molten lead were poured down his throat. His crew were gone, all gone. Chopped then chewed then finally stewed, to slide down some foul creature’s gullet. Except for what they saved for him. He struggled against the hands that held his head, but they were too many. No commander should know how his crew tastes.
Something seized his leg and he screamed the pitiful wail of a being once strong in mind and body, now reduced to formless writhing mass by a mind closing in on itself. He kicked and swiped, his legs pistoning in short spasmodic jerks to break free from the vice like hands that spread from his legs, to his arms, to his chest. Pressing him down and pinning his arms from his sides ready for the blades to descend. He could see them now. Vague shadowy silhouettes, their whispering voices, telling him he had to stop fighting, he should not resist. That everything would be alright if he just gave into them. Denz remained defiant. He told them he’d never submit to their savageries. He’d never surrender. Never give in. They’d have to tear his soul from his wretched body before they could have him. And it was with teeth bared and tears in his eyes that Denz lifted his head to roar his defiance into the clearing image of Malcolm Canthouse.
Chapter 8
Avery leant against a stanchion in the corner of the conference room, his legs crossed and left hand supporting his right elbow as he massaged the fatigue from his eyes. The eight seats around the oval table were occupied by the different heads of department, all of whom sat in a depressed silence.
Several minutes passed before the door opened and Canthouse entered looking washed-out and destroyed. He pulled his chair out but remained standing as he stared at the tablets he placed on the table, He gave the tablet a considering tap of a finger before pushing the chair back and facing his audience.
“Right. Commander Denz originally arranged this meeting as an after action review to evaluate the performance of the ship and crew, and to discuss any outstanding details regarding repairs and resupply. But first I think it’s important to address a more recent issue, which is of course, Commander Denz himself and the episode that occurred in the canteen.”
His audience remained quiet as he moved to the table and slid his finger across the screen of the tablet. Canthouse considered the digital note for several seconds before taking a step back.
“Earlier today, I visited the surgery where the commander was resting comfortably. The surgeon informed me his vitals were all normal and he was resting well without the aid of a sedative. Why he ended up in the surgery nobody’s entirely sure. Statements from those present at the time say that one minute he was eating breakfast whilst working on a tablet, the next he was beneath the table in some form of fit and crying for someone to save his crew. And ...” Canthouse fell quiet as he stared at the notes on the tablet, his hands in a splayed pyramid near his stomach. “You know,” he rubbed his eyes and face. “I asked the surgeon if he could explain what happened, as I’m sure I’ll bugger it up, But currently he can’t leave the surgery as it’s overcapacity and they don’t have enough staff as it is. But what it comes down to is this: the commander has had a psychotic episode. We’re not really sure what brought it on, but what I can gather from what he said as we held him down is something happened to his former crew of the Bristol, something unpleasant, and he appears to have relived some portion of it in front of those present at the time.”
A beep from Avery’s tablet saw him retrieve it, swipe the screen and return it to the table. He shook his head at Canthouse as he returned to his place by the stanchion.
“Now I know we were all told that the majority of the former crew were killed in the final battle with The Koll, with those who had survived the battle succumbing to their injuries on the
Something seized his leg and he screamed the pitiful wail of a being once strong in mind and body, now reduced to formless writhing mass by a mind closing in on itself. He kicked and swiped, his legs pistoning in short spasmodic jerks to break free from the vice like hands that spread from his legs, to his arms, to his chest. Pressing him down and pinning his arms from his sides ready for the blades to descend. He could see them now. Vague shadowy silhouettes, their whispering voices, telling him he had to stop fighting, he should not resist. That everything would be alright if he just gave into them. Denz remained defiant. He told them he’d never submit to their savageries. He’d never surrender. Never give in. They’d have to tear his soul from his wretched body before they could have him. And it was with teeth bared and tears in his eyes that Denz lifted his head to roar his defiance into the clearing image of Malcolm Canthouse.
Chapter 8
Avery leant against a stanchion in the corner of the conference room, his legs crossed and left hand supporting his right elbow as he massaged the fatigue from his eyes. The eight seats around the oval table were occupied by the different heads of department, all of whom sat in a depressed silence.
Several minutes passed before the door opened and Canthouse entered looking washed-out and destroyed. He pulled his chair out but remained standing as he stared at the tablets he placed on the table, He gave the tablet a considering tap of a finger before pushing the chair back and facing his audience.
“Right. Commander Denz originally arranged this meeting as an after action review to evaluate the performance of the ship and crew, and to discuss any outstanding details regarding repairs and resupply. But first I think it’s important to address a more recent issue, which is of course, Commander Denz himself and the episode that occurred in the canteen.”
His audience remained quiet as he moved to the table and slid his finger across the screen of the tablet. Canthouse considered the digital note for several seconds before taking a step back.
“Earlier today, I visited the surgery where the commander was resting comfortably. The surgeon informed me his vitals were all normal and he was resting well without the aid of a sedative. Why he ended up in the surgery nobody’s entirely sure. Statements from those present at the time say that one minute he was eating breakfast whilst working on a tablet, the next he was beneath the table in some form of fit and crying for someone to save his crew. And ...” Canthouse fell quiet as he stared at the notes on the tablet, his hands in a splayed pyramid near his stomach. “You know,” he rubbed his eyes and face. “I asked the surgeon if he could explain what happened, as I’m sure I’ll bugger it up, But currently he can’t leave the surgery as it’s overcapacity and they don’t have enough staff as it is. But what it comes down to is this: the commander has had a psychotic episode. We’re not really sure what brought it on, but what I can gather from what he said as we held him down is something happened to his former crew of the Bristol, something unpleasant, and he appears to have relived some portion of it in front of those present at the time.”
A beep from Avery’s tablet saw him retrieve it, swipe the screen and return it to the table. He shook his head at Canthouse as he returned to his place by the stanchion.
“Now I know we were all told that the majority of the former crew were killed in the final battle with The Koll, with those who had survived the battle succumbing to their injuries on the
Similar Books
