DATELINE: SESEN: Part Seven - [Comm-Links](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links) - DATELINE: SESEN: Part Seven DATELINE: SESEN: Part Seven =========================== Undefined Undefined Dateline: Sesen [Previous](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/13632) [Next](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/13635) Content ------- English Governor Tentopet Jones: Soldier for Truth, Justice, and the Outer System Way, or Just Another Corrupt Public Official? A long time passed before Martinez returned with a gaggle of guards and the spare pantsuit. Once he’d made his delivery he left again, without a word to Jones. Yadav was freed, then left alone to change. The eggplant colored suit was too tight and too long, but it would have to do. It felt good to be dressed like a professional again. That robe had left her open, vulnerable, in ways she couldn’t fully appreciate until she was once more properly clothed. The interview party totaled seven; Yadav, Jones and five bodyguards. They split between Jones’ Connie and a second transport, then flew to the bottom of the hill. There they abandoned the protection of the ships and began a leisurely stroll through the dust-covered streets. Surprisingly, Jones threaded her arm through Yadav’s. They walked linked together like old schoolmates, while the guards trailed behind like a pack of local strays. Sometimes Yadav had to constantly ask questions in order for an interviewee to open up. Not Jones. She clearly had a story to tell, and had been waiting for someone to share it with. But she didn’t begin right away. Comfortable silence settled over them as Jones led them onto a main thoroughfare — the only paved street. Hot sunshine beat down on the dry asphalt, warm enough to make Yadav’s skin prickle without summoning forth gallons of sweat. The people did not shy away as the governor’s party approached. No one spat. But neither did they break down in tears of false hero-worship, like so many dictators demanded. They were cordial, polite. Young mothers carried infants in baby slings, or braced toddlers against their hips, while bargaining for baked goods. Several old men and women worked hand in hand to patch a crumbling mud wall. Dirty children kicked at a deflated ball — the older ones shouting to one another with the authority of professional athletes. “These smiles —” Jones said, pointing to two young girls making a pyramid out of pebbles — “Are hard won. “Only those under twenty are native to this planet — Sesen, we’ve named it. Means ‘lotus flower,’ symbol of rebirth. Most of us are original colonists — displaced persons. Since the first surge, no one new has come. If you’d arrived a decade and a half ago, you would have seen why. We are not your typical colony.” Yadav’s attention split. While Jones spoke, her ears (and her recorder) listened intently. But her eyes fixated on their surroundings, taking mental snapshots. There were no dogs, no cats, no chickens running wild. None of the animals she’d come to associate with a poverty-stricken area. She realized she hadn’t seen a single bird or rat since crawling out of her downed craft. A lone lizard, streaking from the shade of one building into that of another, was a novelty — a rare sign of non-Human life. The colony didn’t have enough scraps to support anything besides its people. “This isn’t good land, is it?” she asked. “Deemed unsuitable for colonization by the UEE?” “Yes. But official terraforming results don’t mean much. No one simply abandons a planet after all that work has gone into it. The surveyors don’t shrug their shoulders and leave. Even though it was worthless, they found a way to make a profit. “Traffickers came to my home station. Gathered us all together, and told us about this grand new frontier. They convinced my parents it was as rich as the Nile delta of old — I think one of them recognized my name. Tentopet was an Egyptian queen. My mother was obsessed with the history of the ancients — their habits, their food, their dress. The traffickers spun mother a story that put lights in her eyes. “Wei is the son of my mother’s brother. His parents and my parents gave their life savings to the people-movers, so that we could start anew in this glorious paradise.” Sarcasm dripped from her tongue, but it was devoid of true contempt. “When we