Big O - Prelude : The First Big
Title: Prelude : The First Big
Genre: The Big O
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Roger Smith, Dan Dastun
Words: 2,616
Notes: This was started for the yuletide challenge last winter. Unfortunately, the aftermath of my surgery meant that I was too unrelentingly sick to get it completed and I defaulted so my recipient would have a story ready and waiting for them. Then began a nine month long bout of writer's block. I had the first half pretty well set and I would pull out the creased pages, reading it over and over and making repeated notes, but I had NO idea what the next sentence was going to be and I couldn't coax it out of my subconscious. Finally, at the absolute last minute, the next sentence just came to me out of the blue about 3 days ago. I wrote the second half of the story in approximately 48 hours and spent today getting the story read through by the lovely and talented therhoda and learan to whom I owe much thanks. I have archived this as a New Year's Resolution story just in time for the archive to close and ensured that I will be eligible to yuletide along with all the other cool kids again this year. Yay!
Paradigm City; some call it a city of amnesia. That's not to say that nobody remembers anything, but those experiences are written on a blank slate wiped clean more than thirty years ago. I prefer to think of this place as a human oasis. The last foothold of humanity in a wasteland created by the folly of man and god and the last place where humans are able gather together to live out their perfectly ordinary lives.
Dan Dastun sat at his desk and tried to concentrate on the forms spread out in front of him. He'd always known that promotion meant an exponential increase in paperwork, but what he hadn't realized was just how much he relied on the steady hum of noise in the squad room to help him focus. His own office was supposed to be a privilege, the kind of thing he'd envied since his days as a sergeant, but the reality of it wasn't nearly as attractive and leaving the door open to catch the noise from the hall wasn't any help. Frowning, he set aside the file he'd been unable to complete and picked up the next in the hope that maybe this one would hold his attention.
Then, in the next instant, Dastun was alert. He hadn't been paying conscious attention to the door or to the faint bustle outside of it, but something shifted, an unexpected movement followed closely by a smugly sardonic voice.
"You know," Lieutenant Smith said, slouching against the filing cabinet just inside the door. "I bet case files go a lot faster if you actually fill in the information."
His tensed muscles relaxed and Dastun leaned back into his chair. "Thanks," he said flatly. "I'll keep that in mind. Now, did you have a reason for coming here or are you jokers just lost without me?"
Smith's demeanor suddenly shifted, back straightening as he transitioned from the smart mouthed rake to the responsible officer and a darker edge crept into his voice. "Actually, there's a strange report that just came in from West Dome Number Three. Ops thinks it's just some kind of noise on the scope but I don't know, I can't see a false reading being that large or that consistent."
Dastun sat forward again, Roger had a good instinct. His mouth got him in trouble, but when it came to the business of protecting the people of Paradigm, there was nobody more dedicated. "How large is this anomaly?"
"The size of a building," came the grim reply. "And it seems to be moving."
Dastun placed his hands flat on the table in front of him and rose from his seat, he tilted his head up to look Roger Smith in the eye and said flatly, "Show me."
There are those who find our collective lack of history crippling; mostly older people who've lost their sense of who they are. But those of us too young to have lived through...whatever it was, have learned self reliance. Freed from limits and expectations based on what has come before, we can allow the sum of our experiences to guide us; we create our own moral compass. And if, as sometimes happens, a memory of the past surfaces, we can choose whether or not we allow it to dictate our actions.
They stood on a little-used observation platform clinging to the exterior of West Dome Number Three. Back in the early days of Paradigm, the Military Police had maintained regular sentries here and at similar platforms scattered across the city. That was before they'd realized that Paradigm was unique-there was no one left outside the city to watch for.
Lieutenant Roger Smith took the binoculars, not that they were truly necessary to see the thing as it lumbered towards the dome. It was eerily human in appearance, for all that it was the size of a small skyscraper. The light gleamed off the silver chrome plating its face and joints making it hard to look at directly, but with the magnification, he could focus on the areas cast in shadow. A quick look was all it took to see that for all its awesome power, the titanic contraption was clearly in a state of disrepair. Rust marred the cobalt chest plates and there were even places where wiring was clearly visible through gaps at its misaligned joints.
Despite all of that, it remained a hideous, awesome sight. Roger braced himself against the wind and refocused the binoculars on the trail the thing had left in its inexorable progress towards the city. Buildings that it hadn't walked around, but through and holes left in the ground where the dilapidated infrastructure under the empty streets wasn't strong enough to hold its weight. Such a machine could shake Paradigm to its very foundation.
