Reports of my death...
Sunday, June 28, 2009

A few short scenes detailing the past of Captain Dicey Morgan. From Alliance Soldier, to Browncoat - a spy? a turncoat? - to her First Death... (Backstory Snippets from Dicey Morgan, Captain of the Oberon -


Morgan slung the rifle over her shoulder, and snuck a peek behind her. Caught you! she thought, as his eyes slid away, and she spotted the flush on his cheeks. She looked away, smiling that wide grin Christian hated, and blushing a bit herself. She exchanged grins with Park, and the stocky Asian woman laughed out loud. He was so real, and so handsome. Her father would have disapproved, if he weren't an Alliance Soldier. Father would forgive him, for that. Whatever he needed forgiving for. Flirting with Sebastian Morgan’s First Born might be enough. Jianta de guai! With his eyes and smile, there was a lot anyone would forgive him.

If it weren't for all the war and killing, you'd think it was school. It was just another drill. Another run through dry and miserable scrub, looking for the enemy. Another day of shooting and waiting, and wreaking havoc on little worlds with seemingly no visible worth. Still, they were young, and war or no war, they were alive.

James was supposed to be heading for maneuvers with his squad, perfecting tracking and elimination drills. In reality, he was taking every chance he could to catch glimpses of a dark red-haired beauty in the APC to his left. James had only been with the unit for a few weeks, having signed-up as soon as the Alliance would take him. He glanced again at her, then returned to the task at hand.

Park nudged her, hissing, "He's looking again." She adjusted her chinstrap, moving her helmet backward slightly. They never seemed to fit just right. Her dark eyes twinkled, "He's in Maxwell's unit. They're being stationed on Orpheus with us." Morgan looked again, and this time, he smiled at her.

Finally. Took her long enough to see me. Now if only I can get her name. "Locklear!" his squad leader whispered as strongly as he could and still be whispering. "Yeah? I mean yes sir?" James responded, snapping out of his trance. "Quit flirting and look for the gorramn Independents. They could have massacred the entire unit by the time your brain decided to rejoin us. Now focus!"

The name of the planet sunk in, and Dicey jerked her attention back to Park, "Tama de! Orpheus?" She rolled her eyes, "There I times I hate my name."

Park looked at her blankly, puzzled. Morgan shook her head, "Long story. Ends badly."

Park shook her head, "Are all rich kids as weird as you?" She shouldered her rifle, gripping the nearby handle as the APC trembled.

Morgan laughed, "You should meet my brother, Christian. And he's supposably the 'normal' one." Her voice held a note of tension. She caught him looking again, and this time, she smiled, and didn't look away. His tag said Locklear. She shifted, so her own ‘Morgan’ was visible. She grabbed the handle to keep her feet, and looked away. She made a vow to talk to him...

Morgan. What a great last name. Bet she has a better first name. James finally decided to stop flirting, but it was only because if he got caught once more, he'd be in the CO's office explaining why Morgan was more important than the mission at hand. I have to talk to her later. Probably in the chow hall.

Several Weeks Later

...the tent was dark. Her voiced hissed quietly, "James?" She had been surprised to find his note. Park had told her that he had delivered it himself. It was gripped in her hand. She would have been there, spoken to him in person, but the CO had called her away. Good News/Bad News. She was torn. Her duty was clear, and it was about to take her out nearly alone into enemy territory.

No one knew the details but the CO and herself, and it had to stay that way.

His laughter answered her, low and quiet, a chuckle of someone pleased with himself. She felt him step close, his body radiating heat in the cool night air. They'd barely had the chance to exchange more than a few words - and one or two insults - and now... She could barely see him in the dark, but there was no doubt it was him.

"Eurydice," he said, and his warm hands settled on her shoulders.

Her voice, sad and halting, wove it's way back to him. "I have to go. I'm... I'm sorry. Orders," She gasped when he kissed her, and it was over with before she finished the breath. She hadn't actually expected that.

His hand slid up her throat, brushed her cheek. He leaned closer, his cheek brushing hers. His voice tickled her ear, "Go. The war will still be here when you get back. I'll see you then."

She rather liked his voice, especially stroking her ear like that. She bit her lower lip, and stepped back. It was cold again. She nodded in the dark, barely outlined by the ambient light outside. She couldn't quite breathe, and she slipped outside again. She strode across the encampment and back to the tent she shared with Park. She walked the distance blind, asking again, Why now? She had gone so long, and there had never been anything like this. She chided herself for dwelling on it. She was an Alliance Soldier, not some mooncalf of a girl, in a silly romantic story. She didn't have time for it now, had never had time for that, before.

