Chapter 37 - Amended Scene (Patreon)

One of the greatest strengths of this story is the fact that I go back and proof one final time the chapter that I wrote 2 months ago.  With fresh eyes, I typically change/fix quite a few things and add between 800-1200 words and make some pretty significant changes/additions sometimes.  While reading the hospital scene on Kessik IV, I was inspired to add more of an emotional impact and so this scene evolved.  Read below.

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With that the young man led me through a veritable maze of beds and different segregated areas before I was directed to the recovery area. We stopped near a row of beds, all eyes already turned towards one area in particular with a woman sitting on a chair next to a bed where a human man laid, recovering from what looked like an antiproton weapon discharge. A large chunk of his flesh was just missing, but it appeared to be a glancing shot, which explained how he had survived what was normally an almost certain death. He would likely have a long recovery ahead of him, unfortunately, assuming he didn’t succumb to an infection. An antiproton beam did terrible things to flesh.

The man, who didn’t seem capable of sitting up on his own, had his hand up. The young-looking woman was clasping it gently, yet warmly, in both of her own, leaning close to him, obviously offering him what quiet comfort, strength and empathy that she could. She listened intently as the man quietly shared his ordeal with her, as he wept softly at the loss of his wife and two young children who had been killed when the apartment building they lived in had exploded after being struck from orbit. He had survived only because he had been away at work, and even there he had been grievously injured himself . I had no doubt that there were thousands of similarly heart wrenching stories just like this all over the planet today.

Being an Augment meant that I heard every word they shared with perfect clarity.

“I don’t know if I can go on without them, ma’am. I wish I had died with them,” he whispered so very softly, crying all the while. The woman just patiently listened, giving her full attention to the crying man. “I can’t help but wonder, in their…last moments, were they scared? Did they have time to realize what was happening? Did they wish that I was with them? Did my wife and girls cry out for me to protect them? I wasn’t there for them! What kind of a man isn’t there to protect his wife and kids?!” the man angrily asked the universe, bringing a hand up to hit himself in the face.

“Why couldn’t I have died with them?!” he sobbed, hitting himself again.

The woman looked slightly alarmed, but gently stopped him from hitting himself anymore, pulling his hand away.

“Your family loved you, Matthew!” the woman said emphatically, but quietly. “And though I didn’t know them, I know with absolute certainty that they do not blame you or want you to blame yourself. They want you to live on, to grieve for them for a time, to remember all the happiness you had together, but to find happiness again in time.”

The man locked eyes with the woman and I saw that oh so familiar fire in his eyes. It was hatred, burning bright like a fire.

“I want them dead, ma’am. I want them all dead. I want to pick up a phaser and kill them all to the very last and wipe their race from the face of the fucking galaxy,” he whispered, as if ashamed of his words, guilty even, but the edge in his voice was one that I had heard many times before. It was in the voices of those who were willing to burn the world down in service of the hatred in their hearts. During wartime, that fire would serve them well, to give them strength in the bad times, and the power to overcome terrible odds. In peace, it would be the demon they would need to subdue if they had any chance to live a normal life again. Many a former Resistance member was still waging that unending battle with their demon. The Federation might need many more men and women like this man if they were going to survive the wars to come.

I waited for the woman to respond, to gently condemn him for his words, words that were so antithetical to Federation ideology. Surprisingly, that condemnation never came.

“I want them dead too, Matthew,” the woman whispered with an undertone of strength and conviction, as if she didn’t want anyone else to hear her words. “And we will make them pay, I promise you. I’m going to do everything in my power to ensure that this never happens again. If that means we have to kill every last one of them, then so be it. I’ll bear that burden for you and all my people.”

I never heard what the man said in reply.

“That’s President Moss,” the security officer quietly revealed. “She’s been visiting with many who were injured during the attack, or the surviving families of the dead, listening to their stories.”