A tap at his shoulder brought Roger back to himself and he returned the binoculars to Dastun's outstretched hand. "That's one hell of a false reading," he offered, grimly.
The comment earned him a sharp look out of the corner of the Major's eye. "That's enough of that," Dastun said, raising the binoculars to take a second look of his own. "Whatever it took to get us here, now we've got advance warning and we'll be able to do something about it." He frowned, peering through the binoculars. "I think."
Roger snorted, "You think? So much for confidence in your troops."
"Well..." Dastun began slowly, lowering the binoculars to fix his subordinate with a hard look. "We've got the advance warning to mount a defense and the full resources of the Military Police to bring against it, but I've never fought a megadeus before. I can't even begin to guess what kind of firepower it will take to get through that plating."
Something stirred inside of Roger, a hint of recognition coupled with a slight thrill that he quickly tamped down. Whatever it was, it was too complicated to sort out now, he tucked that moment, that flash of recognition aside to be dealt with when the crisis was past. Still, surprised by his own reaction, he turned towards Dastun, grabbing him by the arm.
"Wait…what did you say? Did you call that thing a...megadeus?"
Dastun was surprised by the sudden action, but made no move to pull away. Instead, he answered awkwardly, "I...yes. It's a megadeus."
Roger's eyes narrowed, "So you've seen one before."
"No, I..." suddenly self conscious, Dastun jerked his arm from the other man's grip. "That's just what it's called."
Roger turned away, looking back towards the great machine. "So you're saying you have a memory of this...megadeus?"
"No, I...No. Look," he continued with more confidence. "It doesn't matter what that behemoth is called as long as we stop it from razing the City."
"Yes, but..." Roger gestured towards the megadeus and the path of debris behind it. "Look at the raw power it has." His voice dropped, tone suddenly respectful. "What kind of defensive perimeter can we realistically set up that will hold off something like that?"
Dastun briefly allowed a pained expression to cross his features before raising the binoculars to look at the machine one last time. "Well, like I said, we have the full resources of the military police at our disposal. That should be enough to bring that thing to its knees."
Lieutenant Smith watched the dust rise as another abandoned building slid to the ground. "Should be, eh? I hope you're right."
This city of amnesia is no more than a half-filled metropolis whose crumbling buildings give testament to her former glory. Now, in this age of lost identity, we squat among those ruins. A city divided between those who can afford the trappings of a previous time, the beloved of the Paradigm Corporation huddled beneath their domes; and the forsaken scattered outside that protective shell, cast aside like so much chaff.
The streets smoldered, smoke rising from hollowed out buildings and the shells of armored tanks alike, but the massive man- machine still came. Despite Dastun's earlier words, the amassed firepower of the Military Police didn't seem to so much as slow its progress. Lieutenant Smith raised a pair of field glasses to once again look at the implacable mockery of a face. He wondered, not for the first time, if it was controlled by a human, or if the colossus had somehow reawakened with an inexplicable agenda of its own.
The brief squeal of bullhorn feedback drew him back to the situation at hand, the Captain was giving the order to fall back.
"Let's move it! Form the defensive line at point Alpha and protect the domes!"
Roger threaded his way through the chaos to find Dastun, grabbing his sleeve and turning him sharply around. "But Sir, if we retreat that far the casualties here will-"
Dastun yanked his arm out of the other man's grasp. He turned his gaze, keeping his attention on the controlled chaos of scrambling men around them. "That's not your concern, Lieutenant," he growled.
Anger finally overcame him. In the next instant, Roger Smith was toe to toe with his superior officer, red faced and shouting.
"That's bullshit and you know it! We're here to protect the people!"
Dan Dastun calmly took a step back. His voice took on a controlled edge as he spoke. "I shouldn't need to tell you, Lieutenant, but the people outside the domes gave up their right to Paradigm's protection when they turned their back on it." He turned towards the command vehicle, calling back over his shoulder as he strode away, "Now get to your position!"
Then, with a high pitched whine and a burst of intense light, the world turned upside down.
It could have been no more than a few moments later that Roger Smith found himself slowly struggling to a sitting position on the buckled pavement. He shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears, and found himself coated with fragments of brick and dust. Blinking his eyes to clear them, he scanned the area. There were any number of bodies lying nearby, covered in that same fine layer of detritus. Some were moving, but many more lay frighteningly still, limbs at wrong angles.
