In this scene, Tornahdo and eleven others have been waiting to be briefed on their mission. The air is close, the heat is rising, but like the good, obedient soldiers the Ghost Corps has trained them to be, no one asks a question. The insertion of an "anti-emo" chip that deals out stinging reprimands ensures obedience is less than voluntary.
Excerpt: If it's such a good day...
After half an hour of waiting, no one had spoken.
Probably another test.
Tornahdo, for one, wasn't failing it.
The door opened, bringing a shock of icy air.
They all knew they were being sent to die. They were ghosts. That's what ghosts did. They hammered at Ultras until they perma-killed them or they kept Ultras busy until others escaped. But at least they were getting to breathe first.
In walked a person close to seven Terran feet. Silhouette looked male. Tall enough to be an Ultra. He strode into the center of the room and beckoned everyone closer.
No clue who hid behind the full-body fake-face. It cycled through various images, too fast to keep up. Like trying to count air bubbles rising in a pool.
Remaining at the back, Tornahdo stood at ease.
"This is the best day in human recollection." Speaking through a voice changer, the voice took on genderless robotic tones. "Today, we make history."
If it was such a good day, why hide behind a fake-face and voice changer?
The chip in Tornahdo's head pinged a stinging reminder to avoid such thoughts. He reined in his doubt and focused.
"This mission is called Lights Out. Your duty is simple. Chancellor Pietas is unconscious. You'll put him in a lifepod. That's it." The guy paused. "Questions?"
A tall ghost removed his helmet. "How can Ultras be unconscious?"
"The peace talks were a trap. When he and the Council arrived, we told them we'd jettison their module unless they entered their lifepods, which they did. Except Pietas, of course, so we siphoned the air out of the room. Before you go in, you'll hyperventilate, store up oxygen. This room is being pumped full at a high rate. Your chip will aid you."
Ultras held their breath ten times longer than humans. Tornahdo had trained to hold his five times longer. Pietas probably managed fifteen or twenty times.
Twelve of them. In a vacuum. Against the Ultra called Bringer of Chaos. Whose motto was, "Pain is a warrior's ally." No number of chips made that doable.
"You'll go in unarmed. Otherwise, there's a miniscule chance he'd awake and disarm you."
Miniscule. Like an ocean was a miniscule puddle. Tornahdo pushed past the pain caused by his traitorous thoughts and ignored the migraine-level headache.
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They all knew they were being sent to die. They were ghosts. That’s what ghosts did. They hammered at Ultras until they perma-killed them or they kept Ultras busy until others escaped. But at least they were getting to breathe first. Powerful lines and writing, Kayelle. Yeah, this is what war is.
I feel their pain. And you just keep upping the ante.
Tina, I’ve done my job then. Thank you. :)
Lisabet, so true. Chase your character up a tree and then throw rocks at them. :)
“No number of chips made that doable.” – This line inspires serious fear.
I’m glad the futility and fear come through. Thanks, Kate.