Someone's Personal Diary

[Redacted]

Date: 31-05-828 A.S. (or 744 A.G.S.)
Title: The shadows

I’ve been here for two days now, and the mechanics have clearly been working hard as my ship is almost fully repaired. They told me it will be ready this afternoon. The locals here clearly don’t like outsiders, it’s almost impossible to pry any information out of anyone. However, I did figure out that the owners of Monaco Base operate somewhat within the law, although they have extensive operations in the underworld as well. I comm’d the contact person on that advertisement, and this person returned my comm shortly after. I was directed to fly to this remote island on Planet Marseille. With my newly repaired ship, I did as I was told.

I reached the coordinates given, which was a plain launchpad, but was greeted by no one. Night had fallen on this side of the planet by now, and it was DARK. Very little artificial lighting was present on the island, and I wondered for a minute if this was the real end of my life.

I was relieved when a person stepped from the shadows. He said that my ship was scanned “just in case” and asked for my purpose here. I told him that I was seeking a new life, and gave a brief account of my journey to this planet.

This person, who never provided his name, indicated that if I am seeking a new life, then I have ended up in the right place. "However, we seldom recruit outsiders - you will be monitored very closely." he said. "If you try anything... poof you'll disappear". He also demanded that all evidence of my previous life, including my ship and physical possessions, were not to follow into my new life. It meant assuming a new identity and fighting for a new purpose – the influence, power and credits will easily follow. He wouldn't even provide the name of the organization - it was that secretive. "Trust has to be earned" he said.

I agreed to join this person and start my life afresh. He welcomed me to the “family”, and I followed him into the shadows. I left all my possessions behind on the launchpad, except for a photograph in my back pocket; my only reminder of my previous life – oh how I wished to see them once more.