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Origins of a Galcom Commander


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It's Hasenau's long laughs; they are each a single word and won't wrap.

He, or somebody, just needs to break them up.


Cmdr Pherrett


[This message has been edited by Lynx Pherrett (edited 05-30-99).]

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Well, after bein away for some time to do a nice spot of revision for those pesky damned MCSE exams, I am delighted to inform you that I flunked by a single question.

Delighted I say because it means I get to live the life of a bum for a little while longer and do some more creative writting.

Only problem is I'm gonna have to sell another few pints of blood to offored the £76 re-examination fee, and that means I'm gonna have to put Mr. Plonky on the sidelines since I now cant offored to visit my girlfriend for a few days. And she's been away a fortnight too!

Perhaps more than was needed to know? I dont care, I've missed you guys. Even you Derek . . . . . wink.gif btw . . . had the strangest dream t'other night . . .


Commander Blades



'For Queen and country'


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  • 4 weeks later...

Good news gang. I resat my 70-073 NT Workstation exam today and passed. Woohoo!

I am a mere rollout no more. I am Blades, MCP. This has two benefits. I can now mock my lowly friends who are not MCP's and impress the girls with my OS prowess. It also allows me to take a few days off from grueling study and get on with the story.

So, expect more very soon.

Yay for me!


Commander Blades



'For Queen and country'


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  • 1 month later...

It could have been hours, maybe even days before I was aware enough of my surroundings to work out that I was neither dead n roasting in hell or strung up by my ankles with small children poking me with sharp sticks. I was, in fact, quite alive, yet in an astonishingly awful amount of pain. Everything was hurting. Right from my eyelids to my poorly clipped toenails. Even my naval was an inferno of agony, with itÔÇÖs constant throbbing and occasional raking sensations.

For the life of me, I couldnÔÇÖt understand why I was feeling this way. Nor could I recall who It was that I must have so utterly pissed off to cause me this discomfort.

About then, I discovered I had partial control over my head and neck area, and craned my throbbing skull forwards enough to discover that I was strapped down on some sort table. Oh yeah, I also realized at that point that I was naked, and by all visual accounts, very cold.

Then I understood. I knew where I was, why I was in such pain, and who had subjected me to this kind of treatment. Oh, and of course what I had said to warrant such punishment.

Damn my stupid, stupid mouth.

Utilising my new found abilty to move my head, I found the energy to lull my head to the left and take a quick gander at my immediate surroundings. By all accounts, things looked pretty bleak. I surmised that I was in some sort of operating theater. What gave it away more than anything was all the blinking lights, the vast array of surgical equipment and the dozen or so green masked individuals with datapads and pens standing at my side.

Had I not been to physically weak to even break wind, I probably would have whimpered. Fortunately, I saved that particular exercise in vocal control for the moment when the tell tale sound of surgical gloves springing into place alerted me to the presence of the attending surgeon.

It took a bit more effort than before, but with a series of powerful neck movements, I managed to roll my head to my right, and looked up into the face of the slightly built man.

ÔÇÿComfortable?ÔÇÖ he asked me.

I tried to speak, but ended up just drooling down my cheek.

ÔÇÿDrugs not worn off completely then? Never mind, this should help you.ÔÇÖ

The surgeon then proceded to jab something sharp into some part of my body, (I couldnÔÇÖt tell which part, since everything was ablaze in agony already, nor could I see from where I was propped.) and within moments I regained some control over my mouth.

ÔÇÿWhurm I?ÔÇÖ I asked. Well, kinda.

I could just make out the surgeon smiling from behind his mask.

ÔÇÿYouÔÇÖre in the medical bay of the Vengeance.ÔÇÖ

He stopped, then peered down very close to me.

ÔÇÿYouÔÇÖre very ill . . .ÔÇÖ he whispered.

That didnÔÇÖt sound too good. Nor entirely likely, since my most recent physical had only been a month or so ago, and had stated that with the exception of minor liver damage through excessive alcohol abuse over the last few months, I was in peak physical condition.

ÔÇÿUm . . . hoow ill awwm I?ÔÇÖ I muttered through dribble at him.

The surgeons eyes screwed up in a gesture I had come to recognize as extreme amusement. This did not look good. To make matters worse, he turned his back to me, picked up a clanging instrument, and flicked a switch. The noise that came from this instrument was groin twistingly reminiscent of a powerdrill being vooshed into life.

