Play of Powers
22 Dec 2024Rawnu
Sol system feels strange now, more fragile than it ever has before. I’m back at Mars High, after spending some time back in my old commune on Earth. The scent of mountain air and coming winter, the banter and songs of my people, old Marika and her tales, the sound of my father’s Sitar in my hands, and the memories of my mother’s wisdom–all remain fresh and vivid in my mind. Below me, Mars shimmers with its engineered blue skies and sprawling green plains, a testament to humanity’s determination—or arrogance—to reshape what was once barren and red.The Thargoids have retreated, for now. Cocijo fell, and humanity’s united efforts drove back the invasion from Sol. It was a victory—at least, that’s what the headlines say. But as the dust settles, the cracks beneath the surface are widening. The Empire and the Federation are squabbling over systems like vultures circling a battlefield, each claiming the moral high ground while maneuvering to consolidate their power. They’re not even waiting for the bodies to cool.
Let’s start with the Federation. Jerome Archer’s pilots call for us to defend Sol and Alpha Centauri, the heart of Federal space. They talk of fairness, of protecting the vulnerable from Imperial opportunism, but it’s hard not to hear the echoes of their surveillance drones humming through their appeals. Archer’s Federation isn’t about fairness; it’s about control. The same control that keeps its citizens monitored, its systems squeezed dry for profit, and its people reduced to cost-benefit ratios.
Then there’s the Empire. Aisling Duval’s supporters paint a picture of stability and order, swooping in to “liberate” the vulnerable systems left unoccupied by the Federation’s losses. They frame themselves as responsible stewards, as if their expansion is a noble act rather than a calculated power grab. Stability is their word for domination, and their claims to righteousness feel hollow when backed by a system that still chains its own people under the guise of “social contracts.” Yet… there’s a part of me that understands the appeal of Aisling’s rhetoric. She speaks of reform, of progress within the Empire’s framework. For those who live under her banner, perhaps her promises mean something real. But I’ve seen too many systems—from the Federation to the Empire—offer promises only to bind people with gilded chains. Whether it’s corporate greed or aristocratic patronage, it all smells the same.
And that’s the heart of it, isn’t it? This isn’t about Sol, or Alpha Centauri, or any of the vulnerable systems caught in the crossfire. It’s about power. Two giants scrambling to tighten their grip on humanity, even as the galaxy trembles under forces far greater than either of them. The Thargoids haven’t gone away; their songs still linger in the void, a hum beneath the surface that refuses to fade. And yet, here we are, fighting over scraps while the storm looms on the horizon. If the Thargoids truly wanted to destroy humanity, they should’ve just waited until we got the job done ourselves.
I haven’t yet made up my mind what I will do. For now I’m helping people in need, not powers. The refugees stranded in Sol’s stations, the miners trying to rebuild in Alpha Centauri, the children growing up under domes of glass and steel—they don’t care about Archer or Duval. They care about survival. About food, shelter, safety. If the superpowers won’t prioritize them, maybe it’s time we did.
But I know that avoiding the power play is not a sustainable stance. You cannot be neutral. Being neutral most of the time means siding with the oppressor, even if you don’t want that. Being opportunistic, as most independent Commanders, is also an option–but not for me. I can either go back to the black, maybe even contemplate resettling to Colonia to get away from it all. Or to put my credits where my mouth is, and choose a side in this forming storm. But which side could this be? And how long will it take until this power play corrupts me?