{{RP blog for original characters from an original work. The story is set pretty firmly in a space/futuristic verse (see Universe tab). Will be picky with writing partners for that reason alone. Please read this page first and then have fun exploring for info. Theme works best in Chrome.}}
It's twenty generations into the future and humanity is leaking out over the solar system and beyond. Colonies stretch over every planet and moon. Space travel is commonplace, though only the really crazy ones shoot out past the borders of Pluto's orbit. They also don't often come back.
The Earth and its empire are ruled by a monarchy that has become all but impotent. The royal family are figureheads used to keep the populace in a false sense of security. The real masters are the members of the Systems Military Council.
Old Earth cultures have altered over time. New cultures have spawned from extreme circumstances. There is insanity out in the starlit black. But the really mad thing is the way the unenlightened continue to plod along in their lives, cogs in the machine, not realizing there are men in uniforms keeping the machine running, keeping them all as happy, stupid slaves.
One idiotic flyboy dared to defy them. To the rest of the system, he and his crew are considered even more dangerous than the common pirates and murderers that lurk the asteroid belt. Even more insane than the comet jockeys and Blood Priests of Mars.
But some people just can't be happy with what they have.
Some people dare to be free.
Hello there. Captain Cross here. Formerly "commander," but we don't talk about that. The Analeigha's my boat. I stole her, fair and square. You want her for something, you ask me first. My crew's sort of independent, so ask them if you want something from them. I ain't their daddy.
Fair warning: Sparky's a nightmare in the mornings, Indira's always a little abrasive, and the Kid, well, at least he's smart. Don't even talk to Maddy if I'm not around. Wouldn't want a repeat of last month. Took forever to get the blood off my baby's walls. And speaking of blood--we got one of those psycho Martian boys, too, so don't piss me off or I'll sic him on you.
Just kidding. Mostly.
We'll do just about anything for pay. After all, it's hard to make a living when you're on the SMC's hot red radar. Yeah. We're that crew. And just for the record, I did not "accost" the Grand General's wife. She came onto me. If that doesn't say something about the GG's priorities, I dunno what does.
They say we're anarchists. I sorta like the ring of that. And if rejecting the government makes it true, then I guess that's what we are. So fuck 'em.
“Don’t you think if I knew the answer to that I wouldn’t be here right now?” The tone remained cordial. The look she gave him wasn’t and hovered between searching and something approaching annoyed. Not at Cross though. Well maybe a bit at Cross but not because of what he’d said and asked.
For just a moment there’d been that something there. That hint of depth that occasionally peeked out of the man that indicated something a little more astute then the fly boy image he fronted people. There was no real way of knowing how much of it was real and how much wasn’t but Kenzi had seen the other side of that shield often enough now that she’d been comfortable asking him for help. A fact she reminded herself of as she tilted her head at him.
“I don’t suppose you’d perhaps like to tell me cap?” Fingers crossed its something I can work with. Just because simple solutions were best didn’t mean they were easy.
He’d given up bigger secrets to people trying a whole lot harder than she was now. Cross simply wasn’t the type to make someone work for something. He’d never understood that. Testing especially—the kind that didn’t just rate a skill—frustrated him to no end. If someone around you had the answer, why struggle? In this case, the something she wanted to know had a side effect of increased harmony on his ship. They had enough strife from outside sources. The last thing he wanted was to return to the days of Indira trying to assassinate Reaper during his morning meditation.
So he sighed. Heavily. “Oh, fine. I’ve always had a weakness for gorgeousness.”
He sat up a little, leaning toward her reclined form as if sharing a secret.
“Alix comes from a large family. Lots of siblings he had to be in charge of. Like a third parent. Or fourth parent, I suppose. He has an older sister, but from what I understand she was terribly clever immediately and moved out at a young age. He’s built for responsibility, you see. Practically has it leaking from his pores. You, darling, fly in the face of that. You’re all spirit and freedom. Add to that you duplicating his skillset, eliminating his sole responsibility for the well-being of this ship, and you building improvements upon the foundation he spent a standard year fostering…”
He paused for a drag and seemed to change course a bit.
“Imagine if you will that you’ve created…a robot. Built from scratch, a perfect android. Every piece you’ve designed yourself, smelted yourself, fitted and connected. The innards are perfect, compact, the synthetic mind processing away like mad. It needs a few tweaks still, but things you’ll finish up as you get to them. It’s a project of love. It’s yours. Then someone walks in and adds a coat of paint and says ‘Look how good that is. It’s my robot, too, now.’ Yes, it is good. The paint’s necessary. Helpful, even, because you had other things to focus on to bother with paint. But it’s not a balanced scale. Not to say you made any such claim, but it’s how he sees it.”
The captain leaned back again and took a few puffs of the cigarette, seemingly done. But then he turned his wrist and flicking ash, added—
“To get back to answering my own question: Alix wants two things in this life, Kenzi. Recognition and respect. He’s had plenty of the former, less so of the latter, and I don’t expect you to manage both. But can you fathom why he dislikes your very existence if not your whole approach? I know you understand—look at you, you glorious genius. But you’re not exactly a team player. Which is tragic, honestly, because I could see you fitting very well here.”
He stopped talking abruptly, as if realizing he’d begun to drift topics and perhaps said too much. Rather than cover it, though, he shut up and went back to smoking.
concept: space pirates who sound exactly like regular pirates, except replace all references to “the sea” with “the void”
“aye, the void is a harsh mistress,” the captain said, gazing out the window of her ship into the vast starry expanse. “she’ll take more than she gives, in the end. but those who are called to life in the void don’t know any other way.”
ive been writing this program to keep track of when you do day to day tasks like doing dishes/laundry. anyways my streak of “bugs in things i write manifesting as infinite loops of unexpectedly poignant user prompts” continues
[Image: a computer screen with a command-prompt style interface and a string of “What have you done?” in green in a row all the way down the screen.]
