In search of a father

[R3VOLV360]

My mother always had pictures of a man dressed in Kusari Naval Regalia around our one bedroom hole of a house. She told me ever since I asked, that he was the man who would've been my father. This was probably the single most confusing thing of my life up until a rather late age. I thought he genuinely was my father, just that he wasn't with us anymore for some reason. I asked my mother what happened to him when I was about 5 or 6 and she said that he died in defence of integrity. I asked what integrity was and she replied, "When you are left with nothing and the sun is setting and the day is closing, if you can look back on that day and be proud of all that you have of accomplished in it, then you have integrity. It is more valuable than all the credits in the universe."

Manhattan may be a booming metropolis of a planet, but they still need the poor to grease the wheels. My mother was one of those wheel-greasers. I only learned much later that my 'father' had died in the service of the Kusari Naval Forces in an accident. Apparently he had an altercation with his superior about some battle plan that would put many innocents at risk. The usual heroic stuff. Down here in the slums, heroism equals death, although this does seem to the case all over the world. This is why some may call me cowardly for not standing up for what is right. I just say that I am keeping my nose out of other peoples business.

I am now a teenager, around 16 or 17, I cant remember and my mother is very ill. Luckily I have learned a thing or two in these slums and have a decent day job to cover most expenses. She calls me close one night and tells me that the man in the photos is not my father, he never knew me at all. He was indeed my mothers husband and she hoped that I would have been his son. She said that I am actually the child of Bretonian thugs who cornered my mother in a dark alley once. She broke into tears at recounting the memory, but she knows she must tell me this and is running out of time. I too shed a tear, not for my mother, but almost in anger. What was I? A Kusari-Bret growing up in Liberty. I might as well make a name for myself in Rheinland.

A few weeks later and my mother has passed on. No funeral is held in the slums, but most of her friends come over to pass on condolences to me and leave a small gift. Life starts deteriorating rapidly for me; I was truly not aware how much my mother did for me. I thought I was the invincible teenager, but little did I truly know. I have to eventually give up the house and from that day forth I make a vow. I will find out what happened to my father and who he was. I only have a name and rank, Lieutenant Hushai Korishma. I have my entire life ahead of me to find him, but I cant do it sitting on this planet. I would have to venture to Kusari space and their military records. I call in a few favours and board a shuttle to Planet Erie, although, a garbage ship crammed with people would be a better description of the vessel.

A few years pass to the present day and Ive gathered enough credits to buy the cheapest ship I can find. Going straight to Kusari as a no one would be stupid, so its time to put some hours in and get known. This should be an interesting ride...