Returning to the core worlds after an extended voyage, I stopped in at a pleasant little indie planet to refuel. The fuel-pump attendants were very polite and professional and I thanked them and tipped them as a gentleman should.
Upon departing, a local enforcement patrol signalled a desire to inspect my compliance with regulations. Being a gentleman, I graciously assisted them. When the officers saw my cargo hold full of meth and kidneys they had a bit of a fit. I tried to explain to them, first, that I was fully complying with their laws and regulations and the meth and kidneys was destined for a market that did not share their peculiar moral preferences, second, that I had been very careful not to allow any of it off my ship while in their quaint little dominions, third, that every bit of the meth and kidneys was absolutely my property by right of salvage, not theirs, especially since the kidneys had been cryofrozen on a decivilized world since the collapse and the former owners were in no position to express any opinions on the matter, fourth, that they the inspection officers were not under any circumstances going to confiscate anything, especially as the proceeds from this property had been earmarked by myself for paying some rather notable bills which would certainly help encourage local industry and commerce in their stellar neighborhood, and finally, that if they persisted in any foolishness my salvaged superdreadnought's reality disruption weaponry should be measured against their two dinky little frigates before anybody did anything hasty.
My entirely reasonable arguments unfortunately fell on deaf ears.
Two rather small expanding clouds of debris later, I proceeded on my way to my next intermediate stop prior to the final destination for my meth and kidneys. This was another quite nice indie planet where the subject of a minor delivery awaited. Upon arrival there, however, I found that word of the previous incident had preceded me. As I had been, quite lawfully and rightly, travelling with my transponder activated as specified in chapter 252.11 section 3 subsection 14 of the Interstellar Navigator's Standard Regulation, I had been positively identified during the preceding minor altercation, and this second indie world had inexplicably decided to align its entire foreign policy in every detail upon whatever decisions would be made by any other indie world - in short, defining its government as policy as the exact diametrical opposite of "independence" - and most particularly those events involving my first stop with the overly zealous enforcement officers.
To be precise: although I had never committed a single infraction of any sort in this world's jurisdiction, and in the previous incident had been guilty merely of protecting myself and my property from highway robbery under color of law, and in any case that incident - being in an entirely different solar system and sovereignty - did not and should not concern this world's authorities in the least - nevertheless, I had been declared an Enemy Of The People, to be shot on sight. And any docking privileges were to be refused.
Retaining my patience with, it must be admitted, a certain degree of difficulty, I requested permission to at least drop off my charge - as it happens, the child of one of the chief planetary administrators, whom I had agreed to convey to this location as a favor to a friend. You will scarcely believe what happened. Docking privileges were once more refused. How regrettable an age this is, when a parent will refuse to see their own child simply because of a minor quibble with the captain of the vessel upon which the poor child travels! Feeling great sympathy for the poor child, and being of a naturally generous and expansive character, I attempted docking incognito, as it were. Unfortunately this planet, too, had overzealous enforcement officers, who insisted that, primus, I was not to dock with my transponder on, secundus, I was not to dock with my transponder off, and tertius, PEW PEW PEW.
Somewhat exasperated, I and my superdreadnought dispensed with these arguments, giving them the attention and concern they deserved. The planet's night sky quickly became calm and peaceful once more, speckled with the occasional bit of drifting wreckage - I'm sure it must have sparkled beautifully when seen from the ground. This, unfortunately, I could not verify, as when I attempted to dock incognito once more so as to discharge my duties and allow the poor child to rejoin its ungrateful parent, it became clear that not only would I be denied docking privileges regardless of transponder status and presence or absence of overzealous enforcement officers, but that this state of affairs could be expected to persist for "many months".
It is very important to note at this juncture: I had given my word. I had given my word to deliver this child safe and unharmed to parental authority by a particular date, a date which was at this point merely a few days in the future. I am an honorable gentleman; it is a particular point of pride that I have always kept my word and always achieved what I have said I would do, whether the commitment be to the noblest fleet commander in the Hegemony or the most contemptible guttersnipe of Eochu Bres. When I have said I will do something, I do it. And I had done! - here I was, with the child, at destination, in visual sight distance - and the very parent to whom I had sworn to deliver their beloved child, a powerful and influential member of the planetary government, was refusing to permit me to do so! A parent, refusing to accept their own child!
I persisted, I argued. I pleaded. A few days passed. The deadline arrived.
