Gordon AI once asked me when is this story is going to end, but truth be told, I don't know IF it's going to end: every time I think I've worked out how to bring it to it's conclusion, more plot-bunny's pop up, and it get bigger, more complex.
Echoes of future past, part 41
Beka's legs gave out, forcing Tyr to grab her before she hit the deck. Charlemagne felt ill at ease, "Look, I only found out two days ago: I'm sure the Drago's don't know anything about the two of you." He said, trying to be reassuring.
"The Drago-Kazov Pride is not going to hurt you, your baby, or anybody else on this ship."
The voice made Beka, Tyr and Charlemagne spin round: Dylan stood in the hatchway, his eye as cold and hard as tempered steel, completely devoid of any human emotion, except an all consuming hate that seemed to come from the very core of his being. Beka managed to stand, "Dylan, you should be in medical: the doctors haven't released you yet." His eyes burned right through her like blowtorches, "This is MY ship! MY command! And it will be a cold day in hell when let a bastard like Ataturk take her from me, not while there is still breath left in my body!"
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Trance felt like the universe was being pulled inside out. She tried to yell to Rev Bem, but the air was sucked from her lungs by the vortex created by the Engine of Creation. The devise it's self was no longer visible: where it had been was a pulsating light that drew her towards it like a siren song, willing her to let go, calling her into it's depths.
The straps holding Rommie to the bunk started to loosen as the drag on her body increases, taking the thick marital to its limits. With a loud snap, the first snap gave way, and Trance watched on in terror her friend was pulled across the room and disappeared into the light. Rev Bem felt his fingers slip on the smooth metal of the hatchway. He closed his eyes, and consigning his fate to divine will, let go. Trance, suddenly alone, decided that the universe would take care of its self. Letting go, she fell into the light.
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Beka was having a hard time keeping up with Dylan's swift pace as he stalked to command, his face set like hardest granite, "Dylan, you're being emotional right now, and that's not a good thing right before we go into battle!" The High Guard Captain ignored her, and started to climb a ladder leading up through the decks.
Tyr grabbed Dylan by the shoulders, "Listen to me: I can't understand how you feel, I've never been through a similar situation, but this is not a wise course of action. You are letting your grief and guilt could your judgment, and that is playing right into Ataturk's hands! Just stop and think about this for one minuet." For a moment, it looked like Dylan was listing to the tall Nietzschean.
Then, quick as a rattlesnake, his head moved back then forwards, his forehead slamming into Tyr's nose, shattering the cartilage with a loud crack.
Try fell like a puppet whose strings had been suddenly cut, landing on the deck with a thump. Beka ran to his side, helping him up into a sitting position. The tactical officers hand moved up to his bleeding nose, shocked by the speed and viciousness of the attack. Dylan turned to look at Charlemagne, "You got anything you want to add?" The Sabra-Jaguar Arch-Duke took a half-step back, "Only that being in touch of your emotions is said to be good for you." Dylan's face didn't change, "Andromeda tells me we are out of missile." Charlemagne nodded, "I'll have my ship's send over as many as they can." Without a second glance, Dylan stalked of to command.
Charlemagne looked don at Tyr; "Now there goes a man I'd not want to face in battle right now."
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Trance felt herself floating, completely surrounded by light. She could not tell how far the void extended: it was completely featureless, the lighting universal, without shadows. She had an odd sensation, like her body was spinning slowly, and for some strange reason, she felt safe. Her mind drifted, and she found herself thinking of Harper, wondering how he was and what he was doing: despite everything she had seen and experienced in her long life, the thought of being back with Harper made heel feel warm and happy.
A voice echoed through her mind, "You have chosen well, Del-Rak of the House of Chellran: as promised, your hearts true desire shall be yours."
To Be Continued
