Revenant

Submitted as a personal Eve Online fan fiction intended as an episodic series on April 13, 2015. I don't intend to ever finish this one, as integral parts of it were blended into another story later on, though I may actually do so if the inspiration strikes me.  

“Even after all of this, he can’t look me in the eyes.”

Chamilie Ettivala stared out across the luxurious, sterile office space through a green, hazy liquid and slate glass at the Gallentean admiral settled quietly in his seat. The sound, already an eerie silence, further muffled. Only the sound of her breathing filled the void. For a brief moment, the man lifted his gaze to her, only to immediately turn away and re-focus his attentions on the data-pad in his hand. The man swiveled in his chair to face the window, the decorative back of his seat facing her.

For the while her only solace, apart from the persistence of her own willpower, was the luxurious sight of the Decon Fronds spreading their petals to the morning light shining through the window in thick rays. Dust particles swayed through the beams, reflecting in soft, brief shimmers. The sight of the flowers blooming was a daily gift that reminded her of the delicate plant’s inherent beauty. More morbidly, it reminded her of vaguely of how long she had been in her prison.

The admiral stood and walked across the room. He waved his hand gently over a brightly lit pad on the wall. Soon after, the metal shutters of her glass box began to close, cutting off all sight to the outside world. In total darkness, she now could only hear the bubbles rising from the base of her rebreather that loudly pulsed in rhythmic pattern. 

Once again, she was left with only her thoughts and memories.

#

Region      Constellation System

Placid Amevync Esesier

YC 115 (Late Prevernal)

Recessed lights ignited along the bottom of the bedroom walls in straight, solitary beams that illuminated the tan and black metal panel surfaces. The dimly lit orange lights cast over the room in an eerie fashion. Coalescing with the lights was a unique soothing experience provided by pre-programmed glows beneath the floor panels in the form of preset patterns of orange waves. It was not unlike the nebulous dance of light shining through water at the base of a pool. 

An almost ear piercing chirp screamed from the bedside table of Chamilie Ettivala, who lazily extended her arm and slapped at the source until the noise ceased. The woman rolled upward with her thin blankets draped around a single shoulder, her messy raven hair disheveled. Her silver eyes groggily trailed over the room with a certain look of disdain.

The woman realized fully that she was awake to begin her usual work ritual and without wasting time began to lift her feet to action. Each soft, fleshy patter of her bare feet rang out in the room with a gentle echo. The same dim orange lighting rippled around each foot in aesthetic display. She gave a wave of her hand over a panel recessed into the wall that caused a holographic display to show, providing several options of food recipes. Though limited in scope she found one to her liking and selected it. In response, the projection greeted her with a flashing red and black striped overlay.

“What?” She muttered, tiredly as her eyes trailed over the projection with a newly found alertness. 

She searched with weary intent for the reason behind the error and quickly found a set of yellow characters that explained the predicament: “INSUFFICIENT FUNDS”. Ettivala lifted her hand and placed it to the side of her head with a groan, shaking her head. She began to cover her naked body with a tan jumpsuit, complete with a “LAI DAI” logo on the shoulder. 

As she approached the door leading out of her small apartment a scanner traced over her body with a series of lasers before making a three-tone sound. A computer generated phrase followed:

“Lai Dai thanks you for your service. Have a safe work experience!”

As if by sheer instinct, Ettivala rolled her eyes and continued out of the apartment and into the hall where other workers – similarly dressed in their uniforms – began to leave their assigned quarters and make their way toward an industrial lift. 

She stood among her co-workers, giving a double take toward a scruffy looking man at the back of the lift. The word ‘PONTROVOL’ written across his shoulder further emphasized her familiarity with him, which she used as a target of her elbow to gently nudge the man and gain his attention. 

The man turned toward her with a smirk crossing over his features, showing a set of pearly white teeth beneath the thick reddish-brown stubble of several days past shaving. The man’s long hair was tied back into a ponytail, neatly, and freshly washed. His green eyes almost shimmered as they glanced about aimlessly.

