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Chapter 21

Mother Confessor:

In an odd way, I can see the light shed on the many happy ending tales. The good defeats the evil, but who defines who is good, and who is evil? This thought has been playing in the back of my mind since reading the first few stories. In my own way I feel that I am both good and evil. Drawing a blurred line in my cognitive abilities of understanding. One side I do enjoy to inflict unspeakable torment on those who truly deserve it or not. The other I just want to live free from the bondage I have been enticed into. Torn between the conflicting ideals. Though either can be poison in its own way. My thin fingers rubbing my pointed chin in thought. Perhaps in the middle ground, there are necessary evils to achieve an overall betterment in the end. Life is not as black and white as I was first lead to perceive it to be. Rather a complex unseen organism that only offers choices of which we must choose to follow. These choices seem as endless as the very vastness of space itself.

There are so many unanswered questions left unresolved. This bothers me in not knowing them. For instance I do not even know who my parents are, let alone if I ever had parents. I do not even know my name, other than the title I had earned so many centuries ago. A vulgar flattery on the face of it. Sad to think I know more about those I have made suffer, than I know of myself. Perhaps there is someone out there that can shed some light on me. I wish to have a purpose of my own, and not one that was imposed upon me. Thus far I have tried to learn to be more than what I have been. Since being plucked from the blackened surface of the only place I dared to call home. Been shown what it is like to be regarded as more than a monster, or autonomous machine. Simply following instructions at another’s request.

The memory of taking that Terran’s life with that war hammer. I wonder if he had a family, a life outside of his service to the Confederation. Unable to escape the many that have been sculpted for the worse, I stare at my hands disdainfully. Haunted by the pleading and begging of the many beings that I have hurt. If only there were some way to counteract the monster I have become. Unable to un-hear the cries for mercy, the pleading to return safely back to loved ones and friends. The many secrets revealed, both personal and militarily involved. The many faces flash throughout my dreams each night, plaguing me with the ultimate question of why.

My face buried in my hands, I howl in an unseen pain. The multiple scars on my mind burning brightly like stars. Burning rivers flow from my tightly clenched eyes. Dripping on to the thick pages. This new pain burning through my very being. I would rather take the place of those poor souls. Not one of them, nor those that asked it of me. Pleading to the emptiness to undo what has been done. Burning in a hell that I was forced to participate in. Raising my moistened face to the ceiling, unleashing a long scream as the fires burn me inside. Piercing the silence with my agonizing cries of my torture.

Graxis:

In the final steps to the drop ship with the tattered victims. They had suffered at the hands, and forced to build this vulgar place for the Confederation. They had moved the ship to the deck of the cargo bay in our absence, possibly to get us loaded up easier. Helping the weary aliens into the ship for extraction, doing our best to reassure them they are safe from the grips of their captors.

The Ober-Commander stops at the door and asks, “ Have any charges on board, Captain?”

“Yes, sir. Why do you ask”, I inquire back.

“I would like to demolish this abomination of a facility. Show the Confed and their beloved Chairmen that I am not going to allow them any solace. I would rather go to hell than leave without my piece of mind, Captain. I should like to get some more evidence to really drive the nails into those arrogant pricks, making them know they will have to deal with us. Four should suffice in tearing a massive hole in their little power play at godhood” ,he asserts his intent.

Opening the hatch over the seat by the door. Retrieving the charges in the amount indicated. Handing the bricks laced with timers and detonators to the senior officer. I watch as he heads off to the supply ship beside our own.

Markus:

Covering the few meters between the two ships in moments, ignoring the biting of my wounded thigh. Using an old pass code I gained my entrance to the supply freighter. The dimly lit insides of the massive ship showed how full the ship was loaded. The charges slung over my shoulder as I navigate through the narrow path. Making my way to the engine room of the ship. Passing the many crates filled with weapons, and ammo boxes stacked from deck to ceiling. Crates filled with rations and medical supplies. Further into the belly of the beast, crates marked with the Science Division logo filling the last third of the ship. As well as low temperature freezer cells bearing the same insignia. Keeping my pace, I swiftly make my way to the engine room. I should steal a few moments to find out what is in the freezer cells.

Entering the engine housing, the only sounds in the eerie silence is the impact of my heavy foot falls. Placing the charges a pair on either of the two massive fuel containers. Setting them in synchronized countdown to detonate in four hours. The plasma inside to devour both the supply freighter and the unfinished genetics lab in a volatile explosion of the ionized liquid. Leaving behind nothing more than a puddle amalgamated of everything inside, then cooled solid by the cold heart of space.

Satisfied with the countdown underway to neutralizing the laboratory. I head back to the storage area. Scanning the area for a checklist of the inventory, to see what the Science Division has on board. Finding it just outside the cockpit. Taking the clipboard brimming with instructions and inventory off the wall. Entering the cockpit, I override the preprogrammed directives, and manually have the ship locked down by the dock moorings. Then following up by setting a timer on opening the cargo bay doors to go off in fifteen minutes. Plenty of time to go back into the rear of the freighter and snatch up a pair of the freezer cells.

Racing through the pain in my leg, and the cramped overloaded ship. Grabbing the first pair of the many cells, after tucking the clipboard in my belt. A twenty three kilogram cell in each hand, adding stress on my already worn down body. Pushing myself to move quickly back to the awaiting drop ship. Lumbering past the crates and ammo boxes with the extra weight with barely enough space on either side of the cramped pathway.

Growling and panting as I breach the entrance of the freighter. Sweat dripping off my nearly exhausted frame. I push through the burn in my muscle tissue, lungs, and wound. The few meters felt like kilometers, as I force my way back to the drop ship. With the last of my strength I heft the cells onto the deck of the ship. The large gunner offers his hand to me. Taking me in his grip, pulling me aboard as if I were a rag doll. Wearily I stumble up to the cockpit, to tell the pilot in just under three minutes we will be out of this place.

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