The fluctuating definitions of stress

The calendar period known as "the holidays" has never been a favorite for me.  Never mind the religious connotations, shared between several, but not all, common religions.  Never mind the "seasonal" aspects, which are entirely based on the northern hemisphere of Earth that Was.  For me, the holidays have always been a bit of a roller coaster, and not in the fun way.

I can think of so many family events over the holidays that this time of year has as many bad connotations as good.  It was this time of year that I met Sabrina, which led to some blissful times and a painful breakup.  

The holidays are times to spend with friends and family and, right now, I don't have contact with either.  'Brina's gone.  Simon's off on another Op.  The girls are . . . elusive.   Even Sobi's been hard to reach, shuttling around the Border and Rim systems trying, without much luck, to track down Lily.

And then there is the stress.

There was an old definition of stress that said it was: "The mind overriding the body's desire to choke the living shit out of some asshole who desperately needs it."

I felt that exact definition of stress when "Santa" showed up on Dragon's Egg as part of Blue Sun's holiday cheer festival.  Why, exactly, Niska was here was beyond me.  If only because I hadn't bothered to dig into his dealings especially deeply.  But the data was there.  Though it seemed he got the message over three years ago, the old sadist had resurfaced in our affairs on Dragon's Egg.

Since I wasn't the Mayor here, and KHI had no real financial interest in the colony any more, there was little I could do officially.  The exchange of a few snide comments was really all anyone saw of the brief encounter, for what it was worth.  But his presence, and even the hint he was meddling in my little girl's affairs, helped set a course.  It gave some actual purpose to "the holidays" for me.

In another time and place, I would have dealt with him personally.  But doing so would require explaining to other, powerful, forces exactly why I had deleted one of their assets.  Ultimately, for all his bravado, he was still just a sadistic petty crime lord who continued to draw breath because some powerful people in the Intel community found him "useful."  

It was the only reason I hadn't expended a Crowbar against his Skyplex.  While it would have been immensely satisfying to see the solid metal ingot smash through the structure so fast they wouldn't have had time to avoid it, I had other uses for that particular weapon.  Plus, I might have use for the Skyplex myself some day.

No.  I had better ways to deal with Mister Niska.

Reputation was paramount to him.  He'd worked long and hard to develop one.  I, on the other hand, had not.  While I had one, several, in fact, I didn't rely on my reputation to do my work for me.  Besides, the ones I was actually concerned about weren't common knowledge.  There was really nothing he could to do those.

I, on the other hand, had resources I could bring to bear to deal with the issue in a more subtle way.

Information is a powerful tool.  A powerful weapon.  In the right hands, it could be used for good.  In the wrong hands, it could be used for evil.  In my hands?

Bringing tools to bear

A fragile reputation

So easily lost

I told you before, Mister Niska.  Meddle not in the affairs of Dragons. For they are powerful creatures, subtle and quick to anger. And you are small and crunchy and taste good with ketchup.

You should have listened.

Conversations with a different friend

Surfer's New Paradise was aptly named.  At least if you were a surfer.  The world went under several different names depending on which chart you were looking at.  Surfer's New Paradise was the local name and the one I'd always known.  Blessed with plentiful water, it had been half sculpted by the original terraforming team into over a dozen small continents and thousands upon thousands of islands spread out into long chains covering the world's surface.  Their major industry was tourism, followed by aquaculture, followed by a mix of other light industries, agriculture, and service businesses, in a distant third, through every other, place.

While they were, officially, an Alliance world, they'd weathered the war essentially unscathed, in spite of playing host to both an Alliance and Independent presence on-world throughout the war.  There just hadn't been any fighting.  At least outside the confines of any number of beachfront bars.

Even now, the Alliance presence was hard to spot and played almost no part in local politics.  That was, of course, just how the locals liked it.  How they'd always liked it, going back as far as the colony's founding in the early days post-Exodus.  How they managed to maintain their relative independence was a standing question, left unanswered for many, many, years.

Surfer's New Paradise was also, unofficially, known as the home world of the Clan MacDude.  Or maybe officially too, if the Clan had anything official.  According to Clan legend, they were the planet's first colonists, which was actually a fact.  They'd arrived en-mass from Earth that Was aboard a privately owned and constructed, at Clan expense, Exodus Transport, which was probably a fact.  Also, supposedly, the world had been custom tailored to their needs, based on tropical sunshine, lots of beaches, and excellent surf, which may or may not have been a fact.  Their claims to have invented grass skirts and surfing were, almost certainly, an outright lie.  To this day over half the permanent inhabitants of Surfer's New Paradise could trace their ancestry back to the original colonists, and MacDude was still the most common surname - even when it wasn't actually a person's surname.

It was also home to the one person I knew, in the entire 'Verse, who came close to understanding how my little girl, Lily, was put together.

Uncle Sobi.

Sobi MacDude of the Clan MacDude.  Adopted son of Clan Kawanishi.  Surf bum.  Bartender second to none.  Fashion nightmare.  And, probably, the best biochemist in the 'Verse.

Sobi and Lady Jade had settled, more or less anyway, into a beachfront house on an island a short skimmer flight from the planet's premier University in one direction, and one of the small but advanced technical centers in the other.

I wouldn't be able to stay long, but I needed to get his take on what was happening to my little girl and whether she was in any real danger.

Lily was growing organs, probably to transplant into someone else, but how she was doing it and what the toll on her system were still unknowns.  She would risk herself if she thought she was doing right by someone.  Whether they deserved the risk or not.  Of course,  I tended to worry about her more than she worried about herself but, as her mother, that went with the job.

