I stood transfixed on the bridge of my flagship, the Resurgence, marveling at the grandeur beyond the reinforced glass. How could something be so monstrously cruel and so eerily beautiful at the same time? The usually serene void was ablaze with colours, as the two Armadas clashed in a slow and yet deadly dance. Enormous dreadnoughts floated absurdly above Mars’ reddish atmosphere, like jagged mountain peaks rising above the clouds. The sheer titanic size of those ships made it hard to believe that they were man-made engines of war, rather than the relics of some ancient race. Squadrons of fighter jets zig-zagged between them, spitting fire at one another, while spinning in such a frenzy that would make any ballet dancer jealous. Explosions blossomed across the sky, decorating the darkness like children’s fireworks. Everything was so confusing yet precisely detailed, as if all was just a dream. Except this was no dream -- this was our Republic’s last stand against the Terran Empire, and we were on the losing side.
It had been ten years since we first revolted against the tyranny of Earth and for ten years war and duty separated me from my family. It came down to this final confrontation. I would probably never see my children again, and they were just toddlers when left. A sudden guilt burned through me as I realised just how much I had sacrificed for the cause of liberty. I wondered, for the thousandth time if what I did was worth it. I wished someone else would bear my burden, but apparently I was the best and ‘irreplaceable’. There was also something about me having ‘the mind of a poet’, like my father before me. Little did they know that I was weary of this bloody war. I just wanted to go home.
“Sir, we are receiving a direct transmission from the Annihilator ,” a mechanical voice murmured behind me, breaking my trance. It was one of my pilots, her mind synchronised into the ship’s systems. A chill ran down my spine: the Annihilator was the flagship of the Commander of the Terran Armada. The man’s reputation for cruelty and burning everything in his path surpassed the need for a name. He was evil incarnate. Some even suggested he was an A.I. which accounted for his lack of emotions and strategic brilliancy.
“Put him through,” I grunted, even though I detested the man and had more important matters to deal with. A pale hologram flickered to life before me, illuminating the shadow of a giant. The mere sight of his bald head disgusted me, and his voice slithered like a serpent seeking its next victim.
“Arch-Admiral Augustus,” he rasped in a mocking tone, “your fleet is outnumbered three to one. Surrender now and the Emperor may spare your miserable life.”
“Reinforcement will be here soon,” I snapped, attempting to seem brave, “and I’d rather die on my own ship.”
“Such foolish defiance,” he cackled, “ your little ambush party on Phobos isn't coming to rescue you. I personally jammed all signals from that moon.”
I froze, unable to comprehend what I just heard. How did he know about my plans? Someone must have betrayed me. Without thinking, I hailed the Third Fleet on Phobos with my personal communication unit. Nothing. I could feel the dreadful presence of failure slowly creeping onto the bridge.
“Until then, consider your options.”
A sudden surge of despair overwhelmed me, rooting me to the spot. The Third Fleet was the Republic’s last hope; without them we would be decimated by our enemies. Then Mars herself would fall and the past ten years of revolution would be in vain. What must I do? What could I do? Think. Think. Think! My hands frantically rubbed against my chin, but there was nothing. Nothing but blank space.
In my panic, my mind drifted randomly to something my father once said, “Poetry is what happens when your mind stops working; for a moment, all you do is feel.” Indeed, all I felt in that instant was pure fear trembling through my body, rendering my brilliant mind useless. Then some T.S. Eliot drifted in from nowhere:
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
Suddenly I knew what must be done. It was as if I had known it all along, that this was how fate had sown my destiny. Yet I hesitated, not willing to accept this reality. There must be some other way...
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Millions would die, including my own men. But would it be worth it? The lives of millions for the freedom of billions? Would I be condemned as a villain, or exalted as a saviour? The titanic battle outside seemed so distant now, so insignificant compared the angels and devils clashing within my head...
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
Deep down I knew I would have no other choice. We were not fighting for ourselves, but for the independence of our people. We could not afford defeat. Nor would a victory be possible without the Third Fleet. I must act now, for Mars, for freedom, and for our families...
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
I gave the order.
At first I thought the crew might mutiny, believing that I intended on a cowardly escape. However, they followed my instructions in silence, without any objections. They could see the pain and firm resolution in my eyes and they too understood what was at stake. They alone knew the righteousness of my actions. I did not lie to them when I proclaimed, ‘I would put my life before the Republic.” Beneath the bridge, the Resurgence’s powerful engines began to rumble. Five more minutes and everything would be over. Someone began playing Mozart’s Requiem in the background.
In a way I felt glad. The burden I had carried for a decade fell from my shoulders. I was content and felt proud that my crew was with me at the very end. I even believed that I had lived a satisfying life. “It is a far, far better thing than I do, than I have ever done. It is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known,” I told myself, knowing what horrors awaited me...
For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.
Tears streamed down my face as I placed my fist to my heart in one final salute. Somehow I managed to croak out the words with my dry mouth:
“Hail Liberty.”
“Hail Liberty!” My crew echoed and returned the salute. Then, almost in unison:
“Hail Augustus!”
The Resurgence surged forward and rammed into the Annihilator at lightspeed, slicing the mighty dreadnought in half as easily as a knife through a peach.
There was a pause, followed by an eerie silence. It was as if time itself had stopped. For the briefest moment, I thought we had survived.
Then the bridge burst into flames and men began to scream. My last thoughts were of my children, hoping they would forgive me...
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
Per Aspera Ad Astra.
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