Refugees
13 Sep 2020Tharrn
Robardin Rock, Carcosa system"Why are there so many families on the landing pads still?" The war had ended that day, a decisive victory for the Nameless and Zahariel couldn't figure out what the problem was.
"Well..." the travel contact started with a sigh and shrugging helplessly. "It is those dratted Pilot's Federation rules we have to stick to."
This still made no sense. Carcosa was classified as an Anarchy. Of course it wasn't chaos or murdering psychopaths doing whatever they pleased, but it meant there was no central government. It was complicated with several councils, committees, elders, leaders, sects and even some gangs vying for power in a somewhat working stalemate. How could the Pilot's Federation enforce rules here?
The travel contact noticed his puzzled expression. "Override codes built into vital station parts we can't make ourselves. Don't ask. We are on it, but they are sophisticated. Anyways... the past few days AAA commanders have been accepting contracts to evacuate refugees just to drop them again immediately. It's happened so often that we couldn't keep up but we couldn't refuse them taking those missions. The poor sods are stranded here until we can sort this mess out."
Another foul trick in a long list of quibbles and treacheries. Humans really meant nothing to the power mongers and their willfull myrmidons. They were just numbers in a spreadsheet to them.
Zahariel was outraged. "Send them all over to the Behemoth. No fancy ride, just the cargo bay but I should be able take them all with a bit of squeezing. No missions, no trouble for you. Sod the Pilot's Federation."
"Whatever you say" the travel contact stated with audible relief. One worry less.
It would be a short trip to Tir. Just two jumps and they could stay on the Zerzura until two would be finished. Of course that meant scrounging supplies for the Zerzura. Yet another item on an ever growing to do list.