Post by Officer Genious on Sept 16, 2019 7:07:07 GMT -5
The lights of the spice hall flashed overhead. Red, white, gold... Red, white, gold. Soldiers and partygoers mixed with spice merchants and unsavory types. Most of the partygoers were all strangers, all bound together under deep bass and spice and vudka and gyrating bodies. Edword could see this from his little corner, but he wasn't as interested in them as he was in the spacers. He heard the call of the recruiters hawking up their captains and wages, adventures and tribulations. They were always tribulations. No one ever spoke of the danger unless it was thrill seeking, of horror unless it was triumph. A fresh mercenary signed up to a particularly loud recruiter, his rifle hanging awkwardly on his thin frame. He wouldn't last a week. The recruiter knew this but warmly welcomed him and directed him to a table. Only Edword could see the twinge of sadness in the recruiter's eyes. He was soft. Too soft. Not at all good for a recruiter. Still, he went about hawking up his captain.
Edword rose from his chair and pushed his way to the back of the building, but someone shouted.
"You! You there!" The soft recruiter met his eye as Edword turned around. "You've been to space; I can see it! Come back."
"No." With that, Edword left the spice hall and stepped out into the biting chill of Rychart Prime. It was a big place, crowded with bars and people and drones watching every step. That was fine. He had nothing to hide. He stepped off a curb and took a left, wandering down houses with bright flood lights and guards patrolling the grounds. Many glared at him as he passed, but did nothing. He was a regular here, despite the common cut of his coat, more practical than flashy in this neighborhood. And so Edword passed a particularly big house and hung a right into a quieter neighborhood, with fewer guards and gates. This was were the real wealth lived.
He passed the neatly-cut hedges shading his front yard and around the glass and metal art that curved around his pathway, still but gleaming under soft porch lights. It was good art-- he didn't care about the price, but bought things that caught his eye. He may be a practical man, but art-- especially sculptures always had a place in his heart. There was no room aboard a ship for such things, not amongst sweaty gunners and crew dogs, but here, in freedom, he could have all the sculptures he wanted. A tap at his door keypad let him into his home. The contractors tried so hard to upgrade his homes, even offering a hefty discount for a man with his fortune. But Edword refused. His fortune was simply a pension for him and his descendants. He had no use for most of his credits.
And it showed. His home was plain on the inside, hidden under neat carpets and a handful of ordinary couches and chairs. He would have to get rid of those. Edword kicked off his boots and placed them neatly in a softly curved cubby near the door, next to similar plain boots with twins in similar plain homes across the planet. Edword grunted to himself as he took the steps up to his favorite room. A plain door opened.
The room was not plain.
Walls hung precious flags of many factions, taken from ships boarded and pirates on far away planets and quadrants. Above a fireplace pictures hung of crew members at rest, aboard new ships and posing with famous dignitaries. On the mantle itself, a Xeno codpiece encased in glass bore a plaque: "Grab 'em by the balls!". Next to it a picture hung of a bounty hunter, helmet tucked neatly under her arm as she threw an arm around Edword. It was many years ago, but the void engine left him the same as he did decades ago, new but old in a body aged only twenty-seven.
He stared at the picture for some time, recalling a friend long gone, a best friend lost on some wilderness he couldn't recall the name of. His eyes roamed over the other picture, of lost and missing teammates. His heart ached. Some old hurts never healed. But this pain was a welcome one. Not so much because he had survived so much as he could still remember them. Long days on watch, a shift that lasted too long or too short depending on his friends. Wild yells as one gunner got too drunk and danced with a spice girl busy on a pole. Snorts as a bounty hunter ripped into a soldier for 'confusing' their rifles. Of snipers snoring under the sun while a wanna-be comedian drew lewd images on his face. The snipers were not amused.
Edword smiled and leaned back. He still remembered, even if they were gone. And at least someone would carry on their memory. He had even left space behind to ensure keepsakes and what had become antiques would be passed onto grandsons, great-grandsons who barely knew they existed. Passed on their stories, their heroics and antics to faces who could barely comprehend the joys of such a terrifying journey to them. Sometimes a small face would light up, a future spacer who now dreamed of journeying across the Void itself. He had done his duty. Served his time. Retired to enjoy his remaining riches and live a life of leisure.
It didn't last. All the glittering gold and the mansions failed to please him. Fine food and wine tasted of ash and drugs only bought him occassonal relief from the tedium of colonial life. Even a big city like Rychart Prime had a routine. Days and nights, always under the same sharp lights of drones and patrols. The noise of people passing through a city for an ordinary life in an ordinary city.
The Void had gotten her hold on him-- he couldn't stop staring when he looked up and saw distant stars as the world rotated imperceptively. So many planets out there, and more even farther. He had seen more than the world. He had seen more adventure and heartache and wonders than any colonial ever would, or could even imagine. And yet his feet stayed here.
