DATELINE: SESEN: Part Eleven - [Comm-Links](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links) - DATELINE: SESEN: Part Eleven DATELINE: SESEN: Part Eleven ============================ Undefined Undefined Dateline: Sesen [Previous](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/13794) [Next](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/13796) Content ------- English Treason, or Mutiny? What Happens when a Family Feud Involves Political Infighting and Pirate Posturing? The large guard dropped Yadav and rushed Martinez. More shots went off as they wrestled with the gun. It took three of the five guards, but in moments they had Martinez on the ground. Yadav slid to her knees in front of Jones. Working quickly, she pulled out the sanitary wipes and thrust them against the wound. “Bad?” Jones groaned. Her face blanched, and she shivered as though caught in a blast of arctic wind. Yadav didn’t answer her question. Sato and another guard joined them and tried to take Jones away. “We need to get her to the Hill,” Sato said. “The med bay.” “No, stop,” Yadav implored them, grabbing Sato’s sleeve. “I’ve seen your facilities. She’s got no chance there.” She dropped her voice. “Look, there’s a ship coming for me. It’s a rescue transport; they’ll have the right emergency equipment aboard. If we can fly her up to meet them, she might make it.” They both scanned the hangar. Nothing but Drake pirate ships — except for Jones’ ride. Together, Yadav and the guards carried the bleeding governor to her Constellation. Jones tried to protest. “Skins are malfunctioning,” she said, her voice airy and distant. “It’ll have to do, Madam Governor,” said Yadav. The inside of the ship was sleek, but dated. Definitely not designed for medical transport. They had to buckle Jones in upright, with the restraints pressing on her injury. Sato jumped into the pilot’s seat, and Yadav opened up the comm channels to the incoming transport. “This is Ulla Yadav of New United,” she said. “I am approaching in a government ship. Validation codes are being sent to you now.” She muted the broadcast. “We do have valid identification codes, don’t we?” “Wouldn’t be very good pirates if we didn’t,” Sato said. “Ulla, Ulla,” Jones said, waving her arm limply in Yadav’s direction. “What?” Jones tossed her head slowly from side to side. “Here. We took this off your partner,” she said, trying to pull something out of her jacket pocket. The other guard retrieved it and passed it to Yadav. It was a paper image. A moment passed while she puzzled out what it was and where it had come from. Two young girls, a woman, and Haddix stood together, smiling, in the offices of New United’s headquarters. Several desks made up the background, and Yadav sat at one, MobiGlas in hand, mouth open mid-word. The picture’s edges were frayed and soft, and various folds and bends ran through the middle. This was what she’d seen Haddix kiss in the field, what she’d called his ‘security blanket.’ An image of his family visiting him at work. Yadav clasped the photo her chest. The ship rattled as they accelerated through the hangar tunnel. Jones let out a groan or yelp with every new bump. “Is this thing going to get us out of the atmosphere, or are we going to fly apart first?” Yadav asked. “Sorry we’re not as up-to-date as your company,” Sato snarked. “Ulla.” Jones struggled to speak as they rose into the sky. “I want to finish our interview.” “I don’t think now is the best time,” Yadav said. “I might not get to, later.” “We’ll get you on my company’s ship and you’ll be fine.” “No, you have to know. Not that we’re pirates, but why we’re pirates.” Why. Yadav had spent her whole life trying to stamp out that word. Why equaled excuses. “You don’t need to —” “Wei was right, we are involved in a war. An economic war. Other nations have their people spend mandatory time in the military. We have our own service requirements. Everyone at some point is a pirate.” They