Name : Kerrigan
First name : Oniyuushi
Race : Mixed Libertonian/Kusarian
Height : 5’7
Weight : unknown
Hair color : Dark Brown
Eye color : Blue
Born : 781, Sirius Time, Leeds (age, 37)
PERSONAL LOG
I came to life on Planet Leeds from a Libertonian father and a mother of Kusarian descent, so anybody could say I was homeless from the beginning. As far as I can tell, the only country I’m sure my genes don’t come from is Rheinland, although now you can make it two since they discovered Gallia not so long ago. During all my childhood I tried to figure out what exactly I was, where my allegiance lied, and I eventually made peace with myself when I realized this didn’t matter to me.
But it did for a long time. How could it have been different, when I was raised my all life by stories about far countries and ancestors I never knew? My father was never enough proud about his dad, emphasizing his so-called battle experience and medals, although I never saw one of them or him either. My mother was more discrete about her kusarian heritage, but today I believe her father, my grandfather, was a Blood Dragon somewhere in the border worlds. She came to Bretonia when he died, and that’s where she met my dad, who had quit Liberty without money to try and make a living off Leeds.
Leeds was, and still is, not the perfect place to grow up. I guess I’d have catched cancer if I had stayed all my life in the shadows of its gigantic manufactories and processing plants. Life was harsh and hard, but I never complained as my father made progressively his way up. I turned eighteen when the Nomad Wars started, and that’s the time when I left my parents to go on my way. I didn’t know at that time that I’d never see them again.
I first went to New York, and yes it feels like a cliche. At that time, everybody was going to New York, and still is, like it’s the core of the sector, the cultural and economic magnet of Sirius. I didn’t exactly know what I was looking for. I guess, a part of me wanted to find some family roots, a meaning to my life. But what I know now is that I wanted to free myself from these very roots and finally start my life as a young adult.
During ten years and more, I drifted from systems to systems, ships to ships, and more likely brothels to bars. Since I had no real anchor at any place, I started to enjoy being a pariah and a zoner. Space became my home, and I felt far away from war, nationalist considerations and corporate interests. The only money I was making, from scavenging wrecks or doing some quick jobs, was used to travel aboard passenger transports and barely live. But I felt alive for the first time of my life.
A year ago, I finally happened to land on Leeds after so many years of travels and exploration. I remembered that yellowish, brownish, shady atmosphere used to make me want to vomit. That day, I did vomit. But not because of the fumes from the near factories and plants, no. Because I learnt my parents had been killed by some rebel workers who found it interesting to seize the opportunity of the Kusari occupation to launch some faky revolution. That day more than any other I understood that I had not my place in this world full of stupidity and hopelessness from all sides. That day, I felt myself neither Kusarian, nor Libertonian, nor Bretonian.
After I buried my parents, it was in 816 ST, I refused to follow their lead and used their heritage to buy my first ship : a Libertonian Rhino El-Hil27. It was not very sexy but it was a first. I was all alone in this crappy metal moving coffin, doing only the longest trade routes, like I was punishing myself. I know it was the best training. I learnt to always consider my ship as both my home and a part of my own body, ready to react under the slightest stimuli.
And here I am now, captain and main pilot of the “Libresari”(Liberty – Bretonia – Kusari, symbol of the melting pot I do represent), a DL Border World transport cargo ship, commanding a full crew of 6 of which a co-pilot and second-in-command, a navigator, a weapon adviser, a cargo manager, a doc’ and a tech. I consider myself free from every political, legal, religious and ethnic boundary, for as they say, “space is the last frontier”. My name is Kerrigan, and I’m a FREELANCER.
Connecting to Libresari Memory Core...
Encryption Medium...
Please select Data...
Log n17
Long time I didn't write something down this personal memo. I was too busy trading, smuggling, bribing, and more likely being robbed by almost everybody in the Sirius sector.
My first response was obviously to hire an escort. I first encountered one Kusarian Freelancer called Sora Tokiha. He was drowning his sorrow in a beer at the Pueblo Station bar in Colorado. "Fresh off the boat", my ancestors would probably say. To me, he was just one poor bastard life didn't smile at. He explained to me he was doing some meagre missions for Ageira, even if he wasn't quite sure he wanted to work for them. He needed a ship. I needed an escort. This so called Tokiha became my first employee.
Any trader knows two escort ships are better than one, especially nowadays. I found the second one on New London, after a long and stressful day of work. The name was Kenneth Monroe, a.k.a "Roe". Born on Cork before it got nuked, he was not the kind of "mate" you would usually find in a Bretonian Police area. Again, one poor bastard stuck without a ship (looking to avenge his honor against his former boss on top of it all !). I wore my Good Samaritan outfit, and bought him a ship in exchange for his service.
And here I was, with my crew and my two employees. They were not just mercenaries. Despite their differences (race, diverse affiliations, etc), they quickly became more, and I do now consider them as part of my "team". I don't know yet if this little venture will be able to expand, but I'm more than hopeful. If a Kusarian, A Libertonian and a Molly can prosper together, I believe anything is possible. Anything profitable.
I found myself in a position where I had to choose between being an ordinary trader, or to fully embrace the life of a smuggler, and its consequences. It was not a clear choice at all. I never even asked myself this question. It's only see it now, in retrospect.
You start shipping a bunch of stuff. Next thing you know, it's not oxygen anymore, but it's a restricted product, like, say, plutonium. Come this far, you say to yourself : "Why not Cardamine ? Counterfeits ?". The boundaries between legality and lawlessness are so fuzzy. In fact, they actually do change.
I've always considered myself as a man of principle, but not a man of law. The reason is simple : WHAT IS THE LAW ? I mean, there's as many laws as nations, corporations, houses and whatnots. I think the notion of law itself is flawed. Only things that can rule mankind are friendship, honesty, fidelity and interest.
I happen to do business with many people some consider unlawful. Unlawful doesn't mean dishonest nor untruthful. I know some of these so called "criminals" who actually do more good than many "lawful" pilots out there.
Anyway, I'm working on a project that could really do some good to the smuggling business. I'll develop this in my next log. Kerrigan out.
It's been so long I've recorded anything on these logs, and many things have happened. In good. In bad. And yet, I look back and doesn't regret a single thing. Life throws at you many ordeals and foes. You just have to get back up, cherish your own, and never give up. And maybe, one day, through the darkness you'll see a bright sunbeam.
Two years ago I lost everything. My ship, my mates, my business, my contacts. I wandered in space, from stations to stations, looking for people hiring mercenaries or in need of a quick trade. That reminded me of when I was still a young adventurer, bouncing around the Sirius sector, except this time I had not much hope to live with.
And then, something happened that I had not planned. My little sunbeam through the darkness. I met folks who, like me, have had their lot of hardships and drama. A nation estranged from any other nations. A bunch of people just eager to live out of harm's way, outside jurisdictions, far from these overused concepts of war, nationalism and patriotism. A stateless people. Yet completely, utterly, free.