A few feet away, Roger caught sight of a familiar form. Dastun lay motionless next to a massive piece of masonry. He got to his knees with a start, scrambling the short distance to his friend's side.
Dastun was unconscious and losing blood rapidly from what appeared to be a massive head wound, but his pulse was still there-if faint. Roger could see figures moving now, through the dust. Steady figures calling out to the living and the dead. He waved them over, then set out to do what he could to take down this indomitable foe.
Paradigm City; The Paradigm Corporation; it's a rotten system that keeps its pernicious hold because nobody can remember any other way of living. The people can't see beyond the edges of their domes, protected from the unknown by the long arm of the military police. The corporation can't see beyond their bottom line; toting up the numbers, regardless of the cost in human lives. This city is rotting from the inside out. In the end, it will either have to change or it will collapse, leaving its citizens with anarchy and a dim memory of something, anything, better.
The stark white of the hospital walls was blindingly antiseptic. There was nothing of comfort or healing, only the crisp light of efficiency. Under ordinary circumstances, Dan Dastun was a particular fan of efficiency. But now, trapped in this unrelenting environment accompanied only by the dull ache in his head and the constant buzz of activity in the hall outside his closed door, he began to wish for something a bit more imperfect, a bit more...human.
He had just closed his eyes, when he heard the latch on the door click open. Not bothering to open his eyes, since he was unable to turn and look anyway, Dastun called over to the latest nurse determined to interrupt the monotony by ensuring he was as miserable as possible.
"If you're here for more blood, you're going to have to talk to the last vampire. I'm pretty sure she took all I had left."
There was an awkward pause, then a deep cough. Dastun's eyes opened at the unexpected response. Roger Smith stood at the foot of his bed, sleek in dark civilian clothes. He gave that rake's grin of his and replied in that insufferable tone of voice he seemed to muster at will.
"I didn't think you were into that, but I'm willing to bet that something can be arranged."
Dastun winced and tried to look away, hampered by the traction devices he still couldn't get used to.
"What're you doing here, Smith?"
"What?" he replied, spreading his hands wide. "Can't a man come to pay his respects to a superior officer-and a hero at that?"
Dastun snorted, it was all he could do to keep from rolling his eyes. "Since when," he asked pointedly, "have you ever treated me with respect?"
"Since," Roger replied lightly, "I've had to take your place down at the station. How do you keep up with all that paperwork anyway? It's ridiculous."
"What's ridiculous," Dastun growled back, "is you. I'm tired and hardly in the mood for your crap right now. Why are you here?"
The light left Roger Smith's eyes, and you could see the jovial exterior falling away as he straightened his back and squared his shoulders.
"I wanted to talk to you. I thought you should hear what's gone on since you've been out of commission."
There was a brief pause, before Dastun ground out a reply. "If you're talking about the megadeus, I've already heard how you drove it back. Or did you just want to show off your commendation?"
It was another long moment before Roger burst out at him. "Stop being an ass, will you? Just accept that I'm visiting because I wanted to. Because I thought you might, for a second, understand that there was more than petty political jockeying at stake here."
Dastun looked at him in genuine confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Roger shook his head and turned to leave. Pausing just at the edge of Dastun's field of vision, he jammed his hands into his pockets and stood up straight again. "I'm talking about leaving the Military Police. There's something else I need to be doing, some other way of helping people that doesn't involve picking and choosing based on the whim of Paradigm."
"Something else you need to be doing?" Dastun repeated slowly. "What are you talking about? A memory?"
Roger laughed sharply. "No, no memories. This is something I'm going to do for myself."
"Well then, what are you looking for? My blessing?"
Roger tilted his head back, like he was looking at the implacable white of the ceiling. "Your blessing? No." He brought his chin down again and turned back over his shoulder. "I just thought you should hear it from me; that I should pay the proper respect."
"Since when," Dastun repeated quietly, "have you ever treated me with respect? Just go."
Lieutenant Roger Smith turned an about face. He gave a sharp, letter perfect salute, then turned about face again and strode out of Dastun's vision towards the door which shut moments later with a heavy thudding sound.
Dan Dastun stared at the empty white wall in front of him for what seemed an eternity, but could have only been a few moments, before closing his eyes once again.
