“The Peace and the Stars; The old piece of music from Sol sang about the Peace and the Stars. The folks in OPA used to joke about The Run as if that’s all it were to us KNs, an excuse to take a long vacation, rest and relaxation, distance from our work’s vexations- the Peace and the Stars. Then one of their own lost one; then another; and then another- and it stopped being funny to them. Just a night-terror to tell their trainees- no moral to the story, no starts, no gimmicks: the sheer terror of an inevitability resulting from their poor decisions.
What the OPA never understood was that the fear, the terror, never mattered to us. We’d seen and committed to death as our way of life. Without the inevitability of our death as our intellectual constant, we could never choose to live; without the knowledge that we would probably die, most of the time, we would just be alive- and what’s the use in that?”
- Urban Lissenshisniss III, Ordo Mandati Fratribus. Deceased.
As I slowly continued down the long path of stars our organization has long called The Run, I began to notice things about the planets and bodies that I hadn’t before noticed. I began to think that, maybe, The Run was simply designed for us to come to understand these kinds of things. Maybe The Run was simply just a way for us to finalize our commitment to the organization. The Ions always made it into some kind of tragedy: young PFR trainees lost for to the ages; Ordo Mandati Fratribus Fraters and Sorors lost to one another. Red Line after Red Line; Black tie after Black tie; story after story. Now, as I continue on my own Realignment, star after star, planet after planet. They’re all relatively the same. They might be big, they might be small, blue or white, pink or brown. But they’re generally spherical and they can be mapped by the the Pilot’s Federation/Universal Cartographics mapping technology. Some have had biological or geological signals that led to potential material stores. Some have had distress signals that led to stores of cargo, escape pods, occupied or otherwise, and detritus that was once something that carried people like me to and from their destinations. But they’re all relatively the same and I’ve found it increasingly hard to distinguish them from one another.
I could conduct a full detailed surface scan and immediately hunker down for the night before opening my eyes to the same planet and not know at all whether or not I’ve ever laid eyes on it prior to that very moment. Were it not for my ship’s computer system I might not be able to distinguish one from another at all. When I started on The Run, I’d took note of the names of the systems, hoping to find some meaning or system of categorization that I might make useful in keeping focused and keeping myself and my companion from ending up another story told by one of The Ions. It didn’t seem fair to Orion. But, after nearly two-hundred surface years, which have still felt like little more than a couple of months to me, all differences ceased in importance. The only thing that mattered was that I continue on to the end of my Realignment. I remember a tale told by one of the Ions, before I’d laid eyes on Orion, even,
“It soon made sense to my trainee- his purpose was clear and he insisted I hear his message: ‘I now know that the Wisdom of The Office speaks the only truth of our common creed. I have completed Realignment.’ He subsequently loaded his Anaconda with cargo found along the way and descended to the surface of 2MASS J03291865+3120178 1A, engaging his vessel’s silent running, and his signal was located by The Office shortly thereafter, NOSCOMPROTOCOL CESSAVIT.”
The Ion slowly walked from the dais, his eyes meeting no one- none following, before another Ion stepped to the front of the stage. It followed like that, Ion after Ion, training level after training level. Until Dad called me into PFR training to train with Cadence, Callie, and Clara- to work with he and Cadence- and now with Orion, whom I’d sworn I’d known in my earlier life as a trainee. Dad had probably long past, Orion and Cadence gone maybe 50 years by now. I’d removed the monitoring software and sensor hardware from Keystone after a quick calculation told me that they had probably been replaced by a younger crew with a fresher set of eyes and nerves- I figured I’d let them adjust to me when I returned to the fold. It bothered me that Orion wouldn’t be granted honors for successful guidance of a Realignee before the end of his life. But it bothered me more to think that he wouldn’t be honored at all. I’d tried speaking to my confidante further, to see if my progress through the final phase of Realignment had been sufficient, and he spoke with little fanfare,
“Your journey is far from over. When you return to the waiting embrace of Novus Ordo Siderum, many will have passed, Cadence and Carl included.”
He then turned to his children to chide them for clinging too closely to him. His grandchildren had begun to grow increasingly rambunctious as well, in their container. I’d found a way to modify an old cargo rack retrieved from a crash site to fit he and his growing family of descendants, none of whom spoke to me but all of whom chose to remain close, absorbing the wisdom of their grandfather. He’d often remind me, as I lay in rest for the night, that under no uncertain terms would the belief in my successful Realignment be the constant threat.
