Humanity Endures

Part 13 - Epilogue | Chapter 7

The brilliant view of Nahmatiix's star, almost obscured by the shattered, light-catching wrecks of millions of vessels from where Lassarha viewed it, was as captivating and beautiful as it was unsettling and foreboding. Bathed in the crimson radiance of the celestial body, countless rescue craft darted between even more numerous wrecks, seeking to save some of the tens of billions lost amongst the sea of metal — however, despite their efforts, only half a billion sailors had been saved so far, and many of those who belonged to Traitor ships were less-than-cooperative.

Though she had claimed the system of Nahmatiix, the heart of the rebellion still denied her access to its resources; though Heralax had died, and his people surrendered, his ideology persisted in the hearts of many, especially those of the ever-stubborn people of Nahmatiix. To Lassarha, this was worrying, as Nahmatiix, even in its diminished state after the civil war's climactic battle, could either make a fine addition to her war effort, or could impede it by draining her resources for a forceful occupation — to have vast swathes of the world be hostile to her rule, and to deny the service of all those who had served in his navy, would be cutting off a hand before engaging in a fistfight. Even though the civil war had been won with her being the more conventional, less radical candidate for imperator, this did not mean that Lassarha intended to leave the galaxy untouched or that she wouldn't rearrange it to her liking after — or, rather, if — she won the war against the alien scourge. Indeed, after winning at Nahmatiix, she had promised a set of reforms intended to make parts of the galaxy — those who had enthusiastically joined Heralax, had believed in his vision, and were now bitterly disappointed with his defeat — feel less ostracized, though promises of policy set to be completed after the greatest war humanity had ever faced would only go so far in the hearts of many, especially if these "many" were from Nahmatiix. Something had to be done then and there, and Lassarha believed she had at least part of this solution figured out. This in mind, Lassarha ceased viewing the broken system through the Ineffable's telescopic cameras; turning to one of her chamber's enforcer guards, she stated a simple order.

"Send him in."

A moment after Lassarha had finished speaking, the primary doors to her quarters burst open. From behind them, a tall, fit man, clad from head to toe in a scorched suit of light armor, stumbled forwards, being forcibly escorted into the room by an invisible pair of Wraiths — emblazoned clearly on his armor, despite vast sections of the suit being burned off, was an inverted Milky Way: the flag of a Traitor. Directly beside this was a copy of the ceremonial diamond medallion given only to prime admirals, though this had been scorched and deformed almost beyond recognition. With a wave of her hand, Lassarha ordered the man's helmet removed, and as the thing was torn off by one of the Wraith's impossibly strong arms, whatever remained of the man's fire-scoured face was exposed to the light. Having been thoroughly cooked by the fires of a dying flagship, the Traitor's visage was mortifying: his flesh was withered, rotten, or replaced with ash; his eyes, now replaced with recently-implanted, scope-like cameras, had been burnt away within his own helmet; his throat, blackened and charred, looked as if it would fall apart at a touch; the creature standing before Lassarha looked as human as an alien fiend, and was so repulsive to the eye that one of Lassarha's enforcer guards even visibly recoiled. Despite his sorry state, somehow, the man then spoke, "Whatever is left of me stands before you, vanquished, submissive, cooperative — the fact that I have not yet joined the billions of dead above Nahmatiix tells that you're at least willing to hear what I have to say."

Every abrasive word the man — someone Lassarha knew to be named "Keziaxan" — uttered seemed to come with unimaginable pain and suffering on his part; Lassarha, not at all displeased by this fact, took a step forward, towards the walking corpse, asking, "And what is it that you have to say?"