With all the talk of Caldari and tea recently, I thought I would explore a relatively more mundane instance of this cultural trope.
Black Rise, sometime in YC113
Is it right to say that war is revolutionary? While the revolutions of a wheel involve that object moving forward, it does not change its fundamental shape. Time progresses, but the world remains the same. It can therefore be said that war is indeed revolutionary, but not for the reasons most militarists would have one believe.
In a pocket of deadspace in Black Rise, a flotilla of Caldari Navy starships protecting an asteroid colony had their worst fears realized. Two capsule-fitted vessels, an Ishtar-class heavy cruiser and an Ares-class interceptor, had warped into the sector, veering their hulls away from one another in opposite vectors in preparation for combat. Breaking from their assigned paths, the larger Caldari vessels lumbered into an attack posture, the smaller escorts effortlessly firing their attitude thrusters to do the same. From afar, there appeared to be little human element. The obsidian war machines of the Caldari hid the restrained panic within their hulls. Years of training or none, their fates were sealed, and there was an unspoken consensus amongst the Caldari here that they were doomed. The capsuleers knew this, too, remaining stoic and clinical in their routine elimination of the opposition. The subsequent incineration and vaporization of several hundred men and women took place where, thankfully, none could see. When all were cut down, the Ares entered in slow formation alongside the Ishtar, approaching the colony. The two pod pilots, perhaps in an attempt to shut out their sin, engaged in flirtations with one another, resigning the wrecks in their wake to mere blips on the interface. Onboard the Ishtar, a company of Federation marines were preparing themselves for combat.
"Commander, incoming communication," came the well-spoken voice of the Ares pilot to her compatriot.
"Er..." the Ishtar pilot hesitated, once he realized the communication request came from the asteroid colony, "I see it. We'll both take it"
The feed materialized, revealing the colony's commander to be a young man in an expectedly crisp Caldari uniform. Other officers were assorted behind him in a motley fashion; though their rigid postures conveyed discipline, their eyes spoke fear. The two capsuleers did not reciprocrate the visual feed, letting two Federal emblems do the talking for them. Perhaps it was out of remorse, or maybe it was arrogance, but it was not in the station of the commander to question the decisions of an honourable victor. The commander snapped a salute to the feed, and the Ishtar pilot regretted being unable to return it.
"Captain 3rd Rank Ehu Toshusai, Caldari Navy and commanding officer of this outpost," his voice did not stammer despite the sweat on the young man's brow, "I humbly open this communication to respectfully negotiate the terms of our surrender"
"Luminaire General Seriphyn Inhonores, Federal Defence Union," came the bemused voice of the now-troubled Ishtar pilot. He overlooked giving the name of his fellow pilot, "We are more than happy to minimize further violence on mutual terms. Pleased, in fact. Please state your desires"
The Caldari commander gave a very subtle sink of his shoulders, relaxing and grateful for the capsuleer's mercy. This gave him the leverage to stern his expression, knitting his brow and steeling his voice, "I respectfully request that you permit the personnel under my command to evacuate this colony and return peaceably to the Caldari State without further incident. As commander, I take full responsibility for my inability to sufficiently defend this station, and submit myself to your whims"
In the bath of the ectoplasm, the Ares pilot pursed her lips. The other capsuleer replied, "Right, this is fine. You will allow us to dock and send aboard a full detachment of Gallentean marines. They will be armed, but so long as there is no incident, all of you will be permitted to board shuttles and return home"
No smile or any visual indication of thanks came from the Caldari commander. He simply saluted before the connection dropped, "We are grateful for your mercy. Please dock in due course"
The capsuleers exchanged no further word to one another, their respective ships entering the asteroid to receive the docking clamps and umbilicals. The Ishtar opened up, and out marched a small legion of Gallentean marines. The Caldari had already begun to preempt the victors by throwing the last of their weapons into a pile near the end of the docking ramp. A couple of Gallentean squads filed out to oversee its completion. In due course, the disgraced Caldari began their march to the shuttles, watched by the Gallenteans. Some of the invaders threw up the front visor of their helmets, engaging in casual conversation and banter. However, once they witnessed the stoic, expressionless march of the Caldari out of the station, they were filled with embarrassment. Exchanging bemused glances amongst themselves, all of the Gallenteans eventually fell into silence, if only out of respect for their defeated enemy. Wordlessly, they acknowledged the virtues of their opponents in maintaining dignity in defeat.
The two capsuleers soon emerged from their literal vessels, each wearing a podsuit made complete with a Federate flight jacket and officer cap. The shorter of the two was a petite, tawny woman of refined appearance, while the taller was a man of perhaps mixed ethnicity, more adeptly carrying the air of a soldier than his colleague. They both met members of their respective retinues, allowing themselves to be informed of the situation. They looked over to see the quiet march of the previous owners, as well as the victorious marines watching them in shamed silence. The capsuleers and their subordinates departed towards the asteroid's command centre, drawing up no reason to continue watching the pitiful sight. Only when the group found themselves in the periphery did they think it suitable to talk amongst themselves, hushedly so.
The control room was completely evacuated, almost. The Gallenteans who set foot inside thought it prudent to fall into silence, taking cursory glances around the cavernous interior. Draped on either flank of the massive viewscreen were black and gold banners of the Caldari State, or at least, that is what they once were. Where the State emblem was once emblazoned were dirty patches of white, where bleach had burnt out the gold colour along with the logo. The group exchanged their own appraisals and interpretations of this quietly amongst themselves, but were subsequently reduced to a sharp silence upon the next sight of interest.
Strewn across the commander's console was a white tablecloth, almost an eyesore in contrast to the deep blue shades of the control room. Across the brilliant white fabric were dark stains of a black liquid, but this was a mere detail in light of what lay over the cloth. The young Caldari commander was slumped lifelessly over the console, a smashed teacup by the base of his chair. His hands were open and reaching out ahead, as if desperately trying to clutch onto some last embers of life, smoulders that may have saved his soul. Thankfully, his face was not visible, for it was turned away on its cheek.
The Gallenteans were overwhelmed by the sight, stunned into motionless. They were torn up inside by the presence of this dead young soldier, full of conflicting emotions as they registered what had taken place and why. This single death communicated far more than the perishing of several hundred that took place not even an hour earlier, and it was this that troubled the witnesses further. Once they had processed what had occured, the Gallenteans looked amongst themselves with muted grief, remaining ambivalent.
The senior capsuleer responded first. He drew his heels together, locked his left arm along his side, and slowly drew a salute. The others did not hesitate in following his lead, bringing their hands up as well. They remained as such for many moments, and said not much more thereafter.