Harbringer — Roleplayer Guild

As the others stepped in to congratulate Arianna, Gerard himself faded away behind them, his face still bearing that wide, paternal smile. As the others confirmed Gerard's theory, he gritted his teeth below th smile which became a bit tight lipped. He hated people like that Admiral the most. The ones that so callously threw lives away  without a second thought. He knew that all commanders sometimes had to make hard decisions, but Ardin had no remorse, no thought for the common man. Emperor's son or not, he was a terrible human being. He himself was half tempted to cast the UEE aside and join the coalition, and he had already been through several psychological tests which tried to weed out the seditious ones. He had been warned that he was borderline treasonous, but the UEE considered him too precious a pilot to simply exile. Not to mention too dangerous a potential enemy if the Coalition found him. To be honest, Gerard considered the Coalition's goals more virtuous than the UEE's, but his homeworld was under its domineering gaze. He took a deep breath. Now was not the time for these thoughts. 

As the shipboard AI warned them of the incoming hyperspace jump, Gerard leaned down and grabbed the nearest railing to steady himself. With a sudden shudder, the Lincoln's power cut off and cast them all into gloom before the lights came back on. Gerard himself felt his head throbbing with a deep panging pain for a second before it subsided. Hyperspace jumps were never really something he enjoyed. For a second he would always experience an intense migraine before it would subside just as quickly as it came. As he reopened his eyes, he found that he had separated himself a bit from his squad, standing aside as they crowded around Ari. It suited him fine. It was her day today, and Gerard was never really one to seek glory. Taking a deep breath as he stood back up to his full height, he heard Trapp whisper his dreaded words. AAR in 30 minutes. Gerard pushed his sweat slicked hair back. That gave him very little time, but he would still undergo his usual after battle ritual. Turning his back to his comrades, he started off first towards their shared quarters, his bootsoles ringing on the metal deck.

'More of those thoughts have run through my head,' Gerard wrote in French as he sat at his coner desk, though the slat of metal was overglorified, 'every time I go into battle now I question how righteous my actions truly are. Are the Coalition not virtuous in their fight for freedom as we attempt to return them to our fold? It reminds me of a mother putting a leash on her disobedient child. It sickens me. but it sickens me more that I am a part of it. I spare as many as I can but, whether by human fault or otherwise, the enemy pilots die. My own team seems as bloodthirsty as the wulferines back on Noveau France and it disturbs me to see them become such. I am proud of my comrades, but sometimes, I am not proud of their actions. Thought I write this and confide in this book, I must constantly reiterate to myself. I am Gerard Delacroix, member of the 7th MAS team of the 101st legion. I am a member of the UEE. I am not a traitor.'
"I am not a traitor..." he repeated quietly to himself as he put his autoquill down into its tiny inkpot. Gerard was a fan of the archaic, and these writing implements helped him to focus his mind. Hearing footsteps echoing down the corridor, Gerard quickly snapped the worn brown notebook shut and hid it away in the recesses of his uniform. "I am not a traitor..." he repeated again quietly as he poured himself a glass of wine to disguise his actions. The more his said those words, the more hollow they rang. Instead of sipping the glass quietly like such a fine vintage deserved, he downed the entire glass in a single gulp before getly placing it back into a small container which maglocked itself to the table. bidding those that entered welcome, he bantered around with them a bit before excusing himself to the shower. He had to at least look presentable.

As water ran over his defined musculature, Gerard found himself once again slipping into the dark corners of his mind, resting his arm against the wall as his head in turn rested araight his forearm. Those men he had killed today...what had they left behind? Wives? Children? His fists tightened. Did he have such a right to end their lives? He thought back to his time in the infantry, where he had learned the name Guillotine. He had slaughtered left and right in guerilla warfare without a second thought as the Coalition invaded, but time after time as they gathered survivors, he would listen to their stories and it would impact heavily on his mind. These were men and women who had lives, just like him. Some were forcefully drafted, just like him. He took a deep breath as he dragged himself forcefulyl out of his reverie. It was almost time for the after action report. running his arms over a few new flash burns, Geard prepared himself for the act to come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Having met up with the rest of the squad just before they entered the meeting room, Gerard deflected a few questions with good-natured responses, occassionalyl followed by a small chuckle. Being here was much better than being alone with his own thoughts sometimes. It explained why he preferred to be in the company of others, or nose deep within a good book. Or simply drunk out of his mind in his bed. As was customary, he had snuck a small bottle of wine in under his uniform, where it looked like he simply had too much to eat before hand. His still wet hair was slicked back  and held together with a black elastic band as it occassionally dripped water onto his uniform but Sara didn't care as she playfully tugged on his ponytail. Nor did Sokolov as he placed his arm over his shoudlers and tried to regale him with tales of his own homeland. As they entered the meeting room, they fell into silence, with Gerard shooting a glance at the stoic Trapp. He got no response. Taking his seat on a worn wooden chair, Geard took a shallow breath as he leaned back eliciting a quiet creak of protest from the seat. From there, Trapp began to go through the standard layout, with Gerard noting his confirmed kills as 3, along with joking about the cruiser with Wes.

Then, things took a turn. Trapp took out a box and started to recount the names of his previous squadmates, which only served to remind Gerard that the UEE pilots were people too, not only the Coalition ones. It was a solid anchor point for him, and served to reinstill Gerard's ideals of mercy. As Trapp quietened down, Gerard took out the bottle of wine he had been hiding and placed it onto the table with a quiet clunk, drawing eyes to him. he didn't let go of the musty old bottle. "Before we celebrate, I would like to put my own opinions into the air," he said as he stood up, his face considerably more morose and somber than usual, "I am...concerned with how dispassionate you people are about the enemy...the enemy they may be to you, but they are still human. I ask you to consider that they have a family too, just like you, before you pull the trigger." Locking eyes with Trent, he seemed to speak these words directly at him. "Do not simply treat them at numbers to be racked up, or as toys to be destroyed. They have feelings, husbands, wives, children, parents who love them. Not only the MAS pilots, but those who crew ships as well." Sitting back down with a heavy breath, he slid the bottle into the middle of the table. "I am not asking you to spare your enemy ...but to consider what you are taking from not only them, but all those they are connected to..." he glanced at Trapp before he uttered his next words, "the UEE is not the only faction to send letters home..." He sighed. "I am sorry for bringing such a thing up...but I needed to get off my chest, desole."
Harbringer Member

Death to Asgard!

Status

Recent Statuses

Bio

Most Recent Posts