She was at her tent, and found Park waiting. Park helped her don her gear, finally asking, "Did you see him? Did you say goodbye? Did you kiss him?" She grinned, curious. Morgan was ready to go, and she paused, "He kissed me, Park. He said... he'd see me when I got back."

Park's mouth tightened, "You will be back. Early, I bet."

Morgan nodded, hugged her friend, and slipped out of the tent, into the darkness.

There was never time, no matter what life she chose.

Three Months later

...there they were. Dicey could see them - so easy to just walk back. No danger; but she wasn't going. She knew she wasn't going to go. She couldn’t go back to that life, as much as part of her wanted to, she now understood so many things that never had before. Phrases like “You just know.” It really did work like that...

"Dicey! We're going!" Mal’s voice slipped up the hill to her, bringing that same feeling it always did.


She turned, and followed the brown coat he wore. The sun glinted off his brown hair, clean for once. They'd lucked out recently, with an honest-to-goodness freshwater creek, and in a safe and secure location. Her own hair shone a deep black cherry, ruby toned and wild from too long without a cut. It had been black and ugly yesterday. He glanced back, giving her a grin. She caught his hand, gripping the battered rifle in her other hand.

Sometimes, he reminded her of James. A word, a laugh, just enough to remind her of what she had left behind. Too many memories... Locklear... do you think Morgan is dead? Are you...?

Miles away, James was sitting in his fox hole with another private. They were sent ahead to recon the area. There had been word of an Independent squad moving behind the lines to hit a supply depot not far from James. He still hadn't heard word from Dicey. It had been three months and nothing. He was beginning to think she was KIA on her secret mission. A mission couldn't last this long. She would have been back by now.

In the little clearing, four brown-coated Independents scrambled to get ready to move again. They greeted her with smiles that made her stomach flutter. She was gaining a reputation as a lucky charm. Richardson had told her about three days ago. She hadn't seen it in their eyes till she'd known what to look for, and now, she was shocked to see it again and again.

Baxt dilo. That's what I am - a Lucky Fool She couldn’t take credit for more than that. She couldn’t help it if sometimes she saw things differently from everyone else, allowing her to spot a way to keep her unit alive and whole and safe. Lucky...

Several Months Later

James saw movement in the trees. Barely recognizable, but it was there. Spend enough time staring at the trees, and you know when something ain't right. James took aim in the direction of the movement.

"Peterson! Radio in for the rest of the squad! We got them on the run!" James hissed over his shoulder. As soon as the call went in, the two privates jumped out of the foxhole and took opposite flanking movements.

The dark cloaked everything with shadows long and heavy, clingy and thick. Dicey gripped her rifle, ears straining for some noise. The hand on her arm made her jump a little, and she turned, smiling into the bright blue-green eyes she could barely see. Mal's hand gestured, and she nodded, heading out. She hated being separated from the others - being alone made her feel too vulnerable. She didn't like feeling vulnerable, and she used the energy from that feeling to control herself. She trusted him. He was the real good luck charm. She was sure of it.

She gently pressed aside a branch, moving through the thicket.

James saw one of the soldiers take off in the opposite direction of the rest, so he followed. He followed the soldier to a large clearing, and he dropped to a prone position when he reached the treeline before the clearing. He took aim at the retreating soldier. He breathed out, waiting for the soldier to face him. Got to make it clean. Got to make sure it hits the mark. That black hair will make me miss. Got to hit the face.

Time slowed.

The branch was rough against her palm, the leaves obscuring the faint clearing ahead of her. Her name, screamed in terror - "DICEY!!!!" Mal’s voice broke her heart, and she didn't even know why.

Startled, momentum carried her a step further, and she was through the thicket. The sharp turn of her head, and she saw Mal's face through the leaves, blue green eyes blazing and face contorted with something so terrible. Then Zoe was dragging him away, Zoe and the other browncoats, away from the bullets erupting in the undergrowth around them, and then... they were gone.


The soldier turned its head back. It was a young woman. James did not hesitate and pulled the trigger as soon as the soldier faced him. But it was too late when the face registered in his mind. It was Dicey.

Her head swiveled back, and she could see, not far across the valley floor. He isn't dead!!! But... No! You can't be here! Not you, oh not.. the sharp sound of a gunshot rent the air. He looked so surprised. Her head hurt.

Time Stopped. The stars are cold and hard, and my head is cold. My hair is loose, blowing in my eyes. It's so long... He looks so upset, the poor man. His blue eyes are twisted with pain and grief. I can't feel anything, but it doesn't seem very important that I can't. He yells into my face, but I can't hear him. He moves too fast, and my head is cold...

Time Stops.



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