“Hey, Tricks, you have any issues getting breakfast this morning? Mine said that I’m broke.” Ettivala inquired softly, just loud enough to be heard over the lift’s gears cranking.

“Hmm, no – no problems on my end; got my usual. Insufficient funds, huh? That is a real kicker. Don’t you get paid more than the rest of us?” Pontrovol responded, his green eyes focusing on the shadows of each floor the open-faced lift had passed.

“Hardly, you remember a few months ago when they offered me that promotion? I turned it down. They gave me the promotion anyway – got all the responsibilities, just none of the pay. Apparently that went to some new hotshot working supervision.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much, Millie, we’re likely all going to be looking for another job soon anyway. I hear the warzone is moving a bit closer to Esesier these days and you know how Corporate likes to cut their losses and lay everyone off before that happens – especially those of us who were Federation citizens. It’s sort of like unpaid vacation when you really think about it!” 

“Sure. Cut us loose; still charge us for the room and board. Listen, I’m going to run to the bank and figure out what this is all about before I head up there. Try to stall the boss for me?”

“Will do.”

#

The Planet of Esesier VIII, locally known as Calcadia, was generally very cold for a temperate planet. Due to this, Livestock and subsequent agriculture wasn't as high as many other temperate worlds but the planet was well known for what it did provide. Main exports consisted primarily of explosives manufacture, garnished by the production of military grade weapons along with other designs primarily for infantry use. 

Each district contributed to one another through vast traffic lanes. Outside of industrial expansion, the planet had a ripe cultural significance for it's constellation and was well known for the production of arts blending Caldari and Gallentean themes. This had changed as the war was brought closer to the planet in the dead-end system. 

The Cepsa District was reputably the most industrious with a heavy degree of manufacture going toward Capsuleer and Empire interests alike. The Lai Dai Corporation still maintained a presence in some of the districts that were controlled by State Peacekeeper forces, having owned the development rights to the planet since the auction over occupied systems concluded. Even though the Federal Defense Union had thoroughly secured the space above, the Lai Dai Corporation would continue development until the very last opportunity to leave, as they always had.

The district was lightly populated as many had felt it necessary to leave with the constant state of flux between the two warring empires. The citizens who remained were either Federal citizens too stubborn to leave that had adapted or foreign workers from the Caldari State that had travelled in search of lucrative employment in the industrial sectors. 

Built in a circular fashion, the city was set inside a bowl-shaped valley between mountain ranges on all sides but the eastern edge where the ocean stretched as far as the eye could see. The center of the city were industrial refineries and manufacturing centers that were tightly condensed. High capacity residential buildings, such as the one where Ettivala and her companions had lived, bordered the outskirts of the city at the base of the mountains. Between the two different sectors were small businesses and grocers that provided needs and services, such as that of The Bank of Luminaire Vault’s planet-side establishment.

Ettivala briefly waited for the sliding glass door to open before entering the bank. Being directly connected the in-orbit station the system there was usually a slight delay in the transference of funds that was to be expected. Ettivala expected that this was the case and marched over toward the first employee she could sight. 

“Hey, listen, I don’t mean to barge in like-“ Ettivala began before being cut off by the employee.

“One moment please.”

“No, listen, I’m kind of i-“ 

“One moment – please.” 

“I’m late for work. Help me now and I’ll be out of your hair a lot faster, do you understand?” Ettivala finally mustered with a tinge of anger in her voice.

The bank resembled traditional Gallentean architecture with organic curves deliberate the building’s interior design. The air was fresh and cold, bearing a slight mint flavor that was otherwise unnoticeable if a person had not specifically been trying to find it. A corner of the main lobby was complete with a ‘Quafe’ vending machine though it seemed rarely used given its appearance.

Ettivala’s rushed demeanor clearly irritated the employee. The woman gave an exacerbating sigh and moved the holographic display to the side to address Ettivala directly.

