Transmission Source: Malta (geopoint unspecified)
User ID: Ajax-----(Scrambled)
*A rough, choppy semblance of a videofeed enters screen, brutalised by distance and ionising radiation between the sender and Santini. Eventually the image focusses as much as it can be forced to, and steadies, revealing the lengthy snout of a moderately human male.*
“Good morning my comrade… in blood - or quite potentially good evening if we run on Cambridge Mean Time.”
“If you deign it worthy to reply, in the positive, to the transmission I offer you - as a pact of kinship betwixed the gaze of the astral pantheon and above grounded flesh of human tissue that we call life - then evidently my character judgement isn’t completely off the target’s innermost metaphorical notch. Speaking the blunt, hammer nose of clarity that the honour of men dictates; I sense a commonality of interest between you and I. So perhaps we should strike it in the open and have the issue out of us, eh?
*The maw widens, revealing razor-rows of immaculately dentured canines*
“If I were but a woman in body I would make for a poor oracle; so permit me to elaborate whilst your interest remains and Maltese still sees fit to maim Maltese and to introduce myself on the very whim of common courtesy; I am Ajax, and I bear upon my ears the glory of being a Hellenist - a Greek, a Byzantine, a child of the Κοράκι and a man of freedom. After all…" *chuckles* "…One cannot truly understand the glory of that honorific word without being first having one's freedom denied, can we? Freedom. Hm, such a… subjective term. Rife with room for negative misinterpretations, wouldn't you agree?"
"There's a freedom in the life of a slave - freedom from self-concern, from ambition… all that mirage of angst, worry and confusion which the realms of choice thrust upon you - they are stripped back. The only goal left is emancipation; and to gain that you excel, you thrive, you free yourself via aiding society - rendering honoured service to your kinsman. You are force, you are living manpower in every fibre of your being, you are the mark against which machines are tested, backs are broken, hamstrings severed by the razor edges of the Orange Dream… in short, you are necessary; without this metaphorical slave and millions of the like our darling Malta would wither as a tree without leaves or a infant without a tit. And this… pithy conflict between our power-grabbing brethrin, the spirit-infatuated 101'st squadron happily gargling genital fluids in a back *swears* - hole, the Lanceri and their power-possessed wanderlust for nothing but themselves, their monopoly upon the elders… argh. It is enough to make a sane person weep. One, the Contari, purveys Cardamine, but utilises slaves in each plantation, slaves that they derive from, ahem, where, exactly? Do they just expect fresh human cargo to just… materialise upon their shores? And as to the 101'st, argh. War, war, infinite war and the diplomatic parlance of a mound of fecial expurgations, incessantly ranting about Ishmael and with no real connexion to the man (or woman) of the street. Hmph. And to think a Greek could indicate the true nature of Hispania better than his fellows…"
*Realises he's ranting slightly*
"…Apologies Sir, I'm as moved to anger over this… private part comparison bonanza… as you are yourself. However, it is a waste of good bandwidth to merely indicate that we share a common belief and for this I apologise, but your previous little message grabbed the focus of the Κοράκι and has held it firmly. Let us be honest, our motive is slightly self-serving, we wish to proffer a job offer. You are a family man I see - one who cares enough about the wellbeing of our beloved house to have the sense to distance himself from the damage that is currently being construed by our neighbours. That's a benign sign Santini, it does you credit."
"But enough brown-snouting, I've had my fill of placing my face into the rectums of others in the last twenty-four hours. Sir, we, the Κοράκι (Malta's primary slave extraction and purveyance network) are looking for potential new members of the family, cultured people, intelligent people, people who don't have their eyes locked firmly upon an elder seat and lack any real inclination to torpedo their own kind. Our job (and it's a considerable one), is to keep Malta alive, her industry growing, the cardimine threshed, the plantations flowing, the sex regular and disease free. To do that of course, we need more slaves, and for that, we need more slavers."
"So my friend, are you the shoot-first-and-ask-questions-later-before-tractoring-the-imbecile-in-then-flogging-them-on-the-slave-market type? Or the docile liner captain? Pray tell, Sir, if I have your focus. Indeed, any possible way you could aid us would be…"
*Grins vulpinely*
"…Freedom in itself".
