A Return to Form

[Thexare]

The Santini estate on Planet Cambridge was a pleasant retreat from the family's old life, and yet Emilio was restless. He had plenty of money, ownership of a small fleet of starships, but... something was missing.

He did not have power. He had grown quite accustomed to the influence he once wielded over Malta. And try as he might to retire, his thoughts always returned to his holdings on Malta. His younger daughter was there with him at the estate, but no one else. His adopted son Santiago was accompanying his wife on a shopping trip, to ensure her safety - caution was always the Santini way.

"You're thinking about Malta again," Tiana said. It was not a question; the two were much alike in many ways. She knew him better than almost anyone. "You want to go home."

"... This is home," he said flatly. "That, at least, is what I have tried to tell myself. I know Mia doesn't want us to go back. But I cannot sit idle here."

"Should I retrieve my sister, then?"

"No, let her be," Emilio said, barely letting Tiana finish her question.

"She's been following that Order agent around. That could be a problem, you know."

"Tell me, Tiana, do you believe in the spirit cults?"

"Shoot me if I ever do."

"As I thought. And she is happy with him, she is at peace. I will not take that from her," he declared, making it clear that there was no room for discussion. "This thing we do, not everyone is suited to the life. And I don't expect her to get in the way."

Just then, a Kusari man walked into the room holding a somewhat sizable box. "Package from Mia," he said, putting it onto the table and opening it. On top, there was a letter.

You're going back to Malta. I know I can't stop you.

A puppeteer is nothing without his puppets, after all.

Don't forget your humanity. Don't be one of those who throws lives away simply because they aren't Maltese. The Maltese are capable of being so much more than they are now.

I had something made for Tiana, Santiago, Aina and Ayumu, to remember the times when we all flew together. They should fit.

We may never meet again, but know that I'm happy and I hope you will be too.

~Mia Santini
Mirage White-2

The room was silent for a full minute after everyone read the letter. Finally, Tiana spoke up. "How the hell does she keep doing that?" It was a rhetorical question, of course - no one knew, and yet everyone knew. Tiana took after their father in terms of demeanor and plotting, but Mia had far surpassed both at reading people.

Under the letter were five folded flight jackets, each with a distinctive patch on the shoulder.

"She does know I know about Serena, doesn't she?" Emilio asked, looking at his daughter and son-in-law.

"I think she knows you know," Ayumu responded.

"Let's... cut that chain off before it goes any further," Tiana added, not wanting to complicate things further. "It's probably another game to her."

[Thexare]

Every Don had his own approach to his work. Some employed extreme violence and the threat of the same, some wielded money as others would a gun. Some would attempt a diplomatic approach, but often would not succeed. Emilio Santini was one who favored quiet action, which rarely elevated one to his position. Caution was the order of the day, for him. Business deals, influence via patronage, and informants were what kept his operations going. And when the subtle hand failed, the silent knife succeeded. Truthfully, he hated the need to kill, but unfortunately it was often exactly that - a need. One he likened to stomping out a cinder before it becomes an inferno.

He would often learn of upstart Maltese pilots and entrepreneurs, and gained some influence over their work by sponsoring them. Get a promising pilot a better ship, set aside some unused land for a new operation, and if your man succeeds he brings you with him. Never was this more successful than with a young Kusari man, Ayumu Ishida. He arrived on Malta with a beaten-down Scimitar derivative, proved his capability by assassinating one of Emilio's enemies, and found his ship completely overhauled within three days.

From there Ishida made a name for himself in recon and, later, in managing the delicate diplomacy between Bretonia and Malta. The Ghosts of Razgriz, then Malta's most famous and well-regarded combat force, took notice and integrated his Mirage with their fighter wing as the 313th Special Operations Squadron. And through Ishida's rise, Emilio came to prominence.

Unfortunately, no matter how rich this made him, he never had the influence over Maltese culture that he wanted. He had some power, some influence, but not enough to bring about the progress he wanted. More bellicose voices always prevailed, leading Malta - inevitably, by Emilio's estimation - into civil war.

And so he left. He hid out on Cambridge for a time, doing some sufficiently-legal business to keep his wealth growing, but his thoughts always returned to home. Malta needed a leader with vision. Malta needed him.

Aboard the Anki freighter Sunrise, Emilio found his thoughts straying to history to distract from the boredom and discomfort of the trip. Of course they could have taken a more comfortable ship, like the Democritus or one of the Dorados accompanying them, but those are an obvious target for assassination. Intelligence indicated that Malta had calmed, but he knew there may well be those who would not want his return.

Reluctantly flying an old but impeccably-maintained Switchblade as escort, Tiana Santini-Ishida did not want to return to Malta. Unlike her father, she had written off the Maltese as a hopeless case, and gave them about five generations before total societal collapse. Spending time with her sister gave her a lot to think about - about slavery, the drug trade, the nature of the people of Malta. She knew Mia was far smarter than she let on, and she raised a lot of good points.

She had another concern too, that Order agent that Mia had been hanging around. Tiana wasn't entirely clear on the nature of their relationship, but it would be a problem if she couldn't get him away from the Taus. No matter how that fight ended, Mia would be heartbroken. And that was unacceptable.

