|
| Subject: | stuff |
| Time: | 9:38 pm. |
| Mood: |  blah. | | Music: | joh mellencamp - peaceful world. |
|
I've decided to make this my real journal and not my character's because that was a stupid idea, and my other journal was annoying. Don't know why, just was. I wasn't a fan of the x_ thing before and after my name. So now it's just Zialana! yay. now to get all my old friends to come switch.
Not much else to say. My life is becoming rather boring. Hope I didn't curse myself to woe and misery.
Funny that two of my dragonrider candidates hatched on the same day, and then the next day I got my pixel ponies. Cyberpet thingies are fun.
I have no life.
|
|
Comments: Read 2 or Add Your Own.
|
|
Tuesday, February 10th, 2004
|
|
|
Please note we skip a lot of stuff. If I had meant to not confuse you I would have not posted this at all.
--
Alizon put his hand on my shoulder, and I smiled, trying hard not to respond -- it was hard, one way or another. Especially since I had no idea what my feelings were. But he had made _his_ feelings perfectly clear, and those just confused me more.
Was I only trying to keep up a relationship with Zorin because I thought it was right? I sighed, my bad shoulder still aching from the impact of the abrupt transition out of hyperspace -- medicine in 6326 wasn't quite what it was in 6369, and I was still a little achey, if mostly healed. Zorin was hansome and smart and fun to be around (not to mention the son of a Kyrizzian lord), and my relationship with him just made sense. A relationship with an Aryah runaway certainly did not. But making sense or not seemed to have very little to do with whether or not it was right.
"Let's take a walk. Let's go to Skydome Gardens. Let's go to a movie. Let's do _something_ besides _homework_."
I laughed as I stared at the hardcopy Tactics and Strategy book. I wanted to do something else too, but I had to resist. "Do you want to go to the Zoorti Nebula or do you not?" I asked, and he grudgingly sighed, and said "All right, do you understand #24?"
Before we could work on number 24, however, the door slid open, and Zavanir came in. "You won't believe this," he said, "But we found another one."
--
Five minutes later, we were suited up and standing outside the brand new Ka'nahir landing crater, looking at a bat-like Aryah fighter identical to the one we had arrived in.
"Came out of hyperspace not ten light seconds from Tsarvia. _Tsarvia_, for the sake of AraNara! It's a damned miricle we got to it before _they_ did," Zaldor said as we entered the airlock.
And there, looking more than a little confused by his surroundings, was Zanthar.
"Zanthar!" I said. "You're alive!"
"Last I checked," he said with a sideways grin, and I laughed and ran up and hugged him ... and then stepped back, embarassed.
"Where are we?" he asked.
"We are on Ka'nahir," I replied.
"The better question is when," Alizon replied. "Welcome to 6326."
|
|
Comments: Add Your Own.
|
|
Thursday, February 5th, 2004
|
|
|
After fiddling with the computer a bit, Nagellan was able to get the craft to show up on the main viewscreen. It was a small craft, only barely large enough to have hyper capability, and it looked rather old fashioned, like a Starstorm or a Thunderbird.
No, I thought, it wasn't a Thunderbird. Too small even for that. It had to be a Starstorm. What was a Starstorm doing out here?
"Unknown ship," the voice com crackled. "Unknown ship, identify yourselves. Unknown ship, please identify yourselves _now_."
The voice, presumably coming from the Starstorm, sounded mostly authoratative but also had an edge of fear and puzzlement to it. Probably because we were an Aryah fighter, and therefore very much identified as an enemy ship. The Starstorm showed up as neutral on the computer, possibly because it was too old to be registered as an enemy, or possibly because the computer was too confused to care.
"Unknown ship, identify yourself!" the voice said for the third time. It was a man's voice; he had a moon-dweller accent and sounded vaguelly familliar.
"Zialana," Nagellan said, "You'd best do the talking."
