Silas

Every reconstruction requires a certain type of figure. The dreamer. The one who sets events in motion not through wisdom or strength, but through sheer, relentless wanting.

Silas was that figure.

I will admit—my initial assessment was uncharitable. The engrams paint him as a man who stretched truth like taffy, who sold contracts the way a market vendor sells questionable meat. Always angling. Never slowing down. Always winning somehow.

Two thousand years later, I find myself reconsidering.

The Captain

Silas commanded a Caleedan crew from Drift's Edge in the pre-Breakage era—the Peregrine, a ship he did not own but had been assigned. His authority derived from clan politics rather than demonstrated merit, a fact his crew recognised with varying degrees of tolerance.

He led Vetch Harrow (pilot), Risa "Doc" Kline (medic), and young Pax (sensors). A small crew for dangerous work.

When asked if Silas had ever lied to them, Harrow's response was succinct: "Plenty'a times."

The Dream

What drove a man to the Edge? For Silas, the answer was simple: the Helix.

He spoke of it like a promised land. Warmth. Cards. Easy booze. Contracts that matter. Recognition from those who matter more. Every job was "the big one." Every success brought them closer to being noticed.

"This is the big one, Pax! We do this, next mission will be from the Helix, I guarantee it!"

Reading these words across the gulf of millennia, I confess I find them... touching. Perhaps naively so.

What He Was

Was Silas a charlatan? A true believer? A skilled manipulator who had convinced himself of his own stories?

The engrams do not resolve this question, and I am not certain it needs resolving.

When his crew expressed doubt about a dangerous contract, Silas negotiated increased pay on their behalf. When faced with competition, his first instinct was to push harder, not retreat. His stories may have stretched truth, but his commitment to his crew's advancement appears genuine.

Perhaps the distinction between dreamer and deceiver mattered less than what the dream accomplished.

His Words

"Our boots will be the first to hit those decks in centuries. Mark my words."

Whether those words proved prophetic, the fragmentary engrams do not tell me. The subsequent records are damaged beyond reconstruction—a gap of silence where history should be.

The Temple may question why I include figures like Silas in these records. He was not a Seer. He was not a Composer. He held no historical significance that orthodoxy would recognise.

But history is not made only by those who are remembered.

Sometimes it is made by those who simply refused to stop reaching.

~ NV