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Mission Complete

Chapter One

“Fire!” An unnamed pilot screamed in the darkness. More unknown people died, and few silent voices lived. Hundreds of mesmerized soldiers marched onward into cold shells of ships filling them with meaningless scraps of metal and empty lives of scared people. Dark blood colored monsters fought worthless hand-to-hand dances against blue and green demons in the shadows of space. Battle cries rang out in the void against the scrape of metallic weapons on hollow walls. ‘Die, Kill, Die, Kill!’ the collective thought is spread like too much water in a shallow container, spilling into every pore and exposing the emptiness of the atmosphere. There is no echo, there is nothing. The vacant souls of anonymous soldiers gather what they can of the wreckage and pour the remnants into the next being, readying it for more battles and more deaths.

Somewhere, in an ancient building, hidden in the oldest region of a protected space colony, a world weary pilot cringes in the flow of death that radiates from the fight. He can see the blinking lights of the machines as they are born and die and he feels the terror of his waged wars pounding through his head, visions of hatred and vacancy ramming his senses. It had gone on too long. Somehow it had to end. Otherwise the blood would flow forever from empty careless wounds. They could not accept anyone else to fight. There were enough that were already trained in being lost souls to ask anyone else to do that ever again. Pilot Yuy paused in his depressed inner monologue and raised his head to the chamber doors of his office. From behind his creaky metal desk he turns and feigns interest in the intruder.

“I’m looking for a Lt. Kou.” The light footsteps of the young man sounded across the pale pattern-less floor.

'Aren’t we all?' The pilot thought sarcastically, raising his eyebrows in question, which the young boy easily mistook for consent.

"I want to be a pilot.” Adamantly the young blond rushed forward and extended a resume. It was filled with training camps and charity events that went unnoticed.

'No, you only think you do.' He smiled bitterly at the boy in front of him, an instinctive quip posed on his lips. Lowering the smirk, he subdued the response. “She’s not here. She’s supposed to be back in a few days. Why don’t you sit here and tell me exactly why you want to become a pilot?” ‘Or why you believe we’d ever let a kid like you even clean the machines.’ He placed the resume on the desk without a single glance. To the world, he was buying time before he could run the kid off, but to this one boy, he was interested.

“I want to fight in the war. I was told she could train me to pilot a Moon doll.” A ragged laugh sounded, sarcasm dripping on every note. An unwrinkled face winced slightly.

“Who told you? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. You want to know about pilots?” Josh began pacing back and forth in his small office. The young boy nodded. “You’re the only one. No one cares about those who fight to maintain peace. You can’t peace without first fighting the battle. War is a natural thing, this place isn’t. Kids like you learn about things they will never fly and machines they may never even see. I’m sure that’s where you got the idea to come here. Even if you were to be trained, I doubt you’d even get near the large Moon mecas.” Josh ran his rough left hand over his tired face. His trim nails contrasted the scars that ran down his fingers. “Only those with extreme training and conditioning are trusted to sit in the cockpit. If you’re looking for fame, forget it. Colonies don’t want to remember rebels. That’s what we are, you know, rebels. NOVA isn’t just some cute sounding name. We are the Noble Organization of Vigilante Agents. Once you become a pilot to anything, there is no turning back. You can’t go back to a normal life, because it’s illegal to house rebels. You wouldn’t be able to stand civilians after anyway.” Joshua snorted, his voice, gruff with disuse, welling palpably in contempt beneath the surface of his devil-may-care façade. “You either fight and run, or die in battle. Siege, battle, burn, run. That’s all there is to it. Recruits go insane or are hurt so bad they might as well be insane. It’s all in there anyway.”

The officer pointed to the hospital just outside the office windows. “Soldiers kill themselves to get away from the pressure. Eventually, after the glamour wears, you realize that you can’t go home, and you’ve just thrown your life away for people who will never care. You’ll have to answer the very begging call of Commander Drake Renata or some other dipshit captain every day. Renata’s the coldest substance next to ice.” Josh gave another mocking snort, twisting his lips into an almost painful shape. He sunk back into his chair, finished towering over the boy for the moment. “I think even that has to try hard to beat him.” Before the boy could laugh, he shrugged indifferently. “The rest of the boys will probably be just as hard, and I figure you’ll feel out of place. You’re too soft, boy. This place takes a lot out of you. It’s not a place for the weak. Recruits here feel mindless and trapped in, and that’s what they are. Don’t think, just do.

“Do you even know how this whole damn war started?” The young boy shook is head, his hair not even moving in its close cut. “I figured not. It doesn’t matter. No one cares anymore. They just want it to be over.” Josh closed his dark eyes and allowed the hatred to disappear for a moment before he snapped them back open, the flames leaping back to life. The hatred was always there, just under the surface, burning him from the inside out. Only his ice princess could douse the flames.


Word Count in this Chapter: 1,021 words
Word Count Total: 1,809 words





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1 Comments:

At 1:48 AM, Blogger 'Ailina said...

Wow. Your characterization of the officer is fantastic.

 

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