However, it wasnÔÇÖt until he turned around, presented me with the nasty looking surgical instrument and bent down at me once more that I lost all sense of perspective and began to blubber.

ÔÇÿHow ill are you?ÔÇÖ

Again, he seemed to be smiling.

ÔÇÿTerminal.ÔÇÖ He said.

*** Ok, so It's not a lot, but I been real busy as usual and had little time to do anything much. But . . . . more shall follow, as long as there is interest of course. ***


Commander Blades



'For Queen and country'


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What followed was nothing short of soul destroying..

I had expected to be soundly sliced n diced by the maniac behind the mask, but instead he backed away and put the instrument back down on the tray. Relieved enough to set panic aside for a few more moments, I barked out a few petty pleas in an effort to convince the surgeon I wasnÔÇÖt worth operating on.

This, of course, failed miserably.

Instead of being swayed by my emotional plea, he motioned over a nurse and instructed her to ÔÇÿPrepÔÇÖ me for surgery. I didnÔÇÖt really understand what prepping was all about, since IÔÇÖd never had any surgery of any sort before, but it didnÔÇÖt sound too traumatic. If anything, it would probably delay whatever the hell the surgeon was going to do to me, and that was a good thing. Time enough for Captain Haseanu to reconsider what it was he intended to do to me.

I know, I was reaching, but at that point, I had little other hope to grasp onto. Besides, my heroic, yet insanely stupid desire to be as offensive and insulting as possible had gone along with my muscle control, and it probably wouldnÔÇÖt have been a good idea to start abusing the surgeon right now anyway. Perhaps later, while he was dissecting me I could stun him with an ego destroying quip. If I was really lucky, and hadnÔÇÖt already lost complete control of my lower abdomen, I could maneuver myself into position to give him a damn good hosing down. At the very least, I would go down in history as the only file clerk in the fleet to piss on an Insurgent Officer. Ok, maybe not Wraith fleet . . . . .

It was while I was considering these options that the nurse approached me with four things. The first was a bowl, itÔÇÖs contents unknown. The second was a wash towel, white.

The third thing was instantly recognizable as a rather barbaric looking shaving device.

The fourth was, of course, shaving foam.

Curious thought went through my mind. Why were they going to shave me? Ok, so I had been on board this ship for a good day or so, but I couldnÔÇÖt be so disheveled that I needed a shave. Besides, I was being cut open and exposed for their ammusment and would be in a poor state to attend dinner parties afterwards. What were they thinking?

It was only when the nurse began squirting the foam around my nether regions that I caught on to the humiliating truth. She was going to shave me . . . down there.

My mind protested the reality of the situation, and tried in vain to formulate words for my mouth to utter. At least part of this procedure was successful. I had words in my head, which my brain transferred down to my mouth. However, when I instructed my mouth to utter these words, the only thing that came out was ÔÇÿGafffhnauhhhhh!ÔÇÖ for a good few seconds. The nurse was momentarily stunned by my unintelligible mumblings, something I could almost take pride in, but snapped back to the job at hand and continued with the lathering.

ÔÇÿExcuse me?ÔÇÖ I said to the surgeon after regaining control of my mouth.


ÔÇÿJust what is it youÔÇÖre doing to me?ÔÇÖ

The surgeon took a moment to answer, and when he did so, he first removed his surgical mask and smirked at me.

ÔÇÿYou are being prepped for surgery.ÔÇÖ He said.

Inwardly, I groaned as something pinched me further down my body. Apparently, I was getting some sensation, other than intense pain back in my body. Normally, this would have been a good thing, since pain is something I am not accustomed to. Sadly for me, the sensation that replaced the agony I had been experiencing for some time now was still pain related, although a lot sharper and lingering that it had been before. I tried to recall where I recognized that pain from.

ÔÇÿWhat kind of surgery?ÔÇÖ I asked the surgeon, trying to ignore another twanging pain.

The surgeon smiled once more. I knew I wasnÔÇÖt going to enjoy hearing his response.

ÔÇÿIt seems that your remarks to Captain Haseanu were taken a bit more personally than anyone would have anticipated.ÔÇÖ

I was right. I wasnÔÇÖt enjoying hearing this. I had a feeling hearing more would be even less pleasant.

ÔÇÿYou mean when I told him about the small . . ÔÇÿ

ÔÇÿYes.ÔÇÖ Interrupted the surgeon, looking briefly up at a monitor and back again.

This was getting worse. I began to get an inkling of what was going on.

