Legends: House Asunder
by Grey Bard
"I want him dead!" Captain Crais roars from the other end of the hall, louder than we have ever her heard him until sixty three arns ago. I manage not to wince.
It's started. Tauvo is dead sixty-three arns and already it's started.
Looking at us now you would find it hard to believe that less than a weeken ago we were serving one of the best in the Armada. But then, Tauvo was alive.
"What does he want? We're doing our best." grumbles my comrade beside me. "We'll catch the murdering dren. What's the problem? No one can outrun us forever."
No one would have thought to say that ago, but then Tauvo was alive.
Our captain is scaring us. We are used to orders from on high, not screaming irrational demands.
Most of us are in shock, but frankly, I'm not as surprised as I would like to be. There was always something off about our Captain Bialar Crais of the Pleisar Regiment. He was always a little too fast, a little too fierce, a little too alert. As if he didn't have to waste any time on the effort of sanity. After all, that's what Tauvo was for.
"Do you think that pilot should have been sentenced? He was awful hasty..." a particularly young tech says to his fellows as they walk by. It shows how deep this has gone. Even our lowest are worried.
"Who cares?" asks another tech callously. "They'll catch the murderer and we can all get back to real work.: This is generally agreed to be a good idea. A few look troubled. This conversation could never have happened sixty three arns ago, but then Tauvo was alive.
Tauvo was no one special. A little softer than most soldiers, a little warmer, but no one to worry about. I think that's why our captain loved him. In the eyes of his brother, our captain was a hero, a general, a god. The captain that would never allow any of his people to come to harm, always protect us. A brilliant man, a powerful man, one that could do no wrong. For Tauvo. And so, he made sure that he didn't. For Tauvo. After all, the captain was a great Peacekeeper leader, he saw that in Tauvo's eyes.
One of ours groans with irritated weariness. This noise meets a mixed reaction of quick tight smiles of sympathy and cold reproachful looks. The regiment is tired. Most of us have been on extra duty at some point in the last three solar days I wonder if this will become standard practice. It wasn't sixty three arns ago, but then Tauvo was alive.
But Tauvo Crais is dead, and his death has taken away our captain, our ship, our unity. Some will hunt the murderer all the harder for it, and some will give up entirely. Either way, nothing is the way it was three arns ago.
D*mn you, Tauvo.