When the ocean meets fire

~~~~~~~~~~~~Terror~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well that was easy. The crew of Starship 48 C9 had just loaded back onto it and were preparing to take off to their next planet, which would take them a few weeks to do. They all felt in relatively high spirits, as the mission they’d just finished was a great success: all they’d had to do was find and lock up a bunch of naive idiotas who thought that they’d decide to promote the robots’ legacy from the robot wars- which was in fact, nothing. However the orders had been to hand anyone or anything supporting ‘the other side’ of the robot wars to the local police, or to destroy them if they were aliens. There had been no casualties- on either side (something which Commander Hibbart was pleased about, but not so much Lieutenant Taz), and they’d done it in a few days. Now the planet Weeziper was at peace again, and the crew had a few days to kill before they were meant to be arriving at their next planet.

Being a fairly small crew, they eventually found that they had to talk to each other to pass the time, or they would all go insane. So they all were gathered in the tiny dining area and were sharing and listening to each other’s stories- well, gossiping really. It was all really inane conversation, until Private Spokes brought the one member of the crew who had decided not to join them’s past up.

“So guys,” he said in a hushed voice and leaning in, still fearing her even though she was in her room down the corridor, “what’s the deal with Lieutenant Taz?”

“What do you mean?” asked the Commander, who had been sitting back in his chair, not really listening to the conversation until now.

“Well, she’s all weird and stuff: she never talks to us, and when we try to talk to her about going back to the base she yells at us to go away, and you know she stabbed me and Speller.” He gestured to his friend sitting to his left and the others nodded.

“Well son, I’m not really supposed to tell you this, but I think that’s her way of dealing with the fact that she’s missing her... friend, Commander Up.”

“Commander Up?” Ensign Timmy blurted out, chuckling, “I heard those two were... you know...”

“Yeah well I heard when he got injured in the robot wars,” Private Speller sniggered, “he had an operation, and now he’s got no b-”

Private Speller was suddenly up against a wall with a knife holding him there by the shirt, and the force of one petite Mexican Lieutenant pressing his shoulders against the wall so much that he was sure he’d have bruises soon. His smirk turned quickly and almost comically to utter terror when he realised who’d been listening to him.

Lieutenant Taz had her death glare on full power, and it was taking all her power not to stab him right there and then, but they needed the numbers for their mission. Instead she decided it would be best to make his life hell by making him live in fear that she was going to stab him every day.

“Don’t. Jou. Dare. Speak about him. Ever. Again.” Her voice was a whisper, lulling him into a false sense of security, “OR I WILL STAB JOU AGAIN SO JOU HAVE A MILLION ONES TO MATCH DE ONE ON JOUR BACK!” He jumped and looked like he was about to pee himself when she suddenly rammed the volume up. “NOW GO AND GET RID OF ALL DE ESTUPIDA RUMOURS JOU THINK JOU’VE HEARD!” She ripped the knife out of his shirt and he started a panicked run out of the door. Before he reached it, she called him back,

“And Speller?” he turned around, only to meet her fist in his face. He let out a whimper of pain before pelting out of the dining area, not wanting his fellow crew members to see him cry.

She turned to the rest of the crew, who all had the same expression of terror on their faces, par Hibbart who was shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

“Lieutenant Taz, may I remind you that we need the numbers for our next mission? We don’t want to be at any disadvantage, and I don’t think you’re setting a very good example to the rest of the team.” She rolled her eyes, not bothering about manners; they were in space and she wanted to show that she was annoyed.

“With all due respect, Commander, I believe that people should stick up for those whose names are being dragged through de dirt.” She worded it as professionally as she could, but made her emotions very clear. Hibbart sighed before replying.

“Fair point. Now, Lieutenant, I’m sure you have quite a few stories to tell!” Wrong thing to say, hijo de puta. A wave of the emotions from her past, the robot wars, and her Quinceañera flooded through her, and instantly she felt claustrophobic in the small ship.

“No.” she replied simply, and dodged any more questions by bolting out of the door and back to her room.

“That Commander...uh Commander Up, eh?” Private Spokes was cautious to say his name, “why is she so attached to him?” Hibbart took a deep breath before replying, so quietly it could’ve been to himself.

“He taught her everything she knows.”