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Chapter 269 – At the end of days…

James looked around slowly as everyone settled onto their various places in the circle – whether they were their very own seats or not.

Despite the comparatively thin atmosphere that was upheld aboard the station, the air in the room felt thick and heavy as he focused on taking one breath after the next against his heavily battered lungs. Though, most likely, it was his mental condition far more than his physical one that ultimately made the difference there.

As he allowed his gaze to move across everyone, weary looks were being exchanged between the various participants of what would surely be the most unusual assembly that had ever taken place within these questionably hallowed halls.

Despite the Council’s chambers being designed to achieve exactly that, the people who had come together here most certainly were not all seeing eye to eye.

From those who were still stuck within a gone-by world after their view had been hand-selected to them by those who came before, over those who had their world rocked to the core by recent events and were still trying to make sense of it all, to those who were with him in taking the next step out of this shadow that had been cast over an entirely galaxy for far too long at this point. And yet still, all of them were brought together here by the undeniable certainty of the situation.

For a moment, his gaze moved upwards; up to where the eternalized faces of the very first of these Councils were gazing down in judgment upon these proceedings. And he couldn’t help but wonder how they might have thought about them.

Not that he, personally, held an especially grant reverence for the politicians who had first decided to form a galactic alliance himself. However, with the way some of the people who were climbing onto one of their seats now would likely give many among the patchwork of a Council which had ruled the Community for roughly a hundred of his years now an aneurysm on the spot, he couldn’t quite help but think how the very first one which they idolized so much would have reacted in their stead.

How many of those among the first Council had already been rotten through by the very poisonous hate that had inflicted so many of their successors after them? How many of them had, from the very first day, laid the groundwork and foundation for the very corruption and injustices that he and his allies now had to fight back against to this very day?

And how many may have been of a different mind? How many may have been, back then before the Galactic Uniformity had the time to grow deep roots into the collective subconscious of the people; back before there were hard lines on what was normal and accepted; before the various people of completely different planets had began to order and arrange themselves into arbitrary classes and collections that were based on little more than first impressions; when there were no ‘coreworlders’ because only the coreworlds had been discovered, and when ‘Deathworlder’ was just a blossoming term the value of which was yet to be decided – How many among them had a true dream for a ‘Community’ in mind?

How many of those stern faces gazing down at him with expressions of firm judgment were, in reality, hiding the adventurous heart of a dreamer and visionary behind them? Someone who had looked among the many people of the Galaxy in wonder and imagined a future of what they could achieve together?

Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but when he gazed up to them now, James could not help but wonder how many of them had their dreams trampled by those who came after. How many of them would look with disgust upon what had happened here today?

How many of them would be willing to take their stand along with him? Along with his allies? How many would rise up to their seats on this Council and stand among Carnivores; among Deathworlders and Cyborgs; among all living things, organic and not, making a stand for a Galaxy that would be a home to everyone, rather than simply those who fit into a specific mold – or made themselves fit if they didn’t.

After a bit of wandering, his eyes found the massive statue of the zodiatos specifically. The six petrified eyes of the colossus looked back down at him almost head on from his current position. During his learning about the Galaxy, he had surely learned their name at some point. Had learned their titles and achievements and a whole lot of other detail about their history.

Right now? He couldn’t recall any of it. Not one bit. If he was being honest, looking at the statue, he wasn’t even sure if it was a bull or a cow being depicted there. Only their very species was hard to miss. Everything else?

No name. No titles. No labels at all.

Only a person. A person that very much looked like the very people who most of all wished to see him either dead or broken. But who also looked like someone who had broken out of the Galactic mold just as much. Or at least she was beginning to.

“So…” he thought quietly as he stared up at the statue. “Whose side would you be on, big fella?”

By that point, he could only imagine his eyes were probably beginning to glaze over a little. In his current state, he should most likely have been doing anything else rather than being here. However, what point would there have been to him resting right now? The way things were going, it might’ve very well been that he wouldn’t be around to enjoy the benefits of that anymore if he did.

And yet here he was, staring at statues and thinking about long-dead people. Sometimes, the human mind really was funny like that…

“James?” a voice from besides him pulled him out of his thoughts. Looking to his left, his eyes fell upon the pitch-black body of Curi, who had decided to take up the empty seat right beside him in this loose arrangement of Councilmembers and guests.

