Against A Rock

by Kalin Ringkvist

  But the moment she had control, she realized she had made a mistake. She could not afford to start a fight here and needed to give the weapon back without revealing her stupidity or fear.

  “You want this?” she asked. And she flipped the weapon in her hand and tossed it through the airlock into the office beyond. “Go get it!”

  Floreina began kicking at her pressure suit, tugging at its material to drag her body from its clutches. She clawed her way across the floor, ignoring the Minmatar, moaning lightly as the suit grated against her thigh. She dragged her leg from the hot enclosure and finally slumped to the floor to rest her face against the patterns of steel inlays.

  Did it matter at this point?… did any of this matter?… it was all too ridiculous to wrap her brain around so all she could do was decide that it didn’t matter anymore…

  She cried, the sobs jittering up her body like bubbles from the bottom of a boiling pot. And she ignored the other Minmatar. It simply didn’t matter if they were drawing their weapons, and it didn’t matter if they saw her in this state.

  So Floreina closed her eyes and let herself cry, and as sad as she felt and as humiliating and shameful as this had been, somehow… somehow… it did not feel bad. God still guided her on a story… a plotline… a character study…

  But real life wasn’t like a story in a book. Stories are toned down, emotions simplified and glossed over. In real life people scream and cry incoherently, sweat and slobber dripping from their chin, spew death threats, throw hard objects… and then fall sobbing into each others arms pleading for forgiveness and professing their undying love.

  That’s real life…

  You never see that in a story… because no one would believe it… it would be cliché and unbelievable…

  But that’s the way we feel about real life… sometimes we just don’t believe that it actually happened… surreal… like it all came from some dramatic fantasy story…

  And if we capture that perfect perspective that allows us to ride that wave of ups and downs like it were some great fantasy of romance and tragedy… we can learn to see God in everything, from terrorizing acts of torture and senseless murder, to the most beautiful landscapes and furry creatures. It’s all a tapestry, and if we learn to accept the bad with the good, we can truly become one with God and His great plan.

  So Floreina let herself cry, knowing He would not allow the Minmatar to harm her in her time of experiencing herself.

  Her head rested on the cold silvery metallic floor of the Blackbird’s main airlock, and her eyes opened only occasionally to examine the blurry topography of the textured surface.

  And after a time she came to realize that nothing had happened. The Minmatar were leaving her alone on the floor. Whether or not they were all standing around pointing weapons at her, was a question that finally seemed relevant enough to look up for.

  The abolitionists were there, standing tall above her, staring curiously at her sobbing and defeated form; but they held no weapons. She wiped tears from her eyes and allowed her vision to become clear.

  “Do you need a hand?” asked the closest Minmatar.

  Floreina grunted as she pushed off the last of her pressure suit. She dropped the material to the floor as the abolitionist held out his hand for her. Floreina hesitated only a moment before taking it and allowing him to pull her easily to her feet, kicking the bottom half of the suit out from under her as she came.

  “Floreina,” he said, “I am lieutenant Flin. I’m here to escort you to sick-bay.”

  “I want to talk to my—Mahran,” said Floreina.

  “That’ll take a few minutes,” replied Flin. “The captain is discussing things with him.”

  “Attempting to brainwash him?” she asked.

  “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “Good luck with that,” Floreina snorted.

  He shrugged. “Will you come with me, please, Miss Floreina?”

  She nodded, and began limping along side him, toward the exit. “Your doc doesn’t happen to have a replacement power supply that can fit my implant… and the skill to install it?”

  “I believe that he does,” Flin answered.

  Floreina’s eyes and chin shot upward in surprise to look at the lieutenant, and she smiled warmly.

  “The doc’s even Amarrian,” continued Flin with a light hearted chuckle. “To indulge your ethnocentric preferences…”

  “Why would you have a surgeon of that caliber aboard a cruiser like this?” Floreina asked.

  “Why wouldn’t we?” Flin replied as they began moving down the corridor. “Only a fool would come to a capsuleer mutiny without a qualified neuro-surgeon.”

  “Hmm,” she replied.

  “By the way… I like your tattoo,” Flin told her, motioning toward her exposed thigh, flipping a sly smile.

  Floreina ignored the comment, but absently touched the wounds with the tip of a finger, wincing only slightly, and smelled the rancid scent of the recovery as she limped beside the Minmatar terrorist.

  “So… are you going to be ready to help lead a real assault against The Angel?” asked Flin.

  Floreina shook her head. “I don’t think I can do this anymore,” she replied. “This whole plan was based on the idea that I would get in without anyone knowing or getting hurt… at this point I should be getting connections infused into my skin and Allihence should be a corpse on the floor and the crew should still be oblivious… but that’s not how it worked out… and if I go back… and even if somehow we succeed, then still, everyone will know… unless we slaughter every one of my people on board… and even then, who knows what the variables are after everything that’s happened… I just don’t think I can go on…”

  “Fair enough,” Flin replied. “What about your buddy, Mahran?”

  And Floreina gently rubbed her temples and watched the floor in front of her. “Poor Mahran,” she whispered.

  “Hmm…” replied Flin.