Sobi went over the reports I had on her condition and what she'd been doing.  Gleaned from a number of sources, some unmentionable, they were of varying accuracy and detail.  Even then, I could see his concern. When he spoke, to try and explain what he thought was happening in terms I could understand, all trace of the usual "menagerie" of accents he normally spoke with was gone, replaced by newscaster-clear Japanese, Russian, or English, sometimes in the same sentence.

"I need to see her, Kiddo.  Not enough information here to know what's going on and we may not have a lot of time if she's breaking down."

"Aren't you teaching or something?"

"Tenured professor, remember?  And I haven't taken a salary in 16 years.  They'll give me leave.  I'll get Mullis to take my classes for a couple weeks.  Just tell me where to find her."

Which I did, as best I could.  Sobi only knew a fraction of what I was doing, but I'd get him updates en-route.  The only questions whether whether he'd be able to actually get her to sit still long enough to figure out what was happening, and whether he would, in fact, be able to figure out what was happening.

A complex problem
Sometimes you need the big guns
Tenured Professor

Conversations with a friend

I had been meeting with Corrine Silvermane for, well, a while.  Our relationship had turned from purely professional in our capacities as the leader of a frontier colony and the leader of the military unit assigned to protect it, to purely professional in other capacities as my position evolved, to one of genuine mutual respect and an honest friendship.  I actually liked Cory.  Our meetings since I'd gone back to being a Spook were somewhat less formal than the ones we'd had when I was Mayor of Hale's Moon and she was the C.O. of the 1st Marine Raiders.

Never mind the ancient rule that Spooks were never supposed to become close to their assets.  Cory was not a simple asset.  She'd become more than an asset when the Loyalists who'd infiltrated into the 1st Marines tried to assassinate her on Hale's some years ago and she'd put her ass on the line not just for her command, but for the people who called Hale's home.  She was a big damn hero, but not many folk were aware of it.

The people of Hale's Moon knew.

I knew.

That would have to do.

Our usual meetings were at bistros or coffee houses chosen semi-randomly shortly before the meeting.  About the only thing that was arranged any time in advance was which world we'd be meeting on, as you couldn't swap worlds quite so easily as you could swap tea houses.  The amusing side benefit of the arrangement was that we were getting to sample the fare at cafe's neither of us would have discovered otherwise.  There were parameters, of course:  Reasonably secure location.  Easy ingress and egress.  Easily covered sight lines.  Clientele that we would fit in with.  Better then average ratings for food and service.  Nothing really extraordinary.

This meeting was at a sidewalk cafe inside a medium sized, trendy, Zocalo in Aberdeen's capital city.  It was a closer flight for Cory than it was for me, though she probably had more difficulty getting private time away from her security detail than I did.  Of course, not travelling with a security detail made it much easier for me by default.  Not that I hadn't considered having one, of sorts.  Even when I'd been Mayor on Hale's, the Militia Sniper teams that were stationed around the town had orders to keep an eye out for trouble whenever I was out and about.  They'd extended that protection to then-Colonel Silvermane, and Beth Lionheart, the Alliance Liaison officer when they were on the surface.  Not that we'd ever told either of them.

"You're looking well," I told her, settling in across the table from Silvermane.  It was true, actually.  She was looking well.  Not just dressed casually, and nicely, but she looked happier and more relaxed than I'd seen her in a while.

"Thanks, you too," she acknowledged, motioning the waiter over to order a locally grown sweet tea for herself and the usual double latte for me.   "Understand you and Simon are supposed to get hitched by the end of the year?  Congratulations.  Assuming it happens."

I had to laugh.  It was inevitable she'd hear about it, even stationed on a cruiser far from the little colony I called home.  But her observation was more or less on, as well.  An announcement didn't mean it would actually happen.  Though, if it did, I would make sure the General got an invitation.

"Thanks.  I'll let you know with enough time to make it."

As usual, our conversations started out with the normal 'catching up' conversation that would get people tuned out from the generically small talk of two women at lunch.  There was always some risk, of course, that someone might be listening in, but we weren't talking about anything that would be correlated to anything either of us were openly working on.  Imperfect.  But adequate for the current situation.  If we needed real security, we had it available.

"I talked to Taggart, you know," she dropped, shifting the conversation to business.  I had known, of course.  The fact of the conversation, at least, if not the content.

"I had, yes.  Anything good?"

"Could say so.  Was only the second time I've met him and we had a long heart to heart about what you're doing out here.  Filled me in on some of the details you'd been leaving out," she raised a hand to stop me from interrupting.  "Always knew there were things you weren't telling me.  Usually knew why.  I'm a field commander, not an Intelligence officer.  We live in different worlds.  I don't even want to know some of the details.  But we're both on the same page now, he and I."

We'd always had that understanding.  She'd known for a long time what my role was.  At least on the surface.  But I had kept her out of the loop on much of what I did.  I had to.  If she knew what I was doing, she'd be responsible for that knowledge.  It would have torn her between loyalties as an officer in the Alliance Military, and her personal ethics of doing what she felt was right.

"You and I have had an unusual relationship, Sea.  Even before I knew your background.  Always knew you were trying to maneuver this to a place where you could count on me without having to violate my ethics.  A fact I appreciate.  Probably more than I appreciate you saving my ass back over Hales.  Thing is, we both know what's coming.  Not a matter of if, but when."

She paused, taking a sip of her tea, then setting it to the side of the table so the waiter could deliver our lunch.

"The soldier in me, well, you know how I approach that.  Just wanted you to know, if you didn't already, that I'm with Taggart on this.  We'll have your back when it happens."

I had to appreciate her candor, and for forgiving me for leaving out as much as I had.  The fact was I needed Cory.  The 'Verse needed Cory, and people like her.  People willing and able to look long term and do what was needed when the time came.  People in positions to make a difference.

"Thank you, Corrine.  I appreciate that."

Taggart had given me free rein to do what I needed to do.  Technically, I was a Rogue Asset, but he'd buried my projects so deeply even the Alliance accountants wouldn't be able to find what I was doing.  While it helped that my project was largely self sustaining, I still had Alliance assets under my command and was, myself, still considered an asset.

It was just that I was looking at loyalties greater than the Alliance itself, on time scales probably greater than my own lifetime.

We do what we must
Alone, but never alone
It's good to have friends

Un-planning events

The town hall meetings on Dragon's Egg have changed character over time.  While Blue Sun was an original sponsor of the transition from the failed colony on Hale's Moon to the new location on Dragon's Egg, they had originally been somewhat hands off in the dealings.  Never mind that many of the "abandoned" facilities we'd "discovered" on the newly opened world belonged to them.  Officially they had been one of the contractors along with Ling Standard, Westinghouse, and Weyland Yutani, responsible for finally completing the terra-forming project.  No coincidence then that once the colony was established, they would take a more active role.

Except, I really didn't want to live in a Company Town.  Even if I had an understanding with the head of said company.  The Alliance presence was still there, but the friction had grown between the Alliance officials and the Cerberus Mercenaries to the point where Lionheart was barely willing to set foot on the planet.  It didn't help that there was some funny accounting going on where the Alliance was paying their obligations, but the Mercenaries playing rent-a-cop were claiming they weren't getting paid.  Bethany had my sympathy, even if it wasn't my problem.  Of course, the data was somewhere in the Sea, but I didn't care enough to pull it out.

I'm not sure why Simon decided to announce a date for the wedding at this latest Town Hall meeting.  Not many people there, and of those that were, only a few had been there for the original announcement and even fewer probably cared.  Worse, I'm not sure why he announced it would be here on Dragon's Egg.

In spite of his protest to the contrary, I couldn't see my parents, or, Buddha forbid, Grandfather, coming out to this frontier world.  Let alone a Blue Sun "company world," as it was becoming.  I didn't even want to consider what Grandfather's security detail would make of what passed for 'security' on Dragon's Egg.  Jet's offer to provide services aside, I had no desire to have he or his people involved in even the slightest way with my wedding.  I believe Niki's term for them when last we talked was "Ass Clowns."  But then, an ADG pilot was entitled to a low opinion of Mercenaries.  Not that I didn't share her opinion.

No, it was almost certain we'd have two ceremonies as I had had before when I married 'Brina: one on Ariel with the family, one out here on the Rim for the people we knew out here.  Though that seemed to be a much smaller group than it had been.

That thought brought home how distant I felt here.  When I'd arrived on Hale's Moon, they had needed someone with my skills and experience.  The situation demanded it.  Here?  Now?  The new colony didn't have any active enemies.  Blue Sun and the Alliance were paying the bills for the most part as things ramped up to make the colony self sufficient - if beholden to Blue Sun - and paid mercenaries were taking the place of Hale's home grown militia.  They didn't need technical advice.  They didn't need me to smuggle in or otherwise acquire vital supplies.  They didn't want any sort of leadership.  Most of the people I'd known on Hale's Moon and cared about had gone to other worlds, leaving only a handful who still remembered how things had been.

There were still reasons for me to be here, of course.  Some of them were deeply personal.

But bring my family out here for a wedding?

No.  Not going to happen.

I would sooner hire a liner to take those few people on the Rim I cared about to Ariel, in first class accommodations, and put them up for a week than bring my parents here.  We'd have a ceremony out here for those who couldn't, or wouldn't, come coreward for the "real" one.  The folks here deserved that much at least.  And the party that went with it.

When it happened . . .

The one wherein the writers remember the continuity of previous episodes

The Captain of my ELINT boat once walked with me into the big university library on Persephone.  IAV Saule Silencieuse was in port for refueling and supplies and he'd asked me to join him there to "show me something."

When we reached the balcony overlook on the third floor of the cavernous seven level building, he paused and asked "What do you see around you, Colonel?"

The library was one of the largest hard-copy repositories in the 'Verse.  Row upon row of physical books, backed by an even vaster repository of stored information in the data-stores in the well protected basement. Not to mention the 'antiques' collection that dated back to Earth that Was, kept in an environmentally controlled vault that was even more secure than the data-store.

"Books, Captain.  I see books.  Many, many, thousands of them."

He looked at me thoughtfully a moment, then smiled faintly and looked back out over the sea of books before going on in his soft, ever-so-formal, voice - "Yes.  Books.  Fiction.  Fact.  History.  Fantasy.  Over two thousand years of Human literature.  In these racks you could find the perfect quote to describe every situation.  Would you not agree, Colonel?"

I had to wonder where he was going, but I nodded.  He was right.

"Now, my Colonel, I present a situation: A Tiger has proposed marriage to a Dragon.  The Dragon has not yet decided whether to accept, but somewhere on these shelves is the perfect quote to describe what she feels at the proposition.  My challenge to you now is to find that quote."

I looked at him for a long moment, then laughed softly at the obvious reference to my situation with Simon.  "I could find a quote easily, I'm sure.  But the perfect one?  I don't know.  I'm not sure I'd know where to start."

