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We Shall Overcome
Miharu sighed as she sat behind the five empty caskets in the bar on Dau Senate, watching pilots trickle in. The caskets were empty not because they were awaiting bodies from the mortician, but because there simply were none to be found.
Five objects sat on pedestals nearby, each wrapped in the finest Divinian silk, each next to one of the caskets. Each of these objects had a connection to the casket it was standing near, a special bond with the existance of the person who should have been standing there, smiling amicably instead of being atoms on the solar wind.
Soon, the seats were full, and people were beginning to crowd in the back. Miharu grabbed her papers and stepped up to the podium.
"I wish we were gathered here under better circumstances, however, it is painfully obvious because of the five caskets behind me that we are not. Last night, a large explosion wracked the portion of Corvus Hold where the Black Lance, a mercenary guild, has most of its facilities. Five are dead, and nothing more than a finger was recovered from the wreckage. The rest of the guild has vanished without a trace, and I can only hope that they were not in the same place as these five.
"These five, Alamar of the Itani, Borb the Second of the Itani, formerly of the Serco, Holden Caulfield of the Itani, Shape of the Itani, also formerly of the Serco, and Tumblemonster of the Union of Independant Territories, were all fine combat pilots. They were outstanding members of their guild, welcome members of society in general, and above all, they were honorable in everything they did.
"Alamar," Miharu continued, moving to the first casket and pedestal, "was a master computer technician and sharpshooter. The Lance's supercomputer, now the most powerful computer known to humanity, was his doing. It was his life's work. For him, I give this tome containing the history of the computer, from its origins on the original human homeworld, Earth." Miharu unwrapped the book and gently placed it in the casket.
"Borb," she said, moving on to the next casket, "was a master pilot, programmer, and most importantly one of my dearest friends. I was always able to count on him to be there when I was upset and in need of a hug. Now I have no one. For you, Borb, I have this bottle of Serco Roid Rammer. I know you loved it so much." Miharu unwrapped the bottle and gently placed it in Borb's casket as a tear fell from her eye.
"Holden Caulfield was a poet, a riddle-weaver, and a master in a furball. I didn't ever meet him in person, and I am truly sorry that this is the case. To him, I give this volume of haiku and tanka that has been collected from the writings of my family since the settling of Itan." Miharu unwrapped the book, and placed it in the casket.
"Shape," she continued, "was the original founder of the Black Lance. Some of us know Shape as a pirate. Others, a friend. All of us, as someone to be respected. Shape, I give you this lance of the purest obsidian. May it symbolize the never-ending memory of you, your friends, and your guild." Miharu unwrapped the obsidian-black lance and placed it gently into Shape's casket.
"Tumblemonster," she continued, this time with a small smile on her face. "I mentored this young man when he first recieved his pilot's license, and he never forgot it. An eager student, he quickly outpaced what I could teach him. I was very happy to see that he had found people who could teach him what I could not, and that he still remembered who I was. Always, he had a sense of humor with him. Always, he was courteous. For that, I give back what I could not before: a collection of jokes from all over known space." Miharu unwrapped the book and placed it in Tumblemonster's casket.
"And now, if you would all turn your booklets to page two, I have some passages from Itani and Serco texts that I feel are relevant."
The sound of rustling synthpaper could be heard for a few seconds before Miharu began to speak again, this time in a chant in the style of the Itani monks.
"Discordant time. The smallest of enemies un-mans them all.
Hidden within the hidden. A breath, and then darkness.
Torn pages curl and brown. The flames fly up.
In the flickering light, a cry.
Who will lift the fallen stones?
Who will link the broken chain?"1
Miharu opens her eyes from the half-meditative state she had slid into, and moved on to the Serco passage.
"Those who dare to try to stop the inevitable
Will be met with inevitable force.
Those who try to change society for the worse
Will find themselves removed from it promptly.
The Itani tried to stop the advent of genetics.
The Akanese tried to eliminate us.
We removed them from our domain."2
"And with that," Miharu said, closing her book, "I implore you to look around you. These deaths were a result of malice, of spite. Everything humanity has worked for will be undone if we let these deaths go unpunished.
"The Black Lance is no more, but its Honor Guard is beginning to awaken. We will not stand by and watch the cancers of humanity, be they Itani, Serco, UIT or otherwise, destroy everything."