broke through the bright atmosphere and into star-speckled space. Jones kept talking. “We want to be self-sustaining. But in order to get there we need resources. We have nothing to trade. We can only take.” “Incoming craft, we have you on visual,” came the reply, finally, from the New United craft. “You are not a government ship. We believe your ID codes are forged. Stand down. Do not approach, or we will be forced to defend ourselves.” “The skins,” Jones coughed. “I told you.” “I am Ulla Yadav of New United,” she repeated. “Sending my press and personal ID codes to you now.” “How do I know those aren’t stolen, too?” “You followed a signal here from an ingested beacon, did you not? Where’s the signal coming from?” Jackass. “Section 32B of the Advocacy’s hijacking prevention guidelines states that if a ship’s validation codes are thought to be forgeries, then we should refuse boarding to —” Why did she have to get the greenhorn team? Sounded like this kid had never been in the field before. “I don’t care what the damn guidelines say. We have an injured woman on board who is likely to bleed to death unless you let her board your ship. Can you authenticate my IDs and the beacon’s signal, or not?” “You may be a hostage. Do not approach,” he repeated. Sato shot her a questioning look. She gestured for him to press on. The rescue transport revved its cannons. They shone aqua-blue against the starry backdrop. “Do not approach.” “Damn it, are you here to rescue me or not? This is code blue. I am not under duress. Open your damn docking doors so we can come aboard. Did you not hear me say I’ve got a dying woman here?” “It doesn’t matter, Ma’am. Even without suspicion of kidnapping and piracy, we only have clearance to transport the persons we came for. One James Haddix and one Ulla Yadav. No other persons are authorized to board this vessel.” “When you’re in the field, life gets messy,” Yadav said. “You’ve got to break the rules. Either you can damn your clearance and the handbook, take the governor of this planet aboard and save her life — or you can let a woman die just because her name isn’t on your list. No matter which you choose, understand this: I am Ulla Yadav, so you know I’m going to write about it, no matter what you decide. Would you prefer to be the coward who was so afraid for his own skin that he let a defenseless woman bleed out? Or would you rather be the hero who rescued the stranded reporter and saved an important politician?” She turned to Jones. “Does your ship have an internal feed?” The governor gestured toward a switch that Sato flipped. “Take a good look,” she said. “Think this woman can survive much more of this back and forth bureaucratic bullshit?” A long silence followed. Then, “Stand by for docking.” As the guards prepared to move Jones, the governor reached out for Yadav’s hand. It had been less than two days since they’d met. Now they were in similar circumstances, but on opposite sides of the equation. “Will you help us? Still write about us? The drill you saw — it’s for reaching the deep water table. If we can get enough fresh water for irrigation, we can farm more efficiently. Better crops means more animals. We can develop trade, for real. Then we can —” “Stop trying to convince me,” Yadav ordered. “I’ll go back and cover your colony. Write about the people. Get to, uh, get to know them, if that’s what you want.” “Please.” “As long as no one will try to kill me.” “I’ll make sure of that,” said Sato. The rescue team met them with medical equipment at the ready. One guard boarded with Jones. Yadav took out the crumpled photograph and kissed it, just as she’d seen Haddix do. Perhaps this was the best way to pay tribute to him. She hadn’t gotten to know him, but she could get to know these people. She could uncover more than the facts. They had reasons for doing what they were doing. Bad reasons? Good reasons? That wasn’t her call. But their whys definitely weren’t excuses. No one