Time Enough for Sunsets

Posted on Sun 8th May, 2022 @ 7:30pm by Lieutenant Pampo Gnu

2,372 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: A Good Day to Hunt
Location: Acamar
Timeline: Six months ago from MD1 (A Good Day to Hunt)

-Start-

[Begin Personal Log: Pampo Lat-OK]

The Lornak have decided to listen, it has been a good day! Nascent Tralesta clan have finally gathered, still only hundreds of them in all the galaxy but bravely gathering and piecing something of their old lives together here in their ancestral once abandoned homes. Similarly the Lornak who faced extinction are embracing the Tralesta in a gesture of union building for a common future. The Acamarian application process to the Federation may be within grasp, but outlying elements in the Tralesta community who still hold these Lornak responsible for the Tralesta Massacre have surrounded the Great Hall. With so few people, I worry any conflicts would bring unacceptable loss and casualty. I am struck with the balance of keeping the peace which was just made, but placating those who fear it.

[End Log]

{Great Hall of the Lornak Clan}

He was bluster, he was focus, he knew the peace would be broken the moment his words failed to smoothly fall into willing vessels. Inside the room, a peace treaty was signed, committing one another in a new name and common defense. Almost a thousand people in all listened, but another group was outside. All of them in the settlement had come at this point, mixed of what remained and the orphans of two clans who had nearly annihilated one another in centuries of warfare. Pampo stood over the assembly inside, a curious overlay of modern technology and ancient ruin granting a surreal experience as he spoke on the necessity of remembering history.

"...We must embrace the future, do you know that it is Tralestan grass we stand on, or Lornak air we breathe? We tell ourselves it belongs to us, but really, the world cares not. Have not the rains spread the water to all the leaves that receive them? Does not the sun shine for all upon the rising day?"

His voice carried over the din of protests outside as well, where an equal number raged in opposition. Hardly a thousand scraped together, many of whom hardly remember the conflict they had emerged from now dedicated to reliving it. There were enough people to wipe out this progress, it would take a miracle to keep the mob outside from breaking in. Only the equal pressure of people inside who had come to sign the peace accord held the line at the building perimeter. His words kept the ones inside calm, but the outside was held at bay with diminishing returns.

"... for the sakes of your children, mothers and fathers remove them from this sight! For you are a single people, the revels which have divided you are long gone, today you are here because of your passion, use that to rebuild! Use this energy to build something for tomorrow, rather than tear us down. Must every brick be rendered to dust before the bloodlust is slated? Even in your hatred, you show unity, as Tralestan and Lornak stand side by side to declare this peace treaty illegal."

He heard the confusion spread as the poor confused people realized what he said was true. They stood together to mark their history of fighting and press on. The energy of the crowd outside dimmed, Pampo pressed it forward, "Moments like this are what shapes societies for generations...." He heard a specific comment and smoothly pivoted to it, ..." Please I am not advocating your world for Federation membership, I am but a servant to the needs of others. Your two peoples deserve a chance to rebuild, but it can't happen if you tear what little remains down."

His voice was hoarse, hours of yelling had seen the crowds grow larger, but so long as they stayed the same size neither would make a move, he had been trying to vent the pressure safely, the results finally bearing out.

=/\= Pampo, you've got the whole settlement at the great hall... do we need to send anyone down?

His escort ship, the Santa Ana hailed him, and in a rush as fast as he could speak he replied,

=/\= DO NOT send anyone in a uniform down for gods sake!

The break in his cadence was enough for a loud cry, "Never Forget!"

Quite a few people chanted it immediately, "Never Forget!"

The Tralestans had been massacred by the Lornak long ago, the racial memory embedded in scars so deep they had not yet healed. The peace felt broken but Pampo felt the threads of real unity coming together as well. Both states existed, and he could still influence this to go either way. He needed a grand gesture, his eyes and heart scanned the room, searching for anything he could use.

As the outer cordon fell, the two mobs clashed at the main entrance. Security officials immediately closed the other doors, but the group outside wasn't beating on the doors to get in. This wasn't an unruly mob, it was a crowd of people with energy that needed something to show them not to be afraid.

Pampo rallied, his voice haorse but the lower registers still worked. He boomed out in operatic glory, "Do these few speak for so many? Look around, we are not savage, we are not fighting, the ones who are, have only showed they lack conviction to speak their minds and face argument. Look at them, show your children the face of those who resort to violence as their first recourse. Should we not exhaust all other venues of dialogue, who here wants more fighting, who here wants a safe city to raise their family and enjoy their life?"

The clashing had gotten serious, a small group from the outside was wearing some form of home made combat gear, and wore a militia banner on their arm of the old wars. It was clear they were carrying the banner of past conflicts, reviving the animosity. No words would ever reach them, and their presence was poison. The grand gesture was laid before him, if he could stop those men, without hurting them or anyone else, this crowd would unite and this peace would be binding.

"No weapons, only peace!" a chant began, the beginnings of the path he had just forecast. Any moment one of those militia members would open fire though, it was the critical moment.

Pampo closed his eyes, dedicating his tremendous willpower to the psychic projection centers of his brain. This process was a huge shock to his Central Nervous system and brought with it heavy tolls for Pampo. Most Halanans unconsciously project their psychic selves when they sleep or are in prolonged restful states, Pampo could bring them about consciously using a few cybernetic enhancements to his brain. He had to take a seat, the exhaustion and toll already mounting just for the effort on his own.