“What can I do for you?” 

“I tried to get breakfast today and it said I had insufficient funds. I’d just like to know why and what I have to do to fix it.” Ettivala explained.

The employee shifted the holographic display in front of her once more and began to swipe her hand over it until she found Ettivala’s account. There was little hesitation in her response.

“You’re in the negative by about 389 Credits. Seems like a large sum of it went to the Lai Dai Corporation. You’ll need to pay off whatever it is you owe before your account is positive again, pending an overdraft fee of twenty-five credits and an additional five credits for every day that the fee is not paid.” The employee stated with a grumble, turning to look at Ettivala with a hardened stare.

“That’s impossible, I paid the rent already!” Ettivala responded emphatically.

“Ma’am, if you recall, you said that you would leave if I informed you why you had insufficient funds and what you had to do to solve it. If you would?” 

Ettivala shoved herself away from the counter with a shake of her head. She started toward the door when she began to feel a vibrating sensation on her wrist originating from the Lai Dai provided communicator. She briefly looked over the screen, aged and dusty from constant work in the fields, passed over several owners, and noticed that the message was from Pontrovol.

“Tried to stall him, Millie, but he’s in a particularly bad mood today… Look, uhh… You can stay at my place for a few nights but… Yeah. He said to leave the wristband in your quarters.” 

She could almost read his hesitation in the message itself but one thing was clear: she now found herself among the unemployed. For a moment she stood, silent. She tried to understand how the situation could have gotten so badly out of hand in what was still the morning. Sunlight peered over the crest of the mountains far past the edges of the Calcadia District. 

Ettivala ducked into a nearby alley upon leaving the building and slammed her back against the wall in defeat, sliding down its metal surface until she hit the ground. She buried her head into her hands and her shoulders began to heave, breaking down into a sob. She was well enough into the alley that no one would see her without specifically looking and this gave her a great degree of comfort to expel her emotions into one violent session. 

It was not until nightfall that she mustered the strength to return to the living quarters.

#

Ettivala arrived at Pontrovol's apartment just as the moonlight began to peer through the condensed alleyways of the outer city borders. She had weaned off the shakiness of her initial outburst even though her eyes were still puffy and red. Having dropped off everything that belonged to the Lai Dai Corporation she was clad in a black sleeveless shirt and pair of rugged pants lined with more pockets than seemed necessary; a fashion niche in the making. 

She gave a heavy sigh and waved her hand over the scanner embedded in the wall, looking up toward the top of the doorframe where the hidden camera system was installed. There was a brief pause before a soft three-tone sound rang out in unison with the door opening, a computerized voice speaking as Pontrovol was revealed. 

"Lai Dal thanks you for your se-se-service. Have a safe work experi-Have a safe work experience!" 

An awkward silence befell the two. Ettivala looked up at the source of the sound before looking back at the Ethnic Gallentean man with a raised, expectant brow. Pontrovol chuckled and rolled his shoulders in submission. 

"Technology to make a man immortal but we can't have a door greeting fixed and working proper the man stated with a humorous charm in his voice. 

I’m cold, Tricks. Let me in." 

The Gallentean let Ettivala into his apartment that was almost a mirror copy of her own prior to have to relinquish her lease on it. Apart from the few personal effects, there had been a single outstanding thing that had stood out about the room: A large drone situated uncomfortably in the corner between the wall and the foot of the bed. Ettivala recognized it immediately and gave a wave of her hand in acknowledgement. 

"BOOZER." She stated with a soft smile. 

The drone lifted with a flicker of lights across its carapace, almost as if it were a dog snapping to attention when hearing its name. The drone had a notable color scheme to it that was reminiscent of CreoDron manufacture with key differences in several panels that seemed to have minor differentiations in color and texture. Its overall structure was vaguely reminiscent of a Tristan class frigate with long mechanical tentacles extending from its rear that, for the moment, were coiled around its entirety in a waiting position. 

