The City At The Center of Mars (Red Planet Rising)

Spaceport Strike!​

Part Seven: A Government Afraid Of Its People ​

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After the tour, you depart amicably from the camp of the Laborers and collect your weapons from the Laborers who were keeping an eye on them. Laura promises that she'll see to it that word's spread around about what you've done. She can't and doesn't want to promise any immediate results or guaranteed outcomes, but you hope that you've made a good enough impression to mend some of the damage done by Hellas and whatever's been going on with the Garrison to the reputation of MPA forces in the region. It's starting to get late into the afternoon by the time you depart, though, and so rather than pulling your comrades aside, you simply drop by each of them as you walk and ask their opinion about what just happened.

First up is Janice, taking the lead in your party's trek towards the repurposed courthouse being used by the Watson Council. "Well, ma'am, I think there's nothing wrong with the Laborers on a personal level - I just think that their ideas are doomed and that they'll react poorly when they fail. Trying to establish a democratic anarchist commune in Mariner City is easier said than done. Stadium managed to make a socialist state, sure, but that's because they were more then willing to crack some heads to impose their system of governance - The monopoly of force must be held by the state, even a socialist one. The Laborers are basing their whole idea off of the time that they disrupted the monopoly of force, to win elections, which then could also be disrupted by someone choosing to disrupt their monopoly of force and doing a militant strike or sit-in or whatever - What're they going to do then? Murder them? For, what, being Station socialists, or University-style technocratic socialists? Can't imagine the MPA's going to hold truck with that, just like we didn't stand for Hellas's plan to get rid of the Laborers. Are they just going to rely on their opposition being too weak to take action?"

She shrugs. "It's a bad assumption to make. They're relying on reform through direct action, not outright revolution, as you folks would say, right? It's, ah, utopian - Their only stated demand with regards to governance is new elections, not the establishment of an anarchist polity, that's just their post-election plan. And if they don't win those initial elections, if they've misjudged their popular support - Well, we're back at square one, aren't we, but now with a disgruntled political minority of militant anarchists. My personal bet is that they'll just hold the Spaceport hostage again until they get a result they like. However, assuming the best case, they just do their level best to stonewall the Council both politically and with direct action until things fall apart again so they can establish their commune. In all of those cases, we're the ones left to clean up the pieces." You nod, listening carefully to her critique. "Thank you, Janice - You're somewhat more read up on the theory about this sort of thing than I thought you would be, no offense." She shrugs, looking away. "Gotta know who you're working with, right? Even if I don't necessarily agree with some socialist or anarchist ideas in practice - I can understand the principle behind them, at least."

Dropping back slightly, you step beside Bill, who's keeping an eye on your surroundings to make sure you stay on the right track. "Any thoughts about the Laborers, Bill?" He glances over at you and shrugs. "Their heart seems like it's in the right place, but, well…if they get what they want, I've no doubt that they'll be turned into a puppet or some kind of sphere outlier - Either by University or the MEF at worst. We've already got enough issues with smuggling through University territory as it is - An independent commune like what they described even further outlying, one that preaches anti-UN sentiment while holding the Spaceport itself, is going to be a political nightmare for the MPA and a hub for every insurgent movement from MBC's border to Rocabarraigh. It's made even worse by the fact it's on the border of Stadium and University like this, too - Makes a perfect way for insurgents to get into Stadium's core territory, get out of Stadium's core territory, head up to the MEF, or down from the MEF." You nod - This has mirrored at least some of your own thoughts on the matter. "Thanks, Bill - I appreciate you giving me your opinion." He nods. "Don't think anything of it, just doin' my part." You slow down even further, heading back towards the back half of the group.

Sister Galle is in third place, so to speak. She's not heavily armed or armored enough to be the rearguard, and her suit means she can't exactly overtake Bill, so she's here almost by default. "Oh, hi, Rosalind!" She waves to you as you maneuver yourself to be by her side. "Here to ask what I think about the Laborers?" She grins. "I heard your conversations with Bill and Janice a bit, and I got the gist." You nod, not interrupting her - She seems to be on something of a roll already. "So, uh - I disagree with both of them, honestly. The Laborers are doing the right thing - Maybe not in the best way, sure, and maybe it'll be hard to do it, but that's what we're supposed to be doing. They're taking direct action against an unelected, anti-union, corrupt government and occupation force - The only reason the MPA wouldn't be funneling them support if this was the MEF or the old MUC is that this time it's our unelected regional government and our occupation force. They don't even want to secede or anything - They're willing to let bygones be bygones, so long as they get to self-organize under their principles. Now, I know I get a bit overexcited sometimes, so I do want to see all the proof and investigate everything - But just from what the Garrison seemed like, what the FLA said, and what the Laborers said, I can't see myself really changing my mind. Even if the Laborers and their solution aren't perfect, we ought to help them make it better - because they're genuinely doing the right thing here." You listen carefully and nod again, before replying. "I get where you're coming from, Galle. Your honest opinion means a lot to me." She nods, then waves goodbye to you as you drop back towards River.

River's focusing on watching your group's back as you go, keeping an eye on windows, alleys, and various other potential vectors of attack on your team as you walk. It's easy to forget that in some parts of Mariner City, this would be an absolute necessity - But here, at least, it's more optional. "Hey, River." She glances over at you, raising an eyebrow. "I wanted to ask your opinion on everything that just happened - Everything the Laborers talked about." She shrugs. "Pretty simple, in my opinion - Just like Hellas was, just like the Council seems to be, they've got their own idea of what's best for the people and they want to impose it on them. I doubt the thought that they wouldn't win an honest election ever crossed their mind. Their steward seems better than Hellas, at least - She seems to actually view the people under her command as people. But I wouldn't want her and her ideas running a district. She and hers were willing to start this whole thing, even if Hellas was the one who escalated it, because they were getting investigated. Maybe it's out of their principles - Maybe it's because there's actually some ties."

She shakes her head. "I don't think there are ties, personally - At least not ideological ones, she didn't give off the vibe of a plant or an infiltrator. But she was really anti-UN, and she's clearly still in the…partisan mindset, though I'm not sure that's the best way to say it. When you're in a war with that mindset…you don't get to pick and choose your allies - You work with whoever will see your goals accomplished, even if when your common enemy is defeated, you both know that you'll turn on each other." She taps her patch. "That's the way it worked in the Civil War, at least - We worked with reformists, with Nomad-trained cadres, with cultists, anyone who'd be willing to fight with us against the regime." She chuckles, bitterly. "Didn't work out well for us, though." You listen, nodding. "I wouldn't have thought about it that way, River - Thank you." She shrugs. "It is what it is. Now, I think we're getting close - You'd better go get back up to the front." You glance forward, and hurriedly up your pace to get back to the front, waving to River as you go.

---

The former courthouse that houses the Watson Council is a stately building, in an area that seems to be in somewhat better repair than much of the rest of the center of the district. People walk the streets more openly here, and your group mingles in with a small, but steady flow of pedestrians going about their days. As you enter the square housing the courthouse, it houses, frankly, the largest gathering of people you've seen thus far in the Watson District - All engaging in an open-air swap market of sorts. People carry around baskets and chatter between stalls, the level of hubbub on the level that you'd expect from one of the common areas of Station or Stadium. Patrols of men and women wearing badges walk around in pairs and trios, stiffly separate from the crowd, distinct even though they lack a clear uniform beyond the badge - Their demeanor is enough to set them apart. They noticeably don't carry firearms, but instead, have truncheons hanging from their belts.