  They arrived at the sick-bay and the doctor almost immediately turned from his readout terminal on the other side of the room to come to her attention.

  “This is doctor Stephson, Floreina…” said the lieutenant. “I think I can trust you to hand you off to him at this point, so I’ll leave you and get back to other issues… Marteen will be in here shortly to discuss some matters with you.”

  “Thank you, Flin,” Floreina replied, nodding as she hopped up to sit on an exam table.

  “Will probably need to get those pants off,” the doctor told her. “We need to get those burns cleaned.”

  “Are you the neuro-surgeon?” Floreina asked, turning toward the doctor. “Can we begin on my implant first?”

  “I have orders to treat your other injuries first,” replied Doctor Stephson. “The fleet commander wishes to speak with you about a couple issues before allowing me to get too far in the restoration process.”

  “Alright,” Floreina sighed, hopping down to carefully strip off her pants, feeling the cool breeze on her bare skin, and noticed the distinct refreshment of pulling off sweaty and blood stained clothing.

  Stephson knelt before her to wipe away the grime from her thigh with a damp towel. “Ah, yes,” he commented absently. “‘Traitor’… it’s healing up nicely. Good lettering actually; must have had a steady hand… or you know how to keep your leg still whilst being tortured.”

  “I’m quite sure I’ll get it removed,” Floreina grunted.

  “Nice souvenir; might want to consider keeping it a while…” The doctor placed a thin wrap across the burn and connected the material to wires that stretched to a tiny nanite control device to allow him to scan the damaged tissue and precisely control functionality of the nanites crawling from the cloth-like material to burrow into her leg for more deep cleaning. Floreina sighed pleasantly, this time feeling merely a tingle as the robots did their duty.

  “So what made you join the abolitionists?” Floreina asked, hoping her voice did not carry the telltale mark of condemnation.


  “I like freedom,” he replied. “And they give me a steady paycheck.”

  “That’s it?” she replied.

  “What made you become a gunnery tech?” he countered.

  “Because I Love the Lord and my country… because I believe in the Amarrian Empire… because there are a lot of lost souls out there that need saving… because I believe in experiencing everything that God has given us in New Eden and wish to bring glory to Him… because I want to do something for my people… and because I want to do the right thing.”

  “Hmm…” the doctor nodded.

  “And you chose your career for the money…”

  Stephson paused. “I chose to be a doctor because I prefer helping people over killing them… and I work with these gentlemen because I believe that slavery is wrong…” The doctor paused and looked up from between her legs. “We’re all just people here in New Eden. Even the Jovians are human in their hearts and in the core of their DNA. You can take blood from a Minmatar and put it in a Caldari, a Gallente, and even an Amarr. We’re all from the same blood, the same DNA and the same God.”

  “What difference does that make?” Floreina asked. “God and evolution can change a lot of things.”

  “It shows that they have a spiritual right to basic human freedom.”

  “And I believe Caldari factory workers have a right to basic healthcare and clean drinking water, but we don’t always get what we want.”

  “The factory workers are free to leave—“

  “That’s a joke,” she said. “They have the illusion of freedom. They have no money, no food, no savings, no means to better their lives. Trillions of third-world factory workers who would kill to have the life of the typical Amarr slave. The only difference between the Caldari, capitalistic industrial empire and the Amarrian system is that we’re honest about the status of our subjects. God expects and demands us to care for them and treat them with decency and respect, while the holy incarnation of capitalism offers little or no motivation for the wealthy to support common human decency.”

  The doctor sighed lightly. “I see your point, and I won’t defend all the consequences of capitalism in New Eden or the greed of certain individuals, but you can’t use the wrongs of others to justify your own.”

  “Eden is the way it is… we’re all just people, Doc, trying to be the best we can be in an imperfect world… and we all have… systems… political, spiritual and social systems within which we must work.”

  Stephson sighed again, the sound blending slowly into a light chuckle. “Well, I’m under orders not to argue with you, Commander.”

  “Yes…” replied Floreina. “That’s probably best… but I’m curious, being an Amarrian, about your perspectives… how you could come to betray our people…”

  “Now, come on,” Stephson replied, drooping his head. “I just don’t go for the whole race thing, and I’ve never felt truly Amarrian as I’ve never felt Amarria cared much for my point of view… so many people don’t understand… even the abolitionists I work for… but I’ve found that my people are all the people of New Eden, and not just one race…”

  “Then you can’t see the differences… you can’t see the destruction and depravity that the Minmatar have brought to this universe. I work with Minmatar everyday—“

  “—so do I—“

  “And I see what they’re like, their confusion, their fear, their inability to make decisions on their own, their notorious criminal behavior—thievery, lying. Do you think it’s a coincidence that escaped Minmatar slaves have some of the highest crime rates of any social group?”

  “Because of the slavery,” the doctor retorted with a friendly smile as he finished the process on her leg, peeling the wrappings off one by one. “It’s basic human psychology. The degradation and humiliation of being stripped of your freedom and treated as property can tear apart a human’s moral integrity.”