“I’m fine,” he assured, lying through his teeth. Well, sort of. He was ‘fine’ according to the circumstances. It was just that the circumstances were about as bad as they got.

Inhaling deeper, he decided to try his best to focus on the moment at hand once again instead of dwelling on impossible what-ifs.

At this point, it seemed that everyone had found a place for themselves in the circle of Council seats, whether it was their own or that of someone who had for one reason or another left it abandoned.

And still, even with some people filling up empty seats that weren’t their own, the room as a whole still looked rather empty as it was now, only filling about half of the current Council’s capacity – if one was to be extremely generous.

Of course, some of the missing places were going to at least spiritually be filled by those who were still very much present and willing on the station, but who were either smarter or less tenacious than he was and had therefore been forced to accept that they would not physically be able to attend here in person.

But they, too, would hardly make a dent in the overall appearance.

It was simply too many of them who had either been evacuated, were hiding away somewhere, locked up...or possibly had worse happen to them.

His heart stung. As the idea of Councilmembers who had possibly fallen without anyone’s knowledge entered his mind, his brain did not actually conjure up the visage of any of the Members whose fates had so far been left unclear.

Instead, the only face he could think of was that of Moar. Her gentle expression. Her calm smile. Her determination to see this through. And just how much she, possibly more than any of them, would have deserved to find a place on one of these coveted seats after the way she had come since they had first run into each other within the halls of the G.E.S.

A small, irrational part of him almost wanted to wait for her. Wanted to save her a seat so she could catch up and take her rightful part in these proceedings.

Of course he knew that wasn’t a possibility. But with how much he had gone through today, a small part of him was unwilling to accept an even more horrendous reality than the one he had already found himself in.

He looked over the Council. So many faces he barely knew. Some of them friendly. Some of them not. All of them placed into their position by the galaxy’s people, but many of them for vastly different reasons.

He looked over his friends. Exactly the opposite; they all found themselves here for the very same reason, and yet they all had made their way to where they were now through vastly different means and circumstances.

His heart stung once more. Moar had been the first. The very first friend he had made out among the stars. Of course, back then, he had still believed it to be the Captain instead, but...that fantasy had been thoroughly shattered.

From that moment onward, she had been with him all the way to this point...all the way to her end – and that despite the fact that she could hardly look him in the eyes and froze at the very sight of his smile at first.

And then…

His mechanical hand moved to gently feel over the deep scars on his left arm. Back when they had cut his arm off on Osontjar, the Matriarch had told him they had decided to take the right to leave him with these scars as a reminder.

It had been meant as mockery and insult but… in hindsight, that may ultimately have been the only kind thing she had ever done for him.

Looking to his other side, his eyes fell upon Shida’s arm. Though it was covered by her sleeve, he still knew it was there: The tattoo.

The tattoo she had gotten of these very same scars, along with so many others of their little group.

A sign of solidarity. Of belonging. And a reminder.

A reminder of their first meeting. And, inadvertently, a reminder of the very first sign he had come upon that something about the galaxy was rotten. About the first thing they had actively tried to hide from him.

It was ironic in a way. Had they not wished to keep people somewhat in the dark about him, and by extension him about the status of the deathworlders; and had they simply done the same with him as they did with everyone else and warned him of the ‘High-Class Deathworld Predator’ on board of the ship that he did not need to be concerned or panicked about… perhaps it would have all come very different.

Sure, he would have asked questions. But those scars on his arm would most certainly not have been there. And who really knew what else may have been wiped away along with them?

Among all of the chaos and betrayal, they were one thing he was truly grateful for. In spite of his stinging heart, a warmth gradually filled his chest as he gazed over at his love.

At this point, it had become hard to remember how much thinner she had been back then. How small how...atrophied in comparison to how she looked now. He also hardly remembered her face before it had gotten the long scars that now ran down its side.

To him, this was simply how Shida looked. And yet, if he imagined showing her now to the version of himself that had first fallen in love, he might hardly even recognize her.

So much had happened and so far they had come in the time since their first meet.

And now, looking at her with a warm yet heavy heart, he only wished that it could have been longer…

It was hard to believe that it had hardly been more than a year with how much had changed. All the way back then, it would have been out of the question for her to have someone artificially inject ink into her arm to draw a picture – much less so be with someone who had an entire limb replaced by a robotic arm.