"Yes," he replied quietly, matter of factly.  "This what we have created, Colonel.  Your network.  My ship.  The knowledge we have gathered is like this library.  Vast.  Deep.  A growing collection of facts and information.  But there is more in it than any of us can possibly digest.  The analysts and Expert Systems can dive into the depths of the sea of knowledge we are filling, but it is growing increasingly difficult to find that one perfect quote.  If you will excuse the metaphor, Colonel."

"I know, Captain.  I know.  But unlike looking for the perfect quote, I know what I am looking for in this sea we're filling, and I know how to follow the threads when I come across them.  I appreciate the metaphor though, and your point.  And . . . thank you, Hawke.  I appreciate the sentiment."  He nodded curtly after a brief pause, then motioned towards the art gallery, continuing the 'tour'.

Whether we were actually 'friends' was hard to judge.  Since taking command of Saule Silencieuse, Captain Hawke had proven to be a reliable and superbly competent commander.  We hadn't grown exactly close, but we had grown to trust one another professionally.  His little tour of the library here was a gentle reminder of the scope of information we'd gathered and an unspoken question as to whether I still had sight of my goals in that vast sea.

I did.  He even knew what I was looking for out there.  What I was watching.  Who I was watching, and why.  But as the ocean got broader and deeper, it was becoming more difficult to keep sight of my targets.

Which all came back to me when one of my 'targets' came home - with three beautifully crafted wedding gowns, each in a different style, but all quite flattering and perfectly cut for my rather petite size.  After far too long away, again, Simon had decided to come home.

I'd known what he was up to.  At least superficially.  I knew what all the people I cared about were up to, even if only with the vaguest details.  I didn't want to pry into their lives, mostly anyway, but I cared about them.  Which meant knowing enough about their situations to assist if they needed it.  Sometimes, with Buddha's grace, before they knew they needed it.

Simon had been keeping more direct tabs on my girls than I had.  Where I'd been sifting through the vast data streams to see what they were doing, he'd had boots on the ground.  More detail, at the expense of less scope.  Something I couldn't fault him for.  But he'd come home, bringing the gowns and a serious discussion about our actually following through with the statement he'd made at that town hall meeting what seemed like an age ago.

Our 'real world' concerns, about the girls and everything else our lives as Spooks brought us into contact with, were often all-consuming.  The interactions between various factions at individual levels, or regional, or even planetary, scaling up to grand "issues" - like the nearly inevitable conflict coming between organic and artificial life.

That was what kept me awake at night.  What gave me nightmares when I slept.  I'd seen the first inklings of it when I'd recognized Krenshar as a fully sentient artificial system.  It had only grown with Blue, and when Imrhien and the secret society she'd been associated with brought to light the von Neumann machines under Hale's and Blackburne.  Weaponized versions of a peaceful project, but now fully AI and unequivocally hostile to Organic life.

Simon knew about all of that, even though his focus was on more personal matters.  A level of focus I'd let slip in the fast flow of data that had come to surround me.  I knew what he was tracking, but I wasn't involved beyond watching from the darkness.

That would change.  It would have to.

But the greater surprise was Simon finally asking me to share his bed.  It was sincere and seemed to be something he was right needful of. While he promised nothing "improper" would happen, I was actually happy he'd finally come around to at least that.  Even if it was just to cuddle for a night - I could live with 'nothing improper.'  At least once.  It had been a silent sticking point all along.  I knew he'd been very proper about such things, where I was anything but.  Hell, there were still pictures of Immy and me together on the dance pole at the old Fook Yoo's in circulation.  To me sex was something to be done for fun, as well as intimacy and bonding and everything else.  But fun was the starting point, and until I knew whether he was any good in bed, or at least could be taught to be good in bed, well. . . I doubted he'd be comfortable with me spending nights with my favored Companion after we were married.  At least if the marriage was for anything but our covers.

I'd been waiting though.  Even if nothing more than some extensive cuddling happened the first night, it was what I'd been waiting for.  One thing, at least.  When, exactly, it led to more, was another question.  But at least we'd taken that step.

Bodies sharing warmth
A bed far too big for one
About freaking time

Watcher in the darkness

What have I become?

Since Simon publicly announced at a Town Council meeting that we were getting married, I've found myself retreated from public life.  So many changes on the colony surface, and in the social structure, that I barely recognize it even as I watch the world change outside.  And Simon . . . dear Simon.  I would ask "where have you gone?" but I know where you've gone, even if you don't think I do, or can. I know.  I see, sometimes, more than I want to see.  But hint: If you want to marry me, you have to actually be around enough for me to accept it'll be the right thing.  I think though he knew as well as I that a couple of Spooks will never have a normal life.  Let alone a normal life together.

The network, my network, continues to grow.  The information comes, is parsed, analyzed, sorted, prioritized, then, sometimes, sold, to pay for the growth of the network.  There is more coming in than I can ever absorb myself.  I know that.  I don't even try.  That's what my analysts are for.  To pare it down into digestible pieces so I can see into the workings of the 'Verse.  Only one or two of my team know, even suspect, really, why I am doing what I'm doing.  Blue knows.  He sees it all.  I'm sure he comprehends it all in the totality as well, even if he won't share his insights.

I trust him.  Oddly.  Perhaps I have no choice but to trust him.  But I do.  He's withheld information, or spoken in riddles, but he's never lied to me.  He's never hurt me, or anyone I've cared for.  He is a friend, even if "he" is an arbitrary pronoun for a being that has no gender, or physical form, and exists entirely in a digital space.

I believe I am on the right course.  If I am right . . .

If I am right, and this is not all some grandiose fantasy, I am gently nudging us onto a course that assures our ultimate survival.  It won't be an easy journey, or a short one, but it means that everything we have become will continue into a long, long, future.