"Feel free to message in any queries or responses to this blatant self-advertisement. Gracias".
Are you familiar with the death of Don Alejandro Ibanez, about three to four decades ago? No, probably not. He was killed by three slaves. Myself among them. And why was I? Because my father had gotten in his way, and been killed for it.
So, you ask what I am, and you present two options.
I would say more.
What I was, in youth - first a normal child on Malta, then a slave, and then a murderer. What I was, as a young adult - an assassin. One may ask what the difference is, and rightly so, but at the time the distinction felt important.
What I was, later in life - a peddler of influence and information. A politician, eventually, but one that was already wealthy enough and sought to strengthen Malta - to put an end to the Coalition, and later, to Gallia.
And what I am now. But that story will take more time.
Are you familiar with the Strays? No, probably not. Their rebellion was mercifully short-lived. What about Harvester 24? Hmm... almost certainly not. That project was a terrible mistake that nearly killed my daughter. Or perhaps those fools calling themselves RA?
This newest rebellion... it isn't new. Malta is a world of violence.
And I would posit that it comes from the slave trade.
When you encourage people to see other lives as beneath them, they will not always limit that to a certain subset of people. They will see all others as beneath them, and will raise arms in rebellion. There have been numerous examples. There will be many more. Power will shift, Dons will rise and fall... And you and yours will be at the center of it, and in the best position to profit. How remarkably Maltese of you.
What am I now?
I am a man who has seen the worst of Malta, and been left unsurprised. I am a man who has seen the best of Malta, and been left unimpressed. I am a man born of Malta, yet enslaved by its people for three years.
And now? Now, I am helping to manage my eldest daughter's business. She's made something of herself, entirely on her own, outside of Malta's toxic political atmosphere. I couldn't be more proud of her.
One thing you got right is that I am a family man. I do not want my future grandson to be a killer before his sixteenth birthday, as I was, and as my younger daughter was, and as my adopted son was.
I am tired of destruction. Now, I intend to foster creation.
But let me be clear here. I am a murderer, whether directly or by proxy. A body count like mine cannot be simply swept under the rug. Know, then, that if anyone attempts to interfere, there will be hell to pay.
"...Interference in your destiny? Hm, perhaps. But as to the matter of me knowing absolutely nothing, that's... quite a conclusive jump of you to render, eh? I mean, just look at me."
*the picture focuses again, before crackling off, violating Ajax's words*
"I am a genetic freak my friend, a created being. Not by traditional means, not for procreation's own sake nor the perseverance of Maltese kind, nor from any caring parent's desire for a child. Of course, this being Sirius this is hardly an original state, but, I am not a freeborn any more than I could be depicted as being biologically normative. I spent the first portion of a life that will prove considerably shorter than your own, providing you don't die of disease, being shot, ecetra, before you clinically expire. Since you have chosen a 'way out' of the downward spiral that we call the Maltese political sphere, then yes, you probably will outlive my person by a number of decades. I am an ex-slave, a deviant, an Outcast within Outcasts, and I remember my own, personal slavery to the iron grip of the state...." *exhales* "...Perfectly."
"...As I mentioned before; to understand freedom you must first be, then possess. At least with chains mooring my neck to the floor there possessed a certain clarity. Now, now that I'm free, rich, corrupt, hedonistic, a bastion of Nacion and an insignificant Maltese dignitary in a Maltese organisation so minor as to ride upon inconsequence - with lackeys and hagglers to my left and political rivals to my right, do you not occasionally wonder if I wish to return to the bonded state from whence I came, hmm? Life was backbreaking, cruel, but honest and lacking in deceit."
"You know how it is... You yourself murdered a man for revenge; do not get me wrong compadre, revenge is an honourable motive in line with the code of our people. There is no law against emancipation, after all..."
"...And now you see yourself as a murderer? Intriguing, because that would imply that a lack of righteousness to your acts." *Grins* "...Oh do not act surprised hombre, I do occasionally open the files of those I converse with. But, for the sake of debate, permit me to raise particulars..."
"You state that you have removed yourself - you seek a 'better life' in Bretonia, a nation as wracked by war and hypocrisy as our own. Do not misunderstand me friend, Cambridge is an infinitely preferable local to preserve one's descendants - the planet is fertile, the people benign, the flora less sadistic. I wish your daughter well, she will flower there. But as for your own person? Well..."