Your pace slows down slightly, so as not to force your way through the crowd or draw undue attention, but with your uniforms, you definitely feel eyes on you, both civilian and what you assume to be the Council's militia. Trade pauses as you pass by, civilians drawing out of your way and clearing a path. Regardless of the atmosphere, you do get a glance at what's being traded back and forth - It seems to be mostly consumer goods, of the non-essential variety. You see furniture, decorations, clothes, books, drinks - One stall is even advertising chocolate from the Garden District. This is clearly an organized phenomenon, one that seems to have been happening for quite a while…though not so frequently that the militia is used to it, you think, glancing at a pair of them passing by you.

Before long, you reach the steps leading up to the Courthouse and start ascending. Militia stand by the doors, but they don't move to prevent your entry into the Courthouse or question you. One of them even offers you a semi-nervous salute, prompting the other guard to do the same. Seems they might have been forewarned of your arrival. The lobby of the Courthouse is manned by further militia, but none of them are willing to make eye contact or seem inclined to disrupt you and your group's progress. Helpful signage points you in the direction of the Council's chambers, however, and so you head up some stairs into the second floor of the building, followed by your team. Once there, it's only a minute or two before you stand in front of the doors of the Council chamber, once more guarded by two militiafolk. One of them coughs and awkwardly steps aside, while the other opens the door for you hastily, allowing you entry.

As you enter, you immediately note the shape of the room and the makeup of the Council. The room is circular, with a semi-circle table sitting in the middle, presumably where the panel of Judges would've sit pre-collapse. There are a few other tables and chairs scattered about the corners of the room, but the vast majority of chairs have been pulled behind the semi-circle to allow for the Council to all sit together. An empty floor is in front of the Council's table, slightly lower than the rest of the room. It's accessible by a series of small steps - It is presumably to allow for whoever's speaking to them space to present, gesture, or simply to intimidate them. A holdover from pre-Collapse, you're sure, but this is the room the Council chose to use…or chose to use for this.

The divisions in the Council are visible simply from their seating arrangements, with three clear groups distinguished, and only a few stragglers sitting between their clearly defined lines. On the left are men and women wearing clothes you'd associate with the sort of traveling merchants who would occasionally come to town before Station annexed Cu Sith Gorge and expanded the rail line. Their clothes are pressed and as nice as they can make them, but they still have patches and signs of clear use. On the right sit a group you've seen occasionally in the Depot, or during the war - Those with access to actually nice clothing. They wear the sorts of suits and dresses that actually match up to the quality you'd see in pre-Collapse photos of wealth and refinement. Typically, these were visitors from ODIN, University, or MBC, but here, they seem to be as local as the rest. The central group wears more militaristic clothing - Things you recognize as clothes often worn by off-duty military personnel when they expected to be called into duty at any moment. A few carry weapons or bear patches on their clothes, indicating either unit or allegiance - You're not sure which. They all ceased talking as soon as the door opened, so you're not sure what might have been being discussed before you arrived. Given the reaction to you thus far, as well as the expectant looks all of them have been giving you and each other, you suspect it was your imminent arrival.

Well, you'd hate to disappoint. You gesture forward, and your team hesitantly follows you down the steps into the open floor. The Council seems to wait, though they murmur to each other softly. You step forward and introduce yourself. "I am Conductor Rosalind Beriel, present on behalf of the Martian Popular Authority. I and my team have come to resolve the ongoing crisis in the Watson District, to ensure that the principles of the MPA are upheld, and that reconstruction can resume." The murmuring increases, enough that you can hear some of the whispers.

"...Hellas…she…Well, I mean…principles...Crisis…Laborers…"

You cough and draw their attention back to you. "If the Council could introduce themselves, we can begin the initial interviews regarding what has occurred?" A middle-aged woman stands sharply, from the central section. "Ahem. I am Councilwoman Rosa Lederberg, and the Council has decided to, ah, remain together, to present what has occurred - I trust you will find it accurate to our reports on the matter." She glances around the room, and nodding hastily follows, from all sides. "I will introduce myself first, I am the representative of the section of the Council in charge of law enforcement and internal security within Watson District." She nods to the left, and a young man rises, eagerness clear in his face and voice.

"I am Councilman Alex Byrd, and I represent those council members on the Committee for Work Assignment and Supply Distribution." He nods across the table, and an older woman rises, somewhat languidly. She seems almost too old, frankly, with long grey hair tied up in a bun and her entire face somewhat wrinkled. "And I'm Marie Dollfus. I'm the one in charge of the people who are in charge of handling all the other administrative work that goes into running the District." Both of the other two glare at her, and she rolls her eyes. You make a mental note of this and turn towards Byrd.

"Councilman Byrd, I assume you are the one responsible for organizing the marketplace outside, then?" He coughs and shakes his head. "No, ah, that particular…honor belongs to Councilwoman Lederberg." He nods to her, sounding strained at the words 'honor'. She smiles slightly, either not noticing or not caring about the strain. "Indeed, Conductor, it is one of the finest triumphs we've accomplished as part of reconstruction - The establishment of a flourishing central market, under socialist principles-" This seems added to her sentence almost as an afterthought. "-has enabled us to vastly simplify the administrative workload related to the distribution of non-essential goods and services. We have reorganized many of the businesses and organizations that formerly produced such goods into cooperatives, which now engage in trade to stimulate the flourishing economy of the Watson District. Once this unfortunate labor dispute crisis is resolved, we hope to begin exporting our fine products to other Districts in need of our goods, in exchange for their luxury goods and materials, to further accelerate reconstruction." Both of her fellow Council members grimace at this, though she doesn't seem to notice.

"Mmm. Interesting." That's all you have to say on the matter, before turning to address the general Council as a whole once more. "Alright, then. Let's hear your report on the situation."

Alex Byrd and Marie Dollfus nod, seeming grateful to get back on track. Byrd starts. "It all started when we discovered the leadership of the Laborers had been subverted by a dangerous anti-MPA radical - Their new Steward, Laura Brashear. While we'd known she was in town, her…rapid rise to power, as well as her restructuring of the Laborers, worried us." Dollfus interjects. "Not to disparage Steward Brashear's service to the cause, or whatever - We know she served as a partisan and fought in the Unification War, this isn't about that. It is about her actions in Watson District, no more, no less." Byrd nods to her. "Indeed. Anywho - She began to use her position to spread her ideas amongst the workers of the Laborers, and soon, anti-UN propaganda was popping up all over the district. The Enforcers tried to handle these vandals but were often set upon by packs of these belligerents. Even when they did successfully take in vandals, there were often large protests regarding their imprisonment - Agitated into action by the Laborers, no doubt." Lederberg nods, though Dollfus seems more neutral on the topic, and Byrd pauses in his speech.

Lederberg speaks up. "We began an investigation into the Laborers, seeking to ensure that they had not been infiltrated by MUC insurgents or MEF infiltrators - With the aid and permission of the Garrison as a whole, of course." Interesting that she didn't say Captain Hellas, there. "But when we did, they began to engage in strike action, demanding that we halt our legitimate investigation and for the dissolution of our entire body, among other things, though I imagine you're aware of that, though." This is phrased carefully, but it confirms your earlier suspicion - They are aware of your actions at the Garrison. Lederberg pauses. These pauses, the switching of speakers - This is clearly practiced. They must've known you were coming and had time to get their story straight. Unfortunate, but you can't do anything about it now.

