*

 

voor merle

 

*

 

The heat of the sun is scorching as it shines down on Namjoon and his white robe. The punishing heat filters through every inch of the cotton, making beads of sweat run down his neck. It had been some time since he’d felt the sun quite like this, Namjoon notes absentmindedly. As he starts to cross the road along with the others, he can feel their curious eyes on his back. He has noticed how tired the people look; how the children roaming the street seem thinner than before. If they were to be attacked now, their troops would be hopeless. It’s the hottest summer Eacraithne has had in centuries.

 

In front of him water visibly evaporates from the concrete road, steam appearing through the crowd of people like a horrible cloud of butterflies. The citizens try desperately to catch some of the valued liquid themselves, cluttering and crawling around Namjoon like wild beasts. The professor continues his path.

 

It’s another busy day at the market. The live animals sell better than the meat; fruits and vegetables outdo the round, shining, sugary sweets for once; luxuries not being something anyone can afford these days. Namjoon sees children pulling on their parents’ sleeves, begging for a sugar cube or two, and being told off. Another right turn and he finally reaches his old friend’s stand.

 

Pushing aside one of the many chickens hanging by a thin string of robe, Namjoon is faced with the gleeful face of Jung Hoseok. The other man is smiling; partly because Hoseok is a fool, partly because Hoseok is always smiling. Namjoon is not.

 

‘’Why, hello!’’ His friend calls in a greeting, putting away the cleaning cloth he’s holding, stained with blood. Namjoon pushes away the cheap red linen that forms the entrance in front of him, and enters the tent.

 

‘’Glad to see you didn’t suffocate at the gymnasium! What’s it like seeing the sun after such a time?’’ The brunette jokes, his wide grin revealing brown-stained teeth. A young girl is clutching onto his right leg, staring up at Namjoon with wide, slightly frightened, yet slightly curious eyes. Namjoon crouches down to her height.

 

‘’Hello there, Mina! Why don’t you be a good girl and go to look where your mother is? Tell her she needs to watch the stand a while. If you do this for me, I’ve got something for you, see,’’

 

Out of the inner pocket of his shirt, Namjoon reveals a bright red-and-white block of sugary goodness. Instantly, the little girl jerks forward, her tiny hands pulling at his fingers to see better; it had been some time since her father had bought her any sweets. Her eyes grow even bigger upon seeing her favourite beet-flavoured Quab. Small fingers clutch the cube out of Namjoon grip before she’s even finished nodding, never agreeing to anything more quickly.

 

As the little girl runs off to summon her mother, there’s only Hoseok and him remaining in the cramped red tent that makes up the family’s business and home. The taller man crosses his hands, his face turning more stern now that his daughter is gone.

 

‘’What do you need, Namjoon?’’ He asks, unimpressed. ‘’We have no money. You and your friends at the Academy made sure we pay enough tax to have none left.’’

 

‘’You could have had a place at the Academy,’’ Namjoon reminds him. The professor is not at all in the mood for a lecture. There are more important things to discuss.

 

The vendor chuckles bitterly, not facing Namjoon. He walks away from the professor while chuckling bitterly to himself, to a ramshackle wooden board in the back of the tent, and starts plucking the bird that’s spread out there. Its bright blue feathers fall to the ground and into the dust. Namjoon remembers women who used to wear such feathers around their neck when he was just a little boy – but that was before the Event. There hadn’t been a ball at Eacraithne for years. Not while people were busy trying to survive.

 

He balls his fist at the memory of the Event. The screams of hopeless children, young women’s faces, black with sooth and dirt, the awful splatter of red… the people lying around. Namjoon can’t seem to shun the most vivid imagines, not even in his dreams.

 

‘’So, what?’’ Hoseok barks, shaking Namjoon out of his thoughts. Looking up at his former friend, the other spits: ‘’You came here just to reminisce about our time at the Academy?’’

 

His jaw is set tight, the force with which he rips out the feathers unnecessarily violent. Namjoon might not often see Hoseok like this, but he does know what it means. This is all the bitterness that lies underneath that mask of a smile the other carries nearly always. Bitterness brought on not just by the Event, but by the state of Eacraithne today. Namjoon knows better. He can be blunt with his friend – has to be.

 

‘’Hoseok,’’ he calls, voice stern and sharp. He walks up to the other man, who has finally put a stop to his labour, and looks him right in the eyes.

 

‘’War is coming. I’m offering to make you a survivor.’’

 

*

 

The safety lock of the ship’s door clicks in place above him, the wide metal box looming dangerously over his body. Jimin hovers 20 meters up in the air, upside down underneath the huge flying device. He presses his feet against the cold metal, and pushes his body away. The long lifeline attached to the armour on his chest lets him ascend down to the ground floor, where he lands with a soft thud, another repair successfully done.

 

Jimin is one of the best mechanics on this planet. Hell – even this galaxy. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be here, he thinks as he wipes his black hands on the white cloth a recruit hands him. With a groan of relief he strips himself of the heavy helmet he’d been wearing. The thing falls to the ground with a hefty bang. His bright red hair sticks to the sweat on his forehead.

 

It’s bustling with people around him. They’re walking to and from the runways, recruits and lieutenants alike, all of them busy with preparations of something or another, their dark-blue uniforms a stark contrast to the sterile whiteness of the repairs unit. Ji