Deadwood Diplomacy
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A RolePlay Log by | |
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Title |
Deadwood Diplomacy |
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Date |
2015 March 18 |
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IC Date |
2536 July 4 |
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Location |
Deadwood |
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Appearing |
McGuire Charley Wong Adrian Calhoun Calira d'Narvose |
A brief meeting between representatives of the alliance and the spokesman of the people of Deadwood.
Landing Grid - Deadwood
"Only when the last tree has died and the last river been poisoned and the last fish been caught will we realize we cannot eat money." ~Cree Indian Proverb
The feel this area is open in the landing field, although some may get the sense that they are being watched. There are wide open plains roll to the South, giving tall grass to wave in the breeze. A single dirt road cuts through the land heading further South. Farm land stretches to the East etching row after row of crops that differ in product growth. Acres marked off in various directions with fences and security units, seen and unseen. To the West forests stretch as far as the eyes can see. The wilderness is thick with brush and wildlife, making it difficult to see clearly into.
To the North rests the quiet little town of Deadlock, resting in the valley of the Sawtooth Mountains. The town looks freshly built and full of activity from the quiet town folk. To the North of the town are vast forests and the mountains that climb up to over twenty nine thousand feet.
A sign at the towns entrance reads:
"Unless you are invited, do your business then leave."
This is written in English, Chinese, and Romany with bright red and white letters on a black glossy background that are well lit at all times.
The afternoon air is warm with a touch of moisture in it from the thick clouds to the North. The wind is mild in the tall grass field as the Alliance shuttle touches down. The town of Deadlock to the North seems to be quiet and no one is around at this moment. <English>
Charley Wong gestures troops out, "Form a perimeter." And a nod to Adrian, "Sorry, Pitbull. Not treading on toes, am I?" <English>
The Marine commander shrugs. "Only if I immediately say 'Do exactly what she said.'" He nods, and the infantry squad piles out, weapons cradled loosely as they get their perimeter established. <English>
Charley Wong checks her helmet on her belt, and the carbine on its sling, "Right. Search and rescue. And.... if we happen to bump into any... mistaken separatists, we might have a little word, eh?" Which would explain why a full Captain is on an S&R mission. <English>
As the troops file out and take their spots outside, a small figure is seen to the the North on the edge of the towns borders. It approaches slowly and comes into focus. It is a boy, maybe twelve or thirteen, dressed in simple clothes with a vest, no shoes and a rifle slung over his shoulder. The rifle is almost as tall as the boy as he grips the strap tightly. He walks to the fields edge and just stands there looking at the activity on the landing field. A tiny voice says, "No harm." comes from the boy. <English>
The marines nearest the boy watch him, hands tightening on their rifles, but they don't level them, content merely to watch the boy and his slung rifle; if he were to try and draw on them, they'd win. One of them puts a hand to the side of their helmet (it's hard to tell whether that's a man or a woman in that armor), apparently to call in the contact. Adrian puts his hand up to his earpiece, and looks out towards the kid. He mutters something, and the marine with his/her hand on their head nods, and returns to their previous stance. <English>
Charley Wong ambles in that direction. Yep. It's an amble, accompanied by the production of a chocolate bar from her belt pouch. "Son? You seen any other retroflares round 'bout here?" Unlike when she's on Londinium or her bridge the accent is softer, more drawling. It's more Border than Rim, and hard to pin down to a specific world... unsurprisingly... but less scary than Core standard. "I've got a Yummiebar if'n you have." <English>
The boy looks up for a moment, studying the sky closely, then back to the troops on the ground. "Come, not safe in open. Elder Voivod will see you." He waves his free hand in a motion to follow. He makes no attempt at the offered bar, although his eye's do drift to it as he steps towards the town, looking over his shoulder to see what they do. <English>
Adrian cocks a brow. "Lovely.." Hand to the earpiece again. "Possible shooters. Cover up." He looks over to Leen. "Your call, Skipper." <English>
Charley Wong nods, "Get the ride camouflaged." Adrian gets a nod, "Keep a rifle covering me, alright?" And she keeps strolling over towards the lad, "Alright. You've got it." <English>
The boy walks them into Deadlock to the North. <English>
Town Of Deadlock - Deadwood
Nestled in the valley before the Sawtooth mountains to the North of the landing field, lies a quaint wilderness town called Deadlock. The mountains protect the town from the harsh Winters that last three months on this planet with the most bitter of snow and ice. A quick Fall leads to a long Summer that allows it's residence more harvests and even more time to be warry of the skies.