Dollfus speaks next, still not affecting much interest in proceedings. "We sought a peaceful resolution to this, but unfortunately, due to the actions of ex-Captain Hellas, such was impossible. He brought in foreign itinerants to…well, put it politely, scab - Less politely, to use as a deniable way to attack the Laborers. We nearly had a riot when they first tried to force their way into the Spaceport. Enforcers had to break up the brawl, but we didn't end up arresting anyone - Hellas demanded we release any refugee detainees, and the Laborers…well, they demanded the release of their captured people 'or else'." She uses air quotes. "The situation had escalated beyond our ability to de-escalate, and by this point, it was clear that the Laborers had been infiltrated or were rapidly radicalizing into anti-MPA sentiment." She nods to Lederberg, who begins speaking once again.

"Either way, the outcome is the same - As the barricades went up and we began to get reports of the Laborers breaking open old arm caches and rallying public support behind them, it became clear we were at risk of a full uprising if we didn't get help immediately. Thus, we sent our reports to the MPA requesting immediate support. And now, we're here." She finishes speaking with a nod. Interesting - Practically no mention of the FLA as an organized entity, merely as 'foreign itinerants'. Do they not know you visited them? Or do they not know they're organized in such a manner?

After a moment of thought, you speak once more. "Thank you for your report, Councillors." They nod, glancing to each other. After another moment of silence, Dollfus speaks up. "So - Let's hear the verdict, Conductor. Are we being dissolved, or do we keep our positions for another day?" Lederberg and Byrd glare daggers at her, and she waves dismissively at them. "Come on - We were being obvious about the tension here. We're all in suspense here, Conductor, because we got word that you had ousted Hellas, and as much as he deserved it, we're all worried that we're next - That this is a clean sweep by the MPA, regardless of who did what." You raise your hands.

"Hold on. No - This Council is not being dissolved - Yet." You take slightly more pleasure in the flicker of relief vanishing from the eyes of some of the Council than is theoretically necessary. "Paul Hellas was removed from his position for various violations of MPA law, which I am not going to disclose at this time - It will be released in the future." The very nebulous future - You'll need to carefully maneuver how you announce what he was arrested for. "Unless all of you have committed some violation of MPA law that would necessitate your removal from your positions, I would not dissolve this Council...yet." Lederberg speaks up, a slight tone of anger in her voice. "What do you mean, yet? If we haven't done anything wrong, why would you dissolve the Council?" You hold up a finger, and she silences herself.

"It is my job to mediate and resolve the labor dispute currently ongoing to a satisfactory conclusion. That means ensuring that this district does not become a warzone unless there is no other option. I understand that many of you have objections to the idea of being dissolved, but it is also my understanding that one of the primary demands of the Laborers is the holding of elections for the Council. Therefore, a theoretical resolution of this dispute, under my authority, may include those elections being held - Therefore dissolving the Council as it currently exists." Much of the Council frowns and grumbles, but none seem willing to risk your displeasure by openly challenging you. Good. You're somewhat stretching your legal authority here - You certainly had authority over Captain Hellas as a member of the MPA's military structure, but a civilian provisional government is slightly more of a grey area. However, you've correctly judged the atmosphere of the room - These people are afraid of you and your threat to their authority. Scared people can do dangerous things - But they can also be manipulated into working with you. You've shown them the stick, now to show the carrot.

"However, I do think there is room for compromise - But first, I need to truly gather all of the facts on the situation. I and my team will be conducting individual interviews with each member of the Council regarding their duties and the current situation." Rather than the united front you were met with earlier, your display of authority seems to have somewhat shaken the Council - Most of them nod and mumble vaguely affirmative statements, though Lederberg and much of her segment only respond with frowns. "Now, then. Let's get started, and whichever members I don't get to this evening will be finished at a later date."

As it turns out, you and your team only have time to interview one-third of the Council before you have to return to the Garrison for the night. Which third is it?

[] Alex Byrd and the Committee for Work Assignment and Supply Distribution

[] Rosa Lederberg and the Enforcement Task Force

[] Marie Dollfus and the Administrative Oversight Committee

QM's Note: Thanks for reading, and I hope you all enjoyed! Feedback, reactions, and votes are always appreciated.

Spaceport Strike!​

Part Eight: At Day's End​

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QM's note: I'm going to put a content warning for much of this update - It involves some of the harsher parts of the Unification War, civilian casualties, etc. I'd prefer to err on the side of caution when I get more explicit about that sort of thing, even if I'm not describing it in graphic detail, so if you'd like to skip it or just be prepared for it, it begins at around 'as sure as the dust blows', and intermittently continues until around 'You still remember her face'.

---

Most of the Administrative Oversight Committee interviews reveal nothing new, according to your compatriots, and from what you yourself have seen. The vague name of their committee seems to correlate to their actual duties - Handling everything that isn't handled by other committees. This ranges across processing paperwork, building inspection, and many other niche, but vital tasks, mostly covering civilian quality of life and basic governmental functions.

You've saved Dollfus for last, to see how well her story matches to all of her nominal subordinates…though it's an interesting picture you've gotten of her from those subordinates. Dollfus seems to pride herself on doing work to an exacting standard - But at the same time, if her subordinates meet those standards, she's more than happy to allow them to basically do whatever they want in terms of specific projects, hence leading to her committee's incredibly varied niches. She also enforces a 'Committee Dress Code', loaning out her own wide stock of clothing to other Council members, though it seems as if only her own faction seems to take her up on it. Pre-Unification, it seems she was one of the more fashionable and knowledgeable tailors in Watson District and had several contracts with University that enabled them to maintain her machines and provide materials in exchange for providing clothing up to their standards on a regular basis.

You finish gathering your thoughts, just as Janice escorts Dollfus into the small room you've commandeered as an interview space. The rest of your team is already seated, and Janice joins them, watching Dollfus as she stands in front of you - A reversal of the prior dynamic. She seems unintimidated, though, unlike many of the other Council members who have already gone through this process. "So, Conductor - I trust you have some questions for me?"

"Indeed." You smile at her. "Now, Councilwoman-" She interrupts. "Just Marie, if you please, thank you." You nod. "Marie. We've heard that your political aims, as the head of your Committee are to ensure that Watson District unifies with University - Would you say that's correct?" She raises an eyebrow, then strokes her chin, thinking about it. "...In a sense. No - I won't pussyfoot around it like I'm sure some of my people did, or try to give you the runaround like Byrd and Lederberg will. I'm of the opinion that Watson District would be best off under University's aegis, that's as sure as the dust blows."

You nod at her, a silent request for her to elaborate. She sighs, gesturing grandly with one arm. "To call it a political aim is incorrect, though - It is a personal opinion, one that I and quite a few others are convinced of. Not because of any particular love for University - I certainly remember their intervention during the War, but rather, because of their rather…unique cowardice. I am not a soldier, Conductor Beriel - I am a tailor. I have been forced to see my home become the battlegrounds of the great powers of Mars again and again. I have lost friends-I have lost family to the battles between the ideologies of the MPA and MUC - And frankly, I care not much for either, at this point. I do not denigrate the MPA - You are certainly better than Central ever was."

She lowers her head, shaking it. "But it is hard for me to hold much love for the grand ideals of socialism when all I have seen of its fruits are dying men and women in the streets, crying for their mothers - For salvation that never came. To me, the image of the Unification War in Mariner City is not, as per some MPA propaganda, the liberating flag being raised over City Hall - It is children huddled in basements with their families, praying to the Mother that they are not crushed or, worse, trapped to starve by a collapsing building. The wages of grand ideological commitments, to me, are graves - Graves filled with the corpses of 'collaborators' and mistaken identities, convicted of the crime of taking food from the wrong source or wearing the wrong colors near the wrong people."