"He's had to be pretty quiet lately. Neighbors in the adjacent rooms are getting suspicious whenever I work on him." Pontrovol stated with a jut of his head in gesture to the drone's direction. 

"I can imagine. How've you managed to keep from being tracked down by CONCORD all this time anyway? I'm pretty sure CreoDron and CONCORD aren't too pleased with you for running off with experimental Al and modifying it to be -well somewhat sentient." Ettivala responded curiously.

In response to this, Pontrovol extended his hand behind the woman's ear and acted as though her were retrieving an item. The soft brush against her hair caused her to cringe and smile instinctively, trying to escape the ticklish sensation. The man rolled his hand in a flare of motion and presented it, palm up, with a small bluish-green flower that flickered gently before dissipating. A hologram. An age-old illusion that never seemed to die with the times. Ettivala felt a wash of flattery. 

"How do you think I got the moniker: Tricks?" Pontrovol "Tricks" asked, rhetorically. 

"Are you seriously explaining this away with space magic?" Ettivala inquired, scoffing. 

"What would the legend be without its mystery?" 

Ettivala stepped closer to the bed against the wall and sat against it, dragging her hand against the blankets gently. Her lips pulled with slight disgust as she felt small particulates of food, dirt, or any number of possibilities. She flicked her fingers to try to shake away the bits that stuck before looking up at him with a shake of her head.

“You definitely need a woman in your life, Tricks. That or someone to do some laundry once in a while.” She stated with a hint of humor in her voice.

“Oh, yeah? Well, you’re more than welcome to be that woman in my life.” 

“Uhhh – no, not happening.” Ettivala said with a smile, closing her legs against her clasped hands before looking away from the man.

“Whoa, what was that about? You find old Tricks that repulsive, eh?” 

“I’d ask how many diseases you were loaded down with but, what would the legend be without its mystery?” 

“Low blow, Millie, low blow.” Tricks said with a soft chuckle.

Tricks collapsed back into the bed with a heavy bounce that almost threw Ettivala onto the floor. He extended his arms upward and clasped his hands behind his head, staring at the orange wave-patterns that traced along the ceiling that glistened in his eyes. His lips pursed while his brows furrowed, deep in thought, before glancing at Ettivala.

“Something I didn’t really consider. You sleeping on the bed with me or on the floor with BOOZER over there?” 

“On the floor, over by the door in case I need to make a quick escape from a scruffy fugitive of the law who tries to make a move on me.” Ettivala said with a sharp jab at the man’s ribcage.

“Ahh! Well, fine by me, I’m not sacrificing my mattress though.” 

No sooner than Tricks made that statement did the loudspeaker flicker to life with a short chime of traditional Caldari patriotic music. A woman’s voice came on with an almost patronizing tone, like that of a customer service employee: insincere.

“Good evening, employees and contractors. As you all know, Federal Marines and State Peacekeepers have been combating one another in other districts for several months. As such, we have recently received information that the Federal Marines have gained extensive ground and are pushing Peacekeeper forces back to the Calcadia District. They are expected to be here within the next week.

Due to this, we would like to inform everyone that your safety is our greatest concern. On behalf of the Lai Dai Corporation, Esesier Division, this message is to notify all current employees and contractors that you are, until further notice, on unpaid leave.”

Tricks snapped upward like a mousetrap in response to the last few words, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes. The announcement ignited an uproar of yelling and screaming across the complex that could be heard through the walls. The volume of the loudspeaker continuing the announcement in the immediate room had been loud enough to drown out the protests. 

“Lai Dai wishes you luck in your endeavors but most of all we would like to express our deepest concerns toward your health and well-being. Despite this, all Lai Dai accounts are frozen until further notice in the eventuality of immediate necessity to protect corporate assets. 

