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Meet Daniel Hobbs
Dec. 14th, 2007 10:28 pmDaniel Hobbs is a simple man. He works his job mining phosphates during the day, and at night he reads, or tends the small garden behind his house. A couple times a week he goes down to a local bar for a beer and a game of darts. For the most part he keeps to himself, lives a quiet life.
He’s never thought about why he’s chosen the bar he has. It’s a small, rundown place. His fellow drinkers are like him, quiet, but observant, and some are heavy drinkers. He appreciates the company, however taciturn. It helps drown out the thoughts that occasionally wander unwanted into his head, memories of long weeks, hunger, blood. He’s never taken the time to notice that the majority of the patrons tend to wear brown, or that no one ever raises a toast on Unification Day. He tries to convince himself he’s never noticed it, or that it matters.
This particular Thursday is no different than any other. Daniel works his shift in the mine, goes to his house and washes off the worst of the grit, then heads to the bar. He’s hoping maybe Melinda, the woman who has allowed him to buy her a drink and take her home once or twice, will be there, but he’s in the mood for any company at all.
He takes his usual stool at the bar, nodding to the bartender, who sets a stein in front of him. He raises it to his mouth, but as he sips, the back of his neck prickles. There’s more people here than usual, and almost all have pieces of distinctive clothing, familiar shades of brown. They sit in clumps, talking quietly, glancing around at the other groups. He sets the stein down, watching them out of the corners of his eyes.
He tenses as a new man enters the bar, his steps brisk as he approaches the nearest group. The others wander over as he speaks to them and as the man shifts, Daniel notices the insignia on his jacket. Browncoat, 189th Regiment.
Daniel abandons his casual posture, staring fully at the man. Is he crazy, wearing an Independent uniform like it’s a regular jacket? He turns back to the front of the bar and begins to fumble in his pocket for a coin – he’s going to pay and get the hell outta here. As he slips the coin on the bar and turns to go, his line of vision is cut off by brown. The man is standing right in front of him.
“Daniel Hobbs? My name is Harvis. I fought with the Independents and I’m told that you did too. A survivor of Serenity Valley.” A few murmurs go up from the table behind him, a few nods from the regulars who have known Daniel a while. Daniel looks back at the man steadily, trying to keep his hands from shaking. “Yeah. I did,” he says flatly. “That was a long time ago.”
Harvis meets his gaze. “Then I guess you haven’t heard. The Alliance passed a new law, a Senator Tam’s idea, called the IIGA. They’re reforming the Independents, lettin’ us be real military again, forming teams to protect our own planets. I’m heading up the division for our world, and we could use someone like you.”
Daniel is stunned. And angry. “You would trust the Alliance?” He steps closer to the man. “You think they’re really gonna let us arm ourselves? Protect our planets? You must be fēngle.” He pushes past Harvis, slamming the man’s shoulder as he passes. He is about five steps from the door when Harvis calls after him, “We’ve got the word of a Browncoat that this is on the level. Rumor is it’s a survivor from Serenity Valley. Just like you.”
Daniel stops again, and turns back slowly. “No one from Serenity Valley would ever trust the Alliance like this.” He turns back and walks out of the bar and into the night, shaking with anger.
As he walks back towards his house, the anger ebbs away, replaced with confusion. He doesn’t read the bulletins, tries to avoid news sheets. He’s been flying under the radar for so long, maybe this is real. He shakes his head and tries to think. There is one man he knows, someone he trusts to tell him the truth. He heads into the back room of his house, pushes aside some boxes to reveal a very dusty comm. He records a short message and sends the wave, then retreats to his room. He knows he won’t sleep til he hears the ping of an incoming wave.
“Arthur, it’s Daniel. We need to talk. What do you know about something called the IIGA?”
He’s never thought about why he’s chosen the bar he has. It’s a small, rundown place. His fellow drinkers are like him, quiet, but observant, and some are heavy drinkers. He appreciates the company, however taciturn. It helps drown out the thoughts that occasionally wander unwanted into his head, memories of long weeks, hunger, blood. He’s never taken the time to notice that the majority of the patrons tend to wear brown, or that no one ever raises a toast on Unification Day. He tries to convince himself he’s never noticed it, or that it matters.
This particular Thursday is no different than any other. Daniel works his shift in the mine, goes to his house and washes off the worst of the grit, then heads to the bar. He’s hoping maybe Melinda, the woman who has allowed him to buy her a drink and take her home once or twice, will be there, but he’s in the mood for any company at all.
He takes his usual stool at the bar, nodding to the bartender, who sets a stein in front of him. He raises it to his mouth, but as he sips, the back of his neck prickles. There’s more people here than usual, and almost all have pieces of distinctive clothing, familiar shades of brown. They sit in clumps, talking quietly, glancing around at the other groups. He sets the stein down, watching them out of the corners of his eyes.
He tenses as a new man enters the bar, his steps brisk as he approaches the nearest group. The others wander over as he speaks to them and as the man shifts, Daniel notices the insignia on his jacket. Browncoat, 189th Regiment.
Daniel abandons his casual posture, staring fully at the man. Is he crazy, wearing an Independent uniform like it’s a regular jacket? He turns back to the front of the bar and begins to fumble in his pocket for a coin – he’s going to pay and get the hell outta here. As he slips the coin on the bar and turns to go, his line of vision is cut off by brown. The man is standing right in front of him.
“Daniel Hobbs? My name is Harvis. I fought with the Independents and I’m told that you did too. A survivor of Serenity Valley.” A few murmurs go up from the table behind him, a few nods from the regulars who have known Daniel a while. Daniel looks back at the man steadily, trying to keep his hands from shaking. “Yeah. I did,” he says flatly. “That was a long time ago.”
Harvis meets his gaze. “Then I guess you haven’t heard. The Alliance passed a new law, a Senator Tam’s idea, called the IIGA. They’re reforming the Independents, lettin’ us be real military again, forming teams to protect our own planets. I’m heading up the division for our world, and we could use someone like you.”
Daniel is stunned. And angry. “You would trust the Alliance?” He steps closer to the man. “You think they’re really gonna let us arm ourselves? Protect our planets? You must be fēngle.” He pushes past Harvis, slamming the man’s shoulder as he passes. He is about five steps from the door when Harvis calls after him, “We’ve got the word of a Browncoat that this is on the level. Rumor is it’s a survivor from Serenity Valley. Just like you.”
Daniel stops again, and turns back slowly. “No one from Serenity Valley would ever trust the Alliance like this.” He turns back and walks out of the bar and into the night, shaking with anger.
As he walks back towards his house, the anger ebbs away, replaced with confusion. He doesn’t read the bulletins, tries to avoid news sheets. He’s been flying under the radar for so long, maybe this is real. He shakes his head and tries to think. There is one man he knows, someone he trusts to tell him the truth. He heads into the back room of his house, pushes aside some boxes to reveal a very dusty comm. He records a short message and sends the wave, then retreats to his room. He knows he won’t sleep til he hears the ping of an incoming wave.
“Arthur, it’s Daniel. We need to talk. What do you know about something called the IIGA?”