made our fortunes we were to go back for them.” Subtly, Yadav continued to survey every person who came within view, and a strange pattern emerged. There was not an unattached, able-bodied man or woman in sight. The only virile adults were those with small children. Yadav hadn’t seen any single persons between the ages of fifteen and fifty who weren’t part of the governor’s party. Where were all of the adults? They weren’t poking out of shop fronts or darning clothes or building structures — they were simply absent. Surely not all of them were needed up on the governor’s hill. She made a mental note, but kept the observation to herself. An elderly man offered Jones a chunk of bread from the loaf he’d ripped apart for his grandchildren. She accepted it with a small bow. “What’s it like living here?” Yadav asked the man, “Compared to where you come from?” “Warmer,” he said. His voice carried the tremors of old age, and the gravel of someone who had abused his lungs in youth. “Climate’s pretty mild. Can’t grow much, though. Even now that we don’t have to pay the tax.” Yadav glanced sideways at Jones. “What tax?” “The Surveyors’ tax. The traffickers dumped us here, and the Surveyors thought their cut had been too little. Since they owned the land — sanctioned or not — they taxed us in goods. The best we could grow went to them.” “You starved and worked the land, or you starved and were buried under it,” said the grandfather. “They didn’t care. They don’t come ’round anymore, so we get to keep it all. But the ground is weak, and the water isn’t good — oceans and lakes are so full of toxic bacteria, we could never filter it enough. Clean rain almost never pools. It seeps right down and out of reach.” Yadav pressed the toe of her pump against a crack at the edge of the asphalt. The dirt crumpled away, thinning to dust. No little bits of grass or random weeds held it together. “What happened to the Surveyors?” “Ask this young lady right here,” he said, pointing his thumb at Jones. “She and ’er crew organized us against them. We drove ’em away but good.” He laughed lightly at the memory, revealing his broken teeth. “Crew?” “Myself, Wei and a few others from our home station. Stole some of their ships —” “And gave ’em reason enough never to come nosing around Sesen again,” the man finished, slapping his knee. Jones smiled. “Afterward, we threw together a loose government and started to try to make this our home, for real. I was only supposed to lead temporarily. But here I am, well over a decade later. I’ve offered to step down —” Sure, Yadav thought cynically. “— but we won’t have her resignation,” confirmed the old man. “So, when you introduce yourself as ‘Governor Jones’…?” “It’s unsanctioned, unrecognized. None of us are Citizens. How could we be? I don’t think the UEE knows we exist.” Yadav thanked the man for answering her questions, and she and Jones moved on. A stiff wind wafted into Yadav’s face. It carried the scent of roasting grains, compost rot and hot metal. “You’ve kept your promise, then?” she asked after a long break in conversation. Jones looked confused. “Which promise was that?” “To bring your parents here when you made your fortune. They must be getting on in years.” “They aren’t here yet. We aren’t ready. But we’re working on it. A new prosperity will be coming to our people. We’ll do more than scratch out a living. We’ll thrive. And then Wei and I will go back to our home station and collect everyone. Not just our parents. Cousins, nieces, nephews. Everyone we can.” “Sounds lovely,” Yadav conceded. “But where will this ‘new prosperity’ spring from? Your resources don’t seem adequate for trade off worl —” A sharp series of consecutive pops rang out. Puffs of dust burst from the ground at Yadav’s feet, and she instinctively jumped back. She was all too familiar with gunfire. to be continued … Gouverneur Tentopet Jones: Soldat für Wahrheit, Gerechtigkeit und den äußeren Systemweg, oder nur ein weiterer korrupter Beamter? Es verging lange Zeit, bis Martinez mit einer Schar von Wachen und dem Ersatzhosenanzug zurückkehrte. Nachdem er seine Lieferung gemacht hatte, ging er wieder, ohne ein Wort zu Jones zu sagen. Yadav wurde befreit und dann allein gelassen, um sich zu ändern. Der auberginenfarbene Anzug war zu eng und zu lang, aber es musste reichen. Es fühlte sich gut an, wieder wie ein