All assets on loan to employees and contractors are to be left in your domiciles as the Lai Dai Corporation is retaining them until further notice. Please leave your wristbands on the bed and remove all personal effects from the premises. Thank you.” 

The sounds of dissent quickly began to spread to the halls as Ettivala and Tricks sat in silence. The drone began to stir in the corner and take itself closer to the door with its mechanical tentacles, lifting itself upward and placing a single synthetic limb against the door. After a brief moment, it twisted about and started over toward the bed where the two were with an erratic set of twitches. 

“It’s alright, BOOZER, just stay calm for a second, people are just scared.” Tricks explained, putting the drone at ease.

“So, it looks like everyone is in the same boat as I am now.” Ettivala stated, almost amused.

“Yeah, well, try not to say that to their faces. People need work and a lot of us were just scraping by as it were. We’re effectively unemployed and homeless now but I suppose that’s the downside with room and board being provided by your employer.” Tricks scoffed.

Ettivala lifted to a stand with a heavy sigh and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. She began to pace, idly, with her head low in thought. Tricks lifted as well but took a moment to remove his bracelet with a gentle rub against the red, imprinted skin from where the communicator had previously been. 

The man started over toward the recessed closet space and began to remove his things, tossing them atop of the drone, which seemed apathetic toward the menial task of carrying his belongings. As the two humans and single mechanical being gathered up belongings, they started toward the door. Ettivala glanced over her shoulder toward the man with a jut of her head in gesture.

“What are we going to do about BOOZER? You don’t think people will become a little anxious at the sight of a drone the size of a hound just roaming about?”

The drone, covered in clothes, began to retract its tentacles into its chassis, falling to the floor with a hard metallic thud. The lights began to flicker on its frame until dying out completely. Tricks extended a hand and grabbed ahold of an exposed handle on the back of the mechanical construct’s carapace, lifting it up like a tote bag with a grunt. His body noticeably leaned to one side with tensed muscles from the weight of the now dormant drone. Finally, Tricks covered the being with a large jacket, giving it rudimentary concealment. 

Ettivala raised a brow and slowly turned her head back to the door. With a wave of her only free hand over the recessed console, the door slid open and revealed the main corridor leading to the service lift. The hall had been packed to capacity with unemployed workers carrying their belongings any way they could. Some were more encumbered than others. Ettivala and Tricks, now carrying the majority of the man’s belongings, fell into line and boarded the service lift, observing the corridor of waiting individuals as they began their descent with the soft whir of grinding gears.

#

“What do you mean there are no jobs available? There has to be something.” Tricks inquired, his palm facing the ceiling with his brows lowered. 

“Sir, there really is nothing. All of the corporations are pulling assets and laying off workers because the warzone is moving closer to the city and the Capsuleers are relying mostly on automated workforces now. We simply have nothing available for new employees.” Replied the Taskforce Agent.

Ettivala kept to her seat in the lobby. She idly coiled a length of hair around her finger in repetition. As her eyes began to trail around the empty room, she dabbed her lips with her tongue to try to moisten them. She winced at the pain of her dry, split lower lip, swallowing a lump in her throat. 

“So how are we supposed to eat? Live?” Tricks continued in his protests

“Sir, there is nothing I can do, I can’t answer those questions and you know that.” 

“Then what are you doing here?! This is an unemployment office!” 

Ettivala began to shiver and reached into her satchel for her jacket. Covering herself with the ripped and torn garment, she glanced outside with a shake of her head at the sight of light snowfall that began to cast down over the street. The planet was naturally cold but the winter had run late into the year with a cold blast that stretched from the northern part of the continent. 

“Is there anything off world? On one of the stations, maybe?” 

“Unless you want to join the Federal Defense Union, no, there is nothing. The Bank of Luminaire Vault isn’t accepting new hires pending the recent surge in applications and even then, you can only work there with a positive balance – something many workers don’t have now. 

Ducia Foundry is looking for work but you’d be hard pressed to meet the qualifications for anything other than security and you’d need an extensive background and a willingness to work abroad.” The agent explained.

