Zehn walked the length of the corridor, with foot soldiers in tow. His slight limp rocking his shoulders back and forth. The officers wore full battle gear and armaments. Zehn in his standard issue pilot gear. The soldiers were all atleast three inches taller than Zehn, who was small in comparrison to most people in his profession. His thin stature made him no more imposing than the average man. An onlooker would have been suprised at the looks of fear on the soldiers' faces as they followed their Commander.
"Here it is."
"Aye, Sir!"
They had arrived at an appartment door. The foot soldiers took up positions around the door, Zehn stood facing it. Each military appartment door on Cape Verde was identical, save for the name plate in the center. This one said 'L-CDR Ivan Voronov'.
"Now."
It happened in a fraction of a second. The door control panel was smashed by the butt of a rifle, the bolt lock shot through, the door wrenched sharply open, and a blaster round travelled out of the appartment grazing Zehn's right arm. The foot soldiers were frozen still. The round had burnt the skin around the graze and scorched a hole in the opposite door. Zehn looked at the graze, no discernable expression on his face, and returned his attention to the pitch black room.
"I hope you have more rounds in there... and someone competant to fire them."
"I'm more than competant. You're insinuating that I want to kill you quickly?"
"Heh, your first round was your last chance, Lieutenant Commander. Good of you to be ready for me though."
"Yeah, you should tell your men to be a little quietter when receiving orders. I'm suprised that 'Aye Sir!' didn't wake up the entire floor."
Zehn shot a steally look in the direction of the soldiers. They blanched. Voronov pulled himself out from under the bed, still in pitch black. Zehn entered the room and switched on a side light next to the door, which spread a thin layer of light into the center of the appartment. The room was sparse and cold, as all the rooms here were. The bed looked unslept in...
They squared up. Voronov's blaster back in it's holster. Both men staring into each others eyes. Zehn's neck was tilted upwards, Voronov being a good five inches taller. Voronov saw a smile flash across Zehn's face and immeadiately he knew what was coming.
"Heh-"
Zehn instantly dropped on to his good leg and reared back his right fist. It powered toward Voronov's stomach, but he was prepared. His left forearm parried the blow to the left as his right fist saught to connect with Zehn's face. Zehn shifted his weight to his left leg to dodge, wincing at the pain that travelled from his thigh up his back. Voronov's momentum took him to the side of Zehn, who saw his opportunity. He steadied himself and stamped down on the back Voronov's right knee, locking his arms around his neck as he stumbled to his knees.
Leaning in, he began to squeeze all the air out of his victim, until he felt it. The feeling of helplessness. Zehn let go, and Voronov fell to the floor spluttering. Zehn stood looking down at him, resting on his good leg. Through heavy breathing, and a smile, Zehn spoke,
"You'll never learn, will you?"
Voronov spluttered,
"I guess... not..."
"You guess not, what?"
"I guess not... Sir."
"So much contempt for your superiors. I should teach you a lesson... You, your rifle, now!"
One of the soldiers threw Zehn his rifle. He studied it. Standard issue, well kept, loaded and ready to fire.
"This will do nicely. Now close the door. Even stealed minds can be warped somewhat by mindless violence."
"Sir!"
The door was closed and Zehn stood over Ivan, the rifle pointed at his face. He smiled and lowered the rifle, holding his hand out. Ivan took it and got to his feet, still spluttering slightly. Zehn spoke with a hushed voice,
"Ahaha, did I hurt little Ivan?"
Ivan did the same,
"You shut your face. Next time I might not be so willing, and go for that leg of yours."
"Yeah, I know I know..."
Both knew Voronov was exceptional at hand to hand. Zehn's smile faded.
"That sh*t you pulled in training today was too far-"
Ivan held up his hand, and issued a blood curdling scream. Zehn followed with a manical laugh. Then both fell silent.
"Too far, Ivan."
"I know. I got caught in the moment... Would you have had me shot?"
"You know the answer to that... We're both here to serve the Coalition, albeit for different reasons. So if you stand in my way, you stand in the Coalition's way, and then you may aswell be dead."
Ivan looked at the rifle, still in Zehn's hand, contemplating.
"Yeah, I agree. I'll watch it in future."
Ivan held up his hand again. Zehn nodded and moved toward the metal closet in the corner, the butt of the rifle raised.
BANG!
"AAARRRRRGGGHHHH!!!"
This was repeated three times, ending again with Zehn's manical laughter.
"When's your surgery?"
"It hasn't been scheduled yet. Those Asgards have been quiet recently, but the Bretonians have come too close to Verde for higher comfort. They want me on constant standby. I suppose that's what comes with being a Commander."
Ivan nodded.
"Still not sleeping?"
"Can't remember the last time I did..."
Both men were lost in thought. Past days flashed through their minds. Zehn shuddered and came around.
"Better not beat you up too bad, eh? You're flying later today."
"Yeah. You better get going then."
Zehn turned toward the door and muttered,
"Don't go that far again. I'd hate to be the one to order your death."
"Aye, Sir."
Zehn smiled. He knew Ivan was too. He moved toward the door and readied himself. He began to breathe heavily, with a crazy smile across his face. Ivan had moved into the darkest of the corners and sat, uncomfortably with his head at an angle against the wall, only his outline was visible. Zehn looked back, and satisfied, he moved closer to the door and wrenched it open.
The soldiers fell back to let him out, trying to look inside the room as they did.
"That SCUM shouldn't be a problem from now on. Next time I won't leave him breathing!"
He closed the door and started down the hall, trying to suppress his limp. The soldiers hesitated. Then followed, silently.