Profi angezogen zu sein. Dieses Gewand hatte sie offen, verletzlich und auf eine Art und Weise zurückgelassen, die sie nicht ganz verstehen konnte, bis sie wieder richtig gekleidet war. Die Interviewgruppe umfasste sieben; Yadav, Jones und fünf Bodyguards. Sie teilten sich zwischen Jones' Connie und einem zweiten Transport auf und flogen dann zum Fuß des Hügels. Dort gaben sie den Schutz der Schiffe auf und begannen einen gemütlichen Spaziergang durch die staubbedeckten Straßen. Überraschenderweise schob Jones ihren Arm durch Yadavs. Sie gingen wie alte Schulkameraden miteinander verbunden, während die Wachen wie ein Rudel einheimischer Streuner hinterherliefen. Manchmal musste Yadav ständig Fragen stellen, damit sich ein Befragter öffnen konnte. Nicht Jones. Sie hatte eindeutig eine Geschichte zu erzählen und darauf gewartet, dass jemand sie mit ihr teilt. Aber sie hat nicht sofort angefangen. Bequeme Stille lag über ihnen, als Jones sie auf eine Hauptverkehrsstraße führte - die einzige gepflasterte Straße. Heißer Sonnenschein prasselte auf den trockenen Asphalt, warm genug, um Yadavs Haut zum Kribbeln zu bringen, ohne Gallonen von Schweiß hervorzurufen. Das Volk scheute sich nicht, als sich die Partei des Gouverneurs näherte. Niemand spuckte. Aber sie brachen auch nicht in Tränen der falschen Heldenverehrung zusammen, wie es so viele Diktatoren gefordert hatten. Sie waren herzlich, höflich. Junge Mütter trugen Säuglinge in Babytragetüchern oder befestigten Kleinkinder an den Hüften, während sie um Backwaren handelten. Mehrere alte Männer und Frauen arbeiteten Hand in Hand, um eine bröckelnde Schlammmauer zu reparieren. Schmutzige Kinder traten bei einem entleerten Ball - die Älteren schrien sich mit der Autorität von Profisportlern gegenseitig an. "Diese Lächeln -" Jones sagte und zeigte auf zwei junge Mädchen, die eine Pyramide aus Kieselsteinen machten - "Sind hart erkämpft. "Nur die unter Zwanzigjährigen sind auf diesem Planeten beheimatet - Sesen, wir haben ihn genannt. Bedeutet "Lotusblume", Symbol der Wiedergeburt. Die meisten von uns sind ursprüngliche Kolonisten - Vertriebene. Seit der ersten Welle ist niemand Neues gekommen. Wenn du vor anderthalb Jahrzehnten angekommen wärst, hättest du gesehen, warum. Wir sind keine typische Kolonie." Yadavs Aufmerksamkeit wurde aufgeteilt. Während Jones sprach, hörten ihre Ohren (und ihre Blockflöte) aufmerksam zu. Aber ihre Augen fixierten sich auf ihre Umgebung und machten mentale Schnappschüsse. Es gab keine Hunde, keine Katzen, keine Hühner, die wild herumlaufen. Keines der Tiere, die sie mit einem von Armut geplagten Gebiet in Verbindung bringen wollte. Sie erkannte, dass sie keinen einzigen Vogel oder keine einzige Ratte gesehen hatte, seit sie aus ihrem heruntergekommenen Schiff gekrochen war. Eine einsame Eidechse, die sich vom Schatten eines Gebäudes in das eines anderen streift, war eine Neuheit - ein seltenes Zeichen für ein nicht-menschliches Leben. Die Kolonie hatte nicht genug Abfälle, um etwas anderes als ihre Bewohner zu versorgen. "Das ist kein gutes Land, oder?", fragte sie. "Für ungeeignet zur Kolonisation durch die UEE gehalten?" "Ja. Aber offizielle Terraforming-Ergebnisse bedeuten nicht viel. Niemand verlässt einfach einen Planeten, nachdem all die Arbeit in ihn investiert wurde. Die Gutachter zucken nicht mit den Schultern und gehen. Obwohl es wertlos war, fanden sie einen Weg, um Gewinne zu erzielen. "Die Händler kamen zu meiner Heimatstation. Er hat uns alle zusammengebracht und uns von dieser großen neuen Grenze erzählt. Sie überzeugten meine Eltern, dass es so reich wie das alte Nildelta war - ich glaube, einer von ihnen erkannte meinen Namen. Tentopet war eine ägyptische Königin. Meine Mutter war besessen von der Geschichte der Ältesten - ihren Gewohnheiten, ihrem Essen, ihrer Kleidung. Die Menschenhändler drehten ihre Mutter eine Geschichte, die ihr Lichter in die Augen legte. "Wei ist der Sohn des Bruders meiner Mutter. Seine Eltern und meine Eltern gaben ihre Ersparnisse an die Menschen, die umziehen, damit wir in diesem herrlichen Paradies von vorne anfangen konnten." Sarkasmus tropfte von ihrer Zunge, aber er war frei von wahrer Verachtung. "Als wir unser Vermögen gemacht haben, sollten wir zu ihnen zurückkehren." Subtil befragte Yadav weiterhin jede Person, die in Sichtweite kam, und es entstand ein seltsames