"All right," I replied nervously. I turned to the com. "This is Ensign-Cadet Zialana Toriss in the AN-LAC 4962. We are here on friendly terms. I repeat, we have no hostile intentions. We are crippled and lost and need help."
The voice on the other end was obviously puzzled. "What kind of ship is that?"
"An Aryah Navy Light Attack Craft," I replied, "But I must emphasize that we have NO hostile intentions."
"Are you Tsarvians?" the man asked.
The question seemed to have come out of nowhere. "What?"
"Are you Tsarvians," he repeated.
"No," I said, "Our crew consists of two Znorlians and two Nevatraneans -- genetically modified Aryah, sir." Something was _definitely_ strange around here.
"I don't know what you're talking about," the man replied. "Your ship is hyper-capable. How did it get that way?"
I opened my mouth in confusion. "Who _is_ this?" I asked. "Where are we? What _day_ is it?"
"This is Major Zondril Centauri in the ZNS Starstorm-class Freedom. You are near the heliopause in the Zekador system, and the local date on _my_ homeworld is 5 Niran, 6326."
|
|
Comments: Add Your Own.
|
|
Wednesday, February 4th, 2004
|
|
|
The gravity was getting stronger, and the outside radiation readings were going through the roof. The small Aryah fighter was decently hardened, but it wasn't going to take THAT kind of dosage for much longer, and neitehr, for that matter, were we.
"Any sign of the other one?" I asked, staring desparately at the readings and hoping we could find Zanthar's ship.
"Nothing," Nagellan said with a frown. "We seem to be alone here with this ... cosmic disturbance."
And that cosmic disturbance, it seemed, wasn't too happy to have company. Alizon struggled to stabelize the rocking ship, but was unsuccessful. We were getting sucked into the gravity field and there wasn't a whole lot we could do about it.
"Make a jump," Zadrian said suddenly, looking up from his own screen.
"Our you insane, boy?" Nagellan asked, his voice an octave higher than normal. "That's suicide!"
I agreed with Nagellan, but I knew Zadrian was right. "So is staying here," I said. "The only way to get out of this is if we make a jump. These fighters have hyper-capability, do they not?"
"Yes, but we're too close in range to this ... _thing_ ... who know's _what_ it might do," Nagellan replied.
"Who knows where we'd end up ... it'd be the Darkness's worst time getting back to the Liberator," Alizon said, still managing to retain most of his characteristic calm.
"That may be," Zadrian insisted, "But we can either try that or get killed here, just ... just like Zanthar did."
AraNara, I thought. Zanthar can't be dead. He _can't_ be. We will find him. "Maybe," I said slowly, "Zanthar made a jump too, and that's why we can't find him."
"He wouldn't be that stupid, would he?" Alizon asked.
"Oh, believe me," I said with a wry smile, "He would be."
Nagellan rolled his natural eye and said "Mist save me, I'm going insane in my old age. Zialana, Alizon. Prepare for Hyperjump. Now!"
Alizon looked concerned, but he ultimately knew what we had to do. I watched the holoscreen as the hyper engines powered up, agonizingly slow, as the black hole pulled us in further and further. In a few more minutes, the gravity would be too strong, and not even a hyperjump could save us. After a gut wrenchingly long time, the hyper-readings went to green -- and Nagellan cried "NOW!"
Alizon punched the hyper accelerator, and we blew away from the black hole -- and everything nearby -- at many times faster than the speed of light.
"Don't suppose we managed to program a destination, did we?" I asked as the stars flew by at amazing speeds.
"Who cares," Zadrian cried back, "Anywhere is better than here!"
---
Aryah Navy LAC - 4962 emerged from hyperspace just outside the hyper-limit of some star system, it's yellow sun glowing white hot in the distance.
"Where the hell are we?" Zadrian asked, still stunned from the abrupt transition from hyper to normal space, which was enough to make anyone queasy when _not_ done under emergency conditions.
