Here There Be Monsters...
31 Jul 2017Rex Snipes
Eta Cassiopeiae, Kessel Silo, Docking Pad 08:Snipes ambled down the dark corridors of his old RimLiner Galactic Anaconda, Mulo Sumadji, unbuttoning the stiff Federal officer uniform and trying to forget the long day of low-grav combat training the new MARSOC candidates. No one besides himself had walked these halls in centuries, and he preferred it that way.
He stepped through the hatch into his old family crew cabin with everything always in its particular place. The food and water dispensers for his long gone wolves, Sirius and Regulus, empty and in the corner. Stuffed animals lying on the end of the bed. He tossed his jacket on the edge of his stiff rack, and shuffled toward the head for hygiene upkeep.
He washed his face in the sink, then took a long hard look at the man in the mirror with the dark circles under his eyes. Looking past himself in the mirror reflection behind him, two stuffed tigers were set near where he had tossed the jacket on the bed. He would usually hug them until he passed out.
He put some drops into his eyes to try to get them to stop itching from their bloodshot state, and when his vision cleared, he was sitting by a campfire, looking up at the stars with his wife.
Damn, still the most gorgeous girl in the galaxy. The campfire seemed to dance in her eyes as she punched him in the side. "I said I love you, ya dork!"
He rubbed his side, looking deep into those amber eyes, "Yeah? And why is that?" He wrapped his arms around her, the smell of her hair intoxicating him.
She looked up at him, eternity bound within this moment, "Well you are pretty good-lookin', but mostly, because you are strong, sweet, and kind..."
...and kind...
The words echoed through his ears as he was torn back to reality.
He narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow at the man in the mirror, flashing into another memory, this one having been a "triumph."
The Fusiliers had performed beautifully distracting the system authority vessels in the skirmish outside of Payette, the controlling bastion of Terminus. So well, that station control did not even notice the silent running matte black corvette drifting meters above its surface for a brief moment. That was all that it took for the battalion of Cerberus assault troops to jump jet to the station's surface and begin to set breaching charges before the corvette lit up its power plant and joined the fight. The silent blast rocked the battle ready troops as the unsuspecting poor souls just inside the bulkhead were vented into the void.
They worked quickly and silently, fanning out into the station to take security checkpoints. Snipes made a dead heading toward the administrator's office, blasting or cutting down station officers along the way with a plasma repeater or its arc-plasma bayonet as several Fusilier ships took control of the docking platforms and debarked into the station. The office hatch now only meters away, Snipes overcharged the repeater and blasted apart the door panel. He pulled out his trusty old sidearm as he stepped through.
Snipes' finger slowly slid across the trigger, the barrel of the ancient gunpowder pistol focused squarely between the eyes of the simpering fool of a Federal magistrate.
"You've already taken the system, why are you doing this to the people of this station?" Beads of sweat rolled down the station admin's poorly concealed receding hairline.
The pistol's firing pin primed to release. "I'm doing them a favor. You lack honor, but more importantly, conviction."
The concussive boom of the shot rang down the corridor outside the office as a man in a gleaming black Remlock suit appeared. Carrying several bottles of Old Sol and Lavian Brandy into the Administration Office he casually hopped over the station guards sprawled near the doorway.
He carried the bottles over to the state room's fine mahogany conference table for the arriving Fusilier and Cerberus officers. A slight "tsk" slipped from his mouth as he inspected Snipes' work.
"I should've brought cleaning supplies. Nice shot, by the way. Was never a fan of getting spaced by a misplaced gunshot." Phisto smirked, popped the top off the brandy, and proceeded to pour it along the fine gold rimmed goblets around the table.
Snipes turned towards Phisto. "I was delicate. I don't miss. Usually."
Phisto chuckled, his voice smooth yet sparkling with excitement. "Indeed," he set down the bottle and picked up a glass for himself, "I need a drink."
Snipes unintentionally cracked a small smile. "Yeah, me too."
I hate you. Snipes glared at the visage almost mocking him in the mirror.
...and kind...
Tears began to burn at the edges of his eyes.
His mind flashed to InGaBa and Ms. Morgan's announcing, "This is Kat von Steuben, she recently committed a heinous terrorist attack against civilians in the Pegasi sector and needs to answer for her crimes."
Apollonia's nervous glance burned deep into his mind.
Murderer.
...and kind...
This isn't you, Frank. The tears rolled down his rough cheek.
He stumbled back out of the head into the cabin, barely managing to see through the veil of water inundating his eyes.
He tripped and fell onto the deck. On the floor in front of him, partially obscured under the rack and a storage drawer, was one of his wife's favorite nightgowns. How have I not seen this until now? He frantically grasped at the clothing, pulled it close to his chest, and sobbed until he fell asleep.
((Thanks to Phisto and Marra for the feedback and confidence to post!))