Those who had a grasp on the Galaxy had also had their claws dug deeply into her back in those times. A condition that had slowly begun to change when they both met Curi. The very person who would then go on to create this very arm for him when he had reached one of his lowest points.

Shida had called him insane when he basically dove into fire to pull Curi out of their burning lab during their first meeting. Today, it would probably hardly be of note.

Then again, he doubted the Curi today would simply sit in their lab and ponder their machine’s failure as fires raged around them like they had done back then. Then, it had been their sole focus. They had been so...disconnected from everyone and everything else that their work and their machines had been the only things they thought about. When ‘Figuring it out’ had likely been the only thing that still felt as though it gave them purpose after everyone had effectively cut them loose.

But when he looked at them now, standing tall at the center of the Galaxy as battle and chaos raged around them; having stepped down here willingly and played an incredible part in the liberation of the station, not through stunned inaction, but through the determination that this was worth giving it everything they had...well, it was sort of the opposite to what he thought while looking at Shida.

With her, she looked completely different, but in his mind she had never been anything else. On the other hand, Curi’s pitch black, metal body had hardly changed ever since their first meeting, apart from the noticeably discolored patch on their side where a wound from a bullet had to be healed and repaired.

And still, he hardly recognized them as they carried themselves high with pride and confidence, even as the remainders of the Galaxy’s supposed elite bombarded them with disapproving and straight up venomous glances.

Though he supposed it was hard to let that sort of thing shake you when people literally tried to have you killed before.

Especially if one of the very people who did it were in the room with them now.

There were none here of whom it felt stranger to see them ascend onto one of the empty Council seats than Reprig, of course. None of those who remained here were nearly as deeply ingrained into the group of people they were currently fighting against than he was. So much so that he had, for a while, been the very face of the people they fought against in James’ mind – at least until the High-Matriarch and Alexander Paige had taken that place from him.

He was the first who James had ‘found out’. The first agent of the Galaxy’s machinations that he found himself directly confronted with – to the point that they had, in a way, traded limbs with each other.

If he was completely honest, James had no idea how he currently felt about the Sipusserleng. He had strange feelings about him ever since their communal stint on Osontjar.

Of course, with everything he had done, there was no reality in which he would ever feel anything like true sympathy for the former Warrant-Officer. However, after current events, James did feel like it wasn’t just his exhaustion alone that made him willing to bury the hatched with Reprig just long enough so that they both might reach the place where they would face their just deserts for their past actions.

Admittedly, a rather firm push in that direction was the running-blade attachment that Reprig now wore on the stump that James himself had given him – with only one person around who would likely have been able to not only convince him of actually wearing such a thing he would have beloathed for nearly his entire life, but to also provide it to him on such short notice as well.

He knew Reprig had saved Curi’s life, somewhat making up for at least one of his crimes – or at the very least actively showing his change since those dark days on the G.E.S.

However, he thought of those days on Osontjar, back when they both first had to get used to being down a limb, and how out of the question it had always seemed for the Sipusserleng to do anything but live the rest of his life using that crutch.

A single moment’s miscalculation, and the entire trajectory of his life had changed. Just a bit of overconfidence.

Of course the events on the Great Community Station had changed everyone’s lives in the end, not only those of the people who lost a limb.

Shida and Moar left the service of the Galaxy. Curi was effectively on the run. The whole crew of the G.E.S. essentially broke apart. Quiis went into politics.

And, of course, there was one man who uprooted his entire life based on a single bar fight he had started on a whim.

Of course, since then, James had learned that there had likely been a bit more deliberation to Congloarch’s actions than simply finding a guy he liked in a bar and sticking with him through the most chaotic time of his life since.

But even then and even with the whole Vennahassari-business, James could not understate how much of a help both directly and indirectly the tonamstrosite had become simply by sticking by him no matter how difficult the situation became – and that pretty much since minute one.

He had been instrumental first in getting James through the G.C.S. and, when the time came, in getting his friends out of there instead. He supported them. He offered advice.

He had fought literal tooth and nail during the attack on Gewelitten. And even though it had left him with deep scars in his mind, he was still here now… and now with someone else by his side who he stuck to just as loyally.