Miharu looked at the caskets, then at the crowd.
"They were my friends, and at times my family. I'm sure some of us all wanted them to leave us be as we hauled cargo once in a while, but did any of us truly want this? Did we?
"No. We did not. And for that, I implore you to help prevent this from happening again.
"Alamar, Borb, Holden, Shape, Tumble and the rest of the Lance... you will be avenged. Your Honor Guard will make sure your memory lives on."
Miharu glanced at the familiar shape of Dr. Lecter in the back of the crowd.
"Warriors... look for us in grey."
1 Korokh Jimah, vv. 4302-3, 11383-86
2 Writings of Lady Serco, vv. 16251-7
Five objects sat on pedestals nearby, each wrapped in the finest Divinian silk, each next to one of the caskets. Each of these objects had a connection to the casket it was standing near, a special bond with the existance of the person who should have been standing there, smiling amicably instead of being atoms on the solar wind.
Soon, the seats were full, and people were beginning to crowd in the back. Miharu grabbed her papers and stepped up to the podium.
"I wish we were gathered here under better circumstances, however, it is painfully obvious because of the five caskets behind me that we are not. Last night, a large explosion wracked the portion of Corvus Hold where the Black Lance, a mercenary guild, has most of its facilities. Five are dead, and nothing more than a finger was recovered from the wreckage. The rest of the guild has vanished without a trace, and I can only hope that they were not in the same place as these five.
"These five, Alamar of the Itani, Borb the Second of the Itani, formerly of the Serco, Holden Caulfield of the Itani, Shape of the Itani, also formerly of the Serco, and Tumblemonster of the Union of Independant Territories, were all fine combat pilots. They were outstanding members of their guild, welcome members of society in general, and above all, they were honorable in everything they did.
"Alamar," Miharu continued, moving to the first casket and pedestal, "was a master computer technician and sharpshooter. The Lance's supercomputer, now the most powerful computer known to humanity, was his doing. It was his life's work. For him, I give this tome containing the history of the computer, from its origins on the original human homeworld, Earth." Miharu unwrapped the book and gently placed it in the casket.
"Borb," she said, moving on to the next casket, "was a master pilot, programmer, and most importantly one of my dearest friends. I was always able to count on him to be there when I was upset and in need of a hug. Now I have no one. For you, Borb, I have this bottle of Serco Roid Rammer. I know you loved it so much." Miharu unwrapped the bottle and gently placed it in Borb's casket as a tear fell from her eye.
"Holden Caulfield was a poet, a riddle-weaver, and a master in a furball. I didn't ever meet him in person, and I am truly sorry that this is the case. To him, I give this volume of haiku and tanka that has been collected from the writings of my family since the settling of Itan." Miharu unwrapped the book, and placed it in the casket.
"Shape," she continued, "was the original founder of the Black Lance. Some of us know Shape as a pirate. Others, a friend. All of us, as someone to be respected. Shape, I give you this lance of the purest obsidian. May it symbolize the never-ending memory of you, your friends, and your guild." Miharu unwrapped the obsidian-black lance and placed it gently into Shape's casket.
"Tumblemonster," she continued, this time with a small smile on her face. "I mentored this young man when he first recieved his pilot's license, and he never forgot it. An eager student, he quickly outpaced what I could teach him. I was very happy to see that he had found people who could teach him what I could not, and that he still remembered who I was. Always, he had a sense of humor with him. Always, he was courteous. For that, I give back what I could not before: a collection of jokes from all over known space." Miharu unwrapped the book and placed it in Tumblemonster's casket.
"And now, if you would all turn your booklets to page two, I have some passages from Itani and Serco texts that I feel are relevant."
The sound of rustling synthpaper could be heard for a few seconds before Miharu began to speak again, this time in a chant in the style of the Itani monks.
"Discordant time. The smallest of enemies un-mans them all.
Hidden within the hidden. A breath, and then darkness.
Torn pages curl and brown. The flames fly up.
In the flickering light, a cry.
Who will lift the fallen stones?
Who will link the broken chain?"1
Miharu opens her eyes from the half-meditative state she had slid into, and moved on to the Serco passage.