No Terms
Genre: The Big O
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Roger Smith, Dan Dastun
Words: 2,616
Notes: This was started for the yuletide challenge last winter. Unfortunately, the aftermath of my surgery meant that I was too unrelentingly sick to get it completed and I defaulted so my recipient would have a story ready and waiting for them. Then began a nine month long bout of writer's block. I had the first half pretty well set and I would pull out the creased pages, reading it over and over and making repeated notes, but I had NO idea what the next sentence was going to be and I couldn't coax it out of my subconscious. Finally, at the absolute last minute, the next sentence just came to me out of the blue about 3 days ago. I wrote the second half of the story in approximately 48 hours and spent today getting the story read through by the lovely and talented therhoda and learan to whom I owe much thanks. I have archived this as a New Year's Resolution story just in time for the archive to close and ensured that I will be eligible to yuletide along with all the other cool kids again this year. Yay!
Paradigm City; some call it a city of amnesia. That's not to say that nobody remembers anything, but those experiences are written on a blank slate wiped clean more than thirty years ago. I prefer to think of this place as a human oasis. The last foothold of humanity in a wasteland created by the folly of man and god and the last place where humans are able gather together to live out their perfectly ordinary lives.
Dan Dastun sat at his desk and tried to concentrate on the forms spread out in front of him. He'd always known that promotion meant an exponential increase in paperwork, but what he hadn't realized was just how much he relied on the steady hum of noise in the squad room to help him focus. His own office was supposed to be a privilege, the kind of thing he'd envied since his days as a sergeant, but the reality of it wasn't nearly as attractive and leaving the door open to catch the noise from the hall wasn't any help. Frowning, he set aside the file he'd been unable to complete and picked up the next in the hope that maybe this one would hold his attention.
Then, in the next instant, Dastun was alert. He hadn't been paying conscious attention to the door or to the faint bustle outside of it, but something shifted, an unexpected movement followed closely by a smugly sardonic voice.
"You know," Lieutenant Smith said, slouching against the filing cabinet just inside the door. "I bet case files go a lot faster if you actually fill in the information."
His tensed muscles relaxed and Dastun leaned back into his chair. "Thanks," he said flatly. "I'll keep that in mind. Now, did you have a reason for coming here or are you jokers just lost without me?"
Smith's demeanor suddenly shifted, back straightening as he transitioned from the smart mouthed rake to the responsible officer and a darker edge crept into his voice. "Actually, there's a strange report that just came in from West Dome Number Three. Ops thinks it's just some kind of noise on the scope but I don't know, I can't see a false reading being that large or that consistent."
Dastun sat forward again, Roger had a good instinct. His mouth got him in trouble, but when it came to the business of protecting the people of Paradigm, there was nobody more dedicated. "How large is this anomaly?"
"The size of a building," came the grim reply. "And it seems to be moving."
Dastun placed his hands flat on the table in front of him and rose from his seat, he tilted his head up to look Roger Smith in the eye and said flatly, "Show me."
There are those who find our collective lack of history crippling; mostly older people who've lost their sense of who they are. But those of us too young to have lived through...whatever it was, have learned self reliance. Freed from limits and expectations based on what has come before, we can allow the sum of our experiences to guide us; we create our own moral compass. And if, as sometimes happens, a memory of the past surfaces, we can choose whether or not we allow it to dictate our actions.
They stood on a little-used observation platform clinging to the exterior of West Dome Number Three. Back in the early days of Paradigm, the Military Police had maintained regular sentries here and at similar platforms scattered across the city. That was before they'd realized that Paradigm was unique-there was no one left outside the city to watch for.
Lieutenant Roger Smith took the binoculars, not that they were truly necessary to see the thing as it lumbered towards the dome. It was eerily human in appearance, for all that it was the size of a small skyscraper. The light gleamed off the silver chrome plating its face and joints making it hard to look at directly, but with the magnification, he could focus on the areas cast in shadow. A quick look was all it took to see that for all its awesome power, the titanic contraption was clearly in a state of disrepair. Rust marred the cobalt chest plates and there were even places where wiring was clearly visible through gaps at its misaligned joints.
Despite all of that, it remained a hideous, awesome sight. Roger braced himself against the wind and refocused the binoculars on the trail the thing had left in its inexorable progress towards the city. Buildings that it hadn't walked around, but through and holes left in the ground where the dilapidated infrastructure under the empty streets wasn't strong enough to hold its weight. Such a machine could shake Paradigm to its very foundation.
