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"You're weak!" Rashad spluttered loudly in a sudden collapse of his usual calm "Pathetic! I despise you!"
Masanga let the words wash over him, as so much hate had done over the years. In his time, he'd put more significant whelps than Rashad in their place, but this was his son. Instead, he folded his fingers into a lattice and stared intently at it. Mentally, he began a mantra of calm and relaxation, refusing to rise to the bait his child offered. "You have your orders." he said quietly.
Rashad, his brilliant white Admiral's uniform accentuating the deep blackness of his skin, visibly fumed. He saluted briefly, a petulant yet crisp swing of his arm that barely reached his forehead, before turning on his heels and marching from the room.
Watching his bright prodigy leave, Masanga felt the familiar lament come over him. As the weight of a hundred worlds once more began testing his shoulders, he laid a hand across his face, feeling the onset of age on his features. Fingertips brushed the deep wrinkles and loose skin that set him apart from the valiant youth that personified the typical image of his life.
Is this how I will be remembered? he thought. The aged relic refusing to charge into yet another war? A lifetime as a figurehead owed to a single act? Masanga sank back into his seat as reminiscence took its hold.
30 years. Had it been so long already? The memories were so fresh...
I would give a thousand lifetimes of pain to save any one of them.
"Permission to speak freely sir?" a silky voice called.
Masanga slowly turned to face his executive assistant, Raoul. The man was looking directly into his eyes, a fierce and everpresent fire on his features. Masanga pulled his hand from his face and resumed the calming lattice.
"Granted, of course" he said, his voice full of bass and authority.
"Forgive me if I speak out of turn, sir," Raoul drawled "but I feel the young Admiral yearns for a chance to make his own name."
"For certain," Masanga whispered.
"He wishes to break free," Raoul continued, taking a step backwards and adopting a more formal stance "from his father's shadow."
"Unfortunately, Raoul, I may have already made that impossible." Masanga rested his chin on his fingers "Leave me, now."
Raoul snapped his heels and produced a perfect salute "By your leave, Grand Admiral" he snapped, before turning and leaving through the automatic sliding door.
As the loneliness of his office bit home, the weight of a hundred billion lives forced itself onto Masanga's brow. There had been brilliant prodigies before. Humanity would have them again. But despite the continuity, such talent must not be wasted. Not like...
There was no avoiding it. Memories burst into his mind like a virus. The final moments af the magnificently talented young Lieutenant Sarah Harper, downloaded from UEN Goblin's black box 30 years before. Given the chance, it would have been her commanding naval forces spanning a third of the known galaxy, not the shell of the man that was once the great Masanga Mpenzu. Instead, there was only the memory, and the anguish felt by a young Captain Mpenzu as her dying screams filled the bridge of his scout cruiser.
As the UEN Falconi rocked in the the turbulent upper atmosphere, the comms station glitched and overloaded. Feeds from the half dozen ships still in contact burst over the speakers in tandem. Furious shouting and frightened screams mingled and echoed over his bridge.
"Ensign, get that noise shut off!" Captain Mpenzu yelled over the din.
"Sir!"
Analytically, Mpenzu cut apart the streams of voices bombarding his senses. Terror, uncertaintly, shouted orders and rushed obeisance. Not panic. And then...
Mpenzu wondered if anyone else could hear Harper arguing with her crew through the din.
"I don't care what you think Ensign, target these co-ordinates and fire everything we have, NOW!"
"But LT, launching now will reduce our orbital trajectory, we'll hit atmosphere!"
"Do it Ensign Akal! That's an order!"
Mpenzu glanced at his tactical screen, saw red blips closing on green blips. An epiphany charged through his mind, and his blood ran cold. He punched the comm button to the Goblin and screamed into his mic.
"Harper! Harper this is Mpenzu! Don't you dare..!" As he said it the tactical screen was briefly filled with purple blurs. Red blips fluctuated and vanished. The green blip that represented the Goblin abruptly disappeared, as it fell below the tactical horizon. Into the atmosphere. Mpenzu felt his jaw tremble.
