Trouser Travails - Chapter 2
"Our God and soldier we alike adore - just at the brink of ruin, not before; after deliverance, both alike requited; Our God is forgotten and our soldiers slighted." Francis Quarles
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The Arcadia swept into the gravity well of Sol in silence and stealth. Even though the Illumidas were no longer in control of Earth - indeed, no longer in control of their own home world - Harlock still kept his approach and presence a secret. It was troubling that despite all he and the Arcadia's crew had done to help Earth reboot, so to speak, the political environment was such that he was still a wanted man with a rather respectable price on his head.
In short, despite the general knowledge worldwide that they had a huge role to play in Earth's freedom and restoration, he was not welcome on his own home planet. There were times that he thought bitterly on that but then decided that his nature was not one to dwell on past sins of others. Learn from them, yes, dwell on them, no.
As they dodged all of the warning devices and buoys placed in the system, he was heartened to see that more people were emerging from the shadows and once again, mankind was searching and exploring his own space. "Kei, call the Death Shadow Station and have it prepare for our arrival." Kei nodded affirmatively and proceeded to signal the station. This would get it ready to receive the Arcadia and her crew. Harlock signaled Yattaran to take over for him at the helm. Harlock then went back to his quarters.
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He retrieved a bottle of wine from the wine cabinet and uncorked it, decanting it into the carafe. He poured himself a glass of the deep flavorful Merlot and carried it to his table and chair near the window. He sat down, crossed his legs and stared out of the window. This would be the first time he had been back to Earth in almost a year. He turned his CompPad around and pulled up the news feed from Earth.
He was gratified to see that even though Triter had been fighting to get back into office, the people of Earth had not confirmed him in his bid for election. He smiled. Good, perhaps they were learning to look beyond the slick media portrayals to see the truth just below the surface. So, that meant that there was hope for Earth, however, an awfully large pointy stick had had to be used to awaken them! Truth was not ever in words, only in one's deeds, so if his interventions had at least that much effect, it was enough. As he swirled the wine in the glass, sipping on it occasionally as he reviewed the latest news, he thought back to how he had gotten to be where he was now.
He wondered if he had never gone into the Solar Federation Navy, would he now be Earth's premier pirate? Would he be home in Heiligenstadt with Maya raising their children in the Harlock ancestral home? He doubted it. More likely, Earth would either still be enslaved, or dead and her people scattered to the four quadrants, he and Maya along with them. He finished the glass and set to pour himself another. He was maudlin today, more somber than usual. It had to be the trousers; he was wearing his old naval uniform pants and it was causing him to think about things he usually shied away from.
With a quirky grin, he got up and went over to his walk-in closet. He wondered why Tochiro had made such a big closet in the Captain's quarters, for he certainly wasn't the sort to take up even a quarter of the space provided. He pulled out the case that held the rest of his Sol Fed uniform. Peeling off his shirt and dumping it on the floor, he pulled out his Sol Fed shirt and jacket. He put them on. As he did so, another box behind the case became visible. He stopped what he was doing and then sat on the floor of the closet and pulled the box over to him. He rested his hand on it for a moment of indecision. With an impatient nod at himself, he then opened the box and looked at what it contained.
He had received this box a year ago. It had come from his old commanding officer, Admiral Horatio Nimitz MacArthur. In it, was an envelope with a letter from the old warrior. Harlock pulled off his gauntlets and pulled the letter from the box. He opened the envelope slowly, thinking about the last time that he had seen Horatio. He had been on Pluto with Maetel when the disturbing Shadow had come up to him and said that someone had left something there for him.
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He had gone with Shadow and in an inner room in the sanctuary, the elderly Horatio had been sitting there in a chair. Harlock had a momentary start, not quite certain if he should salute, say hello, or shake hands. He was not certain of his welcome. As he stood there awkwardly, Horatio had risen to his feet and came over to Harlock.
"Not quite certain of the protocols for this sort of encounter, eh?" Horatio asked rather amusedly. Harlock flushed in embarrassment. "I am not certain of anything at this moment, sir." Harlock belatedly put out his hand in greeting. As they shook hands, Harlock looked at Horatio and thought with sadness that the man had aged considerably since they had last talked together. Horatio looked up at Harlock, studying him and rested finally on his eye(s).
