Notes to Home

[Kellen Jens]

Dear Mum:

I know it's been a while since you and Da have had word from me. Well, you won't be reading this note, either. Hells, I won't even be trying to send it. Remember how I told you a while back it was hard getting comms in and out, for this reason and that? Since then, life has got interesting, to be sure.

First off, I was in hospital. Nothing major, and I was never going to win any beauty awards anyhow, right? They say everyone loves a girl in uniform, no matter what, so the scars ought just add a bit more zing.

It was when I got out the fun started. Once, I couldn't tell you where I was because of security. Now? Couldn't tell if I could tell, as I've got no idea. I've been assigned to a sort of special projects thing, without my ever asking for it. A promotion of a sort, I suppose, but I'd rather have had that hospital berth. I'm not sure exactly what we're doing but I'm to be doing the same old thing, I suppose- patching leaky plumbing and sticking plasters over holes. Could be worse, I suppose.

Did Brynne ever get back in touch with you after all of it? I suppose not. She left mad, and did say she'd never be back. She's either rich as a lord now, or more likely shot up by some pirate. If she ever should reach out, remember her little sister to her. And give the silly bint a kick in arse for me!

Well, I need to get to work. So this bit'll go with the rest of the lot, to either be buried with me in time, or handed to you all at once should I ever make it back there. Are the brats still at home, or have they 'prenticed out? Or, Stars forbid, imitated their idiot sis and signed on to get shot at?

Hope you're well.
Love,
Kel

 

[Kellen Jens]

Hey, Da.

Well, I met my first Sith today. 'Met' as in actually up close and talking, not seen from across the field, or standing sweating in inspection as they glare and strut. A pleasant enough gentleman by the name of Tarr. Wasn't there an Ehren Tarr a few plots other side of The Landing? No relation, I suppose, but an interesting coincidence, no?

I also suppose, since I was treating the man in question for having tried clawing part of his own face off, that 'pleasant' mayn't be exactly the right way of describing him. Appears the rumors of Sith being half mad are at least a quarter true.

Nor does 'gentleman' apply, I guess, behavior being a bit different among them. So I'm told.

Still and all, if he was a bit odd, he wasn't a three-headed fire-breathing monster. And he bleeds like anyone else, for what it's worth.

In passing, he let drop a wee tidbit: it's said the last CO of my unit here was killed by one of our own. Meaning the Army. Needless to say, this was not the most welcome news. We mudboots keep hearing all about how there's a war on, but seems some officers are like to forget that, and prefer to play at Lords and Thrones, as we did when we were kids. Just bloodier. If you can't trust them in front of and above you, how in all Hells can you trust anyone behind you?

I can see your face as you wonder what sort of trouble your girl's got herself in now. And wish I could say. What was it you said when I told you I wanted to sign up? Something about the 'Steel backhandshake'? It stuck with me, and I think I know, now, what you meant, for all it was nonsense to me then. But it's still better than marrying some dull lad with a few hectares and fewer brains, and popping out a bairn every year until I wither up.

I'll not be saving this with the package of letters I still hope to give to you some day. Feels a bit unsafe, setting things like this to writing. In fact, after wishing you and mum lots of love, I think I'll just delete it.

K