The best way to describe the town is rebuilt, because of the many Reaver raids this star system suffers every other day. Fresh painted wooden structures line each side of the dirt street with neutral earth tones, on flat walls of the General Store and business throughout the main street.
There is no need for a law enforcement building, because every person on this planet has been trained to defend themselves and the area. Homes surround the main street stretch out to the forest of the mountains. A quiet town with quiet residence living and working together to maintain the peace and keep mostly to themselves.
The town of Deadlock looks empty at first glance. As the boy walks the main street into town, a few faces can be seen through thick windows where the shudders are open to the buildings. They just look out in wonder at the new faces or helmets of those entering their town. A man steps out of the tavern onto the porch and leans against a pole, his rifle slung over his shoulder, dressed in simple closes with boots, dirty pants, loose shirt with a vest and a floppy hat on his head. He looks to be aged in the sun and his old eye's study the goings on down the street. Otherwise, the town is quiet at this time. <English>
Charley Wong lets out a little sigh, "This had better work out, Adrian, otherwise you get to say 'Told you so'." Her lips quirk into a faint smile. <English>
Adrian smirks. "Nah, I wouldn't do that again." He blinks. "Well, not immediately. i'd wait until we're no longer being shot at." He pauses, hand to his ear... "Pitbull Actual, acknowledging." He looks up. "Longbow's got us covered. <English>
The boy continues down the street towards to old man that stands just outside the tavern. The old man leans back to the open doorway of the place and says something in the Romani tongue. ("We've company Prince." Which is Voivod in their tongue...and this is for anyone who speaks Romany) The words carry inside the building and two bodies appear at the doorway. One large, and the other slender. One male, the other female. The male looks familar as does the female beside him, being Faoite McGuire and his good friend Cal.
Fao steps out of the tavern and looks down the street in supprise. At this time, a cart being pulled by two horses come up from the east road where the farms are. The man driving the cart suddenly stands with a suprised look on his face. He stops the cart and jumps off to start running towards the group of Alliance, "Private Jerrimy Jenson, engineer first class reporting in Sir. I didn't think anyone was coming." He looks down at his plain closes and takes off his hat as he gets close. Only one so far that isn't armed. <English>
Carrying a coffee cup in one hand, Calira emerges from the tavern behind McGuire, squinting briefly at the sunlight as she does so. Dressed comfortably in a set of well worn khaki trousers and button down shirt, Calira sweeps a long look around before taking another drink of the coffee she's toting around with her. Coffee, the elixer of life and the most generous gift of the gods, if there are such things. <English>
Charley Wong tucks thumbs into her belt, "Mr McGuire." Calira gets just a little nod. Not a formal acknowledgement. Odd that. She doesn't look around for the Engineer, beyond a glance at hearing the running footsteps. Secure in her security, perhaps. "Seems to me that you're labouring under something of a misapprehension, and should maybe have thought a bit more before you threatened a suicidal run by your ships against my Fleet." The tone is mild. The accent still that Border world drawl so unlike her 'usual' clipped Londinium tones. "Care to start over?" <English>
Adrian deflects the engineer, and motions him back to the 'field HQ,' since he's in no real position to debrief the man. "Ask for WO Hudson." He gives the man a quick once-over, something nagging at the back of his head about crazies and suicidal attacks. After sending the grease-monkey back, he comms back. "Pitbull Actual to Bedroom Eyes. Two things: First, you've got a greenie coming your way. Keep him away from the shuttle unless and until you clear him, unless you fancy walking home, which, for the record, I don't. Second, that's the last time I'm calling you that. You're picking a new callsign when we get back to Atropos." <English>
McGuire takes a breath, turning to face the one woman that broke his arm way back when and earned his respect. He smiles and says, "Yeah, tempers where pretty high then and I do appoligize for my outburst. Starting over would be the wise course of action." He motions to Private Jenson, "We found three of yours here on the planet, seven in all, but only three allowed us to assist them. The other two offered to help out on the farms as this man did too. Seeing as all contact was cut off, we couldn't report our findings to anyone, so... we've been putting food out for the four that believe their lives are in danger, and sheltering the three that come in on their own. You come for them or you want words with me over the planets discition to seperate from the 'verse? You're welcome in any case. We hold no ill to you and yours, we can offer food and shelter while you seek out your people here if you chose." His voice is even toned and his movements steady as he walks towards the group in the street.