And passed.
I had broken my word.
I'm afraid at this point I rather lost my temper.
In a towering rage, I broadcast to the planet that their execrable stupidity would no longer be permitted to commit such offenses against my honor and good name. I removed the silly little patrols that had arrived in the interval, and I saturation bombed the planet.
These insufferable fools would never again be permitted to make a mockery of my sworn word.
Proceeding onward to a much more liberal and enlightened port of call, I disposed of my meth and kidneys in a satisfactory manner, as well as putting the child off with a suitable gratuity - sufficient to buy a frigate and thus to determine one's own way in life. Quite satisfied with this outcome and having recovered my equanimity, I then made my way to a major center of civilization, eager to taste the fruits of high culture with my newfound wealth. How shocked, how dismayed, how perturbed can you imagine I was, then, to discover - upon arrival at this teeming metropolis, my home port for many years, inhabited by several of the finest and most infuential personalities in the starlanes, each of whom I had the pleasure of calling "friend" - that I was to be denied docking clearance! And not only that: in shock and horror, I discovered that I - I! - who had done so much, worked so hard, flown so many light-years for the rich and powerful of this world - was to be attacked on sight by the local defense fleets!
It is a satisfaction - a bitter one, but a satisfaction nonetheless - that my superdreadnought's reality disruption weaponry proved as effective against battleships as it earlier had against frigates.
But, as the vapor clouds slowly dissipated, I was confronted with an intolerable fact. The same - same! - arguments were presented by this planet's government in turn, to the effect that in light of my horrendous crimes - crimes which, I remind you, consisted merely of protecting my own property, refraining from violating local trade statutes, attempting to keep my given word, and above all, flying with my transponder activated as per the Interstellar Navigator's Standard Regulation - all previous services and favors I had performed were forgotten, all previous debts the rich and powerful individuals of this world had incurred in my regard were to be ignored, all friendships now inconvenient, and I was to be consdered merely criminal scum.
I! Criminal scum!
I remember well how my eyes narrowed and my keen gaze flashed at the seriousness of the situation. This precedent, if allowed to stand, could well be disastrous. I took immediate action.
I saturation bombed the planet.
Remorse took me like a hyperspace storm. Was this truly justice? Was this truly befitting a gentleman? I needed spiritual advice, so I flew directly to the nearest Church world, seeking guidance of the soul. They denied me docking privileges and would not hear my plea. I saturation bombed the planet. Frantic and distraught, I needed to sit and think. I needed calm reflection and good wine. I needed supplies and simple mercantile truths. I went to a League world, where I was denied docking privileges, so I saturation bombed the planet. Exiting into hyperspace, a passing Hegemony fleet diverted course to attack me without warning. I systematically disintegrated every single one of their craft, returned to their home base, scattered the ashes of their dead into the atmosphere, and then saturation bombed the planet.
The matter could no longer be left to chance and happenstance. The question of right and wrong must be made clear, and all must proclaim their allegiance. I proceeded to the closest planet in the very next system over and, upon discovering their attitudes to be inadmissible, I saturation bombed the planet. Proceeding to a more liberal if slightly disreputable port of call, I found them quite bemused and uncomprehending as to what was going on and quite willing to do business in the usual way, so after purchasing a suitable amount of fuel I left them in good order and newfound wealth while I proceeded to the next three civilized worlds and saturation bombed each planet. From there on I don't recall the details. There may have been some minor encounters with fleet commanders, patrol inspectors, star fortresses, and whatnot; I'm afraid it all became a bit of a blur in the targeting reticles of my superdreadnought as I moved on, world to world, summoning each one to declare its allegiance to Truth, Justice, and the Starfaring Way, and saturation bombing those who ululated their piffling little irrelevancies while refusing me docking privileges.
In retrospect, I suppose the truly surprising thing is that not one of these planetary administrations ever took note of the pattern of events and considered that perhaps their wrong-headed principles should be set aside in the interest of self-preservation and averting the saturation bombing of their planet.
Regardless, this is why civilization in the Persean Sector consists exclusively of the Sindrian Diktat, the Tri-Tachyon corporation, and the assorted bands of freelancers and independent operators colloquially known as "pirates". Gentlemen adventurers all, we understand that one can't build a space empire without saturation bombing a few planetary eggs, and we never respond unprofessionally to the necessities of business.
