Stefan Dragomir had had enough. A few months ago, a merchant ship had docked in the spaceport of NeoKyoto. Working with the vessel's Deckmasters, he and his coworkers had helped unload the ship's cargo and during short breaks, the two groups of men had talked. From the foreigners, Stefan learned many things. He learned of the wars and politics plaguing the galaxy and of various powers attempting to achieve dominance in the known universe. He also learned of a faction to the galactic south of the galaxy and their ideals. The ship's crew spoke of the ideology in a scoffing manner as if the sheer concept of human supremacy was ludicrous.
Stefan laughed with the others at the time, but had later thought heavily about what had been said. He knew that there were very few alien dockworkers. Those that worked in the space ports were either better paid, in positions of power, or both. Most Crane Chiefs, Dockmasters, and various other high paid positions were usually occupied by aliens and very, very few humans. He pondered over how humans fit into society many days and nights before coming to the eventual conclusion that the Protectorate was right and that the human race was oppressed and deserved equal rights and standing in the galactic community. With this in mind, he had set out to convert others to his cause and had found others with similar mindsets and small pockets of idealists with his same beliefs. Soon, a small congregation of dockworkers, factory hands, and common laborers had formed made up of men and women with the single ideal of humanity standing equal amongst the races of the galaxy.
Now, that congregation stood together, marching down Harajuku Street. Men and women, five hundred strong, protesting their oppression. Stefan stood at the forefront of that group waving his posterboard sign like a flag of the cause. He had had enough.
