Friendship

Suuolo ...

What sort of world do I occupy, that I should be so grateful to be flying with you once again?

Twice you've betrayed me: first for Nemesor, then for Ethan Verone and the Guristas.

The first wasn't so bad-- an impossible situation, really, a classic love triangle. We both loved him, I know. And I'm not surprised ... that you didn't tell me about you and him. The blame there falls on him, who chose between us only in the end and without ever telling me I was competing with you or with anyone.

But the second, leaving me alone to face the Cartel, knowing what I faced, what I hoped to accomplish, knowing that you and I had been a conspiracy from the beginning, and that between the two of us, you were the loyal one?

You must have known that an investigation would follow your departure, that the Dominations would want to know what had led to your defection, and how much of a security crisis they had on their hands. You must have guessed what they would find. Or were you too blind with love, yet again, to see the inevitable consequences of your actions?

They found me out, of course. If they suspected before, now they know for certain. They've never said anything of it, never showed their hand so blantantly; they haven't needed to, because my own investigation revealed what they had learned-- that, and the Dark Angels watching over my clones.

Twice it's been now ... so what is it that I am setting myself up for, now that I have no choice but to serve the Cartel body and soul? If the pattern of escalation continues, the next act should involve turning me over to IzzyChan, all anaesthetized and prepped for surgery.

But it's not as though you've ever acted out of malice. Your every treachery has been from a single motive, and I suppose I should never be surprised when love proves stronger than friendship. And you could have done far worse to me, had you chosen to do so.

What is there that we will not do for love.... Is there a choice you've made that I would not have made in your place?

If I have any real reason to hate you, it's for being so much more fortunate than I. The fool's dream I came here to chase, visions of Jovian artifacts dancing in my head, is gone. The laboratories are closed to me and mine. I've not been able to confirm the existence of even a single artifact. Not one! Despite the hundreds, the thousands, that must exist.

The Exodus Project is all but dead, along with the hopes I had for it. The Sleepers' arrival has changed so much: changed, perhaps forever, the relative place of the capsuleer in this society, perhaps even eliminating the problem I hoped the Project would resolve. It's brought fullerene technologies, a flood of artifacts-- and the Sleepers field self-sustaining, unmanned ships, suuolo!

The necessities of Exodus, all wrapped in a single boggling windfall of opportunity, death, and chaos.

Everything I hoped for, every gift I was hunting for in the Cartel, is right there on the other side of a wormhole, and I am trapped in a web that it turns out I never needed to enter. I had no way of knowing, of course, no way of predicting.

So, I suppose, do the gods keep themselves amused.

You lie, safe and warm, in the arms of a man who adores you. I lie my head off to PRETA about the endless meetings I have to attend-- meetings held not with the Dominations, but with my pathetic little circle of agents, learning in ever more intimate detail how thoroughly the Cartel has hemmed us in.

You enjoy gifts only a multibillionaire pirate prince can grant. The Cartel's iron collar snaps into place around my neck.

You are made a queen; I, a slave.

But ... I have missed talking, and flying, with you.

You've always been a friend. A good friend.

... for which reason, I write these thoughts in a journal no one will read while I still live, excepting perhaps my Dominations masters; I no longer care what they know. Some messages are better left unsent.

It's so very good to be back in your company, suuolo.

Yours,

Aria