OOC: here it goes *gulp*

malystryx was finally allowed out of medical after nearly killing a med tech with her knife. as she was wandering towards the hanger bay when her way was blocked by a blast door.

malys: f*uck
nearby tech: do you need help?
malys: yeah, how do i get to the hanger bay?
tech: well you need to take the left corridor back there, take your first left, then a right, two more lefts and down the lift and you should be there
malys: err...ok... i'll try

after taking the tech's directions she got thoroughly lost and wandered about until she ended up in a familiar cargo bay. there again was the mysterious kusari fighter. as she aprouched it she noticed that there was a a sleek, predetor look about it. she climbed up the side of the fighter and found that their was even a helmet in the cockpit that is odd.. malys thought it is fully activated .
she climbed in and looked about. it was a small fighter. she set the helmet on her head, it was a perfect fit. suddenly the cockpit canopy closed with a hiss and the controls lit up ohh sh*it .....

BEWARE PETTY HUMAN, FOR YOU ARE CHEWY AND GOOD WITH KETCHUP!!!

leader of the dom kavosh dragons

all systems online, charging phase drive said the computer
malys: abort! abort! crap hw do you shut this thing down?!?!

malys starts to frantically push buttons until her hand accidentally brushed a buttton labelled actv phsdrv. the ship suddenly gave a learch and everything went black. a second later the fighter rematerialized 3k off the bow of the arizona . the com waves were shattered by the sound of the malystryx screaming...

OOC: hoped that worked *gulp*

BEWARE PETTY HUMAN, FOR YOU ARE CHEWY AND GOOD WITH KETCHUP!!!

leader of the dom kavosh dragons

OOC:Okay here's what I planned to do with Wendell and Carina. Nick can you change the reference to Carina in your post back to Wendell?

Lutz smiled and shrugged. "Well, sir, this all started when the small group of Liberty and Kusari freelancers went after a pirate den we suspected of having a secret Liberty weapon called the Fireblade."

The Bretonia captain, McCall, nodded. "Our people have gotten us photos and intelligence on these weapons."

Lutz nodded. "You're going to find a couple on this ship.'" McCall raised an eyebrow. "Anyways after we took out this pirate den, which was really just a front for the Liberty and Rheinland military in the area, three of our guys got captured by this ship. They escaped, and we attacked it. We left it for dead, but the Junkers...”

McCall held up a hand. "I think I can estimate the rest, sir." He smirked. "The Junkers with a battleship...that's a frightening proposition, but a welcome one at the moment. I say..." McCall was interrupted when a junior officer burst into the room. McCall gave the young ensign a good look. The ensign was shocked and slightly dismayed. "Yes, Mr. Carr?"

The ensign took a breath. "Sir, the King is making an address over the Colony News Network. He...he...he's surrendering...sir."

McCall looked down at his desk a moment and then back up at the ensign. "Pipe it through to my screen." McCall looked up at his guests. "You might want to come around this side. This is a fateful and ominous message. After you listen to it, you'd best be off. I'll forget I saw you...for a while."

Washington nodded. "Thank you, Captain." McCall dismissed it with a wave as the screen in his desk lit up and showed the flashy logo of the Colony News Network, CNN.
The logo disappeared and thin and wiry man stood on a balcony over-looking a large square filled with people. The camera panned over the ground which looked anxious and unsure. The camera panned back to the man on the balcony. A closer looked at the man's face was almost comical. The man had big ears that stuck out a bit.

The words at the bottom of the screen introduced the speaker as King Wendell, ruler of Bretonia. King Wendell looked down at his teleprompter for a moment and then cleared his throat. "Bretonia, my subjects, this is a hard and trying time for our people. On our borders lie two great fleets. In the north the Rheinland fleet encroaches upon the Leeds system. In the east, the forces of Liberty wait to strike into Manchester."

He stopped for a moment to read the teleprompter again. "We are...a proud people, a strong people. With those in mind...my heart grows heavy in the face of the decision I must make. We can not hope to hold out alone against the combined forces of Rheinland and Liberty. So as your king, I have offered the surrender of the Bretonia's armed forces and territory to the President of Liberty and Chancellor of Rheinland. All Bretonian military and police are to stand down and not challenge any of the...occupying forces."