“Your Realignment is complete when, and only when, you alight from the final planet orbiting the final star in the final system on The Run. No other goal in your life has been more important than this one. Not maintaining your relationship with Carl, Cadence, or Orion- not leading your team to victory- not anything. Your ascent toward the stars watching that final planet. That and only that.”
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What the OPA never understood was that the fear, the terror, never mattered to us. We’d seen and committed to death as our way of life. Without the inevitability of our death as our intellectual constant, we could never choose to live; without the knowledge that we would probably die, most of the time, we would just be alive- and what’s the use in that?”
- Urban Lissenshisniss III, Ordo Mandati Fratribus. Deceased.
As I slowly continued down the long path of stars our organization has long called The Run, I began to notice things about the planets and bodies that I hadn’t before noticed. I began to think that, maybe, The Run was simply designed for us to come to understand these kinds of things. Maybe The Run was simply just a way for us to finalize our commitment to the organization. The Ions always made it into some kind of tragedy: young PFR trainees lost for to the ages; Ordo Mandati Fratribus Fraters and Sorors lost to one another. Red Line after Red Line; Black tie after Black tie; story after story. Now, as I continue on my own Realignment, star after star, planet after planet. They’re all relatively the same. They might be big, they might be small, blue or white, pink or brown. But they’re generally spherical and they can be mapped by the the Pilot’s Federation/Universal Cartographics mapping technology. Some have had biological or geological signals that led to potential material stores. Some have had distress signals that led to stores of cargo, escape pods, occupied or otherwise, and detritus that was once something that carried people like me to and from their destinations. But they’re all relatively the same and I’ve found it increasingly hard to distinguish them from one another.
I could conduct a full detailed surface scan and immediately hunker down for the night before opening my eyes to the same planet and not know at all whether or not I’ve ever laid eyes on it prior to that very moment. Were it not for my ship’s computer system I might not be able to distinguish one from another at all. When I started on The Run, I’d took note of the names of the systems, hoping to find some meaning or system of categorization that I might make useful in keeping focused and keeping myself and my companion from ending up another story told by one of The Ions. It didn’t seem fair to Orion. But, after nearly two-hundred surface years, which have still felt like little more than a couple of months to me, all differences ceased in importance. The only thing that mattered was that I continue on to the end of my Realignment. I remember a tale told by one of the Ions, before I’d laid eyes on Orion, even,
“It soon made sense to my trainee- his purpose was clear and he insisted I hear his message: ‘I now know that the Wisdom of The Office speaks the only truth of our common creed. I have completed Realignment.’ He subsequently loaded his Anaconda with cargo found along the way and descended to the surface of 2MASS J03291865+3120178 1A, engaging his vessel’s silent running, and his signal was located by The Office shortly thereafter, NOSCOMPROTOCOL CESSAVIT.”
The Ion slowly walked from the dais, his eyes meeting no one- none following, before another Ion stepped to the front of the stage. It followed like that, Ion after Ion, training level after training level. Until Dad called me into PFR training to train with Cadence, Callie, and Clara- to work with he and Cadence- and now with Orion, whom I’d sworn I’d known in my earlier life as a trainee. Dad had probably long past, Orion and Cadence gone maybe 50 years by now. I’d removed the monitoring software and sensor hardware from Keystone after a quick calculation told me that they had probably been replaced by a younger crew with a fresher set of eyes and nerves- I figured I’d let them adjust to me when I returned to the fold. It bothered me that Orion wouldn’t be granted honors for successful guidance of a Realignee before the end of his life. But it bothered me more to think that he wouldn’t be honored at all. I’d tried speaking to my confidante further, to see if my progress through the final phase of Realignment had been sufficient, and he spoke with little fanfare,
“Your journey is far from over. When you return to the waiting embrace of Novus Ordo Siderum, many will have passed, Cadence and Carl included.”
He then turned to his children to chide them for clinging too closely to him. His grandchildren had begun to grow increasingly rambunctious as well, in their container. I’d found a way to modify an old cargo rack retrieved from a crash site to fit he and his growing family of descendants, none of whom spoke to me but all of whom chose to remain close, absorbing the wisdom of their grandfather. He’d often remind me, as I lay in rest for the night, that under no uncertain terms would the belief in my successful Realignment be the constant threat.
“Your Realignment is complete when, and only when, you alight from the final planet orbiting the final star in the final system on The Run. No other goal in your life has been more important than this one. Not maintaining your relationship with Carl, Cadence, or Orion- not leading your team to victory- not anything. Your ascent toward the stars watching that final planet. That and only that.”
CMDR Half-Lock (PC/Mac) - logbook entry [INARA]
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