Snippet #1030969

Arthur smirked, shaking his head. "Oh come now. Unless your father was a captain of the Jupris fleet, it's very unlikely I killed him. Good sir, I think you need to define people better. Yes, I'm a federation pilot, and yes, I'm employed to deal with the Jupris Coalition. But that does not mean I harbor any personal hatred for you." He met the gaze of the pilot, staring into his deep cold eyes. He felt his hatred - pure, white anger - and knew full well this pilot was definitely not schooled in anger management.

He then paced around the pilot, looking up and down his form, examining him like some carefully. "In fact, you fascinate me. Your burning desire to kill me is something you do not hide, but if you bemoan your own fathers loss, then why do you rob other families of their fathers too. Many married fathers join the forces, I should have you know." He stopped again, turning to face Jarvis, shaking his head. "Your anger, your mind-numbing passion for killing my kin is exactly what will drive this war on, for those children left behind will come to scorn you as you scorn them. Before long, no-one will consider peace."

He knew the word was outdated, useless and irrelevant, especially in a room filled with a mercenary pilot, two Jupris pilots and an arms dealer, but peace was still an idea he clung on to, the idea that both factions could walk away from this alive, before it's too late, and every man thinks like the hothead before him. Then again, he was a captain, he mused. The closest he ever came to the war was measured not in meters, but in kilometers.