Hunters

The planet had been called Daiban.

Some of its people still called it Daiban, but officially, the world was designated FN-119. As far as Gem could tell, the Imperium didn't care what its people called it, and cared only slightly more if its people spoke out against the Imperium itself. But action against the Imperium was a no-no, as shown when the Daiban Rebellion was crushed. That was why many of the cities of the world were in ruins, and its few remaining ones dilapidated urban sprawl where people struggled to survive. That had been before the Imperium had developed the Fireweave that was programed into the cell of every human being at birth. The Imperium didn't have to fear a rebellion, because it could shut it down at the flick of the switch. So it would let the people of FN-119 call their world "Daiban." They'd let them call the Imperium a tyranny, and long for the days of the Galactic Federation. They'd let them do any number of things, as long as they didn't forget where their loyalties lay, and that their lives could be ended on a moment's notice.

So it was on Daiban, a.k.a. FN-119, a.k.a. "this hellhole," that Gem found herself walking through, hiding herself under a cloak that protected her against the elements. It was raining, and while not as acidic as, say, SN-883, rain was rain. Cold, wet, miserable. She'd experienced enough of the last state of being in the past year, as the Rogue went from star system to star system, trying to stir up rebellion against the Imperium. Succeeding in that, as Zero noted, but as Reb and Del would point out, accomplishing "jack shit."

"I'm cold."

She glanced at Tag – similarly dressed, similarly equipped, similarly keeping an eye out for Imperium flunkies.

"Do you want me to do something about it?"

"No, not really. I'm just applying therapeutic measures to being cold."

"Oh. Right." Gem paused for a moment. "What does therapeutic mean?"

"I dunno. Something to do with complaining."

'Therapeutic.' The word turned over in her mind. The Imperium didn't want its citizens knowing more than they had to, but maybe the Rogue had a dictionary on-board. Certainly she wasn't going to find anything on Daiban.

"Is that the Hunter?"

Nothing worth reading at least. Worth looking at though? As they entered Federation Square, Gem saw what Tag was referring to – a statue of "the Hunter." Hero of the Federation, Protector of the Galaxy, the Entrusted One…all names belonging to a different time, and for all intents and purposes, another people. Humans of the Galactic Federation, at best, had to worry about Space Pirates and kriken. Humans of the Imperium had to fear for their very lives, at risk from their own government.

The pair walked up to the statue. It wasn't part of their mission. Their mission, such as it was, was to rendezvous with Oriele and get a sit-rep on the Daiban cell. But for whatever reason, Gem found herself drawn to the statue, and she could see that Tag was likewise.

"Think about it," he said. "One of the few legends that survived through the Dark Times. Must have been one hell of a hunter."

"Hmm." Gem wasn't paying attention, instead, she was looking at the suit. It was large, but not bulky. The entire right arm was taken up by a cannon. For a moment, Gem was reminded of her own power suit, how like all power suits, it featured in-built weaponry in the form of the hand cannon. Even the Hunter's colour was similar to hers, what with its orangey colour scheme.

"Think we'll get statues?" Gem asked. "I mean, if we turn out to be saviours of the galaxy or whatnot?"

Tag shrugged.

"Wasn't the Hunter a female? Pale skin, blonde hair?" Like me.

Tag shrugged again.

"Do you know or think anything?"

"That we're wasting time?"

So the spell had ended. The Hunter was long gone, the Federation was long gone, even the Space Pirates and kriken were gone. All that was left was the Imperium and a subjugated humanity. How did you even 'hunt' an entire empire, Gem wondered?

"Fine," she said. "Let's go."

She didn't ask Tag. All he'd do was shrug. And maybe it was a question that had no answer.

And yet part of her still asked.