Post by Nomad on Jun 23, 2010 23:01:56 GMT -5
After the Death of Patrick Folie
“Heh…who would have thought he would of died before me…” muttered Alex as he stood above the casket of Patrick Folie. It was of course empty, as the body was never recovered.
In Alex’s hands was the envelope he had given Patrick weeks ago. The envelope had somehow found its way back to him, and now his story would not be told. It had been too long that he had been living this façade; this lie.
More troubling was the death of Patrick Folie, the once Zeon pilot who found himself commanding one of the most powerful Earth Federation fleets. It wasn’t always this way, as Alex remembered the times when their fleet was a small coalition of wounded and torn ships. Times have changed, and Patrick proved himself more than capable of leading.
“It is too bad we never had that drink, you bloody bastard!” yelled Alex, as he always did when speaking to Patrick.
The ceremony continued as people said their last goodbyes. Tales of Patrick's heroism were told, and tears ensued from some of the deck staff that had survived or who previously served with Patrick. Alex watched as the casket was launched into space to live with the stars. He lead a squad of saberfish to secure its path, shooting out black smoke for the occasion.
“I hope you find peace.” Alex mumbled as he stared out of the cockpit.
After the ceremony, he retreated, making his way to his quarters. As he lay in his bed, he drank down a bottle of whiskey and reminisced about his superior officer. Alex had just started to get over the losses at Odessa; now this felt worst. He had lost a friend, and it could have all been avoided if Alex was more alert, or aware. If he was quicker, faster, or generally a better pilot. That is what Alex thought at least. However, he would have to get over it like the last few deaths, after all, he was no longer a farmer, and this was a soldier's life.
“Heh…who would have thought he would of died before me…” muttered Alex as he stood above the casket of Patrick Folie. It was of course empty, as the body was never recovered.
In Alex’s hands was the envelope he had given Patrick weeks ago. The envelope had somehow found its way back to him, and now his story would not be told. It had been too long that he had been living this façade; this lie.
More troubling was the death of Patrick Folie, the once Zeon pilot who found himself commanding one of the most powerful Earth Federation fleets. It wasn’t always this way, as Alex remembered the times when their fleet was a small coalition of wounded and torn ships. Times have changed, and Patrick proved himself more than capable of leading.
“It is too bad we never had that drink, you bloody bastard!” yelled Alex, as he always did when speaking to Patrick.
The ceremony continued as people said their last goodbyes. Tales of Patrick's heroism were told, and tears ensued from some of the deck staff that had survived or who previously served with Patrick. Alex watched as the casket was launched into space to live with the stars. He lead a squad of saberfish to secure its path, shooting out black smoke for the occasion.
“I hope you find peace.” Alex mumbled as he stared out of the cockpit.
After the ceremony, he retreated, making his way to his quarters. As he lay in his bed, he drank down a bottle of whiskey and reminisced about his superior officer. Alex had just started to get over the losses at Odessa; now this felt worst. He had lost a friend, and it could have all been avoided if Alex was more alert, or aware. If he was quicker, faster, or generally a better pilot. That is what Alex thought at least. However, he would have to get over it like the last few deaths, after all, he was no longer a farmer, and this was a soldier's life.
