28. Beneath these hands
Beneath these hands rumbled the means to his revenge. Her death was assured with every stroke of his armrests, with every shake and rattle of his ship, every dent and hole punched through her walls. He promised himself this as he stared ahead, listening to the sounds of the bridge – Wina's clear voice relaying flares, coordinates, and messages - bequeathing another caress to the padded metal under his palm. The ship shook moderately from an off-port explosion; a Starship had been introduced to the latest additions to Silverna. A light stroke from his thumb and another explosion rocked the ship, as if will transferred by touch alone; as if his hands were conducting an orchestral movement in the sky, a rhapsody of metal and blood trading leading symphonic strains in attempt to break free from the harmony and the other fighting to maintain it.
His hands never wavered. But even so, hers were always there ready to catch the baton should his falter.