I shook my head in confusion and attempted to access the navigation computers. "Lucky we ended up here, wherever 'here' is, instead of the middle of a supernova or something of the like," I said.
"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Zadrian replied with a wry grin.
"Well, we still don't know where we are," I replied as I looked desparately through the computer files. "Something's really messed up here. I don't think that the computer knows _where_ we are."
"You mean we're in uncharted space?" Alizon asked with something like awe.
Nagellan shook his head. "Not necessarily. The computer's having a spasm is all. It doesn't know where we are, what day it is, local or otherwise, and it certainly doesn't know what to do so it's just sort of resetting itself. Not at all different from what happened to the Hope scoutbot, really."
"Then can't we just fix it the way they fixed that one?" I asked.
He shook hishead. "For that, we'll need to know where we are. Which we don't."
"I could try to run the star-tracker on manual," Alizon suggested, and played with the computer for a moment before letting out a satisfied sigh as some form of meaningful data began to scroll down the screen. That satisfied sigh was soon strangled by a surprised yelp.
"What is it?" I asked, getting up to look.
"It's _impossible_ is what it is," Alizon replied, staring at the data on the screen.
I pressed a key and the text immediately changed from Aryah to Znorlian. Then I let out a yelp similar to the one which Alizon had just issued.
"That _is_ impossible," I said. "There's no way we could have gotten all the way from where we were to _here_ in one hyperjump. It's just not possible. It defies all known laws of physics."
"Where does it say we are, exactly?" Zadrian inquired.
"The Zekador system," I said. "Apparently, that hyperjump just took us all the way home."
--
"It has to be a mistake," Nagellan said. "The computer's not working properly, it probably messed with the star tracker. That's the only explaination, because there's no _way_ we could have ended up at Zekador after we were all the way at Feldspar."
"I agree," I said. "But how else are we going to find out where we are?"
"We could just _go_ to Znorlia," Zadrian suggested, "And then, if it's there, we know we're in the right place -- well, at least what the computer thinks is the right place."
"That's all well and good," Alizon said, "But I can't get the fusion engines to start up. This computer is completely confused and it's not accepting my manual over-ride. As far as anyone is concerned, we're stranded out here."
"Can we at least put out a distress beacon?" I asked.
"Will do," Nagellan said. The computer, while useless for pretty much everything else, would at least allow us to do that. Now we just had to sit here and wait for someone to rescue us.
The fact that we were sitting in an Aryah fighter, probably identified as a hostile craft and a sitting duck completely notwithstanding, of course.
"Now what?" I asked. "Anything we can do next?"
"Until we get confirmation that we _are_ in fact in Zekador, though I can't rightly see how that would be, then there's nothing that we _can_ do, except wait. If we are in Zekador, there should be a fair amount of traffic near the hyper-limit. Someone will pick up our distress signal, and hopefully bother to answer it before blowing us out of space," Nagellan replied grimly.
I nodded, and stared at the screen. If the computer didn't lie, then nobody else was around here, and nobody was approaching, either. Certainly, nobody was close enough to be visible out the viewscreen. Space was quiet, empty. Surely someone whould come around here sometime soon, otherwise ... well, I wasn't sure what we'd do in that case, but I was sure we'd think of something. At the moment, however, I was extremely tired. I yawned as I scrolled through some more jumbled computer data. Computer was messed up, navigation was barely functional, onboard clock didn't seem to want to tell us what time it was, so I had no idea, but I imagined that it had to be pretty late in the ship's night because I suddenly found myself exhausted. There was so much work to be done, and so much that we still had to figure out ... but it wasn't long before I could no longer stare at the computer screen and instead drifted into a deep, if not peaceful sleep.
---
"What bothers me," I said the next morning as I drank some awful shipboard coffee that someone had thankfully managed to scrounge up while going through the emergency provisions, "Is that there are no other ships around here. None. I mean, Zekador is the most busy system in the known galaxy, wouldn't you think there would be _somebody_ around so close to the hyper limit?"
