Clouds hovered over a small little town seemingly placed in the middle of nowhere. Amongst the infinite vastness of the universe little hamlets like this were often rendered insignificant. Untold billions lived and died every year, wars raged on a cosmic scale that made the plights of individual planets, nevermind those of small communities and families, seem nearly nonexistent. Granted this small town, like the numerous cities that spread across the expense of Solitude, held a vastly disproportionate influence on the rest of the empire. No one would think the voices of these people could have sway over countless lives. That was the terrible beauty of the Federation, the frightening majesty of Democracy at work.
On a glance was a stark contrast to the decadence and excess of Crystal Boulevard, yet the people who built both places were much the same. Warlike, sometimes more then a little paranoid. The people were nice much of the time, at the very least they put on polite smiles for the tourists. But as soon as they were out of sight, they would whisper to one another and look on with suspicion for a multitude of reasons.
The largest one, of course, being the xenophobia. Chet-Shi knew that all too well, it had been awhile since they last visited their hometown.
Blue light flickered off their glasses as their eyes took in the latest feed of information. One hand was resting on a copy of the Gallentean constitution, one of several different books they kept in their possession out in this remote part of the world. For all the remarks, for all the looks, for all the poking and prodding they never once told them what to do, or who to be. They implied, suggested, judged, but never forced. When outsiders tried? they fought to the death to stop it. A small smile graced their face as rain began to patter against the window. Becoming a Capsuleer apparently hadn’t robbed their enjoyment of that sound. They don’t know why they thought it would to begin with, perhaps the sadness at knowing they wouldn’t hear it for a long time after they left planetside.
They pushed aside some of the papers resting on their hard wood table, what did change was the bizarre mundanity of merely being in a house rather then the Minmatar station above world. To an extent the sensation of being out of pod in and of itself could sometimes be a bit disorienting, sometimes they identified more with the ship then their own body. Part of them wondered if perhaps that was a side effect of who, and for that matter what, they were? Having ones consciousness transferred from person to child over and over again for generations had to have some lingering effect on the Intaki psychology. Maybe it reacted to linking to a newborn ship much the same way.
Images of war flashed through their vision, spreading out like ripples through a pond.
Humanity keeps having to learn the same lessons over again. The more things change the more they stay the same. Their eyes flicker over reports, depopulated worlds, devoured suns, massacred soldiers, burning frigates, the folly of indecision and corruption. They could feel a part of her consciousness suddenly seizing control of their thought process. In all these endless wars across a billion worlds pain and suffering is a constant, love and healing an exception, teachers few and far between. Maybe the others had a good reason to be suspicious, considering what they were contemplating.
Their hand ran along the dark green cover, their gaze flickering back towards the window. Yet this was exactly what the Federation was about, the pillars it was built on, pillars that had in many ways been eroded and reinforced over the centuries. Like everything, like Ida, it was a cycle. A cycle that they were still proud to be part of despite everything.
In a way this was the truest thing to the Gallentean spirit. An individual chooses what to do, even if it doesn’t strictly align with the greater nations interests. They had gone through a dozen justifications in their mind for why they were doing it, what the purpose was: Maybe these people would change their minds? that if they got to see another day they may come around to their point of view especially after all the hardship they had gone through. Perhaps they might even come back and disrupt the status quo, flip everything on it’s head. In their most cynical moments they thought all they would do is make their life just a little more comfortable in the end and in the grand scheme of things they would reduce a little pain and nothing much would change.
Each excuse was taken, examined, and promptly discarded.
This was unorthodox, and they ought to own up to the simple fact that if half these people knew what was going on in this little home of theirs they would of been taken to the authorities, if not dragged into the street. But it was the right thing to do, and they knew it too. If they did this right no one would know it happened, who would even believe such a thing would be traced back to Solitude of all places? No one who had been there, that much was certain.
A notification caught their attention. They had to catch up with one of the many Ni-Kuuni who they had met in simpler times. The blue light flickered off and they moved to stand, taking the book in the crook of their arm as they made their way to leave.
They had a lot of work to do.