Warning, this post is also very long and doesn't involve any other factions. This is entirely establishing the faction where it is, and wrapping up previous story-lines, while introducing characters. Fleet movements and interactions with other factions happen in the next post.
IC:
2133
Vitas Lake, "Birthland"
Nidus, Nidus System
"I am"
"I am willing"
"I am"
"I am"
"Willing"
"To die"
"To die for"
"The People"
"My People"
"Any People"
"Sentient Life"
"Mammals"
"Life with Spines"
"Animals"
The voices echoed through, played from the various hidden speakers all around, each of them planted in a grave. The rows of gravestones went on and on as far as the eye could see, with no spacing between them, gravestone to gravestone. The rows were exactly six foot six apart, no more space was given, no less. Above all of this was an arcology, which kept the elements out, but let the sunlight in after it passed some shielding. It was a wide open space, where the sun poured down, but the rain were kept out, and below it a concrete foundation was poured and then ten feet of dirt and compost.
Standing there among the tombs was a large crowd, as many as could fit and still see the graves, and there were many many graves. There were more archologies and more, a semi-sphere bubble over each mass grave, over each painful reminder of who they were. People stood there, lightskinned, darkskinned, random skin depending on the roll of a dice. Men, women, neither, both, one and then the other. Young, old, in between. Rich, middle class, middle class…middle class.
Upon each back of each citizen and soon to be citizen was a rifle, an automatic personal defense weapon, an automatic shotgun. There was little children of barely 12 with small pinkers on them, tied to their backs, safeties' on.
There was crying, lots of crying. The ground began to grow wet here and there with tears. Without warning they did what they always did. They did what they were born to do, what they were programmed to do, what the virus said to do. Hundreds of years passed and nothing changed, a large heap of bodies, and the same tears, the same rhythm.
Stomp
Stomp
Stomp, Stomp, Chest Beat
Stomp
Stomp
Stomp, Stomp, Chest Beat
"Before I was born…. We made a collection of mass graves like this, but we never had time to finish them and most of the bodies were never recovered. Millions of people died, soldiers and civilians, horrible things were done in all."
The synthetic avatar breathed out, mimicking the actions or commands of a man thousands of miles away, being kept alive with tubes. It's face was adorned in scars, it's eyes had pupils that were purple, and it stood there in a copy of a military uniform that left service long ago. It's metal and plastic hands clutching two little rolled up pieces of paper, which were burning, burning with nothing inside but filler. One was between the pointing finger and the thumb, the other roll between the little finger and ring finger.
"And my Godfather stood in a uniform like this, chain-smoking hemp like this, and he stared at all of the graves. He stared at all the graves and he said something about how progress was coming, progress was destined, nothing would ever stop progress from coming to pass."
Thousands of miles away, a crippled and barely held together body opened its eyes, staring off into space for a few seconds. Hearts were replaceable, eyes were replaceable, limbs, veins, spines and all were replaceable. Despite that, his power came from his body, drawing power from his spirit. The spirit that took the will and drive of others, sucked it in, and then dolled it back out at two or tenfold. Half a tear, maybe less ran down one eye, that was all he had to cry out.
"And he pointed at the bodies and then at his watch. He said that it would take millions and millions of bodies more, and decades and decades for the world to ever change. He said that it would be so bloody that every day would be a struggle and there would always be another fight, another problem, and he was right."
The eyes couldn't be open that much more longer, so they closed, already stinking in pain. Drops were dispensed over them and he blinked a few times, trying to wet his eyes again.
"We were so angry, so bitter, so hateful for decades after he gave that speech. Any problem that was to be had was our problem, and so we had one of the highest morality rates by combat of any first world nation. Every day was a revolution, every day was screaming and shaking of the fist, of glaring out as tears ran down our faces. We died and were born again, over and over, just like we always do, just like we always will."
The eyes sprang back open, crying another half tear, while he stared out at the large room full of padding and screens, and wires, and cooling vents, and heating vents. This big, huge complex deep underground just to keep him comfortable enough to do what he did.
"And I am so painfully aware that there has been so many speeches, and we have been doing this for so long, and that I am a very old man. So the only thing I can tell you, and I don't know if I sound like treating you like you are slow, or clueless…. Is that those…..heroes…those martyrs.. were the best equipped they could be, to do what they did. Their souls were forged to be true, their brains modeled to be humble, and their bodies to be strong. Those…Wonderful…Glorious People…Those… Sacred…Beings… They wanted to live and live well so much, but they wanted even more badly to resolve the deep pain in their hearts."
"The pain of having living in plenty, in health, in wealth, with little space, but all the entertainment, and the love. They were accepted for being freaks, and lost souls, and sticks in the mud, and quiet people with nothing exciting to say. They looked at what they had and looked at what others had, and they felt disgusted by that. The generations before were content to eat cooked rat in a bomb shelter deep underground clutching a crying infant, with the little sibling pointing a gun at the door."
