12-07-2013, 04:06 AM
Michael made no immediate reply, allowing Zokoskev to answer the question, if he wished. It was on him, after all. Michael did not ask for the task, and the only reason he did not resign and walk out the door was the fact it was primarily a protection and rescue assignment.
And the spark that flared in the depths of his mind.
Zokoskev muttered under his breath before answering. Dr. Weston's flat stare was apparently unnerving the man. It did not bother Michael. After seeing the utter hatred, revulsion of the Atharim - the eyes of men and women determined to slaughter him like a wild beast - it was hard for others to unsettle him.
Blood poured down to the ground like raindrops, the exposed veins hanging like leaves off a tree from the thing's limp arm.
Yes, he unsettled himself more than anything in the world.
"Vellas does not always follow strict military protocol." Zokoskev said finally in a ruffled voice. "He is given a certain amount of leeway in this - he was not taught in the CCD, but the Australian military, so his methods are not CCD standard, you understand."
If the situation was not so grave, he would have smiled at that. The Australian Academy had forced him in at 16, but his methods had nothing to do with the Academy. They were just as disconcerted as the CCD soldiers. He did not do it on purpose to antagonize them - the bastards had forced him into training! - in fact, he had no idea why. He just...
Think you know better, you arrogant bastard , his inner voice whispered.
"It took me some time to understand," Zokoskev continued. "However, his methods are extremely effective. He has one of the most dangerous minds in the -"
The notion irked him, and he cut Zokoskev off with a tone like a freshly forged blade. "Do not mistake me,"
he said, aimed at no-one in particular. "I do not start wars. I do not order men and women to march to their deaths. I end wars. Every order I give is given not to satisfy protocol, but ensure the swiftest and most complete victory."
Zokoskev shrank in his seat - whether it was because he thought Michael was going to get himself killed, or the fire in his eyes, he was not sure. Michael continued in any case. "Of course, I am not a medic. My actions sow death and endanger the lives of many."
His gaze turned hard, his mind drawn to the Atharim and the wound in his arm. "I despise everything a soldier must become, but I can make sure that no lives are needlessly wasted on the whims of fools and madmen, and I shall do so here, since I have been 'chosen'."
The last word was bitten off with a tinge of scorn.
He looked at both Captain's before settling his gaze on Dr. Weston. "Tell me, if I may ask, what do you think about the situation? Do you believe that it can be resolved peacefully? You are an accquantance of the Ascendancy, and involved with his visit. Your opinion would be much appreciated."
And the spark that flared in the depths of his mind.
Zokoskev muttered under his breath before answering. Dr. Weston's flat stare was apparently unnerving the man. It did not bother Michael. After seeing the utter hatred, revulsion of the Atharim - the eyes of men and women determined to slaughter him like a wild beast - it was hard for others to unsettle him.
Blood poured down to the ground like raindrops, the exposed veins hanging like leaves off a tree from the thing's limp arm.
Yes, he unsettled himself more than anything in the world.
"Vellas does not always follow strict military protocol." Zokoskev said finally in a ruffled voice. "He is given a certain amount of leeway in this - he was not taught in the CCD, but the Australian military, so his methods are not CCD standard, you understand."
If the situation was not so grave, he would have smiled at that. The Australian Academy had forced him in at 16, but his methods had nothing to do with the Academy. They were just as disconcerted as the CCD soldiers. He did not do it on purpose to antagonize them - the bastards had forced him into training! - in fact, he had no idea why. He just...
Think you know better, you arrogant bastard , his inner voice whispered.
"It took me some time to understand," Zokoskev continued. "However, his methods are extremely effective. He has one of the most dangerous minds in the -"
The notion irked him, and he cut Zokoskev off with a tone like a freshly forged blade. "Do not mistake me,"
he said, aimed at no-one in particular. "I do not start wars. I do not order men and women to march to their deaths. I end wars. Every order I give is given not to satisfy protocol, but ensure the swiftest and most complete victory."
Zokoskev shrank in his seat - whether it was because he thought Michael was going to get himself killed, or the fire in his eyes, he was not sure. Michael continued in any case. "Of course, I am not a medic. My actions sow death and endanger the lives of many."
His gaze turned hard, his mind drawn to the Atharim and the wound in his arm. "I despise everything a soldier must become, but I can make sure that no lives are needlessly wasted on the whims of fools and madmen, and I shall do so here, since I have been 'chosen'."
The last word was bitten off with a tinge of scorn.
He looked at both Captain's before settling his gaze on Dr. Weston. "Tell me, if I may ask, what do you think about the situation? Do you believe that it can be resolved peacefully? You are an accquantance of the Ascendancy, and involved with his visit. Your opinion would be much appreciated."
"She saw a flaring halo around his head, radiant in gold and blue. It shouted of glory and power to come"
"No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it."