Spintered Reality - part three

The doors of the commissary slide open and in steps William Littlefoot, formerly the executive officer of mining ship “Hornet”. At the moment blissfully unaware of his status as “former” executive officer, he rushes across the room like a man with a mission – which, also unknown to Will Littlefoot, he no longer has. The progress of the harried man is watched all the while by Samantha “Gunny” Mcpherson, also formerly of the mining ship Hornet. The difference between the two, at least for the immediate future, is that Gunny is well aware of her “former” status, and is allowing Will to rush around the commissary heedlessly.

That difference is about to change however. While Will is soon to know of his opportunity to explore new ways to fill his time, a new difference will arise. This being that Gunny is far less concerned with her future employment opportunities. As Will Littlefoot rushes headlong toward his objective – a fast meal on the run, before heading down toward what he believes is the still waiting Hornet – he is caught up short by the sight of Gunny Mcpherson, sitting nonchalantly at a table off to one side of the commissary.

“What are you doing here?” Will says, not hiding the note of irritation in his voice.

A slight smile crosses Gunny’s face. Without looking up from her plate she replies.

“Eating my breakfast, what does it look like I am doing?”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it. What are you STILL doing here?”

Now Gunny looks up at Will, the calm look on her face causing her former executive officer’s irritation to grow by the second. She pauses, to make sure he is good and irritated before she continues, in the same vein as before, pointedly ignoring the point he is obviously trying to make.

“Because it’s a nice place to eat breakfast. The prices are reasonable and the food is good.”

A silent pause passes between the two former shipmates. Though the silence takes only a moment it seems to fill all space itself. Will walks over to the table, trying to his best to look menacing. This is a feat, which, when directed toward a woman who was a formerly a pirate (and to the thinking of some people perhaps not so “formerly”) - who had on occasion threatened to reach down her executive officer’s throat, grab his ass and turn him inside out – is perhaps one of the most wasted attitudes that William Littlefoot could have affected at the moment.

“What…”, he said quietly, leaning over the edge of the table, close enough for Gunny to easily take note of the veins on his neck bulging to such an extent that they appear that they may even pop out of his neck altogether.

“….aren’t..”, Will continues, pausing after each word in his vain attempt at emphasis that will instill fear in Gunny McPherson.

“..you” He says, now edging even closer.

“…on….board?”

“Because,” replies Gunny, looking up at Will and smiling in as condescending a manner as possible, “the ship has already gone.”

Another moment passes, as the shock that Gunny had so carefully tried to instill in her former executive officer has the desired effect.

“What?” says Will eventually.

“I…” here she pauses, then continuing in a mocking tone.

“…said…,” she says pausing again.

“That the ship has already gone. Departed. Disembarked. Hit the starry highway for parts unknown.” Gunny said. Then she calmly goes back to her breakfast.

“She’s gone? The ship is gone? Where? How can she just take the ship and go? She can’t do that!”

“Sure she can. Maybe you can’t fly a ship single handedly but Brighde is a pod pilot and The Hornet was once a light cruiser in the Caladari Navy – a military ship. It was originally set up to be flown by one person.”

Another moment of silence pauses as the sudden and drastic change in William Littlefoot’s life sinks in. Unbidden, he sits at the table opposite Gunny. Gunny pushes her plate to one side. Smiles and takes an orange out of the bowl of fruit in the middle of the table. She begins pealing the orange, carefully working the peal away from the fruit so it stays in one piece. The job is soon finished and she drops the orange peal, still in one piece, on her plate. With this, she slides the bowl of fruit across the table toward her former exec.

“Apple.”

“No thanks,” Will replies, shaking his head, more to shake off his disbelief of the situation than to turn down Gunny’s offer of fruit, “Suddenly I am not hungry.”

“It wasn’t a question. It was a comment.” She says to Will with a slight sneer.

“What?” comes the reply, Will now looking at gunny with a puzzled expression on his face.

“It’s not an offer of breakfast, its an name, more of an adjective really.”

The puzzled look on Will Littlefoots face remained. It was a look that told Gunny instantly that he knew even less of his own tribal heritage than she thought he did. Gunny continued, Will rapt in attention more out of a desperate need for something, anything to hold on to now that his entire world had suddenly been whisked away from under him like some ephemeral rug.

“Back on ancient earth, Gunny said, we there was a name for people like you. In my tribe we still use if for people like you – apple.”

“I don’t….” began Will before he was promptly cut off by Gunny.

“…you don’t understand. Of course you don’t.”

Here Gunny picked up an apple. Took a large bite out of it and held it in Will’s face, the white center of the bite toward his face, in contrast to the rich red outside of the apple

“Look at it, she said, it’s red on the outside but white on the inside – just like you.”

Now Will was mad all over again. As he understood the comparison he became furious and started to rise from the table.

“Sit down.” Gunny said, her voice deadly serious.

Gunny had that way about her that, in moments like these, made it readily apparent to all around her that she had spent many years of her long life plying space as a pirate. The command that she gave her former executive officer made him certain that those days were, perhaps not as far behind her as he had supposed.

“You may have ignored Brighde, Gunny continued, but you re NOT going to ignore me. If you walk out on me before I am done, you will only be able to hobble out.”

Another pause. The entire works of William Shakespeare could have been written in what SEEMED to be the duration of this pause.

“Brighde gave you a chance to help our people. Not just her people, not just my people, not just your people. OUR people. All Minmatar. You never even heard her out.”

Now Gunny pointed to an Ammarrian merchant, on the other side of the commissary. He was dressed to impress all those around him with his obvious wealth.

“Do you see that man? His grandfathers OWNED our grandfathers. We were chattel. Property. Hell our grandfathers may as well have BEEN cattle. Some of our people are still slaves and not just to Ammarians. Now maybe you don’t give a damn about that but I do.”

Will opened his mouth to speak but changed his mind and let Gunny continue.

“…and when someone gives me a chance to end that slavery. When I am given a chance to help out people, and just MAYBE unite all of the tribes. Maybe kick out those who have kidnapped our people for centuries. Well I don’t really give a damn who is footing the bill. Even the First Holy Church of New Rome.”

Finally Will worked up the courage to reply. Having regained something of his composure he looked Gunny right in the eye.

“Maybe your people,” he said, “Maybe my people, but not HER people.”

Now it was Gunny’s turned to look shocked – as well as disgusted. She knew what he was getting at but wanted to hear the words come out of Will’s own mouth.

“Come on…” she started.

“No. I mean it. Will continued firmly. You know it as well as I do. Her father may have been Minmatar, but her mother was Gallente. She isn’t even full blooded Minmatar. She isn’t part of the tribe.”

Now Will was hot. He snatched the apple out of gunny’s hand.

“Apple is it, he said, now raising his voice at Gunny. Apple? Well at least I am all red, not just half of me.”

Gunny let Will rant on, not the least bit intimidated. Now the entire commissary stood still, as Will continued, now shouting.

“Hell she’s not even Brighde any more – just some DAMNED CLONE.”