The engineer does as instructed and heads to the landing field for extraction.
The boy stops, his job done, turns to Captain Wong and holds out his hand to her, expecting. <English>
Calira lifts her coffee cup slightly in a silent toast toward Charlie and Adrian, watching in that equally quiet manner as the engineer heads toward the landing field. <English>
Charley Wong tosses the bar underarm to the boy, and after a brief fish in her ration pack, propels a 'fruity oaty bar' after it. McGuire gets a little nod, "Well, depends if you want the actual answer or the politically wise one, doesn't it?" <English>
Adrian smirks slightly at Leen's treatment of the boy, and reaches into his own ration pouch, pulling out a mostly-edible 'assault bar.' He thinks for a moment, then pockets it again, before fishing out a small packet of candy, presumably half-inched from a combat ration pack. "Oi, kid." He waggles the packet, and offers it, his gloved hand palm up with three more of the little sugar-packs in place. <English>
The boy catches the bar and turns to Adrian. Small steps take the boy to the man and with a quick grab, takes the candies before he dashes off to his post near the field and vanishes in the tall grass out there. His departing words, "Thank you both."
Fao riases a brow and says in his even tone, "Any news is good news Captain. I'm just looking for honesty here. What my people have done here is what they wanted to do as far as politically, which is to say to get out of that red taped 'verse to live their lives. I was just the spokes man for them when it all came down. Sorry about that Alliance ship, that was not our doing. Someone took advantage of our affair for their own means it would seem. Like I said, we've reports of four more in the woods to the West hiding out, and two more safe with us. I'll send word to fetch them if you like." <English>
Adrian looks over to Leen, and nods. "Suggest we send some of ours after his point us in the direction of our wayward babes, Skip. Friendly kit might bring 'em out of hiding." He looks to Fao. "Could let you watch their helmet-cams; help 'em out, they get lost." <English>
Charley Wong takes a breath, "Well, officially then, the answer is this. We're here to collect our people, and get off this dirtball." There's a beat, "But here's a thing. We fought a gorram Reaver _Fleet_. Including a colony ship. And your 'fleet'? Not to be seen. Hiding at the bottom of the Gravity Well. You say you don't want the Alliance? Well, seems to me you should have been defending your own selves, then." She pauses, "Also, I'm not seeing a wealth of manufacturing here. I've not checked the Cortex Encyclopaedia, but I don't remember Deadwood having fuel refining capabilities... or fertilizer beyond what comes out of the tails of your beasts. Or medicinal manufacturing. Or machineworking beyond a lathe in the back yard. Sure, solar will get you electricity, but once the cells fail, where are you going to replace 'em?" She shrugs, "Sounds like you _need_ the Alliance of Planets, just you're too stubborn to admit it." <English>
"Signals are blocked from planet outward, but can you scan through local frequencies to let them know that you're here," Calira wonders as she tucks her free hand into one hip pocket, the other still curled around the mug she's holding. "Though viewing the helmet-cam feed might not be a bad idea, eyes and ears on the ground isn't a bad idea." She interjects this into the silence after Leen speaks. This said before she sends a sidelong look at Fao, studying him in that quiet way before she takes another drink of the coffee in the mug she's holding. <English>
McGuire smiles and says calmly, "That is where you are wrong Captain. Deadwood is completely self sufficent. We don't use fuel. We don't use electricity. We make our own tools, clothes, and anything needed for day to day living. We fight off Reaver raids when they come. There have been one attack since your people's pods touched down and we made sure they where safe. That mane there assisted in the fight and showed great valor in defending himself and us. What Deadwood was known for was vid production, and that was outside factors coming here to use our landscape for films and the like. What moneys we made off of that paid the worthless taxes the Allianed Planets put on us for taking care of ourselves. So truely, we have a diffrent outlook on our situration. I understand yours having been in the military, but spend a month here and see if you feel the same way afterwards." He looks to Cal and nods, "I can take you right to them, we have them under servalance and as I said, provid food and medical supplies where needed. One of them broke her leg and still refuses help. We've been watching her closely and she's fine for now. The others believe they are doing their duty to avoid capture." He shrugs, "We wont force anyone help if they don't want it." <English>