ÔÇÿBut of course, that wasnÔÇÖt serious . . . . It wasnÔÇÖt at all true you understan-ÔÇÿ

ÔÇÿIt doesnÔÇÖt matter whether itÔÇÖs true or not. The Captain has, how shall I put this?ÔÇÖ

Again, he looked up briefly at the monitor. He leant down close to my head.

ÔÇÿThe Captain has developed something of a complex regarding his, ah, prowess.ÔÇÖ

ÔÇÿReally?ÔÇÖ I asked. ÔÇÿI had no idea.ÔÇÖ

ÔÇÿNo, of course you didnÔÇÖt. And why should you? Your just a file clerk.ÔÇÖ

That stung. I wasnÔÇÖt just a file clerk, I was a damned fine file clerk. Decorated for my fantastic filing system on many occasions. In fact, the Supreme Commander himself had only recently stopped by to . . . . . no, already covered this.

Anyhow, I protested his cutting remark and briefly began to formulate a nice comeback to destroy him with. However, another sudden twang brought me back to the reality of the situation . . . . . and also reminded me of where I had felt that pain before.

The mens room in the D deck rec facility back at Galcom HQ. A fellow officers stag night. Far too many Empirian ales and a bottle of something so horrid It made my nostril hairs fall out. The urinal. The tall admiral that stood next to me. The effort of trying to relieve myself with a superior (In many respects) at my side. The humiliation of defeat. The sheer agony of forgetting to tuck oneself fully back in place and catching a few strayÔÇÖs in the zipper. Now I knew. Now I understood.

That bitch was plucking me to death.

I screamed at the nurse to stop it, and this caused a mad flaying of her arms that almost nicked me in a vital area. The surgeon noticed this, and barked his dissaproval at the nurse, saying something about not damaging the merchandise before getting back to me.

ÔÇÿNow, Captain Haseanu had originally decided to just execute you and be done with it. Probably jettison your body into space and allow the galactic winds to carry your wretched carcass from here to Gammula. However, after he calmed down a bit, he decided to further humiliate you by having you stripped, painted red and run through the ship while the marines chased you with bath loofers.ÔÇÖ

I decided it would be best if I didnÔÇÖt ask.

ÔÇÿDuring the stripping process, the Captain noticed that you were, uh, better equipped than he previously imagined and requested that prepare for a transference procedure.ÔÇÖ

This was really, really bad.

ÔÇÿ Uh . . a transference procedure?ÔÇÖ

The surgeon nodded. ÔÇÿActually, the medical term is Scrotemoctomy. The removal, and transference of the targets scrotum.ÔÇÖ

This time, I couldnÔÇÖt even begin to form words in my mind. I was utterly, completely and 100% speechless.

ÔÇÿThe procedure shouldnÔÇÖt last too long. Just a few cuts, a snip here or there . . . . nothing to worry about.ÔÇÖ

I didnÔÇÖt believe him. My brain didnÔÇÖt even really understand the words. All I knew was that everything I had endured these last however many days had been leading up to this one, singlemost horrifying experience of my life.

ÔÇÿWhu whu whats to become of me?ÔÇÖ I somehow mumbled.

ÔÇÿHmmm? Oh, nothing much.ÔÇÖ He chuckled. ÔÇÿWeÔÇÖll patch you up, give you a pair of underpants with Ôäó stamped on the front and call you Action Man.ÔÇÖ

That didnÔÇÖt sound like fun.

ÔÇÿThen the Captain has instructed that you be dropped off in a cargo pod and allowed to return to Galcom space to serve as an example to everyone. Quite lenient really. Prividing, of course, you survive the procedure.ÔÇÖ

It didnÔÇÖt sound too lenient to me. Better to kill me now rather than extract the old crowd pleaser and send me packing.

ÔÇÿOh, and one more thing . . ÔÇÿ

That had a deadly ring to it. This was probably going to be even more horrible than everything else the surgeon had already said.

ÔÇÿ. . . the Captain wants you to be conscious during the procedure. He wants you to watch while we, ah, liberate the package.ÔÇÖ

So there it was. The full horror of the situation, laid out as bare as I was in front of me. Not only was I going to have my vitals removed and grafted onto another mans body, but I was to be allowed to live with the shame and humiliation for the rest of my life. As if that wasnÔÇÖt enough, I was to be conscious during the procedure. Could It get any worse?