His eyes had to be remoistened and he had to blink many times, so he finally closed his eyes, and he looked out at them with the avatar, the extension of his will.
"So they looked in the mirror and said to themselves, why do I deserve to have all of this, what've I done? Do not say these words yourselves children… but I know what they said. They said to me 'What the fuck, have I done to deserve all of this shit?' And when I told them that they were likely going to go off to be mentally scarred and physically wounded, with odds being towards survival, but with tens of millions likely to die… For organisms that were only half flesh and didn't understand emotions for the most part, nor why were so pissed off that a billion of them were genocided away… I was told "Fuck those parasites, I don't give a fuck if they massacured apes, I don't give a fuck if they were one percent apes and 99% metal bobs. I don't give a fuck how self-aware they were, what matters to me, is that they did something unspeakable cruel to something with nerves and now something has to be done.'
Three Months Earlier
Heartship 3, "Greater Good"
"Atrocity" System
"Comrade....Admiral?" His eyes stared out at her, as he uttered the words. "Why have you summoned me?"
Before him was a young child, not even 14. Her eyes were closed and she sat with her legs in a tailor position, crissed and crossed. One of her hands rested on her knee, the other on another knee, but that second hand opened up to gesture him over. Four fingers moved away from her and towards her again, over and over, urging him to come over to her.
"Come here Comrade, come sit with me."
He slowly and carefully sat down, watching her, managing to copy her position. Breathing out slowly and blinking a few times, his eyes remained locked on her eyelids.
"You wanted to tell me something?" His body found itself involuntarily narrowing his brows and tilting his head, it was a habit. His face was tightened up, however, and he found himself looking down closed eyes, trying to relax his breathing. Images flashed in his mind and he opened his eyes to not see them.
"I know you have been having trouble sleeping."
"I have...had trouble closing my eyes...It's very bad... Therapy isn't helping."
"I know. I know." Her eyes opened to look back at him and she gave a faint smile, before offering out her palms. "You and I didn't choose to be born, or choose our people, but it wasn't others who got us to sacrifice. It isn't fair that you and I have suffered, but it's unfair that others who are not prepared to suffer end up suffering if we do nothing. Do you agree with this?"
"I do, the innocent have no right to suffer, and despite how awful...our lives are... At least we choose this... Or.. Pretend to choose it."
"Take my hands, place your palms over my own."
He placed his course and bandaged hands over her own, looking out to her hands, watching her wrap her fingers around his own. Looking up at her, he blinked a few times, his face giving little away. She read him regardless.
"Recently, one of our brothers has been gravely wounded in a very spontaneous and gravely fiendish attack. Till he recovers I've had to look around for people like him, to see if I could perhaps train a few pupils. Are you comfortable learning from someone younger?"
"My faith is absolute, I will follow you to anywhere you lead me." He bit his lip and looked over her face, seeing the glowing veins. "I have lost so much, and I hope that perhaps you might help me heal."
"I know that you have lost a lot of people, that you hold a very passionate hatred in your heart, over the pain and loss you feel. I know you used to feel a very powerful bond and the breaking of that bond radiates a toxic fury into you."
"Yes, I need them back. I need them... We had something... We were Comrades... We were brothers and sisters... They completed me...."
"I can help you find the path to using this pain and loss you have, and turning it into a radiant source of power. I can help you channel that power and together we will do what we can to make our surroundings better for life in general. If... If you agree... ... If... Just sing the national anthem of Vadia."
"Not the Prole Confederation?" His head tilted and he looked out at her, his mouth a little open in surprise.
"The two songs are very much alike, but I personally know that Vadia's will be fitting for the beginning of your covenant."
Closing his eyes and resting his head down, he breathed in, trying to relax himself. His singing voice wasn't much, and it was hard to focus, but he muttered up what he could.
"There's no difference between you and me. We all want to live, but it's freedom we seek. Together we are strong, but apart we are weak. There's no difference between you and me. Darkness comes from, without and within, stand your ground, cit-ti-zens. It's not about you.... being right, it's about.. right being you, stand and fight. There's different between you and me. Rise up brothers and sisters, it's our destiny. Stand humble, but praise any Comrade. When you are hurt, I shall also be sad. There is no difference between you and me. If you are oppressed, I am not truly free. My rifle is loaded, I'll watch, you sleep. Let us live in the same house, and eat the same sheep. There is no difference, we just we. There is no difference, and that is what...I see."
He opened his eyes and they seemed a bit more wet then they normally were, but he shrugged it off. Huffing out to her, he saw that she was smiling softly to him.
"You are ready." She said triumphantly, standing slowly and watching him stand with her, "I am eager to start, so that I may know you well and may learn from my new pupil, just as you will learn from me. Let us go and break bread, and begin the lessons.