"As far as i know, it's all up to him, this... this really, really fu***d up guy." - Marsh said coldly, fixing his eyes on the piles of papers on his desk.
Kevin Marsh, Editor-in-chief of the "Bretonias Broadcasting Corporation" (BBC), the largest media house in Bretonia system, audibly contemplated about his latest venture. This business move that could bring him a lot of readers, viewers, listeners, in another word money... Money that will make him rise on Corporation ladder. Money that will seal his position in the firm. Money that can not be count.
But, on the other hand, everything can go down the drain. His reputation of the best Editor in the history of BBC. His bank accounts. His houses, ships, lands. His wife, kids. His mistresses... His life! Everything is on the stake now.
Earlier today, he signed a contract with Marko, aka The Orange Philosopher. Unexperienced, young journalist, that just came out of college. Well, to be honest, he's only unexperienced in journalism. Dossier on the Marsh's desk, which covers adorn The Bretonia Police Authority shield, reveals very problematic past of his new acquisition:
Marko was born on Planet Malta. He grew up in a family of master artists, where his life in early childhood was directed towards arts, literature, painting, music and philosophy. He's family is very well connected with families of all Outcast Dons, because of a military past and activity of his ancestors in the Maltese Navy Intelligence and also in other formal and informal Outcast factions. Using this connections he enrolled the most prestigious college in Sirius sector, The Cambridge, where he studied journalism and political science.
At the moment he arrived on Planet Cambridge, he became the main link between Outcasts cardamine supplies and Bretonians youth. Many time he was arrested for promoting and selling Orange Essence (the name he likes to use for this drug) on campus, Cambridge night clubs and streets, but influence of his family kept him above the law and out of the courtroom. Bretonian Police Authority only could mange to sentence his numerous dealers, but that was of a little use, because the new recruits reappears so often. Very fast, the word about him has spread, and he got a nickname - The Orange Philosopher.
During the studies he became more politically active, arranging massive students protests mainly against Bretonian and Liberty government and their view of life as he said. Because of this protests, he was often associated with Liberty Rogues and Lane Hackers. Of course, he firmly denied this allegations, accusing media houses and politicians for deliberately undermining youth rights to express new point of view which is foundation to pure and innocent ideology that shall replace existing conservatism.
His life almost ended after unsuccessful bomb attack on Cambridge Research Station facilities. After several months recovering in hospital, in which time his lawyers managed to clear his name, by accusing Cryer Pharmaceuticals as they picked Marko as a slaughter goat. Their claims was that Marko got injured during his spring brake on planet Leeds, when Kusari Naval Forces attacked this planet. And, what a coincidence, but security tapes from Cambridge Research Station, mysteriously disappeared.
Under the impression of nearly death experience, he organized student group which called them self Wir und der Tod, and their main activities was encouraging young people not to be afraid of death and actively engage in fight against Bretonia and Liberty government and their allied factions. This was his main known occupation, beside praising and dealing cardamine, until he graduated.
Some would say that signing this druggie is a stupid move for such a well known editor, but I have a feeling. - Mr. March thought out loud, I am feeling it in my guts! My whole career, my 35 years as a top journalist, I relied on this sense and it never let me down. I can recognize a story opportunity in a pitch black dark.
Mr. Kevin March has opinion that Bretonian and the rest of Sirius systems are everything but the paradise. Ideal, that launched sleeper ships nine centuries ago from a distant solar system, this days are coming to an end. Utopistic wish of allied nations living in harmony and peace, leaving war so many light years behind, started to shatter even before it took it's growth. Years of interaction with politicians, military and police personnel, pirates and criminals, miners, farmers and ordinary, common people in Sirius, assured him that human being needs war. Destruction that combat produces are making them to feel alive. Blood thirst is part of human DNA.
But, not everyone can go to war. Someone have to stay and grow food, raise children, mine minerals, collect gas. In Sirius system exist very large number of occupations that doesn't have anything with killing other people. So, this is where BBC steps up. BBC will provide the ultimate story for their audience Dairy of a pilot. Diary will bring smell of burned human flesh mixed with fuel combustion, ripped metal and laser sparks into every house in Sirius system. This is a recipe for quenching human primal urge. And that's the main reason Mr. March decided to hire Marko.
Allright, You put down your proposal and now it's my turn to talk. - very calmly this words flew through the air, until they scattered all around nervous employer. Marko was sitting on the wooden bench in front of the Cambridge History Museum. I have two requirements. First, You'll transfer money to my account for a new ship, every time I got blown away. BBC's editor wanted to confront this very high demand but, at the moment, he realized that there is no point for doing that. This therms are nonnegotiable. Second, You will periodically publish my essays about the cardamine in your newspapers. They will be called 'The story about the Essence' and You will not rewrite a single letter. - Slowly reaching for his pocket to take his daily portion of orange treat, he continued, If You fulfill my conditions,then I'll carry out my part of arrangement and send You stories about a life in outer space.
The Orange Philosopher then went to his apartment, to get ready for his space odyssey.
We are all dying -- and we're gonna be dead for a long time...