Redemption

_recording 1293_

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She slumps on the chair, hair long and dishevelled, dark lines seemingly etched under her weary blue eyes. There are many splatters of blood across the walls.

“How many times have I done this? I’ve lost count a long time ago… Never mind…” She trails off, not sure what to say. After a moment, though, she smiles sadly.

“Y’know, there was this guy – a real insane motherfucker, but there was some logic to him nonetheless. His motto was ‘Have I ever told you the definition of insanity?’ He said that insanity was doing the exact same fucking thing over and over and over, expecting shit to change. And… I guess that is what I am doing, too. How many times have I killed myself, only to come back? Ten? A hundred? A thousand times?” Her expression suddenly changes and she’s leering at the camera with unbound malice, her eyes speaking of eternal, mind-breaking pain.

“I will suffer no trespass, you mortal scum! You cannot keep me locked away forever!”

“Uh… never mind that.” She sighs, sticking a sidearm under her chin. “Here goes nothing.” She squeezes the trigger. Her head snaps backwards as blood splatters across the camera. She falls on the floor, lying in a puddle of her own blood.

_recording end_

She drops the corpse, adding it to the huge pile of cadavers already there – all of them in various states of decay, yet share the same details – blonde-haired and wearing the same clothes. She would shudder at the sight, but she’s had roughly four years to get used to it. That and she's personally killed and murdered nearly fifty thousand enemy soldiers during her career in the Marine Corps. Ruthlessness was the key to surviving in those first months of the war. She turns to the large button floating mid-air and cringes. She knows what’s to come. She presses it nonetheless.

[RESET]

She gasps, coughing as she clears stale air out of her lungs. She grasps at the back of her head. Her hair’s matted with blood, but her skull is in one piece. Again. Then, she can feel strange bonds tugging at her mind – The Lost Children, cruelly separated from their guardian, Shadow Mother. Locked up in different locations aboard the unnamed research station, they cry out for her to save them from the scientists’ tools. Yet, she lacks the strength to break out of her cage. The power she requires is just there, right inside her mind for her to reach, but she violently rejects the dead god’s tireless temptations – Kraath’Malyk is ever beguiling in its persistence.

It had finally broken her sanity four years ago and she had gone on a rampage, slaughtering thousands of Coalition citizens, drinking their souls, twisting their bodies into puppets for her to use. Her rampage lasted two weeks before she was brought down. It was her fault, all of it. She had thought to shackle a dead god. It had seemed doable at the time – she had defeated Insanity Engine, hadn’t she? The binding of the dead Asahi’s essence to her soul had nearly claimed her sanity as well, but she had persevered in the end. She still remembered Stiarra’s words, too…

Dead godlings they may be, but they are still children. You must take care of them, for my time in this realm is at an end…

So she did just that. Until Kraath'Malyk finally broke her.

She had been the best Coalition had to offer – a tactician without compare, a leader so charismatic entire star systems had defected to her cause during the Rebellion. She was a hero. She was a legend.

She was Coalition's biggest shame.

It had been merely because of what she had achieved during her life – forging an alliance with both Vasari and Advent during the war, saving Tala'Hiri, Nell-Tiray's daughter, stopping the Skrugg Invasion after the war, and finding Earth, the humanity's long-lost homeworld – that she was not executed on the spot. But there was no escaping the bottom of the well for her, too. She was transported to an unnamed research station somewhere in deep space and endlessly examined and experimented upon. She did not know what they were trying to do. But she gladly accepted the pain that came with the scientists' work. She deserved all of it and much more. She just hoped she would die one day. Knowing what she was, however, she did not expect for death to claim her anytime soon.

Such was the curse of being a mad god.

They were not alone in this universe.

That much Princess Celestia had found out several years ago. She had been daydreaming at one point and her mind had soared through space. She had marvelled at the magnificent sights the whole time – awe-inspiring nebulae, stars in their prime, alien worlds, both lush and barren, yet beautiful nonetheless in their own way. And then, she had sensed much pain and death – and very close to Equis, too. Both curious and concerned, she returned to her world, drawn to a battle that took place in orbit of Luna's moon.