If I am wrong?  There are myriad ways I can be wrong, starting with the initial premise.  If I have that wrong, then the reason behind everything I am doing is for naught.  The immediate outcome will be beneficial but the long term goal will be irrelevant.  There are countless ways, even if I'm right, to screw this up: from simple failure, to being too short sighted, to being stymied by someone with opposing goals.

What of my girls?  I watch them.  I try and guide and support where I can, but I think I've failed as a mother.  Or even as a mother figure.  Maybe Haley considers me a good "mother," or at least a good Human.  But Beagles are easy to please and she's orders of magnitude easier to be a mother to than my girls.

I don't know how they will turn out.  How any of this will turn out.  The scope is longer than a human lifetime.  Linger than several human lifetimes.  I won't live long enough to see it come to fruition, or even to see what my girls become - Buddha willing - but I know there is a reason I do what I do.

Watching.

Alone.

From the darkness.

Watcher in the dark
Cling to a sense of purpose
Hoping I am right

The long flight home

My Matagi, Wave Equation, could make the run from Hale's Moon, well, Dragon's Egg, now, to Ariel in around two days.  That was assuming average orbital distances and running at maximum efficient cruise.  I could do it faster, but the extra fuel burn wasn't really worth it.  Depending on how you set your course and whether you punched in a mid-trip burn, you could do it in a 'Fly in less then a week.

We weren't setting any records for speed on this trip.

Simon had plotted several stops along with way, ostensibly to pick up fresh food and supplies and give Meddie a chance to stretch her legs and see the surface on a few of the worlds along the route.   The real reason was to give us more time together to get to actually know each other.  Near as I could tell, his mind had been long made up.  He wouldn't have braved talking to Grandfather if he wasn't serious.  Thing was, I still had misgivings.

When I'd fallen for Caitlin I was, admittedly, young and naive and a bit sexually repressed.  Ok.  More than a bit.  She'd opened my eyes, so to speak, to things I'd barely imagined.  When she was killed by an Indie raid the emotional trauma was etched into my being.  It left me cold.  Ice Queen hadn't been a bad code for me back then.  I'd enjoyed physical comfort, but love wasn't something I thought I would, or would even want to, find.

Imrhien changed that.  I'd fallen in love with her, and couldn't have her, and it hurt.  The kind of pain the old Master's would say was good.  If you can feel pain, you know you're alive.  And somehow, through her, Sabrina and I found each other.  We'd come from wildly different worlds but we'd been a good couple.  Good living together.  Good in bed.  Supportive.

While it lasted.

We'd seen the breakup coming long before it happened, but it hadn't made it any easier.  Maybe it had been a mistake in the first place.  Our worlds had been very, very, far apart.  Not just our backgrounds, but even our professional and political lives.  Empathizing with the Independent cause didn't make me a Browncoat.  Having friends high in the movement, even today, didn't change the fact that during the War I'd been what I was.  "Special Asset: Tactical."  There was a lot of blood on my hands and most of it wasn't Reaver.

Simon was . . . different.  I'd had male lovers over the years.  That wasn't the issue.  Never considered marrying one, but that wasn't the issue either.  The issue was I wasn't in love with him.  I liked him, sure.  But I hadn't felt that spark.  Either of them, actually.  The one that made you smile when you remembered who you were going home to, and the other one you felt when you remembered what you'd be doing after you got home.

Not that I couldn't.  Simon was attractive enough, and a good man since we'd been travelling together.  Fact was, we knew each other's backgrounds and that was a blessing of sorts.  And a curse.  With another spook, you never quite knew whether what you perceived in their behavior was real or part of a cover.  That we'd talked about being a couple to the outside world to further our covers didn't help.  That he hadn't taken me to bed didn't help either.  Or maybe it did, on some level.  Unless he was Sly.  Not that I thought he was, but it would explain him not taking me to bed.

Just wasn't sure this flight would be enough time to fall in love with someone.  Not that I actually needed to be in love with him to go through with a wedding.  Wouldn't even be breaking with tradition, seeing how a lot of weddings were still arranged and made as much out of obligation as anything else.  Some of them even turned into real, loving, successful marriages.  Just never thought I'd be in a position to have to make that sort of a choice.

Point of decision
Marry for love or honor
Perhaps not at all?

The one wherin the social situation becomes rather more complicated

I was never quite sure whether Simon actually fancied me, or if his wanting to initiate a relationship was part of a very elaborate cover we could both use to professional advantage.  He'd said as much once, early on, before he built the farmhouse and I moved in after KHI redeployed the orbital.  Our relationship could be just for show, since it would make things a bit easier for our respective covers if we appeared hitched.  But he'd also said he loved me.  But now?  Now I wasn't sure what to think.

After being on an Op for way too long.  After dropping so far off the grid that even his network didn't know where he was, and I knew, since I'd jacked it.  After an orphan girl shows up on my doorstep at Lily's suggestion.  After all that, he comes back.  Not just back, but back with news I'm not entirely sure I'm comfortable with.

I knew Sabrina and I would end up with an actual divorce.  Wasn't really wanting it, but it was what it was.  She'd left.  I'd let her.  Not an acrimonious ending, but an ending nonetheless.  I'd held on to the marriage on the off chance she'd come back.  And, if she didn't, I could still say I was married as a way to keep potential suitors at bay.  Not that I had any.  'Cept Simon.  Wasn't like I was alone every night either.  A Registered Companion can work wonders for a mood, as can a friend with benefits.  Was part of the understanding.  Someone keeping the bed warm when the one you love is half way across the 34 Tauri system doesn't mean you don't love them.  Just means you need a little warmth.

