Falling Apart

[Victoria Knight]

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827-05-15: Marshall Station - Separatist Headquarters, Bering

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She was watching over the main assembly hall. A dangerous luxury few installations afforded but ones that valued their military traditions. Her speech was over, the room empty, her hands firmly gripping the metal handbar of the small raised platform. Maybe this was her last speech. The pilots she'd spoken to were getting ready to launch and fight back the greatest threat they'd faced ever since their insurgency nearly four years ago. She closed her eyes and exhaled, heavily. Then stood up straight and left through corridors that were being disassembled. Their whole operation being taken apart. And she didn't know how much longer she'd hold herself together either.
Her command stuff had wanted her to leave. To evacuate. But she'd decided that she wouldn't run this time. Their history was one of constant retreats. This certainly took its toll on the morale of the men and women under her command. And while she wouldn't be so reckless to go into combat herself, she'd be well visible here, commanding as close as she could reasonably get.

Usually she pushed the thoughts of how it could all come to this aside. Her own comrades not only assaulted but tried to murder her and her personnel. They repeatedly struck them like they hadn't once fought side by side. Her family had denounced her as she'd eventually found out. The few friends she'd managed to keep had faded away. She hadn't heard from most of them in months. All that was left was the struggle to keep her people alive and to push the Navy back. A fight that has become her only meaning in life now and she looked toward the coming days with no despair or hatred as this was all that kept her alive.

There could be no failure now or everything would fall apart. She would fall apart.

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