ÔÇÿOh, and to make sure that you stay conscious during the operation, weÔÇÖre going to pump you full of drugs to keep you upright and chipper.ÔÇÖ


There was a final tug, and I briefly looked on in horror as the nurse whipped the last of the foam away with the towel and realized that I had been in such a state with the surgeons description, I hadnÔÇÖt even noticed how quickly the nurse had shaved me. Even worse, I was about to lose my manhood forever and I hadnÔÇÖt even been aware enough to enjoy it. I considered asking for a final request, you know, sponge bath or something, but the moment passed when the surgeon replaced his mask and gestured to the others that he was ready to begin.

There was nothing left to do . . . except scream.


Commander Blades



'For Queen and country'


[This message has been edited by Blades (edited 08-09-99).]

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Apologies about the spelling. Once it's completed, a revised version will be available direct from the Stiletto website in HTML and Word format.

And yes, I read your own RP background Ollie, and you are even more brutal than I have 'Lampooned' you to be.

More in store shortly . . .


Commander Blades



'For Queen and country'


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Most people can break down their life experiences into a succession of moments that served to define who they are, what they have accomplished and how they will be remembered once they have passed. Most people, if being truly honest can account for between eight and ten such moments during the course of their life. Most of these accountable moments happen fairly early on, and more often or not, not recognized at the time, but looked back on in later years where the grand scheme of things is acknowledged, if not completely understood.

I, on the other hand, laying sprawled out on the operating table within moments of having a significant portion of my body ÔÇÿliberatedÔÇÖ for the benefit of Captain Oliver Haseanu, could only account for three such defining moments.

The first, at the tender age of 15 was the loss of my virginity at the hands of my sisters older, and somewhat ugly, fat friend. The second was the morning after I had enlisted in Galcom to escape the ugly, fat Genevan bird. The third defining moment in my life was, of course, during the attack on GalCom HQ when I decided to free myself of the shackles

Of the depressingly hum drum life of a file clerk and pursue a career as a starship commander.

Had I the merest inkling of the horrors I was about to have myself subjected to in the days and weeks that were to follow, I would have probably gone back to my small office with itÔÇÖs two loaned grunts to order about, and not thought twice about chasing the impossible dream. But no, I had thrown caution to the wind and decided that by fair means or foul, I would become a starship commander and live the ultimate adventure.

And it was that kind of stupid thinking that had landed me in this sort of trouble.

So, there I was. Looking down at my bare naked self, screaming until my throat was dry and my brain had shriveled to half itÔÇÖs original size with shock and horror. The surgeon, behind his green mask and green gown was smiling, or frowning, I couldnÔÇÖt really tell.

Whatever the case, he had this awful, awful looking device in his hands, and was slowly approaching me, taking obvious delight in the intimidating sounds that came from the barbaric tool he was aiming at my groin.

And then suddenly, with complete surprise, the fourth defining moment of my life exploded into the operating room, guns blazing, manically laughing and single handedly exterminated each and every person standing over my cleanly shaven body before blasting away at the camera in the corner of the theater and shooting out several lights. Probably just for effect.

Once the sound of weapons fire had stopped ringing so violently in my ears, I again lolled my head to the left and tried to make out the figure who stood so dashingly in the doorway, one hand on his hip and another clutching a carbine in an action hero style pose. The background illumination from the adjoining corridor nicely silhouetted him in the now gloomy light of the operating theater.

I swear to you, there was smoke drifting in from the outside.

To be fair, at the time it was the finest thing I had ever seen in my life. Looking back though, it seemed just a little bit over dramatic, not to mention egotistical and utterly pointless.

But hey, thatÔÇÖs the way defining moments work out. You donÔÇÖt have control over them, they just happen. Sometimes good, sometimes bad. Right then, I wasnÔÇÖt sure which one it was likely to be.

ÔÇÿWho . . . who are you mysterious stranger?ÔÇÖ

I couldnÔÇÖt believe IÔÇÖd said that. Must have been the drugs and terror. Maybe my perception was all screwed up, and I wasnÔÇÖt seeing things as they really were.

I really hoped this was the case, since the man who approached looked more like a pirate than my Insurgent captors.

ÔÇÿArhh, the names Gallion, matey. Commander Gallion. IÔÇÖm here to rescue you.ÔÇÖ

I blinked in surprise at the sound of his voice and use of language. Surley I was hallucinating.

ÔÇÿYouÔÇÖre who?ÔÇÖ

ÔÇÿWe donÔÇÖt have time for this matey.ÔÇÖ

He began to tap upon a control terminal at the far side of the operating room. Within seconds, the restraining field that had been holding most of my body in place had released me, and I was free to move.