had helped them when criminals had ruined their lives, but people wanted to take them down now that they’d turned criminal themselves. But this wasn’t a news story about greed or power. No one in the universe would take a shot to the gut for either of those things. Sesen’s story was purely about survival. Jones was willing to sacrifice her life so that her colony might find allies through Yadav’s work. Now she envisioned a new headline: Stranded and Abused, but Not Broken. One Colony Strives to Succeed against All Odds, Battling Political Subterfuge, Starvation and Self-Doubt. After all these years, Humanity still found ways to surprise even the most cynical reporter. The End About the Author: Marina J. Lostetter’s short fiction has appeared in venues such as InterGalactic Medicine Show, Galaxy’s Edge, and Writers of the Future. Originally from Oregon, Marina now lives in Arkansas with her husband, Alex. She tweets as @MarinaLostetter. Please visit her homepage at http://www.lostetter.net/. Verrat oder Meuterei? Was passiert, wenn eine Familienfehde politische Machtkämpfe und Piratenhaltung beinhaltet? Die große Wache ließ Yadav fallen und stürzte Martinez. Weitere Schüsse gingen los, als sie mit der Waffe kämpften. Es brauchte drei der fünf Wachen, aber in wenigen Augenblicken hatten sie Martinez am Boden. Yadav rutschte vor Jones auf die Knie. Schnell arbeitete sie, zog die Hygienetücher heraus und stieß sie gegen die Wunde. " Schlecht?" stöhnte Jones. Ihr Gesicht blanchierte, und sie zitterte, als wäre sie in einem arktischen Windstoß gefangen. Yadav hat ihre Frage nicht beantwortet. Sato und eine andere Wache schlossen sich ihnen an und versuchten, Jones wegzubringen. "Wir müssen sie auf den Hügel bringen", sagte Sato. " Die Med-Bay." "Nein, stop", flehte Yadav sie an und packte Satos Ärmel. "Ich habe deine Einrichtungen gesehen. Sie hat dort keine Chance." Sie ließ ihre Stimme fallen. "Schau, da kommt ein Schiff, das mich holen will. Es ist ein Rettungstransport; sie haben die richtige Notfallausrüstung an Bord. Wenn wir sie hochfliegen können, um sie zu treffen, könnte sie es schaffen." Sie scannten beide den Hangar. Nichts als Drake-Piratenschiffe - außer Jones' Fahrt. Gemeinsam trugen Yadav und die Wachen den blutenden Gouverneur zu ihrem Sternbild. Jones versuchte zu protestieren. "Die Haut funktioniert nicht richtig", sagte sie, ihre Stimme luftig und distanziert. "Es muss reichen, Frau Gouverneurin", sagte Yadav. Das Innere des Schiffes war schlank, aber veraltet. Definitiv nicht für den medizinischen Transport konzipiert. Sie mussten Jones aufrecht schnallen, wobei die Fesseln auf ihre Verletzung drückten. Sato sprang auf den Pilotenplatz, und Yadav öffnete die Kommunikationskanäle zum ankommenden Transport. "Das ist Ulla Yadav von New United", sagte sie. "Ich nähere mich in einem Regierungsschiff. Die Validierungscodes werden Ihnen jetzt zugesandt." Sie hat die Sendung stumm geschaltet. "Wir haben gültige Identifikationscodes, nicht wahr?" "Wären keine sehr guten Piraten, wenn wir es nicht täten", sagte Sato. "Ulla, Ulla", sagte Jones und schwang mit ihrem Arm schlaff in Yadavs Richtung. " Was?" Jones warf ihren Kopf langsam von einer Seite zur anderen. "Hier. Wir haben das deinem Partner abgenommen", sagte sie und versuchte, etwas aus ihrer Jackentasche zu ziehen. Die andere Wache holte es ab und gab es an Yadav weiter. Es war ein Papierbild. Ein Moment verging, als sie herausfand, was es war und woher es gekommen war. Zwei junge Mädchen, eine Frau und Haddix standen lächelnd in den Büros des Hauptsitzes von New United zusammen. Mehrere Schreibtische bildeten den Hintergrund, und Yadav saß auf einem, MobiGlas in der Hand, Mund offen Mittelwort. Die Kanten des Bildes waren ausgefranst und weich, und verschiedene Falten und Biegungen liefen durch die Mitte. Das war es, was sie gesehen hatte, wie Haddix sich auf dem Feld küsste, was sie seine "Rettungsdecke" genannt hatte. Ein Bild von seiner