"Well they did ground all the Voyagers," Zadrian pointed out. "That cut down traffic a lot."
"Other ships besides Voyagers pass through the Zekador system," Nagellan replied. "If anything there should at least be a lot of _Tsarvian_ traffic around."
"I always forget that Tsarvia is in this system too," Alizon commented. "But yeah. With the two biggest spacefaring worlds both living here, you'd really think that there'd be more traffic around the hyperlimit. Odd."
"Very," I said. "Unless, of course, we're not really in Zekador."
"Which is likely," Zadrian agreed, "But if that's the case, then there's not a lot we can do about it."
"Nothing to do but wait," I agreed. With a long, drawn out sigh, I stared at the viewport at the unknown star system, that might be home -- but might not. AraNara, how I hate waiting!
---
I had hoped that if we made the jump, we might end up finding Zanthar, wherever he'd gone. But he wasn't around, obviously, no one was around. So I had no choice but to assume the worst. And to think, maddeningly, that if I had been a little nicer to him that day, that it wouldn't have happened. He'd be with us, we wouldn't be stranded AraNara knows where, and we'd all be happy on the Liberator playing hologames together. But he wasn't here, he was gone, possibly sucked into that black hole ...
He coudln't be dead. Couldn't, couldn't, couldn't. I had to keep saying that, keep saying that we'd find him eventually, that hope wasn't dead. We'd find him. It worked for the Hope scoutbot and it would work for this. He's alive. _Alive_.
Because if he wasn't, then it was my fault, and I knew it. And I never even got a chance to say goodbye...
Damned stupid fight! Why did we have to get in an argument over something so _ridiculous_? I'd lost my temper and then he'd stormed away, stolen a fighter, and taken off to the edge of nowhere never to be seen again. And it was all my bloody fault!
And here we were, stranded who-knew-where, possibly in Zekador but probably not, and I had nothing to do but think about how it was my fault.
/AraNara, please let Zanthar be okay ... please let us find him.../ I prayed silently to the silent stars and empty space.
"What are you lost in such deep thought about?" Alizon asked, joining me as I stared blankly out the viewport.
"Zanthar," I replied in a word, suddenly feeling extremely bad because when Zanadar was murdered I hadn't felt nearly as sad as I should, and now that Zanthar was just missing I knew what it was like. /Let him be okay!/ "I mean, if he died it's all my fault, and I know it."
"Don't say that," he replied.
"I was mad at him, Alizon. I was mad at him when he took that ship, and now he's gone, and it's my fault!"
"It's okay," he said. "We don't know he's dead. Don't give up hope. He's not dead!"
"AraNara I hope not," I said, looking out the window. "But we get in a fight, he's depressed, he disappears off the face of the galaxy. What in shaavaravarish am I supposed to think?"
"I know how you feel," he said, "But don't think like that, please."
"I try not to," I said, staring out blankly at the vastness of the cosmos. If he was alive, could be anywhere... So, for that matter, could we. How could we ever hope to find him? Had I been insane to go after him after all? No, I decided, the whole thing was my fault and I was determined to see it through. If there was any chance he was still alive, I was going to find him. "I keep hoping that he's just going to show up, and that he will send us a communication any second now asking us where we are, and that we'll all have a good joke about it and go back to the way things were, and we can head back to the Liberator and finish what we started and breathe long sighs of relief that this was all just a false alarm. I keep wanting that to happen, but it doesn't seem to be happening."
As if to answer my prayer, there was a sudden buzzing alerting the ship that we had a message, and a crackle on the com-system. It wasn't Zanthar, however, who was attempting to communicate with us.
