Crash Landing

dream

Was it a little bit paranoid of me to assume that this drastically outdated ship, the Calypso, still had an active responding tracking device on it because the Commander insisted on having all of the ships, no matter what type they were, chipped with a tracking device like they were metal cages for animals?

Was it wrong for me to assume that the Commander, no matter how persuasive she may be with everyone else, was still going to hunt me down because I wasn't one of the thousands of people that she could fool with heavy-handed trickery into submission?

No, I don't think it was wrong at all.

I was being cautious with my decisions, even if they did seem reckless to the unsuspecting eye and mind.

These plans that were being enacted have been thought out carefully and now that they were in motion, I just had to keep the Commander off my ass.

And I meant that both literally and figuratively because as soon as the flickering lights came back, I was bathed in both the overhead bright lighting and the beaming rays from a fighter jet's headlights shining directly through the front windshield at me.

Because, as you could probably guess by now, the Commander was being a massive bitch and she decided to send some fighter jets after me which, of course, were readily at her disposal since these assholes had nothing else better to do with their time then to kiss the ground that she walked on as if she was God herself.

That's definitely the furthest knowledge from the truth though, the woman was something closer related to the Devil's spawn then she was to God.

Suddenly, the commanding voice that had taken control of this hellish hole in the middle of the fucking universe was speaking to me through the intercom system, the shrieking of her tone making me cringe inwardly with annoyance.

"Mabel Minerva! Turn your ship around right now or face the consequences–"

Too fed up with her antics, I rolled my eyes and turned off the intercom system, I wonder how she was even able to tune into the radio frequency on the speakers and hack into the intercom system.

Then again, the Commander was richer than the brightest minds out there, she could pay anybody to do anything that she wanted to.

With just a snap of her fingers, the Commander could do anything that she wanted at any time.

Dear God, she's just so fucking irritating though! I can't take anymore of her shit…

"Fine, then…."

I muttered under my breath as I grabbed onto the control sticks, my fingers clutching onto the sticks with the lightest sheen of sweat coating the powerful tools with its essence.

"You wanna play that game? We can play that game."

I said as the barest hint of a cocky smirk appeared on my face, it was time for these bozos to see exactly what I was made of.

Because if the Commander thought that I was just going to roll over and die on command, pun intended, then she was dead fucking wrong.

And I may add that I proved my point that I was indeed better at leaving these nincompoops in the dust when I pulled an evasive maneuver seconds later, a grunt leaving my lips as I yielded the ship quickly away from the fighter jet that was threatening to overtake the Calypso.

Yeah, that's not happening, at least not on my watch, that is.

Within seconds, I was fleeing the Commander's fighter jets with only a small bit of difficulty, it wasn't exactly an easy task to maneuver a ten-ton pound spaceship with lightning fast precision, and I couldn't hold back the sudden burst of nearly hysterical laughter that left my lungs as the shrieking voice of Commander Ophelia blasted through the speakers of my intercom once more.