The Shipwright's deserve some love - and I had an idea.
A Legacy Of War - Their fight was long. It was bloody. It took much, demanded more, and destroyed all. Hands were fed to its slavering maw, bodies broken upon the anvil of war, souls sacrificed with every day, and the howling of those left behind by the honored dead grew silent with each one taken to the front. And yet, the war is long over. The scars are there...but the wounds have healed. The children grow strong, no longer slaving to create guns but chafing as they are forced to learn to read and write. It is an odd thing for one who has witnessed it all...yet they find it a good oddity.
(Focus: A veteran of the 621 United Cults War dies. They recall the changes, good and bad, as their soul slips away into oblivion.)
The
Jubilation of the People was quiet.
The flagship of the Shipwright's Alliance, the pride of their fleet, the seven-plus kilometer warship was in truth a city full to the brim with people. They worked and played and raised children throughout the massive hull. There was always at least one raucous party, one drunken bash, one angry fight going on within its bowels.
But not today. Today, The
Jubilation of the People was losing its captain, and the people who called the ship home were respectfully silent, waiting for the captains' words of farewell. Many had tried to beg her to stay, to continue her duty towards the Alliance and rule over their ship. But she had politely replied to every message that reached her. The bone-chilling fatigue in those replies had convinced those who received them to hold any further entireties and spread the word not to bother the captian in her last days.
Jessina was
tired. She'd outlived her children, and her children's children. She had captained this ship for a hundred and ninety years, ever since her last ship, the light cruiser
Torch of the Worthy had been destroyed at the hands of the United Cults. The previous Capitan of the
Jubiliation had been assassinated by a cult inside the Alliance at the same time, and she'd taken command of the flagship and pride of the fleet in the following attack. It hadn't been a matter considered by committee as was standard today, but rather a case of being in the right place at the right time with the right skills. And after that, she'd been the Captain.
She mused on that war as she considered her speech. She'd written and discarded dozens of drafts of this speech in preparation for today. Though 'written' was the wrong word. She hadn't held anything physical for the last hundred and twenty years. At this point she was little better than a brain in a vat, though at least the vat was still her skull. So many parts of her had been merged into the ship that it was hard to tell where it ended and she began. Many of the technologies involved were not understood, pieces found in old mechanicus stockpiles and assembled from vague instructions by genius technicians who still didn't understand how they worked.
Indeed, for the last hundred years Jessina had considered herself to
be the ship. She listened through its sensors and networks, felt the burning fires of the engines and communed with the
Jubilation's machine spirit in a way that made her feel... whole. Like she'd been missing a half of herself, and by joining to the righteous joy of the
Jubilation of the People had been made whole.
But the process was not perfect. Mars' technology had done wonders to sustain her, to allow her to control this ship as if it was an extension of her own body far past when her flesh body had failed her. But it was not perfect, and she knew that. Her emotions were dulled now, and she could not name one new thing she had learned in the last hundred years. And she was just so
tired. Her people deserved a captian who could change with the times, one who shared their emotions, looked forward to each new day and served for a reason other than duty. They deserved a last speech from her that looked to the future, instead of looking to the past.
However, that was one thing that Jessina could not deliver. She had been molded by the Cult Wars, the apocalyptic struggle that had defined the military of the Shipwright's Alliance. None of the new blood could see it, but Jessina saw the traces of that war everywhere she looked. The promotion by merit, to prevent smooth-tongued cultists from becoming leaders. The lance-heavy frigates, to match the daemon-ships without allowing them to close the distance. The war against the Cults was baked into the very foundation of the Alliance's military practices.
Still, she would do her duty this one, last time. Without much of a plan, she clicked open the ship-wide channel.
"My crew." The words rumbled down the passages of the entire ship, a gentle thunder compared to the harsh crash of battle orders.
"I have served our Alliance for Two hundred and fifty years. I fought in the Cult Wars, against pirates and Xenos and rebels. In that time, I have commanded many crews." She paused, memory shifting over faces long dead. She remembered her first officers from her first ship, as well as those aboard when she'd taken command of the
Jubilation of the People so long ago. But she did not know any of the officers of her ship today. She could not remember any of the people who'd served in the last fifty years. There was only the ship and its operations. To them, she
was the ship.