A tap at his shoulder brought Roger back to himself and he returned the binoculars to Dastun's outstretched hand. "That's one hell of a false reading," he offered, grimly.
The comment earned him a sharp look out of the corner of the Major's eye. "That's enough of that," Dastun said, raising the binoculars to take a second look of his own. "Whatever it took to get us here, now we've got advance warning and we'll be able to do something about it." He frowned, peering through the binoculars. "I think."
Roger snorted, "You think? So much for confidence in your troops."
"Well..." Dastun began slowly, lowering the binoculars to fix his subordinate with a hard look. "We've got the advance warning to mount a defense and the full resources of the Military Police to bring against it, but I've never fought a megadeus before. I can't even begin to guess what kind of firepower it will take to get through that plating."
Something stirred inside of Roger, a hint of recognition coupled with a slight thrill that he quickly tamped down. Whatever it was, it was too complicated to sort out now, he tucked that moment, that flash of recognition aside to be dealt with when the crisis was past. Still, surprised by his own reaction, he turned towards Dastun, grabbing him by the arm.
"Wait…what did you say? Did you call that thing a...megadeus?"
Dastun was surprised by the sudden action, but made no move to pull away. Instead, he answered awkwardly, "I...yes. It's a megadeus."
Roger's eyes narrowed, "So you've seen one before."
"No, I..." suddenly self conscious, Dastun jerked his arm from the other man's grip. "That's just what it's called."
Roger turned away, looking back towards the great machine. "So you're saying you have a memory of this...megadeus?"
"No, I...No. Look," he continued with more confidence. "It doesn't matter what that behemoth is called as long as we stop it from razing the City."
"Yes, but..." Roger gestured towards the megadeus and the path of debris behind it. "Look at the raw power it has." His voice dropped, tone suddenly respectful. "What kind of defensive perimeter can we realistically set up that will hold off something like that?"
Dastun briefly allowed a pained expression to cross his features before raising the binoculars to look at the machine one last time. "Well, like I said, we have the full resources of the military police at our disposal. That should be enough to bring that thing to its knees."
Lieutenant Smith watched the dust rise as another abandoned building slid to the ground. "Should be, eh? I hope you're right."
This city of amnesia is no more than a half-filled metropolis whose crumbling buildings give testament to her former glory. Now, in this age of lost identity, we squat among those ruins. A city divided between those who can afford the trappings of a previous time, the beloved of the Paradigm Corporation huddled beneath their domes; and the forsaken scattered outside that protective shell, cast aside like so much chaff.
The streets smoldered, smoke rising from hollowed out buildings and the shells of armored tanks alike, but the massive man- machine still came. Despite Dastun's earlier words, the amassed firepower of the Military Police didn't seem to so much as slow its progress. Lieutenant Smith raised a pair of field glasses to once again look at the implacable mockery of a face. He wondered, not for the first time, if it was controlled by a human, or if the colossus had somehow reawakened with an inexplicable agenda of its own.
The brief squeal of bullhorn feedback drew him back to the situation at hand, the Captain was giving the order to fall back.
"Let's move it! Form the defensive line at point Alpha and protect the domes!"
Roger threaded his way through the chaos to find Dastun, grabbing his sleeve and turning him sharply around. "But Sir, if we retreat that far the casualties here will-"
Dastun yanked his arm out of the other man's grasp. He turned his gaze, keeping his attention on the controlled chaos of scrambling men around them. "That's not your concern, Lieutenant," he growled.
Anger finally overcame him. In the next instant, Roger Smith was toe to toe with his superior officer, red faced and shouting.
"That's bullshit and you know it! We're here to protect the people!"
Dan Dastun calmly took a step back. His voice took on a controlled edge as he spoke. "I shouldn't need to tell you, Lieutenant, but the people outside the domes gave up their right to Paradigm's protection when they turned their back on it." He turned towards the command vehicle, calling back over his shoulder as he strode away, "Now get to your position!"
Then, with a high pitched whine and a burst of intense light, the world turned upside down.
It could have been no more than a few moments later that Roger Smith found himself slowly struggling to a sitting position on the buckled pavement. He shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears, and found himself coated with fragments of brick and dust. Blinking his eyes to clear them, he scanned the area. There were any number of bodies lying nearby, covered in that same fine layer of detritus. Some were moving, but many more lay frighteningly still, limbs at wrong angles.
