// This was not originally written for public consumption, but as a collection of short sequences to help me focus Seb.
// It has been somewhat cleaned up, marked up, and fleshed out.
// Posted here because I felt I wanted to add more of Seb in the TAZ quest story, and this makes it easier to fight the urge to be seen =)
// The death of Jonathan was not originally in the story, so it's also somewhat retrofitted.
// Comments (by pm or other thread) welcome. I might append log of recent events.
Freeport 7, 795 A.S.
"Jonah, Seb! Dinner!" Sarah Wrath's voice rang out, and the sound of running feet could soon be heard. As she stepped to the
side of the door, two young boys with dark curly hair and dirty clothes barged in, passing with a breathless 'Hi Mom' and
continuing to the kitchen, where they, since Father was present quieted down and proceeded to the sink to wash their hands.
As they sat down at the table, Father raised his voice "Let us say Grace to all the Gods that watch over us, and allow us to
live our lives in peace with food on our table."
The boys squirmed - aged twelve and ten, they were becoming uncomfortably aware that most people though Father was strange,
even insane, and any reminders on his firm believes in his numerous gods was making them feel akward. Still, they were also
aware that Father did command respect among his fellows, and they were proud that he knew the movers and shakers of the
station.
Somewhere in the Sigmas, 805 A.S.
Sebastian cursed vehemently as he tried to get his bearings. That last detonation had sent him spinning away from the station,
and his vacsuit's thrusters whined as they steadied him and slowed him to a relative stop to the astroid field.
"Jonah, I'm gonna friggin' KILL you if you do that again!" he shouted in his intercom, only to be answered by the soft
chuckle of his younger brother. "Now, it was not that bad, was it? It's not my fault that these booby traps seem to be
made by the gifted love-child of Eris and Loki."
In his mind, Seb had to give it to Jonathan. The mission to strip this old wreck of a station had seemed like a bright idea,
with Jonah's skill in explosives and his own in security systems, it should have been a breeze. I would have been a
breeze if not the previous owners - whoever they might have been - had not been absolutely paranoid and created a muti-layered
defence network the Rheinland military would have been proud of.
Ever since Father had gifted them tickets to New Tokyo on Jonathan's 15th birthday and practically shoved them into the
shuttle, they had been adrift. They had already been on New Tokyo, gawking at the sights, when the news of FP7's destruction
was broadcast. With no home, no family, and little money in their pockets, they took any jobs they could find. Their
combination of skills that ranged from space-craft service to security systems and zero-g welding served them well, and by now
they had their own Spatial (named 'Sarah' in honor of their mother), which they used to get around and do odd jobs and
collect salvage. They had little plans for the future, and talked less of the past. While Sebastian had finally accepted the
loss of his parents, Jonathan had not, and sometimes the younger brother talked about joining the Order, whom he had
researched extensively.
"Jonah, come out and we'll take a shift off. Need a clear head if we're going to crack this nut"
Seb activated his suit's thrusters, and moved towards the 'Sarah' to get some badly needed rest.
En route to FP11, 806 A.S.
It was not a pretty ship, the small freighter 'This Beastie', but it was his. His first real freighter, and with a hold that
was positively enormous compare to anything else he had ever flown. Hell, he could probably fit all of the other ships he had
flown in the hold, at the same time!
Still, Sebastians delight was mingled with regret. Jonathan had finally made up his mind, and a week before the purchas of the
freighter, he had taken Sarah and left for the Omicrons, seeking the Order to wage war on the aliens that had destroyed
Freeport 7. He had tried to convince his brother to join, but for some reason Sebastian had been stubborn in his refusal.
Thinking back on it, it almost seemed like a touch of destiny - he had been so sure that going with Jonathan would be
the wrong thing to do. Now, he was not so sure. While running supplies to the Freeports in his new ship brought in profits he
could only have dreamed of previously, he missed the company of his brother.
Dublin system, 806 A.S.
'Damn, damn, damn!'
Sebastian desperatly pushed his thrusters to max. Damn BPA are getting all too good at this - he thought to himself - I really need to find another route.
He had been cruisng along between the jumpholes in Leeds when the BPA patrol had jumped him. Not accepting that the software storages in his hold were all
properly licensed, they were now attempting to get him to stop before he could make it to the Molly base. Judging the distance to Arranmore and accepting
the inevitable, he cut his engines and opened his comms. "Alright, dammit, I'll pay up. Not that I know why you care so much about Liberty software
companies, mind you".
It was going to be a tough month, making up for the losses made today. Oh well, he'd heard of another route - longer, but less chance of interception. Maybe
he should try it next time.