"I am a veteran of the Cult Wars. I know all of you have learned of it, and I am not speaking to give you a history lesson. But I am the last surviving veteran of that... struggle. It was not truly a war. To call it as such is to do the dead a disservice. It was a brawl, a vicious no-holds-barred fight against an enemy beyond imagination. An enemy that was a furnace, consuming everything fed to it as fuel, every life and every death fueling the flame higher and burning us all to ash."
Her voice grew pained. "I was also burned. I watched all but two of my siblings die in that war, on the ground or in the void. It was a crushing thing, a fight unending against a foe unstoppable. It changed us, all those who fought in those times. We were veterans of horror, survivors of Chaos. For a hundred years after the war my crew bore the scars, as elder passed those lessons and traumas off to junior. But you have lost those lessons, that burn-scar hardness that my crews once had."
Throughout the ship people looked lost, wounded at being told they would not measure up against their ancestors by one of those ancestors.
But Jessina was not done. "I would not have it any other way. We are a proud people, who hold the legacy of our victories dearly. But those victories have bought us
peace. You and your parents and your children have been untroubled by by the furnace of total war. And here I speak, as a voice from our past, to remind you that it exists, and may come again.
"For the veterans of yesteryear would be
proud to see you. You are what we fought for. Your ability to live, and be happy. For children to learn their letters and numbers instead of practice their aim and count their rounds. My first crew cried tears of blood to fight for you, and if they saw you now they would cry joyful tears of salt.
"Take pride in yourself, and your luxuries. Do not think yourself worse than your ancestors because they lived harder times than you. Be comfortable in your lives, for that was what our heroics purchased."
She fell silent, and considered leaving it there. That was a good message. It would be a good parting gift to her final crew. But her duty propelled her onwards. It was not a duty to these children, not really. It was a duty to their ancestors, those she'd originally served with. They would want their children to carry one more lesson with them. Learn one more thing from her, before she passed.
"But do not forget. Your lives were bought with blood and fire and sacrifice. The great enemy will come again. I speak from the past to tell you to never grow complacent. This Galaxy is harsh, and if we are not prepared for it then our people will once more be required to sacrifice everything to ensure our future. I give you my final command, before I die.
Be ready. Find every advantage against any foe that would see us burned, and know which enemies
must be fought.
"Do not mistake me. Against normal foes, fight normally. Fight and speak and live your lives happily, for to find joy in this Galaxy is a victory. I do not speak of the enemies of today. I warn against the enemy that cannot be tolerated, those who would corrupt our homes and our people and kill all we hold dear. Against those enemies, every weapon is to be used, every ally is to be courted. Do not make the error we made, distrustful and scared as we were. Find those you can make common cause with, for they are one more weapon to fight your true enemies.
"The Mashan are tolerable, for Xenos, and the Federation are as kind a neighbor as we could ask for. Do not keep them distant. We may disagree with them, but they will never scour us from our worlds as a true enemy would. A loss against them is not a true loss. Bring them close, so that when another War to the End approaches, there are those who would stand with us against it." Her mind drifted back, to arguments made centuries past. "If we had done that from the start, the wars would have been better. Less would have been lost. Less would have been sacrificed."
Jessina winced internally. She'd started to ramble, to vent internal thoughts she had not spoken aloud in living memory. Her message was being diluted. It was time to end things, once and for all.
"Take heart, my crew. You have lived softer lives than crews of the past, but I would have it no other way. Live your lives well, respect your new Captain as if they spoke with my voice, and be ready if ever a True Foe should intrude upon us again. A War to the End is a terrible thing, and you will know it when it comes for you."
Jessina turned off the vox, then directed her attention elsewhere. When she'd been placed into this tube, she'd demanded to have the controls to switch it all off placed inside. With every additional procedure, she'd maintained the capability to disable her life-support if necessary. Now, she finally used that capability. It was calm, and she finally, finally drifted off to a restful sleep.
Unbeknownst to her, hundreds of people had individually recorded her words, and they winged their way through the Alliance as quickly as they could be carried. After all, the words of the elders were to be respected, and who had been wiser than the Captain?