10-07-2013, 05:26 AM
The original ending planned for Shinji Ikari Raising Project.... the final stop on the journey to Stellvia. Hence the big wall of text.
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
Quote:It was the stillness of it all that struck him - as if the entire dome was some sort of stasis field that kept its contents frozen in time. There was no movement to the air. The grass that grew on the soil remained still. Only the precession of the sun marked the passing of time. His own footsteps seemed almost incongruous, grass whispering under soft-soled runners. He didn't dare breath. The sounds of life seemed almost like a violation of a sanctuary. It was so different to the Valley of the Dead - so peaceful and quiet. There was no wind to roar and howl, now markerpoles to whisper and howl in the wind.________________________________
Both served different purposes, he figured. One symbolised the cold desolation of death and tragedy. One was dedicated to peace and the quiet tranquillity of repose. Memoria was a place where even his thoughts seemed too loud.
"I never liked this place," Mackie - standing beside him - ruined the silence. "It always gives me chills."
The discomfort on his face was obvious. He'd zipped up his pilot's jacket, placing his hands in his pocket.
Shinji decided not to say a word. He thought for a moment that it seemed almost sacrilegious to speak aloud. Elsewhere, Daryl and Kotono seemed to be playing 'find the famous name' on the wall - if only out of curiosity. Ford kept to herself, having known exactly where to head while Anika sat on one of the crystal benches overlooking the memorial working on her tablet.
Shinji followed a path that led him down a short flight of stairs into the memorial proper. It was a bowl with one entrance and one exit at opposite ends. The sides were cast from solid ocean- blue transparent carbon, into which rows of names had been etched so has to catch the light and gleam in what sunlight there was. They sparkled like rows upon rows of stars in an artificial sky.
At the centre, growing from the marble flagstones was a solid block of the same blue-tinted transparent carbon, faceted and cut to glow like a lantern in the sun, illuminating the entire bowl. Deep inside, staring back at him shone a single sentence
IN MEMORY OF THOSE KNOWN ONLY TO THE STARS
He was aware of hard footsteps waling up behind him.
"What happened?" he asked.
A simple question, but one he sensed would have a complicated answer.
He looked back to see Jet take a long, deep breath. Her gaze was focused on the engraving.
"We don't even know how many are missing." she said, her voice grave and soft. "We can't ever know. Ten years later, we still find the odd abandoned settlement like the Marie Celeste out in the main belt. Sometimes they just came in and took them all away and we don't even know how many where there in the first place. On the wall there, those're just the ones we know - the ones where somebody survived to remember them."
The boy felt himself grow just a little bit cold.
"When people first came up here - before my time - it was a bit of fun really. It was optimistic - it was beyond optimistic. It was a chance to have the future promised by a thousand and one science-fiction authors. It was a chance at freedom from the mundanity of Earthbound life. A candle of hope was lit - hope for a new and decent world where people would be better to each other, where we could move forward and out instead of shuffling around. And for a few years that seemed to be the case. It was us against the stars and we were winning. Right at the tail end of this is where I join in.
There were rumours of things happening - of protection rackets and the occasional kidnapping but for a long time nobody really paid them much attention. Whether it was a wilful blindness, or a naive optimism or what, I don't know - that's not for me to debate. Eventually, there came a tipping point - about the time the first catgirls were discovered, Suzimiyah decided to call an emergency convention to propose a motion to deal with the escalating criminality out in the main belt. She proposed Operation Great Justice. And everyone in their optimism agreed. The War on Crime would happen. And we, with the force of Justice and righteousness on our side would hammer the evildoers like so many Science Fiction heroes of pulps gone by. The Wave makes many impossible things possible, but that doesn't change the fact that this is the real world - and things don't always work in the real world the way they do on television.
The Boskone as we called them, were the space-based offshoot of various cartels and organised crime groups from Earth who saw the vast emptiness of space as a great place to hide their Earthbound activities. They weren't like Pulp villains - they weren't interested in the hero's girlfriend or Global Domination or such nebulous goals. They wanted nothing more than cold hard cash, and the power that went with it. They had this obscene idea of respect - and an image that depended nothing more than how brutally they responded to anything perceived as being disrespectful - as being a challenge.
The protection rackets were the start. It began as nothing more than a quiet whisper that bad things would happen if a small amount of money wasn't paid annually - nothing painful like. A tribute to the powerful from the weak.... Those that didn't pay got a nasty slap for their trouble. Loved ones were beaten up, homes and businesses wrecked - the usual. And always the promise was that if we just paid up and looked the other way they'd happily let us go on about our silly games. Eventually, they escalated to kidnappings - to torture - to making an example of the most resilient holdouts by wiping them out.
They were big on examples. These people dominated through fear and terror. And they guarded their reputations for fear and terror like a dragon guards gold. It was a game between them, to outdo one another in terror. Terror is not a bomb going off in a crowded street, or an airliner smacking into a building - true terror is the fear that you or your loved ones will be dragged into the night - into the dark places between planets where nobody goes and nobody will rescue you - never to be heard from again. The catgirling machine and its ilk were the ultimate expression.
Great Justice challenged them. And they responded the only way they knew how. They ratcheted up the terror. They banded together to fight the common enemy. They spent the next two years trying their level best to punish and beat and terrify people into quiet submission. They attacked schools. They attacked the innocent. They attacked loved-ones and families and homes. They demonstrated the bloody price of resistance over and over again. They punished settlements for siding with Great Justice - taking whole families away into the darkness while those who'd gone to fight were away.