Familie, die ihn bei der Arbeit besucht. Yadav umschloss das Foto an ihrer Brust. Das Schiff rasselte, als sie durch den Hangartunnel beschleunigten. Jones lässt bei jeder neuen Beule ein Stöhnen oder Schreien los. "Wird uns dieses Ding aus der Atmosphäre herausholen, oder werden wir zuerst auseinander fliegen?" fragte Yadav. "Tut mir leid, dass wir nicht so aktuell sind wie Ihr Unternehmen", murmelte Sato. " Ulla." Jones kämpfte darum, zu sprechen, als sie in den Himmel stiegen. "Ich möchte unser Interview beenden." "Ich glaube nicht, dass jetzt die beste Zeit ist", sagte Yadav. "Ich komme vielleicht später nicht dazu." "Wir bringen dich auf das Schiff meiner Firma und es wird dir gut gehen." "Nein, du musst es wissen. Nicht, dass wir Piraten sind, aber warum wir Piraten sind." Warum. Yadav hatte ihr ganzes Leben damit verbracht, dieses Wort auszulöschen. Warum gleiche Ausreden. "Du musst nicht -" "Wei hatte Recht, wir sind in einen Krieg verwickelt. Ein Wirtschaftskrieg. Andere Nationen haben ihre Leute, die obligatorische Zeit im Militär verbringen. Wir haben unsere eigenen Serviceanforderungen. Irgendwann sind alle Piraten." Sie durchbrachen die helle Atmosphäre und den sternförmigen Raum. Jones sprach weiter. "Wir wollen uns selbst erhalten. Aber um dorthin zu gelangen, brauchen wir Ressourcen. Wir haben nichts zu tauschen. Wir können nur nehmen." "Ankommendes Schiff, wir haben Sie auf Sicht", kam die Antwort schließlich vom New United Schiff. "Ihr seid kein Regierungsschiff. Wir glauben, dass Ihre ID-Codes gefälscht sind. Bleibt zurück. Nähern Sie sich nicht, sonst werden wir gezwungen sein, uns zu verteidigen." "Die Felle", hustete Jones. "Ich habe es dir gesagt." "Ich bin Ulla Yadav von New United", wiederholte sie. "Ich schicke dir jetzt meine Presse- und persönlichen Ausweiscodes." "Woher weiß ich, dass die nicht auch gestohlen wurden?" "Du bist einem Signal von einem verschluckten Leuchtfeuer gefolgt, nicht wahr? Woher kommt das Signal?" Blödmann. "Abschnitt 32B der Richtlinien der Advocacy zur Verhinderung von Entführungen besagt, dass, wenn die Validierungscodes eines Schiffes als Fälschungen angesehen werden, wir uns weigern sollten, an Bord zu gehen -" Warum musste sie das Greenhorn-Team holen? Es klang, als wäre dieses Kind noch nie zuvor auf dem Feld gewesen. "Es ist mir egal, was die verdammten Richtlinien sagen. Wir haben eine verletzte Frau an Bord, die wahrscheinlich verbluten wird, wenn Sie sie nicht an Bord Ihres Schiffes lassen. Können Sie meine IDs und das Signal des Bakens authentifizieren oder nicht?" "Du bist vielleicht eine Geisel. Nähern Sie sich nicht", wiederholte er. Sato schoss ihr einen fragenden Blick zu. Sie deutete darauf hin, dass er weitermachen sollte. Der Rettungstransport drehte seine Kanonen. Sie strahlten aqua-blau vor der sternenklaren Kulisse. "Nicht nähern." "Verdammt, bist du hier, um mich zu retten oder nicht? Hier ist Code Blau. Ich bin nicht unter Druck. Öffne deine verdammten Andocktüren, damit wir an Bord kommen können. Hast du mich nicht sagen hören, dass ich hier eine sterbende Frau habe?" "Es spielt keine Rolle, Ma'am. Auch ohne Verdacht auf Entführung und Piraterie haben wir nur die Erlaubnis, die Personen zu transportieren, für die wir gekommen sind. Ein James Haddix und eine Ulla Yadav. Keine anderen Personen sind berechtigt, an Bord dieses Schiffes zu gehen." "Wenn man auf dem Feld ist, wird das Leben chaotisch", sagte Yadav. "Du musst die Regeln brechen. Entweder du kannst deine Freigabe und das Handbuch verdammen, den Gouverneur dieses Planeten an Bord nehmen und ihr Leben retten - oder du kannst eine Frau sterben lassen, nur weil ihr Name nicht auf deiner Liste steht. Egal für welche du dich entscheidest, verstehe das: Ich bin Ulla Yadav, also weißt du, dass ich darüber schreiben werde, egal was du entscheidest. Würdest du lieber der Feigling sein, der so viel Angst um seine eigene Haut hatte, dass er eine wehrlose Frau ausbluten ließ? Oder