She lifts her head, speaking more confidently. "I cannot shift the fact that Mars will be at war in the future, or has been at war in the past - But I can prevent Watson District from becoming a battlefield during the next one like it has been during the Unification War and Great Game. University, if nothing else, has a prevailing attitude of joining whatever the winning side is at any point in time, to prevent their precious territory from coming under risk. I have no doubt that if the MEF and MPA went to war, University would station its forces defensively on their border and allow the MPA transit, but refuse to intervene offensively until the outcome was nigh-certain - The cost has been too high for them in the past to do anything more. And that is exactly what I want for Watson District. No more wars in our District, no more grand ideological struggles and destructive battles for our resources - Just to be a place where people can live, without fear of death. And aligning with University is the only way I see to achieve that." She frowns. "I suppose in a manner you could call it pacifism - I prefer to call it common sense."

You nod, slowly. "I see…" She continues, unphased by your cue to let another question be asked. "I think the distinction between my personal opinion and a political aim is key, though - As I said, your MPA is much better than the MUC ever was. If I were to 'lose' and be thrown out of the Council when elections are held-" She makes air quotes around the word lose. "-Then I would simply return to my life as a tailor. I doubt the MPA would deny me food and basic services, I equally doubt insurgents would bother targeting me, and, well…everyone needs clothes, in the event I need more specialized goods. I volunteered for this position solely because I wish to better the district - My disdain for war and violence comes second to the needs of recovering from it."

You nod, slowly, and begin to ask questions about the specific chain of events, as per the Council's reports. Her story largely matches the one the Council told, though she emphasizes repeatedly that she has been outvoted whenever the Council has chosen to use violence, such as using the Enforcers to break up the 'almost riot' between the Laborers and 'refugee scabs' and when they made their recommendation to the MPA. You pause, here, and ask another question.

"What about the Free Labor Association?"

She blinks. "The what?" She raises an eyebrow at you. "I've never heard of such an association in the Watson District." You frown. "The association of refugees that Hellas was working with." She nods, now also frowning. "I was aware that they were generally together, but I wasn't aware they'd formed an association with a name and organization and such - Mmm. Interesting."

You keep going through the chain of events. "Do you know anything about the fire that occurred in the refugee camp that had been established for them, or the attempt to evict them as a fire hazard?"

She shakes her head. "Not at all, though that is surprising - It should have been reported to my committee. We handle building inspections and whatnot, fire hazards fall under that. We wouldn't have evicted them, though - At most, displacement into a new temporary home until such time as we could resolve whatever the fire hazard was."

You make a mental note of that, for later, then continue. "You don't seem to like your fellow Council members much."

Marie snorts. "And the favor is much returned - We all can't stand each other. Byrd calls me a bourgeoise traitor - Because I went to University for an undergraduate degree in fashion and textile design, and because I don't want to align us with Stadium. He doesn't seem to understand that University is part of the MPA, as well." Janice nods along slightly at that - In sympathy with Marie, at least from what you can tell. Bill doesn't comment beyond a mild grimace. "And Lederberg - Mars, don't get me started on Lederberg. She's so obsessed with her idea of Watson as some kind of industrial powerhouse that'll export goods to all of Mariner City that she forgets that she's just in charge of domestic law enforcement. Hence why she tromps over Byrd's remit with her 'socialist marketplace' ideas and 'cooperative organization'-" More air quotes. "-under the guise of 'enforcing socialist law in Watson District'. More like enforcing her own power trip. Both of them barely bother to talk to my committee about whatever they're doing - They act like they're running their own shadow government instead of trying to better the district." She scoffs at this.

You raise your eyebrows - That's a lot of information. "And your opinion on the Laborers?"

She waves her hand. "Bah. Much like most unions, they're only out for what's best for themselves. They don't care about the district - They care about their own well-being, and everyone else can eat sand. They'd do the same thing as Lederberg, just in the name of the 'People' instead of 'independence'. This entire conflict is because of them not being willing to accept a legitimate investigation - As biased as my compatriots may have been in starting one, we couldn't have convicted anyone without evidence. They brought another armed conflict to the door of the District, and therefore, in my humble opinion - Fuck them. No amount of good intentions is worth the deaths they'd cause for their so-called ideals."

You nod, and finish up questioning her - Nothing much more of interest comes up, though, unfortunately. "Thank you for your time, Marie." She nods. "Nothing to it, Conductor - Best of luck in handling this. I don't envy you." And with that, she sweeps out of the room.

---

With the interviews finished up and most of the Council having exited the building, you and your team begin to pack up, discussing everything you just covered as you do so.

"That woman - Marie - She's a real coward." River starts things off explosively, and Janice immediately takes her bait. "What? Don't be ridiculous - She's just trying to do what she thinks is best. It's not cowardice to hate war." River shakes her head. "It is when it's not trying to stop all war - She just cares about her people and her district. Nobody else. She didn't even know who the FLA is - People who've been in her district for how long? All that 'foreign' rhetoric the Council was using, its nationalist sentiment - Pure and simple. Making people alien, even if they only come from a district or two away. Disgusting."

Janice shrugs. "She's not so bad. I rather like her, frankly. I'm fairly sure she's the only one here who's been giving anything to us straight - If maybe a bit slanted, I'll give you that. Not trying to convince us, just explaining her viewpoint and principles. And it's not like she's wrong about University. The Council as a whole, though - Talk about the worst examples of local governance. That Lederberg woman in particular gives me the worst heebie-jeebies of the whole lot, though. She reminds me of some of my targets, back in the day - The sort of people the IAD would hit hardest - because they had the fervor and foresight to be a serious problem for the entire department if they got ideas in their head. If I had to bet on who organized them all giving us that unified story, it'd be her - Dollfus likely would've let the rest of them hang out to dry, and I doubt Byrd could've convinced Lederberg if it wasn't her idea."

Sister Galle shakes her head. "I don't disagree, Janice, but, uh, I think River's right, too! I mean, all that nationalism stuff - I don't like it. Reminds me too much of Enterprise rhetoric…" River nods. "But, uh, I also think it's a bit fair to be down on her for not knowing about the FLA - Hellas and maybe other Councilfolk were keeping it from the main group, right? I don't know, but all that corruption and all these lies…I don't think we can blame her. I mean, we didn't know either, until Rosalind's friend told us about them! Communication seems to be a major issue, here." River's disposition turns more sour at the rebuttal, but she doesn't contradict Galle, either.

Bill chews on the inside of his cheek as he thinks about what the others have said. "I gotta say - I think y'all are missin' the forest for the trees. That Byrd fellow - He's gonna be our biggest issue, I betcha." Everyone turns towards Bill with a raised eyebrow. "What! I'm not some, ah, Stadium nationalist - I thought we should've arrested Hellas, just at a better time. Byrd's the most likely suspect for all that corruption, ain't he? I bet he's Hellas's man on the inside of the Council - And who knows what he's gonna do to try and weasel his way outta trouble now that Hellas is gone. As for Marie…" He shrugs. "Don't agree with her, not completely - But I've seen enough of war for a lifetime. I know what she's talkin' 'bout. And I can't blame her for feelin' that way."