Charley Wong's lips twitch, "Sure... you want to fly in ships with home distilled fuel? With home backyard engineered parts? Oh... I'm sure you're sufficient for tools and clothing and food." She shrugs, "You'll be back in the Middle Ages inside ten years. You'll get a few things in, smuggled, from Haven, but you'll pay high for them, and in the end, you'll run out of things that the folks in Haven _want_ bad enough to take the risk of blockade running. You won't be able to do it yourself, because you 'don't need fuel'." Her hands stay tucked away, "Know what the child mortality is, without modern medicines or Core trained medics? You're probably pretty close to unacceptable as it is, but it'll get worse. Now, sure, it's a lousy job for whichever poor soul ends up having to float out in orbit hereabouts, on patrol, but the economic case is reasonable, and the political one vital." She sighs, and shakes her head, "We don't need to land, to end this foolishness. It's inevitable. It'll be slow. It'll be painful. But it'll happen. Wars aren't won by tactics, or strategy." There's a crease of a smile, "That's the mistake the Browncoats made. It's Logistics that wins wars. And it'll win here too. But.... there can be another way." <English>
McGuire tilts his head, "War? That's between you and those rebles that stole your ship Captain. Deadwood celibrated it's one hundred years of survival on this dist ball. There is no war here aside from the Reavers. The planet provides us enough to eat, our medican is grown here and the ones that know it teach the young. We've lost two children after the big Reaver raid two years back. And that was because of accedents beyond our control. So don't talk to me like I don't know my planet or how it works, because your using Core thinking of survival and not the midevil way we've been living for over a hundred years. So, what makes you think we want a war?" <English>
McGuire adds, "And if you remove the blockade, we might just come visit your Core and pay good credit to buy such medican if needed." <English>
"I know I could renew my weapons license if you do." He finishes. <English>
Charley Wong just gives an incredulous look, first to McGuire, and then to Calira. A 'what-the-hell-is-he-smoking-and-how-is-it-not-illegal-throughout-the-verse' sort of look. With an almost visible dialing down of her mental expectations, she says, slowly, "Credit earned from what goods? What do you have here that's worth manufactured goods? And of _course_ War is what you declared. Seems to me that you've forgotten the War that happened last time someone declared they weren't part of the Alliance." <English>
"They haven't forgotten," Calira explains, giving a slow shake of her head. "No one alive has forgotten how that war ended. If nothing else, believe that they are well versed in history, even if they want no part of the society in which that history is taught from the view of the victor. That said, and as I said, they haven't forgotten. Which is precisely why you are not facing an armed mob, a hail of bullets or the pointy end of pointed weapons. You're only speaking, as adults do, here in the open, where you can see that no violence is being offered. The people here are choosing to lead a life the way they wish, for good or ill. They're freely choosing to not be part of a culture or alliance or confederation of planets, nor members of a militant wing or rebellious movement. These people want only to live where they have been, as they have been, for as long as they can. the blockade isn't going to change their minds, not in one generation, not in ten generations. they want to be left alone so that they can freely engage in commerce or not, as they see fit. they're not offering violence, they're not shooting down ships, they're not plotting and scheming in some mad cap machiavellian manner. what you see is precisely what you get. they will live, and die, in their own way. The freedom to be what they are, and not be what they aren't, that's all they've ever asked for. Sure, running water is nice and so is medicine, and they'd be willing to barter and trade around until having what they need to purchase what they don't make on planet, but they'll do without. And only time will tell." <English>
