RENS VI – MOON 8
BRUTOR TRIBE TREASURY

It seemed they had finally managed to get the temperature regulation systems under control in the station. I had found people’s moods tended towards the lighter side of things when they were physically comfortable, myself included.

I took the station’s transit system, as I often did, to ground and humble myself, to remind myself that my gift of immortality came with an inherent responsibility; that I was no better than any other citizen of the Republic, and it was my role to etch out a better life for my people, any way I could. I held loosely onto an overhead handrail, my body swaying in unison with the commuting crowd as the mag train continued it’s uneven journey. Some slept, while others read, or listened to music, or enjoyed some video entertainment. Those that stood read the daily news, or chatted up their acquaintances, or stared off into the distance, lost in their own thoughts. I enjoyed analyzing people as a whole; the behaviours of a group often dictated the acceptable social behaviours of individuals. It had proven useful to me many times in the past when I found myself in foreign cultures.

I had a lot on my mind that morning as well; primarily Kuvakei. There was still no explanation as to why CONCORD didn’t defend their home sovereignty of Yulai, no formal statements from any government as to their positions regarding the Sansha Nation. Despite the efforts of all capsuleers, Sansha had managed to establish a persistent portal to his troops, and heavily defended Nation outposts were being reported across all regions, from high sec to null sec. Sansha had established quick sovereignty in each of these constellations.

It was going to be all out war.

I was the first to notice when it happened. There was no outward indication. He didn’t clutch his chest in that dramatic fashion we see on the holovids; he didn’t gasp for breath, eyes open wide. He simply began to collapse. Every pilot of the Tribal Liberation Force was trained in more than just the basics of flight combat; we were also trained in basic first aid and planetary survival skills, including resuscitation. I tried to reach out for the man before he hit the ground, but my reflexes weren’t fast enough.

Immediately, I hit the emergency stop on the train, landing several of the standing patrons on their neighbours. Many of those sleeping awoke with a start, wondering what was going on, and I could only empathize with them as there had been far too many public suicide attacks during the war with the Amarr this last year. I was down on one knee before the masses could fully digest this occurrence, checking for the man’s breath. There was none. I quickly checked for a pulse. Nothing.

“The Emergency Stop has been pressed in car 2538. We are sending Interbus crew members immediately, and apologize for any inconvenience this may cause. Thank you for choosing Interbus.” The conductor spoke in a monotone.

Damn your “inconvenience” to these people; a man is dying!

I immediately began emergency first aid, compressing the man’s chest cavity rhythmically, positioning myself high on my knees, using my body weight on straightened arms so as not to exhaust myself. I needed to stay with this man until more qualified medical personnel arrived. The passengers surrounding me backed away, afraid and ignorant, not sure what was going on nor what they should be doing. They looked to each other with blank stares.

“Call for emergency services!” I bellowed. Not a soul reacted.

I looked directly at one pudgy, middle aged woman. “You! Call emergency services NOW!” I yelled in my most commanding voice. I watched as she trembled, but pulled our her comm and made the call.

I would not let this man die.

It took nearly four minutes for the train’s response crew to arrive. They weren’t even a medical team, merely a day job conducting crew. They informed me I was legally bound to continue administering life saving techniques, and that if I were not qualified there could be legal consequences. They asked the passengers nearby if anyone had called emergency services. The pudgy lady showed them her comm unit, too afraid to speak.

They simply stood there, apologizing to the passengers on the car for the delay, and for any inconvenience it would have on their day.

Are you kidding me? I thought to myself. There’s a man dying on the floor here, who’s day may be permanently delayed, and you’re worried about covering your corporate ass because of a time delay? Give me a break.

My body was getting sore. I was tiring. It had only been six minutes. There was already a chance of brain damage.

At nine minutes, emergency services arrived and took over from me. They attached oxygen equipment and slid the man onto a stretcher. Statements were taken. “You’re a capsuleer?” one of the attendants asked me out loud as he looked at my identification card. I thought several heads would turn at the mention of me being a capsuleer. Nobody did. As I looked out over the collection of passengers, all I could see and hear was disgruntled conversations about how they were going to be late for their various obligations; work, school, etc.

It disgusted me.

I nodded to the attendant, taking back my ID, and turned my thoughts inward.

Sansha’s Nation was perhaps one of the biggest threats our galaxy had seen, and he had timed his campaign perfectly, while the empires were engaged in war with one another. Poverty levels had hit an all time high. Unemployment numbers had skyrocketed. Governments were financially drained from military initiatives and found themselves impotent to tend to their poor.

The entire galaxy was uncertain and even with a man potentially dead in front of them to remind them of how truly frail life was, these people were still wrapped up in their own self-absorbed blankets of mediocrity.

A part of me mentally volunteered this group to the Nation. They’d be happier there. A bigger part of me wondered why I bothered to fight for the people at all when time after time they demonstrated this type of societal behaviour.

The biggest part of me remembered what it was like growing up as a slave, not having any choices in life, and regardless of my judgments and opinions, I fought, risking my life and the lives of my pilots, so that others would have the ability to choose their own paths, even if they chose poorly.

The train resumed with a start, and there were cheers all around. People went back to sleep, to listening to music, to watching video, to discussions with acquaintances, to reading the news.

I reached for the overhead handrail.

Sansha was wrong. We were a hive mind already, just not the good kind. I felt sick to my stomach. Looking around, you wouldn’t have even known the events of only minutes before had occurred.

How had we survived this long as a species?