"Oh God! We're going down!" Ensign Akal screamed across the malfunctioning comm.
Mpenzu whirled on his heels "Comm! Get that radio clutter shut down now!" The crew must not hear this.
Fate intervened. A power surge rushed into the comm suite, electrocuted the comm officer. Silence fell across the comm. Silence, but for Goblin's transmission.
"I can't get any kinetics from the engines, we're sinking!" Akal screamed uselessly.
"God forgive me" Harper's voice feminine voice weighed over the comm.
"Friction! We're not built for this! The heat's coming through the bulkhead! Christ!"
Then there were just screams. Frustrated at first as the air turned to poison. Then they became desperate as the heat scorched every internal suface and boiled the crew's skin. The final death cries seemed to last an eternity.
Mpenzu looked around the bridge. Stunned disbelief dominated the faces of his crew. A half dozen red blips appeared on the display. Mpenzu started screaming orders.
Masanga let the words wash over him, as so much hate had done over the years. In his time, he'd put more significant whelps than Rashad in their place, but this was his son. Instead, he folded his fingers into a lattice and stared intently at it. Mentally, he began a mantra of calm and relaxation, refusing to rise to the bait his child offered. "You have your orders." he said quietly.
Rashad, his brilliant white Admiral's uniform accentuating the deep blackness of his skin, visibly fumed. He saluted briefly, a petulant yet crisp swing of his arm that barely reached his forehead, before turning on his heels and marching from the room.
Watching his bright prodigy leave, Masanga felt the familiar lament come over him. As the weight of a hundred worlds once more began testing his shoulders, he laid a hand across his face, feeling the onset of age on his features. Fingertips brushed the deep wrinkles and loose skin that set him apart from the valiant youth that personified the typical image of his life.
Is this how I will be remembered? he thought. The aged relic refusing to charge into yet another war? A lifetime as a figurehead owed to a single act? Masanga sank back into his seat as reminiscence took its hold.
30 years. Had it been so long already? The memories were so fresh...
I would give a thousand lifetimes of pain to save any one of them.
"Permission to speak freely sir?" a silky voice called.
Masanga slowly turned to face his executive assistant, Raoul. The man was looking directly into his eyes, a fierce and everpresent fire on his features. Masanga pulled his hand from his face and resumed the calming lattice.
"Granted, of course" he said, his voice full of bass and authority.
"Forgive me if I speak out of turn, sir," Raoul drawled "but I feel the young Admiral yearns for a chance to make his own name."
"For certain," Masanga whispered.
"He wishes to break free," Raoul continued, taking a step backwards and adopting a more formal stance "from his father's shadow."
"Unfortunately, Raoul, I may have already made that impossible." Masanga rested his chin on his fingers "Leave me, now."
Raoul snapped his heels and produced a perfect salute "By your leave, Grand Admiral" he snapped, before turning and leaving through the automatic sliding door.
As the loneliness of his office bit home, the weight of a hundred billion lives forced itself onto Masanga's brow. There had been brilliant prodigies before. Humanity would have them again. But despite the continuity, such talent must not be wasted. Not like...
There was no avoiding it. Memories burst into his mind like a virus. The final moments af the magnificently talented young Lieutenant Sarah Harper, downloaded from UEN Goblin's black box 30 years before. Given the chance, it would have been her commanding naval forces spanning a third of the known galaxy, not the shell of the man that was once the great Masanga Mpenzu. Instead, there was only the memory, and the anguish felt by a young Captain Mpenzu as her dying screams filled the bridge of his scout cruiser.
As the UEN Falconi rocked in the the turbulent upper atmosphere, the comms station glitched and overloaded. Feeds from the half dozen ships still in contact burst over the speakers in tandem. Furious shouting and frightened screams mingled and echoed over his bridge.
"Ensign, get that noise shut off!" Captain Mpenzu yelled over the din.
"Sir!"
