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+--- Thread: LOG: Rudy's Ruminating (/showthread.php?tid=201922)
LOG: Rudy's Ruminating - Proselyte - 02-25-2024
PERSONAL LOG
Vandenhout, Rudy C
Fixer
Blue Skies Caucus
Gaian Movement
For all the years making a second life on that rock, how’s it come to be that back there trudging through the ruins with those pensioners, I didn’t feel much in the way of missing it?
Hrm. Must be Leeds.
When you lose everything once over, you’ve already had the whole experience one and done, haven’t you? At least on Leeds, no matter which side held the tunnels snaking through Horsforth in one month or another of the war, there were always flames to squelch and people to keep track of. That’s life as it was.
But Veracruz? When word came in that the fleet was gone and Liberty parked overhead, and by the time the first blazes we’d prepped for weeks to fight cropped up, we knew our jobs were pointless.
Isn’t a simple thing, evacuating a whole planet of every man, woman and child. Some people slip through the cracks, others want to be the last out, a few just don’t want to see the writing on the wall. Those of us left assumed we'd be standing tall in front of Yank soldiers once the junta’s military had their last hurrah.
Well, the reality seemed obvious after the sky started belching fire. Left us a mite outmatched with our quaint water projectors.
And you know what? Good riddance to them.
The place turned over the decade from a new beginning for us, to a vipers’ nest of jackbooted thugs. Sure as sure, they had it coming. No, it’s no surprise I don’t feel much for the place anymore, even as beautiful as she was and the fresh air that graced my lungs each day.
But seeing my sobbing countrymen and women looking over the ruins of their old borough, a barely recognizable sea of slag and rubble… It's their memory that gave that old nowhere the real life that the rebels squandered.
Now that's worth respect.
The moment never lasted, course. Any planetary approach alerts the bloodhounds, so I could only loiter us on the surface for an hour or so with each group. But every bit of closure garnered is one more pair of eyes letting the past stay dead, and looking to the future.
The Crown not being inclined to secure that for us, I’d say I’m something of a samaritan even. Really! Her Majesty aught to knight me for all I do for this community.
We’ll see if BMM’s Nottingham branch agrees when the sparks fly in Cinderhill’s spaceport next week. I’m sure the gents are eager to thank them for all the years of “stable employment” on the homeworld.
Meantime, here’s a glass raised to Veracruz from her once-again-wayward citizen!
It was too good of a deal to last.
Cheers!
Hrm. Must be Leeds.
When you lose everything once over, you’ve already had the whole experience one and done, haven’t you? At least on Leeds, no matter which side held the tunnels snaking through Horsforth in one month or another of the war, there were always flames to squelch and people to keep track of. That’s life as it was.
But Veracruz? When word came in that the fleet was gone and Liberty parked overhead, and by the time the first blazes we’d prepped for weeks to fight cropped up, we knew our jobs were pointless.
Isn’t a simple thing, evacuating a whole planet of every man, woman and child. Some people slip through the cracks, others want to be the last out, a few just don’t want to see the writing on the wall. Those of us left assumed we'd be standing tall in front of Yank soldiers once the junta’s military had their last hurrah.
Well, the reality seemed obvious after the sky started belching fire. Left us a mite outmatched with our quaint water projectors.
And you know what? Good riddance to them.
The place turned over the decade from a new beginning for us, to a vipers’ nest of jackbooted thugs. Sure as sure, they had it coming. No, it’s no surprise I don’t feel much for the place anymore, even as beautiful as she was and the fresh air that graced my lungs each day.
But seeing my sobbing countrymen and women looking over the ruins of their old borough, a barely recognizable sea of slag and rubble… It's their memory that gave that old nowhere the real life that the rebels squandered.
Now that's worth respect.
The moment never lasted, course. Any planetary approach alerts the bloodhounds, so I could only loiter us on the surface for an hour or so with each group. But every bit of closure garnered is one more pair of eyes letting the past stay dead, and looking to the future.
The Crown not being inclined to secure that for us, I’d say I’m something of a samaritan even. Really! Her Majesty aught to knight me for all I do for this community.