As soon as Pampo started time slipped and HOB stood before him, with the missing time of a few seconds sacrificed to its creation. Whereas Pampo was a large man but well dressed and manicured, HOB was muscular, ragged, and had a wild look. They looked like brothers, but with one of them raised by wolves, wearing the same clothes, but disheveled. HOB blinked, feeling his form again, existence coming in fits and leaps for him whenever Pampo manifested him. The next two hours or so, HOB was free to do as he wished, could even travel a few kilometers before risking his existence by distance from Pampo. However, he also knew everything Pampo knew, and in this case HOB got the mission plan right away.

"Move now!"

HOB parted the crowd, many of them doing a double take at Pampo, wondering what their eyes were telling them. HOB seemed bigger and far more dangerous than his doppelganger, a Klingon in gentleman's socks. HOB moved quickly to arrive at the melee, where four beleaguered officers held a rapidly deteriorating door battered under the militia members assault. HOB noted the men used blunt objects to beat the officers in their head, one officer had lost their helmet, blood was flowing freely from head wound.

"I've got it, secure the doors fellas."

HOB spoke to all four, who gaped wide eyed as the large man braced his whole body against the double doors. The rain of blows pattering on a Non-Lorentzian quantized locally coupled photonic density state to no ill effect.

This was the hardest thing to do, to create HOB and then continue doing stuff without a nap. Pampo felt the migraine of a lifetime clamping his head as he spoke again,

"I cannot do it for you, but I can give us a few more minutes to try. You, all of you must decide if this peace is real, and ask yourself if the whims of the militia dictate terms to all of you. They want this to be a melee, so now you all must resist that urge to fight back and instead embrace them. Remove those things they fear by addressing them. Tell them you love them, tell them you will remember their ancestors, tell them they will have a place to raise little ones. This fight must be over, it can be over, but that is up to you!"

The Santa Ana called again, =/\=Pampo we need to pull you out!

Pampo slapped the badge, every movement felt like it was through sludge and burned his brain for the effort.

=/\= Negative, I've got them where I want them, on my mark beam down a food replicator, audio synthesizer and pipe in Alexy's party house number 5 playlist."

HOB was having trouble, the doors were being wrenched and warped out of frame, two dozen militia did what they could to open it but chains and dedication did it. Pulling outwards, HOB was left the sole defender in the doorway once the doors were ripped away. HOB lowered his hands, palm facing forward, a plaintive sign of non violent intent. Behind him, a thousand resolute citizens stepped up. The Militia only took a single step forward when an object was thrown at them, from the crowd outside they had come from.

Suddenly both sides of the crowd had a new chant, "Gatherers go home." Those who wore the militia garb were now the outcasts, and their dozens paled to numbers now surrounding them. A bottle was thrown, and it was well thrown but HOB caught it, looking at the confused young man with intensity. HOB dropped the bottle, and the young man backed up. The others were similarly aware of the change in tenor and backed away.

"No, they are your brothers and sisters too. Food for all, embrace a common future!"

Pampo's voice still carried, the man had a speaker in his throat it seemed, but the violence stopped and when it was obvious the whole crowd had become focused on them, several Gatherers stripped their combat gear right off, one of them even going to the waiting arms of a family member who jumped and kissed his face in joy.

"Yes, Embrace them, we are not here for violence, play music, celebrate our new found friends and a new everlasting peace."

=/\= Santa Ana, send it down!

An engineer in a simple civilian garb accompanied a large silver case. The mystery was affecting the calm of the crowd severely, so Pampo hoped the man would hurry. The young Human set up a simple unfolding table where the speakers and interface were set out. Once all items were in place, he pressed a button and thrilling music washed over the crowd. The gathered people had an immediate response to it, they laughed in relief. HOB left his post, hulking over the young man as a presence to keep everyone calm. Another sparkle saw the Food replicator appear, and the young man started pulling trays of fruits and meats out of it, people grabbing them from the machine itself with little hesitation.

Pampo collapsed into a chair, barely able to keep awake. Breathing deeply, and staying silent helped him deal, and slowly he felt his vitals return. After a few moment of catching his breath he looked at them, one crowd, having an impromptu block party. The militia would have a hard time recruiting since there was no injustice today. He couldn't see a single member wearing a jacket or gear. The peace they signed today might actually hold this time, even if just for a few years, it was progress even to have this.

=/\= Santa Ana, send down the bureaucrats, and B-team. One to beam up, straight to my quarters if you dont mind.

=/\= Sorry sir its against regs.

Pampo smiled, she must not know him, =/\= Deary, I am 110 kg, and I cannot stand right now. If you plan to carry or lift me, I suggest a gurney.

=/\=Stand by... permission granted, sorry sir. Site to Site activated.

Pampo dissolved into component lights, as others beamed down to begin securing the new peace. HOB had begun a game of balance with another big male, slapping hands while on tip toes to throw the other one off balance. The big man lost as he stepped forward since HOB vanished in an instant. With confusion he grunted, deciding aliens cheated and that was not fair.


[Begin Log: Pampo Lat-oK ]

I've had enough of the close calls lately, this one was a burden I very nearly couldn't bear. The Acamarian High Command acknowledges our efforts in unifying their warring clans, but refuses to commit resources to their worlds. The militias and remnant "Gatherer" groups are only emboldened by this. Despite our attempts here today, without intramural support it is inevitable that the same lack of support will turn honest citizens to piracy. Despite our victory here today I must report the mission is incomplete. Inasmuch as I wish I could remain, formally requesting re-assignment. Somewhere with mixed drinks and I just gotta listen close. One can dream, right?

-End-

-Austen

OOC: Wanted to introduce yall to my newest character, Pampo is a lot of fun, resurrecting from a SIM who went the way of the Dodo long ago. Not sure how he will fit in, but he is a retired diplomat and gentleman spy.

 

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