Untitled

Mother Confessor:

Sitting at the table across from the Sergeant cleaning the weapons after stripping them down. The only other difficulty I had was with the Terran assault rifle. It bucked quite a bit when I was firing it. I stuck with burst fire, as it was almost unmanageable on full auto. The Centurian pistol and rifle did not have the complications of the Terran gas powered counterparts. Noting that this is due to the power cell and the large capacitors that hold up the initial charge from the power cell. As a positive there was no recoil from them, so there was no need to compensate my aim for the recoil at higher rate of fire.

While cleaning the Terran rifle, I wonder how to master the thing. It seems just to sporadic to offer any account of accuracy. Either that or I just do not have the musculature built up enough to handle it effectively. Sliding the issued cleaning brush down the medium length barrel. Clearing the tooled barrel of spent explosive particulate. The strip down and cleaning of the Centurian issued pistol was much less messy, outside of oiling the few moving parts and the barrel. I was surprised how easy it was to slide a cloth through the smooth high-pressure ceramic barrel. The coils embedded in the barrel, inside of the inner and outer ceramic walls of the cylinder.

Having finished cleaning the basically centimeter caliber weapon, I begin placing it back together piece by piece. Performing the task from memory, and completing it in a few minutes. Screwing the metal barrel back into place, I place it on the table parallel to my body. The grip and empty magazine catch facing the Sergeant opposite me. I sit patiently in silence, my hands folded in my lap. Watching as Sergeant Nimix finishes up with the 15mm pistol, placing the slide back on the pistol. It metallically accepts it’s place on the large caliber pistol, sliding to the default position. She seemed pleased with my performance with three of the four, acknowledging that it takes practice to master the formidable Terran rifle.

Collecting the targets that were folded neatly off to my left. Sergeant Nimix says to me, “Not bad cherry, not bad at all.”

“Thank you, ma’am” ,I accept the compliment.

“Though I was rather surprised that you took the fifteen mill to the face pretty hard. Most get knocked senseless a few minutes, but not you. From the look of your face you took a good knock”, she explains to me.

The reminder of the incident, the dull ache in the bridge of my nose. It feels bruised. The bite from the sights impacting my head I had totally forgotten. Unsure if the impacts will become scars.

“Well cherry, go stow your targets in the barracks. I will see you for dinner” ,Sergeant Nimix tells me.

“Yes, Sergeant” , I loudly proclaim my compliance. Taking to my feet with the neat stack of targets in hand, I set off to the barrack. Looking forward to the meal and rest ahead.

Marckus:

Now in the privacy of my quarters, the small Captain setting on my desk chair. His bare bulbous head slick with sweat from the awkwardly tailored cap. I wait once more for his reply, after reiterating my proposal. Pacing back and forth in the silence my hands clasped behind my back. Occasionally glancing up from the toes of my boots to see if he is ready to answer. I shall grant the stubborn Captain a few more minutes, I tell myself glancing up at the clock on the wall. The only sound in the room is the click of my boots on the metal surface as I continue pacing. It would be much easier if he were to submit to my terms. I could force him into playing along, but more likely to sabotage the mission if I were to do so. I scowl at the thought as I am not big on losing, or being betrayed.

Stopping mid stride in front of the small soldier and raising my gaze up to the ceiling. Afraid that if I were to look at him, I may hit him out of frustration.

“Well Captain, what is your answer” , I say to him, trying to hide my rising anger. I can almost feel his eyes on me as I stand before him.

“The clock is ticking, Captain,” , I continue, “there is no shame in feeling guilty if you choose to turncoat. Though if you change loyalties, that is what I expect. Your complete loyalty. I shall live with your anger toward me, but all will be forgiven if you choose to comply. You already know the terms and the condition of the mission. That has to be much better than wasting away in a cell.”

Taking a deep breath as I try to sell him the shit sandwich on half moldy bread.

“Let me remind you that I am not a man of patience, even less so with my enemy, Captain” , I tell him, “I will offer a third option if it will help you make a decision.”

My tone becoming gruff, I continue,” I will have the rest of the Confeds locked up, used as target practice. You will be forced to watch them die a less than noble death. Then I will see to it that you are tormented for the amusement of the Mother Confessor, until the lights leave your eyes.” Playing a partial bluff since I would need the autonomy to do so from the Council of Elders.