Another ship had just come out of hyperspace.
|
|
Comments: Add Your Own.
|
|
Monday, February 2nd, 2004
|
| Time: | 10:31 pm. |
| Mood: |  drained. |
|
It took us awhile, but we're nearly here -- the Esperanza system where, supposedly, the Aryah are hiding those blasted weapons. Unfortunately the slight ... diversion ... we faced on the way over here deprived us of quite a few of our own most powerful weapons, and now we're just trying to figure out what to do next. The original plan, clearly, isn't going to work, and honestly I'm not sure how we're going to do this. We were caught off guard, to put it lightly. And now we're here, and there's not a lot we can do, other than invade and get our asses kicked, or sit here, and wait for them to figure out there's a hostile ship sitting there doing nothing, and get our asses kicked then, too. Sitting around and waiting is clearly not an option, but invading a heavily guarded Aryah-owned planet isn't going to be a cakewalk down strudel lane, as Zatyr would put it, either.
And the truth is I feel completely useless about the whole thing. Nagellan wanted me along, and that's why I'm here with the Aryah on the Liberator, not back with the rest of my fleet on the Wallabee. And yet I can't for the life of me figure out why, because I certainly can't seem to do anything useful. I don't know how to invade a fort where we are so clearly outmatched. I don't know how to turn the odds in our favor. I wish I did know, but I don't.
Right now, all I can do is wait on a miricle. And yet, I somehow sense I've had a few too many incidences of sheer dumb luck of late. In this case, our luck might be running out. And without it, only AraNara can help us now.
The best hope I can think of is that the Wallabee wasn't delayed by anything, and that they will get here quickly so we can meet up and turn against Tamika and the Imperial Committee, but I don't see that we'd be so unimaginably lucky that they'd show up in time for us to get out alive, much less with our original mission completed. I guess I just have to sit here and wait to see what happens, because I certainly can't think of a better plan. Which stinks royally, because I hate doing nothing.
|
|
Comments: Add Your Own.
|
|
Sunday, February 1st, 2004
|
| Time: | 10:14 pm. |
| Mood: |  tired. | | Music: | Jason Mraz. |
|
It seemed strange to have a celebration now, on the anniversary of the day when so much had gone wrong. And it wasn't a celebration, not really, merely a rememberance of those who had gone before it -- and a celebration of life, and hope, and the future, and all that we could become in their memories.
We watched quietly in the rec-room of the Liberator as the ceremony was adorned by fireworks and celebrities. I thought it was wonderful and honorable, Alizon thought it was completely stupid. Well, most things normal people do are stupid like that, and it's good for our cause, I think.
A year later, everything is for the almighty "Cause" -- the chance we lost ages ago, the chance we now have a second chance to pull off. A lot of people don't believe we can do this. So it would prove a lot of people wrong if we succeeded. But the results are out of our hands, it is up to the Senators now, and AraNara only knows what they're going to make of it.
If Zanthar cares, he isn't showing it. He's still not speaking to me unless absolutely necessary, and yet he still insists that he's not mad at me. Zavakiff. He's mad about something I said, and I'm sure I can remember what it was, too, and no ammount of appologizing will make him forgive me because he wants me to believe that there's nothing to forgive. Right. Well if I can't be forgiven I could at least be spoken to. He's the one who stowed away on the ship, anyway, not me. And I thought us girls were supposed to be the confusing ones!
I shouldn't be thinking about the future of the sentient races when I have my own problems to deal with though. Such as the war, and the fact that every day we come closer to the Kestav Weapons Arsenal. And our fearless leaders may have underestimated the force it will take to break in. We may find ourselves outnumbered. What are our options? Call for reinforcements? They'd never get here in time, and besides, the navy is spread out fighting the Aryah all over the galaxy. Operation Rockdragon is an ambitious and dangerous plan, and everyone is needed. There is always the Wallabee, charged with the dangerous task of finding acting-emperor Tamika, which is in the near relative vicinity of the Liberator. We need help from someone, but can we really hope to quell them in their own important task?