ÔÇÿWhat are you doing here, ah, Captain Gallion?ÔÇÖ

Gallion rushed back to the doorway and quickly glanced through the observation portal.

ÔÇÿActually itÔÇÖs Commander, and IÔÇÖve been undercover on this bucket for the last eight weeks.ÔÇÖ

ÔÇÿI see . . . . ÔÇÿ

I got off the table, regretted the movement as another bout of agony zipped through my body and collapsed on the cold floor and decided to whimper for a bit.

ÔÇÿGet a hold of yourself man, we have to get out of here before Haseanu and his cronies get down here and bugger us all to death.ÔÇÖ


ÔÇÿGet a move on dammit!ÔÇÖ

I forced myself to my feet, and took a moment to grab a surgical gown and fasten it around my body. Ok, so it wasnÔÇÖt the most desirable garment in the universe, and my ass did hang out the back in a way my previous cellmate would have really appreciated, but at least most of my modesty was covered. I could have opted for one of the surgeons coveralls, but they were all perforated beyond recognition and smelt vaguely of pork.

I was fine the way I was. At least for now.

ÔÇÿSo, who are you then? A diplomat? starship commander? Important scientist?ÔÇÖ

I had a sudden feeling I was about to get shouted at.

ÔÇÿErm . . actually IÔÇÖm a file clerk.ÔÇÖ

Gallion rounded on me, his carbine loosely aimed at my midsection.

He did not look pleased.

ÔÇÿYouÔÇÖre what?ÔÇÖ

I struggled for words.

ÔÇÿMy names Savage, Karl Savage from Galcom HQ.ÔÇÖ

ÔÇÿAnd your what? A file clerk?ÔÇÖ

I coughed. ÔÇÿUh . . yes sir.ÔÇÖ

Gallions cheeks flushed an unhealthy shade of red. It kinda reminded me of the way Haseanu looked moments before beating me senseless in the interrogation room.

ÔÇÿAh, but IÔÇÖm a damned fine file clerk sir! GalCom couldnÔÇÖt get along without me.ÔÇÖ

This didnÔÇÖt seem to help. Gallion still looked a tad miffed.

ÔÇÿYou mean I blew my cover for some pencil pushing freak nobody?ÔÇÖ

Now that hurt. Ok, itÔÇÖs one thing to be insulted by your enemies, but a fellow officer in the fleet? This Gallion, this Commander Gallion was asking for a thrashing.

But it could wait.

ÔÇÿIf you a nobody then, what the hell are you doing on board this ship?ÔÇÖ

I explained myself to Gallion. Well, I explained the part of getting blown up during the Vengenances attack on the transport, the part where I heroically fought off the advances of my cellmate, and indeed, how I helped to give Haseanu an inferiority complex.

I guess I didnÔÇÖt tell it quite as well as I recalled it, since Gallion didnÔÇÖt look too interested and when I had finished he looked vacantly at me for a moment and said, ÔÇÿThatÔÇÖs niceÔÇÖ.

Hell, it could have been worse. I promised myself then, should I ever get out of this alive, I would put this all down on paper.

Unfortunately, Commander Oliver Haseanu had other ideas . . . .


Commander Blades



'For Queen and country'


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Gallion, you have NO IDEA smile.gif

But thanks to Tac, I got a number of leads to follow up on.


Commander Blades



'For Queen and country'


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  • 8 months later...

***** Thats right, it's back! So what if it's been 8 months since an update? I've been real busy thanks to you muppets voting me in as Fleet Commander. Anyhow .... round n round we go again. smile.gif *****

For the next few pant browning minutes, myself and the good Commander Gallion ducked n dived in and out of more closets, bathrooms and service ducts than I care to recall. Most of the time, this was to avoid the wandering marine patrols that were mooching about the ship. Occasionally, Gallion would stuff me into a service crawl way just to stop me from talking for a moment or two.

See, I have a tendancy to talk to myself, and anybody else whoÔÇÖs in the immediate vicinity when IÔÇÖm nervous. As I was standing on a cold, metallic deck plate, naked but for a revealing surgical gown, on an Insurgent starship under the command of a man who wanted to have my genitals removed and grafted onto his own body, I had good reason to be nervous. However, Gallion didnÔÇÖt want me to be nervous. He said it interfered with his thinking. And thinking was apparently important right about then. In fact, he told me that if I didnÔÇÖt stop talking and allow him to think he was going to stick me in a supply closet, jab a broom handle up my bottom and leave me hangin there like a cocktail weenie, stewing in my own juices.