wärst du lieber der Held, der den gestrandeten Reporter rettete und einen wichtigen Politiker rettete?" Sie wandte sich an Jones. "Hat Ihr Schiff eine interne Zuführung?" Der Gouverneur deutete auf einen Schalter zu, den Sato umlegte. "Schau genau hin", sagte sie. "Denkst du, diese Frau kann noch viel mehr von diesem bürokratischen Mist hin und her überleben?" Es folgte eine lange Stille. Dann: "Bereithalten zum Andocken." Als die Wachen bereit waren, Jones zu bewegen, griff der Gouverneur nach Yadavs Hand. Es waren weniger als zwei Tage vergangen, seit sie sich getroffen hatten. Jetzt waren sie unter ähnlichen Umständen, aber auf entgegengesetzten Seiten der Gleichung. "Wirst du uns helfen? Schreibst du immer noch über uns? Der Bohrer, den du gesehen hast - er ist für das Erreichen des tiefen Grundwasserspiegels. Wenn wir genügend Frischwasser für die Bewässerung bekommen, können wir effizienter wirtschaften. Bessere Ernten bedeuten mehr Tiere. Wir können den Handel entwickeln, wirklich. Dann können wir -" "Hör auf, mich zu überzeugen", befahl Yadav. "Ich gehe zurück und decke deine Kolonie ab. Schreib über die Menschen. Lerne sie kennen, wenn es das ist, was du willst." " Bitte." "Solange niemand versucht, mich zu töten." "Dafür werde ich sorgen", sagte Sato. Das Rettungsteam traf sie mit medizinischer Ausrüstung in Bereitschaft. Eine Wache ging mit Jones an Bord. Yadav nahm das zerknitterte Foto heraus und küsste es, genau wie sie Haddix gesehen hatte. Vielleicht war dies der beste Weg, um ihm Tribut zu zollen. Sie hatte ihn nicht kennengelernt, aber sie konnte diese Leute kennenlernen. Sie konnte mehr als nur die Fakten aufdecken. Sie hatten Gründe, das zu tun, was sie taten. Schlechte Gründe? Gute Gründe? Das war nicht ihre Entscheidung. Aber ihre Gründe waren definitiv keine Ausreden. Niemand hatte ihnen geholfen, als Kriminelle ihr Leben ruiniert hatten, aber die Leute wollten sie niedermachen, jetzt, wo sie selbst zum Verbrecher geworden waren. Aber das war keine Nachrichtenstory über Gier oder Macht. Niemand im Universum würde für keines dieser beiden Dinge einen Schuss in den Bauch wagen. Sesen's Geschichte handelte nur vom Überleben. Jones war bereit, ihr Leben zu opfern, damit ihre Kolonie durch Yadavs Werk Verbündete finden konnte. Nun stellte sie sich eine neue Schlagzeile vor: Gestrandet und missbraucht, aber nicht gebrochen. Eine Kolonie strebt danach, gegen alle Chancen erfolgreich zu sein und kämpft gegen politische Ausflüchte, Hunger und Selbstzweifel. Nach all den Jahren fand die Menschheit immer noch Wege, um selbst den zynischsten Reporter zu überraschen. Das Ende Über den Autor: Marina J. Lostetters Kurzspielfilm erschien an Orten wie der InterGalactic Medicine Show, Galaxy's Edge und Writers of the Future. Ursprünglich aus Oregon stammend, lebt Marina heute mit ihrem Mann Alex in Arkansas. Sie twittert als @MarinaLostetter. Bitte besuchen Sie ihre Homepage unter http://www.lostetter.net/. Treason, or Mutiny? What Happens when a Family Feud Involves Political Infighting and Pirate Posturing? The large guard dropped Yadav and rushed Martinez. More shots went off as they wrestled with the gun. It took three of the five guards, but in moments they had Martinez on the ground. Yadav slid to her knees in front of Jones. Working quickly, she pulled out the sanitary wipes and thrust them against the wound. “Bad?” Jones groaned. Her face blanched, and she shivered as though caught in a blast of arctic wind. Yadav didn’t answer her question. Sato and another guard joined them and tried to take Jones away. “We need to get her to the Hill,” Sato said. “The med bay.” “No, stop,” Yadav implored them, grabbing Sato’s sleeve. “I’ve seen your facilities. She’s got no chance there.” She dropped her voice. “Look, there’s a ship coming for me. It’s a rescue transport; they’ll have the right emergency equipment aboard. If we can fly her up to meet them, she might make it.” They both scanned the