The noise outside the scope of the camera grew. The camera panned around to view the crowd. Most were in a state of shock. Some were even crying, including one of the normally immovable palace guards. The camera shifted to an angry knot of people. They were five people in the uniforms of the Bretonian Armed Forces. They were distraught and a couple of them getting angrier by the moment. A female in the group pushed one of her companions and climbed up on a light post nearby. She shook her fist at the balcony that contained the king and began booing her monarch. Soon the other soldiers joined in the booing. That spread across gathered crowd which quickly turned ugly (but when has a crowd ever turned pretty?).

Wendell looked nervously over the crowd. A couple of men in the uniforms of admirals and ministers came out onto the balcony. An admiral leaned into Wendell and whispered in the monarch’s ear. The admiral was too quiet for the camera to pick up, but Wendell wasn’t. “Fire into the...?” Wendell pointed to the crowd. The admiral nodded and went to explain further. Wendell looked at the boiling mob, very scared. He nodded, and the admiral rushed through the balcony door and into the palace. King Wendell turned back to the crowd and spread his arms and motioned down in a attempt to quiet and calm them. He tried to yell over the crowd about how he did this in their best interests and to save the lives of his subjects.

The crowd didn’t calm and was beating against the palace gates. The guards in front of the gates had joined the crowd either agreeing with them or not wishing to be lynched. The guards inside the palace compound were unsure. They didn’t know what quite what to do; they really didn’t want to fire on their fellow Bretonians like this.

The camera panned across the crowd as King Wendell nervously tried to defuse the situation. The camera’s audio pickups picked up a loud female voice arguing and panned back to Wendell. Everyone on the balcony had turned and was looking at the closed door in the room beyond balcony. The woman’s heated argument was muffled by the door, but she was very angrier. A man joined in more softly. The woman’s voice quieted, and a muffled laser blast came from the other side of the door.

The large wooden doors flung open, and a guard slumped in with a smoking pit in his stomach. An armed crowd of uniformed soldiers, commanders, and politicians stepped over the guard led by a furious woman in house coat with a smoking laser pistol in her fist. The woman’s short black hair bounced slightly as she stalked up to Wendell. Her youthful but weathered features were twisted in a fury that did nothing to hurt her beauty if not add to it.

Wendell backed up to the balcony rail and raised his arms. “Car-carina, darling, what are you doing?”

Queen Carina got right up in Wendell’s face. “You told me to take a nap, sweety . You said I’d have nothing to worry about! I’m damned fortunate my guards were watching a rugby game when you broke in!” She was getting angrier by the second and shaking in fury.

Wendell was conscience of her anger, and the pistol she still possessed. “What are you going to do, Carina?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Save my people. I won’t let you do this to them. I caught your puppeteer on his way to the barracks. John!” A soldier pushed through Carina’s escort. He was a dark skinned man. His looks more fitted someone from Kusari than Bretonia, but his patches and insignia identified him as a sergeant in the Ghurka Brigade, one of Bretonia’s most elite units with a history all the way back to Earth. The Ghurka smiled coldly and tossed something at Wendell’s feet. The king paled, and the camera panned down and focused on the severed head of the admiral that had suggested firing into the crowd.

Wendell sputtered as the Ghurka wickedly cleaned the long knife his people were famed to wield. Carina ground her teeth subtly as she looked over Wendell’s fear-stricken face. “I didn’t marry you because I really loved you, Wendell. I married you because my mother wished to see me married before she died. My mum knew your father. He was a good man. But you…my mother didn’t make a mistake; you are the mistake.”

She left out an angry breath and turned away from Wendell. She walked away a few steps and turned back to the king. “My mum hoped our marriage would lead to good things for Bretonia. I let you; let you have power. For pure traditions of kings like my father and his before him. But you…you were too easily steered. By me,” She waved her gun at the ministers and officers with Wendell. “By them. I pushed you to stand up for yourself. But it was just me pushing you.”

She stepped closer to Wendell. “Stand up to me, Wendell. Stand up to me. Stand up to someone.” Wendell didn’t move, looking between Carina and his advisors. Carina rolled her eyes. “Stand up for something, you cur!” Wendell flinched but didn’t move. Carina sighed and turned away from Wendell. She looked down at the admiral’s head. “Guards, seize this man, this pretender to the throne.”

Carina was still looking at the head as her guards pushed past her and took Wendell by the arms. He didn’t speak up or resist as the moved him back into the palace. The former king’s advisors were worried and skittish. One voice spoke out. “Carina, you cannot do this!”

Carina looked up and over at the man in a expensive suit. She straightened her house coat. “Address me as your Majesty. And what can I not do? I am Queen. This title was passed down to me from my father King George the Twentieth. My ex -husband was misusing the crown I relinquished voluntarily to him. Now, I am taking it back. The old Kings used to believe that we ruled by divine right. Ever since we fled Earth do you know how we have ruled?”