"Santini, you describe yourself as a killer, with "bodies that cannot be swept under the carpet" - in other words, you see no redemption fitting for yourself, or for Malta at that, if what you tell me is an honest, total reflection of the thoughts simmering in your mind. So enlighten me hombre, is it really?"
*Languidly taps the viewscreen*
"If not for this transmission I would not have bothered you - but I see in you a man of fire. Honestly Santini, if you truly care so little about the state of the Nacion, why pray do you decide to broadcast to every singular schmuck in both the Lance and the Ghosts that you deign not participate in their wrestle? That takes considerable bravdo to do Sir; If I were you (now, this is purely a hypothetical example), I wouldn’t wish to have a series of Cardi-crazed Maltesian mercenaries breathing down my (and my family’s) collective necks for the rest of... well. Until the inevitable. I must admit those... talents... of yours must be truly formidable.”
*Yawns*
“This is exactly why I’m propositioning you – Santini, I offer you a part-time job, as a fellow freeman and ex-servant of the realm. The Nacion is dying – if the liners cannot travel uninterrupted by this uncivil war Malta will fall, cardimine production will cease and we’ll all die a horrible, cardimine-deprived death when the Lanceri or whoever else executes the more agricultural element of our collective arteries run out of... hm, “help”, to keep the blood proverbially pumping. It may be months, years even, but the Nacion is in a state of decay that proves particularly virulent. Our birth rate? Odd how rarely that particular topic is referred to in common speech, eh?”
“As you state, this conflict is not new. The problem is power – nobody, anywhere, wields as much power-to rule as whatever organisation that presently possesses the Maltese state does. State-controlled slavery creates big, unwieldy targets for revolutionaries and similar societal poisoners. The 101’st? They had their time, and indeed, there was a point when a military dictatorship had a role in shaping Maltese policy. What are they now? Foul cultists holed up in an unsightly, purposeless bastion. The Lanceri? An old family with new ambitions, rise, fall, rise fall. That’s all our people are, waves upon the shoreline of incontinuity. But what if the shore erodes?”
“You say you wish to create – no longer destroy. But what of preserving what already exists – the collective soul of a people. You say you have removed yourself from the political chaos, but it is not the politics of the state which runs us to destruction. The states, the families... all self-serving agents. So perhaps it’s time to render a public service eh?”
*Stretches, and clips a thumb claw*
“It’s a compliment for you to state that the Κοράκι is an ample example of Maltese life by our role within the whole human-cargo distribution network, but you are in error. No Sir, I don’t place people beneath myself – I sell people (as fast as I can) to the people who do, and watch their ivory towers crumble as a consequence. But think of this man, say I derive a cargo of twelve thousand slaves from... eh... a backwater saltflat on Harris. I have just saved those twelve thousand personages from starvation, emaciation, disease and abandonment at the hands of the GRN. One day, they will thank me, they will free themselves or perhaps their offspring will, and will join the ranks of the Maltese proper – the finest Sapiens in the sector I might add. Exactly...”
Peers at the camera*
“...Can you claim to have been a slave yourself and not possess an awareness of this, eh? Or perhaps you are testing me. Perhaps.”
*Suddenly grins*
“...So, a job offer. The fact remains painfully clear that the Κοράκι are currently rather short of accomplished triggermen (to the definition of passive escorts) who lack some form of inherent, interlinking bond to the present establishment. Whilst I appreciate that you are man in the glowing years of his retirement, the job pays well and... hopefully, you wouldn’t be claimed by circumstance to aggressively recapitulate at either other Maltese or Bretonians, at least, unless they attempt something of the inverse. Directly; we need escorts, and Malta requires... patrons, and that’s the end of it.”
“So tell me Sir. Which tickles you more, your honour, or possibility of a vast financial endowment to your loved ones and the ability to aid Malta in a way more becoming of our race?”
I was going to just quietly stay out of it. But I was contacted by a representative of the Ghosts. Perhaps they thought to bring me in line, perhaps their intent was to lend their scheme some legitimacy by bringing one of the "old guard" into it, I can't say.