I hope Nagellan and Kendridan know what they're doing, because AraNara knows I don't. And time is definitely running out.
|
|
Comments: Add Your Own.
|
|
|
It really isn't natural to like three guys at the same time. Ideally, I should only be in love with one guy, and sometimes it's acceptable, if confusing, to be torn between two. But never three. And yet, this is the situation in which I find myself. And no, neither of these guys happens to be named Zerfut or Zyl'morsh -- thank AraNara, otherwise who knows what kind of a nervous wreck I'd be right now.
But no. Even with those two out of the picture, my semi-existant love life continues to be a large heap of confusion. I'm dating Zorin, and I like dating Zorin. We have a lot in common, and he's smart, and he's high ranking -- he outranks me, which is is a welcome change as opposed to cavorting around with servants like I'm used to doing. But he's not here. He's light years away. And he's really not very much fun to talk to unless he's right there in front of you. I really like him, honestly I do, and I love it when I'm around him, and I don't want to break up with him. But when he's not in my presence, it's like pulling teeth trying to talk to him, and I can't figure out how to get a decent conversation started that doesn't end in "Oh," "Yeah," or "Cool." Plus it doesn't really help my situation much when there are not one but two guys right here and now on the Liberator who are way too interesting for my own good.
I don't think that anything could ever happen between Zadrian and I. After all, he is an eighth year cadet at Tyberaan, and when do I EVER date someone who's my age, and actually is usually in the same place I am? Never, that's how often. I have never ever ever ever once had a boyfriend or even an almost-boyfriend who was my age, unless you cound N'atar, but that really never got anywhere, and neither, I sense, will this. And besides, I don't know anything about this guy. He's handsome and he is on the Liberator and he takes Zalenka's economics class. I don't know if he is really interested in Spacing, but he actually seems to know right from left about it, which is a tragic rarity. But I still don't know anything about him. He's not an Elite. He's probably a servant, if even that. I shouldn't be an elitest but I don't date servants anymore and that's the end of it. Not that I have anything against servants, in particular, it's just that we never have much to talk about, since my career is, sadly, my life. You can yell at me for this if you want but that doesn't make it any less true. I wish I knew more about him -- what he likes to do, what his other classes are besides Econ, what the heck he's doing on the Liberator, what his future plans are, does he even intend to seek education after Promotion? He probably likes to go to the cargo hold and smoke Buthweed in his spare time. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he did. Maybe even relieved, because then I wouldn't have to think about him anymore, and I could get back to the fact that I have a boyfriend, even though I never see him and rarely talk to him.
Now Alizon ... Alizon is another story altogether. He's smart and funny and caring and worst of all he seems to really like me. I find myself sad when he's not here, and looking forward to talking to him every day. But he's an Aryah. How can it be right? How can a Znorlian fall for a Nevatranean who is going to go back to Nevat eventually and I will therefore never see again? Surely I can't leave my perfectly good boyfriend for someone I'll see even less often? And speaking of, I wish he were here. He's on the ship, but I can't follow him around all of the time, so I'm here, wishing I'd accidentally/on purpose bump into him. I think that there could really be a chance for us, if he somehow doesn't go back to Kolata Nevat and instead stays here with the Znorlians. My parents married interspecies, why can't I at least date as such? But if I date Alizon that means I'm no longer dating Zorin. And it destroys any chance I had with Zadrian, who is so conveniently here and now and real -- which has never happened before. But there was no chance to begin with.
The only answer to my confusion is that I DON'T KNOW. If only there were more of me, so I could have all of them, ha ha. Or at least two of them. Zadrian is rather a mystery right now. He's probably even with someone. So am I.
This is stupid. Why do I have to be tempted? I have a boyfriend, and a perfectly good one at that. I just wish I could see him more often. I should only have one person on my mind right now, not three. And yet, my mind has an annoying way of thinking things that I don't necessarily want it to think.