That seems to kill the conversation. The atmosphere turns somber and self-reflecting, as much of the group seems to be lost in thought as they pack up. You never ventured too close to the frontlines - But you were on the trains, often enough. Even on the ones packed near to the brim with returning wounded soldiers, eyes blank or missing limbs, there was always at least one bench reserved for the Last Stop - The final ride every Station soldier takes, bringing their remains back to the Depot. The bodies can't be transported in passenger cars, but the bench reserved for them is still stacked with their ID tags, mementos, photos, and other things kept of them by their comrades, often on top of each other or arranged in shrine-like displays. You'd often see soldiers out of their seats, huddling or praying by the bench. One time, you remember looking at the bench in passing, and seeing a photo of a young woman in uniform, smiling at the camera - She can't have been older than Galle, Mother protect you - And just stopping and staring at it.

You still remember her face.

---

When you return to the Garrison, night has fallen, and the encampment is much livelier than it had been earlier that day. The gate guards don't dare challenge your entry, and so you and your team can walk around the block without any trouble. Men and women in Stadium uniform congregate in large groups, loudly discussing the upcoming election - As well as the mysterious circumstances which had led to it. Speculation about what happened with Captain Hellas runs rampant, it seems - Though it quiets noticeably whenever speakers notice you walking in your uniform. Soon enough, though, Militiawoman Batson runs up to you, having been alerted of your arrival. She salutes. "Conductor! The, uh, rest of command is waiting for you. I've been told to escort you to them." You nod, gesturing for your team to follow you as you head towards the building where Captain Hellas's office formerly resided. Instead of going up the stairs, this time, it seems as if you're merely heading for the lobby. In there, three people await you.

One of them, a young man, wears a black and white shirt, but without the traditional whistle of the Referee Corps - He must be a referee in training, out here to mediate disputes between soldiers to make up for how the Referee Corps is spread so thin at the moment. He looks incredibly nervous - As he should be. In theory, it was his job to prevent this, though you doubt anyone is going to be too hard on a trainee.

The second, a woman, is wearing the uniform of a Red Goalie - Essentially a second in command of a given militia or garrison for military affairs, though not civilian ones. She looks directly at Bill and frowns, which he seems surprised about.

Finally, a man wearing the uniform of a Stadium Coach - The mirrored equivalent to the Goalie's role, in regards to the garrison's functioning on a more civilian level. Given the primarily military nature of this outpost, he likely just handles logistics - And probably also things to do with the FLA.

Introductions are briefly made. The Referee-in-Training is Jacob Cysat, the Goalie is Maxine Dembowski, and the Coach is Donovan Dunthorne - Though he tells you to just call him 'Don'. Your team also introduces themselves, and though the air is tense between Bill and Maxine for whatever reason, everyone shakes each other's hands, then prepares to get down to business.

"Right!" You clap your hands. "I trust Militiawoman Batson has informed you of what has occurred with regards to Captain Hellas, and thus what needs to happen now." They all nod, with varying levels of confidence. "In that case, I won't cover old ground - What needs to happen now is that the damage to the public's confidence in the Garrison is remedied, that any lingering traces of corruption are excised from the Garrison, and that the full extent of any collaboration with Captain Hellas is exposed. With this in mind, I am going to give all of you the option to come forward with any information you had about Hellas's actions now - In exchange for my promise to be understanding about your circumstances." All three glance at each other.

Don steps forward. "I knew about the FLA, helped house them and such - Didn't know about the scabbin' though, Conductor. Knew they were workers, sure, and knew they were in conflict with the Laborers - Didn't know it was because the Captain had hired them. I thought they were in league with the Council, honestly - But, well, you know." Maxine also nods. "I knew about the FLA a bit - And I knew the Captain was preparing us in the event of the Laborers launching an insurgency. Didn't know he was intending to…well, you know." She shakes her head. Jacob just shakes his head. "I d-didn't know anything about what the Captain was doing - He, uh, I, uh, just wasn't really involved. I mostly just try to help keep things calm amongst the troops, and between the people of the District and our people." He flushes and stares at his feet, which Maxine chuckles knowingly at.

"Right." You accept their explanations - For now. "Referee Cysat, Coach Don - You two are going to be in charge of rooting out anyone who did know, as well as any corruption in the ranks. I trust you two will keep each other honest - And I'll be supervising your work, too. Goalie Dembowski, your job is to ensure that the new elections proceed apace, as well as ensuring normal operations aren't disrupted." All of them nod. "How long do you think those elections will take, by the by?"

Dembowski thinks…"Three days or so should be enough - One day for candidate selection, one day for campaigning, and then, one day for voting." She nods, and you're inclined to trust her judgment on the matter.

It will be three days (starting tomorrow) before a new Garrison Captain is elected. Updates will be provided on this at the end of each day.

"Right. Garrison Command - You are dismissed. If needed, I will speak to you individually to check up on the progress of your tasks." They all salute, and then hastily take their leave. You turn to your team…and Militiawoman Batson, who has remained - To serve as a guide to the camp, perhaps? A good idea - You still need to ensure you and your team are viewed positively by the Garrison, rather than with fear, after all. "Militiawoman Batson! Where does the Garrison typically spend their off-duty evenings?" She thinks for a second. "Uh, there's a bar, just a few blocks away, it's operated by someone who's, ah, friendly to Stadium, Conductor. Most of the soldiers who're off-duty and inclined tend to go drinking there. Not a party, though, Conductor - Much lower-key." You nod and glance towards your team. "Anyone who wishes to retire may - But I intend to visit this bar, to ensure that we are not viewed with fear by the Garrison." Most of the team nods, but Galle speaks up. "Ah, thank you, Rosalind - But I don't drink, so I think I'll pass. We've got bunks, yes, Militiawoman Batson?" Batson nods. "Then I think I'll just retire to those - It's been a long day, and I'd like to perform some self-reflection and prayer." She moves towards the door.

"Of course, Galle - It's no problem. See you when we get back." "Bye, Galle." "See you later, Sister!" "Rest well, Sister Galle." You wave to her as she leaves, then turn back towards the remaining team. "Right, team. Let's go relax a bit, after the day we've had - You all deserve it, after dealing with the Council for hours." Bill chuckles at that, River looks at least somewhat approving, and Janice lets her professional demeanor crack slightly with a small smile.

It's only a few minutes to get to the bar, and once you're there, your group splits up after getting drinks - A good outcome for ensuring that the Garrison gets as much exposure to your team as possible, but it does leave you with the choice of which group to go with, once you have your own drink.

[] Janice and Militiawoman Batson have started chatting with each other at a small table, each with a drink the bartender called 'The Stadium Special', which came in novelty Red and Blue glasses.

[] Bill's gathered a small crowd around his table, where he seems to be recounting war stories to their rapt attention, while he drains his glass of 'University Water', a play on University's incredibly infrequently enforced prohibition on alcohol drinking.

[] River's sitting at the bar - She and the bartender seem to have struck up a conversation as she drinks her own preferred mix - Some cocktail she called a 'Knight's Delight' that she had to explain to the bartender.

QM's Note: Thanks for reading, and I hope y'all are ready for the investigation phase of this mission to begin (after this social vote)! Feedback, reactions, and votes are always appreciated - Don't forget to join the discord!

Spaceport Strike!​

Part Nine: The Stories We Tell Ourselves​

---

Bill is in the middle of talking when you head over to his table, holding your drink. "-So, there I am. My cell's gotten set up on top of one of the intact buildings in Robinson's Hope - You know the ones over there, the ones with flat roofs." The audience nods. "My spotter's keeping watch. I've set up the rifle, and the rest of the team is setting up defensive positions by the stairs for if we get spotted. Then, who do I spot through the scope, but someone in power armor with some infantry - More than that, someone in power armor with their helmet off. This is after the Battle for Central, less than a day after the lines broke there - So, we're not surprised that we're seeing people this way, but we are surprised they've got their helmet off. I tell my spotter - She starts zooming in on him with her binoculars. And then, she goes "Holy shit! Bill, that's the Admiral-King!" - I don't believe my ears, I look again through the scope - No shit, it really is him, with a bunch of MUC troops. I recognized him from that time he showed up on MBC, back when they were with the MUC and pumping out propaganda."

