Commander's Rounds Volume 1

Entry 25: Someone Quiet

Tennessee looked with some concern at her watch, and with even more at the commander.

Massachusetts, who had just arrived at the exercise field, noticed this and walked over to her fellow battleship. "Problem?"

Tennessee shook her head. "The commander is overdoing it. He might think he's proving he can go past certain limits, but right now he may just be hurting himself."

"Oh." She watched the commander at work. It was obvious that he was running on the fume of a fume, but he wasn't letting up. "Have you told him to take a break?"

"I have." Tennessee sighed. "But he can get carried away with himself- he has plenty of determination, but good sense can be another matter- he thinks this is showing he's not a burden to us, but..."

"I see." Massachusetts watched. "...He won't stop on his own?"

Tennessee gave a nod. "He won't."

"Ah." Massachusetts then threw her jacket aside and went on the track herself.

The commander was doing his laps, and he was certainly not in the right frame of mind or body to be doing so, so Massachusetts ran behind him. "Commander. Stop."

He continued to run, or make some manner of attempt at running, and so she continued, coming up beside him. "Commander. Stop." But he didn't seem to listen.

So Massachusetts took long strides with her strong legs and ran ahead of him. "Commander." She moved in and intercepted the commander, scooping him up off of his feet and into her arms putting him into what was commonly called the bridal or princess carry. "Stop."

The commander took deep, almost painful breaths as he was hauled up. He looked up at Massachusetts. "What are you doing?"

"Commander, you're going to hurt yourself."

The commander paused for a moment. "I'm ordering you to put me down."

"I won't."

He was dumbstruck "You what?!"

She spoke in her usual soft, quiet voice. "Do you really think you'd be able to stand up on your legs, if I put you down?"

The commander took stock of how he was. He was already beginning to ache, and that would certainly only get work, and his legs especially now felt like noodles now that the adrenaline had worn off. If she put him down on his feed, he would very quickly end up on his knees. "...No."

She gave him a nod. "Commander, you need to go home and rest. And I will carry you there."

Massachusetts started moving with the commander in her arms, and he was almost in awe at the great care that the amazon of a battleship took with carrying him. He sighed. "The other ships are going to tease me so much about this."

"They won't." She easily carried him off of the training field. "I won't let them."

While Massachusetts refused to obey his order, the commander couldn't bring himself to punish her over it. As it began to set in how badly he had beaten himself up on the way back home, he accepted that she had acted to save him from himself, and so his only response was to just curl up against the battleship and allow himself to be carried home.

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In the present, the commander woke up on a couch-bed somewhere. He knew that he was inside his home and headquarters, and he also knew that New Years' Eve had come and went. It was a generally more chaotic affair than the Christmas celebration as everyone was generally left to their own devices on how to gather and have fun. Whatever happened, he somehow made it back to his home with all of his clothes. This meant that he got to play the game he did on every New Year's morning since he assumed command.