Charley Wong shakes her head, "Afraid not.... 'whoever you are'". This is firmly pointed at Calira. "See, your freedom to act ends at the end of my nose. And you being left alone to trade freely harms me. So, we can't let you do it. Now, how many folks are still here? Half a million?" She shrugs, "How long before you start running into inbreeding? Five generations? Ten? Seems to me the genepool is already pretty muddy to begin with, since it's a small insular population. But your ships will have fallen apart for lack of maintenance before then. Your well trained scientists, engineers, medics. They'll be dead, and there'll be data loss at each generation." One hand, finally, leaves the gunbelt, to point a finger, "I've read my histories. I know what life was like for women on Earth-that-Was. I know of the slavery of childbirth, that wore women out from the inside, left them dead before thirty. I know the societies that raised up to keep 'em down." Each statement is punctuated by a stabbing motion of her pointing forefinger. "I know how the limits on resources led to warring, and the weak suffered, and were kept as chattel slaves. How long before your ideal society breaks down into one of warlords? Are you willing to accept on your souls the lives of those who die for your ideals?" <English>
Adrian just lets the grown-ups talk. Well, one grown-up, and one politician. He seems content to let Leen handle the negotiations (such as they are), and just keep a threat-scan active, eyes blinking slowly behind his sport goggles. He may have his opinions on the various matters being discussed, but unless and until someone asks him for it, his training tells him to keep his trap shut. <English>
McGuire says calmly, "Everything you mentioned as to do with money. We don't use money on Deadwood. We share everything, it's our way of life. As for the generations to come, three hundred thousand wont have a problem keeping our blood lines fresh. But what worries me at this moment, the here and now, is that you truely believe we are at war with you because we just want left alone. What harm is there in that?" He stops and looks at Wong, then the rest of the troopes, "Oh yes, I forgot, it goes against the grain. If one planet does this and is left along, then others might join in. Then you've got less to collect ..." He uses his fingers to make quotations, "... money's that the Core needs to survive." He sighs, "We don't want war, so keep up your blockade if it makes you feel secure and happy. We'll continue to survive as we have been. We work for each other to help each other out. As I said, live with us a while and you'll see. As long as you keep your core way of thinking, you will never understand us. So waist your time hovering over us if it makes you feel better. Then next time, send a politition to come talk to us about rejoining your system. Now, if you truely want to fight over this, you will have to glass us all and wipe Deadwood out, because none of us will fall into line here. Your troopes will not find anyone to fight if they come, and all that leaves you is to Shadow us." <English>
Charley Wong shakes her head sadly, "No... no, see, this is where you're trying to have it both ways. You don't need money. That's fine. But you want to trade. Let me just see how this one goes shall we." She assumes a new voice, "Uh, what are you doing in my pharmaceutical store with those sheep?" And then a switch back to the homesy one she was using, "I've come to buy some medicines. Look. I got sheep." The head gets shaken. "Nobody's talking about Shadowing you. You don't have the biowarfare labs that were there." That's casually thrown in there. "But... seems to me that you're going to start shrinking as a people. Especially if we let folks off, but not back on world. It's not like you can do anything about that, because, as you've mentioned, you don't need fuel, don't make fuel, and don't have cash. So, running a ship will be just dandy for you. How many generations are you expecting to survive for? And the deaths I mentioned? They going to feel easy on your neck?" She gives a little grunt, "Nobody wants a fighting war. I've been there, and I've done that. But a war where you quietly fall back out of being a spacefaring planet? That could happen really easily. And you know what? People _will_ die. And people _will_ stop supporting you." She sounds sad now, "Seems though, that I'm talking to one of the warlords that's going to end up oppressing folks. And it _really_ doesn't have to be that way. There are alternatives. But you've got to want to take 'em." <English>
"How long ago was it that the Alliance demanded that the Romani as a whole support the Alliance, publicly? And when they didn't toe the line, how long before their businesses, their ships, their people, were not just harassed but made to appear, to feel, like criminals. Made into not just second or third class citizens, but made to feel unsafe in their own homes, their own livelihoods, with their own families. History is full of examples of small segments of the world population being made a target for one reason or another. Because of race or creed or politicial affiliation or religious persuasion. These people are already treated like second or third class citizens by the Alliance. It's a slippery step from being treated like that to being classified as 'chattal' or anything else you've just mentioned," Calira remarks as she shakes her head slowly.
