OOC: Now for something a little different. Don't worry if this doesn't make any sense at the moment. It will all come together at the proper time.
IC:
George Weng the third was not like most men. The descendant of George Weng Senior, the inventor of the technologies that had made interplanetary travel cheap and quick, Weng was easily one of the most influential men in the entire system.
He was tall and thin, with closely cut black hair, a wide jaw and a permanent squint. His fingers were long and thin and when he spoke, his voice was soft. Polite and measured.
Perhaps most importantly, with his father ailing and sick, Weng was heir to Weng Industries and, rumor had it, the next System President when the election process got underway.
Despite his sucess, Weng was a humble, self effacing man who was loved by Weng Industries employees. As the company's chief of R&D, Weng spent most of his time in the Outer System working alongside the miners and pilots who risked their live harvesting minerals metals from the moons of the Jovian worlds. He took no special treatment, eating the same food, taking the same risks as they and traveled through space in the same suits and ships. He even did mining using his own creation, the SpaceWalker Operation and Remote Drone System (S.W.O.R.D.S.).
Weng didn't command respect, he earned it and it was easy to forget that he was the boss.
Today though, anyone watching the news would not have believed Weng to be anything but the boss. Wearing a suit, his hair brushed and quivering with restrained anger, Weng glared into the news cameras crowding the cafeteria of Weng Industries Ganymede Base.
"For too long the Syndicate has terrorized us," Weng said. "Here in the Outer System, I know firsthand the fear of a Syndicate attack. These animals have no respect for the hardworking men and women who risk their lives out here. The men and women I call friends . . . no, who I call family, who put their lives on the line for what? So Syndicate thugs can swoop in and steal their labor? I was on Europa six months ago when a Syndicate attack destroyed a pressure dome. Fourteen Hundred men, women, and children . . . dead. I saw it." He held up his hands, palms up and stared at them. "I had left that selfsame dome that morning. Before I boarded my ship, this little girl came up to me and gave me a flower from her mother's garden. She told me her name was Janie and she wanted to sing for me. I told her that I had to leave but promised I would listen when I returned the next week." Weng let his hands fall to the podium in silence. When he spoke again, it was with anger. "That day, the Syndicate raided the mineral storage bays. The dome blew. I went back immeditly, but there was nothing to do but clean up what was left."
He paused.
"With my own two hands, I carried Janie's corpse to the transport . . . I can still feel the weight of her body. Her . . . lifeless . . . body. Now, the Syndicate has raided Narcissus Bay on Mars. Three thousand people dead. Countless more will probably die within the next couple of days. For what? They stole a chemical analyzer and a computer." He gave a mirthless laugh. "An chemical analyzer . . . and a computer . . ."
He shook his head.
"I spent last night asking myself why. Why would they do something so . . . horrible for so little. Today, I asked myself Why hasn't someone done something about it? Now, I will do something about it. To that end, I formally accept the nomination as the People's canidate for the upcoming System Presidental election. Once in office, my first act will be the creation of Janie's Law. In the name of that little girl, her friends, her family, and everyone else who's suffered because of the Syndicate, I swear to you that that pack of jackals will pay for their sins even if I have to take up a gun and do it myself. I am already wealthy, I cannot be bought. I have lived and worked in the harsh enviroment of space, I cannot be frightened or made to suffer. Nothing they can do will sway me, nothing they can do will stop me. Nothing they can do . . . will save them from their fate . . ."
IC:
George Weng the third was not like most men. The descendant of George Weng Senior, the inventor of the technologies that had made interplanetary travel cheap and quick, Weng was easily one of the most influential men in the entire system.
He was tall and thin, with closely cut black hair, a wide jaw and a permanent squint. His fingers were long and thin and when he spoke, his voice was soft. Polite and measured.
Perhaps most importantly, with his father ailing and sick, Weng was heir to Weng Industries and, rumor had it, the next System President when the election process got underway.
Despite his sucess, Weng was a humble, self effacing man who was loved by Weng Industries employees. As the company's chief of R&D, Weng spent most of his time in the Outer System working alongside the miners and pilots who risked their live harvesting minerals metals from the moons of the Jovian worlds. He took no special treatment, eating the same food, taking the same risks as they and traveled through space in the same suits and ships. He even did mining using his own creation, the SpaceWalker Operation and Remote Drone System (S.W.O.R.D.S.).
Weng didn't command respect, he earned it and it was easy to forget that he was the boss.
Today though, anyone watching the news would not have believed Weng to be anything but the boss. Wearing a suit, his hair brushed and quivering with restrained anger, Weng glared into the news cameras crowding the cafeteria of Weng Industries Ganymede Base.
"For too long the Syndicate has terrorized us," Weng said. "Here in the Outer System, I know firsthand the fear of a Syndicate attack. These animals have no respect for the hardworking men and women who risk their lives out here. The men and women I call friends . . . no, who I call family, who put their lives on the line for what? So Syndicate thugs can swoop in and steal their labor? I was on Europa six months ago when a Syndicate attack destroyed a pressure dome. Fourteen Hundred men, women, and children . . . dead. I saw it." He held up his hands, palms up and stared at them. "I had left that selfsame dome that morning. Before I boarded my ship, this little girl came up to me and gave me a flower from her mother's garden. She told me her name was Janie and she wanted to sing for me. I told her that I had to leave but promised I would listen when I returned the next week." Weng let his hands fall to the podium in silence. When he spoke again, it was with anger. "That day, the Syndicate raided the mineral storage bays. The dome blew. I went back immeditly, but there was nothing to do but clean up what was left."
He paused.
"With my own two hands, I carried Janie's corpse to the transport . . . I can still feel the weight of her body. Her . . . lifeless . . . body. Now, the Syndicate has raided Narcissus Bay on Mars. Three thousand people dead. Countless more will probably die within the next couple of days. For what? They stole a chemical analyzer and a computer." He gave a mirthless laugh. "An chemical analyzer . . . and a computer . . ."
He shook his head.
"I spent last night asking myself why. Why would they do something so . . . horrible for so little. Today, I asked myself Why hasn't someone done something about it? Now, I will do something about it. To that end, I formally accept the nomination as the People's canidate for the upcoming System Presidental election. Once in office, my first act will be the creation of Janie's Law. In the name of that little girl, her friends, her family, and everyone else who's suffered because of the Syndicate, I swear to you that that pack of jackals will pay for their sins even if I have to take up a gun and do it myself. I am already wealthy, I cannot be bought. I have lived and worked in the harsh enviroment of space, I cannot be frightened or made to suffer. Nothing they can do will sway me, nothing they can do will stop me. Nothing they can do . . . will save them from their fate . . ."
