Author: NGTM-R PM
Sometimes it hurts, even when it's for things that aren't alive.Rated: Fiction K - English - Drama - L. Noin - Words: 386 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 1 - Published: 01-01-05 - id: 2200211
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Author's Notes: Short piece written as part of a larger story that's not yet ready. Post EW. Not much else to tell.
It was only a mobile suit, only a piece of equipment. And yet so much more. It was hers, her own. She had sat in that seat numerous times, more then she cared to count. More then she could count. She had watched the screens light up, seen the world through its eyes and manipulated the world through its hands. It was a feeling of godlike power, to be able to punch one's way through a small mountain, or fly through the void of space at speeds that put any living thing to shame. And such freedom. The freedom of flight, but not only that. With it she could go almost anywhere, was equally at home in the void of space or the depths of the sea.
She had asked much of this Taurus, so much. And it had delivered. It had suffered vast punishment to keep her safe, enough to kill her thousands of times over. It had given her the ability to defeat her enemies, and thereby to keep others safe. Without it, hundreds might be dead that would otherwise have lived. Billions, she corrected herself, recalling placing this Taurus between Epyon and Peacemillion, slowing Eypon down enough that it could not prevent Peacemillion ramming the Libra. This in turn prevented Libra from doing a crash-dive into Earth's atmosphere and causing an impact of global extinction proportions. It might even be argued this Taurus had saved the entire human race.
She owed the Taurus much. It deserved so much better then this. It deserved a quiet retirement in a museum somewhere, to be cared for and lovingly maintained forever, to be seen and recognized by future generations as the incredible thing it was, not merely a machine, but a living thing, a part of history. Not this. Not to be broken apart, the pieces scattered to oblivion, never to be seen again.
Yet at least one could have the option of shooting their own dog.
Lucrezia Noin gently depressed the button on the detonator and watched as the Taurus broke apart and the pieces spun crazily off into the void. And she cried.