"Why would they want to be brought back to return to that same sort of system? Would you choose that, for yourself or your children, or your family and friends. sure, the advances of medicine and science and industry are wonderful, they are nothing less than life saving. What life is worth living when crouched under the boot heel like they would continue to be. Freedom isn't free, we all know that. We've bled, sweat and sacrificed everything for it. Again and again. Willingly. He's not a warlord or dictator in training. He's the voice of the people, who right here, right now, want this, their freedom. Here? They aren't second class citizens of anything. They work, they sweat, they toil, they laugh and fight when tempers flare and they go on, day in and day out, never turning in or tuning in or zoning out to one cortex show or another. There's no apathy or ... or wasted weeks or months. It's not perfect, it's not ideal. And certainly their lives may be shorter in some measurements, but richer in others. What is the alliance offering but more of what they've dished out before. 'come back so we can treat you like crap, it's where you belong and what you deserve'. I think that pitch is going to need a bit of work." <English>
Charley Wong gives a lazy smile, and points out to Calira, "Mostly, the Alliance ignored the insults. It was when the Romani tried to have their own private Navy that things went to Gos Se." She shrugs, "In regard to a better way? I'm just a simple soldier, and I can see them." Sure, Leen. Carrot and stick. Stick and carrot. Soldier, maybe, but perhaps not so simple anymore. Calira gets a nod, "THere's your politician there, to ask about Real Politik. But here's how I see it." A pause, whilst she tries to put things together in one of those lists she likes to reel out in her Orders of Battle, or her Strategic Appreciations. "Your primary strategic goal is self determination, and a desire to be left to manage your own affairs in real terms, regardless of any niceties which get bandied about, if I understand you correctly. You want the facts on the ground, not the theory in the air. Freedom is something you taste in your food, not wave on a flag." She ponders a little, "The Alliance don't care, overmuch, about the facts on the ground. Objectively, this is an insignificant rock.... no offense meant... whose main strategic role is as a basing point for any shielding vessels covering the Blue Sun system from Reaver Incursions. The Alliances main strategic role is the symbol. We cannot tolerate one sepratist world, because of the effects it'll have on other places. Suppose one of the big agricultural rocks goes indy, and tries to blackmail the Core. Everyone knows the Core hovers maybe 3 meals from crisis. Can't be allowed to occur. But like I say, they don't actually care about the _reality_... just like you don't care about the symbol. Seems to _me_ then, that these two things can be made to play together." <English>
McGuire listens, "Play together. We take a load of sheep or cows to a place that pays us for them in credits so we can take that to the place that might have the medican or something that we can't make here. Yet we still have taxes to pay and unless that money's that could be used to better us is taken for the good of a government that believes us to be a worthless rock in the first place. How are we going to get past that Captain?" <English>
"In short," Calira explains in a quiet aside to Fao, "the Alliance at large doesn't give a damn what the people of Deadwood want or don't want, they will ignore the planet entirely save for when it's strategically valuable here on the rim. The only issue is one of political maneuvering and how it plays in the media. Can't be setting a precedent." <English>
McGuire shakes his head, "We already have. The ship up there saying Deadwood is off limits says it all. Our point is proven." <English>
"The Taxes that a rock like this, with a population this size pays? Peanuts, and you know it, son. Specially if someone nobbles the right committees, and arranges some development grants that are bigger than the taxes you pay." She gives a lazy smile, "See, Governors out here on the Rim, they get appointed. And again, with the right.... words in the right ears.... maybe the right Governor and Vice Governor could be appointed by Parliament. Sure, one of them gets to stay and vote in Parliament, but if you get a political animal landed on you, it can be him that stays in the Core.... and if it's two Romany... or a Romany and a Havener, which I suggest might be... best, given their falling under Deadwood's Governor's rule... one of you gets to be there." She glances to Calira, "That's it in the sort and long of it. You can _profit_ from coming back. Or you can get locked away from the 'verse for staying out." There's that little shrug again, "We can spin some rubbish about Rodney's folks having left terrorists back here, and having messed with your transmissions." Again a shrug, "I don't deal in that sort of thing... but it doesn't have to be airtight. Just plausible." Calira gets a look, "That's how they get their cake, and get to eat it too. The alternative is not having a cake, and getting to eat dirt and call it a cake." A pause, "You know, I think a massive injection of capital out here to build an orbital base, or similar out on the rim, with contracts for... oh.... something. Raw materials, of some kind... placed with the Deadwood Governor's office would probably suffice." She pauses, and gives the pair a steady look. "You get self determination. You get left alone. You get the good stuff the Alliance provides. You get _everything_ you want, and everything you'd lose from leaving the Alliance." And that pointing finger comes back out, "So, there's one way it could go. Now, if you pick another, it shows that it's not about the lifestyle, or the being left alone, or anything else. It's about pride. And I've seen what pride leads to. Pride leads to dead men floating in asteroid belts. It leads to a burning skiff in Serenity valley, with just one survivor. It leads to a hellish waste of life, and it STILL ends up at the same gorram place.""