What I hadn't expected was Simon to come back to Dragon's Egg with papers from a court way to high to be dealing with divorce settlements, declaring it done and over.  All I had to do was confirm and sign.  More then that, he had a fancy engagement ring with him and said he'd spoken to my folks to get their approval before he proposed for real.  How he'd pulled that off, I wasn't sure.  Even if he'd slipped through my net, Mother would have sent me a wave to tell me he'd come.  If not, Father certainly would have.  Just the thrill of a man taking interest in me would be enough for that.  And Grandfather?  Simon had connections at least as far up the food chain as mine, which would get him an audience with Grandfather.  But him not sending a wave?

Something didn't seem quite right in the whole situation.  But I'd figure that out.  While I hadn't agreed to marry him, at least not yet, I'd at least agreed to make the flight back to Ariel to see my folks.  Bit of a vacation.  Sort of.  Officially, I had Leave coming and, somehow, Simon'd gotten Tag to authorize me taking an extended leave.  Thing was, my other role wasn't really something I could step away from for any length of time.  The network was still too tenuous, too fragile, for me to just leave it be.  Yes, I had competent people in place.  But that didn't mean my rapidly budding network could run itself.

There would be a lot to work out.  Wasn't sure I was ready to get hitched.  Not so soon after ending it with 'Brina.  Not even sure I want to be married to a man, though it'd make Father happy.  Much as I love him, chances of me giving him the grandson he wants is pretty slim.  Not sure I'm willing to marry someone who hasn't taken me to bed.  Tradition or not, there's something to be said for knowing what you're getting in to.  Or what's getting in to you, as the case may be.  A lot of traditions in the 'Verse, and mucha s he's said he doesn't want to change me I can't see getting hitched before you know if you're compatible in bed.  Wouldn't be such an issue if 'no sex afore weddin'' didn't usually come with 'you're expected to not be beddin' anyone else.'  May not be an issue, but it was something 'Brina and I'd worked out.  Not going to be there to keep the bed warm, it's ok to have someone keep the bed warm.  Just so long as you didn't get anything you didn't intend to keep, and it was just a beddin.

We'd have time on the flight though.  Why he'd picked an old 'Fly for the trip I didn't know, but we'd have time to sort things out.

Maybe.

Orphan

I've never been big on failure.  An overdeveloped drive towards success has been ingrained into me since childhood.  I can blame some of it on my family clinging to parts of traditional Japanese culture that go back centuries before the Exodus, and some of it on my own deep seated desire to live up to my Grandfather's expectations.  An individual failure was acceptable if, and only if, one was to face that failure and overcome it.  Failure was an option under some circumstances.  Giving up was not.

As a Soldier and Spook I had been successful.  At least within the definitions of success for the roles I filled.  I'd even managed to succeed in managing a small mining colony as their Mayor.  Again, within the bounds set by the role.   Conditions on Hale's Moon had improved while I was their Mayor, even if everyone hadn't been happy with all of my decisions.  That was to be expected too.  It was hard to please everyone, but the job hadn't been to keep everyone happy, but to try and keep them alive and maybe bring a little prosperity to an arid little rock in the middle of nowhere.

The only part of my life I look at and see failures is in personal relationships.  Losing Caitlin, longer ago than I care to remember now, was the first.  I'd had to create a new small alter here on Dragon's Egg at the anniversary since the one on Hale's was, well, gone.  I'd tried infrequently since and thought I'd finally found it with Sabrina.  But that didn't work either.  Even Simon had gone off on a mission and then just dropped off the face of the 'Verse.

All that had worked was the girls.  Sort of.  My adopted daughters were a whole different sort of relationship.  But had that even worked?  Lily and AuroraBlue were my girls, but ultimately I didn't seem to have much sway in their lives.  An anchor, maybe.  One person in the whole 'Verse who didn't want to study them or use them for their own agenda.  I just wanted them to be happy and safe and give them some genuine love, and I'm not sure I succeeded on anything but the love part.

Though, now, a new factor was being inserted into the equation.

She goes by Medusa, though I don't rightly know why she'd have that particular mythical namesake.  An Orphan who'd somehow gotten caught up with the Companion's Guild, Svetlana and her crew, and then crossed paths with Lily.  She was desperate for a real home and a mother figure to provide guidance and Lily thought I'd be just the one.

I knew there were reasons Svetlana couldn't take her on as an actual 'mother' figure, but there was a real question as to whether I would be suitable either.  There were a lot of factors in my life that were . . . hidden.  Not just my work.  But some of my relationships.  None of them appropriate for a youngun, not that I couldn't keep them hidden as I had.  There would just be this undercurrent of secrecy that she would pick up on and either probe or just learn to deal with.

But, for now, I'd play the Foster Mother role the 'Verse has dropped in my lap.  She may stay on a while.  She may go back with Svetlana and her crew, or she may go off with Genni Foxtrot and her brood.  Regardless,  I'd take her in for now.  There was a finite possibility that she was a plant to get through to my network, but I was already working back down that angle.  Taken at face value, she was a youngun in need.  Before Hale's I'd have shrugged and moved on.  Not my issue.  Now, for better or worse, I'd do what I could.

Thinking in the long term

My original degree was in applied technology, though, oddly, my Master's Thesis project was an Expert System I called Nora.  Nora grew out of the relatively primitive Expert System I'd been toying with all though my college experience.  It was the only way I'd been able to keep up with everything at school and still do my ROT and competitive martial arts.  I'd never asked x0x0, but I suspect Blue Man had a similar evolution.  Only, where Nora was a reasonably well tuned Expert System that was well suited to my specific needs, Blue had grown to be one of the most advanced, if not the most advanced, AIs in the known 'Verse.

