Disclaimer: Sorry, don't own 'em. Not that I wouldn't use one of my three wishes to make them mine, but alas, I have no magic lamp. So don't sue me.
We Regret To Inform You...
"We regret to inform you..." No, that wasn't right.
"Last Tuesday, December 19, your son, Lieutenant James Brody, was killed while on a rescue mission..." That wasn't right either. Captain Oliver Hudson crumpled up yet another sheet of paper, adding it to the large collection in various states of dissarray surrounding his wastebasket. He hated this part of his job. The only downside to being a sub captin in the UEO was ultimately being responsible for every life under his command. That meant taking the responsability when one of them died, like Jim Brody.
On one hand, Brody had died a hero. He had given himself for the greater good of his country and confederation. Hudson would want that kind of death-a hero's death; a noble death.
But was there such a thing? Was there noblility in death? Noble or not, Jim Brody had left a hole in his ship. Hudson didn't like holes. It made them weak, and no ship under his command was going to be weak. Yet, here they were, desperately trying to fix the hole left by the loss of a friend.
Hudson had always believed that the men and women in the service knew the risks when they signed up. He had always consoled himslef that way, by telling himself that they all knew what could happpen. Hell, they were on the brink of war! War, for Christ's sake! In war, people die, plain and simple. It had been that way throughout history, and would stay thay way untill the end of time.
"Freedom is not free." But that didn't make the hole any easier to patch.
His ship was leaking, and he knew it. Only this time, it was leaking tears.