Aboard Safe Haven

[Jihadjoe]

The hall aboard Safe Haven station was packed with people. The Reapers of Sirius had assembed. Juan Zavala waited to address the crowd patiently, near the edge of the stage which was raised at one end of the hall. He did not personally know the man speaking before him, but he found his words weak and lacking the fire and passion that would stir people's minds and hearts into action.

The man finished speaking and stepped down from the stage, giving Zavala a nod. He nodded back politely, and stepped up onto the raised platform.

“Reapers.”

He spoke without a microphone. His voice carried through the hall to the assembled men and women of the Reapers of Sirius. Calm, clear, accented by his Maltese upbringing, tinted with the depth of age.

“Reapers... I stand before you today with a simple message. A message which each of you, in the depths of your heart, soul, mind, know. Our duty is to bring this message to the masses. To the legions of Sirians who live in the dark turmoil of oppression, violence and warfare. To those who's lives are governed by the ill-will of the few, who's existence is ruled over by material concern, by greed, a lust for superiority, by warfare and violence. These are the people to whom we will bring our light.

The face of our enemy changes over time, but its soul remains the same.

The Corsairs. A brave people who have struggled against the odds to survive on an inhospitable and barren planet. Their bravery and courage is overshadowed by the expansionist and aggressive ideals of the oligarchical Elders. Their belief in their own superiority brings torment to the people of the Omegas. Hardship and loss to their own.

The Outcasts. The people from whom I am partly descended. An afflicted and cursed people, who's freedom has been curtailed by the very planet which they call home. Their Dons seek to bring Sirius under a Maltese thumb, by spreading their curse. Forcing many into slavery, and many others into a state of reliance.

The Hessians. A people who's fight started against a totalitarian regime in Rheinland. However their goals have shifted from that noble fight. Now they are little more than petty pirates, masquerading behind the very ideology which drove the people of Sol from their homes.

The Sirius Coalition Revolutionary Army. The remnants of the great enemy. Their actions are inexcusable. There is no forgiveness in our hearts for them. The Coalition of Sol destroyed all that which humanity had built. Drove our species to a state of desperation, homelessness. Casting humanity deep into the void, with little hope of survival. The war of Sol brought us closer to outright extinction than any other event in human history. Their abhorrent ideology hides its true colours beneath a veil of “good will”.

They are the red tide. Drowning the people of Sirius in a sea of collectivism and non-identity. Non conformists are met with death. Free thought and will? A thing of the past, under Coalition rule. This would be life under the Coalition. This is no life at all.

We stand today in a unique position, Reapers. We are placed, poised, to strike down these evil doers. The Corsair Elders, the Outcast Dons, the hypocritical Hessians and the dictatorial Coalition.

To cut their tongues and let their blood soften the sword of violence. This is your duty, Reapers.

We are the striking lightning that clears the oppressive air. The beating of our drums is the thunder, heralding the rains which wash clean and feed the barren land.

We are hope and death. We are freedom. We are the Reapers.”

He stood for a while surveying the men and women gathered infront of him. He nodded his approval to them, and stepped down from the stage.

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