Allanea
09-04-2007, 16:57
Kazansky Island, Greater Prussian Bay
He woke up.
He was still too weak to get out of bed, of course, and it seemed as if his entire body was made of wet paper – and damn it, his eyes hurt. It took a fair amount of squinting and blinking to get accustomed to the half-lit room. The ceiling lights were off, and the green lamp someone put on his desk provided only partial illumination, which made it difficult to recognise the person sitting next to his bed.
Eventually, he managed it.
“Vicky, don't be a self-righteous, half-assed, bitch. Either turn on the ceiling lights or get out of the room if you're afraid the light will wake me up. Either way, what the fuck are you doing on the island anyway? I'm no longer President. I'm just a glorified chief of staff, and I'm sure there's nothing you...”
“I quit, Alex. I'm no longer Secretary of State. You can stop insulting me now. I'm only here because I thought...”
“That's... very kind of you. “ - for a second, there was a tinge of gratitude in his voice. - “Now, get off my island. How many people do you have camped out here, anyway? A battalion?”
“Only about half a detachment, Alex.” - she smiled sadly - “Me, Tom Morrison, Kevin, and Jenny von Stossel.”
“Jenny?”
“You asked for her to be here when you last spoke to us. I called her at the Stossel Mansion.”
“Thank you, Vicky. Thank you so very much. She's asleep now, right?”
“That's right. We've been watching you in shifts.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“In case you haven't been following the news, Sister Victoria, I am not Great Leader anymore. I quit, okay? The only job I'm going to be doing for the Allanean people” - he smirked sadly - “Is a purely technical one. Congress and the White House will point me at people to kill, and I will merely decide the best way to kill them. That's what I am, Sister Victoria. A professional executioner with a thirty-million man army to use for an axe. That's all. No Great Leader here. Move along.”
And then Victoria Sheshet, Sister Superior of the First Convent of the Sisters of Liberty, did something she never imagined herself capable of. She swung, full-torso, and smacked Kazansky.
“Sasha, you fool! Do you think that we're some silly fanboys of yours, coddling you because we saw you on the news? Is that what this is all about? You are so stupid, really! You know Kevin's father! He played on your lap when he was a kid! You helped Tom create the Daggers, fight against all the damn suits that said 'no' to his project, you think this means nothing to him? You were at Jenny's parents' anniversary! Fuck that, you were at their wedding! Are you really so stupid to think we're here because we see you as some cardboard avenger, some hero from the history books?”
The boy remained silent, looking at Sheshet with bewilderment.
“Alex, you silly, silly git, we're here for you. The guy who holds pool parties and sings amateur covers to Meatloaf songs” - Kazansky grimaced - ”and wears silly T-shirts to conferences and who knows more stuff then I ever forgot. You're the guy who never holds grudges but always remembers that someone lent him a nickel back in 1987. You speak Quenya, and Latin, and French, and Chinese – and goddamnit, Alex, you're just you. And we like you and not your shiny armor or funky titles. That's why we're here.”
He smiled weakly. “You're repeating yourself.”
“Alex, you...”
“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have vented on you. It's just that I'm all weak and useless and...”
“Useless?”
“Nevermind. My mind is not working properly.”
“Should I get you anything?”
“Not really. Only... tell the other people, when Jenny wakes up, I want her to come and speak to me. Please?”
“Jenny. Okay.”
“If I'm sleeping at the time, wake me up. Shake me awake if you need to, okay?”
“Sure.”
“And... one more thing...”
“Turn off that interrogation light, I can't take it anymore. I want to sleep.”
The green light flicked off.
But the Field Marshal did not sleep.
He woke up.
He was still too weak to get out of bed, of course, and it seemed as if his entire body was made of wet paper – and damn it, his eyes hurt. It took a fair amount of squinting and blinking to get accustomed to the half-lit room. The ceiling lights were off, and the green lamp someone put on his desk provided only partial illumination, which made it difficult to recognise the person sitting next to his bed.
Eventually, he managed it.
“Vicky, don't be a self-righteous, half-assed, bitch. Either turn on the ceiling lights or get out of the room if you're afraid the light will wake me up. Either way, what the fuck are you doing on the island anyway? I'm no longer President. I'm just a glorified chief of staff, and I'm sure there's nothing you...”
“I quit, Alex. I'm no longer Secretary of State. You can stop insulting me now. I'm only here because I thought...”
“That's... very kind of you. “ - for a second, there was a tinge of gratitude in his voice. - “Now, get off my island. How many people do you have camped out here, anyway? A battalion?”
“Only about half a detachment, Alex.” - she smiled sadly - “Me, Tom Morrison, Kevin, and Jenny von Stossel.”
“Jenny?”
“You asked for her to be here when you last spoke to us. I called her at the Stossel Mansion.”
“Thank you, Vicky. Thank you so very much. She's asleep now, right?”
“That's right. We've been watching you in shifts.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“In case you haven't been following the news, Sister Victoria, I am not Great Leader anymore. I quit, okay? The only job I'm going to be doing for the Allanean people” - he smirked sadly - “Is a purely technical one. Congress and the White House will point me at people to kill, and I will merely decide the best way to kill them. That's what I am, Sister Victoria. A professional executioner with a thirty-million man army to use for an axe. That's all. No Great Leader here. Move along.”
And then Victoria Sheshet, Sister Superior of the First Convent of the Sisters of Liberty, did something she never imagined herself capable of. She swung, full-torso, and smacked Kazansky.
“Sasha, you fool! Do you think that we're some silly fanboys of yours, coddling you because we saw you on the news? Is that what this is all about? You are so stupid, really! You know Kevin's father! He played on your lap when he was a kid! You helped Tom create the Daggers, fight against all the damn suits that said 'no' to his project, you think this means nothing to him? You were at Jenny's parents' anniversary! Fuck that, you were at their wedding! Are you really so stupid to think we're here because we see you as some cardboard avenger, some hero from the history books?”
The boy remained silent, looking at Sheshet with bewilderment.
“Alex, you silly, silly git, we're here for you. The guy who holds pool parties and sings amateur covers to Meatloaf songs” - Kazansky grimaced - ”and wears silly T-shirts to conferences and who knows more stuff then I ever forgot. You're the guy who never holds grudges but always remembers that someone lent him a nickel back in 1987. You speak Quenya, and Latin, and French, and Chinese – and goddamnit, Alex, you're just you. And we like you and not your shiny armor or funky titles. That's why we're here.”
He smiled weakly. “You're repeating yourself.”
“Alex, you...”
“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have vented on you. It's just that I'm all weak and useless and...”
“Useless?”
“Nevermind. My mind is not working properly.”
“Should I get you anything?”
“Not really. Only... tell the other people, when Jenny wakes up, I want her to come and speak to me. Please?”
“Jenny. Okay.”
“If I'm sleeping at the time, wake me up. Shake me awake if you need to, okay?”
“Sure.”
“And... one more thing...”
“Turn off that interrogation light, I can't take it anymore. I want to sleep.”
The green light flicked off.
But the Field Marshal did not sleep.