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Interlude
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Running, always running.
The man kept running as hard as his body would take him, clutching his rifle tightly to his chest, his domed helmet wobbling as the strap came loose.
The ground beneath was wet and claggy, torn up by shrapnel then pelted back down again.
Running, he had to keep runn--
A stumble, falling.
Face in the dirt the man smashed his fist against the ground.
Pushing himself back up to his knees he catches sight of a logo on his sleeve.
Their logo, the reason he was running, would keep on running, the Abhailen royal arms - The revolution couldn't fail, Abhaile had worked too hard, deserved its freedom too much.
The Logo was everything they stood for, embraced by the badge, his, their reason for fighting, all of them!
He stood back up, rifle in hands and began running once more.
Radio Static - White Noise - A Woman.
"Emelia? Emelia!"
There she was, the stern faced woman with her well kept brown hair, her perfect soldier's posture.
Then she became obscured, replaced as though by a camera zooming out, by her mech, the Casnel Mk2 - The pride and joy of IAFS, one of 3 stolen mechs taken straight from TSU - Sure it might spend its time on secondment to the Tradech but when it returned home to the Fluchtig they would be unstoppable, Nate just knew it!
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A line coursed across his vision, cutting into the Casnel's cockpit, causing the whole machine to catch alight and burn and die and Emilia inside it.
"No!!" The man roared, trying to reach out but finding no arms.
His lungs began to feel empty, he felt cold, very very cold, colder than any other time in his life - He couldn't breath, it was as if the air was simply gone, like the oxygen had run away, as if he was about to di--
KNOCK KNOCK
Commander Nate Novel, Captain of the good ship Am Fluchtig, sat up with a start from his bed.
He glanced over at the direction the knocking had come from, while grabbing a towel to wipe down his face.
"Sir? You in?" Came the familiar voice of the ship's acting second-in-command, Kolme Nilas.
"I'm here old sport', let yourself in lieutenant." Nate said back, making his way down from the raised platform his bed lay on and towards the door. As Captain his room by far outmatched the rest aboard the ship - A large seating area was directly in-front of the door Kolme's shaggy form now entered through. Behind that on the raised steps was his sleeping quarters, to one side a large office space to the other a well equipped kitchenette.
The whole room lit with low fluorescent blue lights, giving it a sombre-nightclub aesthetic of sorts.
Nate headed for the kitchenette in an effort to buy himself time to straighten out his bed-hair. Kolme shot him a quick glance before sitting down;
"Everythin' alright sir? Not like you to call me 'lieutenant' casually like that."
Nate cringed at the acute accusation - He turned from the kitchen counter carrying a tray and plastering his best smile on his face.
That was to say his only smile, with an almost square shaped head like Nate's, every smile came across as a bit of a goofy grin, which accompanied by his close cut blond hair, communicated the image of a children's puppet more than a warship commander.
Comments like: 'A face only a Mother could love' had been all too common throughout his life.
"Oh I'm just fine, had a bad dream is all." The so called commander said back with something of a yawn. Kolme frowned at this as Nate laid down the tray and passed Kolme a cup of preboiled tap water and a teabag;
"I see, another of 'those dreams' Sir?"
Nate sighed, "Well sort of, it started that way - I was an Abhailien Soldier, back in the First War I think, but then...."
"Then?"
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"Well it's the strangest thing but lately my dreams seem to get, interrupted with these terrible nightmares. I dare say I'm being haunted you know!!"
Rather then laughing as Nate had hoped for, Kolme instead frowned deeply at this.
"What sort of nightmares Sir?"
"Oh nothing to worry about old chap, people I know dieing or the ship being blown up - The usual poppycock of command-anxiety."
Nate said back with a wave of his hand.
"And these dreams ya' havin' - You are sure they've never been prophetic before?" Kolme pushed, his tone more stern than usual.
"Come, come my good man, None of my dreams have ever been of the future, only ever the past - You know you're still the only one who takes me seriously about them."
Kolme shrugged, seemingly placated by the answer he stirred his teabag before fishing it out and adding milk from a small jug brought on the tray;
"What's there not to believe, you've told me things about myself I ain't ever told anyone - Stuff I've never even said aloud. That's pretty convincing to me."
