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The Journal of Caius Oakley - Printable Version

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RE: The Journal of Caius Oakley - Coin - 08-17-2015

Many moons have passed since I last wrote in this journal, and to be honest, the events that occurred betweentimes made me doubt whether I'd ever put pen to paper again. Anything more than a summary of where I roamed after lifting off from Leeds would be too painful for me to re-live; suffice it to say that I followed the trail of my ship, and indeed did find her... and lost her again. I found Beatrice too, and lost her as well.

Beatrice and I flitted over the entirety of Gallian Space, gathering information for the Council. During this time I took on many different names and used many different accents, to the point that my mental health was suffering... which one was the real me? One thing that kept me sane was Beatrice, and our daughter Amelia; when they died I lost all sense of self, I took whatever missions offered to me, regardless of risk. They tell me that this catatonic fugue persisted during my capture and may have contributed to the savagery of my interrogation; I was unable to answer any question, and barely responded at all to pain.

Eventually the husk of my former self was discarded, thrown away like trash into the hold of a slave liner destined for the Freeport in T37, where I found myself in the hands of the Gas Miners Guild. Appparently, traumatic catatonic fugue is the ideal state to be in for mining, and my noticeable productivity earned me several pay increases - unbeknownst to me, for I was unresponsive still. I woke up for the alarm, I ate meals in the refectory, I shot rocks in space, I hauled gas, I slept. My lack of interest in anything meant that my bonuses just kept on adding, accruing interest upon interest.

The day that I came back to myself was utterly unremarkable; there was no flash of light, no glimpse of a child's face, just a hot day in a ship with malfunctioning life support, and me walking into the bar of Fujisawa. My presence at the door quietened the room impressively.

I walked up to the bar, the patrons pulling their legs clear of my path, their mouths wide and eyes staring.

"Ichi biru, kudesai." A gasp came from every mouth in the room except mine - I'd not even been heard to speak before, never mind Nihonji.
"Honto-Ni?!"
"Hai. Hieta."
I drained the cold glass in one pass, and found myself in a dingy bar in a shoddy station, in a backwater system... with every face turned to me in frank and open astonishment.

"What?"
This short word was met with a cacophony of noise, backslaps and many, many toasts with moonshine sake. The next day my head felt like an anvil, and getting dressed in a flight suit was a struggle. The pre-flight checks of my Kamome were interrupted,


"Kaiusu Ōkusama, you are not to be mining today." Said a loading clerk
"Honto?"
"Hai, instead you are to collect a load of yttrium from Planet Blouis in Orleanais, on the orders of the Guildmaster"
"I regret to inform the Guildmaster that I consider that my life would be in grave danger should I return to Gallia"
"Do not be concerned, Kaiusu. You have a different ship, a new name, and if they had wanted you dead they had plenty of opportunity."
"hhrrm. Yes, you make a very good point there... but why do we need yttrium anyway?"
"We use yttrium in mining lasers, and now, unless you have more questions, you should be preparing a Kujira for flight. Good luck out there."

That marked the beginning of my career as a fully-fledged gas miner. My career progression was rapid, and soon my harrowing experiences were put to good use - I was invited onto the Board of Directors in a role of Internal Relations, essentially ensuring that everyone was happy. My blunt demeanour and acerbic tongue meant that very few wanted to spend time with me, instead preferring to solve their difficulties themselves, giving me more time to sit and contemplate the still, empty blackness of space that mirrored my soul.