"We both have our scars, Harlock." Horatio said softly. "While I retain my rank and privileges and you do not, it is you who have rescued us from damnation. Again. And we refuse to bring you home for the hero's welcome you and your people deserve." Horatio shook his head sadly. "I wish I could say that I was here on behalf of the Earth and her grateful people, but I'm not." He looked up and met Harlock's eye(s) again and held their gaze. "I am here, however, from a group of people on the Earth who do know what you have done and why. They wanted to honor you, but there is little officially that can be done."
Horatio turned and went back to his chair, inviting Harlock to join him in the adjacent one. Harlock sat quietly in the chair and waited to see what Horatio would tell him.
"The Earth Federation is no more; it is now Earth Government Central. All that we started with at the beginning of the war is now gone. There is little difference in where you go on Earth as it all had to be rebuilt; much infrastructure was gone. And although you restored the planet, There were so few people that we have quickly become a rather homogenized people. Much has been lost. And because of this, people have finally started working together and banding together to rebuild." Nimitz took a breath and looked out of the window at space and the rugged mountains of Pluto. He brooded for a moment, lost in his own thoughts.
Harlock waited a beat, then asked, "What does that have to do with why you came here, awaiting my arrival? Obviously, you've been here for quite some time. Why was it important for you to tell me this?"
Nimitz returned his attention to Harlock. "It means that you are still not welcome on Earth, Harlock. I , and some others, wanted you to be aware to be careful when you come to visit Mayu." He smiled. "Yes, we know about Mayu, who she is related to and who her Godfather is." He smiled. "Some of us look out for her when we can. She is a sweet girl; hard to believe that Emeraldas is her mother!" Harlock grinned and bowed his head in assent.
"But you cannot come openly, nor should you put yourself at risk. The bounty hunters all know who you are related to in Heiligenstadt and keep watch over them as well as Mayu. Be careful."
Horatio slumped his shoulders. "I must also tell you that despite our best efforts, you have been tried by a military tribunal and by civilian court in absentia." He looked up at Harlock with sorrow in his eyes. "Harlock, you were found guilty of not only piracy, but of desertion and dereliction of duty, too. Your exile from Earth still stands and your legal status is still one of outlawry."
Harlock took in a sharp breath. He hadn't been aware that he had been holding it. Somehow this was worse than just the thought that no one had tried to see the truth. They had actually given thought to it and repudiated him as an entire world. He tasted bile in the back of his mouth and swallowed painfully. Very well. He couldn't change that. He could only change his response to it. He breathed out.
"Admiral, I appreciate the fact that you took the time to come and tell me of this. It had to be hard for you to do." Harlock gave one of his lopsided quirky smiles. "I suppose I should not have thought that anything else would happen if the truth were known. But I had hoped, I admit that. I chose my course the day I told Triter I would never see to another people's total destruction, nor be a party to it. I refused a direct order from my Commander in Chief and I have to take my lumps for that. In my heart, I knew, and everyone else knew, that it was an illegal order, but it was still an order. I chose to uphold what was right, not what was expedient. The results haven't always been pleasant." Harlock calmly rose from the chair and looked out of the window.
He stared out into space. "This is my home, now," he said softly. "I have all of the universe to explore and welcome that task. I cannot change the course that I am on. Where it will end, I do not know. I only know that I must do what is in my heart to do. I am a warrior, born and bred to protect and defend. It does not require that those whom I protect and defend like what I do, or how I do it. It is only important for me to do it."
Harlock turned back to the Admiral and went over to the chair. He held out his hand in an effort to end the conversation, but Horatio simply looked up at him and smiled. He held up his hand to indicate he wasn't done yet and said, "Ah, I am not yet finished with you, Harlock!" He grinned impishly. "I said that the official statements are what I have related to you. Not the unofficial ones." He waited a beat and Harlock raised an eyebrow while he lowered his hand.
"Some on Earth do understand what a sheepdog is for, you know..." Horatio smiled wolfishly as he extended one hand off to the side, palm up. "Sheep cannot be counted upon to understand or even like their dogs. But that doesn't mean that the sheep don't need one. Oh, they eat their grass all day and bah in the fields going about their business, but it is always under the protective gaze of their sheepdogs. When danger comes, and it always does for sheep, they look suddenly for their sheepdog and try to hide behind them. After danger is past, they go back to ignoring their dogs. "
Admiral Horatio Nimitz MacArthur cocked his head to one side and raised his other hand out to the other side, palm up and continued, "You see Harlock, men and women who are productive members of society are needed and rarely do they even want to do anything violent. It is abhorrent to them and the most distant thing from their minds. They make new things, dream up futures and just live. That is what they are supposed to do. But, they don't like the military people very much because they are sheep and we rather look like wolves to them. We have the capacity for violence and welcome the opportunity to protect and defend. Wolves are quite simply violent, without conscience, and devour the sheep. We stand in the middle, and sheep sometimes cannot tell the difference between a sheepdog and a wolf. However, sheepdogs know wolves when they see them and vice-versa."