Carina pointed with her free hand to unruly mob. “We rule by popular right! When we touched down on this planet, the people, Bretonians, choose a monarchy. And I will not be deluded to rule counter to what they really want. Their “best interests” isn’t always what they want! Guards! Take these traitors too!” Guards grabbed Wendell’s advisors and dragged them after their “king.”

Carina looked around as they left, taking stock. She looked down. “JOHN! Take this one too!” The smiling Ghurka came back and picked up the head and retreated with other guards. Carina stood there for a moment and then shook her head.

She looked at the soldiers and officials with her. They looked determined, but approval shown in their faces. She nodded and handed her pistol over to an admiral who took it with a bow. Carina turned towards the balcony and walked up to the audio pickups that Wendell had spoken into only a little while before. She looked at the camera for a second and then down at the crowd. The camera panned down to follow her gave.

The crowd had bent the gates in a little but had stopped and was watching her and the large monitors broadcasting the speech. Carina looked over the crowd and took a deep breath. “Bretonia. Bretonia, I must apologize. I must apologize for the neglect I’ve dealt you. I’d hoped my husband would rise to the occasion. I had talked to him night after night trying to convince him to defend you. But he choose a path in your ‘best interest.’ But he was wrong; I was wrong.”

Carina looked over the crowd and found the knot of soldiers that had riled the crowd. They had pushed up to the front of the mob. “I could see in your faces and see it now. Bretonians are a proud people, a strong people. And never in our history have we surrendered in the face of an invasion of our homeland. We have faced situations like this before. We came from an island. We have been surrounded and without allies but have never willing given up. Our shores have to run red with invader blood before they can smother our flame.”

The queen pounded a fist down on the balcony rail. “And I will be damned before I let any do that to you, Bretonia! I can see you would be too.” Carina chuckled. “I guess my critics were right. As all heirs to the throne I joined the armed forces, but the dismay of my opposition I did nothing lady-like or safe like most princes or princesses.” She smiled as looked down at the knot of soldiers at the gate. “I suppose you can blame the Royal Marines for how I am.” The knot smiled and cheered and they displayed the patches and insignia of the Royal Marines proudly.

Queen Carina looked back up into the camera. “I have a royal order that goes out to all of Bretonia’s sons and daughters that stand watch over our borders. You have been listening to the ranting of a madman. Ignore his traitorous rambling and hold your ground. Let not one kilometer of our space fall to the invaders. We will send more of your fellows to reinforce you.” The crowd below cheered.
Carina looked down over the crowd. “Bretonians! Your mother, Britannia, is in danger. Protect her. We will triumph, or the histories of the invaders will forever be stained by the massive letting of their own blood to put us down. Go home, Bretonians. Prepare. Live. Fight. But know your Queen will do everything for you, even putting herself in the front if necessary.”

The crowd cheered louder, and the knot of soldiers at the gate started a new cheer. “The King is dead! Long live the Queen! Long live the Queen!” Carina smiled and walked back into the palace. Her escort of soldiers, commanders, and officials followed her in. The camera kept going until they could no longer see the queen and then switched to a flustered new anchor.

McCall shut down the terminal and looked up the Liberty Loyalists. He smiled widely, and his eyes sparkled. “God bless that woman. Mr. President, guess things aren’t a grim as we thought. And I bet the gift of a potential ally in the rightful government of Liberty and her supporters would brighten up the Queen’s day.”

McCall bent down and his comm unit. “Ensign, stop cheering out there and get me Air Commander Peters.” McCall looked up at Washington and his escort. “I’ll give you a couple of wings to escort your to New London. Your Arizona might need some time at Southampton, and Queen Carina will undoubtedly wish to see you and your associates. By George! This occasion deserves some port. Join me!”

The others laughed as the captain broke out some glasses and a very full bottle of Bretonia port.

Back on Mactan Michael slowely opened his eyes. A faint light in the corner desperatly tried to illuminate the room, but actually only threw gostly shadows on the floor. It took him a while before he could make out the two figures in the far corner of the room. As he came to life, one of the figured walked up to him. Suddenly the person walked up the wall and heading for the ceiling and Michael figured he must have been drugged badly.

The figure, most likely a man, was now standing in front of him and seemed to be looking him straight into the eyes.

"Where's the rest of the resistance." the man said.
But all Michael could do was looking up to the man who gave him a beat against his jaw.

