Themes Used: Failure, Duty, Tea
1.5 The Order of Things
Things were much simpler once they returned to the shelter of the zeppelin. Butler followed, listening to the fat man, who was eventually named Major by context.
There was war. There would be war. Everyone who came would die. Everyone on the ground would die. Butler listened, and learned, and drew from it an understanding of his role in things.
Angel.
In the context of what he had witnessed from the air, and the satisfaction he had felt in destroying that helicopter without any effort at all, war was all Butler knew of the world.
He was not in danger, he understood; he was a danger.
And all he had to do was wait, and they'd send him out to enjoy more of war. The promise was implicit in the way the Major spoke, in the way Doc looked at him, in the chirruping comments of the little Warrant Officer.
When you perform your duty…
It will do as programmed…
He's going to make confetti!
No one needed to do something so base as tell Butler he would be going down to the ground to fight. All knew it. You do not tell a hammer before you pick it up that you are going to use it. Butler understood that he was another tool. Doc had said as much.
It was nothing but a way to pass the time between now and then to follow the requests for refreshments for the fat man's dinner theater.
His first attempt was a surprising failure.
"Tea? What am I? Some Engländer?"
Tea had simply seemed like the most natural thing to choose when he was in the galley getting the Major the drink and sandwich he had requested.
Not tea, then. Cocoa. Butler stored the information away as he returned to the galley to make a more suitable drink for the Major.
The hand that pushed the galley door closed behind him was attached to a long arm and an even longer body that Butler recognized even without memory to go with the sense of recollection. It was not a pleasant frisson of identification, but a sudden blaze of recognition born out of hate.
Return.
He lashed out to hit the man and fell forward on his hands as the spasms of agony stole control of his muscles from him. This time they did not cut off as quickly and Butler curled around the pain in a silent ball of anguish until the big man pushed an intercom button on the wall and said, "Enough."
Doc's voice crackled out of the speaker, "Yes, Captain. I leave him in your care. You may punish him for failing this test, but do not cause lasting damage."
Finally, the pain stopped and Butler uncurled. His muscles still spasming and twitching, he pushed himself shakily upright and looked at the big man with a blank face that concealed his hostility. His fingers opened and closed unconsciously while he and the Captain stared each other down.
Return.
He'd been here before. With this man.
And he had failed. He knew this in his soul.
If others feared him…
Butler stilled the shaking of his muscles with an effort of will.
If others feared him and he had failed with this man…
Butler opened his hands at his sides and let his fingers relax. This one was beyond him and had the support of the one who held his controls in the most literal sense. He would be punished and he would not forget.