[MadJackal]

This is from a story I've been working on. I want a way to connect Jumpgate Classic and Jumpgate Evolution, and I figured it would be a good idea to remark on why so many pilots and squads in Jumpgate Evolution are going to have the same names as before. I tried for a sardonic/dry wit and tried to keep the wordiness in check.

LINEAGE

To say that our time is one of change is an understatement. Never since the original Solrain Reconstruction Initiative have the hopes and destinies of entire worlds been guided by so few. As the massive stations high in orbit become new monuments in our night skies and as production of new ship models mold and reignite the economies across several continents, a similar change is occurring in our clans. The best and brightest train for the future while their elders bestow upon them jewels from the past: the call sign of their lineage progenitor. Squad names, call signs, and ancient corporation copyrights from our collective past are all reforming in grotesque facsimiles of their half forgotten originals.

There have been many justifications made for the amount of energy spent on reviving our past. The merits of these justifications vary depending on who you poll, but it is generally agreed that every proposal presented so far is part of an elaborate lie.

To those clans influenced by our former warring neighbors the Octavians, this is a dutiful return to emphasis on class and succession (an important study for former members of ruling dynasties regardless if they spent more time in exile than on the throne). Detractors say that genetic cultivation and modification over the years have made such inherited relations to the past thin at best and nonexistent in reality.

Lineage minded geneticists in favor of class distinction based on birthright (despite the decrease in inherited traits) invoke the ancient Octavian parable of ?The Old Man and His Ship?:

?On the day beginning the 8th cycle of a young Octavian warrior?s life, he was rewarded with a Phoenix class warship of immense power in celebration of his first slaying of an enemy newborn. The warrior flew the ship with uncharacteristic concern, keeping it in the peak of maintenance as well he could. After every battle, he would change the laser barrels and conductors out for fresh ones. Whenever his armor was breached in the slightest, he would replace the entire outer shell of the craft. The interior was gutted and redone every time an updated system, chair, or festive skull ensemble was released. The Octavian warrior flew this ship for the entirety of his life, striking a bond with his winged beauty which outshone every relationship now or since displayed between a man and his ship.

Near the end of his life, he remarked to the craft he held dear: ?Ship, I have grown old and tire from killing my enemy?s fleets and nurseries. Yet you have stayed fresh and new as the day I first flew you. It troubles me now to ask, if not one bolt holding you together, if not one switch or plate has remained since I first encompassed myself within your protection, can I truly think of you as my old partner??

It is at this time that the story teller assures the listener that the ship in the story is a reference to our genetic identity in relation to our ancestor?s, and that the old man is a framing device to ponder the reality of an ongoing dissociation between the physical relation to our past and the socio-emotional connection to our past.

The Octavian people long ago agreed to scuttle any and all attempts at subtlety in their endeavors.

The moral of this parable is that while the matter which ebbs and flows through our corporeal being may change us on the material plane, there will always be those with rights to a ship which can efficiently slaughter others.

To those clans spiritually influenced by our scavenging, rock drilling, occasionally hallucinating brothers the Quantar, our fixation with ancient call signs is a form of holy ancestor worship. Many spiritual centers subscribe to this practice of venerating the dead, which many deem acceptable when considering the sheer audacity and bravery shown by the generations that have preceded us. The naming of our children after the great pilots who kept the spark of civilization alive in our darkest times can be seen as a humble attempt to thank the few who have secured the future for so many.
I should note that not all ancestor worshiping clans of the Path are in favor of this particular method, as many believe our ancestors form the basis of new deep space debris to be picked apart by drill bit. As such, we should not practice our worship through designating our children in their name, as the rocks may feel offended by such hubris.

This cultural mass exodus to the past has been illuminated with such beauty and nuance that a societal amnesia has silently been agreed upon.
The great merchant people of Solrain, in our glorious splendor agree to forget that we are guilty of cashing in on the exploits of our clan histories. Every citizen, every business, every commercial entity even remotely linked to the past has searched its attics for something to hock on along the skyways. Clans name their best and brightest after ancestors not to renew bonds or educate pilots, but rather as a ploy to gain a foothold in the coming galactic enterprise. Our newest pilots will be those with the right connections, the right marketability, and, if there are a few ships left to send them to orbit, the right skill.

This is my first attempt at fiction, so if any experienced writers have any tips or comments, please go right ahead and post something.