World In Turmoil

37: Averse and Overse

As golden rays scrolled across the mighty flanks of that Orion-Class Ferolder, and as the two vast opposing forces, held each other at arm's length. One voice loud, smouldering and yet clear  said:

"CLOSE THAT DAMN LINK!"

"Emel Captain."

"VAN NASTO KARNATAKA DO NON!"

"From quickly. Or your life will cease to be."
As it stood badly translated.

In a ragged fit, Redforest swirled around himself in a fiery haze as he grappled with his mind. Grappled with his thoughts. His Captain fatigues swirling in the cold air of the Command Center as his officers all and each locked their eyes ahead to their consoles, daring not to give him more reason to cave to his inner animal.

His mind was ablaze.
His senses were shattered.
His consciousness was failing.

Yet. In some corner of his mind a word stirred.

A word of training, or perhaps from his very soul.

Calm.

He froze, eyes glaring down to his quivering gloved fingers as his training finally attempted to bring peace to his psyche.

The world had lied to him.
His superior, lied to him.
Blood and turmoil all around him.

He looked to the faces of his officers.
His skilled, trained brothers and sisters of war.
Nothing was ever left for them.
Nothing. Could ever be left for them after those orders.

How could there be?

They were murderer to any normal person...

The world we protected was on fire.

Tears.
Somehow more tears came flowing like lava from his eyes burning his very face with a passion for revenge that had never ever stirred within him. Pure rage coursing through his bones, the shuddering feeling of lost power sending his muscles into a spasm of shivers.
Not a weak whimpering cry, but a heated fury fueled sob of steel proportions.
There was nothing he could do.
Or have done.

No...

There was no protocol to follow when one's own admiral had deceived him.

There was no order to guide him now.

He was lied to.

He was used.

For some god-forsaken pleasure of an evil he had never known.

Revanna...

This world was on fire.
Because he followed the orders of a harlot.

And now, what turning back was there?

...He must look one last time.

He let his hands fall with a cold grace to his side, and lifted his eyes to the front of the bridge. Steel sight penetrated the vast armoured glass that granted view out onto the stretching mammoth of war that spanned for kilometers into the distance.

Such a machine of war, so rare, and invaluable.
So easily turned against it's own.
So easily used for war...

As was it's purpose...

His voice, could not speak, and try as he might his words failed to form even in the mouth. Even his tongue caught itself in the act of forming a bare letter.

He forced a cough from his lungs that sent him hunching over as the force of it pulled him down. Hunched like some terrified child, he breathed a deep cold breath. The slow inhale the slow expulsion like a soft breeze in the middle of a mighty storm.