Nate followed suit, taking a place on the leather-sofa opposite Kolme and adding sweetener to his coffee - "Yes well, most people aren't as accepting as you old-boy, usually when I tell someone I have dreams that show me memories from other people in my vicinity - Well at first they just think I'm mad, and when I tell them something private from their past I've seen in the dreams, they accuse me of stalking! It really wounds a man's pride you know..."
"Ya well Magi powers come in lots of different ways, maybe ya' should try get tested again?"
Nate sighed, "Why bother, if it isn't neatly confinable to an existing category for combat purposes, those eggheads ain't interested - Maybe I am just mad."
Kolme laughed kindly, "We're all mad sir, just ta' different degrees."
Nate smiled, he liked Kolme Nilas - He wasn't entirely sure when they had first met - As like Kolme, Nate had been a soldier, or in his case, officer in Vice-Admiral Louise's fleet when IAFS was formed, simply being brought along for the ride. Therefore it was possible they had actually bumped into each other as much as ten years ago - More recently though, the man had rather suddenly requested to join the Fluchtig's crew and although he hadn't known it at the time, accepting Kolme's transfer request had brought him an indispensable confidant.
"And what about you, how's 'the team'? You're not just here to hide from them again are you?"
Kolme smirked; "I would never use you like that Sir!"
He proclaimed jokingly before laying back into his seat - "They're doin' just fine - A few weeks rest after that whole business at Station 9 was just the ticket. With Scarlet 'officially' back on active duty she's formed somen' of a click with Una and Hoki, they 'ave become inseparable this last couple weeks.
Sabban, well, he's cooled down a bit atleast."
"You mean cooled down from whatever the thing at Station 9 was, the thing you're still not telling me about old bean?" Nate asked coyly, not for the first time.
"Dunno' wat'cha mean Sir, t'was all in my reports."
Kolme replied innocently without hesitation.
"Yes well, besides that are you ready to do your interrogation yet? The Higher ups want the full reports by next week, that includes one from the combat division Kolme."
Kolme groaned, "Ah come-on Sir ya' gott'a help me out on that. Let me bring Miss.Cally with me if I can't 'ave Hoki!"
"Look Kolme I told you already, this 'Moncha' fellow you lot caught is a Vijaik Knight, Hoki's father also held that award, meaning she can't hold the integration with you - Conflict of interest. As for Cally, well she's bridge staff, not combat and besides..."
"But I'm X-TSU as well, ain't that itself a conflict of intere-- Wait a minute, You traitor! You had Cally do the interrogation on behalf of the bridge staff didn't ya?!" Kolme suddenly said joining the dots.
"Maybe..."
"Well then let me do it on me' own, damn the procedure and its two people for interviews rule. I mean what am I meant ta' do without Hoki? Una ain't the right type for that sort of thing and Scarlet...Well Scarlet in an interview would be...."
Kolme and Nate both shook their heads in sync at the devilish idea of Scarlet 'interrogating' a prisoner of war and the image that conjured in their heads.
"Ahem, well whomever you choose, try get it done by the week's-end old-sport, I need that report."
Nate said, the guilt of having sent Cally instead of himself for the interview clear in his voice.
"Ya, ya, I'll sort somethin' out, see if Sabban is up for it I guess. Anyway best be getting back at it, gotta' prep for this mock tournament thing - We can't all get caught sleeping on the job." Kolme jeered as he laid down the now empty tea cup and rose from his chair.
At the door of the room he turned around once more; "Definitely just a dream right sir? You've never been prophetic before, for definite?"
Nate smiled that same old puppet's grin, "Like I said, never. You worry too much Kolme, keep that up and people will really start to think you're taking this 'officer' business seriously, acting squad commander!
Instead you should start thinking about that leave we're getting next week when we arrive in Bannerman, a woman would do you some good!"
Kolme laughed and quietly left the room, sliding the door shut behind him.
Nate stood up and returned the tray back to the kitchen counter, leaving his coffee untouched and lukewarm. He wasn't lying, he'd really never had any prophetic dreams, if he had he would easily of been declared a Magi by the military. His 'power' as Kolme called it, was simply to see other people's memories in his dream, never the future - 'Still it felt so real...'
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