We’ll see if BMM’s Nottingham branch agrees when the sparks fly in Cinderhill’s spaceport next week. I’m sure the gents are eager to thank them for all the years of “stable employment” on the homeworld.
Meantime, here’s a glass raised to Veracruz from her once-again-wayward citizen!
It was too good of a deal to last.
Cheers!
RE: LOG: Rudy's Ruminating - Proselyte - 02-25-2024
PERSONAL LOG
Vandenhout, Rudy C
Fixer
Blue Skies Caucus
Gaian Movement
Every time I hoist myself into that safety hazard on the landing pads outside and burn for inner Bretonia, I just can't stop being marveled by the hollow spectacle of the Cambridge Line. All this noise to keep our enemies away from the core of the House.
Does it work? You'd only have to ask the rocket jockeys on that decrepit racer's hulk in Dublin whether it kept the Corsairs out, if there were any left.
Well, we do contribute to the trouble there I admit, against my sentiment on the matter. But really, we can't afford to jeopardize the movement on whimsy nosing off to the Corsairs. That isn't how the world works. If I did that, how could I get one of their hitmen on payroll to clean up all these young buck bounty hunters coming planetside to drag off my boys, or make trouble for Selina's lot?
It's something you live with. Watching their hunting parties vanish in the night soothes me good though, I'll say. I will have to give compliments to Torente's work. That stripling of his though, twitchy as a stock ganger on cardie withdrawal.
Teheh. That'd drive them both up the wall if they heard me. Cretan kid just doesn't sell the "fearsome warrior" game. Wonder why they're together. Bet they'd love to hear I was taking a page out of their book today, business-wise.
Fox came through for me on Halifax and had a Lib buyer lined up direct for the little glowing trinket we happened on in Vespucci, a proper score. Once he got a look at the images she sent, was practically drooling to get it "for the collection!". Definitely an "industrial visionary" sort, she said. Flamboyant, more pizzazz than real competence. As long as he's dumb and happy enough to hand us a cheque in exchange for junk, how can I complain?
Should be a nice shot in the arm for us, on the finance-side. A little more capital means more supplies, means an easier time for the footsoldiers to clinch the job coming up.
Anything we don't need, I'll pass off to Sel, or the Green Party if she's all buttoned up. Important to remember what we're fighting for.
As for the previous owner, they're still laid up and lights off, but the medtechs are saying we're on track to a full recovery. If I were a betting man, I would wager they won't be happy I took their toy. That should be good. Angry people talk, and I wouldn't mind some questions answered.
If not, well... could let them walk. Maybe let them be Torente's problem.
Target practice for the kid, maybe? Boy could use it.
Does it work? You'd only have to ask the rocket jockeys on that decrepit racer's hulk in Dublin whether it kept the Corsairs out, if there were any left.
Well, we do contribute to the trouble there I admit, against my sentiment on the matter. But really, we can't afford to jeopardize the movement on whimsy nosing off to the Corsairs. That isn't how the world works. If I did that, how could I get one of their hitmen on payroll to clean up all these young buck bounty hunters coming planetside to drag off my boys, or make trouble for Selina's lot?
It's something you live with. Watching their hunting parties vanish in the night soothes me good though, I'll say. I will have to give compliments to Torente's work. That stripling of his though, twitchy as a stock ganger on cardie withdrawal.
Teheh. That'd drive them both up the wall if they heard me. Cretan kid just doesn't sell the "fearsome warrior" game. Wonder why they're together. Bet they'd love to hear I was taking a page out of their book today, business-wise.
Fox came through for me on Halifax and had a Lib buyer lined up direct for the little glowing trinket we happened on in Vespucci, a proper score. Once he got a look at the images she sent, was practically drooling to get it "for the collection!". Definitely an "industrial visionary" sort, she said. Flamboyant, more pizzazz than real competence. As long as he's dumb and happy enough to hand us a cheque in exchange for junk, how can I complain?
Should be a nice shot in the arm for us, on the finance-side. A little more capital means more supplies, means an easier time for the footsoldiers to clinch the job coming up.
Anything we don't need, I'll pass off to Sel, or the Green Party if she's all buttoned up. Important to remember what we're fighting for.