The other fighters accompanying the convoy were an old CLH Shamshir flown by Ayumu Ishida and a pristine Sabre flown by Santiago Mirez. Just as with Tiana and Mia, the two were very different people, united by common ground - in this case, they had a job to do. The security of their father-in-law and adoptive father respectively was paramount. There were no other concerns. Tiana found this particular quirk of her husband's maddening. As far as the rest of the world could tell, he simply didn't have opinions. He defined himself by his work. Privately? Tiana was never sure. Sometimes he could even hide his feelings from her, though he didn't often try. Sometimes it seemed instinctive. Old habits, she figured, and she couldn't really begrudge him for it. She wasn't so different.

Their trip through the Taus was uneventful. The IMG seemed almost... run-down. Their convoys were positioned to bolt if the Maltese procession even blinked at them funny, but the typical eagerness of their escort pilots seemed to be completely gone. Perhaps it was the fake transponders, but there were only two CLH fighters remaining in operation that Tiana knew of, most had been replaced with the more modern Bayonet. One was escorting the convoy and the other was tucked away in the docking bay of the Pilgrim-class liner intentionally positioned as the head of the fleet. After all the harassment from Mirage, they had to be on alert about that fighter.

But then, the Gallic occupation couldn't be good for morale. In a way, she pitied the Miners. Their escorts were capable pilots, though a step below the Gas Miners in her estimation, but they only knew raids. That was what set them apart from the GMG: they had never known war until Gallia brought it to them.

Perhaps there would be room for business down the road. Evict Gallia, convince the Miners it's in their interest to not interdict the Outcasts, get some solid material supply for industry.

Now Mia had her thinking like a civilian. Worse, a politician.

[Thexare]

They were loathe to admit it, but Tiana and Ayumu had developed a preference for civilian life. Or at least, civilian enough. They never stayed completely idle. Freelance work on occasion to aid Bretonia with recon, tracking Corsair activity in the Cambridge system, rounding up the occasional artifact smuggler planetside when the BPA couldn't, that sort of thing.

But there was another element to it. Everyone working for them in Cambridge was doing so voluntarily, and that proved to be... comforting. After a few months to adjust, they were able to relax more, no longer having to monitor all their workers for signs of rebellion. And any competition would usualy just try to outdo them, or find some legal nonsense to bother them over, either of which was far less lethal than the competition on Malta. Perhaps that's why, when all of Don Emilio Santini's vessels had landed and moored, one Switchblade and Shamshir remained ready for immediate launch. Sure, Tiana could say it was because she wanted to be ready to launch in an emergency, but at this point would she really believe that?

Every day found her at Hangar OF2-39, the private hangar owned by her and her husband, performing routine maintenance and performance tweaks on her Switchblade.

"Normally that's only done once a month, Tiana," an older voice said from the corner. "Is something wrong with the ship?"

Tiana closed the access panel she was poking around behind and turned the box she was sitting on so she would face her father. "No, father, I just..." she began, but the words failed her.

"You are uncomfortable here on Malta. You live here, you are welcomed here... but in your heart, I suspect this is no longer your home." Tiana would have expected her father to be hurt, or at least disappointed, by coming to this conclusion, but that was not so. He seemed almost pleased by this. "I was a killer before I was a man, Tiana," he explained, pulling up a crate and sitting down across from her. "At thirteen I murdered the man who assassinated your grandfather Cecilio. And before that I killed his guards over the course of a three-week campaign. I protected you from that. I kept you out of the life until you were an adult to spare you that fate, to let you know life before you would know death." He smiled gently, a rare thing for a Don. "This was inevitable. You know life. Indeed, you know many lives - smuggler, thief, killer, guardian. Having sampled many lives, you are one who would protect. And Malta..." He sighed, the understanding paining him more than he would show. "Malta is ill-suited to the woman you have become. Our games of petty political powergrabs and self-serving ambition do not appeal to you... and never have."

Tiana closed her eyes and lowered her head. She had considered the idea, of course, but always managed to push it to the back of her mind. "What do I do?" she finally asked, her voice breaking slightly.

"Go. There are places in Sirius for someone like you. Bretonia needs all the help she can get. Natio Octavarium has re-established themselves and will need intelligent women like you. The Confederation of Freeports has just recently disbanded, and the Freeports lack organized defense. Somewhere out there, somewhere in Sirius, your true home awaits."

"But what about you?" Tiana asked, sounding almost ready to cry.

Emilio shook his head. "You don't need to worry about me. I have a beautiful wife and all the money I need. All that remains is for my youngest daughter to be happy. I can retire, or I can start business again. I haven't decided. But this is my home. This is where I belong. You have a brighter future away from the greed and turmoil that Malta breeds." Emilio stood, helped Tiana to her feet, and hugged her. "Everything will be fine, Tiana. Where you go, Ayumu will follow. And we'll stay in touch." They stepped apart, and Emilio added a question. "Speaking of Ayumu, where is he?"

"Getting replacement power cells," Tiana replied, calmer now. "Utsusemi is a very old fighter. He should probably look into a Bayonet. Or at least a modern Scimitar. But, old habits..."