#it's very nice to write a disaster mc who is proactive in causing said disasters

[locria-writes]

untitled pt. 3/?

general notes -- enemy-kun??? where is he???

last edit -- 06/07/22

III.

25 May, 2X58

“Do you think the Lunar Fleet will really take over?”

“I think so. Their ships have been coming here all week.”

“Is it just us, or are they doing that everywhere?”

“I don’t know, but my sister-in-law lives in Libertas Three and said she saw the Lunar Fleet enter Libertas One.”

“How scary…say, Honos is such a small colony, so they wouldn’t get violent with us, right?”

“I hope not. We’re a peaceful place, I don’t think we could hide anything.”

Symphora pretended like she heard nothing, a feeble attempt to spare herself from rousing the ever-present anxiety inside of her, which promptly failed when she nearly jumped at the buzz of her phone.

“Sun, where are you right now?” Her employer, Clarus Barsamian, immediately began talking, not even waiting to confirm she was listening.

“Um, Honos One?”

“Yeah, yeah, where exactly?”

“The market of First Square?”

“Great, get to the Lunar Territories’ embassy and tell them we can’t do it.”

“Sir, I don’t work Saturdays, and I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

Barsamian sighed loudly from his end. “The Lunar Fleet gave all of us a list of whitelisted companies we’re allowed to ship to. I don’t need to tell you how many of our clients didn’t make the cut.”

She was quiet for a moment, letting the information sink in. “They asked this of all companies?”

“Yes, and because I’m heading the Honos Shipping Union, we were asked to tell them to stuff it.”

“I get that, but why do I have to do it?”

“Because, Sun!” He sounded exasperated, like he couldn’t understand her hesitancy. “You worked for the military during the Third War, right? You’re used to dealing with these military type people, so go give them a piece of our mind!”

“Firstly, sir, I was a pilot, not rear service, and not bridge work. Secondly, I don’t even know – “

“I’ve sent a document outlining the situation. Do as you see fit, and good luck, Sun.” With that, the line was cut, and she stood there, baffled, and unsure of exactly what was happening.

“Fuck, I don’t get paid enough for this.” Hardly a week went by without her wanting to strangle Barsamian for bulldozing his way through things and ignoring other people’s opinions.

While walking to the embassy, she went over the document – protestations that this was an illegal move, there was no precedent (at least, she hoped there was none), and so on and so on. She didn’t know what Barsamian expected her to do, since she figured the Lunar Fleet would just ignore her. There might be a few effective threats she could pull, but that would all hinge on her bluffs not being called. She was grateful at least, that her clothes were at least mostly acceptable, and she silently thanked her father for drilling the importance of looking put-together at all times into her.

Without even the faintest idea of who to look for, she tried to calm her racing heart, and marched into the embassy. Stating who she represented would probably be enough to get nudged in the right direction, or maybe asking for a liaison officer, or maybe just breaking down in tears and hysterics would suffice. Oh well, that could always be a last ditch effort if nothing else worked.

To her dismay (or perhaps her good fortune), the embassy was packed full of people. Soldiers, bureaucrats, and civilians alike milled around, likely all busy from the inevitable Lunar occupation. Symphora grabbed a ticket, noting the 179 on it. They were currently calling 94 and it was already 11:35, so lunch was quickly approaching. Most of the embassy staff would be off for lunch, and only a handful of receptionists would continue through it, meaning it would probably be mid-late afternoon by the time they got to her. What a waste of her day off…

She found herself a little alcove to hide in, the perfect spot to keep away from others’ prying gazes, and with a fairly good vantage point of the rest of the foyer. The one thing she disliked though, was that she couldn’t see a secondary exit from this point, and there was a less-than-straight path to the main door, but oh well, that was life. There was a Lunar soldier to her left, eating his lunch while taking a call, presumably a young child, judging by the raised pitch of his voice and constant repetitions, and to her right was a greying woman who kept scrolling through her phone, probably a civilian looking to renew her visa. Feeling awkward and out of place, she took out her own phone, and began re-reading the document Barsamian sent her.

As much as she silently cursed Clarus Barsamian, she was still grateful for his help. When the Third War ended in disaster, and she had no idea what to do with her life, he offered her a job (of dubious legality, but a paying job nonetheless), got her a place to live, and helped her adapt to a life closer to normalcy. They hadn’t ever properly met before, but she did remember seeing him with her father a few times, and Barsamian told her it was the least he could do for such his old associate’s daughter.

It seemed strange at first that a comparatively small company like Barsamian Stellar Shipping (and to a lesser extent, the Honos Shipping Union) would be so close to S-V Industries (let alone her father), but the more Symphora thought about it, the less weird it became. Business was amoral and full of grey legalities, so she just accepted that this was what it was, and deigned not to probe any further. Besides, it wasn’t like she planned on staying here for the rest of her life, and S-V Industries was now just a relic of the past, and beyond any of her concern. All she had to do now was continue on with her original life plan – work like hell, complain about work, and work until she died because there was no other way of living.

#personal writing catastrophe #it's very nice to write a disaster mc who is proactive in causing said disasters #very fun i enjoy it a lot 11/10 would recommend #do i know where i'm going with this story and how it's going to end? #absolutely not just pantsing tf outta this like i always do with my own writing stuff #i'm allergic to good choices like i've always said