Big, Pendulous Balls

Posted on Tue Jun 2nd, 2026 @ 8:38pm by Captain Shepherd & Joss

1,159 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Crossing Styx
Location: Administrative Levels, Zion
Timeline: Date 2226-02-04 at 0800

“I’m sorry, Captain Shepherd, but the Speaker is in a meeting right now,” the blonde aide said from behind her desk in the foyer of the Speaker’s office. Her slender fingers adjusted a glass box that held a small potted plant illuminated by a square light attached to the top of the box. “I can leave a message for him and let him know that you came by when he’s done.”

“A meeting with Holm?” Shepherd asked, appearing perfectly calm, despite the fact that this situation was a frustration of immense inconvenience to him.

“The Commander,” she said, and before another syllable could pass between her lips, Shepherd was marching directly over toward the Speaker's door and barging his way in. Her protests died at the closing of the metal doors.

Inside, the room was a rounded square of considerable size decorated with signs of an old man’s long and fruitful career. A bookshelf lined the back wall full of books of various sizes, and a large desk dominated the center of the room. Behind it sat Joss, the Speaker of the Supreme Council of Zion, in a gray roughspun shirt with his wreath of office around his neck. His thick black eyebrows shot straight up over an otherwise perfectly calm face as Shepherd barged in.

On the other side of the desk sat Commander Flint, the Commander of the Zion Defense Force, all cheekbones, blue eyes, and graying dark hair. A look of disdain was in his eyes, strong and unmistakable. He moved to speak first.

“What the hell are you do-“

“Speaker Joss, excuse the interruption,” Shepherd began as if Flint wasn't even there. “I needed to see you right away. I was told by the Supreme Council that I’ve been given the right to select my own crew for the Styx, but I just reviewed a transfer order that was obviously hand-picked by Flint.”

Flint was quite obviously very ready to respond, but the Speaker made a noise of elder surprise that stopped him before he made another sound.

“You just barged right into my office, Captain Shepherd,” he commented, ignoring the request entirely. Joss had done his time in the fleet, serving as captain of the Icarus and then Commander of the Defense Force himself before being elected to the Council. He feared no man, and was as manipulative as he was sly.

Shepherd was silent for a beat after the accusation, his own brand of stoicism stopping him from reacting overtly. Eventually he parted his lips to speak again, but Flint cut him off.

“You have no respect for anything, Shepherd. Not only do you undermine me in front of the Council and secure the captaincy for yourself, but you greedily want to hand-pick your own crew without any input from High Command. The arrogance, man,” he said, crossing his own arms and looking back at the Speaker. “Your Honor, this is yet another sign that this man isn’t worthy of the Council’s trust.”

Speaker Joss’s eyebrows were still raised, but his beady black eyes were locked on Shepherd’s with a predatory interest. It wasn’t even clear whether or not he was even listening to Flint.

“Give us the room, Commander,” he said, his mouth remaining slack.

“Your Honor?” Flint asked, his tone heightened and stressed and his jaw set until Joss’s eyes moved slowly to him, his brows relaxing into a frown that spoke volumes. Flint stood up. “Fine, I’ll be in the lobby.”

The commander turned to the door, staring daggers at Shepherd as he walked quickly out of the room, his boots stomping on the ground, as if to make his point of protest. As soon as the door was closed, silence descended on the room again. Shepherd seemed unready to break it, so it lingered until Joss spoke again.

“You’ve got big, pendulous balls barging into my office like that, Shepherd,” he said, his voice airy and calm. “Some on the Council agreed with Flint that you were an unstable and politically motivated man. I thought they were incorrect, but… maybe I was wrong.“

“Maybe you were, Your Honor. I only ask to be judged by my actions on the field of duty and the dictates of Zion’s law. That’s why I came in here today. By order of council, I was given command of the Styx and the right to select her crew. Is it Flint who’s breaking the law now or is it you?“ Shepherd said, his face like a mask of neutral focus, and his fit body standing, rigid and disciplined in a roughspun red shirt and dark green pants. He spoke like a man who was just as fearless as the Speaker.

“You think I’m disobeying the Council?” Joss asked as if the entire notion was as ridiculous and impossible as him growing a third leg. “I am the only voice who can speak for the Council, and my job is to express its will, not make its decisions.”

“Honor, I'm appreciative of the lesson on the finer points of the Zion Charter, but it doesn’t really answer my question,” Shepherd said, standing like a statue where he was.

A low, dark chuckle escaped from the mouth of the speaker of the council, and the man leaned back in his chair, finally allowing a broad smile to cross his aging face.

“You are a saint or a devil, and not a man,” he said, folding his fingers on top of his desk. “Flint has been crying like a baby since we gave you the command. He’s offered his resignation three times and is accusing the Council of undermining his leadership on a constant basis. He formally recommended to the Council that he be allowed to pick your operator to at least keep you from the worst excesses in the field. He prevailed and convinced a majority. That’s how it works around here, Shepherd.”

“And how did you argue?” Shepherd asked. “In his favor?”

Joss’s lips pressed together in a thin line, a clear sign of irritation starting to win out over the general amusement he tended to have at Shepherd’s audacity.

“I spoke my mind, like I always do.“ He said, wrapping his wrinkling knuckles on the desk. “It’s not a decision that’s going to be reversed before you leave. Don’t be a jackass. Accept the command, accept your new officer, and go out there and do what you’re good at. You’re our trial run, Shepherd. The Council will be watching. I will be watching.“

He paused, then, his face transforming into one of expectation. When Shepherd didn’t budge, he lifted his hand and gestured toward the door.

“Now get the fuck out of my office. And next time, wait in the lobby like everyone else, damn you.”

 

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