Analytically, Mpenzu cut apart the streams of voices bombarding his senses. Terror, uncertaintly, shouted orders and rushed obeisance. Not panic. And then...
Mpenzu wondered if anyone else could hear Harper arguing with her crew through the din.
"I don't care what you think Ensign, target these co-ordinates and fire everything we have, NOW!"
"But LT, launching now will reduce our orbital trajectory, we'll hit atmosphere!"
"Do it Ensign Akal! That's an order!"
Mpenzu glanced at his tactical screen, saw red blips closing on green blips. An epiphany charged through his mind, and his blood ran cold. He punched the comm button to the Goblin and screamed into his mic.
"Harper! Harper this is Mpenzu! Don't you dare..!" As he said it the tactical screen was briefly filled with purple blurs. Red blips fluctuated and vanished. The green blip that represented the Goblin abruptly disappeared, as it fell below the tactical horizon. Into the atmosphere. Mpenzu felt his jaw tremble.
"Oh God! We're going down!" Ensign Akal screamed across the malfunctioning comm.
Mpenzu whirled on his heels "Comm! Get that radio clutter shut down now!" The crew must not hear this.
Fate intervened. A power surge rushed into the comm suite, electrocuted the comm officer. Silence fell across the comm. Silence, but for Goblin's transmission.
"I can't get any kinetics from the engines, we're sinking!" Akal screamed uselessly.
"God forgive me" Harper's voice feminine voice weighed over the comm.
"Friction! We're not built for this! The heat's coming through the bulkhead! Christ!"
Then there were just screams. Frustrated at first as the air turned to poison. Then they became desperate as the heat scorched every internal suface and boiled the crew's skin. The final death cries seemed to last an eternity.
Mpenzu looked around the bridge. Stunned disbelief dominated the faces of his crew. A half dozen red blips appeared on the display. Mpenzu started screaming orders.
Interesting so far - starts with conflict between Rashad and Mpenzu, so that gets us immediately into it. Not too sure where it's going as yet, but you're building the characters and the universe well.
N.B. - written in 45 minutes after 4 pints of cider. Be gentle! I've since drunk a lot more...
"You're weak!" Rashad spluttered loudly in a sudden collapse of his usual calm "Pathetic! I despise you!"
Masanga let the words wash over him, as so much hate had done over the years. In his time, he'd put more significant whelps than Rashad in their place, but this was his son. Instead, he folded his fingers into a lattice and stared intently at it. Mentally, he began a mantra of calm and relaxation, refusing to rise to the bait his child offered. "You have your orders." he said quietly.
Rashad, his brilliant white Admiral's uniform accentuating the deep blackness of his skin, visibly fumed. He saluted briefly, a petulant yet crisp swing of his arm that barely reached his forehead, before turning on his heels and marching from the room.
Watching his bright prodigy leave, Masanga felt the familiar lament come over him. As the weight of a hundred worlds once more began testing his shoulders, he laid a hand across his face, feeling the onset of age on his features. Fingertips brushed the deep wrinkles and loose skin that set him apart from the valiant youth that personified the typical image of his life.
Is this how I will be remembered? he thought. The aged relic refusing to charge into yet another war? A lifetime as a figurehead owed to a single act? Masanga sank back into his seat as reminiscence took its hold.
30 years. Had it been so long already? The memories were so fresh...
I would give a thousand lifetimes of pain to save any one of them.
"Permission to speak freely sir?" a silky voice called.
Masanga slowly turned to face his executive assistant, Raoul. The man was looking directly into his eyes, a fierce and everpresent fire on his features. Masanga pulled his hand from his face and resumed the calming lattice.
"Granted, of course" he said, his voice full of bass and authority.
"Forgive me if I speak out of turn, sir," Raoul drawled "but I feel the young Admiral yearns for a chance to make his own name."
"For certain," Masanga whispered.
"He wishes to break free," Raoul continued, taking a step backwards and adopting a more formal stance "from his father's shadow."
