Lucendez snapped awake when he heard Laowai say "dictator." The fire in the hearth was warm and soothing. Lucendez couldn't seem to stay awake much longer, and his water had run out. Getting out of the plush arm chair, the Elder paced around to the back and leaned against it.
"I believe what we are all missing here, is the scale of the problem." Lucendez cleared his throat, as all Elders bore their eyes into his.
"Generations ago, our forefathers landed on this planet to escape a possible death in the blackness of space. Their hearts were not cold, like their brethren aboard the legendary Hispania. The colonists would die a fiery death if they were to be condemned to it, not a cold death, or worse..."
Lucendez paused, unsure of what everyone's reaction was going to be.
"Since then, our nation has underwent changes, many rudimentary in nature. When space travel became possible, Crete let her children roam out into the stars and pillaged what we needed to advance. Well everyone, we advanced. The Corsair civilization no longer sends out our mighty Titans and Centurions, but we also service cruisers, battleships, and recently our very own Legate-class Dreadnaught. I don't want to constrain an individual's right to pirate where he wants and defend Crete with the hot-blood that is his birthright."
"When an individual, without coordination from others, takes his hulking warship into the fray, he risks other's freedoms simply because he doesn't want to be constrained. The fact is, we can supply dozens of Centuries worth of fighter craft easily, but a single dreadnaught is much more clumsy and precious than a single fighter. If that individual wants to pirate, defend Crete, or play poker, whatever, in a Titan, that is his own business. But, that same individual getting rich off the artifact trade and buying his own Battleship must adhere to the will of the people he serves. Even more so because of his dependence on supply from Crete."
Lucendez finished his long-winded speech and sat back down.
"The Elders aren't here to rule over the people with an iron fist, SCRA is handling that nicely with the few Corsairs still serving in their fleet. We instead simply wish to come to a decision about a problem that threatens the whole of the Corsair civilization, and perhaps move into the next stage of our evolution as a nation."
"The thirteen saloons that had lined the one street of Seney had not left a trace. The foundations of the Mansion House hotel stuck up above the ground. The stone was chipped and split by the fire. It was all that was left of the town of Seney. Even the surface had been burned off the ground.
Nick looked at the burned-over stretch of hillside, where he had expected to find the scattered houses of the town and then walked down the railroad track to the bridge over the river. The river was there."
