Blog Banter #6 - He Gave Up The Stars (Fiction)

Welcome to the sixth installment of the EVE Blog Banter, the monthly EVE Online blogging extravaganza created by CrazyKinux. The EVE Blog Banter involves an enthusiastic group of gaming bloggers, a common topic within the realm of EVE Online, and a week to post articles pertaining to the said topic. The resulting articles can either be short or quite extensive, either funny or dead serious, but are always a great fun to read! Any questions about the EVE Blog Banter should be directed here . Check out other EVE Blog Banter

This month’s topic comes to us from Quintrala of Speed Fairy . She suggests to ”Write a short fiction story about the dissolution of the BoB alliance. It could be from BoB’s point of view, the Goons’, by neutrals in 0.0, civilians in Empire, NPCs or even rats. Write about before, during or after the coup; give us stories of market, war, people or love. In-character or roleplay. We want to know what happened, from those fictional characters that, in your mind, were part of it.”

And so, without further ado, I present to you my contribution. I hope you like it.

He Gave Up the Stars

His finger traced the sticky rings of some congealed spirit on the wooden bar top in front of him, as he gestured in the direction of the barman for another drink. A glass appeared on the bar as if by magic, and the barman retreated to the other end to see to another customer.

They were few and far between in this place, and he liked it like that. He’d been here so long that the locals treated him like part of the scenery, a piece of furniture in the bar they retreated to at the end of a hard day in the fields. It didn’t matter to them that he wasn’t one of them, though he might as well have been now. There were scant few left who remembered his arrival.

They lived such short, sharp lives these planet dwellers. Working their fingers to the bone in seemingly mindless drudgery. Not ignorant of the huge events that shaped their lives from far above, but not overly concerned with them. Little did they know that the silent man who occupied the threadbare stool had once directed those events, not that they would have cared. Again though, this was just the way he liked it.

That he’d once commanded fleets of thousands was nothing to them. He still remembered the sparkle of beams criss-crossing great purple and red nebulae. The explosions, the destruction, the victories and defeats. The lives of thousands thrown away with no concern for who they were or what they might have been. He was more aware of their mortality, now that he was mortal himself.

He had been destined to live forever, plugged into huge machines designed to tame the galaxy beyond this paltry little atmosphere. He had seen things that the people around him now wouldn’t have believed. Assault fleets on fire off the shoulder of a star with no name, the hum and flash of stargates, a hundred ships warping in flawless formation into battle. They would never know the visceral thrill of weaving a frigate through a sky filled with city sized carriers and dreadnoughts, or the sense of power engendered as an outpost disintegrates under lances of heat and energy.

A solitary tear fell from his cheek, in mourning for the life he’d lived and left behind. He’d given up the stars. He’d given up the freedom of microgravity for a life lived under a sky, and with good reason. He’d brought them down, his former masters. Torn their power out from under them and scattered them to the solar winds and galactic currents, and he’d done it without firing a shot.

They’d taken his loyalty for granted, piled abuse upon incompetence and expected him to remain the willing soldier, and he had decided not to stand for it any longer. The correct command into a computer console, a few choice words with a contact he’d carefully nurtured, and it was done. The end. No more would they dominate the region known as Delve among the denizens of space.

They had taken their godhood for granted and such hubris should not go unpunished, and so he punished them, in doing so, condemning himself to a life lived out in obscurity. But it was a life. One life, lived until its end, however that may come. A thing of value and rare beauty. Unlike the life of those who roamed the stars, to whom death meant nothing and life meant even less. He had given up his immortality, but would never regret it. He missed the stars however, their beauty and majesty unfiltered by the veil of atmosphere. That was something he did regret.

Glancing up he saw a stranger enter from the windblown night in the mirror behind the bar. The newcomer looked uncomfortable, ungainly, as if carrying a weight he was not used to. Not like these simple farmers with their easy, graceful, strength and gravity bred muscles. He gestured again to the barman, who nodded. “And one for my friend too,” he said as the Pilot came to the bar beside him.

“You’ve come a long way to find me son, take the weight off and have drink with an old man. Then we can see to business.” he said, handing the youth a drink.

“I know why you’re here. It was only a matter of time before you found me, though I thought you’d have been here sooner. 12 years is a long time to keep an old man waiting.”

The Pilot, in his neatly pressed and freshly laundered suit, seemed to hang his head in shame. He raised his glass, as if in salute, and downed the contents. When the coughing has subsided the old man grinned and stood. “Lets go shall we, I don’t think the local brew agrees with you and I’d like to see the stars once more before…”

He left the thing unsaid, but the Pilot nodded and stood, wiping the tears induced by harsh alcohol from his cheeks. The old man held the door open and waved to the barman. “The young man will return to pay my bill Jake. Goodbye old friend.” The Pilot nodded, the barman nodded in return, Then as the door swung shut behind them, he gathered the glasses from the cracked and stained bar top in front of him, and moved to serve someone else.

Fin.

There. I’m not going to go into any kind of dissection of what’s happening here, if my writing is any good you’ll be able to figure it out for yourself. A big thank you goes out to Quintrala for challenging us with something a little different this month. I hope this peice meets the requirements as I don’t really follow alliance politics or the events surrounding them that closely so some distance was required for it to be convincing and to ensure that I didn’t make any glaring errors.

Other participants in this month’s Blog Banter are: