The Admiral's Guest

[X-Vlad]

'Bugger. I wants my cardamine, and I wants it now.'

Vlad, bleeding from the nose and mouth, spat viciously on the deck. As the pair of Black Legionnaires lifted him, he sluggishly addressed the bulkhead beside Admiral Hiltraud, "I'll shee yous and yer equipment in hellsh...", and passed out.

Krieg and Hilltraud looked at each other, and simultaneously shrugged. "Bloody Unioners.." As the guards carried him out, Krieg asked, in a quiet tone not normally associated with the Admiral, "So, whats this I hear about a recording?"


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Vlad came to on the floor of a cell much like the one he'd last visited. It had the same smell of blood, feces, and sandpaper that always seemed to hang about the prisons of Rheinland. It even had the same blood on the floor; His. As his eyes lifted higher, a figure was silhouetted against the glaring lights. Vlad dropped his head again, prefering not to see his latest cellmate.

He could still recall that Mollie aboard the BPA Newport, who was determined to prove that he, and he alone, had killed every single BMM employee and their entire family. Unfortunately, this 'proving' process involved the repetition of "I fecking killed 'em all!" for three weeks solid. Vlad had been forced to drive his toilet seat through the man's skull. Twice.

'Maybe this one won't talk...'

His cellmate leaned over, temporarily blocking all the light with his ragged mop of greasy hair. It looked almost like you could've wrung several liters of cooking oil out of it, but it wasn't until he spoke that recognition struck.

"Vlad, you stupid puke. If I'd known you were coming, I would've had a shower!"

Vlad leaned up on his elbow in astonishment, for he'd not heard that voice is nigh over six months, in a bar on Cadiz, just before the last, great raid on the Sirius Federation.

"Zypher?"

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Unioners... FOR THE PEOPLE!