Fiction; TFS Tibbs

Tibbs contemplated his next move, his could take a while.

'Chess..' Nashh sighed. 'You fucking loser'. A grin hid his poor attempt at sarcasm.

Sarcasm, Nashh never quite got it. He had enjoyed playing the game himself, as a youth, many moons ago. These days he lacked the patience, fast paced, high octane action was now more his style.

Nashh leant against the inside post of the office door.

"The office" was pathetic really, in size, compared to the giant hangar it serviced; it had once been a freight container.

It had a coffee machine, 20 cheap fold-up-chairs around a long square table. Various blackboards had combat schematics and tactics drawn on them. Some rubbed out, some partly amended. Arrhideaus had left his mark by drawing random blobs, vaguely resembling frigates.

For the quality of the furniture, fixtures and fittings, it is rather surprising that so much time was spent here by the Bastards. It served as a staffroom, canteen or meeting place. A placard above the door read 'Dbastards' referring to days long gone, the days when the Bastards were known as the Dastardly Bastards.

It was rather quiet though today; just Tibbs and his chessboard.

'Where have you been mate?' Tibbs asked, not looking away from the chessboard.

'Busy' Nashh replied cold and direct, 'Queen to b4'.

'Ha! Yeah right' Tibbs muttered. Looking up he managed to get a glimps of Nashh leaving the shed-like office.

Tibbs pushed the intercom button. He glanced from the intercom panel to the chessboard and confidently proclaimed his move; knight c8 to a9, check.

A moment of silence passed…

'I had hoped you would do that' Flashfresh's voice crackled over the intercom. 'Queen to a3, check-mate' Flash reported with a hint of joy in his voice, 'good game my friend, good game'.

Tibbs snorted an embarrassed smile, annoyed he had spent as much time as he had on that move and then getting it so wrong.

'Well played sir, well played'.
Tibbs hesitantly pushed the intercom button again, 'what if I had moved queen to b4?'

The intercom went silent. Long enough to make Tibbs wonder if the message hadn't come through on the other side.

The intercom crackled; I don’t know, Flash paused; you may have lasted another hour...