But I had to make my perspective clear, or else others may continue to try to drag me back into this childish bickering.
But, you think it takes bravado? Had this been the Ghosts in their prime, or the Blue Lotus Syndicate, I would agree. This, however, is more akin to refusing to step into a fight between a splinter group of Xenos and a band of drunk Rogues. Neither have the power, reach, or influence to threaten me.
As for the wars in Bretonia... yes, they have been rather constant. But let's compare notes, shall we?
Bretonia is under assault by a foreign invader, Gallia. They fight because they must. Prior to that, there was the war with Kusari, over... well, no one truly knows. But regardless of the cause of it, when Imperial Kusari forces were trapped in Bretonia during a Gallic assault, the two sides put aside their differences in the face of the real threat.
Malta, while seperated from the Gallic assault currently, is still on the front lines. Despite this, the Maltese are content with their petty bickering, harassing miners, and their meaningless Corsair vendetta - which I'm quite certain was intentionally inflammed by Coalition spies.
Further, it must be noted that Bretonia is the one house willing to treat the Maltese with some dignity. Legalized personal Cardamine use, official neutrality and recognition as a sovereign nation. No other nation has done that, and that is why I came here. It would be nice, then, if the Maltese would actually act like a sovereign nation.
Back to business, though. You want my assistance in preserving a decaying state.
Maltese politics have always been about the individual. "What's in it for me?", they say. For you, obviously, there's money.
But what do I have to gain from this, to justify the risk to my family?
Money? I have more than I will ever need. We have always been a fiscally cautious family. Mia is a published author in addition to her other work, and it is not in Tiana's character to be idle; with or without wealth, she will not stop working.
Cardamine? Cryer has already begun production of Stabiline. It's not the most pleasant thing, but it's functional and doesn't tie our health to the capricious Dons of Malta.
The slave trade attracts a lot of attention. Typically the heavily-armed kind. And yes, we can probably handle that. But there are side effects that reach further than just a couple bounty hunters coming after us. Put more bluntly, Mia's career would be utterly destroyed if this came to light.
And that, more than anything else, is why I must refuse.
But, so we're clear, I do not intend to get in your way either, so long as you and yours leave me and mine alone. In fact, it may be best for everyone that you find your slaves somewhere other than Bretonia, if only because this is the only house actively fighting Gallia - and we both know that they will go after Malta as soon as they can. Sabotaging your own wall is rarely a sound tactical move, especially with Malta's recurring... population troubles.
"Actually there would prove little benefit in deriving physical slaves from the Bretonian nation - as you say, Bretonia is a benign and proud state, with a sense of honour, physical might (and sadly, physical fallacies) comparable to our own. Besides, you can not beat and temper a yielding, permissive automaton out of a man of war, even less so a person with their back against a wall, with little to survive for or indeed little persevering. Pride can be crushed yes, but survivalism? It's the survivalists that will be the end of you. Indeed Santini - if you do not find this observation insulting - perhaps your yourself are one of that breed? You make for quite the societal Darwinist - always doing what's essential to further you and yours? Which brings me to my next point…"
"Bretonia is the Nacion's current shield wall, this is true; but as with all phalanxes it's indomitable populace will eventually tire. Troy was ground to dust despite the perseverance of it's inhabitants - a superior force will always overwhelm the minor, valour set entirely aside. So pray Santini, when will you run when Newcastle suffers an identical fate; Sprague perhaps? And from there where - the Molloys have sided with the Gallic Kingdom as opposed to the Bretonian Commonwealth; the Omega bolt will be obscured to you. Liberty? Without a jump-drive you will be sorely pressed, as it is quite possible the GRN are aware of the old Cardimine-routejump between their newest annex and the Libertonian border. Rheinland? And what if the Rheinstag proves supportive of the invader? My friend, you are in a pincer, and it is quite possible that you (or yours) will live to see it snap tight."
*clicks fingers for emphasis*
"As befits a man of your considerable experience, you are right again Santini! This time on on the issue of Malta - surely Charles and his acolytes will not tolerate the source of the primary illicit commodity in Gallia today to coexist behind a shield of mines? Malta is only a jump away from 81 - and whilst the human cost for Charles would prove astronomical the Nacion cannot - will not - survive the endeavours of both our bast*rd Corsair brethren and the Royal House. So where will you eventually lay your boot, should this situation eventually arise? Would you Santini, die with the Bretonians in the refugee-camps of Sprague or in a blaze of nuclear fire with the remainder of the orange dream?"