There, she found scores of space-faring alien vessels, locked in a tooth and nail fight. As she approached, she could distinguish three distinctive groups. The first of those commanded wicked-looking vessels and she felt fearful just by looking at them – the shapes of their hulls were pronounced and aggressive, with sharp edges and bristling with menacing weapons. The second fleet consisted of graceful ships and her worry was soothed by merely looking at them – all attractive curves and spheres. She would commend the vessels' designers if she could – the aesthetic analyst in her could appreciate the beauty of these ships. The last of the belligerents were starkly different, however – she could not help but feel like their ships had been built with anything but warfare in mind – the closest she could think of was merchant ships. They surely looked the part – big and bulky, moving ponderously through the void. Even so, she saw vessels that had been designed with combat in mind – chunky yet sleek of shape. These vessels looked commanding and defiant, every last one of them. As one of them rumbled past her ethereal form, her jaw dropped in surprise as she read the illuminated letters on its prow.

TDN REMEMBRANCE

And, in smaller letters that seemed to be haphazardly painted on its battle-scarred hull in garish red...

For The Rebellion!

She could feel the emotions of the combatants. Those of the first fleet were desperate – they were running for their lives from something that had been pursuing them for more than ten millennia. She would feel pity for them, if she had not seen what dwelled inside – chambers filled with slaves. The swirling maelstrom of emotions from the captives brought fury to her heart, for she abhorred slavery of every kind. Yet, she saw numbers of these vessels among the third fleet, too – defectors, she guessed.

The second fleet were apparently allies of the third fleet, for they shielded the battle-worn ships of third fleet, seeming to use powerful barriers to deflect the majority of shots fired by the first. Though the allies' thoughts were focused on revenge directed at the first fleet, she could feel some animosity between the two, yet she felt glad they could put their differences aside for a common foe. That being said, she noticed many more kinds of ships among the second and third fleets, which made her wonder – how widespread was this schism, this Rebellion? How and why did it start? Was Equis in any danger?

To this day still, she questioned herself of what she had seen take place above Luna's moon. Who were these aliens that also used Equish as their language? Why did they fight? Which of the belligerents held the moral high ground, so to speak? Was the war over already? Would they come across Equis once more? What would happen if they did? She had many questions that needed answering, but one of them had been already answered.

They were not alone in this universe.

She trudged wearily through the corridor, ignoring everything apart from the gently pulsing line on the floor that guided her to the labs. She could walk to her destination with her eyes closed. It did not make any difference. Her body burning from the chemicals pumping through her veins, she slowly headed towards her cell. Or 'personal quarters', as the scientists put it. It was a prison, no matter what way you put it. When she called the station commander out on it, he gave her a sickeningly oily smile and said her not to worry her 'pretty little head over it.' Oh, how she wished to gut that bastard where he stood... Alas, doing that would require the collar to come off. And that was all but impossible – the deactivation codes were in the commander's quarters. And, to get there, she needed to have the collar removed. So, there she was. Imprisoned for ever and with no way to escape. Truth be told, she did not wish to escape – her freedom would only last mere moments before Kraath'Malyk possessed her once more. And, despite her treatment here, she would do anything to make sure that damn thing stayed here, even if it meant an eternity of torment for her.

…it does not have to be so, Shadow Mother…

Huh? Who’s tha-Oh. Right. Hello, there.

…we bid you a good day, Shadow Mother…

You don’t have to call me all those fancy names, y’know. Just call me Lieia. Or Lee, if you want to.

…we can provide you a way to escape from this space station…

No. I can’t do a damn thing. Even if I could, I wouldn’t. I’m a threat to both the Asahi Empire and the Coalition! So abandon that thought right now! I cannot be let loose. Not now, not ever.

…your sacrifice is noble, but you need not remain hidden in dark space…

Why? You and the rest of the Children were there when it happened. I murdered thousands of innocents! How, pray tell, can I make amends for that?

…there is a distant, faraway world that remains hidden from your exploratory fleets. It holds ancient, powerful artefacts named the Elements of Harmony…

You’ve gotta be fucking shitting me. Elements of Harmony? That’s the stupidest name ever.

...nevertheless, they can help you finally defeat Kraath’Malyk…

Forgive me if I withhold my enthusiasm. The Strezov Sampler failed to kill the damn thing, so I don’t see how those… ugh… Elements would!

…perhaps we should have elaborated. Kraath’Malyk will not be dead. It will be finally fused with your soul and you will be able to wield the Harvesters’ might without fear of possession…

What makes you think I want to? The minute I break loose, that fucker’s going to go on a rampage! And I am not going to put anyone at risk with this plan of yours!

