My Idea Box

ORIGINAL IDEA: Dreaming of Fickle Things

The tiny forms of Vulcars blotted a few stars while flying overhead. Their white shots fell upon the blood-red machines, and explosions rang every corner. Watching from afar, Rumia was...

Wait, where was she?

A man in grey space armor came from the side. "We're breaking through the last line!" he reported. "What are you orders, commander?"

Orders? Commander? What was going on?

Rumia blinked through her HUD for answers. Through its screen, the metal ground destroyed turrets and large holes were left behind by the unmistakable shots of Gemini fighters. They carried on, from a few feet in front of Rumia down the landscape, if it could be called that now. There was one thing that remained in the settling clouds of dust: a tower. Specifically, a ship tower shaped like the double-horned insignia of the cursed Taurans.

This was no land. Rumia had been standing on the Tauran flagship. The carcass of every other ship floated nearby. The flagship was the only one left in the shredded Tauran Flotilla.

Shredded, Rumia realized, by her fleet. Under her command.

Now, she knew what to do. She eyed the ship tower, where the last of the Tauran Flotilla were hold up. "Any word of surrender?" Rumia asked, her voice rumbling. Her soldier, donning the same armor, shook his head. "Very well, tell the men to relocate to our position..."

The saluting soldier relayed the command through his own signal. That one soldier was joined by his fellow comrades, squadrons of Gemini soldiers and agents leaving the tower in place. They all gathered by Rumia, who had been sitting the entire time atop the barrel of a dead Tauran tank. The rows of silver and red were by her side, Rumia turned to the same soldier. "Are the trackers placed?" she inquired and was given an affirmative.

Standing to her full height of six feet, the Fleet Commander planted her feet on the Tauran flagship's frame. Her right arm swung, and the electro-sword in her armored grip pointed to the target, its green blade lighting the way like a beacon sharp. Her voice rose against her helmet's comm systems, shouting her command:

"All ships! FIRE!"

The entire Gemini Armada obeyed without hesitation. Rumia hadn't heard the shots, but she saw them leave the swooping Vulcars. The tower's force field flickered from the blizzard but vanished after a few shots of crackling ion hit the power generator. The expansive and mighty wings of command ships extended above, and their beams rained down on the last stronghold of the Gemini Alliance's great threat and rival.

Victory rose while the tower was engulfed in a million different lights. Some of the men around Rumia embraced one another ("We've won! We've finally won!"). Others fell to their knees in disbelief ("I can't believe it..."). All their words were clear for Rumia to hear in her helmet.

She hadn't joined in the celebration, despite her swelling pride. There was still one last thing she had to do. Thus, she turned around, away from the ruined tower and into the crowd of her soldiers.

The cheers, the stars, the site of her victory-all faded. Rumia, the great hero of the Gemini Alliance, walked past not soldiers, but warrior elites, dressed in the same fleet uniform as herself. The smiles of many rivals, friends, and teachers greeted her every corner, and each gave her strength to carry up the marble-esque staircase.

And there they were, the two Grand Consuls of the Gemini Alliance at the top. White light shone from behind the pair, illuminating their golden and red robes. The lines of nanomachines brightened their smiles of pride and joy. Rumia smiled back at the sight before her-

-A pair of bodies laid on the group, burnt to a crisp-

The tinier Consul first stepped forward, lithe arms wrapping around the Fleet Commander. "You've finally done it. We are so happy for you, Rumia," her mother's gentle voice hummed.

"Thank you," Rumia returned, looking into those beautiful blue eyes-

-empty eye sockets, black as the soot covering the skeleton-

"You've made us proud," the larger Consul said heartily, like a doting father. "Now, we'll have peace after so many years of fighting. Hopefully, you won't be leaving any time soon."

Finding a strong hand on her shoulder, Rumia spoke up with embarrassment-

-his gnarled limb, once held by strong muscles, laid bare and limply towards her-

-but stopped herself at the sight of the chuckling crowd in front. "We shall see," Rumia said after a moment.

Before she realized it, the leaders of the Gemini Alliance, her parents, held her in their arms. "Welcome home," her mother whispered-

-Everything was burning. Fire drowned her screams-

"Welcome home, Rumia," her father said too.

-while the words were sprayed in front of the two corpses: 'TRAITOR! FILTH! DISGRACE!'-

Slowly, Rumia hugged her parents back. She didn't care if the entire Gemini Alliance had been watching. She had no need to worry about any of them. She had reached her goal. She was with her family. She was home. She was-

"Wake up, Rumia."

Rumia obeyed, jerking her head up from her dream. She blinked away the haze from her eyes to the point she saw a face to her right. "... Aster sir?" she squeaked in her grogginess, raising her head from her pillow.

Of Aster's face, Rumia saw the squared jaw and tempered glare through her draped bangs. "It's time to get up," her mentor said, standing tall in his civilian clothes.

The unquestioning Rumia rose herself up on her arms, feeling soft fabric of her oversized nightgown. Still blinking, she surveyed her surroundings. It wasn't a battlefield or a great council chamber. It was a dinky hotel room, with enough room for one bathroom, one bed (which Rumia was one) and one cushion by the window (that her mentor had been using). Through that window, the still dimmed rays of first light.

Frowning, Rumia whirled back to her mentor. "Is it not a bit early, sir?" she asked.

"Maybe a bit," Aster smiled mischievously, "but it doesn't hurt, does it?"

Rumia inwardly sighed. "No, sir... Are we going somewhere?"

"Yes, we are. And we need to look nice. Now, go take a shower and get dressed." Aster paused before turning to leave, eying Rumia for a moment. "By the way, your hair's a bit messy. You really should fix that."

After the door closed behind him, Rumia collapsed back on her bed. Like her messy hair, her five-feet-body sprayed across the wooden mattress. While stretching her short arms and legs to get out the crinks, her eyes stared aimlessly at the ceiling. Her mind went to the dream. It was one she had seen again, a perfect crystallization of what she wanted for so long.

Realization sunk into Rumia's stomach. Of course, it was all a dream. That reality was too perfect to be true.

"Nothing like that will ever happen," she lamented.

With that, Rumia got up and prepared for the reality awaiting her.