"This is my final query; as internal struggle renders us ever weaker, as our enemies collect upon all walls, will you defend our Rome if it ever comes within the realm of collapsing? Will you fly to the aid of whichever Romulus stands valiantly against the hordes of Odacer, and live (or die) with your people?"
"As I state -staying in Bretonia may grant you a few more years; you may even live to be an aged man, weak and enfeebled. Thus Bretonia (as of present) is the safest place for you and your family and offers the height of security. As you say, you require neither money nor cardimine; the only two substances I could feasibly offer you in coming to work with us, so discount those items and view them as irrelevant - they are not required here. What I'm curious to know is, if the Maltese state does ever run upon dire soil, would you take a place by our side against the Gallic invaders, and thus by the side of Bretonia, your adopted nation, likewise?"
"I realise my offer is meagre - I come only to present the possibility of a glorious death, one that almost certainly spell my own end before it spells yours. But think on this for a moment, and reflect:"
*grins vulpinely*
"…When Rome fell, what phoenix rose in their place?"
unidentified data packet received. accept? > y / n Sender: Serena Santini
Emilio is tired. The last few days have been rather stressful for us, and you aren't helping matters any. So today, you get me instead.
Your last attempts are to appeal to patriotism and glory. A desire to protect Malta, because he is from Malta.
Patriotism, "Ajax", is an utterly worthless emotion. It fosters a desire to protect something for no reason but the lucky coincidence of birth, and in so doing breeds more war for less reason.
So, let's see what your planet has bred.
Emilio. The constant warring between petty, worthless men has finally worn him down to the point where he cannot care. He once had a dream of a Malta that would deserve her place in Sirius - but it is incompatible with her people.
Tiana. Her life has been ruled by death. At first, people thought our holdings would be easy targets, and when caught thought killing her would be easy. Eventually, she had become so inured to killing that she took a more proactive approach, eliminating those that had proven themselves our enemies. And she never thought of it as being at all unusual.
Santiago. His parents were killed in some meaningless fight over land. He was left without a home, forced to survive on whatever he could steal until we adopted him.
But that's just my family. Let's look to other Outcasts. Where do we begin?
Perhaps with Aurelio Contari. A man who seized power after his brother was killed in a slave uprising - and given the subsequent events, it's quite obvious that he had his brother killed. And not for any ideological differences, he just wanted to seize power. And after this, he has managed to raise a loyal army.
That is Malta. A land of avarice and blind ambition. A land where, despite a frighteningly low birth rate and a large portion of our populace being completely infertile, murder and war are considered acceptable means to pursue your goals.
That is not a nation worth protecting.
You have my answer. You have my husband's answer. And you really do not want my children to answer.
Find your support elsewhere. It will not come from us.
"Well then.... (Serena, may I call you that?), as you infer, we have little left to say to each other. I will respect your privacy if not your opinion and will cause you no future grievance."
*A pause.*
"Perhaps the most telling aspect is the mention of disownment within your communication - Malta is yours (or your relative's) no longer. Whilst I remain mildly flattered by your description of Malta as 'my' personal planet, is it that neither, any more than you can stand representational of the Bretonian State - perhaps you will die by their sides instead of our own. Regardless, we both have our respective affairs to attend to, including 'Emilio's', evident fatigue".
"...So I will return to the grindstone of the Nacion Maltese, killing, stealing and slogging my way through the morass as is the nature of our people. Enjoy your reconditioning."
*Sucks deep upon his incense burner, before nulling the visual feed, audio recording still.*
"...However do you not think that our people, our sordid, infighting, whoring people deserve as much of a chance for self-redemption as any other Sirian citizen? Even to a slave master this appears utilitarian; you believe that Malta should be sacrificed because of it's own destructive tendencies?" *Exhales* "...May God find pardon in that, alumni."
"Gracias Santinis, you are indeed an intriguing example of our race and evidently it lies beyond my powers to persuade you otherwise. - may you find what you seek in life".