The place was crowded. People danced under the neon lights. The music thrummed and blared from the speakers, sweeping everyone away to another plane.
The crowd parted, oblivious, so taken with the music and the moment. The waiter, human and well built, clean shaven and bare chested, showing the perfection of human musculature, walked silently. His glossy black pants reflected the neon lights, winking as he knelt beside the couch, black, with green highlights. He held a tray up, with a single glass on top.
She was lounging on the couch. Her platform heels hung from the edge. Her dress, reaching to the mid of her thigh, was black, shiny, and like a second skin for her sinuous body. A small eagle in green broke the darkness on her left breast. She took the glass the waiter had just brought her. Her hand was refined, her nails long and polished black, with a small eagle head as a dot of green on her index.
The glass was nearly invisible, so clear that the green drink seemed to float in the open. It was cool to the touch of those glossy black lips. Ahhh… She leaned back, enjoying the moment. Her lips pulled into a smile, revealing pointed teeth. Her eyes twinkled, two pools of black, as she put the glass back on the trail held by the kneeling waiter.
“We are Gallente,” she whispered with allure, a whisper that should have been lost in the music and yet was perfectly audible.
A whisper that pushed us back, away from her, away from the crowd and into the darkness…
… a darkness that suddenly opened back up, but this time, the neon lights weren’t there anymore, but a stark light was, the one of a laboratory.
Tools, boxes, and experiments crowded the tables and the shelves all around her. She stood in front of a white panel, where marker thin formulas were crammed in between diagrams and annotations: the language of science, of innovation and of progress.
She turned with a dazzling white smile, the smile of those who believed in their work, in their research, in their call. She pushed a strand of unruly dark hair behind her ear. Her almond eyes were green, bright pools of life, held away from the world by a pair of transparent glasses. She was dressed in a white laboratory coat, hiding the clothes below, only letting them peek out as the white moved with her. Blouse and trousers, they were the fashionable clothes of a young person in the prime of her life.
She glanced away. Something in her invisible overview must have distracted her, but her attention was soon back, as was her smile. “We are Gallente,” she said in a crystalline voice, full of pride.
The laboratory started receding, and she disappeared as the darkness came back…
… only to open back up on a hellish world: dust on the floor, sparks in the air, the bright searing color of molten metal turning everything else darker. Beams and metal constructs crowded the floor, cranes moved above, and people were tiny ants in the massive space.
The frames of prefab buildings filled the space. They were still bare and there was a lot to be done before someone could call them home. Inside one of them, she was sitting across a metal beam, as sparks flew all around her. She was welding two other beams-part of the larger structure. Her clothes were hardened and plain, the clothes of heavy duty workers, made to resist the wear and tear of work.
Her welding flame died, and she huffed, raising her protective faceplate. She grinned, her dark skin crossed by a few drops of sweat. Her eyes were the dark of sweet chocolate, bursting with life and hope: they were building on the frontier, they were reaching to where none had reached before. Her full lips pulled into a smile as she breathed “We are Gallente,” her words, her rich voice, were lost in the grinding of metals and construction.
She pulled her face plate down, and the flame flickered and steadied just as darkness took us in again…
… only to open back up to the blinding light of ice. Ice everywhere, as far as the eye could see. Tiny snowflakes carried by the wind reflected the sun above, but it was a cold sun, too feeble to bring any warmth to the crouched soldiers. They were hiding behind a ledge made of snow and stone, dressed in white and greys, camouflaging with their surroundings. While most were hiding below the edge, one was peering into the scope of a rifle, toward a distant target.
She glanced to the side, wide dark goggles over a white and grey mask, protecting her face from freezing temperatures and biting winds. She reached out to pull down the mask and raise her goggles. Her lips were thin, her features chiseled, carrying a feeling of cold and hardness, the hardness of a military life, but in those light blue eyes, there was a warmth, the warmth of a defender.
“We are Gallente,” she said plainly, only a hint of a smile tugging at the edge of her lips. She was a defender, focused on fighting the enemy, and the focus called for no emotion. She pulled her googles down and mask up as she turned to peer back into the scope.
The huddled squad receded, so small in the sea of snow and ice, the white blinding landscape being encroached by the swallowing darkness taking us in…
… but this time, there was only endless darkness.
At least until small dots of green light started appearing, lines started connecting them: those were the systems of the Gallente Federation, those were the lives of all the people who lived in the Federation, who made it what it was.
The Gallente Federation logo appeared superimposed to the star map graph, proud in all its beauty. A chorus of voices spoke out with the same pride:
“We are Gallente!”
I would like to submit this to the YC 126 New Eden Capsuleer’s Writing Contest in the Prose category.
OOC Commentary
This piece came as a video, I saw this as an advertisement like video, in a very cinematic way, as I was brainstorming for another piece. It felt too good to forget about it. I tried to touch different types of Gallente, the modification and party lover, the scientist, the hard working colonist and the soldier, and through them different styles, cultures and ways of the Gallente Federation.