He takes a drink of his 'Water'. "Anyways, there's not a chance we can pass up a shot like this. So, we wait patiently, we track his movement, and we narrow in on where we can get a perfect shot on the route he's taking. I draw a bead, my spotter confirms we're good. He's going to walk right into it, it'll be the cleanest shot of my life." He pauses for dramatic effect, raising a finger.

"And then, I shit you not - A second before I pull the trigger, he turns and looks me dead in the eyes through the scope-" He puts two fingers to his eyes and draws them out, pointing into the crowd. "-full head turn, just staring straight into my soul. Over…what, a quarter of a mile away, maybe half a mile, there's not a chance he should have been able to see us like that, not so fast, not without giving us notice - But he does. And I blink first because that man has nothing in his eyes. It's like looking at a corpse. I hesitate, 'cause of that blink - For just a second, just one second - And he's gone before I pull the trigger. Those troops are scattering into the surrounding buildings, like a swarm of angry ants." The crowd murmurs. Some are disbelieving - But the vast majority seem to accept the telling. The Admiral-King's capabilities at avoiding capture or death have become the subject of storied retellings, from his initial escape from Mariner City with the Dead Crusaders to the ambush the MPA laid for him in Station territory. Bill finishes his drink, shaking his head.

"We wind up clearing out, power armor moves fast, and he might be coming for us - But we're all spooked by that shit, wind up laying low for the next few days. We never see that bastard again, though." He chuckles, before returning to a more serious tone of voice. "But those eyes - Those eyes don't leave me. I know that bastard's out there, and I know he remembers me, too - No way he didn't. And one day he's gonna come settle that score, and either I'm gonna put a bullet between his eyes, or he'll put one through mine. And that is the story of how I almost killed Admiral-King Armstrong during the war." The spell over the crowd, including to at least some extent yourself, is broken by that conclusion, and there's a mild bit of applause from some of the younger militia, and respectful murmurs from those who are more clearly veterans. Bill glances in your direction and gestures for you to join him - One of the people listening gives up their chair to you, with a nod. "This here is Rosie-" You blink at the sudden nickname. "-My boss, at the moment. She's a Conductor of Station, and she served during the war, didn't ya, Rosie?"

"I did, that is correct." You nod. "Why don't ya tell us a story, Rosie? Something interesting you did during the war." You think about the war, and about how what you did in it that could be considered interesting…with some mild exaggeration, of course. "Well, alright. Here's the story of how I helped defend Terraformer Upsilon during the Night of Dust. I'd been stationed there as a well-positioned and well-guarded meeting spot for ODIN, Shanxi, and Station logistics experts to discuss how best to coordinate the movement of soldiers and supplies via the rail lines as part of the LCTF. ODIN needed to get their mercenary bands to the front, Shanxi needed to push deeper into Hephaestus and Mariner City, and of course, we were in the thick of things in Mariner City at the time." You speak plainly, not adding much emphasis in the way of gestures.

"However, none of us realized what was about to hit us - The Church of Red Mars had slipped in infiltrators with guard details. It wasn't anywhere near the force that attacked other terraforming stations, so they didn't have any real chance, but several of them wound up taking some of Shanxi's logistics officers hostage. I was hastily awoken by some of the guards, and wound up helping to negotiate with them to surrender, promising fair treatment under Station law, rather than Shanxi or ODIN. They weren't fanatics, really - More just angry young people, who thought the root cause of the war was terraforming, and that by doing this they could get it to stop. At least one of them had been shot, and I think it put the fear of death back into them." You sigh, remembering their faces as Station personnel loaded them for transit back to the Depot. "Anyways, that's how I helped." The crowd generally seems to react positively, if nowhere near the reaction Bill got. They mostly drift away, now that you're done, back to their drinks and own conversations.

Bill looks over to you as you take a sip of your drink, and find it pleasantly sweet. "Rosie - I've got to be honest with you, you're not a great storyteller." He chuckles, clearly not intending for it to be a harsh comment - But you do frown. You thought that was decent. "I took some liberties to make it more exciting, sure, but I don't think that makes it any less of a good story." Bill raises an eyebrow. "That was more exciting than what really happened? What'd you embellish?" You nod, leaning in. "I didn't actually negotiate with them as I implied - I provided legal advice to the actual negotiator on how best to get them to cooperate. And it was only about two of them. Interrogation after the fact indicated that they hadn't even been given any direction from the Church, they'd just heard about the plans and decided to try attacking Upsilon on their own. It was only because of the chaos of the time that they managed to slip into the guard detail at all." Bill groans, theatrically. "Rosie, you either need to take a drama class at University or you need to get some better stories! You don't talk about how they're just young people, you play up how dangerous they were - Maybe you say you almost got taken hostage and escaped by the skin of your teeth." You raise an eyebrow.

"And how much of your story were you exaggerating, Bill?" He chuckles. "A good storyteller never reveals his secrets - But I'll let ya in on it, 'cause you're my boss. Some of the more…impossible bits, him lookin' me in the eyes, all that business at the end - Sure, I made that up. But I did almost kill the Admiral-King, I wouldn't lie about that - That's the sort of lie that winds up making you have bad luck down the line. Just got unlucky with wind direction and timing, that's all. Man had good reflexes, though, that's for sure - The first shot missing was bad luck, but the second shot missing was all him." You tilt your head. You're still not entirely sure if you believe it actually happened - It'd be difficult to identify if it was the Admiral-King from through a scope, after all. But you do think Bill believes himself, so you won't question it.

"So, Bill - How're you doing?" He shrugs. "Could use another drink, but I'll grab it later. As for more overall…it's been a long day! Won't lie - But I signed up to do this 'cause it'd be doing good, Rosie. Didn't sign up to do nothing. And as much as I might disagree slightly with some of your actions - You're doing things, more 'n any of those guys in charge back at the Stadium would do right now. That's the MPA's ethos, in my opinion - They get shit done, don't let anyone push 'em around. Rutherford's a good solid leader…What I wouldn't give for her to have been born in Stadium when I was a player. She woulda made Manager easily, and we woulda kicked the shit outta those pigs before Central ever made the mistake of waking up." You nod, before bringing up something you noticed, brought back into your mind by the mention of Stadium politics. "I saw that Goalie Dembowski has some problem with you - She was glaring at you? What's that all about?"

He rolls his eyes. "Ugh - She's a real buzzkill, that's what. We ran into each other at a…rowdy fight during one of the rougher seasons - I was on one side, she was on another." He's talking about one of Stadium's football riots, clearly. "Seems she still holds a grudge, I guess. Not like we didn't just give as good as we got from them." He shrugs, then chuckles. "Not like I'm any better. I got a few grudges myself - Though a lot of 'em'll go unfulfilled now." He sighs, looking at his empty glass. "Yeah…lotta the old guard, folks like that, were the veterans during the War - and now they're gone, and a new generation's following behind us. With all these new folks in Stadium, and all the MPA's triumph and centralization - I kinda wonder, will our culture stay the same? Will the things I got to experience in my youth, that made me who I am, be the same for the kids that follow me? Is it even a good thing if they do, even if I'm more comfortable with it?" He shrugs. "I ain't got the answers - So I focus on more material problems." You nod, listening carefully. You don't exactly have an answer, either, so you just sit in silence with him for a minute.