Harlock wasn't certain yet if he should be insulted or comforted - was Nimitz comparing him to a dog or a wolf? "So, am I the pirate dog, or the devouring evil wolf?" He asked, somewhat tongue in cheek. He crossed his arms over his chest.
Nimitz smiled. "We both know what we are, Harlock. If I had had to make your decision, I hope that I would have chosen the one that confirmed life and repudiated the psychopathic order given by Triter. I respect you for your choice and honor your decision. I am not alone. Most of the military also agree. However, due to the sheep we must protect, we have to play their games in order to protect them. That means we cannot laud you publicly."
Harlock was intrigued. "So, what does it mean, Sir?"
Nimitz's doggie grin came out again. "It means that there are those of us who, quietly and underground are supporting you. Sheep don't need all of the information they think that they want. We are going to edit what we tell them about you, your missions and your whereabouts."
Harlock cocked his head to the side. "That would mean that you know where I am and what I am doing. I do not think that you can know this other than in retrospect." He was challenging Nimitz; he wanted to see how much he knew.
Nimitz's smile became slightly more wolfish. "Ah, but we do! You've been to Gun Frontier, Pluto, Andromeda, Lar Metal, and Technologia in the past four months alone. You and Lady Maetel are planning something, we know, but not yet what. Care to share?" He waggled his eyebrows at Harlock.
Eh, Harlock thought sourly. They should not have been able to figure out about either Gun Frontier or Lar Metal. So, had Zero been blabbing?
Before he could ask, Nimitz laughed with delight. "You see? You are not as secretive as you think! And no, Warius did not spill the beans. He won't, you know."Nimitz wagged a finger at Harlock. "You have quite a friend there in Zero. He follows orders, but thinks like a sheepdog. He won't sell you out."
Harlock obviously needed to have a talk with his crew! He sighed. Loose lips sink ships... "Was this all you wanted to tell me?" He asked.
"No," Nimitz replied gravely. "We let you down before when we didn't see what Triter had planned for both your downfall and our own. We know better, now. On the surface we will follow orders. Where possible, however, look for an open window if you find a closed door. We will seek to provide you one in dire straits." He got up out of the chair and went over to the closet. He pulled out a large box. "Here, this is yours." He handed the box to Harlock, came to full ceremonial salute, released it and then left.
Stunned, Harlock sat down at the desk by the chair and opened the box. He almost cried.
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In his quarters, he opened the envelope again and read that same letter. This time, he did cry, tears falling down his cheek to the parchment below. He carefully put the letter back into its envelope and folded over the flap, placing it carefully back in the larger box. Then he opened the many smaller boxes within the larger one. He methodically placed all of the small pieces where they belonged on the Sol Fed Navy Uniform Dress Jacket. When he was done, he donned the jacket and looked at his reflection in the mirror on the back of the closet door.
He stood at attention, remembering the occasions that had resulted in all of his various pieces of "lettuce." The people whose lives had been lost while he had survived, those he had fought for and those whom he had been able to save; he also remembered all the people he had served with, most of whom were now dead.
He came to his full height, heels together at full parade attention, raised his right hand to his right brow in perfect parade salute. "For the honor of knowing and serving all of you." He whispered.
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Author's notes: This chapter is a bit more somber and reflective. It speaks to a lot of Harlock's pain. He is an abused sheepdog who still does his best, no matter what. I think it is why we love him.
This chapter is written in honor of those who died on 9/11/01, both in service and as innocent victims.
It was also written from a desire to honor those who serve the many sheep our planet holds. I am a sheep, but a grateful one. I like my sheepdogs and want them to protect me from the wolves of this world. If you are a sheepdog and happen to read this, thank you for your service.
Also, a special thanks for a letter written by Charles Grennel, Army Reserve, and his comrades of the Gulf War, who explain well the need for sheepdogs and why sheep tend to dishonor them. Look it up online with this- thesheepdog - add the dot com thing on the end.