HALLS OF THE FORGEMASTERS, SECTOR 06, TOR VALUM, KESTRI, WILD SPACE
I'm not sure why, but at first I thought that this confrontation, if that's what you call it, was going to be personal. Maybe I expected it to be a game where two people take a back and forth petty swing until one is fed up with it and decides to take it physical. Oh, how wrong could a person be.
"Good exercise if you wanna learn how to fight like a thug. You wanna learn how to kill Forcies..." She leaned in with a menacing, toothy grin towards the girl. "... It's gonna take a bit more than one poorly executed mission."
"You got spunk, Yael. But this lone wolf, moon-jokey, uppity attitude ain't what wins wars. Take it from me, it'll only get you killed..." She turned to look at her again, only this time licking her chops as her eyes glowed brightly against the furnace behind her.
I sighed, taking my time to digest and ponders over Shai's word. There's a twitch of discomfort, a knot tied and fastened in my stomach at the end of her every words. There's an ounce, maybe much more, of truth on the things she said. Yet the fact is only one side of the coin.
"That was what you call poorly executed? See, that's the problem with you elders. You think outsiders will see a pair of Beskar'gam and think how strong and honorable our people are and will decide to help us? Karkin' joke. I did what I had to do under the circumstances and went home with what we came to take."
Poorly executed mission. This is a generational clash. It wasn't the result that Shai is criticizing, it's the fact that we took action to our own hand, going against the elders' wishes. It's a generational resentment from theirs, towards ours, that we actually have fervent dreams for the Enclave, for our own people. Shai might not be what you traditionally consider as the Enclave elders, and that might be a good thing. Still, she fought and fraternized among them, she was forged in a similar Enclave as they were.
"You might have grown up in an age where the Enclave was all high and mighty, but we didn't. We grew up in an impotent Enclave, castrated by austere policies, isolated in this cold, barren land. Our bedtime story was the supposedly glorious past of our people, but our reality was one malnourished super senior living off of the pity-welfare from the galaxy."
I can feel it boiling inside, the rushes of blood gushing to my face. If I don't have my Buy'ce on, everyone could probably see how red my face gets, and the shed of tears I can't hold off. A sight that no one has, and no one probably will ever seen. No one, besides Dad and Emam. How dare she, they, questioned me for my attitude out of all things. Attack the way I acted, the way it was executed, sure, I can take it. Tell me what is there to improve, I will learn gladly. Yet, my perspective, my temperament, my so-called
attitude? They are the way it is only because of the sorry state of the Enclave we grew up on. It's the other side of the very same coin that they don't want to talk about and admit.
"Between you and me... I'd like to buy you a drink... once I'm done here..." She glanced up again at the woman. "That cool with you, or are you too good for that?"
"So please, entertain me with a drink and we'll talk like we're on an equal standings, but don't you ever dare yap your mouth with those sad, old, wise words from the elders, because that wisdom is what put our once mighty tribe into this perpetual state of coma."
I said it with my full, deep breath, eyes glaring at hers through the safety of my Buy'ce. If she wants to talk, we'll talk. If she wants to punch me, hit me like a truck, I'll take it like a champ. But what is said needs to be heard. It was a generational plead of our fiery anger, eager... no, desperate, to take on the galaxy that has wronged us, to burn it all down, to bring dignity back to our tribe.