"Those who dare to try to stop the inevitable
Will be met with inevitable force.
Those who try to change society for the worse
Will find themselves removed from it promptly.
The Itani tried to stop the advent of genetics.
The Akanese tried to eliminate us.
We removed them from our domain."2
"And with that," Miharu said, closing her book, "I implore you to look around you. These deaths were a result of malice, of spite. Everything humanity has worked for will be undone if we let these deaths go unpunished.
"The Black Lance is no more, but its Honor Guard is beginning to awaken. We will not stand by and watch the cancers of humanity, be they Itani, Serco, UIT or otherwise, destroy everything."
Miharu looked at the caskets, then at the crowd.
"They were my friends, and at times my family. I'm sure some of us all wanted them to leave us be as we hauled cargo once in a while, but did any of us truly want this? Did we?
"No. We did not. And for that, I implore you to help prevent this from happening again.
"Alamar, Borb, Holden, Shape, Tumble and the rest of the Lance... you will be avenged. Your Honor Guard will make sure your memory lives on."
Miharu glanced at the familiar shape of Dr. Lecter in the back of the crowd.
"Warriors... look for us in grey."
1 Korokh Jimah, vv. 4302-3, 11383-86
2 Writings of Lady Serco, vv. 16251-7
Zoras wished he had been there. He wished that for once he wasn't playing with hivebots out in the asteroid fields. Just once, he should have done something because it was worth doing, not because it was fun.
He had never been to Fortune's Kitchen... heh, he didn't even call her by her real name...
"I'll stop in there sometime, but I doubt it will be what I expect... Borb had invited me to drink with him, and sing another drunken song... it's just too bad I won't get to take him up on that offer."
And with that, Zoras jumped out of the bot filled sector and tried to find something worth fighting for... not just his personal enjoyment.
If anyone had been in his cockpit with him... they would have seen a tear, of what could have been blood, or lubricator fluid... or the start of a new life.
He had never been to Fortune's Kitchen... heh, he didn't even call her by her real name...
"I'll stop in there sometime, but I doubt it will be what I expect... Borb had invited me to drink with him, and sing another drunken song... it's just too bad I won't get to take him up on that offer."
And with that, Zoras jumped out of the bot filled sector and tried to find something worth fighting for... not just his personal enjoyment.
If anyone had been in his cockpit with him... they would have seen a tear, of what could have been blood, or lubricator fluid... or the start of a new life.
excellent well done miharu. You said it all. good for you
Ghost sat in the back of the bar in Dau Senate, head covered by the hood of a cloak. If members of the council of Eo knew he was here, there would be severe penalties. But reguardless of consequences, Ghost had come to the funeral to say farewell to his old friends. They may have been pirates, but several of these pirates had basically taught Ghost how to fly... the hard way. He remembered the countless duels with the members of BLAK, both of them shooting to kill but with grins on their faces. Ghost walked by the caskets and paid his repsects to each one.
Alamar, while honing his rail skills, he had unknowingly taught Ghost the art of dodging rails. This knowledge had saved his life in combat many times.
Borb The Second, was a painful loss for Ghost. He was proof that the Serco and Itani could co-exist.
Holden Caulfield, although Sputnik had tought him the skills of the dogfight, it was Holden who had helped Ghost perfect what he had learned. But more than that, Holden was a friend, and would be deeply missed.
Tumblemonster, a pilot Ghost had barely known, but had recognized great potential in. Who knows what may have become of tumblemonster were he still alive today.
Shape, Ghost could still remember the first time he bested Shape in a duel. The victory was of course short lived, and Ghost still had half a mind that Shape had let him win. Few pilots could boast they had seen someone more accurate with energy weapons than Shape. A pioneer of his time.
Ghost sighed and turned away from the caskets. As he walked back to his ship, he was overcome by a feeling of loneliness. He hopped into his cockpit and departed the docking bay, but did not plot his course for SKV headquarters. The universe was changing. Another age of Vendetta was comming to an end. The great pilots of old were leaving. The generation of today would not grow the way that the old had. In a universe where constant combat with not only your enemies but duels with your allies sharpened your skills to perfection. But now a new threat was comming. The hive was growing and pilots were needed reguardless of their talent.