His feet began to itch. Edword pushed himself out of his chair and made his way to bed. He paused at the door, looking back at the bounty hunter and himself. He was smiling then. His heart ached. He closed his eyes but for a minute before turning away. But he did not go to his plain bed in a plain house for a plain life. He laced up a tattered pair of boots and stepped back into the cool, crisp air. Dawn hadn't yet risen but the call was still there and he ran to meet it.
The Void called him, and he dared to answer.
Edword rose from his chair and pushed his way to the back of the building, but someone shouted.
"You! You there!" The soft recruiter met his eye as Edword turned around. "You've been to space; I can see it! Come back."
"No." With that, Edword left the spice hall and stepped out into the biting chill of Rychart Prime. It was a big place, crowded with bars and people and drones watching every step. That was fine. He had nothing to hide. He stepped off a curb and took a left, wandering down houses with bright flood lights and guards patrolling the grounds. Many glared at him as he passed, but did nothing. He was a regular here, despite the common cut of his coat, more practical than flashy in this neighborhood. And so Edword passed a particularly big house and hung a right into a quieter neighborhood, with fewer guards and gates. This was were the real wealth lived.
He passed the neatly-cut hedges shading his front yard and around the glass and metal art that curved around his pathway, still but gleaming under soft porch lights. It was good art-- he didn't care about the price, but bought things that caught his eye. He may be a practical man, but art-- especially sculptures always had a place in his heart. There was no room aboard a ship for such things, not amongst sweaty gunners and crew dogs, but here, in freedom, he could have all the sculptures he wanted. A tap at his door keypad let him into his home. The contractors tried so hard to upgrade his homes, even offering a hefty discount for a man with his fortune. But Edword refused. His fortune was simply a pension for him and his descendants. He had no use for most of his credits.
And it showed. His home was plain on the inside, hidden under neat carpets and a handful of ordinary couches and chairs. He would have to get rid of those. Edword kicked off his boots and placed them neatly in a softly curved cubby near the door, next to similar plain boots with twins in similar plain homes across the planet. Edword grunted to himself as he took the steps up to his favorite room. A plain door opened.
The room was not plain.
Walls hung precious flags of many factions, taken from ships boarded and pirates on far away planets and quadrants. Above a fireplace pictures hung of crew members at rest, aboard new ships and posing with famous dignitaries. On the mantle itself, a Xeno codpiece encased in glass bore a plaque: "Grab 'em by the balls!". Next to it a picture hung of a bounty hunter, helmet tucked neatly under her arm as she threw an arm around Edword. It was many years ago, but the void engine left him the same as he did decades ago, new but old in a body aged only twenty-seven.
He stared at the picture for some time, recalling a friend long gone, a best friend lost on some wilderness he couldn't recall the name of. His eyes roamed over the other picture, of lost and missing teammates. His heart ached. Some old hurts never healed. But this pain was a welcome one. Not so much because he had survived so much as he could still remember them. Long days on watch, a shift that lasted too long or too short depending on his friends. Wild yells as one gunner got too drunk and danced with a spice girl busy on a pole. Snorts as a bounty hunter ripped into a soldier for 'confusing' their rifles. Of snipers snoring under the sun while a wanna-be comedian drew lewd images on his face. The snipers were not amused.
Edword smiled and leaned back. He still remembered, even if they were gone. And at least someone would carry on their memory. He had even left space behind to ensure keepsakes and what had become antiques would be passed onto grandsons, great-grandsons who barely knew they existed. Passed on their stories, their heroics and antics to faces who could barely comprehend the joys of such a terrifying journey to them. Sometimes a small face would light up, a future spacer who now dreamed of journeying across the Void itself. He had done his duty. Served his time. Retired to enjoy his remaining riches and live a life of leisure.
It didn't last. All the glittering gold and the mansions failed to please him. Fine food and wine tasted of ash and drugs only bought him occassonal relief from the tedium of colonial life. Even a big city like Rychart Prime had a routine. Days and nights, always under the same sharp lights of drones and patrols. The noise of people passing through a city for an ordinary life in an ordinary city.
The Void had gotten her hold on him-- he couldn't stop staring when he looked up and saw distant stars as the world rotated imperceptively. So many planets out there, and more even farther. He had seen more than the world. He had seen more adventure and heartache and wonders than any colonial ever would, or could even imagine. And yet his feet stayed here.
His feet began to itch. Edword pushed himself out of his chair and made his way to bed. He paused at the door, looking back at the bounty hunter and himself. He was smiling then. His heart ached. He closed his eyes but for a minute before turning away. But he did not go to his plain bed in a plain house for a plain life. He laced up a tattered pair of boots and stepped back into the cool, crisp air. Dawn hadn't yet risen but the call was still there and he ran to meet it.
The Void called him, and he dared to answer.
