Chapter 24 - Self-Depiction

You can at least give some of these questions a look over. As you answer each one that pops up, most of them do read like the sort you'd answer applying for a job over the 'net, and you frown. Some of them, however, stand out.

How do you deal with deception? Aggressively, or Calmly? Judging by how you pushed IVORI into a corner after his story fell apart, you'd have to say you don't hold back much when you realize you're being played. You put down "Mostly Aggressive." I mean, you did let the thing talk itself into a corner in the first place, didn't you?

There's a few more of the lame questions and you tap the neutral answer in the middle ground for most of them.

Do you see those under your command as Tools? Or People? What kind of question was that? People! Very MUCH so. You chose the answer rating furthest from objectifying your crew. Damn who wrote this? Did they think you'd wake up some kind of..... oh. Yeah. You guess the Empire did turn people into numbers and statistics. 

You slap a few more of the boring boiler plate questions with nocomittal answers, but you keep an eye out for anything interesting... you remember the open worded questions, they got interesting, didn't they.

What matters more, winning or having a good time? Well having a good... well... wait in what context? Enjoying yourself during battle would be... sadistic... but it probably meant during games, like the card game test. You pick 'Reasonably Enjoying Oneself." as an answer, just to be on the safe side.

What position to you prefer, top or bottom? Here they go. Honestly you enjoyed being on the top, and judging by how you'd been all over Zoraida since you got into hyperspace... Your instincts say, 'Very Much Prefer Being on Top'. You chuckle, still. there was plenty of fun being on the bottom, and powering your way up... Huh 'Power Bottoming' was an actual answer, weird. You weren't sure that was the right term for a guy giving it from below but, hey, whatever. 

Where do you prefer to have sex? Okay if this was a set up for a butt joke, No. The extremes were 'In public, surrounded by strangers' to 'In my own bedroom, with the door locked.' Geez. What was the middle ground? 'In a comfortable, but relaxed environment?' Sure. Middle answer worked here.

How hard do you fuck? Yeah, this was going to be one of those tests... You sigh as you start answer a questionnaire out of a pornographic chat group. Everything from positions to preferences started coming up.

But how do you choose? At best, you vote for ideas that lean toward Zoraida, or the memories you have of the Troopers and your other crew members... You smile as you hope this will all trigger another memory, but instead, by the time your answering questions about how you let your compassion get in the way of pragmatism, huh, you start to realize the bar filling out on the bottom of the screen.

It's almost full, and now that you notice it, you see that it fills up with each question answer. That hadn't been there for the other question tests, had it? The bar is almost full when you come to what you're sure is the last question.

If you had to choose between your mission, and those under your protection, which would you sacrifice? Another one of these. Of course you'd protect them! 'I'd strongly choose to protect them!'

You wouldn't trust them to protect themselves? What? 'I'd strongly Trust them'!

Yet you don't trust in their own strength? No! 'I STRONGLY trust in them!'

THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU FIGHT BESIDE US, NEARLY DYING LIKE THAT, CAPTAIN? You're sweating as you stare at the words. They're floating and suddenly, so are you.

Gunshots, pain. You're armor is cracked and damaged.

"Run." You're voice sounds more like a machine than a man. Your helmet is doing most of the work, with all the blood in your lungs. "That's an order."

"CAPTAIN!" You open your eyes and there's fire and smoke around you. In the distance you see The Golden Dancer hovering just past a wrecked and burning commuter shuttle. Someone's screaming over the comm, and you can almost pick up an echo from where they are in the distance.

"RUN." Black armored troops close in on you, and you look up to see a face. Dark hair framing sharp cheeks, an upturned nose with the look of superiority plastered on it.

"Sup, Captain?" You laugh in your former friend's face. Then he shoots you in yours.

You're on your ass. In the training room. You're sweat dripping down your neck and your suit feels tight as if someone' holding you tight. Someone is. Zoraida has her arms around you, and you when look into her eyes, you see her tears, and realize your face is wet with more than just sweat. You sit there for a while, reflecting.


What next?