…Kraath’Malyk is weak. It has kept you shackled through threats made of smoke and mirrors. You have enough time to find the world that houses the Elements and cure yourself, as it is. Trust us. We will help. Starting with this…

What? Hey! What’re you on about?

With a quiet beep, the collar fell away from her neck and clattered to the floor. She felt a surge of energy to her left arm as the software shackling the cybernetic limb was erased in a flash. The fusion reactor in her chest thrummed as it came back to full power. The rest of her extensive cybernetics came alive, too, just as alarms started to blare throughout the station. A couple of guards rounded the corner and she snarled. She recognised those two bastards. Oh, she would not hesitate with them one bit…

The hallway grew cold and gloomy as she once more grasped the shadows – sharp, jagged spears and spikes burst from the walls, impaling and dismembering the guards. The wave of pain, shock and fear hit her and she let out a satisfied moan – she hadn’t felt those emotions in four years and to do so now was borderline orgasmic. Oh, she wanted more of it. Pain, anger, and grief were good. She wanted much more of it. Revenge was waiting for her, beckoning for her...

…you need to hurry. We are free and will find you soon. Considering your penchant for destruction, this station will not remain intact for much longer…

Yes, yes. I’ll be right there. Don’t worry.

She strode through the smoke-filled, blood-splattered hallways, not increasing her pace, even as the space station fell apart around her. She had killed them all. She had feasted on their emotions and drunk their souls. Thus nourished, she ripped the hangar doors open, giving a weak smile as the air rushed out. She did not die. She was immortal, after all. Her invincibility was questionable, however.  Humming softly to herself, she wreathed herself in shadows, examining herself as strands of solid shadows slithered across her body, fully encasing her from head to toe in a suit of armour, stronger than anything Coalition scientists could ever come up with. A dented phase-capable shuttle scraped towards her as the artificial gravity failed and she batted the craft aside with a flick of her wrist. She did not need it. She had her own means of travelling faster than light. Well, Kraath'Malyk did – how else had it been to fell the Asahi Empire many millennia ago? Shaking her head to get rid of such trivial thoughts, she turned around and saw her proverbial flock – The Lost Children, crowding there, waiting for her to say something, eyeing her with their glowing, amber eyes, occasionally poking at their helmets. So she did.

“We are free.”

That brought shadowy cheers from them, their skinny, tatter-clad bodies jostling around in exuberance as they said their thanks to her. A moment later, they faded with the shadows, retreating to wherever they came from. Sighing softly, she turned around to look out from the decompressed hangar. Oh, she was in dark space, alright. Not that it mattered. She ran forward, leaping out from the hangar bay as the station fell apart, explosions erupting across its hull as the reactor went critical. As she turned around, floating away, she latched onto a nearby piece of plating and watched the spatial fireworks before casting off once more, looking for a suitable location to create a rift.

It took her several minutes to find a suitable leyline, one that would carry her across the void of space. She tore it open and dove inside. It would take her several hours to arrive.

…trust us. It will work…

Oh, it better. I don’t like my choices being made for me.

…we understand. But we have faith in you that you can find the Elements and use them against Kraath’Malyk…

Time will tell, kiddos. Time will tell.

…

Are we there yet?

…that is not funny…

Feh.

“Okay, okay, okay, steady, now!” The redhead cried out as I set the crate down.

“Oh, get over yourself, Sal! I’m not your fucking granny.”

“Eh, screw you, Lee.”

“Hey! Don’t talk to her like that!” Marrin called out at that, rummaging through the crate, pulling out a collection of frosted-over bottles, passing them around the table of the small room. The various members of my squad muttered their thanks and popped their bottles open.

“Yo, dudes! Dudes! So, what’re we toastin’ to?” Nicole raised her voice above the chatter. Others paused and scratched their heads.

“…dunno…”

“…fucked if I know…”

That’s when Faye spoke up.

“To victory! Let’s show those alien fuckers what we are made of!”

“…amen to that!”

“Right on!” Jacobi stood up as much as he could, drawing the attention.

“And to Lee here on making Sergeant!” A chorus of voices rose at that – in approval, and I could only nod sheepishly.

“Fine, fine, I’ve got a toast as well, so shut your yapping holes.” True enough, they fell silent and listened intently.

“I’m not one for speeches, so I’ll be quick. Stick close to each other, watch each other’s backs and we’ll pull through, no problem. We’ll show those murdering sons of bitches what happens when you mess with humanity!”

That got a roar of approval from them – quite deafening in the small bunk room, to be fair – and we drank to seal the evening.