The bottle was half empty the plate of food untouched. Mike was staring into the glass like it held the secrets of the universe. It didn’t.
The pub was one of his regular haunts, on Cat. The staff knew him and knew that he tipped well so they let him be and made sure nobody bothered him while he was in thought. Those who knew him would know where he could be found and those who didn’t would be calling his comm which was currently turned off.
“When?” He asked the bottle. ‘When did winning become something to be avoided?”
The bottle avoided a knee-jerk response and let Mike continue.
“I mean . . . well . . . if a group does something that makes them win in every situation then that should be something to be lauded and admired, not cursed and reviled, right?” He shook his head. “But that isn’t what happens. Manage to win by having more pilots than the other side and you are a blob. Win an election by having a better organized voting base and they try to change the rules to make it harder to do. Win in Null by allying and doing deals with enough other organizers that you may fly safely through more than half of known space and they mock you for the big blue doughnut. Each case is a win and each is found to be wrong . . . by those not winning. Why?”
“Partially sour grapes but there is more to it than that.”
Mike blinked at the bottle then slowly realized it had not answered and turned his head to see Bleys standing beside him. “More”
“No, I think you have had enough.” Bleys smiled.
“No, well yes, but no, what more is there to it than that?”
“If all the pilots started to think that the game was in the bag, nothing left to do except obey orders of one of two or three organizations, what would happen?”
“Oh, that ‘more’.” Mike nodded and then shook his head. ‘Wait, what?”
“Some would join, just to be on the winning side, but most of those sheep have already enlisted in the flockers of their choice. Some would continue on trying to find little sorners of independence. The last would retire and live out other fantasies on planets far far from here.” Bleys eyed the bottle and shuddered. “You make missions of isk and you buy that?”
“I like it. Now you figure a lot of pilots might just stop flying? Wow, what would the ones who stayed do?”
“Exactly. Nobody to lord it over, no victims to terrorize. Space would become peaceful. The funny thing is, not a lot of people really like peace. It isn’t good for business. Some people just want to see the world burn. That’s really the biggest thing I have against Goons is that they would destroy their own sport in the name of sport. That to me is stupidity in its purest form.”
Mike poured some more from the bottle and eyed the dregs skeptically. “Burn. Destroy. Yeah.”
Bleys looked at Mike and asked. “You gonna make it back to your quarters?”
“Eventually, one way or the other. But I need to follow up on something Chendow told me. Some group called the Bombers Bar.” Mike nodded. “Thanks Bleys, that bottle was getting on my nerves, never gave me a straight answer.”
Mike stopped at the bar and covered his bill and the wages of the staff forthe week before heading off to the hangers. Bleys watched him leave and shook his head. “Happy hunting, go get the flockers.”
If you can find one in here, use it. It just has been bugging me for w while as to our motications to want to see what is an obvious win of Eve disrupted. Bleys straightened me out in saying that winning Eve might bring on the end of Eve.
Oddly, while I was writing this Rixx published THIS. Do our ideas mesh?
I have not given a ship away in a while. It is time. Actually past time so the prize is a pair of Bombers, winners choice of race.
And yes, I did go and fly with the Bombers Bar, more on that in the next post, I hope.
fly it like they cannot see you