2.02 - Man to Man
The barn here became a favorite spot of mine when I first arrived here. We’re far away from the town, and it’s a not a bright town. The view of the stars from here is amazing. It always filled me with the same sense of wonder that I had as a kid. Back when I would dream of being a space marine, taking down some great galactic evils and giving people freedom back. Putting an end to genocides, civil wars, and the like. I thought I’d be helping rebuild societies crushed by the horrors of war or build up places that had been forgotten by time. In the end, I got none of that. I never helped get clean water to remote locations, but I sniped more than a few people. I’ve never built a baseball or soccer field for kids who never heard of the sport, but I shot a kid.
I’m thirty-one years old now. I spent two years on the run from my life in the marines. I spent the better part of a year living out my brother’s space pirate ideas. I’ll be thirty-two soon enough. No children and my romantic prospects are a basketball player who gave up after four good years in the league and an alien criminal halfway across the galaxy who won’t give me a chance for another 60 years. Despite every fiber of my body calling me a failure and telling me to sink my time into this ranch and make a life here; I’m going to go back to what I was running from. Right after I finish a fight that isn’t really any of my business.
“Do you mind if I join you,” Martin asks as he’s already taking a seat next to me.
“Nah, I don’t mind.”
“Did I ever tell you what’s buried under this barn,” Martin asks an odd question.
“You never mentioned anything about that.”
“Remember when I told you about human supremacist and how we all banded together to fight them back.”
“You defected, wanted to make a better place for everyone. Got hurt, met Pauline.”
“Yeah,” Martin smiles as he reminisces. “After all the fighting was done some of us gathered up old armor and guns. We hid them. We thought there might be a day when they would return. I mean, all it took the first time was for people to look the other way because they were too afraid. That’s how they got shiftless young men to join up. The thing is, it took all kinds of people to fight back. Humans of different races, species of people that weren’t human. But the thing is it only took a few to fight back. That’s when people like me switched sides, realized what we were doing was wrong. We became some of the hardest fighters, hoping to make amends for the things that we did. And when things were done, we stayed vigilant. But there came a time when we needed to put those things behind us. We buried those things. Metaphorically and literally. Beneath the foundation of this barn is a cache of weapons and armor. With time, they became worthless. The reason being is that was no more war to fight.”
“You think I’m making the wrong the choice,” I ask.
“Not entirely. Going back to the marines and finishing the time you promised them, that’s honorable. Doesn’t matter if either of us agrees with what you’re doing. What matters is that you’re keeping your word. But, the whole local gang thing, let it go. It’s not your battle to fight, never was.”
“I know, but I feel like I have to do it. You mentioned making amends. I feel like on some level I need to do that. I need to do something good. Years and years of fighting, and I haven’t seen improvement for anyone. But I feel like, if I take care of them, I can provide some good to the people here. I can do something that actually matters.”
“You’re a grown man, and with that comes knowledge and experiences that differ from one man to the next. Those things shape who a man becomes. I can’t tell you not to do it. I can’t tell you how to live your life. I can tell you that I don’t want you to risk your life for something like this. If it were up to me, I say go back. Do your time and come home, then find a new way to help. For me, that’s working with my scouts. It might be something else for you. Just because you were a man of war, doesn’t mean you need to take the war with you.”
“Thank you for that Martin.”
“Well, that’s all I wanted to say,” Martin’s serious tone disappears in an instant. “Don’t stay up here too late. Have a good night.”
“You too, tell Pauline thanks again for the dinner.”
Just like that, Martin vanishes from the roof. Pauline will really punch you in the gut, but Martin knows how to give you an emotional punch, one that rattles your mind and heart. It makes you question what it is that you really want to do. You can be so sure of yourself, and your next steps, then along comes Martin. Kindhearted and jovial, until his words have started to poke holes in everything you know. I felt that way when I first came to this ranch as a laborer. Through our conversations, he began to alter what I thought I knew, time and time again. Here I am now, once again left sitting beneath the stars staring up above, looking for some kind of solution.
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