The void left by the great pilots of old would never be filled. Ghost was near alone now in this new place he suddenly did not recognize anymore. He set his course for Sedina, sector B-8. The future looked bleak for not Itani, not Serco, but humankind.
Alamar, while honing his rail skills, he had unknowingly taught Ghost the art of dodging rails. This knowledge had saved his life in combat many times.
Borb The Second, was a painful loss for Ghost. He was proof that the Serco and Itani could co-exist.
Holden Caulfield, although Sputnik had tought him the skills of the dogfight, it was Holden who had helped Ghost perfect what he had learned. But more than that, Holden was a friend, and would be deeply missed.
Tumblemonster, a pilot Ghost had barely known, but had recognized great potential in. Who knows what may have become of tumblemonster were he still alive today.
Shape, Ghost could still remember the first time he bested Shape in a duel. The victory was of course short lived, and Ghost still had half a mind that Shape had let him win. Few pilots could boast they had seen someone more accurate with energy weapons than Shape. A pioneer of his time.
Ghost sighed and turned away from the caskets. As he walked back to his ship, he was overcome by a feeling of loneliness. He hopped into his cockpit and departed the docking bay, but did not plot his course for SKV headquarters. The universe was changing. Another age of Vendetta was comming to an end. The great pilots of old were leaving. The generation of today would not grow the way that the old had. In a universe where constant combat with not only your enemies but duels with your allies sharpened your skills to perfection. But now a new threat was comming. The hive was growing and pilots were needed reguardless of their talent.
The void left by the great pilots of old would never be filled. Ghost was near alone now in this new place he suddenly did not recognize anymore. He set his course for Sedina, sector B-8. The future looked bleak for not Itani, not Serco, but humankind.
I walked into the bar on Dau, taking a minute for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. The caskets were easy to find, just next to the counter. By each coffin was a picture of the pirate, no, mercenary who should lay inside.
I skipped the first coffin, Alamar's. I knew him to be as honorable as all the others, but he and I had never really talked, and it would be a disservice to his memory for me to try to bullsh*t my way through a rememberence speach.
The second I paused at. Borb's. I couldn't help but laugh as I saw his picture. Others glarred at me, and I held back further chuckling. He looked so funny in it. But then I remembered why I was here, and any chance of laughing ended suddenly. Borb had been one of my greatest friends, despite all the mocking of me he'd do to my fellow guild mates. He confided more than my pirate secret when I asked him to, and had even lead me down the path of auto-dodge for combat. This was both a curse and a prize, and I would always remind him of the dual sides to my relying on a computer program.
Holden was next. He wouldn't like knowing that I stopped at his casket, but I didn't care. I had made some bad choices and ruined our friendship, but he would never know the degree of the regret I held about it. I smiled, remembering when we were together in ISP (he had been the last living member other than me) and he told me that he was going to embark on a "Robin Hood" quest, robbing from the rich and giving to the poor. I had been displeased, and thought it a foolish quest, but he had become more successful at it than I could imagine.
I passed the spot Holden's body should have been, arriving next to Shape's coffin. We talked less and less, and I didn't know him as well as I might've liked, but he had always trusted me when I told him Starbucks Ninja wasn't an IA spy, and for that he had earned my deepest respect. His combat skills were unrivaled, his honor unmatched. He might've lead two of the most fearsome pirate and merc guilds in history, but he had been one of the greatest people in history.
Tumblemonster's supposed coffin was on the other side of Shape's, and I paused at it, but breifly. He and I had never gotten along, but I still admired him. Despite the fearsome pirate he liked to parade as, I had many times seen him teaching newer pilots how to fight. Sure he might not be able to do math, but he still could fight like hell.
I looked back at the five coffins lined up. Rumors spread that all that had been left from the explosion was a finger, and that DNA matches confirmed that it was one of BLAK's, but so what. It didn't take Starbucks Ninja being in their ranks for the brief time he was to know that BLAK was more than willing to cut off a member's finger to mislead people. They wouldn't have been killed by an explosion. Maybe there really was one, but the five would not have fallen. No, one of them was flying with a new ID with only nine fingers, or perhaps some poor new recruit gave it up, but BLAK would be back, no matter what anyone else said.
