I stand on the ruined deck of the battlecruiser Brittania, a fox in a burnt and
tattered frock coat haunting a cloud of ice crystals and acrid smoke. Cracked
command screens flicker and strobe, electricity snarls and flares in serpentine
arcs across the plating of the floor. To my left the hull is completely gone, a
forcefield the only barrier between me and the cold edge of the galaxy.
"You've lost, Admiral."
I turn, one ear going back, and behold a hologram. It's *him*. Of course it is.
"Surrender now and I may execute you swiftly," the flickering phantom continues,
the shadow of a hood hiding his face.
Glancing away I see three enemy battleships, not through the view screen but the surreal
and dizzying rip. A million stars frame them.
I have one move left. "Initiate self destruct. Authorization Alpha Alex Two One Six
Seven Five."
"Fool!" the hologram screeches. He loses control of himself and claws at my face,
which is utterly ridiculous, and I catch a glimpse beyond the cowl, of a wild eyed
coyote with a huge scar tracing ugly furless pink from his forehead to the nape of
his neck.
Some say it's why he's gone mad. Yet I know that's not true. I knew
him once. He hadn't changed at all despite his brush with death.
"You'll pay for this," he snarls. "I'll-"
My laughter is bitter. "Save it, little brother. See you in Hell."
The hologram takes a step back as if slapped, shadowed jaws parting. I think he's
going to say something else, sure he is actually, but then reality flares white.
I'll always wonder what it was.