A few feet away, Roger caught sight of a familiar form. Dastun lay motionless next to a massive piece of masonry. He got to his knees with a start, scrambling the short distance to his friend's side.
Dastun was unconscious and losing blood rapidly from what appeared to be a massive head wound, but his pulse was still there-if faint. Roger could see figures moving now, through the dust. Steady figures calling out to the living and the dead. He waved them over, then set out to do what he could to take down this indomitable foe.
Paradigm City; The Paradigm Corporation; it's a rotten system that keeps its pernicious hold because nobody can remember any other way of living. The people can't see beyond the edges of their domes, protected from the unknown by the long arm of the military police. The corporation can't see beyond their bottom line; toting up the numbers, regardless of the cost in human lives. This city is rotting from the inside out. In the end, it will either have to change or it will collapse, leaving its citizens with anarchy and a dim memory of something, anything, better.
The stark white of the hospital walls was blindingly antiseptic. There was nothing of comfort or healing, only the crisp light of efficiency. Under ordinary circumstances, Dan Dastun was a particular fan of efficiency. But now, trapped in this unrelenting environment accompanied only by the dull ache in his head and the constant buzz of activity in the hall outside his closed door, he began to wish for something a bit more imperfect, a bit more...human.
He had just closed his eyes, when he heard the latch on the door click open. Not bothering to open his eyes, since he was unable to turn and look anyway, Dastun called over to the latest nurse determined to interrupt the monotony by ensuring he was as miserable as possible.
"If you're here for more blood, you're going to have to talk to the last vampire. I'm pretty sure she took all I had left."
There was an awkward pause, then a deep cough. Dastun's eyes opened at the unexpected response. Roger Smith stood at the foot of his bed, sleek in dark civilian clothes. He gave that rake's grin of his and replied in that insufferable tone of voice he seemed to muster at will.
"I didn't think you were into that, but I'm willing to bet that something can be arranged."
Dastun winced and tried to look away, hampered by the traction devices he still couldn't get used to.
"What're you doing here, Smith?"
"What?" he replied, spreading his hands wide. "Can't a man come to pay his respects to a superior officer-and a hero at that?"
Dastun snorted, it was all he could do to keep from rolling his eyes. "Since when," he asked pointedly, "have you ever treated me with respect?"
"Since," Roger replied lightly, "I've had to take your place down at the station. How do you keep up with all that paperwork anyway? It's ridiculous."
"What's ridiculous," Dastun growled back, "is you. I'm tired and hardly in the mood for your crap right now. Why are you here?"
The light left Roger Smith's eyes, and you could see the jovial exterior falling away as he straightened his back and squared his shoulders.
"I wanted to talk to you. I thought you should hear what's gone on since you've been out of commission."
There was a brief pause, before Dastun ground out a reply. "If you're talking about the megadeus, I've already heard how you drove it back. Or did you just want to show off your commendation?"
It was another long moment before Roger burst out at him. "Stop being an ass, will you? Just accept that I'm visiting because I wanted to. Because I thought you might, for a second, understand that there was more than petty political jockeying at stake here."
Dastun looked at him in genuine confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Roger shook his head and turned to leave. Pausing just at the edge of Dastun's field of vision, he jammed his hands into his pockets and stood up straight again. "I'm talking about leaving the Military Police. There's something else I need to be doing, some other way of helping people that doesn't involve picking and choosing based on the whim of Paradigm."
"Something else you need to be doing?" Dastun repeated slowly. "What are you talking about? A memory?"
Roger laughed sharply. "No, no memories. This is something I'm going to do for myself."
"Well then, what are you looking for? My blessing?"
Roger tilted his head back, like he was looking at the implacable white of the ceiling. "Your blessing? No." He brought his chin down again and turned back over his shoulder. "I just thought you should hear it from me; that I should pay the proper respect."
"Since when," Dastun repeated quietly, "have you ever treated me with respect? Just go."
Lieutenant Roger Smith turned an about face. He gave a sharp, letter perfect salute, then turned about face again and strode out of Dastun's vision towards the door which shut moments later with a heavy thudding sound.
Dan Dastun stared at the empty white wall in front of him for what seemed an eternity, but could have only been a few moments, before closing his eyes once again.
No Terms