I repeat the details of the arranged meeting to confirm my reservation,then remove my helmet with a simple tug. Running a hand through my thick, straight hair, I glance nonchalantly at the reflection on my canopy of my helmet floating and rotating toward the back of the cockpit. Focusing on myself, my amber gems sit quietly upon an oval plate colored like the harvest moon. My thin lips part out of exhaustion, releasing a short breath.
Enabling the landing gears on the panel to my left, I grab a pair of thin-frame, silver glasses previously locked in place and set it above my narrow nose bridge. At the same time, I adjust the maneuvering of the ship with my right hand and steer my Imperial Clipper gracefully through the entrance on the side where the signal light glitters green.
The interior of the station comes into view, bustling with vessels entering and leaving their hangars. It is not long before I locate my landing pad, I merely need to roll gently to the right to adjust my positioning.
After throttling to zero, I allow the ship to drift into place. Biting the tip of my glove, my hand struggles free and tosses the glove toward the helmet behind me. The engines of my stead sluggishly drift to sleep, along with its frame's dying vibration.
Kicking off from the metallic floor, I spiral out of my seat toward the ceiling of the cockpit, escaping from the grasp of my pilot suit and other parts of the attire in the process. My bare fingers connect with the cold ceiling and lightly push myself toward the ground. My layered chestnut hair tumbles and trails behind as I pass the sliding door of the ship's central elevator.
“Take me to the ground level.” I command as I slip into a pair of dark slacks and white button-down shirt.
Before long, I shelter my eyes from the bright light of the landing pad spot light with a hand as I grab my overcoat from the top of the staircase leading to the surface of the station. Throwing the black coat over my shoulders, a member of the Kumo Crew salutes my presence as my foot land on the ground of the station.
“I'll escort you to the administration building, please follow me.” The figure speaks, I am unable to make out his features due to his pilot suit and helmet.
Without a second thought, I nod with a faint grin and tread toward the transport lane with him, into the armed, ground transport.
During the ride, I turn my head at the entrance of the station, watching myself revolving around it. On the other side, my crimson Clipper's undisturbed slumber comforts me, especially with the streaks from scratches on its paint.
“We heard about the Hutton incident, I cannot believe how many traders you guys sent to their makers. It almost makes me want to join The Code.” The figure turns his head at me with his hands on the steering wheel, laughing.
I grin bitterly and reply out of politeness. “I was not present at the incident, unfortunately I am not Chronos and our membership is currently at full capacity.”
Spacing out, I try to focus on what is there to be discussed with Archon Delaine, I am unsure as to why I was summoned.
However, the door tothe sixty-sixth office on the sixth floor of the administration building taunts before me as I reach toward the door's security identification pad.
Before I can confirm my identity with the system, the door slides open with Lord Delaine resting on his chair with his hands crossed on his thigh. His scarlet jacket sits on the arm of his chair, along with his scarf. “I thought you weren't going to show up since I didn't slap a 'mandatory' stamp on the message.”
“I would never turn down an audience with the pirate lord.” I laugh,strolling toward him with the door sliding shut behind me much swifter than I would prefer.
Archon rests his head on his palm and leans toward his right. “Yet, you are one yourself. I see that The Code is doing well considering what happened at Hutton.”
I withhold my comments and merely chuckle lightly in reply, stopping before Archon's desk. The lord motions me to take a seat, and I comply. Upon the desk sits an intricate coffee machine, with two Hutton mugs sitting idly by.
“Regardless,these mugs are definitely worth it, so you have my praise.” Lord Delaine compliments dryly, personally lifting the coffee pot beneath the brewer and pour into both mugs gently.
I take one of the mugs as Archon instructs me, then stare deeply into the brownish hue of the mug's content. I glance around the desk and find no sugar nor cream of any kind. “I see you do not fancy any flavoring.”
“I think the mug itself is the best flavoring.” Archon tilts his head,then reaches down toward one of the drawers and retrieves two packets of sugar and a small cup of sealed half and half. The pirate lord passes them to me along with a stirrer, then takes a sip from his black coffee. “I can taste the desperation of those traders, the struggle for life, the mourning for and of the dead. I think the world cannot offer better spice than this.”
I drink from my cup of black coffee, there is a coarse texture, complex and thick. The closest thing I can compare it to is perhaps blood,without the taste of rust, but amplified freshness and vitality. “It is indeed a unique flavor. It's a little hard for me to swallow without some sweetener.”
Opening the sugar packets and the half and half, I pour both into my cup at the same time, stirring it with a free hand. The deep, seal brown lightens into the color of caramel, lighter than my amber eyes.
“I see it as disrespect to taste and imagine their struggles as anything but their true color.” Archon leans toward me with great interest burning in his hazel eyes, glaring at me.