It was hard to believe he deserved all this – deserved all of them – James found himself thinking. People who had come from so many places. Who had gone through much. Who had so many endless reasons to turn around and walk away from him while totally justified – and yet they never did.

People whose way had ultimately led to this point. Standing with him at a time when it was even harder to see the way forward than it had already been for them.

And as he stood there, taking in each of them and their silent support, all he could think was how glad he was to have them… and how horrible it was that they were here.

“James- I am...building connection and- starting the recording,” a voice then announced through the speakers of the room. Chopped. Pained.

Of course, there was his latest companion as well. Though, even as she fought as hard as any of them had ever done, Avezillion’s fate after this was even more unknown than his own.

“Thank you Avezillion,” James said and rubbed a hand over his face to try to focus. The gamble he had taken by trusting a Realized may have been the biggest risk he ever faced. And yet, even with where it had ultimately gotten him, and how guilty he felt that so many others were now paying the debt of his bet along with him...he could not bring himself to regret it.

Not with her proving for every second of this conflict just why she had deserved someone to stand in her corner, and even more so how much she deserved a chance to fight for herself.

James stretched for a moment, his entire body screaming and aching against even the slight strain of his muscle as though they had been set ablaze by hot nails being hammered into every ending of his nerves.

Yet, despite that, he pushed himself to stand straight – which only succeeded somewhat. Even with every bit of power of will in the Galaxy, there was no covering up the damage he had taken. Not magical boost of confidence that would allow his battered body to push through the injury and lack of energy that it suffered.

Just like there was no magical cure for the rasp in his voice as he spoke, no matter how much he may have wanted to sound firm and inspiring.

He had given all he had. Now, he had to deal with what was left.

“Hereby I, Councilman James Aldwin, officially open the assembly of the Galactic Council, including all members still present, able bodied and minded, and willing within the Council Station,” he rasped out, briefly fearing that his voice would not even be loud enough to be picked up by the microphones and thus amplified.

Luckily, it had not gotten quite that bad just yet, though he firmly believed he was right on the cusp.

“Due to our low numbers and the rather dire situation, I’m going to forgo taking attendance,” he continued on and lifted his mechanical arm to gesture in the rounds. “Is there any protest?”

The room remained silent. Even the most vehement sticklers for procedure would not have raised an issue over such a step in their current position. After all, this was hardly an official Council meeting to begin with.

James swallowed heavily, almost feeling like he was gargling on glass shards.

“As anyone can see, this is a rather...unusual assembly,” he then went on and swept his gaze slowly trough the room. “The Council reduced to rather meager remains and...some faces who may or may not be familiar to you taking up some of the empty seats. I assume anyone who will ultimately receive this message will have… a lot of questions.”

He briefly had to pause, covering his mouth as he heavily suppressed a cough. He needed to take quite a few deep breaths before he could go on.

“Since time is of the essence, I will do my best to keep things brief,” he then went on when he finally felt like he could speak without fear that he would spew out blood as soon as he opened his mouth, even though that worry may have been misplaced. “Right now, the Council-Station is under attack,” he stated directly, swallowing heavily one more time as his expression darkened. “Of course, when anyone receives this, it is likely that the attack has long since concluded and…”

He paused briefly. This time not out of physical need. Rather, he took a deep breath and had to internally brace himself for the reality he was about to speak into existence against his will that still attempted to deny it.

“...and if that is the case, it is likely that none of us have been found alive after its conclusion,” he finally continued on. As he spoke, he saw the wave of shaky, disheartened glances that were exchanged between everyone present; many of them closing their eyes for a moment or even covering their face, even though they all had been as aware of this possibility as he was. No matter how prepared you were, it would never be an easy reality to face. “Right now, we consider it likely that the people attacking the station will have killed us by the time you see this. What we cannot predict, however, is the official story that you may have been told about this attack in the aftermath. Therefore, as what may well be our last act as the Council of your representatives and servants of the Galaxy, we, with the support of the militaries of Earth and Dunnima as well as the support of the people of this station, have fought our way through the attacks in order to come together and record, for you the people, what truly happened on this day.”

He glanced around for a moment. With the way his voice was running raw, he wondered if someone else may have wanted to take up the word for him.

