Lying here, while considering my predicament, I may as well lay down some of the thoughts flying through my mind. Where to start?
Yes, where did it start? As far as I can remember, I didn’t plan this, it just happened, how do you think yourself into an interstellar war? And that’s just what happened, life was good, it was easy, and that’s the best thing, easy.
So, the start, well, I began at the academy, flight school, worked my way through to active duty to fighters and survived, yes I know fighter command is known as just the meat shield, but its more than that to those that fly them, we are the best of the best. In numbers we can bring down anything (well almost....), from there after MANY missions and still being alive, promotion was inevitable.
Fleet here I come! corvette duty, patrol the borders, quick strike/counter strike when needed, always in numbers, almost like being back in a fighter...... after showing some talent promotion comes my way again, bypassing the destroyers, scout ships (lucky boys n girls, the freedom of flight!), frigates, straight to cruiser command. Now this is something I really got my teeth into, speed, firepower and fighters, what more could you dream for?
We knew others were out there, of course we knew, who else were we fighting? We all looked the same, well apart from those that didn’t.... and of the two races that didn’t, you killed one without ever seeing their faces, parasitical, taking over dead worlds that just atrophied, easy pickings if you had the fleet and manpower. Or the others, the ones without faces, suicidal to attack, we don’t talk about them.
Of the faces we knew and recognised they were the most dangerous, who is friend who is foe? Alliances made and broken, many times our systems allied themselves with others, sometimes because they were first contact [AOSS] some through strength and necessity [XIII, WOLF] from common ties [BEER] to true friendship [FIX], but I race ahead of myself, all this was to come.
I lie here a broken man, not in spirit, but in body. One too many battles, unable to control what once was. After my time with the military, politics arrived for me, not unwelcome but unknown, elected by the people as it has always been in our systems, until, cutting short all the trivia that got me where I am, I become a true power, I make the decisions (with the peoples backing).
All the alliances made and discarded where mine, I chose the path of our people. We became strong, fleets always on the move, all our colonies moving in unison. Production, economy, energy at maximum efficiency, the alliance of First Nine [FIX] providing security, although not without skirmishes.
Then comes the illness.... body racked by pain, the loss of the use of a limb. All at the wrong time, just when I’m needed the most, I’m not there. Colonies occupied, fleets smashed, all because I’m not there to take control, the loss of millions of lives because of one illness.... mine. Besieged by other Guilds/Alliances, worlds fall, what were once mobile fleets become static and are consumed by the hordes of [GN] and [NEM] all while I lie here and can do nothing. Strong ties with other systems [FIX] help free occupations, but the damage is done.
I’m here for my people, but what do I do? My reflexes are gone, the quickness of mind no longer there, physical presence a thing of the past. Do I stand aside and let the next generation make the next move. Or do I try to resurrect the man that was, the man that may no longer exist.
What do I do?