| abstract
| - What do you do when people try to walk on you? Don't answer, I already know what you're going to say: You put them in a bodybag. I mean you're mercs, after all. You do awful things for a living, you pack around enough ordnance to equip a revolutionary army, you snort stone and sneeze TNT; you're ANIMALS and that's all good. But do you ever think to yourself, 'what would life be like if you couldn't just grease and gack everyone that stomps your toes? What would it be like if there was a bigger kid on the block?' Now realize that the reality of that question is what so many folks in this 'verse of ours have to deal with every day, especially in the Frontier. For every colony of miners and farmers, every port of shipbuilders and traders, every reserve of war refugees and independents, there's an army of scum lurking about, just out of sight, but never out of mind. You have to give a hand to these folks to do what they do with the constant threat of douchebags falling out of orbit and wrecking up shop. Still, bravery isn't worth much when you crumble like deadwood when trouble comes knocking and death comes 'ripping. Alone, all it amounts to is words of admiration on a plasma-scorched, bullet-pocked headstone, to speak in human terms. And who's going to stand up for these folks? There's no law but for the pretenders out in the big black of the Frontier and our much beloved United League of Planets frankly doesn't give a your-favored-euphemism-for-excrement-here about anyone that isn't a citizen within their borders. It's the crooks and the asshole corps that have free reign out here and that's the way it's always going to be, unless we start taking a stand for those who can't. Now don't start walking away just yet, because you're getting a bit far ahead of me if you think I'm asking you to be a hero; that's the last thing I'm asking you to do, because you know as well as I do that folks that set out to be heroes end up in early permanent retirement, but not before getting a whole lot of bystanders maimed. No, I'm asking you to find your conscience. I know, for some of you, it's hard, but just listen for a second. We've all done jobs for the independent wealthy, tin-pot colony dictators (or the folks fighting against them) and folks that want to remain nameless. We do this because they both pay well and have good connections to ensure we're always knee-deep in capers. None of us ever thought to take the offers from the farming communes under hostile-takeover by crooked corps or the mining rocks under constant attack from pirates and plunderers. And why not? Maybe you don't think they'll pay you enough. Maybe you're an even bigger jerk and think that doing a good deed for folks in need will put you at odds with the usual underhanded skulks you do business. Whatever, you may have reasons, but I guaran-damn-tee you they aren't worth much to me or anyone else who still has a sense of ethics. Think of it this way: You start doing the work of the little guy, the ordinary folk that make up the substance of the 'verse it self and all of the sudden, you're not some morally-ambiguous creep that lurks in shadows and only shows up when mayhem cuts loose; you're doing work you can be proud of. You're cutting down scum with all guns blazing, you're breaking the backs of crooks and their cadres, you're doing the right thing, which is something so many of us can't honestly say. Kinda makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, don't it?
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