Rogue Ops 5 - Depression
27 Nov 2018Leon Falkner
0407, May 30 3304Ho Hsien
Dutton Station - Federal Black Site
No one moved. Leon could feel sweat dripping down the back of his neck.
“They’re not going to shoot me, you idiot.” Agent said. “You’re an insane man who’s come here to die and we’ll be glad to oblige.”
“Then your men had better be willing to die for it.” Leon said. There was a cold edge to his voice. “Just like my father.”
A younger man rounded the corner. “All the doors are sealed, and there’s… there’s cargo cans in all the main rooms.” He said in a half whisper to what Leon thought was a superior. In the tense silence, he might have just shouted it.
Leon snuck a glance at the squad of agents. All had guns drawn, ostensibly pointed right at him, but some were throwing side glances at each other. That was exactly what he needed to see.
“Someone get that detonator! Now!” The lead agent’s shout reverberated in the small space. Two men shuffled forward. Leon turned to look at them. He knew them. They had brought him food during his internment.
“Milo Falkner,” Leon said. The two men stopped. “Captain, served with distinction for twenty five years. Served aboard seven different vessels. One Distinguished Service Medal. He kept in in the cabinet behind the liquor.” No one moved. “You cut him down like nothing. That man was a hero to the Federation. And you shot him in the back. At his orders.” Leon turned towards the lead agent. “Are you willing to die for that man?”
“Lies. All of it.” The men shifted.
Leon had made a gamble. A desperate one. He stared right at the agent, accepting whatever would happen next.
A bright flash bathed the hallways in red.
Leon opened his eyes. The Lead agent slumped, clutching a smoking chest. He watched as his breathing slowed and then stopped.
He wanted to feel joy, elation, vindication, the sweet taste of victory. Leon felt nothing instead. He tossed the detonator in the air behind him. It didn’t matter anymore. This whole plan was stupid, stupid and childish. The squad scrambled to catch it. Someone took a potshot that sailed wide over his shoulder.
“You’re under arrest! You-”
“This thing is still going! We have to get out of here!” With that, the doors slid open. The men took one look at the lone commander with the dead body and made the logical decision. The hallway now emptied, Leon walked in a haze back to the ship he had used to sneak in under the federal cordon. He was traversing the airlock when the station rocked and sirens blared. There was a fire out of control in sector 17.
He had done it. Revenge. Served hot and fresh.
Nothing felt right. There was a blinking hail on his panel. Leon ignored it and banked the ship away from the station. There was nothing more he needed to do here. There was one task left.