Love is wonderful. Love stinks.
|
|
Comments: Add Your Own.
|
|
Saturday, January 31st, 2004
|
| Time: | 7:38 pm. |
| Mood: |  bored. | | Music: | movie background music. |
|
This afternoon, Nagellan called us all down to the Hall for a memorial to all of those lost in the exploration effort, Znorlian and Aryah alike. It was a sad, touching moment, as we recalled the risks of our occupation, and that we are all in very real danger even now. Space is a harsh and unforgiving environment and the truth remains that as we speed through it at nearly fifty times the speed of light, the slightest mistake could lead to the instant anihilation of all of us. And normal space, where we travel much slower, can be even more dangerous. That was where Kassoria was lost. Right in orbit of her homeworld, ready to come home. I didn't know them, but a day hasn't passed in the last twelve months when I haven't thought of them. It is in their memory that I continue.
I said yesterday that these are interesting times, which is ironic, because other than the sad moment of memorial, today was mind numbingly boring. We didn't really do a lot except play strategy games on the sims (and lose, for the most part), and we went down to the rec-room to watch video discs but the holo's being hogged. It figures. Some guys are watching a movie about the battle of Ashir or something, I'm not really paying attention. I think I've already seen it, anyway. So now I'm just sitting here, bored out of my mind.
At least this boredom is better than what I was feeling this time last year. God knows, anything is better than that...
|
|
Comments: Add Your Own.
|
|
Friday, January 30th, 2004
|
|
|
The season of Darkness is always a contemplative time of the year, even out here in the middle of nowhere when "seasons" have no meaning. The ship-date has no meaning in comparrison to the date at home, but time does still pass on the planet Znorlia, and on my homeworld right now it has been a year since that unfortunate day, when I tried to contact the rebels and failed, and instead ended up tapping into an even more high security data stream -- and although I warned them of the rebels' trap, I was unable to warn them of their own impending doom.
It's possible I could have prevented it. I haven't forgotten that for one day. I could have prevented all of their deaths.
But who am I kidding? Who do I think I am to presume that I could have had such power? Those more powerful than I attempted to "prevent their deaths," and they were no more successful than I could have been. But still, I wonder. That day I was so unknowingly close to them, the light years bridged instantly by the worders of the hypercom. They were completely unaware that it was the last day of their lives. So was I. In fact, I was completely unaware of whom I was actually transmitting the message. But these two instances were not realized until it was too late.
Too late.
And yet there is hope. Martyrs come at an interesting time. They lost their lives for what they loved. But will their deaths cause what they love to falter or prosper? These are difficult times, and yet we have a chance that I know we cannot ignore. The war, which has raged brutally since long before I was born, begun during the revolutionary birth of hyperspace pioneering, and eventually lead to its demise. But after so many long and painful years, the war may finally be over. Their cities have been conquered. Their leader is in our custody. The remaining imperial loyalists continue to fight, and yet we may soon have them cornered. After forty long years, the war will be over.
Ziara knows that. Tanner Jemineye knows that. This was their pet project, the two of them -- conquer Kolata Nevat, end the war. Not everyone liked the idea. Made us look like the bad guys. But the war could continue no longer, and two invasions of the homeworld showed us that. The only other option was surrender. And that, as everyone knew, would never truly be an option. So we invaded Kolata Nevat, and we won. Nine months later, we had Emperor Sanger himself in a jar waiting to be interrogated. And yet the Empire still lives, and is determined to fight back.
But what if we win? What if, after all this time, the war is finally over? Will we turn inward, fix the problems at home, and never again look to the stars that once inspired us so? Or could this be a new chance? Can we fulfill our destiny in the stars at last, explore the Zoorti Nebula Phoenix Sector, which were painfully sacrificed at the hands of war?
There was an old saying on the planet earth, "May you live in interesting times." Interesting times these are, and interesting they have gotten especially in the past few years. But whether interesting means good or bad ... that is yet to be determined.
|
|
Comments: Add Your Own.
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
zialana's journal
relieved.
shocked.
confused.
contemplative.