2. Commanders view
I steadied my hand and concentrated my mind, the war might be over in a matter of hours and I’ll be obliterated along with the rest of the squadron. I moved to a stool where I sat down and considered here I might be if this war hadn’t started. What would I be doing?
Whilst drowning in self-pity, signs of movement flickered out the corner of my eye. I stopped and let it move into focus. I felt my squadron also avert their gazes to the Robot struggling through the war zone. But he wasn’t struggling against the terrain or rusted heaps of metal, but against me, against my control.
I felt myself burning as the blood rushed to my cheeks. But why? Surely I was not burning with fear, fury or frustration for what was he really doing wrong. Nothing. He was doing nothing wrong and that’s why I was burning with torment.
A tear erupted from the corner of my eye and trickled down my cheek, for surely I have been somewhat of a monster to him, killing every ounce of hope ever produce.
He feels as we do and has been fighting against my control and overriding power forever, he is one of us. I would never send a comrade into battle, this is barbaric.
My cheek went numb and the skin felt raw as the cold wind blew against the now descending tear.
Before I (or anyone else) could stop me, I launched myself into the pit of death. Unexploded bombs, laser beams, traps, all lay in front of me barricading me from Znc15. But I knew what I had to do. I had to get there, to save him, this was a rescue mission.