Isolde: It’s like dancing


Under the consciousness of her craft she could feel her heart beat. She could feel the bridge of her foot start arch and she could feel the tension in her legs, her arms out stretched. The performance was about to begin.

Under the hood of her interdiction class vessel, she was plotting routes, attacks, counter attacks, and exits. Off in the distance were explosions, wrecks and debris from the collision of two gigantic coalitions. Her eyes, flickered between two points: the shining beacon of her sister clad in armor and the golden dragon raining down electromagnetic fire on them. The formations of the two fleets resembled a dance between two snakes, eating each other’s tails.


She maintained communications silence except for one person. Her eyes in the fight, she could always depend on her. Her eyes darted on her status in the fleet. They had just fired a broadside and in the distance an explosion followed.

Maybe it was one too many. The enemy formation started breaking.

En avant.

“Isolde, commit, commit, commit!” Broke through the silence.

Tendu en croix…




Isolde: Reclamation

I’ve always wanted to be a dancer. When I was younger, my mother would take me to see the shows. I think she wanted me to be one. I looked up at her and she was crying. I asked her why. She took my small head and pressed it against her chest as she whispered a few words in my ear. I was too young to remember what exactly she said.

When the show was over, they were waiting for us.

Reclamation of property they said. I never saw her again.