McGuire pulls a breath and says simply, "We don't care about possision or money here, and I like dirt." He says, "Now, if this is all you have, then let's get you back your people and you can leave this worthless dustball to us inbread fools that look a pricey gift horse in the mouth." He turns to the back street and raises a fist. Three armed men suddenly show themselves. Fao yells out something in romani and the three head East to the farmlands to fetch the two other soldiers in their care. Fao turns back to the troopes and Wong, "If you take a ship West of here, your troopes might see you or get a signal at short range to show themselves. Otherwise, you'll have to trust my people to show you where they are." He turns to the tavern, "I could use a drink." He looks to Cal, "I'm buying, interested?" <English>
Charley Wong says dryly, "Buying.... Have fun handing that bunny over in barter." She turns to Adrian, "Looks like pride won over good sense. Ten gets you five he doesn't share the offer with his people." She pauses, and turns back, "There'll be a shuttle doing another land and sweep in a week or two. Then monthly after that for whilst I'm upstairs. We'll give folks a lift to Haven. Maybe a few credits to get them started. There's other places.... ranches and the like... where their skills can be used. Or they can maybe join up. Learn a trade. But I'm betting you won't give people that choice. Specially not when the coffee beans start running out. When the little luxuries can't be found." She turns, and starts to stride away, then looks back, "Oh, stranger? You want to take that offer of a lift now? I think you are done here." <English>
Calira is silent for a long moment after Charley speaks, draws breath to speak in return only to stay silent again as Fao speaks his reply. Her expression is carefully shuttered and she doesn't flinch when Fao signals his soldiers before turning back to continue speaking to Leen and Adrian. When he turns to her she eyes her empty coffee mug, "I am out of coffee," she admits with a measured nod, a dry chuckle aimed at Charley even as she shakes her head again. "I appreciate the offer, but my captain," she angles a nod at Fao, "is setting the course. I'll stay the course, it's what we old war horses do." <English>
Adrian chuckles. "No bet, Skip." He flexes his hand and taps out commands on the computer on his wrist to redeploy some of the marines back at their shuttle. <English>
McGuire says as he steps up to the taverns porch, "I'll tell everyone on the planet what you've convayed here. They can leave if they wish. Just don't expect any of them to jump at the offer. It was them that forced me to make the announcement. It was them that spoke in one voice for this. Good luck changing their minds." He stops and looks at the troopes a moment as another wagon comes in from the East with the other two Alliance soldiers dressed in simple clothes and a diffrent outlook at the way of life on Deadwood. But that will get sweep under the rug in the debriefing as it always does. <English>
McGuire adds, "Oh Captain, if you see me in the 'verse on another dustball, you going to arrest me for leaving this place to do that trading you don't think anyone will do with me?" <English>
Charley Wong gives a brief shrug, "Then blockade it is. But this is your choice. It always was. From your choices, come consequences. A leader doesn't bow to a mob, when the mob is wrong. He guides them to a better road, even if they don't see it to begin with. A _leader_ doesn't let hearts rule heads. Because hearts get folks killed." At McGuire's question she gives a faint smile, "No. I'll blow up your ship on the ground. I don't like killing when it's not necessary, but you've expressed your dislike of advanced technology and your insistence you can manage without it. I think the least I could do would be to help you in that endeavor." Calira gets a thoughtful look, "You know, names will come out, in the end, as they always do. I'd rather that didn't happen." A beat, "You know, I _do_ wonder what would happen if the suggestion I made was reported as fact on the Cortex. Maybe someone like the Marchioness d'Narvose was named as Planetary Governor. Whether you'd actually notice any difference." <English>
Calira is shaking out the dregs from her coffee mug as she meets Charley's glance: "Sentenced to a life of paperwork and crises resolution? Sounds like my idea of retirement," she notes with a wry smile before casting a long look at Fao. "He'll relay what's been discussed, decisions will be made, it's how they do things around here. Thank you though, for the offer of a lift off world. I'm hoping to die of old age before I run through my coffee supply." <English>
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