I keep myself composed, but perhaps I've shown my intimidated self already.“If every pot of coffee tastes the same for everyone, then I would agree. I'm in no position to judge any true color, when I don't even know what color I am.”
“The world colors you and I black, blind to our origins.” Archon relaxes and rests his head on the back of his chair.
“I would like to think the world magnifies the pixels in us that appear dark to it. The world does not create people, people create the world, after all.” I gulp the sweetened coffee and frowns. “Perhaps a little too sweet, for me.”
Lord Delaine motions me to pass over the cup as he pours more coffee into it from the pot sitting on the brewer. “But then the world takes action, tries to erase us altogether with its arbitrary nomocracy where it assumes consent.”
“Since we do not fit into the image the world sees as beauty, we are but taints upon stained glass.” I chuckle, indulging in the freshly calibrated drink.
Archon taps the arm of his chair, contemplating with his eyes closed. “If the maker of this world knew that the world tries to assimilate any color different than itself, why allow colors to begin with? To torture?”
“I would think the purpose of the world was not to assimilate, but that it unfortunately resulted in such a fashion. Or alternatively, we are the product of the omnipotence paradox.” I stir at my coffee while gazing into the depth of the whirlpool's center.
“We are the stones that God cannot lift? Interesting theory.” Lord Delaine sneers. “The very existence of the Kumo Crew is to point out the performative contradiction of the world, or to force the world to examine that in the process of assimilating and eliminating pixels it dislike, splatters from the slaughter inevitably taint it.We are immortal, in that sense.”
“Why wear the facade of a brute when you possess such intellect?” I smile, tapping the corner of my mug.
The pirate lord reaches for the coffee pot and cracks a smile. “Do you think the Kumo Crew will celebrate over the headline of 'Archon Delaine, the closet intellectual'? Plus, if there is no one to organize and direct the energy of people that stray and deviate from the norm, we'd see a lot more terrorism and lives wasted.”
I cover my lips as I inadvertently give a brief laugh. “The historians will certainly celebrate you more if you point out your intention of creating a sanctuary for those rejected by societal norm.”
“Well,while we are on that note, care to share about the meaning of your code name? You have a quite lean physique.” Lord Delaine raises an eyebrow out of curiosity.
I nod humbly, grateful that the pirate lord is interested. “I would like to think that after every encounter with another being, I take a portion of their soul with me. Let it be as fatal as a death match or as casual as a conversation. In that sense, I do devour, quite frequently and in large quantities.”
Feeling somewhat confident, I follow up on the topic. “I see you more of an augur than Archon, to be honest.”
“That you will have to question my parents once you find yourself on the other side.” The pirate lord surprisingly laugh at the inquiry and takes it lightly.
Lord Delaine rests his mug on the desk as he points at my chest. “Still wearing that Empire badge, I see.”
“I am a color of my own, after all.” I reach up to my badge and stroke at its surface with caress.
Lord Delaine takes a pause before addressing me further, looking pass me at something. “Why do you fight for me?”
I press my lips together, unable to come up with a response right away.My eyes refuse to leave the vortex of my mug's content. Fortunately,the spiraling liquid comes to a stop and so does my mind.
“What should we fight against and how should we fight against it? Will is but theorizing of the ideal without strength, strength is but enforcing the cycle without will. I want to find some sort of answer to my struggling, and I think this is the best place for the time being.”
Lord Delaine studies my visage with an unreadable smirk, perhaps about to criticize my stupidity or congratulate my reasoning.
“Those are words from people that do not live long in the time of war.”Archon shakes his head with the corner of his lips lifting upward.“But, I've lived this long, so I suppose there's hope.”
I lift my mug with a forced smile. “To the closet intellectual.”
“To the experimental polymath.” Delaine lifts his mug, as well.
Abruptly, a transmission tone rings, but the pirate lord mutes it. “Alright,unfortunately I have to get ready for the next meeting, I'm sure there are operations in The Code and fortification efforts for you to attend to, I'm glad we talked.”
“Right,we'll be operating around Sothis for the time being, there seem to be some gold to be obtained.” I rise from my seat and confirm. I look down at the brand of the coffee brewer, it is of an Imperial manufacturer.
The pirate lord realizes my point of attention and taps the coffee maker.“The beans I used were also imported from Imperial ports. It just means that there are people in the Empire with a good taste in coffee, too.”
“War is a beautiful yet saddening thing, isn't it?” I grin reluctantly as I remove a fragment of a coffee bean from my teeth, it's definitely too large to bypass the grinder.
“I'm glad we agree on so many facets.” Archon nods with approval as he glimpses at my movement.
Strangely,either of us finished our drinks completely. Two idle mugs sit aloof on the pirate lord's desk, with the coffee in the mug I used appearing much lighter in color. They face the back of Lord Delaine's chair, which faces the wide open window looking out into the black.
Soon, a red comet shall scratch across that view with or without vestige.
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