  “Ah… you’re going to try that old argument on me?” Floreina laughed. “If there were any truth to that statement, then you would need to say the same thing about criminal justice. Prisoners are treated just as inhumanely as any slave—more so because they have no spiritual purpose.”

  “You’re talking about criminals—“

  “The Minmatar are criminals spiritually… besides, your argument doesn’t care if they’re criminals. Degradation is degradation, and human psychology is human psychology regardless of a crime. If we say slavery causes anti-social behavior in Minmatar, then we need to say that prisons cause antisocial behavior in criminals.”

  “Commander, I don’t need to get into an argument with you…”

  “You’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry…” If he had been anything other than an Amarrian, she would not have cared of his opinions; but to speak with an Amarrian abolitionist was a unique experience.

  “Okay,” said Stephson, “we’re just about ready to take a look at that power supply. How’s your leg feeling?”

  “Better. Thank you.”

  “You should be nice and mobile in time for the attack.”

  “Attack?” she asked.

  “Of course,” Stephson replied just as they both looked up to see the lead abolitionist, Marteen enter the office. Two large Minmatar security officers followed behind.

  “Floreina,” Marteen greeted. “We have business to attend to… we need you and your implant up and running, so Doctor Stephson, please continue your work.”

  “When can I talk to Mahran?” Floreina asked.

  “In a few minutes,” Marteen replied. “We’re discussing some issues with him at the moment.”

  Floreina closed her legs involuntarily as the Minmatar approached, but relaxed a moment later, as technically it shouldn’t be any more embarrassing than being seen by a cat or a horse.

  And Marteen didn’t seem to care as he continued, “We’re going to be boarding and taking over The Angel in about forty minutes, and I expect you to be there with us, and I expect some quality input.”

  “Excuse me?” Floreina said. “If you dock and invade, you’re going to slaughter my people.”

  Marteen absently picked his fingernails as he said, “Kind of like how you slaughter my people…”

  She sighed as she rolled over to allow the doctor access to the connection at the back of her head. “I can’t do it… I know I have no means to stop you… and if you do, I pray that you successfully free my Mahran… and I won’t blame you for stealing our Minmatar… but I can’t be a party to the slaughter of my shipmates…”

  “Hmm…” responded Marteen melodically from behind her. “Okay, that’s fair.” He paused only momentarily. “Stop working, Stephson. Guards, go ahead and escort miss Floreina to the brig. Be sure she gets a shower and some clean clothes, a copy of The Scriptures, some time to pray and an appropriate final meal before her termination.”

  “Aye sir,” replied one of the guards.

  Floreina looked up, rolling halfway to her side to see Marteen abruptly twisting on his heel to head out the door. The guards approached, motioning to her, silently asking for her cooperation.

  “Marteen,” she said, “we were supposed to be allies in this. Have some decency. You have nothing to gain by hurting me…”

  He stopped as the guards came to stand on either side of Floreina, herding the doctor toward his work station. “I’m sorry,” Marteen replied. “You’ve seen too much of our procedures and tactics… and we are opposed to the things that motivate you…”

  “Just like that?”

  “I hope you can understand… This isn’t out of maliciousness or hatred toward you or your people, it’s a simple, practical necessity. You knew coming into this that you were going to end the day in either a capsuleer pod or a coffin. Those have always been the only two options for you, Floreina. You understood the risks when you began.”

  “Do you need me to say it?” Floreina asked.

  “Say what?”

  “What you should know that I’m about to say.�
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  “There’s no shame here. Say it.”

  “This cold-hearted action of yours is proof that everything Amarrians believe regarding your species is completely true, and it should be obvious that everything we do is justified.”

  Marteen simply nodded calmly and looked back at her, in that typical Minmatar manner of staring straight through common logic to the beauty of a self-serving delusion. “We are enemies in a war, Floreina.” And he turned slowly away.

  “But you would still help me gain capsuleer status?” she asked.

  He stopped again and turned back, now clearly playing a game. “That was our original agreement, and that was our plan until thirty seconds ago.”

  “You can deal with me in a pod, but not as a regular mortal?”

  He nodded. “That’s correct… we have certain plans we have not discussed with you… to keep you in line… to be certain you pay your dues… to be certain you do not continue keeping slaves… we have certain connections within CONCORD that we can use to keep you in check and to profit from your presence as a capsuleer… exploit you in various ways… a little blackmail and such… just enough to make certain you never turn against us.”

  “I see…” Floreina replied with a sigh. “Okay, then. I guess you win. Let’s do it.”

  “Good good. I’m glad to hear it. Doctor Stephson, can you get her implant booted up?”

  “Most likely,” the doctor replied. “I’ll refill her personal drug supply also. We don’t have time to hook up your peripherals, Floreina, so you won’t have your remote transmitter or external video, but everything else should come back on with a normal boot up.”

  “Excellent,” said Marteen. “Get on it. Floreina, the guards will escort you to the war room as soon as your implant begins its boot cycle.”

  “I have trouble walking during the initial bootup—“

  “Then they will carry you,” the Minmatar replied as he turned one final time. “You’ve wasted enough of our time, Floreina, and I don’t wish to waste any more.”