"Again, where's the rest of the resistance." the man bellowed in Michael's ear. But Michael one again refused to answer, partially because he was aware of what was happeneing, but mainly because he couldn't find the strength. Another fist hit his jaw and ruptured his lip. Michael felt the copper-like taste of the bloo in his mounth and his mind cleared a little. He looked at the man again and recalled his face, but he wasn't sure where he'd seen him before.

"This isn't working." said a more farmiliar voice from out of the shadows. Once he had thought the dim lighting made her more beautiful, but somehow he couldn't remember why he had ever bothered to spend time with Anna. She grabbed a chair and sat down infront of Michael, looking him straight into the eyes. The man took position behind him, ready to knock him on the head if his answers didn't suit them.

"Now, lets not make this more complicated then it already is, shall we?" she said in the sweetest sugar-coated voice she could possibly produce and Michael felt a shiver running down his spine.

"You see, we know that you and your friends are responsible for the destruction of several Cruisers and even a Battleship. We also know that you have been holding up Sigma 19. We've already send out a large battlegroup to take care of them and we'll soon enough get the confirmation of its victory over the resistance." She smiled at him and Michael felt sic. If they knew about Malaga, how much more could they have known?

"I know you're tired of fighting Michael. And to be honest, so am I. I'd so much rather be at home right now. But unfortunately I have a job to do. If you just tell me where they are then we can all go home." She looked at him, but Michael refused to look back, much to her frustration.

"Ok, I have tried to be nice and gentle, but if you refuse to coöperate like this, you leave me no choice." She reached for a suitcase standing next to her that wasn't there before and took out what seemed the big blowtorch. It was a blowtorch and Michaels brain sounded the alarm; this was going very bad very soon, but he was tied up, what could he do?
The torch spat out a yellow-orange coloured flame and Anna held the flame just close enough to Michaels face for him to feel the heat, but not burn him. She slowely waved the torch from left to right infront of his face and Michael tracked it with his eyes. He knew he was going to get hurt and he knew how to prefent it, but he didn't want to give her the pleasure of his defeat. This wasn't about survival or the war anymore, this was personal.

"Last chance Michael." Anna spoke with a cooleness he had never heared before and he knew she wouldn't hold back. But Michael didn't give in. He didn't give in when she adjusted the oxigen flow which turned the flame to the farmiliar blue-white glow they used to cut steel. And he didn't give in when she bruned him across the chest, from his left shoulder all the way down to just below the heart, although he did scream.

"Give it up Michael, you know you can't hold out much longer. Talk to me and I'll make this very quick." But Michael didn't talk and Anna continued to burn him across the chest, this time from right to left. He now had a burning X on his chest, but Michael still didn't give in. Anna reached into the suitcase again and this time she took out a small stick which Michael recognised as a shocker similar to the ones the police force used, but this was probably an upgraded version.

"There are various methods I could hurt you Michael. Methods that would let you wish you were dead. I'd rather not use those methods, but I will if I have to in order to let you talk. Now once more, Michael. Where is the resistance holding up?"

Michael coughed and spat on the floor, more blood then saliva. "Come closer." he whispered and coughed again. Anna hessitated a moment but then she moved her head forward until she was about a foot away from Michael.
"Closer." and she came closer until there were only a few inches between them. Michael could smell her breath and her parfume. Michael coughed once more, into her face before he spoke again.

"I...I...will kill you." and Michael spat in her face. Anna, seemingly undisturbed, poked the stick into Michaels chest directly on the burn and an electrical charge shot through his body. He screamed and his body shot backwards, tiping over the chair he sat in and Michael fell on his back. He started laughing and Anna stood up from her chair, cleaning her face. She walked up to him and looked down at his burned body. He still laughed histerial and for a moment both Anna and the man were confused. But before they could do anything a small device on Anna's hip started beeping. She looked at it, annoyed by the disturbance and turned to the man. They whispered something before she turned to Michael.

"Where's the commcenter?" she bellowed, something Michael had always thought was well below her standard, but suited her this time.

"Trouble with the boss?" he chuckled. "You must be stupid to think I'd tell you where it is. You're clever enough to find it yourself anyway."

He could see she resisted an urge to kick him in the head as she turned away and walked to the door.

"Come on." she said to the man. "This'll be for the both of us."

"What about him?" The man said pointing at Michael. It was the first time he had spoken and Anna didn't seem to pleased by his contribution.

"He's not going anywhere, now shut up and follow me." she said firmly and without giving Michael a second look they both left.