Gran Canaria, 808 A.S
The news hit him like a hammer. Dead. The last remaining member of his family - dead. Like the rest of them, slaughtered by
the aliens. Unlike the rest of them, killed while fighting them in their own territory. All dead, wether fighting or not...
"Canaria control, this is Zoner freighter 'This Beastie', I'm undocking from the moor"
"Negative Captain Wrath, loading is not completed and... WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, SEB?"
Mooring connections, loading guides and cables screamed silently in the void, then streached, bent and broke as the freighter
activated thrusters while still moored.
"Canaria control, this is Sebastian Wrath. I'm... going away."
There were no further communications as the freighter accelerated away from the planet, trailing debris.
Somewhere beyond the Edge
Void. Everywhere Void. He was hanging in his vacsuit on the edge of Sirius, with only the Void as company. The Void was good.
He would never lose the Void. Sometimes, he would make a trip to one of the Freeports or pirate bases on the Edge to stock up
on supplies, but he always returned here, beyond the Edge. Void. It was his compaion, and in the Void there were no pain.
--time passes--
There were voices in the Void, if you listened long enough. They told tales, but the tales were mere visions of memories,
ghosts of visions. While he could not hear clearly, they soothed him.
--time passes--
He listening to the voices in the void. They were... almost there. He was quite certain he was turning insane, from the
looks he now got during his brief visits to inhabited space, but he was also sure that the voices were real... they were just
not quite here. He strained his perceptions to hear. The voices spoke of divinity.
--time passes--
He remembered Father. No - he had the memories of Father. He remembered the memories of Father. Of his Father. Of dedicated
prophets that had never been toched by the divine, of frauds and tricksters that had nonetheless done the work of the divine.
Priests of many denominations, serving the divine, never understanding it. It is... impossible, to understand the divine. Not
quite here. They don't know us. They want to understand us. Fnord. Asgard. Discordia. Golden Apple. Greatest Salesman Ever Alive. Thor. Eris. DIVINITY.
VOID
Corfu, 813 A.S.
Sebastian shook his head. He had... memories. Not all of those memories was his memories, but they felt familiar nonetheless.
He shook his head again, trying to clear the fog. It felt like he was awakening from a dream. According to ship log he had
arrived to Cofu a few days ago, but he remembered little of the time since his arrival. Or... from before his arrival. All
his memories seemed to be old, and intermingled with memories that had an otherness to them.
No matter - there were profits to be made - and somewere, there was a mission waiting for him.
John Johnson - Master of Synth.Foods-Convoy|049
Hans Adler - Synth Foods escort wing
//Still on the backstory.
//Just slightly edited to what Seb became, as opposed to what I planned him to be
//Next post will probably be brand new un-retrofitted! =)
Diamond mining station, Rheinland, 814 A.S.
The interior of the bar was dark, and the patrons seemed to be interested in only one thing - drinking.
Well, I guess if I spend my life mining diamonds for a tuppence I'd be trying to forget about it as well.
He made his way to the bar and, after failing to order a stout, settled for a beer and retired to a small table in the rear.
As he brought up the latest CNS headlines on his terminal, a two men approached.
"You ze prophet, eh?"
Sebastian looked up at the men. Although he was well trained from a lifetime of heavy work, those guys probably outweighed
him by ten pounds each.
"I claim to be no prophet - however I do speak of the divine from time to time, when asked."
The men looked at each other, and Seb catched a glance at a smaller man, clothed just a bit too well for this place. Ah, so I've been targeted by the thought police, have I?
"You been talking about your filthy gods on this station, eh? We don't want your gods. We want you gone."
One of the men put his closed fist on the table, and leaned over.
"We've had your type here before, and you all are the same. Come here and try to bring good Rheinlanders away from ze
Gottkanzler"
Sebastian looked them over, and felt the void and chaos coarse through him, as it always did when he approahed a conflict, an Edge.
He smiled softly "I'm hardly the same as those others... you see one thing is that your Chancellor may very well be a god although I
don't really think so " - he raised his left hand in a gesture to preempt their answer - " and the other thing that makes me
different is that I have taken no wows, and I cheat."
A whining noise was heard has the neurogun in his right hand went to full auto under the table, hitting both men in the groin.
As they gasped and then silently folded over and struck the floor, nervous systems overloaded, he rose with the gun in his
hand pointed to the floor, and adressed the well-dressed man in the background.
"And you, my good sir, better take care of your goons when they wake up. They may be in considerable pain."
The man hesitated, and as he looked into Sebastian's eyes, black irises giving them a feel of void, his sholders slumped and
he stepped out of the way.
With that, he stepped out of the bar and disappeared into the streets.
John Johnson - Master of Synth.Foods-Convoy|049
Hans Adler - Synth Foods escort wing