I skipped the first coffin, Alamar's. I knew him to be as honorable as all the others, but he and I had never really talked, and it would be a disservice to his memory for me to try to bullsh*t my way through a rememberence speach.
The second I paused at. Borb's. I couldn't help but laugh as I saw his picture. Others glarred at me, and I held back further chuckling. He looked so funny in it. But then I remembered why I was here, and any chance of laughing ended suddenly. Borb had been one of my greatest friends, despite all the mocking of me he'd do to my fellow guild mates. He confided more than my pirate secret when I asked him to, and had even lead me down the path of auto-dodge for combat. This was both a curse and a prize, and I would always remind him of the dual sides to my relying on a computer program.
Holden was next. He wouldn't like knowing that I stopped at his casket, but I didn't care. I had made some bad choices and ruined our friendship, but he would never know the degree of the regret I held about it. I smiled, remembering when we were together in ISP (he had been the last living member other than me) and he told me that he was going to embark on a "Robin Hood" quest, robbing from the rich and giving to the poor. I had been displeased, and thought it a foolish quest, but he had become more successful at it than I could imagine.
I passed the spot Holden's body should have been, arriving next to Shape's coffin. We talked less and less, and I didn't know him as well as I might've liked, but he had always trusted me when I told him Starbucks Ninja wasn't an IA spy, and for that he had earned my deepest respect. His combat skills were unrivaled, his honor unmatched. He might've lead two of the most fearsome pirate and merc guilds in history, but he had been one of the greatest people in history.
Tumblemonster's supposed coffin was on the other side of Shape's, and I paused at it, but breifly. He and I had never gotten along, but I still admired him. Despite the fearsome pirate he liked to parade as, I had many times seen him teaching newer pilots how to fight. Sure he might not be able to do math, but he still could fight like hell.
I looked back at the five coffins lined up. Rumors spread that all that had been left from the explosion was a finger, and that DNA matches confirmed that it was one of BLAK's, but so what. It didn't take Starbucks Ninja being in their ranks for the brief time he was to know that BLAK was more than willing to cut off a member's finger to mislead people. They wouldn't have been killed by an explosion. Maybe there really was one, but the five would not have fallen. No, one of them was flying with a new ID with only nine fingers, or perhaps some poor new recruit gave it up, but BLAK would be back, no matter what anyone else said.
Your deaths, however unnatural, shall not be in vain.
M'at was suprised to hear that 5 of the most prominat members of the infamous Black Lance guild had died, and even more suprised when he found out that it was due to an accedent.
"I always thought they'd be they type to go down in a blaze of glory" thought M'at as he stood in the back of the sisable crowd. It seemed like everyone was disappearing one way or another. Not long ago M'at's teacher 2Seraph had "trancended mortal existance" whatever that ment, and now this...
M'at thought back to his memories of the Black Lance members who's empty caskets layed befor him. Countless encounters in B-8 came to minde, most of them epic tales worthy of note, and almost all of them involving M'at spending enough time in his escape pod to have written them down, but instead making paper merauders.
But of all of the 5 M'at was saddest to see Borb and Tumblemonster go. Borb was the first person M'at had found who seemd to get the idea of counting coup. And Tumble seemed to like the concept himself, although he never did seem to get the "non-leathal" part quite right.
After the ceramony M'at headed back to his ship, and while taking off thought about how much more dull his trade runs would be without the Black Lance to keep grey space safe from honest traders.
"I always thought they'd be they type to go down in a blaze of glory" thought M'at as he stood in the back of the sisable crowd. It seemed like everyone was disappearing one way or another. Not long ago M'at's teacher 2Seraph had "trancended mortal existance" whatever that ment, and now this...
M'at thought back to his memories of the Black Lance members who's empty caskets layed befor him. Countless encounters in B-8 came to minde, most of them epic tales worthy of note, and almost all of them involving M'at spending enough time in his escape pod to have written them down, but instead making paper merauders.
But of all of the 5 M'at was saddest to see Borb and Tumblemonster go. Borb was the first person M'at had found who seemd to get the idea of counting coup. And Tumble seemed to like the concept himself, although he never did seem to get the "non-leathal" part quite right.
After the ceramony M'at headed back to his ship, and while taking off thought about how much more dull his trade runs would be without the Black Lance to keep grey space safe from honest traders.