Room 307 -- Part II

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The cosmonaut nodded briefly in acknowledgement of the Sorrow’s final words. Inwardly, he questioned the request as he questioned all things. The specter probably had his reasons, and good reasons, though he chose not to elaborate.

Sighing then, he turned back to the hovercraft, but did not set to work. Isaev was much more fascinating. Something to be studied carefully.

The Fury smirked at the comment about destroying gilded flowers; how ironic the lieutenant would choose that metaphor. “I have nothing against the garden, only the gardener.”

It was an honest and revealing statement, both in the simple sense of revenge against Krauss and his mission to purify the world in an all-consuming blaze. It was not the world he hated, small and blue and fragile, spinning all alone through the vast inky-darkness of space.

No, rather the world’s inhabitants, the most brutal of all beasts, with war and torture and cruelty -- mankind.

“Our technology has by far surpassed our humanity.”  The cosmonaut offered finally. “But you… you make a good argument that this world is not completely lost to corruption and brutality. Something about you; you’re refreshingly sincere and introspective.”

Isaev was also one of the first soldiers outside of the Cobra Unit or the Krasnogorje patrol to take him seriously, without petty mockery or quivering in fear. That was something special, there.

“You are welcome to visit my laboratory whenever you want to.” The Fury turned, tilting his head at the young lieutenant to study him closely. “But I am not certain there will be anything of interest for an Ocelot soldier here. I have no mirrors with which you could gaze at your reflection for hours, and no showy handguns for you to play with.”

The comments, while mildly insulting, were all in good nature, and he laughed at the mental images of the entire squad admiring their pretty blond hair for hours.

“The closest thing I have to a pistol is a rocket propelled grenade launcher, and I seriously doubt your Major ever instructed you in their use and maintenance. Too risky -- he could singe his delicate fingertips.”