“What is considered ‘abroad’”? Tricks inquired.

“Lawless space. Which, at that rate, you might as well work on becoming a Capsuleer because you’ll probably fair a lot better.” The agent responded with a sardonic tone.

Tricks let his hands slide from the counter with a shake of his head and pivoted on his heel. As he headed for the door, Ettivala sprung up from the bench with her satchel in tow to follow him. The doors slid open and a gust of cold air hit them like a wall, both wincing from the frigid air that whipped their flesh. Tricks turned to Ettivala with narrowed eyes as he crossed his arms in an effort to stay warm.

“Millie, we’re going to die if we don’t find some kind of work...” 

“If we can’t find it, we’ll have to make it.” Ettivala responded.

“And just how do you plan to do that, dare I ask?” 

“Do what the corporations do; kill the competition.” 

Ettivala pointed to a poster fluttering in the cold air. A poster calling for an organized demonstration in the city center, right in the middle of the Industrial Sector. 

#

The protest was scant, much less than was expected from the general outcry that was seen in the reaction to the recent layoffs and about the Gallente - Caldari warzone as a whole. What was expected to be thousands only amounted to a few dozen, each with signs relating to how the war needed to end and Capsuleers needed to leave.

Among the group was Chamilie Ettivala, who bore her sign of protest as the most important thing in her life. The application of a handheld device the size of an apple amplified her voice not unlike a megaphone, as she exclaimed emphatically her demonstration. Pontrovol "Tricks" was nearby, taking a more passive role by handing out water bottles from a crate. 

“Our sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, die every day for a war that will never end! Empyreans extort their labor for expendable lives to service their ships! Life and liberty are a farce in the eyes of the Federation, who has lost sight individual freedom. Even the State, who is only interested in revenue! Who fights for we, those that would garnish either – that would accrue both!?” 

The proclamations echoed off the rusted walls of the market buildings, extending down the alleyways to homeless veterans – survivors, rather – that clung to life by the meager scraps left by charitable Samaritans. Many had visible scars, extensive burns, and other reminders of their time spent in the never-ending conflicts. Others had working cybernetics that were of ill condition, lacking serviceable maintenance over long durations. 

It could be argued that either of the factions did have their legitimate concerns but the evidence was quite the contrary. The sounds of distant shelling rang with gentle vibrations on the ground of the never-ending skirmishes that took place between Federal Marines, the State Peacekeepers, and their subsequent mercenary contractors. 

Among the protestors however were the unemployed both recent and long standing. These individuals had gathered but were only a fraction of the total number.

“I am like many of you; I’ve lost family in this war. I am all that is left of the Ettivala bloodline. After I am gone, there is nothing left. I’ve lost work, I’ve lost my home – I have nothing left, as do many of you. I vow to do whatever it takes to ensure your children never have to experience the sorrow, anguish, and loneliness I have felt.” Ettivala continued, focusing on her speech.

Among the crowd lifted, with resolve, a grizzled and wizened voice. The audience had dispersed and allowed Ettivala and the man to speak eye-to-eye despite some distance between them.

“Whatever it takes? Tell me, Miss Ettivala, are you willing to kill to back up those words?”

“Resorting to violence is a display of weakness; that one’s arguments and words aren’t enough to sway through logic and rationale whereas a savage, brutal swing of a sword would simply remove the arguer; an easy way out.” Ettivala responded at a normal volume, having lowered the amplifier to her hip.

“And how do you intend to prevent your enemy from doing that to you?”

The man was a hybrid Jin-Mei and Gallente, given the shape and form of his features. The lightly tinged accent was yet a prominent hint with each inflection of his words, suggesting that he originated from Luminaire. A patchy blonde beard seemed to have grown deliberately around the scars that decorated his lantern-shaped jaw. His uniform was battle-dress in function with a standard issue Federal Marines camouflage design. Upon each breast were the words “BALRIS AGINGHES”, respectively. 

