Change The World

This is my entry to the Inspired By Images Of Eve Competition 3. More details and links to all entrants can be found at Starfleet Comms.

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The coldness of space couldn't block all of the wonderful memories out of Amos' head, or let them dissipate into the nothingness around him. Approaching the Amarrian border always made Amos nervous, even in low security space where there were no officials to enforce the prohibited from entering. This time was a bit more different, more real and more meaningful. He was returning to visit his childhood.

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The slipstream of the warp tunnel wrapped around him, with the simulated air rushing past his ears, then suddenly a plethora of smells. Hot metal, unclean bodies, the smell of Amarrian cologne filled his senses. Amos shuttered in his pod at the thought of it, how vivid, how real. A whip cracked in his mind, the yells of the Holders men willing him to work harder and faster.

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The mine was viciously hot, humid and smelled of a people in bondage to unjust rule. The ventilation system kept the air breathable but never cool. Low ceilings and cramped corridors connected the various inner workings of the mine. The equipment was older than most of the slaves there, and at times would require small hands, in small places, to repair them.

Amos was lucky in that he was a very bright child and could pick up on lessons in the mine very quickly. His quick whit and ability to diagnose problems with equipment, kept him from the more laborious duties most children endured. This by no means saved him from the cruelty of slavery at the hands of his masters. At a whim and crack of the whip, his back would be raw and bloody for days.

The hum of lasers, the ever present sound of rock being ground to get the precious materials became background noise to Amos. The normalcy of the mine would only be broken by calls for him to repair this machine or fix that console or to get that conveyor working again. One day, his monotony was broken by a plainly dressed woman with a strange emblem on her top, who looked nothing like anyone he had ever seen before.

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Amos scrawled the figured on the ground, “S...O...E” and wondered exactly what they were, how they related, and what they meant. He knew they had to be some form of language, as some of the weapons the slavers carried also had markings on them. He was so deep in thought that he noticed the pair of small feet, clad in just as small work boots , as they stopped a few feet from him. Amos stood up and met the woman who would change his life.

“Hello young man, my name is Sister Margo and I am with an organization called Sisters of EVE. I hope that my accent isn't too thick, and that you can understand me”

Amos nodded and replied “My name is Amos, I fix the broken things around here”

“I've already heard much about you Amos, the guards hold you in high regard for your ability to fix that which is broken.” she said extending her hand out to shake the young mans hand. Amos put his hand out, not knowing what to expect next. Sister Margo gently shook his hand, and started explaining the bigger, broader world.

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As the rifter exited warp, Amos couldn't help but to remember the last view he had of the mining colony, the barren asteroid he had once known as home. The Republics landing vessels on the surface with men all around them pulling security. The large fire burning in the overseers residence on the colony. The men, women and children exiting the colonies living quarters and moving on to the launch pad to be taken to a home in the Minmatar Republic they had never known. The look of wonder in their eyes as they saw vessels of a strange design and a distinct lack of understanding that they were free.

Looking at the colony and seeing that the repairs had been made, and the events of that day long forgotten, made him realize how much the universe never changes. As he looked closer, he saw a small, Sisters of EVE vessel docked and felt pang of guilt for what he once knew. Inside, Sister Margo was likely trying to make the slaves lives better, talking bout the world and setting young minds free.

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“Unfortunate.” is all that Amos could think as he began targeting the colony.

He could feel the weapons systems were armed and could not detect any faults. The proper ammunition for penetrating the buildings of the colony was loaded, and Amos gave pause for just a moment before opening fire

“Amos, this colony is not your home, its your prison. Your thoughts will always be yours and no one can take that from you. You are your future, and your future is whatever you make of it. Amos, someday, you'll change the world.”