Like a Remora Swims
-|| Location: Artesia, GA/NEO DMZ
-|| Tags: Aela Keersu | Cortana Jade
-|| Theme: The Hanging Tree
“Can you smell that, son?” Casca’s father asked. He’d been dead for nearly a decade now, but the old man’s voice was still plain as day in Casca’s mind. Tough, gravelly, weathered by a long life lived in fear. Casca remembered looking up at his father. He had to crane his neck to see the man’s face. “That’s the smell of freedom,” he said.
“It smells like smoke,” a much younger Casca replied. He must have been 10 or 11 then, on the day he went with his father to the city square. The ashes had long since disappeared from the air, blanketing the streets in a thin sheet of grey. His father nodded.
“Sometimes, freedom needs a spark.”
Casca blinked back to the reality that was unfolding around him. A Gran, he thought, had bumped into him unapologetically as he pushed his way forward through the crowd. Chants filled the air, flying alongside protest banners that read “NO MORE” in crimson letters. Two simple words that were worth millions. They carried the collective anger of not only the people of Artesia, but the people of many worlds just like it. The state of things was no longer viable, and the people have had enough.
The Corellian shuffled forward along a stream of more passive protesters, inching towards the front of the demonstration slowly but surely. He pulled a hand from beneath his mottled poncho and placed a finger to the comlink in his ear.
“This is Pryce,” he said. “I’m getting closer, but not fast enough. Something’s happening up ahead.” The crowd’s voices were never unified, but they hadn’t seemed panicked, either. There was a shift in tone, a change in the air. Fear weaved its way through them like a viper through a warren. It was a low thudding sound that had stirred them. Casca thought it was the rumblings of an evening thunderstorm on the horizon, but as it drew closer, he realized it was of a more nefarious nature: boots.
Riot troopers had arrived.
In these moments, even something as subtle as a twitch could set off a domino effect that would change the course of history. These things took poise and uniformity, but those were rare ingredients when the beginnings of rebellion were brewing. Oftentimes, even when they were there, it made little difference; “sometimes, freedom needs a spark.”
It was a young woman who made the first move. She clutched an effigy of Artesia’s president in one hand and a lighter in the other. Discouraged by few but egged on by more, she held the effigy’s head to the open flame and let it catch fire. She threw it, sending it like a comet through the atmosphere overhead and into the gathered riot police.
It was the last straw, the act of violence they needed to end this entire thing. The spark.
The chilling thunk of a grenade launcher echoed in the distance, followed by another, then another. Streaks of caustic gas flew overhead. Screams and shouts erupted and the crowd lurched forward, throwing itself against riot shields.
“We’ve got to move, now!” Casca said. He needed to get clear of the crowd and regroup with Cortana Jade and Aela Keersu before things got even worse. He’d take anyone else he could with him.