Chapter 8

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"Revenge is a story with only bad endings." ~ Kelso Kiernan, "Hour 23"

 "Seen from above, the entire galaxy, a hundred-million suns, looks like water circling a vast sewage drain. So, yes, its a bit like our politics.."
 ~ Late Night with Ambra Nurzhinski

 "For over twelve thousand years, mankind has roamed these vast dark caverns between the stars, huddling like our forbears around the flickering fire of this star or that, hoping that nothing restless stirred in the darkness
beyond." ~ Paris Hillman, "Auld Acquaintance"

 Christmastime was the only real settlement on Buran IV worthy of mention to most Human Coalition Government types; it had semi-working bathrooms, at any rate, and food, munitions, hardware, software and entertainment.
 I suppose I found the place too crowded to be comfortable in, having spent the better part of the last 5 years trudging through the frozen, airless tundra of the far north in almost complete and glorious isolation. Still, even I needed
the occasional break from my routine of hunting down and eliminating the Enemy. My suit could only absorb so many rads, the gel that kept me warm
would begin to decay (and smell like overcooked eggs) and the software that linked me to my gun would gradually become more and more error-prone, due to magnetics from the planet, radiation, viruses from Enemy programs, the works.
 Its not as if the Enemy were stupid, just not nearly so vicious as Humanity; they might kill, but it would be out of neglect, rather than murderous intention, most of the time. Perhaps that is why, though Humanity was outnumbered more that 30,000 to one, we were winning against both the Coalition of Sentients and the Federation of Intelligent Races. Cruelty. Avarice. Hate.
 I marched more than 20 miles south into the low valleys around the great volcano Christmastime was built into. Mount Erebus, a 24, 500 foot colossus
with a caldera the size of the Earth territory of Wyoming, arched up and above me, spewing a never-ending haze of hydro-carbons and thick blankets of carbon-monoxide. If the planet were not in a fairly thick nebula, it would be a greenhouse. As it was, it was a freezer. 
 But it was my freezer.
I picked up the local radio station on my walk into the upper valley; Christmastime (named for the day it was settled, naturally) was now hosting 
a new group of troops. For once, the annoying host seemed rather quiet when talking about them. 
 "Not really Androids. Not really robots, or even clones. Genetically modified
animals, really, with Human characteristics stamped onto their DNA, but no more related to us than a Chihuahua. But they look human; thing is, they are born with..lets call it 'enhancements'. Stuff I have never even heard of, folks.."
 The radio went dead for a bit, as I passed the overhanging jut of rock called 
'Lovers Leap'; by the time it came back on, it was an old Troy Robinson song
"Dream Sweetly, Baby".
 So, soulless critters who look Human sent to hunt this icy perdition for our Enemy?
 I smiled, despite myself.
Finally; people I could relate to.



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