A hard few days. When the Saucy Harlot died she took 46 of her crew with her. It took me until this week to get the list. I've been explaining to families why their kin were killed by our side.
I do understand how it happened. It's just that if things are that broken I don't know that I want to find crew for a ship like that again.
I told Jonny he reminded me of freedom and choice and also of forces I need to protect myself and our child from. He was incredulous and wanted to know if I saw him as dangerous. (A pod pilot with his record? Shocked?) I told him I knew he could be dangerous if he wanted to be, but I didn't feel unsafe with him. (True. So why does it remind me of mother's words to a patron?) Those he flew with, though - did he think they'd hesitate to shoot me if they had the chance? I am not Electus Matari: he is not Rote Kapelle. But still, we fly with them.
Then CJ lost a ship and crew to Rote Kapelle. Not for a reason, but because they could. I stammered my... what? Sympathy? Apologies? Then I went to the workshop to research drives and miners: anything that's not weapons. I felt Eva's absence in the disarray on the hangar floors, and again felt helpless to help. Would I trust me if I were them?
I'm sleeping with the enemy. Gladly. Gloriously. And with a sense that whatever choices I make, part of me dies.
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