skin, bone, and arrogance
The choice was mine and mine completely
I could have any prize that I desired
I could burn with the splendor of the brightest fire
Or else, or else I could choose time
It took place in a matter of seconds, but it felt like forever. I could have any prize that I desired
I could burn with the splendor of the brightest fire
Or else, or else I could choose time
Adrenaline roaring through her veins. Heartbeat thundering in her ear. Swimming vision with unshed tears, stinging her eyes.
"Ma'am, it looks like they've noticed you. We're scrambling fighters to intercept... They're dropping interdiction!"
"I see it, Admiral Hirsch." Joints aching with stress levered her body into a straightened position. Shaking hands seized the control levers. Every instinct in her body and brain screamed at her to stop the madness. This is suicide -- literally suicide, she shouted internally at herself. Another voice in her mind pleaded with her to think of her children; how could she sacrifice their well-being for a chance -- a mere chance -- to save the lives of strangers?
Internal chaos as her instincts wrestled with her sense of self-preservation.
Quiet resignation as her choice was made.
A silent plea to the universe that her children would be looked after.
A whir as she pushed the levers forward. A rising hum as the hyperspace engines engaged.
"Oh... George!"
Remember, I was very young then
And a year was forever and a day
So what use could fifty, sixty, seventy be?
I saw the lights and I was on my way
Natasi Josephine Fortan was space dust, vaporized at a molecular level as her weaponized flagship FIV Concordia tore through the mothership of the Imperium forces, sowing destruction and chaos in the saurian fleet that had arrayed around it. Her eulogy, a brilliant flash of white light and a stunned silence from the decks of the First Order and Imperium vessels in orbit, to the situation room where the battle was being tracked, to the streets of Avalonia. Her legacy, the lives saved with the time bought by her sacrifice. The end of a life well-lived, a life of consequence, a life of purpose.
It should have been over.
An Equilibriate, Natasi Fortan had never believed in an afterlife, as such. There was no great reward, and no great damnation for that matter, for even the Cosmic Balance could not transcend life and death. One's actions, and the impact they had on the balance, were settled at the time of her death -- or so Natasi had always been taught.
So, it should have been over. But...
The choice was mine and no one else's
I could have the millions at my feet
Give my life to people I might never meet
Or else, to children of my own
It was difficult to say when she became conscious of being conscious. But not conscious. There, but nowhere. It was damned difficult to describe. I could have the millions at my feet
Give my life to people I might never meet
Or else, to children of my own
At first, she was a tiny candle flickering in the endless black of the void. Just a flicker of energy, the kernel of a being, like an embryo. It was years before the embryo remembered its purpose as a soul: to carry the essence of a person even when the fleshy cage of it was destroyed. It was years, but time passed differently in the void. The embryo knew nothing but the void, and so it knew nothing of how much time was passing outside. The embryo struggled with itself; she did not believe in souls, did not believe in consciousness after death. This was clearly not happening. And yet, it must, or how could she be experiencing it? Or perhaps --
No. She was definitely dead. The blinding white light, the searing pain of her soul being wrenched from her body as it was atomized, she recalled with ease. This was how the embryo remembered it had memories. Not everything. Not much. Just a few moments. The smell of stale sweat and burned coffee, a vaguely chemical smell she associated with starships and something pleasant and floral. Taken together: pain and fear and misery and hope. It was not unlike the void she found herself in. But it was something like life. The embryo understood nothing of it, but it was familiar. She relived it often. It was not without rewards, after all. At the very last moment, just before the lances of white-hot pain tore through the embryo again, she saw the image of two small children: a sandy-haired boy holding a tiny dark-haired infant girl.
They looked happy. The embryo hoped that they were somewhere far away from the void, safe and warm and whole.
This was how the embryo remembered how to hope.
Remember, I was very young then
Thought I needed the numbers on my side
Thought the more that loved me, the more loved I'd be
But such things cannot be multiplied
She opened her eyes. Darkness, but not absolute darkness. A dim light outlined a small, rough chamber.
She wondered if it was hot or cold in this rough little chamber. She felt a slight chill but was otherwise quite comfortable.
She wondered what it sounded like, and immediately could hear distant murmurings. She was not alone.
She did not think of whether she could find the others. The embryo -- well, embryo no more, but the shade of a woman -- was in uncharted territory: an afterlife she had never believed in, and unsure of whether she was in the good one or the bad one. The surroundings were grim, but not uncomfortable. She had been locked inside herself for years, reliving the painful last moments of her life, recalling the parts of her life touched by death -- her parents, her brother, her husband -- and painful was it was, it did not strike her as spiritual torture. But perhaps it was. Maybe she was in the bad place. Maybe there wasn't a bad place or a good place. Maybe it was just where one's spirit ended up when one died. But until she knew, the possibilities were endless. She wanted to live -- or exist, she corrected herself, or whatever this is -- in this moment of possibility and promise. As long as she didn't know, she didn't know.
Afterlife logic. It was like a loose tooth. Once she felt it, she couldn't stop wiggling it.
Was I bad? the shade asked herself as she sat in the center of the dimly lit chamber. I tried to be good. I tried so hard to be good. I can't remember everything, but -- I tried to be good, didn't I? A cold chill settled over the room. Dread? the shade wondered. Realization? Guilt? Surely, I was not perfect. Everyone is some good and some bad. But was I so bad to be sent to... Hell? Chaos? What do they call it? Or is not believing in it enough? By the Balance, have I damned myself to Hell? I chose this... I chose to die, as the only way there was any hope, any hope at all, for -- I can't remember, damn and blast, I can't remember them! But there was hope, there was a chance to save my children. Not the little boy with golden hair or the little girl with the unfathomable dark eyes. The others. They were trapped. They were lost.
I died so they could live, the shade said to herself. Though she could not recall the details, this she could feel in her very core. The shade turned her face defiantly up toward the sky -- or rather, the top of the small rough chamber. If this is Hell, if this is Chaos, that is unfortunate for me. I was perhaps not as good as I believe myself to be. But I won't regret sending myself here if it meant the others could live. Even though it meant being separated from the little blond boy and the little dark-eyed girl. Some things were worth the sacrifice, the shade declared, if only to herself.
But she had such doubts.
Oh, my daughter! Oh, my son!
Understand what I have done!