Despite the pain and the drugs still in his blood he found the strength he could focus on everything around him. He noticed the case filled with torturing equipment still open on the floor next to the chair where Anna had seated herself only minutes ago. He was still on his back, his arms and legs tied firmly to the chair. With the greatest of efforts he managed to move himself into the position where he could reach into the suitcase. Although his reach was limited because his arms were tied up just above his wrists, he could get his fingers into the case and went across the pieces of metal, guessing what they were.
Suddenly he cut his hand on something sharp and a small stream of blood slowly ran down his fingers. He tried to pick up whatever had injured him and after a few tries he held a small surgical knife in his hands. He manuevered the knife into the right position and started working on his ties.
Progress was slow and Michael had to hurry, because Anna could be back any minute. He dropped the knife twice and alomost cut his wrist in the hurry, but after what seemed hours the tie snapped and his arm was free. He quickly untied his feet and his other arm and stubleed to the door. The drugs made it hard on him to walk straight.
The door wasn't locked and Michael slowely opened it and peeked into the long hall. it was empty. Slowly he shuffled across the hall, leaning against the walls, stopping every now and then to listen, but there was no sound to sugest he wasn't alone. Michael opened a door at the end of the hall and entered slowly. It was well lit but empty except for three rows of desks and chairs on one end of the room and a large projector screen on the other. He was in the briefing room.

In his time as a naval officer, while fighting criminals like the Lane Hackers, he had always thought they were nothing but a bunch of unorganized powerhungry animals, but when he was brought into the briefing room for the first time he found out that at least the Hackers were in fact higly organised with a clear hierarchy and command structure and a lot of diciplined pilots. Michael had been impressed and realised there and then that Liberty had greatly underestimated the Hackers, who even trained their pilots which explained their skills.

Michael halted for a moment, knowing that this might be the last time he was here. Through the door accross the room was the dockingbay and the way out, but the fate of all Hackers was set. Most of them were either dead or somewhere between Malaga and Kyoto. Mactan would probably never be their home again. Or at least for a long time if the combined forces of Rheinland and Liberty had their way.

With mixed emotions he left the briefing room and enterred the docking bay. It was just as empty as when he landed his ship, appart from the two Defenders belonging to his former coleagues. He quietly and carefully approached his ship, looking to every side expecting to be jumped anytime, but appart from the ships and some crates there was nothing, and besides the gentle hum of the vents ther was no sound.

His heart pounded in his chest as he walked under the left wing of his Nova Sailor towards the front. It looked like he was going to make it and he punched in the security code to open up the canopy. The noise it made in the silence of the docks was devastating and Michael was sure it could he heard through out the entire base. He panicked and jumped into his cockpit and fired up his engines as the canopy closed. He skipped the checklist and only ran a quick primary systems check which only checked the engines, navigations, weapons- and communicationssystems. When everything checked out green he contacted the docking controll tower, which was set to manual, and hovered to the airlock. It seemed to take forever for the doors to open and just as they were halfway opened he heared something hit his ship on the right side. He looked and saw Anna and her subordinate fireing on his ship. The Bostons couldn't do much harm to a ships hull, but Michael got bit nervous anyway, because they could launch and follow him once he had cleared the locks.

He floated into the lock and the door behind him closed. Michael had to wait another minute or so before the pressure was released. Unfortunately he knew that their was a manual override to the systems and although their was no way any navy officer knew the code, it wasn't so hard to break. But nobody broke the code and after a while the outer hatch opened and with the last bit of pressure the falcon graciously floated outside. He tunred his ship and waited for the inevitable arival of the two defenders, but they didn't come out, probably assuming he'd be long gone by now.

He checked his scanners but didn't see any ships. He knew the jumpgate to Manchester was being guarded by a Liberty fleet waiting to invade Brettonia and they were probably notified of his escape by now. His best bet was the jumphole to the Cortez system, some 35k away. He targeted it and let the autopilot do the rest of the work. But there wasn't any time to relax, not yet. He still had to get from Cortez to Manchester and find the Arizona. As he jumped he ached his head trying to figure out a way to get past the Liberty Fleet while surpressing his worries about the Junker controlled battleship, which also had to make his way through the systems. He was in for a heavy ride.

OOC: Am I supposed to write something out of character here?