As for the previous owner, they're still laid up and lights off, but the medtechs are saying we're on track to a full recovery. If I were a betting man, I would wager they won't be happy I took their toy. That should be good. Angry people talk, and I wouldn't mind some questions answered.
If not, well... could let them walk. Maybe let them be Torente's problem.
Target practice for the kid, maybe? Boy could use it.
RE: LOG: Rudy's Ruminating - Proselyte - 03-04-2024
PERSONAL LOG
Vandenhout, Rudy C
Fixer
Blue Skies Caucus
Gaian Movement
Laid eyes on Gaia again for the first time since 829 again. Crown jewel of the whole sector if you ask me. It is small wonder it became the line in the sand for the early Movement.
But gods be our witness, I am starting to wonder if our brothers and sisters on Islay aren't losing touch with solid ground. When I had arrived to pick up all our extra "office supplies" my lads'll need for after Cresthill, I stopped over in the bar for a refreshment and to read the room. A regular spotted me and assumed I must've been a freelancer, but we wandered into talking about the cause. I could tell he was surprised, hadn't expected someone from the "riffraff" to be in my position.
The hoity-toity Cantabrigian said our efforts should be focused on protecting Gaia, not spinning our wheels out towards the Omegas. Rightly I figure, I told him the parts of Bretonia people live in matter more than one symbolic dirt pile, bloody good symbol it might be. Our people on Nottingham will hardly know whether Gaia is unblemished or not.
Well, then he promptly sneered looking down his spindly nose at me, and said if my lot cared about the state of that world, we'd repeat the treatment they gave the colonizers on "Mother Gaia" herself. I say that a large body of those dead were Leedsmen. He squares his eyes with mine, leering, and says "what's the harm, then?"
They were nice enough to let me record this in the brig.
He is actually sharing a cell next to mine. I smile back at him, from time to time, him and his broken nose and the new red smile across his forehead. Gave me some smarting bruises himself. Solid right on that one for a boffin... yes, I'm talking about you. Care for a cameo in my memoir?
It's our duty to remember what we've got in common, don't you think?
Well, they'll let me out in the morning, fortune's favor. Must get this all medicine and kit back to the dam. Especially the cold weather gear, if only to make the days out there more bearable.
Ideally, the Cretans aren't conning Jasper into playing pinfinger just before a mission, the delightful twit. They always try to bait the grenade carriers into it, and want to watch the aftermath when they stumble. I'll hope that's the worst I have to look forward to.
But gods be our witness, I am starting to wonder if our brothers and sisters on Islay aren't losing touch with solid ground. When I had arrived to pick up all our extra "office supplies" my lads'll need for after Cresthill, I stopped over in the bar for a refreshment and to read the room. A regular spotted me and assumed I must've been a freelancer, but we wandered into talking about the cause. I could tell he was surprised, hadn't expected someone from the "riffraff" to be in my position.
The hoity-toity Cantabrigian said our efforts should be focused on protecting Gaia, not spinning our wheels out towards the Omegas. Rightly I figure, I told him the parts of Bretonia people live in matter more than one symbolic dirt pile, bloody good symbol it might be. Our people on Nottingham will hardly know whether Gaia is unblemished or not.
Well, then he promptly sneered looking down his spindly nose at me, and said if my lot cared about the state of that world, we'd repeat the treatment they gave the colonizers on "Mother Gaia" herself. I say that a large body of those dead were Leedsmen. He squares his eyes with mine, leering, and says "what's the harm, then?"
They were nice enough to let me record this in the brig.
He is actually sharing a cell next to mine. I smile back at him, from time to time, him and his broken nose and the new red smile across his forehead. Gave me some smarting bruises himself. Solid right on that one for a boffin... yes, I'm talking about you. Care for a cameo in my memoir?
You're a tactless rat... and a disrespectful rake in the presence of Mother Gaia besides.
It's our duty to remember what we've got in common, don't you think?
Well, they'll let me out in the morning, fortune's favor. Must get this all medicine and kit back to the dam. Especially the cold weather gear, if only to make the days out there more bearable.
Ideally, the Cretans aren't conning Jasper into playing pinfinger just before a mission, the delightful twit. They always try to bait the grenade carriers into it, and want to watch the aftermath when they stumble. I'll hope that's the worst I have to look forward to.