"Unfortunately, Raoul, I may have already made that impossible." Masanga rested his chin on his fingers "Leave me, now."
Raoul snapped his heels and produced a perfect salute "By your leave, Grand Admiral" he snapped, before turning and leaving through the automatic sliding door.
As the loneliness of his office bit home, the weight of a hundred billion lives forced itself onto Masanga's brow. There had been brilliant prodigies before. Humanity would have them again. But despite the continuity, such talent must not be wasted. Not like...
There was no avoiding it. Memories burst into his mind like a virus. The final moments af the magnificently talented young Lieutenant Sarah Harper, downloaded from UEN Goblin's black box 30 years before. Given the chance, it would have been her commanding naval forces spanning a third of the known galaxy, not the shell of the man that was once the great Masanga Mpenzu. Instead, there was only the memory, and the anguish felt by a young Captain Mpenzu as her dying screams filled the bridge of his scout cruiser.
As the UEN Falconi rocked in the the turbulent upper atmosphere, the comms station glitched and overloaded. Feeds from the half dozen ships still in contact burst over the speakers in tandem. Furious shouting and frightened screams mingled and echoed over his bridge.
"Ensign, get that noise shut off!" Captain Mpenzu yelled over the din.
"Sir!"
Analytically, Mpenzu cut apart the streams of voices bombarding his senses. Terror, uncertaintly, shouted orders and rushed obeisance. Not panic. And then...
Mpenzu wondered if anyone else could hear Harper arguing with her crew through the din.
"I don't care what you think Ensign, target these co-ordinates and fire everything we have, NOW!"
"But LT, launching now will reduce our orbital trajectory, we'll hit atmosphere!"
"Do it Ensign Akal! That's an order!"
Mpenzu glanced at his tactical screen, saw red blips closing on green blips. An epiphany charged through his mind, and his blood ran cold. He punched the comm button to the Goblin and screamed into his mic.
"Harper! Harper this is Mpenzu! Don't you dare..!" As he said it the tactical screen was briefly filled with purple blurs. Red blips fluctuated and vanished. The green blip that represented the Goblin abruptly disappeared, as it fell below the tactical horizon. Into the atmosphere. Mpenzu felt his jaw tremble.
"Oh God! We're going down!" Ensign Akal screamed across the malfunctioning comm.
Mpenzu whirled on his heels "Comm! Get that radio clutter shut down now!" The crew must not hear this.
Fate intervened. A power surge rushed into the comm suite, electrocuted the comm officer. Silence fell across the comm. Silence, but for Goblin's transmission.
"I can't get any kinetics from the engines, we're sinking!" Akal screamed uselessly.
"God forgive me" Harper's voice feminine voice weighed over the comm.
"Friction! We're not built for this! The heat's coming through the bulkhead! Christ!"
Then there were just screams. Frustrated at first as the air turned to poison. Then they became desperate as the heat scorched every internal suface and boiled the crew's skin. The final death cries seemed to last an eternity.
Mpenzu looked around the bridge. Stunned disbelief dominated the faces of his crew. A half dozen red blips appeared on the display. Mpenzu started screaming orders.
Masanga let the words wash over him, as so much hate had done over the years. In his time, he'd put more significant whelps than Rashad in their place, but this was his son. Instead, he folded his fingers into a lattice and stared intently at it. Mentally, he began a mantra of calm and relaxation, refusing to rise to the bait his child offered. "You have your orders." he said quietly.
Rashad, his brilliant white Admiral's uniform accentuating the deep blackness of his skin, visibly fumed. He saluted briefly, a petulant yet crisp swing of his arm that barely reached his forehead, before turning on his heels and marching from the room.
Watching his bright prodigy leave, Masanga felt the familiar lament come over him. As the weight of a hundred worlds once more began testing his shoulders, he laid a hand across his face, feeling the onset of age on his features. Fingertips brushed the deep wrinkles and loose skin that set him apart from the valiant youth that personified the typical image of his life.