hangar. Nothing but Drake pirate ships — except for Jones’ ride. Together, Yadav and the guards carried the bleeding governor to her Constellation. Jones tried to protest. “Skins are malfunctioning,” she said, her voice airy and distant. “It’ll have to do, Madam Governor,” said Yadav. The inside of the ship was sleek, but dated. Definitely not designed for medical transport. They had to buckle Jones in upright, with the restraints pressing on her injury. Sato jumped into the pilot’s seat, and Yadav opened up the comm channels to the incoming transport. “This is Ulla Yadav of New United,” she said. “I am approaching in a government ship. Validation codes are being sent to you now.” She muted the broadcast. “We do have valid identification codes, don’t we?” “Wouldn’t be very good pirates if we didn’t,” Sato said. “Ulla, Ulla,” Jones said, waving her arm limply in Yadav’s direction. “What?” Jones tossed her head slowly from side to side. “Here. We took this off your partner,” she said, trying to pull something out of her jacket pocket. The other guard retrieved it and passed it to Yadav. It was a paper image. A moment passed while she puzzled out what it was and where it had come from. Two young girls, a woman, and Haddix stood together, smiling, in the offices of New United’s headquarters. Several desks made up the background, and Yadav sat at one, MobiGlas in hand, mouth open mid-word. The picture’s edges were frayed and soft, and various folds and bends ran through the middle. This was what she’d seen Haddix kiss in the field, what she’d called his ‘security blanket.’ An image of his family visiting him at work. Yadav clasped the photo her chest. The ship rattled as they accelerated through the hangar tunnel. Jones let out a groan or yelp with every new bump. “Is this thing going to get us out of the atmosphere, or are we going to fly apart first?” Yadav asked. “Sorry we’re not as up-to-date as your company,” Sato snarked. “Ulla.” Jones struggled to speak as they rose into the sky. “I want to finish our interview.” “I don’t think now is the best time,” Yadav said. “I might not get to, later.” “We’ll get you on my company’s ship and you’ll be fine.” “No, you have to know. Not that we’re pirates, but why we’re pirates.” Why. Yadav had spent her whole life trying to stamp out that word. Why equaled excuses. “You don’t need to —” “Wei was right, we are involved in a war. An economic war. Other nations have their people spend mandatory time in the military. We have our own service requirements. Everyone at some point is a pirate.” They broke through the bright atmosphere and into star-speckled space. Jones kept talking. “We want to be self-sustaining. But in order to get there we need resources. We have nothing to trade. We can only take.” “Incoming craft, we have you on visual,” came the reply, finally, from the New United craft. “You are not a government ship. We believe your ID codes are forged. Stand down. Do not approach, or we will be forced to defend ourselves.” “The skins,” Jones coughed. “I told you.” “I am Ulla Yadav of New United,” she repeated. “Sending my press and personal ID codes to you now.” “How do I know those aren’t stolen, too?” “You followed a signal here from an ingested beacon, did you not? Where’s the signal coming from?” Jackass. “Section 32B of the Advocacy’s hijacking prevention guidelines states that if a ship’s validation codes are thought to be forgeries, then we should refuse boarding to —” Why did she have to get the greenhorn team? Sounded like this kid had never been in the field before. “I don’t care what the damn guidelines say. We have an injured woman on board who is likely to bleed to death unless you let her board your ship. Can you authenticate my IDs and the beacon’s signal, or not?” “You may be a hostage. Do not approach,” he repeated. Sato shot her a questioning look. She gestured for him to press on. The rescue transport revved its cannons. They shone aqua-blue against