She

Posted on Sat 21st Jul, 2018 @ 3:39am by

240 words; about a 1 minute read

Mission: Oblivion
Location: Independent Raider Crimson Assurance
Timeline: MD 4, 14:00

Everyone agreed that her dress was not-quite black. What they disagreed on was what color it was that shaded so deeply. The Klingon members of the crew maintained that it was deepest, darkest purple. The Romulans said it was green. The Humans claimed that it was a rust the color of long dried blood. She stood behind and to the left of the Captain when he sat in the command throne of Crimson Assurance. Her fingernails were eight centimeters longer than the tips of her fingers, colored gold and buffed to a high shine.

Only a handful of them had seen what happened to the last Captain, but all of them had heard, whispered in dark places where they thought she wouldn't hear. Crimson Assurance had taken them as a prize, initially. Three fools in a rich man's yacht who surrendered without a shot fired. And then the older man's prattling began. And the incessant reek of the smoldering weed he carried about. Until finally, the old Captain, the late Captain, had had enough, and laid hands upon the fool.

Then she had moved. Those who saw it said that it was beautiful, and terrible. That those golden fingernails had shone like justice, and cut like a machete. To a darkened, blistered piratical soul they loved her... and feared her. They despaired. They exalted. Her name was Gloriana, and they whispered it in terror.

 

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