Slowly turning my gaze to his, letting the third less than ideal option sink in. Watching as his bare head begins to have beads sweat. The old soldier averts his gaze. Turning to face him in full now, keeping my eyes on him. The seconds pass slowly as if the two of us were approaching the singularity of a black hole. Each increment in time becoming longer and longer in the silence.

Then he looks up once more gazing icily into my eyes. A scowl on his furrowed face further deepening the furrows around his mouth. Extending his small hand up to me, accepting my proposal with reluctance. Taking his hand in agreement, a coldness fills the room. I shake his four fingered hand with my larger calloused hand. His grip is firm and clammy. No doubt with anxiety of having to choose what path is in his best interests. I thought for sure the elderly Captain would have been much more willing to participate in my plans. He has so little to lose. At least where the options were concerned. I did not threaten his family, nor implicate that facilitation of exterminating his species in systematic fashion. Just put his life, and those of his comrades on the chopping block. Now with his mind made up all he as to do is follow the program. If he does play it straight and stay on my good side, I will allow him to live. As for the mission, that will be determined on how badly he cherishes his limited years left.

Having settled the matter of his decision to work with me.

“Then I will set up a meeting between you, and my General, Zlada Volkov, whom you will be attending on the mission” , I explain the next steps in my plans.

“What is your name, Captain” ,I ask out of curiosity, as it would be nice to know the name of the new member on my side.

“Fluren, sir. Jexim Fluren” , the old soldier says.

“Then let it stand, Captain Fluren. You will be expected to meet with the General at 0600-tomorrow morning in the recovery ward. She will be your direct superior, and you will answer to no one beside her. Understand” , I address him, and he nods his acceptance.

“From there you will be given your new assignment by her. As you know her unofficial title is Red Wolf, and does not take her position lightly. Though you will address her as General Volkov, as you have not earned the privilege of using the latter. Prove yourself to the General and you will do fine” ,concluding my short speech to the newest appendage of my unit.

He stands up from the chair, and places the cap atop his round head. I reach out my hand, toward his right shoulder. Tearing the Confederation crest patch from his sleeve, and throwing it symbolically on the floor. Stripping the old Grey of his past.

“Now go and indulge in a decent meal and get some rest, as you have a lot on your plate in the morning” , I order the Captain. Watching as he marches off toward the door.

Stopping him mid stride, “Oh and Captain, don’t mess this up, or I will make good on the final alternative. I will personally see to it if you step so much as a toe out of line” , I reassert the gravity of my terms regarding his earning freedom with a very real threat.

“Understood, sir” , he curtly cuts back, as he crosses the threshold entering the hallway beyond it. With his departure I relay the meeting detail with Red Wolf. Afterward I draw up the Mother Confessors audio report of the confession by Commander Riley. Sitting down at the console, I listen intently to the report in full.

Graxis:

Pouring over the records on what has been compiled on the Saturn System, looking to see if there is anything else out there besides the space station. There seems to nothing found as of yet, as I dive deeper into the records. Sifting every nook and cranny of data on the system for any indication of what the Ober-Commander is looking for amongst the many satellites surrounding the gas giant.

After carefully examining every last scrap of official and expedition report, analysis, and general observation. I turn up with nothing. Now more than just curious as to what is out there, I decide to send a message to the Ober-Commander. Pulling up the closed messaging circuit, I address my concern at hand. Asking for an explanation as well as a general destination of where it may be located.

After sending the message addressing my curiosities. Hopefully getting a reasonable response for the unstable man. Somehow, he has changed since Pluto, not sure what it is. Just that he seems more aggressive in taking ordered precision of his overall command, but with a hint of madness inside of the whole concoction. Though I am sure he will right himself once he settles his personal demons. It almost feels like he has us chasing ghosts, by heading deep into the Saturn System in search of something. It must be of relevance otherwise why bother heading to the heart of the small system?

Taking my concern off the mentally unstable man. I will pick up that matter once he responds to my message. Taking leave of my quarters to go and eat. Thinking about the massive port orbiting the gas giant as I head off to the mess hall.