Is this how I will be remembered? he thought. The aged relic refusing to charge into yet another war? A lifetime as a figurehead owed to a single act? Masanga sank back into his seat as reminiscence took its hold.
30 years. Had it been so long already? The memories were so fresh...
I would give a thousand lifetimes of pain to save any one of them.
"Permission to speak freely sir?" a silky voice called.
Masanga slowly turned to face his executive assistant, Raoul. The man was looking directly into his eyes, a fierce and everpresent fire on his features. Masanga pulled his hand from his face and resumed the calming lattice.
"Granted, of course" he said, his voice full of bass and authority.
"Forgive me if I speak out of turn, sir," Raoul drawled "but I feel the young Admiral yearns for a chance to make his own name."
"For certain," Masanga whispered.
"He wishes to break free," Raoul continued, taking a step backwards and adopting a more formal stance "from his father's shadow."
"Unfortunately, Raoul, I may have already made that impossible." Masanga rested his chin on his fingers "Leave me, now."
Raoul snapped his heels and produced a perfect salute "By your leave, Grand Admiral" he snapped, before turning and leaving through the automatic sliding door.
As the loneliness of his office bit home, the weight of a hundred billion lives forced itself onto Masanga's brow. There had been brilliant prodigies before. Humanity would have them again. But despite the continuity, such talent must not be wasted. Not like...
There was no avoiding it. Memories burst into his mind like a virus. The final moments af the magnificently talented young Lieutenant Sarah Harper, downloaded from UEN Goblin's black box 30 years before. Given the chance, it would have been her commanding naval forces spanning a third of the known galaxy, not the shell of the man that was once the great Masanga Mpenzu. Instead, there was only the memory, and the anguish felt by a young Captain Mpenzu as her dying screams filled the bridge of his scout cruiser.
As the UEN Falconi rocked in the the turbulent upper atmosphere, the comms station glitched and overloaded. Feeds from the half dozen ships still in contact burst over the speakers in tandem. Furious shouting and frightened screams mingled and echoed over his bridge.
"Ensign, get that noise shut off!" Captain Mpenzu yelled over the din.
"Sir!"
Analytically, Mpenzu cut apart the streams of voices bombarding his senses. Terror, uncertaintly, shouted orders and rushed obeisance. Not panic. And then...
Mpenzu wondered if anyone else could hear Harper arguing with her crew through the din.
"I don't care what you think Ensign, target these co-ordinates and fire everything we have, NOW!"
"But LT, launching now will reduce our orbital trajectory, we'll hit atmosphere!"
"Do it Ensign Akal! That's an order!"
Mpenzu glanced at his tactical screen, saw red blips closing on green blips. An epiphany charged through his mind, and his blood ran cold. He punched the comm button to the Goblin and screamed into his mic.
"Harper! Harper this is Mpenzu! Don't you dare..!" As he said it the tactical screen was briefly filled with purple blurs. Red blips fluctuated and vanished. The green blip that represented the Goblin abruptly disappeared, as it fell below the tactical horizon. Into the atmosphere. Mpenzu felt his jaw tremble.
"Oh God! We're going down!" Ensign Akal screamed across the malfunctioning comm.
Mpenzu whirled on his heels "Comm! Get that radio clutter shut down now!" The crew must not hear this.
Fate intervened. A power surge rushed into the comm suite, electrocuted the comm officer. Silence fell across the comm. Silence, but for Goblin's transmission.
"I can't get any kinetics from the engines, we're sinking!" Akal screamed uselessly.
"God forgive me" Harper's voice feminine voice weighed over the comm.
"Friction! We're not built for this! The heat's coming through the bulkhead! Christ!"
Then there were just screams. Frustrated at first as the air turned to poison. Then they became desperate as the heat scorched every internal suface and boiled the crew's skin. The final death cries seemed to last an eternity.
Mpenzu looked around the bridge. Stunned disbelief dominated the faces of his crew. A half dozen red blips appeared on the display. Mpenzu started screaming orders.