Two figures were sitting in an almost empty bar on New London. One of them was a female probably in her early twenties, she wore a captain uniform, but not the one any of the four great houses were using. On that uniform there was a nametag that read: „Cpt. A DeSilva“. It was apparent that she had been using this uniform for quite some time as it was heavily damaged and even ripped at some parts. Her long, flowing, dark hair was hanging loose and a gentle breeze slowly, lazily moved them over her face. Face that was incredibly beautiful, yet firm and tough. On a closer inspection one would see that she has suffered much, but also gained a lot. She manages to stay unbroken by even the cruelest storms that have ever seen on the Sirius sector. Upon even closer inspection one would discover that one of her eyes isn’t as emerald green as the other one.

The other figure was a male who looked in his late twenties, but who was sitting like he was eighty years old. The man had a straight nose and a strong chin line. His mouth was dry and his entire face that wasn’t covered by hair was instead covered with a thin sand layer. Anybody passing by him in five meters could smell the strong scent of cinnamon that he had on him. Also one could see a thin stripe of white hair on his forehead. Some call gray hair a sign of wisdom, some call it a sign of old age and some even call it a sign of contact with a highly radioactive substance. His eyes were behind a pair of small dark shades he had on, but the light from his indigo blue eyes was penetrating the darkened glass. Those eyes with those sunglasses makes a person feel like watching into a huge pit, a hole without end and in the middle of that hole there is a sun that is about to burst to flames.

„Someone once said that a man without fear, is a man without hope. I say, man without fear is a man without death. Someone who can live forever in the memories in his comrades. I once knew a man like that and I sure as hell won’t ever forget him. His name isn’t important, his actions are. Actions that saved many soldiers from certain death, actions that pulverized entire armadas of enemies, actions that were guided strictly by honor and love. Now that man is gone – killed by one of his own guides. Somebody else takes his place now. Somebody who is ruthless and cold, destructive and evil, but still somebody who is following his only loyal guide – honor. When once people were honored to meet him, then now they shake in fear before him. Nature played a cruel trick on him as the only thing he lives by is denied to him.“ DeSilva quietly listened what O’Connor said.

„I too once knew this man,“ she added „and I wish I could bring him back, but that is impossible. We cannot change what we have done in the past and it all influences our actions in the future. He’s memory is too great to be ruined by the cold human who now takes his place among us.“ Their eyes met over the shining metal desk they were sitting at.

„He was but a fool, but so is his follower. They both deserve to die, one for the naive good-hearted actions and the other for the lack of them. Cornutus et hirsitus .“

„I too wish that the cold-hearted follower would leave, but killing him would be killing the good man.“ They now held each others hands.

„The good man is already dead, killed by the one who follows him. Slowly, silently, but efficiently.“ O’Connor stared down, behind himself. Like he was looking into a distant memory, a past that didn’t belong to him.

„It’s impossible, one cannot exist without the other.“

„Again you are talking about impossibilities, you yourself were the one who reminded the good guy that everything is possible.“ Now he was smiling gently. DeSilva ignored his comment among his smile.
„Wasn’t his follower afraid of losing himself during the elimination of his creator, its mentor?“ O’Connor looked deeply into those green glittering gems that had made him happy so many times in the past, but they stayed cold and distant and maybe this is for the best he thought.

„The saying goes both ways, my dear. He lost his hope and thus he lost his fear. And thus he still lives, being died over and over again on numerous occasions.“
Silence fell across the entire bar as the figures stopped whispering. Few more moments of peace before they ere officially on the different sides. They held hands hoping that the moment that was bound to happen would never get there. They waited and waited until O’Connor broke the almost holy aura of silence: „I made a promise, I pledged an oath that I’m going to protect. I cannot tell you the reasons, all I can tell you is that now we must depart and if fate draws good cards for us then we never have to see each other again. Au revoir, my love!“ He hastily kissed DeSilva and then he was gone.

The memory of the sound that the bar door made when it closed was locked forever inside DeSilvas head as now she had nothing more to do than wait. O’Connor on he other hand knew exactly what he had to do, but first he needed to get back on that battleship and finish all the business he had to do there. “Nec Deus intersit ” he mumbled quietly into the cold night of the planet.

Later when DeSilva was walking towards her shuttle she kept thinking about things like how could one man just be wiling to die because of some oath, because that’s what O’Connor did. He was one of two captains that didn’t join the rebellion. The odds are two against two hundred. And why the hell did he smell like a cinnamon factory? Then again he was covered in sand and was wearing a robe. In the middle of the winter. There were definitely things that should never be answered.



White.
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REMBER ME, BECAUSE I *WILL* REMEBER YOU!

(some ***** took my nickname!!!)