My recent "change of mission," such as it was, had me thinking more about technologies that wouldn't just make the job easier, but would make it possible at all.  I'd put a fair bit of time recently into re-tuning Nora to deal with the sheer flood of data that was coming in.  IAV Saules Silencieuse was massively capable, but even the dedicated ELINT boat lacked the capacity to process everything we were getting.  I'd been working on that issue, adding capacity for both data warehousing and data processing, but it was clear that simply collecting every tidbit of raw data in the Verse wasn't the answer.  After all, it only took half an hour randomly parsing Cortex feeds to realize that the vast majority of it was der'mo in its purest form.

There were several approaches I could take to getting the interesting data out of the raw flood.  The first, improving my parsing capability, I was already working on.  Expert systems backed by some skilled analysts could handle a good chunk of that.  But that was ultimately a scaling game.  There was always a bigger pipe.  The more the network grew, the more raw data we had coming in and it wasn't a linear scale.  The second option, which I was also working on, was improved HumInt.  Human Intelligence.  Boots on the ground.  Classic Spycraft.  The problem with having field agents was the logistics of having field agents.  We were growing, but we were still too small an operation to have many field assets.  While I could, and did, tap into a lot of the existing sources for Intel, they weren't specific to my needs.  Though, in truth, my "needs" were still somewhat open ended.  After all.  An information broker could never tell exactly what tidbit of information was going to be important at some point.

And therein lay the rub.  There was simply too much information to gather it all, which meant focusing in on the important bits more efficiently than just throwing it all at an AI or Expert System and expecting them to sort it all out.  Which ultimately lead to the next option.  The most exotic, least predictable, least practical, and hardest to implement.  Finding a way to get a Reader in the loop.  Someone who could look past the raw information to the truth of the problem.

I'd worked with Readers.  They were rare, precious, temperamental, and often only marginally stable.  I'd seen more than one project under Alliance control that sought to manipulate a Reader to make them more suitable for covert, overt, or other, operations.  And, in each case, the project had failed, usually with disastrous consequences.  The hurdles with any sort of wetware project were substantial.  Not just from technical perspectives, but from moral and ethical ones as well.  Those last two factors were oft overlooked by the kind of folks who usually started those sorts of endeavors.

The difficulties didn't make the idea any less valid though.  If a Reader really could see through to the Truth of a situation, then it made logical sense to find a way to employ their abilities.  But I could not, and would not, lose site of that carefully chosen word.  Employ.  Not use.  A Reader couldn't be treated like a normal Asset.  They couldn't be handled like a resource that was expendable if needed, just weighing the cost benefit ratios between using them or losing them.

I couldn't deny there was a lot of blood on my hands from my years as a Spook, but I would do what I could to try and not add to it.  This whole direction, ultimately, was an effort to get a little less blood on the collective hands of the 'Verse.  If I actually pursued this beyond the thought experiment stage, I would make absolutely sure that any Readers I worked with were treated like people.  They were people.  Not Assets.

For now, it was all just a thought experiment.  It would be a long term project if it turned out to be doable at all.  But, then, all of this was long term.

Sifting through data
Too much for a human mind
Can anyone cope?

Dilemma

On Earth that Was, during the second stage of the 20th century's "Great World Conflict," cryptography and communications took huge leaps forward.  One of the consequences of those leaps, especially where decryption was concerned, were occasions where leaders would have to ignore specific intel so as not to alert their enemies that their codes had been broken.  The end result: civilian deaths because they weren't warned there were bombers on the way to paste the city they lived in.

It was a terrible position to be in and there have been numerous instances since of a leader deciding to sacrifice a target so as not to compromise an intelligence asset.  It's not an easy decision to make, for various reasons.  The ethical concerns are obvious.  Unless you're a bit of a sociopath, sacrificing a civilian target is never a decision to take lightly.  Even if you are a sociopath, there's the issue of people eventually finding out that you were willing to let them die so as not to compromise your intel sources.

I'd been following my adopted daughter's antics and activities for some time.  I'd be doing it even if I wasn't a spook.  I'm her mother after all, and she has a unique ability to find all sorts of very special trouble.  Follow her had led me to keeping track of events on Al Raquis and events involving the Myrmidon Order - a quasi religious cross between a Monastic order and a conventional PMC ^*.

Lily had become quite impressed with one of the order and he'd welcomed her to come train with them and learn their ways.  Somehow, he'd been some sort of impulse for K2, which, I admit, I didn't pretend to understand.  Be that as it was, I'd reluctantly told Lily that it was OK and tried to get it across to Krakken, the Myrmidon, that I expected him to treat my little girl with the respect and care she deserved.

Not unexpectedly, that didn't happen.

She'd come back home, vowing never to go back to the Myrmidon.  Which I was good with.  What I wasn't entirely good with was the information she brought back with her.  During my time monitoring, I'd found it more than a little difficult to get good Intel out of the Order and on the Order.  What Lily brought with her was intel that they were planning to, at some time in the near future, invade Al Raquis.

That was entirely unexpected information, and, to be sure, it didn't make a lot of sense.  My first instinct, after resisting the urge to laugh at the thought of a PMC, even a well organized and equipped one, attacking a well established colony, was to pass the information on the some local contacts on Al Raquis so the local military could be prepared for what was coming.  Only Lily didn't want me to do it.

