Ichor

Captain (Part II)

Year 6 - Captain
Planet Kurak

° ° ° °

Twenty-four lashes. Twenty-four marks against Nilsson's bared back. The man yelled out in pain with the first one, and he started sobbing by the tenth. It was clear he had never experienced hardship in his life. Percy was merciless with the whip. He didn't pause longer than five seconds between each hit. The whole ordeal took three minutes at most. He then ordered Nilsson restrained and put in the truck, ready for transport. The others began to head that way too, thinking it was over. But the thing Percy announced next left soldier and civilian alike in bewilderment and disbelief.

"Before we depart, one more punishment must be given." Everyone stopped to look back at their captain and wondered who else was to be punished. "Lieutenant Feal, please take the whip." Mason did what he was told, confusion lining his frown. "For my negligence and irresponsibility. For failing in my duties as your captain, you will administer twelve lashes to my back."

Murmurs arose from all around. His lieutenants adamantly protesting the order.

"Sir, this is not necessary."

"You have done nothing wrong, Captain. Don't do this."

"Captain Ichor," Mason pleaded, "I can't do that to you. I won't."

"Lieutenant Feal, are you too going to disobey my orders? I should sincerely hope not after the demonstration I just gave." Percy's tone was biting, but his eyes were apologetic. He knew this had to be done, and he hoped Mason would understand why.

"Captain," Mason tried one last time.

"Lieutenant," Percy said indifferently, voice unwavering.

Without waiting for further protest, Percy removed his own shirt and grabbed hold of the post. Looks of horror, gasps of shock, and a few more statements of protest fell upon deaf ears. They saw first hand the already scarred back their captain wore. Jagged white lines from past fights to harsh marks from repeated beatings littered his skin. This was the back of a survivor. Someone who had struggled yet kept pushing. Someone who lived against all odds. This was someone who had already felt enough pain for a lifetime, yet welcomed more if it meant owning up to his mistakes and gaining the trust of others.

Percy didn't look back but shouted over his shoulder in a clipped tone, "Lieutenant. Twelve lashes. That's an order."

Mason prayed to Chaos that he didn't hurt his friend too badly, but he knew better than to hold back on the lashes. Percy would just order him to administer more. Mason also prayed that his friend would not hate him after this, for he would surely hate himself.

The first strike hit right between his shoulder blades. Percy flinched but made no cry of pain. Halfway through and Percy was still standing strong, only letting out the occasional grunt to accompany heavy breathing. Much the same could be said for the second half. On the last hit, however, Mason accidentally landed on a previous welt, which split the skin. Not even Nilsson's skin split because Percy made sure to separate where the lashes fell. But Mason didn't have as much control wielding a whip as Percy had. It was then that Percy notably hissed as blood trickled down his back. Mason dropped the whip as if it burned and rushed to his friend.

"Ichor! Ichor, are you alright?!"

Percy straightened and turned to face his comrades. None would meet his eye. Not out of pity but out of respect. They held so much respect for their captain now that they didn't feel worthy enough to make eye contact. Especially not those who were in Nilsson's squad.

"Fine, Feal. Thank you. Could I have your canteen?"

Mason handed over his water canteen as fast as he could. Percy unscrewed the cap and let a small stream of the water flow up into the air. Mesmerizingly, the water inched towards his back and healed where it touched skin. A new scar formed, but the blood was no longer there. With that, Percy gave the order to move out.