Goonhub
08-17-2022, 09:45 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-17-2022, 09:45 PM by Silent Majority. Edited 1 time in total.)
It was 0000 when they arrived.
The commander was till in her other side's uniform. Guards shifted uneasily looking at the NT finery. She was directed to the main room. He was laid out on the table. As was customary. She often forgot how his face looked. How he'd grown older.
It was a warm up exercise. It was procedure. He didn't like to take stations with explosions. He liked to cause a retreat. Bring in the teams. Sweep out any scragglers. Strip everything of use. It was a normal procedure. He was at zero risk.
But maybe. Just maybe...he'd gotten a taste for it again. Doing the detective work. Glorified bounty hunting..the way he did it. Maybe it got his old blood going again. And then he heard a podwars veteran was there.
And he had to show off. Had to gloat. And flex. And ever the cheater he had all the cards. The victory was swift simple and decisive and witnessed by the station.
And he legitimately hadn't expected a second attacker joining with a ship capable of pursuit of his souped up screaming engine.
Arrogant
Cocky
Lazy
Dead
He drilled those words into her every day.
And he died by them.
They took the mask with shaking hands. From number 3 to number 1 and 1/2...the overseer was still the boss..and his now Widow...but military commands now came from her. His gun was slipped from his service pouch. And slid into her own, the old one tossed to the side like so much refuse.
The troops saluted as she sat in his chair at the end of the table.
They both felt empty inside.
"Everyone is waiting to shoot you in the back. Nobody ever helps anyone else unless is for a reason."
He always wanted her to do it. To strike him down. To be just like him.
And in the end...Someone Else took that burden. For themselves. For others. For her.
They took a deep breath. And returned to their pod.
The borgs needed her.
The Kommandant was dead. Long live the Commander.
The commander was till in her other side's uniform. Guards shifted uneasily looking at the NT finery. She was directed to the main room. He was laid out on the table. As was customary. She often forgot how his face looked. How he'd grown older.
It was a warm up exercise. It was procedure. He didn't like to take stations with explosions. He liked to cause a retreat. Bring in the teams. Sweep out any scragglers. Strip everything of use. It was a normal procedure. He was at zero risk.
But maybe. Just maybe...he'd gotten a taste for it again. Doing the detective work. Glorified bounty hunting..the way he did it. Maybe it got his old blood going again. And then he heard a podwars veteran was there.
And he had to show off. Had to gloat. And flex. And ever the cheater he had all the cards. The victory was swift simple and decisive and witnessed by the station.
And he legitimately hadn't expected a second attacker joining with a ship capable of pursuit of his souped up screaming engine.
Arrogant
Cocky
Lazy
Dead
He drilled those words into her every day.
And he died by them.
They took the mask with shaking hands. From number 3 to number 1 and 1/2...the overseer was still the boss..and his now Widow...but military commands now came from her. His gun was slipped from his service pouch. And slid into her own, the old one tossed to the side like so much refuse.
The troops saluted as she sat in his chair at the end of the table.
They both felt empty inside.
"Everyone is waiting to shoot you in the back. Nobody ever helps anyone else unless is for a reason."
He always wanted her to do it. To strike him down. To be just like him.
And in the end...Someone Else took that burden. For themselves. For others. For her.
They took a deep breath. And returned to their pod.
The borgs needed her.
The Kommandant was dead. Long live the Commander.