Muster. Es war kein ungebundener, kräftiger Mann oder eine Frau in Sicht. Die einzigen männlichen Erwachsenen waren diejenigen mit kleinen Kindern. Yadav hatte keine einzigen Personen im Alter zwischen fünfzehn und fünfzig Jahren gesehen, die nicht der Partei des Gouverneurs angehörten. Wo waren die ganzen Erwachsenen? Sie stießen nicht aus den Ladenfronten, stopften Kleidung oder Gebäudekonstruktionen - sie waren einfach abwesend. Sicherlich wurden nicht alle von ihnen auf dem Hügel des Gouverneurs gebraucht. Sie machte eine mentale Notiz, behielt aber die Beobachtung für sich. Ein älterer Mann bot Jones ein Stück Brot von dem Laib an, das er für seine Enkelkinder zerrissen hatte. Sie nahm es mit einer kleinen Schleife an. "Wie ist es, hier zu leben?" Yadav fragte den Mann: "Im Vergleich zu dem, wo du herkommst?" "Wärmer", sagte er. Seine Stimme trug das Zittern des Alters und den Kies von jemandem, der seine Lunge in der Jugend missbraucht hatte. "Das Klima ist ziemlich mild. Kann aber nicht viel wachsen. Selbst jetzt, wo wir die Steuer nicht zahlen müssen." Yadav blickte seitwärts auf Jones. " Welche Steuer?" " Die Steuer der Gutachter. Die Schlepper haben uns hier abgesetzt, und die Vermesser dachten, ihr Anteil sei zu gering. Da sie das Land besaßen - ob sanktioniert oder nicht - besteuerten sie uns mit Waren. Das Beste, was wir anbauen konnten, ging an sie." "Du hast gehungert und das Land bearbeitet, oder du hast gehungert und wurdest darunter begraben", sagte der Großvater. "Es war ihnen egal. Sie kommen nicht mehr vorbei, also können wir alles behalten. Aber der Boden ist schwach, und das Wasser ist nicht gut - Ozeane und Seen sind so voll von giftigen Bakterien, dass wir sie nie genug filtern konnten. Sauberer Regen ist fast nie ein Teich. Es sickert direkt nach unten und außer Reichweite." Yadav drückte die Zehe ihrer Pumpe gegen einen Riss am Rand des Asphalts. Der Schmutz zerknitterte und verdünnte sich zu Staub. Keine kleinen Grashalme oder zufälliges Unkraut hielten es zusammen. "Was ist mit den Vermessungsingenieuren passiert?" "Frag diese junge Dame hier", sagte er und zeigte mit dem Daumen auf Jones. "Sie und ihre Crew haben uns gegen sie organisiert. Wir haben sie weggefahren, aber gut." Er lachte leicht über die Erinnerung und enthüllte seine gebrochenen Zähne. " Crew?" "Ich selbst, Wei und ein paar andere von unserer Heimatstation. Sie haben einige ihrer Schiffe gestohlen -" "Und gab ihnen Grund genug, nie wieder in Sesen herumzuschnüffeln", beendete der Mann und schlug sich aufs Knie. Jones lächelte. "Danach warfen wir eine lose Regierung zusammen und begannen zu versuchen, dies zu unserem Zuhause zu machen, wirklich. Ich sollte nur vorübergehend leiten. Aber hier bin ich, weit über ein Jahrzehnt später. Ich habe angeboten, zurückzutreten -" Sicher, Yadav dachte zynisch. "- aber wir werden ihren Rücktritt nicht zulassen", bestätigte der alte Mann. "Also, wenn du dich als "Gouverneur Jones" vorstellst....?" "Es ist unbestätigt, unerkannt. Keiner von uns ist Bürger. Wie könnten wir das sein? Ich glaube nicht, dass die UEE weiß, dass wir existieren." Yadav dankte dem Mann für die Beantwortung ihrer Fragen, und sie und Jones machten weiter. Ein steifer Wind wehte in Yadavs Gesicht. Es trug den Duft von Röstkörnern, Kompostfäule und Roheisen. "Du hast also dein Versprechen gehalten?", fragte sie nach einer langen Gesprächspause. Jones sah verwirrt aus. "Welches Versprechen war das?" "Um deine Eltern hierher zu bringen, als du dein Vermögen gemacht hast. Sie müssen in Jahren weitermachen." "Sie sind noch nicht hier. Wir sind noch nicht bereit. Aber wir arbeiten daran. Ein neuer Wohlstand wird zu unserem Volk kommen. Wir werden mehr tun, als nur den Lebensunterhalt zu verdienen. Wir werden erfolgreich sein. Und dann gehen Wei und ich zurück zu unserer Heimatstation und holen alle ab. Nicht nur unsere Eltern. Cousins, Nichten, Neffen. Jeder, den wir können." "Klingt schön", räumte Yadav ein. "Aber woher kommt dieser "neue Wohlstand"? Deine Ressourcen scheinen nicht ausreichend zu sein, um die Welt abzuwägen -" Eine scharfe Serie von aufeinanderfolgenden Pops ertönte. Zu Yadavs Füßen sprangen Staubwolken aus dem Boden, und sie sprang instinktiv zurück. Sie war nur allzu vertraut mit Schüssen. wird fortgesetzt..... Governor Tentopet Jones: Soldier for Truth, Justice, and the Outer System