Razin stood in the open section of the wall, hands on his hips.
"Oi!" he said, looking at each one in turn. "We're supposed to be Comrades in here. What's left of Katz's finest, not a bunch of washerwomen nagging each other..."
He shook his head as he marched to the bar, "put aside theories and egos a minute, and listen." he turned his eyes on each of them. "Anyone ever tell you of the 15 Supersonic?"
He smiled at their blank looks, "heroes of the Coalition during the Sol war. 15 men bravely strapped themselves into Saracen fighters, and threw themselves at the Gates of Paradise... the flagship of the 13th Italian navy... They didn't need ranks, titles, opinions, or monkeys..." he smiled apologetically at Miller. "They needed their faith, and the loyalty of their comrades in arms. And they did the impossible, the smashed the flagship, and the remnants of the Italian navy with it."
"Three gunboats, and two dozen fighters... I'd say we're a might better off than they were, eh comrades?" He motioned for shots to be poured. "To the Fifteen Supersonic!"
"My opinion is very simple, I do follow orders and my will for Katz to win is as strong as anyones here. We've been working on this station for a few weeks now with little contact from High Command. I've seen good men die for weeks now with little movement. And now you come here in your finely pressed uniform while us lacky's are having a small discussion to inform us to be ready, for probably our imminent death."
He finished off his vodka.
"Hence why I said that if you get it wrong Wexler, the Volkhan and I will have something in common. And if I do live to see another day if we lose and you are alive, well.. Watch your back."
He looked around at the attempts to diffuse the situation and Ling yielded and sighed deeply.
"We all have too much to lose Wexler. To the 15 supersonic!"
[font=Cambria]Wexler nodded quickly to Colonel Razin understanding his core message and then returned back to Ling to answer his response.
[color=#FF5555]"Finely pressed uniform? I personally thought it was rather worn out from all those skirmishes in Omega-50 and Edinburgh. This is not about ranks, titles or chain of command, this is about what is best for the movement. Never get that wrong with me, but I will let my actions prove those words than trying to convince you through persuasion."
Ian raised his glass to the Colonel's toast and drained it. "We may have more ships sah, aye, and perhaps better trained men, but we dae nae know where the Volkhan is."
gone four years, first day back: Zoners still getting shot in Theta :|
"Your uniform doesn't have to be perfect to be finely pressed sir, I merely wonder where you found an iron? I guess any uniform looks good compared to ours."
He pointed at the multiple rips, dirt and engine oil. The logo of the Xi'an on Ling's right arm had been stained with his own blood.
"Spend two weeks fixing the damage that the Trotsky did and you'll quickly find that you just don't care what the uniform looks like - just so long as you still wear it with pride."
He saw the conviction that Wexler had in discussing the rebel movement.
"Well, I may have misjudged you, I thought you were merely another desk Colonel. Seeing us as figures and toys on the battlefield. No matter, I will have the Xi'an ready. We will be along side you when the time comes."
[font=Cambria]Wexler understood Ling's frustration of the sudden change of leadership, he understood the frsutration of being the underdog, but most of all, he understood the frustration of being viewed as nothing more than a tool. This was clearly not his intention but war can make any man turn cold.
[color=#FF5555]"We all have our doubts comrade, but next time I will personally take you with me to Omega-50 where we will hunt down Volkhan Scout Patrols. I hear Lazarev and Alesky are already on it."
They were both silent throughout the entire proceedings. As was Miller, which struck Bobby as odd. Normally the Commissar was so talkative and wanted to contribute his views to any conversation. But this time, something was different.
Eventually Miller stood up and began to walk away from the other humans, without a word. His walking stick banged loudly on the metal floor. He walked past the Primusians and headed toward the door.
Maktu simply stared at Razin. Bobby knew what it was about.
'Maktu, man, there's no need to start anything...'
'Bobby.' One word silenced him. 'Colonel Razin. Allow me to inform you that, contrary to common belief, we are not monkeys. We are Homo Sapiens Robustus Primusians. We take offence to being called monkeys. I hope you won't make the same mistake twice.' He once again placed his right hand over his heart and bowed his head, before turning and walking after the Commissar.
Bobby stood there for a moment, alone. He was six-foot seven, but at that moment he'd never felt smaller. He took one of his joints from his pocket. Synthetic marijuana. He lit the end and took a long drag from the joint.
'Yeah...' He finally began to say. 'I'd better like, err, follow him.' He edged away from the group of humans, toward the door. He took another drag, and began scurrying after Maktu and the Commissar.
[17:45:39] Wolfs Ghost (Murphy): Tom, you have problems. Go kill yourself.
[19:25:12] Johnny (Jam): Tomtom, I will beat you with a spoon.
[14:22:56] Prarabdh Thakur: KILL HIM WITH A SHEEP.
[17:40:48] Eagle (Junes): Tom should be slapped with a spoon.
[11:32:18] Warspite: Thank you for being so awesome Tom. <3
[18:17:36] Metano: I love you tomtom
[20:06:24] Warspite: I will seriously give you epic head.
' Wrote:Edit: also, Tomtomrawr, fappin' like a boss.
The fools were talking of commiting gunboats and fighting patrols, of skirmishes and territory. Idiocy. We will never win by attacking the body of our enemies. We do not have the strength. We do not fight over planets or over ships, we fight for hearts and minds, over ideals. And the only way to win against an idea is to kill it's prophet.
He left the room, grabbing his rifle case, following the Primusians, his feigned awkwardness and drunkeness disappearing.
gone four years, first day back: Zoners still getting shot in Theta :|
Aloysius Rhade stood in a darker corner of Dom Hryaka, silently debating whether he should make his presence known, or to merely slip back into the shadows. The past few weeks had been... difficult. He had been thrust into the position as the Military Leader of the Rebellion, a job he personally thought he was prepared for. A job which he failed at. After his numerous disastrous diplomatic attempts, after many complaints from his Comrades, Rhade had been unceremoniously replaced by Alesky, along with Wexler.
Truthfully, Rhade knew they were better candidates to lead the Rebellion, but deep inside, he felt sting of pain from his failure to lead the Rebellion himself. Rhade sighed, he quietly slipped back into the Cockpit of his Odin Fighter. Right now, the Rebellion was on it's way, as much as Rhade hated to admit it, it was progressing better then when he was in charge.
Silently, he undocked his Odin Fighter, sending it screaming for New London. Rhade needed some time to think. To take everything in. At least, that's what he told himself. In truth, Rhade couldn't stand to face his Comrades, not after his recent failures. Lieutenant Alissa Kalalin told him that one of Volkhan's men approached her, and gave her a Nerve Staple. If he could bring it back intact, maybe he could save some face at having "disappeared". Maybe. Doubtful. Rhade sighed, never had he imagined himself running away from his troubles, yet here he was.
He reached into the seat of his cockpit and pulled out a Bottle of Vodka. He raised his Bottle, almost as a silent toast.
"To a successful Rebellion." he said, just a hair above a whisper.