"Kalashnikov's", Zvezdny Gorodok

[Aggelos]

Aggelos looked at this obviously curious pilot, and waked his attention to the last bit he had remaining from his inebriation and marveled at the quality of forwardness, obviously left for dead and rejected by all services he stepped onto his stool with what ounce of strength he granted himself be used,

"I am Aggelos, and i am aware my life will end in the war or by the hand of the coalition... voluntarily mind you, see the guards? I'm awaiting what the hierarchy wishes to do with me." he said like he did not care, almost like it was more of an inconvenience.

he tucked the whiskey back into his jacket and looked into a glass of char he poured himself, and pulled out a little notepad and a shoulder patch that seemed to be very old and handed it to Yue Fei.

"i was the first, that is the coalition insignia passed on to me by my ancestors from earth, i just wish to rejoin the fight i had started, even with the changes i see i am the founder and i am the only one who accepts it, if i am imprisoned or ejected out the neared airlock, i don't care, empathy is no attribute the SCRA i deal with hold in value. at least I'll know i tried and was called a fool for doing so."

he opened the notepad as if a reminiscence, then surprisingly laughed excitedly! steadying himself, he finally peered his last thought over a blank page, and said,

"here i was about to recruit a merchant smuggler until i was dry-docked in omega-49, i had just finished the book 'thus spake Zarathustra' in an archive i purchased from him. I know he betrayed me because i found my spyglass dismantled and my crew missing or dead. the irony of this is, i am like Zarathustra in that I've not the words to speak to this crowd, the only way i made my notions to comrades and kin was through my blade, my gun, and my ship... now i am a wanderer... but you don't want to here the rambling of an SCRA 'suspected spy' do you?" he laughed again, putting it down as if now speaking to the wind, or lack there of.

sitting up, he pulled out another glass and unquestioningly poured some whiskey into both, putting one in the air as if to offer.

"it seems your bar will not let me eat or drink, so will you grant an old rambler a drink to the revolution? before i cannot drink it?"

---

Those of freedom walk with guns in broad daylight, and as the weak are killed freedom becomes nothing but a dream.