Time To Make a Stand
06 Dec 2023Oak7603
Cmdr Oak sat in the seat of The Mighty Oak, depressed and grumpy. He'd had a busy couple of days but they were filled with the sounds and thoughts of so much negativity and pessimism that he was determined to do something about it.It started yesterday. In between visiting stations while upgrading his Chieftain for a serious foray into the world of AX, he had popped into bars, listened to conversations, checked out some message boards and read some posts and it was awful. Something seems to have gripped pilots lately. The loudest voices are those of discontent, dimissing and tearing down any one who has anything positive to say about being a pilot today. The thing is, they are also just pilots! It's like the world suddenly owes them a favour! Like as if shouting at the nebulae at how angry they are with their situation that it will change a thing. It won't. You're all just pilots, get on with it or leave the profession.
At times he had sat there, ready to join in the conversation to tell them exactly how it felt but he kept quiet. Worried that he would just set them off. Start a bigger argument. Maybe even start a brawl. Instead he just seethed.
Sleep eluded him and today, he decided to do something. He didn't know if it would work but he had to try.
The anger turned to ideas. The ideas turned to a plan. The plan turned into a thesis. The thesis turned into The Elite Realists.
A place for pilots to be pilots. Talk about the worlds they come from, the lives they lead, in an environment where they could be themselves. Be the pilot that they are. Sure they're going to complain about stuff. Who doesn't get wound up that you can only buy Kamitra Cigars in one place. Who doesn't complain that the rich pilots keep getting richer. Who doesn't get wound up by the Fleet Carrier interface being glitchy and not letting you transfer goods properly. they also want to talk about their acheivements. Share their knowledge. Support new pilots and be the best pilot they can be.
But there needs to be an environment where this all stays grounded. Grounded in the universe we all exist in. The universe where humans left Earth hundreds of years ago to visit the stars. Where Thargoids are a clear and present danger to our entire existence. Where pilots are the priveleged humans that are lucky enough to be able to fly amongst the stars.
So he got to work turning the idea of The Elite Realists into a thing. He set up a building that would do the job. Where pilots could come and relax. It has a bar, and a lounge and even gardens. He even set up a Squadron just in case pilots wanted to have more unity out in the black.
He looked at his work. It was a start. It would take time to make it a 'thing' but everything has a birth. Where it is vulnerable, lacking in depth or purpose, but over time it grows. This was the birth.
He set about making a flyer for the Squadron and HQ planned to put it up in the most famous bar of them all - The Thargoid and Fer-de-Lance, but that seemed deserted. The door wouldn't open and so he just pinned the flyer to the door hoping that like minded pilots would see it.
Surely there are more pilots like me, he thought. That want to be themselves. That want to stay grounded in the universe. That want to just get on with their lives as pilots.
Time will tell.
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