Zulu Character Retirement Notice

[Zulu0009]

I don't know if this is the right place for this, but I couldn't find anywhere better.

Due to my commitment to University, my paper taking up way too much, burnout, I have decided to retire my characters. This post is to inform people who may be questioning where they went and to give them a good ending. I hope you enjoy and you cry as much as I did.

Francisco Vazquez, the best Bridge Crewman ever to shoot the ship's guns, abandoned the Horizon silently. He packed up his things and took a ride on a trader headed back towards Sol, aided by a sympathetic man from Operations. There was no party, no celebration, not even a goodbye. The door to his room remains open, furniture clean and bed made. All that remains is a note that reads: "I am sorry, my friends. My home calls for me. If I reach it and it's standing, I will fight for it. If I reach it and it's oppressed, I will rebel for it. If I reach it and it's dead, I will die too. Hasta luego, pendejos. Fuck Sol, fuck Dominia and fuck fascists. Vazquez out." By the time anyone finds the note, it is too late. The trader has left local space, and Vazquez is already busy telling stories to the bored crew members. He doesn't know what will happen now, if he will make it home, if he will see his mama again, if he will die in Santa Coleta's embrace or in the cold void of space. He doesn't know, and god damn it, the fear makes life worth living for him. Even in the chaos he finds himself in, he can't help but smirk, laugh and dance, flicking off the inevitability of death. You can't kill Franco, amigo, didn't you know? Anyway, back to the Roses of December recap...

Accordant Kin, IPC Psychologist, already left a while ago. Unable to ever walk fast enough to the lift, it thought it might be best to get back home. Just as Vazquez boards the trader and waves a middle finger at the Horizon, Accordant Kin is sitting on a passenger liner, showing a Tajara child what the ocean of Konyang looks like and singing him songs. No matter what happens, it knows the universe will embrace it, that life will be fine, that the spirits will guide it. In a galaxy filled with war and bloodshed, it is content bringing the light to those who need it. On Konyang, a short little man moves a chair into a lecture hall and places it next to his. He can't wait for Kin to get back so it can teach again.

Francis Amonshaw, the big broad security officer, suffered an injury during a regular EVA session and spent several days in the medbay, recovering with a horrible realization: he couldn't feel his legs. It took a few weeks in a specialized facility to cope with the utter horror, but Francis is strong, and Francis pulled through. He quit, and now has a quiet, peaceful life as a motivational speaker and influencer back in Sol. It was hard to let go of his obsession with physical strength, but staring at the stars on the balcony of the physical therapy center, strapped to a wheelchair, made him realize that the body is fragile. The mind is strong, though, and it must be cared for. He's less bulky now, dresses well, volunteers at a VA and has therapy twice a week. Life finds a way for even a brute like him.  

Bennet Gris, hot-headed middle aged detective, left the Horizon after one of too many shootouts. After a heated argument with an Eagle Corp higher-up, he quit, quoting their utter stupidity and how much he wishes Ringspire would die. He now teaches rookies at a police academy in Tau Ceti, with an emphasis on, as he explains, "not gettin' shot in the forehead on y'first shift". Secretly, he is part of a union trying to bring change to the Republic's policing and to instill progressivism in the force. Deep down, he knows he will die before anything happens, and often he questions whether it's worth it in the first place, but as hair greys and joints stiffen, what choice does he have but to believe?

Torpedo Port, the tall, lanky IPC with the damaged voice module, was reassigned to long-range deliveries. The days and nights pass seamlessly as it pilots small cargo ships back and forth between remote planets, but it doesn't mind. The planets are always so beautiful, coddled in a basket of stars, and it is happy where it sits. Maybe one day it will become conscious enough to understand its situation, its ownership, but life is treating it well enough now. As it lands at the umpteenth spaceport, it begins to notice that people know it. People know its name. People wave at it. It turns out delivering parts to remote planets isn't as lonely as it seemed.

Annabelle Boone, ditzy Martian EMT, took a vacation halfway through her period of training on the Horizon. On an Idris station, her heart was struck: she met a girl, an engineer from the station, and her vacation extended. One day, two days, three days. One notice by her employer, then another, then dismissal. It didn't matter to her. Nothing mattered but her, her oil-slick face, her quirked smile, her childish way of waving when she spotted her. It has been a while now that Boone lives and works on that Idris station. As soulless as the corporate world is, the representative couldn't help but wipe a tear and hire Anny on the spot once he heard her story. Now she waits in their room with a little ring box in her hands. She really hopes she'll say yes. If only she knew about her love nervously pacing towards their room, little ring box in her hands.

And finally, me. I have a long way to go, and life is hard sometimes. It's difficult to get up and get dressed, some days it's impossible, but it's worth a try. I'm writing a paper that I hope will get my name out there. I know what I want to do, I know my morals and my values, and I have faith that I'll make it. What is there to life if not to try, to believe? I'm writing this on a Sunday, and tomorrow I have lectures until 8 pm, but it's fine, and I'm so happy of where I am. I'm so happy that people wave at me in the halls and the classrooms, that the lunch ladies smile and call me "honey" when they see me. I hope y'all have a good time too. You can reach me on Discord if you want, I'll be there.

Hold fight win, pendejos.