It left me in an awkward position.  On several levels I wanted to test my network and see whether I could actually use it to make a difference.  I hadn't chosen to become an information broker to be rich.  I already had all the monetary resources I could need and then some.  No.  I'd done it because, ultimately, it was how I thought I could do the most good for the most people.

On a lot of levels I know the idea was flawed.  It was very difficult to know, in my heart, what really was the best use for my information.  What really was best for the thirty six plus billion people living in the 34 Tauri system?

Regardless, Lily's asked me not to intervene.  Why I didn't know.  But I agreed.  For better or worse, I wouldn't warn the military on Al Raquis that an attack might be imminent.  There were other things I could, and would, do if the situation escalated.  But, for now, at my little girl's behest, I would let things happen as they would.

For better or worse
Warnings remain unspoken
My conscience heavy


* Author's note:  I know the Myrmidon Order doesn't see themselves that way in the Dune campaign and other locations where they exist.  However, this blog is strictly from the perspective of a player in the Firefly 'Verse.  Hence, the adaptation to fit within the Canon of firefly. Here's a good starting point.

Signal, ever so faint

I got a wave today from out of the blue.  Well, out of the Black, really.  While I'm still trying to figure out exactly what it means, I am quite sure of the source.  AuroraBlue.  The Tiny Dragon.  My littlest girl.  The message, such as it was, was little more than a series of faint clicks, but the pattern was familiar.  Not unlike Lily's, though the signature was quite distinctly not Lily's.

Tiny Dragon didn't reach out to me often and I had to wonder what prompted the message.  Was she in trouble of some kind on Al Raquis?  Possible, but my information network there hadn't reported anything overly concerning.  Not that it couldn't get past me.  My information nets, while growing tighter, were still growing and I was still learning to properly parse the huge amount of data that was coming in.

Did she know about Sabrina?  The message I'd received?  That I was, again, the Lonesome Ninja?  Entirely possible.  A large part of her genetics had been carefully engineered for a specific purpose.  While the exact purpose was still, annoyingly, unknown, it wouldn't surprise me to find that a touch of the Reader gene was in there somewhere.  Genes, really.  Plus structural changes and who, really, knew what else.  It was possible she knew at an intuitive level that I was alone again and was reaching out to give some small token of comfort.  It was also entirely possible that, assuming 'Brina's departure was the reason, she knew by entirely mundane means.  More likely, really, given her intimate association with the Blue Man AI.

For all I knew, the message could be nothing more than "The weather is beautiful, wish you were here."  But somehow that seemed a little too mundane.  The fact that she's sent an audible message was significant in of itself.

The logical step from here was to check with my contacts on Al Raquis directly then, if they had nothing, go there myself to see how Tiny Dragon was doing.  While I was following the developments with Lily and K2 and AuroraBlue, I'd been very hands off of late.  Perhaps it was time to change that, though my interventions in the past never seemed to do much.  Of course, it was hard to see any effect my actions would have in their situations.  I was too close to it in time and space.

I also wasn't prescient.

Though . . . was anyone?

I'd give it another day or so to check with my local contacts and see if I could figure out why AuroraBlue had contacted me.  If not, or if she didn't contact me again herself, I'd go to her.  Even if it turned out to be nothing more than a sympathy call, it would be good to see her again.

Tiny Dragon calls
A faint voice, unexpected
Welcome distraction

The one wherein a Dragon cries

On some level I am not surprised.  When Sabrina took Elsoph up on his offer to come play in an R&D lab of her own, I'd had a gut feeling that she'd get wrapped up in being able to pursue her technical dreams.  We'd stayed in touch, seeing each other, or speaking over a Cortex link, as often as we could, but on some level I knew the distance was a problem.

I hadn't realized how deeply she'd feel the loss of Hale's Moon, but I should have.  She'd lost a home on Blackburne when the Reavers had overrun the downport.  Even though she was living with me on Hale's by then, she'd felt the loss as had all the others who'd called that place home.  The move to Dragon's Egg was even less comfortable for her than it was for me.  Probably why she accepted the position back on the Orbital, then gone with it when Corporate made the decision to move it.  We'd both called the Orbital home for a time, living on the boat docked in the lower hangar.

Now, she'd chosen to walk away.  Not that I really blamed her.  I even understood why she'd left me a Haiku to say good bye rather than having the a talk that would have been more painful for both of us.

Time has changed us much
I no longer have a home
Into the sunset

Part of me wanted to track her down and have the talk we should have had, while the rest of me knew and understood her reasoning.  I had to remember that old saying: "If you love someone set them free.  If they love you too, they will return."  The thing was the variations in how that old saying ended.  The classical "If they don't return, it was not meant to be."  Or the more irreverent "If they do not return, hunt them down and kill them."

Most people who knew me would expect me to follow the latter interpretation of that saying, but I wouldn't.  I loved 'Brina.  I always will.  But if our marriage wasn't meant to be, I'm willing to let go of it.  I won't be happy to let go of it.  But I am willing.

I just wonder if I'll be able to stay on Dragon's Egg myself.  Lily and AuroraBlue have both been very mobile, but spending far more time on Al Raquis than on Dragon's Egg - a world I have extensive contacts on, but don't feel comfortable on myself.  Simon's been away for weeks without even a SitRep to let me know his mission status, and the colony doesn't actually need me for anything.  I have the house, of course, but other than Haley it's empty.

But that means Haley is the only one who can see the Dragon cry.

Inevitable. 
Time and distance came between.
A hard driven wedge


I will not cast blame
Saying goodbye to my love
Even Dragons cry