the starry backdrop. “Do not approach.” “Damn it, are you here to rescue me or not? This is code blue. I am not under duress. Open your damn docking doors so we can come aboard. Did you not hear me say I’ve got a dying woman here?” “It doesn’t matter, Ma’am. Even without suspicion of kidnapping and piracy, we only have clearance to transport the persons we came for. One James Haddix and one Ulla Yadav. No other persons are authorized to board this vessel.” “When you’re in the field, life gets messy,” Yadav said. “You’ve got to break the rules. Either you can damn your clearance and the handbook, take the governor of this planet aboard and save her life — or you can let a woman die just because her name isn’t on your list. No matter which you choose, understand this: I am Ulla Yadav, so you know I’m going to write about it, no matter what you decide. Would you prefer to be the coward who was so afraid for his own skin that he let a defenseless woman bleed out? Or would you rather be the hero who rescued the stranded reporter and saved an important politician?” She turned to Jones. “Does your ship have an internal feed?” The governor gestured toward a switch that Sato flipped. “Take a good look,” she said. “Think this woman can survive much more of this back and forth bureaucratic bullshit?” A long silence followed. Then, “Stand by for docking.” As the guards prepared to move Jones, the governor reached out for Yadav’s hand. It had been less than two days since they’d met. Now they were in similar circumstances, but on opposite sides of the equation. “Will you help us? Still write about us? The drill you saw — it’s for reaching the deep water table. If we can get enough fresh water for irrigation, we can farm more efficiently. Better crops means more animals. We can develop trade, for real. Then we can —” “Stop trying to convince me,” Yadav ordered. “I’ll go back and cover your colony. Write about the people. Get to, uh, get to know them, if that’s what you want.” “Please.” “As long as no one will try to kill me.” “I’ll make sure of that,” said Sato. The rescue team met them with medical equipment at the ready. One guard boarded with Jones. Yadav took out the crumpled photograph and kissed it, just as she’d seen Haddix do. Perhaps this was the best way to pay tribute to him. She hadn’t gotten to know him, but she could get to know these people. She could uncover more than the facts. They had reasons for doing what they were doing. Bad reasons? Good reasons? That wasn’t her call. But their whys definitely weren’t excuses. No one had helped them when criminals had ruined their lives, but people wanted to take them down now that they’d turned criminal themselves. But this wasn’t a news story about greed or power. No one in the universe would take a shot to the gut for either of those things. Sesen’s story was purely about survival. Jones was willing to sacrifice her life so that her colony might find allies through Yadav’s work. Now she envisioned a new headline: Stranded and Abused, but Not Broken. One Colony Strives to Succeed against All Odds, Battling Political Subterfuge, Starvation and Self-Doubt. After all these years, Humanity still found ways to surprise even the most cynical reporter. The End About the Author: Marina J. Lostetter’s short fiction has appeared in venues such as InterGalactic Medicine Show, Galaxy’s Edge, and Writers of the Future. Originally from Oregon, Marina now lives in Arkansas with her husband, Alex. She tweets as @MarinaLostetter. Please visit her homepage at http://www.lostetter.net/. 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 13795 Channel Undefined Category Undefined Series Dateline: Sesen Comments 75 Published 12 years ago (2014-04-11T00:00:00+00:00) [RSI Article](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/comm-link/serialized-fiction/13795-DATELINE-SESEN-Part-Eleven) [API](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/api/comm-links/13795)