The thought of having a comrade do this to me was only slightly less unnerving than having my tackle removed by a man who would make Emperor Caligulus look sane.. So I opted to stop talking. Immediately.

Whatever Gallion had been thinking about during the moments when my tongue was still, it seemed to involve moving once again through the ship. I learned this as I was dragged by the scruff of my kneck after him in a less than graceful manner.

After a few moments of this, we suddenly halted. We stopped, it seemed, because of the sound of approaching voices from down a corridor I assumed we needed to take. At that point, Gallion glared at me, looking angry.

I smiled at him. A big beaming smile.

A long time ago, my mother (Bless her) told me that If I couldnÔÇÖt say anything nice, then donÔÇÖt say anything at all. This thought is probably the one that confused me so utterly, and caused the sudden, and completely innaporpriate smile to break onto my face. Why? Hell if I know. I also had the habit of doing insanely stupid things when I was anxious.

Anyway, Gallion let out something of a resigned sigh, and unclasped a spare slug thrower from his belt. He put it to my head and without saying another word pulled the trigger.


Gallion looked mildly upset.

ÔÇ£Guess I didnÔÇÖt reload it after all. Damn.ÔÇØ

The shock of what he had attempted didnÔÇÖt register until some hours later. At that time, I attacked Gallion while screaming like a little girl and didnÔÇÖt stop pounding his arms and side with my outstretched palms until he sedated me.

Anyway, back to the plot .

Instead of quickly reloading his weapon, replanting it on my forehead and pulling the trigger, he handed me the clumsy weapon with a spare clip, told me to load it and prepare myself for a blood bath.

This seemed like an ok idea to me.

The moment the clip clinked into place and I pulled back the cocking mechanism, Gallion rounded the corner, ducked down low and began wildly firing. The noise was overwhelming. Not just from Gallions slug thrower, but from the return fire and alarm claxons that wailed into existence seconds later.

Energy weapons fire lanced above and to the side of Gallion as he retreated back behind the cover of the corridors wall. ÔÇ£What the hell are you doing?ÔÇØ he shouted at me.

I shrugged at him, not having an answer he was likely to want to hear.

ÔÇ£Get out there and fight damn you!ÔÇØ

Understanding dawned on me. He wanted us BOTH to shoot them.

To be fair, I hadnÔÇÖt handled a firearm in any capacity since my basic training days. Even then, I wasnÔÇÖt very fond of weapons, despite being something of a natural with them. I remember my drill instructor telling me once that had I not been the most lowly, sniveling wretch of a man he had ever seen, heÔÇÖd transfer me to the marine core and make me a seargent.

Anyway, memories of better times aside, I now understood that Gallion wanted me to shoot back at them.

As a rule, I donÔÇÖt shoot people. As another rule, I donÔÇÖt like getting shot at by people. These two opposing rules cancelled eachother out, and left me stunned once again. I wrestled with the moral implications of each of my actions for a few moments, just before a searing beam of red energy glanced my shoulder and burnt a sizeable chunk of flesh from the bone.

In an instant, the conflict was resolved. Those *******s had shot me! Actually shot me. Not just shot at me, but SHOT ME! They not only intended to do me harm, but intended to kill me where I stood.

I acquired a new found respect for wanton destruction, and joined Gallion in the gratuitous blood letting.

I cant be sure what happened during those moments, itÔÇÖs all a bit of a haze now, but when I think back to what happened immediately afterwards, I seem to recall seeing a look of genuine surprise on Gallions withered old face, perhaps even a momentary look of respect.

However, this didnÔÇÖt last. Soon he was shaking his head again, and looking down at the pile of bodies on the Vengences deck.

ÔÇ£You are one messed up little puppy.ÔÇØ Gallion said to me.

Again, I donÔÇÖt know why, but I beamed a smile up at him. He just shook his head, waved the pistol at me and suggested I take point.

I did as I was told.







'For Queen and country'

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ROTFL!!! biggrin.gif"><P>That


Cmdr. Ben Zwycky

GCV Svoboda, ISS08

Adjutant to the Fleet Commander

ISS Fleet Recruiting Officer

Director, CIOPS Directorate of Training and Administration

Initiate - Order of Jade Dragon

ISS Fleet Homepage

GCV Svoboda Homepage

"Nakonec pravda vitezi" (in the end the truth wins)

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