The Tournament
Round 1
Max Fields (offense) vs Roland Windom
1-25-2035
"We've reestablished Wormhole Integrity, Captain." Second Officer Max Fields reported.
Captain Roland Windom nodded. "Take us home, Mr. Fields. I'll be in my quarters."
He turned towards the lift that would take him from the bridge. He pressed the button and glanced around as he waited for the doors to open. Only half of the bridge crew was present. The rest were either dead or on the medical level. The bridge looked painfully empty now. Roland shook his head to clear his thoughts and stepped into the lift.
As the doors were closing, Captain Windom heard something very disturbing. "Figures he'll leave us to clean up his fucking mess." Someone, it sounded like the highest surviving Security Officer, growled.
The doors closed and the lift started down before there was an answer. He had to have heard that wrong, hadn't it? It wasn't possible that someone had the balls to say such a thing with the Captain even barely off the bridge ... and in front of his most loyal officer and highest ranking survivor behind the Captain himself! Max Fields would smack someone across the bridge if they got out of line!
There was a shudder as the ship entered the wormhole that would take them home. The shudder reminded Roland of something. It was very disturbing. It was on the tip of his mind ... and then he lost it.
In any case, there was nothing to worry about. He just hadn't heard the crewman correctly.
The lift deposited him on E deck, the level containing all of the officer's quarters. Half of the doors he passed were open and filled with crewmen boxing up the dead men and women's belongings for storage.
Roland bumped into one of these packers as she backed out of a room with a filled mobile crate. "Oh, sorry crewman."
The Spaceman First Class glanced around with bloodshot, tearstreaked eyes. When she saw who had made contact with her, the eyes became hard. She stopped moving, waiting for him to pass. But she didn't say a word in reply. Worse, much worse, she didn't straighten her back in attention.
For the first time since taking command over from the very popular Captain Hines six months ago, Roland felt awkward in front of a crewman. "Um, did you know him?" He indicated the room.
"You might say that." The crewman replied bitterly. "We were in love. Our terms were up next month and we were getting out and starting a farm together on Juno."
Captain Windom's eyebrows shot up. "But, he was an officer and you're just a crewman! That's a court-martialable offense!"
The crewman brushed rudely past her Captain, pulling the crate behind her. "I'll tell you what, Cap'n. Why don't you write him up for it? Put it on his permanent fucking record?"
With that she started pulling the crate back towards the lift.
Roland's face flushed. He had been willing to let the insolence and outright defiance slide because she was obviously grieving. But this was going too far. He put his communicator to his lips. "Sec Office, Lt. Billings!"
The retreating crewman didn't react, though she could obviously hear him.
"This is Sec Office. Haven't you heard? Billings is dead? So are Williams, Vaqura, Goode, and Holden. I'm the highest ranking Security Officer left in this shithole who's not assigned to the precious bridge!"
Roland winced. He should have identified himself and saved this poor guy the stress and embarrassment he was about to feel. "Sir, this is the Captain speaking!"
"I know!" The Security Officer shot back. "Everyone recognizes your horse whinny of a voice!"
The mutinous crewman ahead gave out a loud laugh before disappearing around the corridor's curve.
Roland felt a chill go down his spine. This wasn't good. "Crewman!" He snapped. "Put me in touch with someone else at this office and then set your ass down and wait for the repercussions of your conduct!"
"Sure thing, boss." The smartass held the comm away from his mouth and shouted. "Hey! Anyone else in here? Can someone who didn't die because of the incompetent bastard running this ship please come to the comm?" Several moments of silence followed. Then the smartass was back. "Sorry, I'm afraid everyone is too fucking dead to talk to you right now."
"That's impossible! I saw the field reports!" Roland protested. "We only lost about half of our landing party!"
"That's true. But did you see the medical report? You were in such a hurry to send us down there that you wouldn't let the medical team inoculate us against their diseases. Most of the people who made it back to the ship are DEAD! Thank god Doc quarantined them when they came back or the rest of us would be too!"