For them it was a matter of brutal pride. Bad Things happen to the children who don't know their place and they played games trying to outdo each other on who could make the worst thing happen.
Crystal Osaka was destroyed entirely. The children of Hogwarts were taken. Then SerenityCon. All they succeeded in doing was in galvanising our desire to put a fucking end to it once and for all. We would not be trampled flowers. We would not be the passive sheep quietly turning our backs when a few from the herd vanish into the vans while thanking our stars it wasn't our turn this time.
We weren't even soldiers and we still took up arms. We ran them to ground and we brought them to justice - asteroid to asteroid. And we paid the price for that. We paid a bloody price for standing up to terror. The harder we fought, the more they ramped it up. They didn't just attack us, they attacked everything we held dear. The attacked our very selves with Berserkers and catgirling machines and nightmare biomods. I lost friends. Even ten years later I still miss people I'd known for only a few months.
I still have nightmares some nights. And I still hate them for what they did, and for what they made me do in return.
I killed people - and I don't doubt that many of people I killed weren't bad people as such. Some were scumbags in it for the money or power - they deserved it. But many - they fought because they were lethally addicted to drugs only the Boskone could supply, or because their families were being held hostage or because fighting me was less terrifying than facing their leader. In many ways, they were as much victims of the Boskone as my friends or the children of Hogwarts.
And when it was done and the dust all settled, we'd been changed completely. Instead of being a lose agglomeration of enthusiasts, we were a true society, bonded together. We're all in it together - no matter what we believe or where we come from. And we'd set ourselves apart from the world below. The Convention became a solid thing.
But that fear is still there. That sense of terror still eats away. Some might repeat Eisenhower's words about weapons being a theft from the hungry but - as much as I'm required to say they're right - I can't help but worry that a box of food will do little to keep me and my loved ones safe should the remnants of the Boskone ever come back. I can't help but feel afraid when the lights trip out, or when an unknown ship shifts course towards us. I can't help but remember what my profession is.
I know I'm not the only one. The fact that Survival Shot is still in business is proof. So's the size of the arms fair at every Convention. It's a wound on us all. It'll grow smaller with time - but never truly heal.
I don't ever think we did the wrong thing. I don't think we made the wrong decision. We had to stand up for ourselves and for our ideals, or they wouldn't have been worth the paper they were written on. We're wounded, but we're still standing. We're still here, And we haven't destroyed our ideals in the process of saving them either.
I suppose, I just wish it hadn't been this expensive is all."
Shinji didn't say a word - waiting until she finished.
He watched the anger simmer deep inside her, and then the moment when he thought she would actually start to cry. He could see her eyes scan across the glass and wondered if she was looking for names that she new. He found himself wondering what he would've done if given the chance. Exactly what was expected of him, was the response from deep inside He found part of himself wanting to ask for more information - but that'd be rude. It was a morbid curiosity - the desire to know things he'd wish he hadn't learned afterwards. On the other hand - it was nothing compared to Second Impact. It was tiny in comparison to the overwhelming size of the Valley of Death. He felt his skin prickle with shame.
"I'm sorry," Shinji mumbled to his feet.
"Don't be," said Jet, "That's why this place exists. It's not a place of honour or a hall of heroes. It's a reminder of the price we paid - and how valuable that decency and goodness is and how important it is that we still keep to it - that we don't allow ourselves to give in or become what we fought against. We don't allow ourselves to become that which we fought against."
The cyber crouched down to his level, placing a heavy metal hand on his shoulder. He could see a spark of light in her blue eyes that gave truth to
"I think, Shinji, you're the proof of that. The common decency and optimism and good that we wanted to keep still lives. The candle still burns and everything we did was truly and completely worth doing."
He looked away from her at the walls and the two women picking out names. He watched Ford brush her fingers against one. "So. Everyone who came to see me?"
She confirmed his worst fears with a single nod, standing herself back up, turning her gaze back towards the memorial. "They know people on these walls. But that isn't why the came either. They came because it was the right thing to do."
He glanced back at her. "I thought...."
"What?"
"Nothing.....it never even happened." He shook it off. Her expression seemed to insist, forcing him to look away. Shinji inhaled a deep breath "I wondered what I'd do. What I would've done. It's silly I know but. I just thought of something Misato said to me, that's all." He suppressed an involuntary shudder, swallowing the taste of blood in his mouth. "I can't live on the suffering of others. I thought that'd mean I wouldn't be able to kill - or fight, but then if I didn't would I be just as responsible for the consequences of that decision."
She gave him a soft nod. "All I can say is, I think we all felt the same way, one way or another."
He pressed his hands together "I just wish I could've been there to do something to stop it, I guess."
Again, she smiled wryly at him. "If you feel that way, Ben's offer still stands."
The image that called up to his mind almost made him laugh.
"Ah... No." A nervous thrill rushed through his body. That hadn't been what he'd meant at all. "It'd be too awkward with Asuka - am - Gina." He swallowed uncomfortably, unintentionally proving he was telling the truth.
Jet looked away from him again, glancing at Mackie who was peering over Anika's shoulder at her tablet screen. She inhaled a slow breath, a soft sadness washing across her face for a moment
"I might not have been the best parent or builder, but I thought the least I could do was show you the value of decency. All you have to do is remember that."
"I'll try," he said, nodding softly. That was all he thought he could say.
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?