Ross’ subordinates had tried to convince him to transfer the flag, but he’d refused every time. If Rhodes still had a weapon to fire and a reactor left to power it, her admiral would stay with her, and if she succumbed then he would go down with her. Ross was a bit of a romantic, and he tended to personify his ships. Abandoning a vessel that was still giving its all to the fight just seemed wrong to him. His staff tended to think he would have been more at home on the deck of a wooden ship, cutlass in hand, fighting to the bitter end. “Report from Celestia, Admiral. Captain Pharris is dead. Celestia’s bridge is destroyed, and the 1st officer is running the ship from the emergency control center.” Janet Randall had been Ross’ tactical officer since his first ship command, and she’d come with him on every posting since. “Very well, Commander.” His voice was like iron. Neil Pharris had been his classmate at the Academy, and a good friend in his younger days, though they’d grown less close as duty and responsibility took more of their time. He felt for the men and women dying on his ships, and their comrades struggling to keep tortured machinery working, but they needed one thing from him now, above all else. Strength. They could have their own fears, cry for their own pain, but they needed to see their commander as a pillar of solid stone.
What do You think about The Fall: Crimson Worlds IX?
