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...
You get told this often enough but cannot truly fathom it until you are out there yourself, in your own ship as you speed through the utter vastness that it is. Sure, I had been in a shuttle before, but that was no fun. We didnt even get attacked by bandits, which I find are common things in this part of the world.
In my yearning for exploration and the freedom of it all I ended up finding a Junker base tucked away in a debris field. They seemed friendly enough (unfortunately I couldnt say that for the Liberty Rogues that patrolled the area) and a ship caught my eye, the Combat Service Vehicle. It was relatively cheap and had a sizeable cargo while still being able to pack a punch. It was the perfect ship with which to start my fledgling space career.
A day later, after finding easy trade runs in the Liberty System, I was already tiring of the repetitive scenery, and decided that something new was in order. I ventured out into what they called the Independent Systems. The borders between the four houses territory. Cortez was the first I visited, to find that pirates out here were a lot tougher than in the core systems.
Lane Hackers seemed to cause most of the problems, but the CSV did come through and after a dazzling display of firepower I wondered if I could ever settle into the life of a trader. Most likely not.
A week or so later and I had discovered Kusari. They didnt seem to have any grudge against me, but I suppose my unmarked CSV didnt bring any. I supposed this is where Id be spending quite a bit of my time, if I hoped to learn anything of my father. Planet New Tokyo was swarming with people, and yet still had a demand for tourists. I saw the potential here. Tourists would pay well to come to New Tokyo. I was set for the next few weeks.
Soon I had quite a few credits to my name and decided that a CSV was not for me. A fighter model had caught my eye, the Stinger, they called it. Equipped with my new ship and bolstered confidence, now was the time to contact the Kusari Naval Command.