Way, or Just Another Corrupt Public Official? A long time passed before Martinez returned with a gaggle of guards and the spare pantsuit. Once he’d made his delivery he left again, without a word to Jones. Yadav was freed, then left alone to change. The eggplant colored suit was too tight and too long, but it would have to do. It felt good to be dressed like a professional again. That robe had left her open, vulnerable, in ways she couldn’t fully appreciate until she was once more properly clothed. The interview party totaled seven; Yadav, Jones and five bodyguards. They split between Jones’ Connie and a second transport, then flew to the bottom of the hill. There they abandoned the protection of the ships and began a leisurely stroll through the dust-covered streets. Surprisingly, Jones threaded her arm through Yadav’s. They walked linked together like old schoolmates, while the guards trailed behind like a pack of local strays. Sometimes Yadav had to constantly ask questions in order for an interviewee to open up. Not Jones. She clearly had a story to tell, and had been waiting for someone to share it with. But she didn’t begin right away. Comfortable silence settled over them as Jones led them onto a main thoroughfare — the only paved street. Hot sunshine beat down on the dry asphalt, warm enough to make Yadav’s skin prickle without summoning forth gallons of sweat. The people did not shy away as the governor’s party approached. No one spat. But neither did they break down in tears of false hero-worship, like so many dictators demanded. They were cordial, polite. Young mothers carried infants in baby slings, or braced toddlers against their hips, while bargaining for baked goods. Several old men and women worked hand in hand to patch a crumbling mud wall. Dirty children kicked at a deflated ball — the older ones shouting to one another with the authority of professional athletes. “These smiles —” Jones said, pointing to two young girls making a pyramid out of pebbles — “Are hard won. “Only those under twenty are native to this planet — Sesen, we’ve named it. Means ‘lotus flower,’ symbol of rebirth. Most of us are original colonists — displaced persons. Since the first surge, no one new has come. If you’d arrived a decade and a half ago, you would have seen why. We are not your typical colony.” Yadav’s attention split. While Jones spoke, her ears (and her recorder) listened intently. But her eyes fixated on their surroundings, taking mental snapshots. There were no dogs, no cats, no chickens running wild. None of the animals she’d come to associate with a poverty-stricken area. She realized she hadn’t seen a single bird or rat since crawling out of her downed craft. A lone lizard, streaking from the shade of one building into that of another, was a novelty — a rare sign of non-Human life. The colony didn’t have enough scraps to support anything besides its people. “This isn’t good land, is it?” she asked. “Deemed unsuitable for colonization by the UEE?” “Yes. But official terraforming results don’t mean much. No one simply abandons a planet after all that work has gone into it. The surveyors don’t shrug their shoulders and leave. Even though it was worthless, they found a way to make a profit. “Traffickers came to my home station. Gathered us all together, and told us about this grand new frontier. They convinced my parents it was as rich as the Nile delta of old — I think one of them recognized my name. Tentopet was an Egyptian queen. My mother was obsessed with the history of the ancients — their habits, their food, their dress. The traffickers spun mother a story that put lights in her eyes. “Wei is the son of my mother’s brother. His parents and my parents gave their life savings to the people-movers, so that we could start anew in this glorious paradise.” Sarcasm dripped from her tongue, but it was devoid of true contempt. “When we made our fortunes we were to go back for them.” Subtly, Yadav continued to survey every person who came within view, and a strange pattern emerged. There was not an unattached, able-bodied man or woman in sight. The only virile adults were those with small children. Yadav hadn’t seen any single persons between the ages of fifteen and fifty who weren’t part of the governor’s party. Where were all of the adults? They weren’t poking out of shop fronts or darning