, no more Sidereal Federation or Solis Unity in the gritty space between when the song is over, ideology has only so many miles before you are riding on air. Now that the Big Parade has passed, sides feel meaningless, looking out a 1000 kilometers, into the atmosphere, standing on a mountain top. If it weren’t for the event with the biotech suicides, truce is on the minds of those that have fought for so long to nothing good come of it. Stepping off into the void is the right way of thinking now that the flames have burned down to embers, the Sidereals not even wanting to see the Unity again, or hear its name, vengeance loses its flavor when all that is left is a bitter drink with the ashes of dreams, mixed in the blood of friends and enemies.
The Corporation is sending out some eyes to have a look for where it’s from, no need to call in the Navy, who would pry into business better left un-noticed by the government, or at least until plans have developed further. Finding trouble on their own is good, send in Corporate security to deal with it, and these little merc groups, backdoor finance by the Apollo Corp, except not a subsidiary, let them keep their plausible deniability. Even if not finding it, someone must do the flybys of all the bodies down to little rocks, it’s scut work in its own way, except not if one is the type to appreciate the desolate scenery.
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