Balris was no stranger to warfare, as evidenced by the appearance of numerous, grievous scars and burns that decorated his face. A single eye, blotted with milky white and red slurry, rendered useless by whatever had caused the wound. This physical history of his experience, further backed by the quiet mutterings of the crowd who insisted that he was – at the very least – a minor war hero of the Marines prior to the incursion of Clone Troopers that seemed ever on the rise.

Ettivala remained silent, fixated on the man as he slowly approached with the slightest of limps. She would not have noticed were it not for the occasional shimmer of morning light that reflected off the man’s cybernetic leg.

“You sound like you want change or secession. Secession would require that we become autonomous, independent of either the Federation or the State. How do you plan on that?” Balris inquired, pointedly.

“The people.” Ettivala snapped back without hesitation.

“Yes? What of the land that is owned by the Federation? The State? Everyone but those very people you speak of? The Federation and the State both create order, supply standards, and appease the necessity for contentment. Their methods are different and though the occupancy changes frequently… We need one or the other.” The scarred man explained, despite a notable lack of sincerity in his tone.

“The people are more than capable of governing themselves without the necessity of a self-appointed authority. It seems essential on the surface but an informed and involved community is apt to regard itself. Besides, I am not substantiating the separation or abolition of authority, merely the separation from a conflict that seemingly has no end, which we did not ask for, and serves no-one but pig headed politicians and stubborn generals.”

“Quite the contrary, if you want to escape from either, separation and abolition in full is the only way… One does not stop a war that has raged for hundreds of years; you stop the source.”

A moment of silence had washed over the audience prior to their whispering in quiet debate. Having weighed the merit of both participants of the debate, the people of the crowd were evenly mixed on what side to take. Balris adjusted his camouflaged jacket with a cold stare of his single useful eye at Ettivala, who stared back with a heated gaze.

“I’ll accept nothing less than separation without violence.” She retorted.

“You speak for us all?”

“I don’t. I speak for myself. I expect nothing less from these men and women gathered here today. They are more than capable of speaking for themselves, just as much as I.”

“Then you would advocate individuality without governance of a collective. What makes you think they would agree with you? Why should we fight for your beliefs if we disagree, even at the slightest?”

“We’ll die in vain for the benefit of those who fight for fighting’s sake, not for our sake.”

The debate intensified and where others would have grown bored and moved on to the less appealing routine of the daily life, the town began to flock with interest. Each denizen merely listened with intent between the two who spat reason: the War Hero asking the hard questions and the Protestor responding with seemingly all the right answers, knowing her tired and frustrated audience well. The masses formed coalescing groups – many in favor of Ettivala, being the only one who provided solutions, before the streets capacity forced them to merge. 

Bolstered by the resolve of her neighbors’ backing, Ettivala made one final push of reasoning against Balris’ endless inquisition. 

“I advocate that we rid ourselves of subservience to the Governance and the Empyreans alike. That we focus solely on the needs of we, the citizens, unshackled by the reasoning of men who would not see our plight, concerned with their own. 

I advocate the abolition of any who would declare authority over us – that true liberty remain not in the hands of corrupt legislature and judicial entities or the corporate elite, but in the hands of the people and their capability. Authority and entitlement, not in the hands of the aristocracy or the proletariat, but in the hands of all free peoples. That any who dare to impose influence does so in a capacity devoid of rights and significance. 

I advocate that we recognize that all forms of government, no matter how well intended, leads to the oppression of we, the people! That we strike, boycott, protest, and confiscate what truly belongs to us; that we do it now!” 

The crowd had immediately burst into an emphatic cheer with the boisterous finalization of Chamilie Ettivala’s words, exploding with catharsis. In their excitement, Ettivala stepped down from her heightened stage to approach the war hero, Balris, with an outstretched hand in gesture. The man extended his own to engage in gnarled grip of sentimental appreciation, giving a single nod. The two completely ignored by the sudden energy that had taken over the crowd, renewed with purpose.