clothes or building structures — they were simply absent. Surely not all of them were needed up on the governor’s hill. She made a mental note, but kept the observation to herself. An elderly man offered Jones a chunk of bread from the loaf he’d ripped apart for his grandchildren. She accepted it with a small bow. “What’s it like living here?” Yadav asked the man, “Compared to where you come from?” “Warmer,” he said. His voice carried the tremors of old age, and the gravel of someone who had abused his lungs in youth. “Climate’s pretty mild. Can’t grow much, though. Even now that we don’t have to pay the tax.” Yadav glanced sideways at Jones. “What tax?” “The Surveyors’ tax. The traffickers dumped us here, and the Surveyors thought their cut had been too little. Since they owned the land — sanctioned or not — they taxed us in goods. The best we could grow went to them.” “You starved and worked the land, or you starved and were buried under it,” said the grandfather. “They didn’t care. They don’t come ’round anymore, so we get to keep it all. But the ground is weak, and the water isn’t good — oceans and lakes are so full of toxic bacteria, we could never filter it enough. Clean rain almost never pools. It seeps right down and out of reach.” Yadav pressed the toe of her pump against a crack at the edge of the asphalt. The dirt crumpled away, thinning to dust. No little bits of grass or random weeds held it together. “What happened to the Surveyors?” “Ask this young lady right here,” he said, pointing his thumb at Jones. “She and ’er crew organized us against them. We drove ’em away but good.” He laughed lightly at the memory, revealing his broken teeth. “Crew?” “Myself, Wei and a few others from our home station. Stole some of their ships —” “And gave ’em reason enough never to come nosing around Sesen again,” the man finished, slapping his knee. Jones smiled. “Afterward, we threw together a loose government and started to try to make this our home, for real. I was only supposed to lead temporarily. But here I am, well over a decade later. I’ve offered to step down —” Sure, Yadav thought cynically. “— but we won’t have her resignation,” confirmed the old man. “So, when you introduce yourself as ‘Governor Jones’…?” “It’s unsanctioned, unrecognized. None of us are Citizens. How could we be? I don’t think the UEE knows we exist.” Yadav thanked the man for answering her questions, and she and Jones moved on. A stiff wind wafted into Yadav’s face. It carried the scent of roasting grains, compost rot and hot metal. “You’ve kept your promise, then?” she asked after a long break in conversation. Jones looked confused. “Which promise was that?” “To bring your parents here when you made your fortune. They must be getting on in years.” “They aren’t here yet. We aren’t ready. But we’re working on it. A new prosperity will be coming to our people. We’ll do more than scratch out a living. We’ll thrive. And then Wei and I will go back to our home station and collect everyone. Not just our parents. Cousins, nieces, nephews. Everyone we can.” “Sounds lovely,” Yadav conceded. “But where will this ‘new prosperity’ spring from? Your resources don’t seem adequate for trade off worl —” A sharp series of consecutive pops rang out. Puffs of dust burst from the ground at Yadav’s feet, and she instinctively jumped back. She was all too familiar with gunfire. to be continued … Links ----- No links available. Images ------ 1 image/jpeg [ ![](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/media/x3l6h1jdbgno8r/source/DatelineSesenFI3.jpg) ](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/media/x3l6h1jdbgno8r/source/DatelineSesenFI3.jpg) DatelineSesenFI3.jpg [Details](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/images/1292) Last Modified 12 years ago Size 1.52 MB [Source](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/media/x3l6h1jdbgno8r/source/DatelineSesenFI3.jpg) [Info](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/images/1292) Metadata -------- CIG ID 13634 Channel Undefined Category Undefined Series Dateline: Sesen Comments 69 Published 12 years ago (2014-03-14T00:00:00+00:00) [RSI Article](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/comm-link/serialized-fiction/13634-DATELINE-SESEN-Part-Seven) [API](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/api/comm-links/13634)