This was impossible. Why hadn't anyone told him? There could only be one reason. Roland dropped his comm on the floor and raced to his quarters. He ignored the glares from the few people he passed, stabbed the button that scanned his fingerprint and opened his door, and darted inside.
His pulse gun was in his desk. He felt better once he had reached the drawer and pulled the weapon out.
How many people were left alive on this ship? A hundred? Less? How many of them were still loyal to him? Less than ten? He was royally screwed. Once they had worked up the nerve, they would seize him and flush him out the nearest sanitation tube.
It hadn't been his fault, dammit! The Pendragon people hadn't been reasonable so he'd been forced into a show of force. A show that had quickly turned bloody. "I was just following orders." He muttered aloud.
His only chance now was to make it to a life buoy and hope someone friendly heard the signal and picked him up. A bank of buoys were just one floor down.
Pistol in hand, Roland rushed back to his door and opened it.
The crewman who had accosted him earlier was standing in the doorway holding a live welding torch. "Going somewhere, fuckbag?"
That answered the question of when they would get the nerve. Roland shot her, jumped over the twitching corpse, and raced down the corridor. The hissing of the torch burning into the deck followed him halfway to the lift.
Fortunately no one cleaning out the rooms had heard the pulse. They were quiet weapons and he had never been more grateful for this fact.
He reached the lift without incident and pressed the button. While he waited, he pressed the button five more times.
The doors finally slid open. Roland breathed a heavy sigh when he saw no one was inside. Good. He pressed the next lowest level and waited with his pulse gun pointed at the doors. The lift went down one level and stopped. The doors slid open.
No one was in sight. Roland could see the bank of life buoys from here. He raced out of the lift. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something he was overlooking. That he was being outmaneuvered somehow.
And why had the shudder of hyperspace felt so hauntingly familiar to him?
Roland reached the first life buoy and entered the code to open its airlock doors. While he waited for the doors to cycle, he looked both ways. The corridor was still clear both directions. He was going to make it.
The doors finished cycling. Roland started to rush into the life buoy ... had gotten as far as the middle of the airlock, when he realized someone was already standing in the buoy.
"How very predictable." Second Officer Max Fields said derisively. "Rattle your cage a little and you run to the nearest life buoy. There are four banks of buoys on this ship, but I knew you would pick the closest bank. And that you'd even pick the closest one to the lift. Pathetic."
Roland started to raise his pulse gun but it was too late. Fields had already trained his on the doorway and had been tracking the Captain since he entered.
Max Fields fired. Roland screamed as he was thrown across the airlock and back out into the corridor.
The world was already beginning to dim as Fields stepped out of the life buoy, his pulse gun still smoking. "Don't think of this as mutiny, Captain. Think of it as early retirement." He raised his pistol and fired again.
A shudder passed through the world...
Roland opened his eyes. He sat up groggily and rubbed his head. He'd practiced many times with Sissy leading up to this Tournament, but he still wasn't used to the feeling of his real life rushing back into his head.
Max Fields was already up and standing before him, offering a hand. "Good game."
Roland smiled and shook his hand. "You got me good. Very predictable indeed." He sighed.
The reporters were rushing in. Max glanced at them before returning the smile. "We're both underdogs in this thing, but I don't think this will be the last time we meet. Good luck until then."
"Thanks." Roland said, wincing as he got to his feet. The imaginary pain hurt a lot worse when you weren't selfaware, he'd noticed.
Home
Gabrielle Sallor (offense) vs Kurt Shilling (defense)
Damien Johnson (offense) vs Kyle Devore (defense)
Katya Floski (offense) vs Kim Jong (defense)
Anne Layden (offense) vs Sissy Crydom (defense)
Harry Brown (offense) vs Eli Vaquez (defense)
Leo Rameriz (offense) vs Alyson Kerrigan (defense)
Blake Ezor (offense) vs Julie Amore (defense)
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