The Seasides

A deafening silence surrounds my body, interrupted only by the ominous sound of heavy, metal footsteps that draw closer and closer. As the dark of night envelops me, I listen to that clanking sound I’ve heard a million times before, yet that still threatens to overcome the will of my soul to carry on. Crouching in this cave made of oak trees’ roots, I feel like a child hiding for fear of some monster. The only difference is that my monster is real, and it rears its ugly face at me daily. It has haunted me since childhood, reigned over me since my youth. It has shown itself in these Bots that lurk in the cities and invade our homes. It has shown itself in the burn marks on the arms of brave men who dared to stand in the way of The Federation. It has shown itself in the empty pockets, the bare cupboards, the hunger pains at night. No more, I think to myself. Yet still I cower here, not daring to breathe.

It’s at times like these that I think back to the stories my mother would whisper to me late at night, those legends of old, tales of better days long gone. Tales of honor and compassion, tales of rulers who would risk anything for their people, because they knew the greatness of a man is measured not by the vastness of his land, but by the respect he garners through his character.

Maybe those times were never real, but just a dream ever-stained onto the mind of humanity. Regardless, they are certainly not real now, at least not for our young band of castaways, this crew of vagabonds that is trying so desperately to spread its wings and fly, to drink the sweet nectar of freedom.

Who are we, you might ask? We are called many names by many people. In The Federation, they call us the Outers. Of the same kingdom, yet across leagues of watery galaxy and so far from their daily lives, they regard us as other, as less. Our allies call us the Luminiers. In the bleak dark of night that has suffocated this galaxy’s underdogs and unwanteds for centuries, one spark can start a flame that engulfs us all in light. So they wait, hopeful, yearning for that spark to ignite. They wait for the day that we will burn the old darkness until nothing but ashes remain, leaving a blank slate for new growth among the ruins.

But we call ourselves by neither of these names. We are the Seasides. Our home is here, among these salt-encrusted cliffs and rocky shores, in the small harbors that hold big dreams for the young and old alike. It’s here, among the deep sea fishermen and robotic mechanics, the galactic merchants and their pirate rivals, the inventors, the revolutionaries, the common folk. It’s here, in our little bubble of atmosphere, in our planetary cocoon on the western side of The Great Ocean, the expanse of our water-filled galaxy that separates the old world from the new. Our home is not in the land that birthed us, raised us, watched us expand to new horizons, and then abandoned us. Our home is not in that place of which we know nothing but pain and sorrow and neglect. The Federation is not our home. These years of oppression have proven that. Our home is here, and we cannot let them destroy it.

With renewed fire running through my veins, I take a deep breath, unholster my blaster, and step out from behind the tree.