“It seems like you have a way of getting the people roused, girl. I’ll admit I was a bit skeptical at first.” Balris explained with a candid grin.

“You saw them before your little inquisition. I doubt I would have been able to garner such a response if you hadn’t had your hand in the mix.” 

Ettivala’s silver eyes trailed down to the man’s chest, reading the nametags on each side before continuing.

“So tell me, Balris, what sort of interest do you have in all this? Clearly you wouldn’t have been here if not for that skepticism, surely, but why press it as hard as you did?”

“Perhaps I’m merely an old war veteran who needs to see the end of an age old routine. That chapter in my life isn’t over but I don’t see it ending in my lifetime with the way things are going now.” Balris explained.

“Imagine that, a war hero who’s sick of seeing the war. You should lead them, I am sure they will be more than happy to follow someone of your status – your experience. Lot of these people came when Lai Dai gained the development rights, looking for work. Lot more than that are old war veterans like you. I am sure they would follow someone whom they could relate.” Ettivala suggested with a genuine smile.

The veteran reached into his pocket and retrieved a thin, square metal case. He retrieved a paper roll of a bluish-green herb with red flecks – Calcadian Sage – known for its exclusive growth in the local area. The herb was a minor export but considered, locally, to be a healthier remedy to tobacco and with heavier quantities provided a mild hallucinogenic effect. He placed the roll to his dry lower lip and lit its end with a quick flash of an igniter. 

“Unfortunately, Miss Ettivala, I think you’ve already secured your place, whether you like it or not. You may have shot yourself in the foot with that little speech of yours. All I did was ask questions. It was your proposal.”

Ettivala grimaced and shook her head, casting her gaze down to the trash-covered ground as her black hair fell into her eyes. She shifted her stance to one side with a defiant creak of her leather boots. The woman look about her surroundings at the people who seemed well intent on celebrating the coalition of a single idea – her idea – for what was essentially a regression in establishment.

“No, I’m not a leader. I’m just another person, trying to get by in life without any more tears.” She said with genuine reluctance.

Balris extended his damaged hand to display the now busy street to her with a rough chuckle, shaking his head from side-to-side.

“You don’t understand, Ettivala. They chose you.” 

#

As the end of his rolled Calcadian Sage burned brighter with a sharp inhale, Balris had made a point to lock the munitions canister into the metal launch tube. Dark as it were, the only light was the light that shown from the mounted device attached to his headwear, which ran down his back in a length of synthetic fibers. 

The scarred man had begun to daydream, filling his thoughts with delusions of grandeur and fantasies of living a more simple life that opportunities provided had since passed. He pivoted on his heel and began to exit the pitch-black alley, stepping into the soft moonlight of the planet’s twin moons – one full, the other shadowed by the former – reflecting the yellow sun’s light some distance away.

“Nine meals…” He thought to himself, cocking a smirk that painted over his burn-scarred features. He gave a final, lengthy drag of the cigarette perched on his lower lip before pushing it out with his tongue to let it fall to the ground, raising the launcher to his shoulder and staring down the electronic sight at several flickering lights that began to descend onto the ground outside of a warehouse.

What soon followed was a powerful thump, an explosion that rocked the local buildings and shattered windows. The alley behind the man was completely concealed in a cloud of smoke as the missile launched with lightning precision. It flew for only a few seconds, just long enough for the pilot of the dropship to realize what was heading his way before igniting into flames and setting off a chain reaction of burning fuel.

Balris, clad in a traditional State Peacekeeper uniform, dropped the launcher to the ground and slid his hands into his pockets while his still working eye observed the flaming inferno that resulted from his efforts. As the craft burned to cinders, the food stockpiles within it smoldered. The local populace spilled from their condensed homes out onto the street in awe, observing from a distance. 

“Nine missed meals are all it takes for total anarchy…”