In the lull that follows, you take another sip of your drink, letting the atmosphere wash over you. In the corner, Janice and Millie are laughing at something, both a bit flushed from the alcohol - And perhaps something more, judging from Janice's increased blush after Millie says something to her that you can't hear over the ambient noise of the bar. You'll have to make sure Janice understands any such fraternization doesn't occur until after the mission, if at all. River's raising her glass with a local who sat by the bar, having seemingly finished her conversation with the bartender.

Speaking of, the bartender is turning on the television sitting above the bar, tuning it to a specific channel. MBC's distinctive jingle plays - It's the nightly news broadcast. Groans resound all over the bar, and one person calls out for him to "Turn that junk off!" He waves them off. "It's this or University student programming or the looped UN bullshit - We don't get good Stadium or Station signals out this far! 'Sides, I want to hear the news from Candor, even if it's junk!" The bar settles back down, even as the news begins to play…

---

---

The morning after, your team gathers in the small office that you've had prepared by the Garrison - It's time to start investigating testimony, tying up loose ends, and handling the public of Watson District.


[] We Didn't Start the Fire!

• The FLA's camp was almost burned down, and it was used as an excuse by people dressed as Watson Council Enforcers to almost throw out the entire refugee group until they were stopped by Hellas's forces. Who started the fire? Were the Enforcers legitimate? Did Hellas truly save the refugees? Find the truth.

[] The Triumvirate of Watson District

• Both Alex Byrd and Rosa Lederberg are mysteries to you for the moment, and to a lesser extent, so is Marie Dollfus. Interview them and their 'factions'. Investigate their actions and work within the District. Seek out specifics on who they associate with, and who is loyal to them. See if you can dig up any skeletons in their closet.

[] A Clean Sweep of Corruption

• The Garrison has been accused of corruption, and Laura Brashear claims to have proof that she said would be ready tomorrow. Go get that proof, and start going down the list to verify it and dismantle any institutional corruption that has taken root within the District and Garrison. You'll make sure to interrogate Hellas, as well.

[] Scabbed Over

• You've gotten many conflicting stories on the actions of the FLA after Hellas initially recruited them to scab, which seems to be the trigger that escalated things from a labor dispute to an actual threat to the stability of the District. Investigate their actions thus far in order to sort out how responsible they actually are for escalating the situation.

[] The Scales of Justice

• Announce the crimes for which Hellas was arrested. News of his arrest has already spread like wildfire, but nobody should know exactly what for yet, besides a select few. This is going to take a day because you know that the backlash and public reaction is going to be awful, and you're going to have to spend your entire day managing it.

[] A Discrete Affair

• Look, you're not going to be as rash as the Council and Garrison were, but that doesn't mean that the Laborers aren't at risk of corruption or subversion by anti-MPA elements. Spend your day investigating if they have any ties to the MUC, MEF, University, or anti-MPA forces in general.

QM's Note: Thanks for reading! The Investigation Phase begins, and hopefully I've given a clear explanation of how it'll work! If anyone has any questions, feedback, or comments, I'll be happy to answer them here or in the channel on the Wordsmiths Discord! I'll close the vote in around 38 hours or so.

Rail Tales #58 - Silas Jones and the Relic of the Past!​

[The cover of this issue of RAIL TALES is a picture of Silas Jones in a desert, holding a mysterious canister and looking into its glowing opening with awe - Behind him, an armored figure with glowing red eyes prepares to plunge a dagger into his back.]

There was death lurking in the rolling plains surrounding the small town in Melas Chasma.
Hulking figures watch from atop a hill, a small camp of them below it.
They are mere silhouettes against the vast Martian plains, unable to be seen by the unwary villagers - Surrounded by them!
They were so close to them, yet unable to be seen!
Like spiders, they dangle above these unfortunate souls, weaving their web to ensnare them, until it is too late to escape!
Their sinister intentions are revealed by the weapons worn by them, cruel things designed to make an enemy feel pain and fear before they die.
Blunted maces and ragged daggers, bullets shaped with hatred and sharp edges, the sort used by none other than the most feared shock troops of Enterprise - The Eagle Brigade!
One of them clambers down the hill to join the main group of the Brigade, the hulking frame creaking and groaning with a mechanical weight with each step.
He holds up a hand to his men, identifying himself as The Commander of the Eagle Brigade, the evil cyborg - Count Washington!
"We shall not strike these Station fools yet - For our true enemy has not yet arrived…once he has, we shall spring our trap, and bring an end to that soldier of socialism - SILAS JONES!" He cackles, the gleam of evil shining in his red eyes.

---

Jenny Redson stares down at the page, the words echoing off there in her head - But nothing follows. She knows that it's a good scene break. But she just…isn't sure what to follow it up with. Should she describe Silas Jones, sitting in a vehicle on his way to the village? She sighs, scribbling in a note to her future self. [Introductory scene of Silas Jones. On way to village - Introduce side character/romantic interest for story. Ex-University Researcher]. She'll leave that there, and skip ahead to a section she's feeling more inspiration for.

---

Silas Jones stares at the strange relic shown to him by the Doctor, feeling unnerved by its shine and polish, despite having been buried in the sand beneath the monument for so long.
He makes an effort to lighten the mood by speaking. "So, chum, what is this? Some manner of pre-Collapse technology to aid the war effort?"
"No, no, Silas!" The Doctor shakes his head! "It is an ancient tradition, practiced by the people who lived here long ago, before the Collapse!"
Silas raises his eyebrows! "So it is Pre-Collapse technology, Doc?"
"Only in the sense that it comes from pre-Collapse!" The Doctor chortles, before continuing. "No, this is what was called a 'time capsule' - A way to send messages into the future!"
Silas is taken aback by this - Such a fantastical method, hidden in the ground of this unremarkable village?
"Of course, it can only be done the long way. We're here as a matter of history, Silas - Not time travel!" Both Silas and the Doctor share a hearty laugh, though Silas thinks back to his encounter with the mysterious Sleeper *(See Rail Tales #21), and feels grateful that this container isn't large enough to contain a human being!
"Speaking of history, Doctor…I've been thinking - Perhaps you and I ought to work on a…collaborative project." Silas Jones leans in to the Doctor, who flushes.
"W-well, I'd certainly be…open to it, Mister Jones…Oh, I cannot stand it anymore!" The Doctor stammers, before suddenly leaning up and kissing him!
Unbeknownst to the two embracing men, however, Count Washington makes his move from afar, giving the order to ambush the pair of would-be lovers!
His henchmen leap out, attacking the pair, taking advantage of how they're distracted by each other's lips!
Even Silas Jones's fearsome mastery of University's secret fighting techniques can't overcome the power of the Eagle Brigade's sudden ambush, and he is quickly sent to the land of dreams with a smack to the head by one of their blunted maces, as is the Doctor!
When Silas Jones awakens, he and the Doctor are tied together, dangling from a cliff by their feet. "A fitting fate for a display of such sickening sweetness, don't you think - Silas Jones!" The voice of Count Washington roars out.
"Count Washington! Only you could be behind such a scheme! I should've known that I'd not seen the last of you!" Silas yells back, the blood rushing to his head both because of his position and his rage at such machinations!
"Well, this will be the last I'll see of you, Jones! Now that I've gotten my hands on this pre-Collapse Relic, doubtless containing secrets to a weapon that will win the war, Enterprise will be unstoppable - Not that you'll be around to see it! Have a nice fall, SILAS JONES!" The Count's augmented voice grows further away, his intent clear - Silas is to be left for dead, hanging from the cliff, alongside the Doctor! He must escape - But how?

---

Jenny is eating dinner with her wife. She can't focus, though - It won't leave her mind that she still hasn't written what's inside the container. The rest is coming, slowly but surely, but what rests inside the relic just won't come to her. Should it be blueprints? A map? Some hidden technology? Matilda can tell she's in a funk and quietly leaves the table, giving her some space to think. She appreciates the thought, but honestly, she could use a distraction right now. She's just banging her head into the ground. Maybe a walk would help her think things through. She could go down to the community center and talk with some of the people there - That always helps clear her head.

It's only a short walk, five minutes - She feels lucky that she migrated and got a good spot before…before everything. She loved her home, but she loves Matilda more - And now she only has one of those things. She'll only have one of those things, ever again. She'll never see the Caverns again, walk the streets she played in as a child because they're gone and buried. She kicks the ground, trying not to think about it.

When she gets to the community center, she glances up at the sky and realizes how late it is. The center's open 24/7, but there are never a lot of people here so late at night, so her trip is likely pointless. She goes in anyways, though, seeing the light still on. It's strange how silent it is, at night - Almost eerie. A single woman sits at the desk, clearly just reading a book as she's stuck on night shift, her feet kicked up onto another chair. Jenny approaches the desk.

"Uh, hi - I was wondering…" The volunteer looks up and gasps. "Mars, Jenny?" She blinks. "Uh. Yeah. Do I, uh, know you?" She thinks this might be a fan, but she doesn't publish her picture with the things she writes, and she's refused anyone taking her picture for newspapers and such - She doesn't want fans bothering her and Matilda at their homes, or getting in the way of her daily life. "We grew up together! I was the little sister of Sawyer, you know?" Jenny adjusts her glasses, looking closely at her. She can see it now. Though she's clearly changed from the reedy little girl always following Sawyer around.

"How are you…Laurie, right? Sorry-" "Oh, no, please, don't apologize!" Laurie laughs. "It's fine, I didn't expect you to remember. How are you?" Jenny swallows and starts trying to figure out how to explain her life, before just settling on- "Good. I'm good. How are you?" Laurie shrugs. "Oh, it's been rough. Been rough for a while. But, uh - I'm doing better now! I took advantage of the amnesty offer, and the Refugee Office got me this shift, so I can help out a bit." Jenny realizes, suddenly, that she's been staring at Laurie's eyes - And now that she glances at her face, that she's got scars. Mars. Little Laurie, a soldier. A guerilla. What has the world come to?

Jenny feels as if she has to ask. "Uh…How's Sawyer? Were you with her-" Laurie's face falls. "Oh, I guess you didn't hear." Jenny knows what's coming as soon as the words are out of Laurie's mouth - As soon as she saw Laurie's face, practically. She knows many of her old friends are dead. She doesn't need to hear it - She's heard it a hundred times already, every time she runs into someone she used to know - "Oh, I'm so sorry, I thought you knew-" "Oh, I thought you heard…" "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but…"

Jenny comes back into awareness with Laurie's voice still going. "So, yeah. She, uh…fuck, hah-" Laurie laughs a little, voice cracking just a bit. "Feels kinda pointless, now, right? Here I am, sitting in a Station community center, volunteering as a night shift librarian. I thought I was gonna die out there, with her. But I didn't! I'm alive! Woohoo!" She lifts her arms to the ceiling, laughing. Jenny blinks. "How can you laugh?" She pauses, as if in disbelief that she just said that. Laurie blinks, too, then keeps laughing. Wheezing laughter. Laughter so intense, it starts to make her cry.

"I-" She chuckles, drying her tears with her arm. "I laugh because I have to! I can't change it, right? My sister would've wanted me to be happy. To live happily - That's what she fought for, in the end! Not so I could die out in the desert. So, when I heard the offer, I decided that's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna live my life in happiness, and everytime I feel sad, I'm gonna laugh instead - Because everytime I laugh, I know my sister's laughing with me. And one day, I'll get to go home again, and I'll make sure she gets a proper memorial there, in the Caverns - On that wall we all carved our names onto because we were sure it was gonna last forever. And if that means I need to rebuild that damn wall, I will, because I know that this time, it's gonna last forever. And then, I'm gonna get the last laugh on her, because I'm gonna put my name just a bit over hers just like she did to me!" She goes into another laughing fit, just giggling hysterically.

And this time, Jenny laughs, too. And once she's done laughing, she listens and spends the rest of the night sharing stories with Laurie, not just about Sawyer, but about all of their little group of friends. By the time she's almost drifting off, she knows she has to go home - But she promises that one day, she'll go to the Caverns with Laurie, and they'll rebuild that damn wall together, if they have to, and rewrite all the names on it. Laurie waves her off with one last laugh, even as Jenny walks back into the night, to collapse into bed by her wife.

---

Silas Jones clutches the relic to his chest, even as the Doctor drives him back towards the Depot. So much fighting, so much villainy - For what? For him, a single man? For the fact that this relic might contain Pre-Collapse secrets? It all seems so pointless!
He must know what's inside - What could be worth such suffering.
He twists the capsule open, the soft snake-like hiss of its opening apparatus obscured by the hum of the engine.
Inside, there rests a folded piece of paper, atop strange objects, which he takes out.
Inside, there is a letter - Old and yellowed with the passage of time that even the relic could not stop.

"Dear People of the Future,

We hope you have opened this message at a time of peace - In a time of laughter and hope, where loss and grief are things of the past, barely recognized. It is a hope we cherish deeply, in our experience, as self-inflicted doom hangs over our heads, and things seem dire. We hope for many things - Forgiveness for our mistakes, legacy for our deeds, happiness for all humanity, but most of all we hope for the future you have. Perhaps we will not survive to see that future in our time, but we know it will come in yours, because we have faith that the world that our children shall build from the ashes of the old will be one where kindness and community triumphs. We do not know what shape your world will take, or what shape you will take, but we hope it is one that you take pleasure in - One that gives you what you need. Enclosed in this time capsule are mementos and images of our time, of our families, what we lived like. Perhaps these will be strange and alien to you, or perhaps they will be familiar objects. But if you take anything at all from this time capsule - please let it be the knowledge that though we are separated by the vast gulf of time and life, we love you and believe in your ability to build the new world we dream of, where the evils that we face are at last laid to rest.

Sincerely,
The People of the Past."

And Silas cannot help but laugh, as the sun rises over the horizon and he rides off into it with his friend and lover, filled with new vigor and purpose.

A new day dawns on Mars - And as surely as the sun rises, Silas Jones knows that he will continue to fight for the future that the people of the past dreamed of!
Even though fearsome villains such as Count Washington may escape and continue to fight, they are but relics of the dead past!
They cannot stop the will of the people to move forward, that silent harmony of solidarity that will bring about the dream of all humanity!
The work of Silas Jones and his comrades shall continue, unabated, until all of Mars is united under that dream - Socialism!
Thus ends the tale of Silas Jones and the Relic of the Past!

QM's Note: Thanks for reading! Full credit for the idea of writing some Silas Jones (and Jenny Redson) to @maelstrom.seeker, who suggested it to me. This is just a fun side story caused by me being struck with writing fever at 1 AM, but I hope y'all enjoyed it regardless. If anyone wants to suggest future side-story topics, I'd be happy to hear suggestions in the Discord channel!