However, no one made any move to. With their faces still grim, everyone who had assembled here quietly looked to James. Looked to him to continue on. Looked to him to carry this torch to completion.

He would likely never understand what exactly he had done to reach this position. To become this...figure head that he had never asked to be, and that he most certainly did not feel as though he was.

But still, if that was what was needed of him right now…

“Right now, the station is under attack by Galactic forces, acting under the order of the High-Matriarch of the zodiatos and Leader-Supreme of the G.E.S. Apojinorana Audoxya Tua, as well as her candidate for the Nahfmir-Durrehefren,” he testified to the recording cameras. “We can’t say who else is involved, but as far as we can tell, she is the ring leader.”

He paused, his head briefly swimming with what exactly he needed to get across – what exactly the Galaxy needed to hear from their leaders in order for this last message to not be in vain.

“For this attack, she managed to cut the entirety of the Station off from the Network, which is why no one received news of this attack as it happened. Originally, she arranged a riot on the station through the assassination of her own friend, the former Councilman Cashelngas Zenshacild. She then planned to attack the station during the chaos of those riots; having her troops massacre her political enemies and the rioting protesters alike – ultimately claiming it necessary to bring order after the situation supposedly lost all control,” he explained further, trying to make it as succinct as possible. “In the same action, she wanted to convince the Council – and foremost myself – to join her in the rhetoric that order must return to the galaxy through strict controls as well as the denunciation of everything I have fought for during the last year. Should I decline, she threatened the release of an unknown yet supposedly terrifying weapon onto the Galaxy.”

He exhaled slowly, suppressing the urge to bite his lips or clench his teeth shut as he knew he had to speak on.

“I...declined,” he explained. “For the moment, we believe her weapon to not be truly under her control. However, once the isolation of the station breaks...we can only pray she doesn’t unleash it on the galaxy out of spite. Should she still be around when you see this, know that you must be ready to stop her should she still plan to use it for her plot.”

He then sighed and rubbed his hand through his hair, looking down for a moment as he could not stand seeing all of the faces around looking at him with such intensity as he spoke.

“Either way, with her original plan foiled, she has now seemingly moved on to increasing the scope of her massacre,” he elaborated further, eyes fixating on the platform underneath him. “Though her first attack was thwarted under heavy losses on both sides, including some of our own, an enormous fleet under her command is likely boarding the station as we speak. We have neither the people nor the resources left to fight back against such a foe. Thus… we are on borrowed time.”

Letting out a firm huff, he clenched his hands into fists, his entire face scrunching up as he closed his eyes tightly. Then, he swung his head up. He couldn’t hide away. They had to see his face. He had to face this.

If he hid away now, what would all of this have been for?

“By now, many of you have likely found that some sort of cyber-agent has been faking all sorts of communications moving in and out of the Station during its blackout,” he said. Though he could not make his voice sound any cleaner, he could at least raise the volume as he pressed every word out with all the might he could still muster. “Therefore I understand it is likely that you may think this message, too, is faked. Perhaps you even believe that Avezillion herself might have fabricated it in order to hide an attack of her own.”

With that, someone stepped towards the middle of the room. A single, unformed soldier who had stood aside at James’ request. And, in their hands, they carried a currently open container that could, however, be extremely heavily sealed – as well as a far more simply bag that clinked ominously as it swung from their arm.

“We probably cannot conclusively prove that this wasn’t fabricated,” he confessed further as he gestured to the containers as they were brought to the center of the circle. “But we are going to give it our very best shot to do what we can to ensure it is far more real than anything those vile pieces of shit can fabricate instead.”

With that, he was the first to turn and move off his podium, still talking as he descended to ground level.

“Each of us will leave a sample of our DNA,” he announced. “And each of us will record the exact way it was done. In case our bodies can still be found, hopefully matching what you will see then with what you can see now will show that they weren’t simply taken against our will. And if our bodies aren't found or completely unrecognizable, try to question why.”

While he was on his way down, others were already following – many of them obviously far quicker than he was in his current state. As he approached the soldier ready to assist, Shida had already caught up to him.

So, as the bag was opened and the soldier produced a small vial from its innards, James took it with a slightly shaky hand and turned to Shida.

“You wanna do the honors?” he asked as he presented his arm to her.

Shida huffed and gave him a slight smile. With gentle force, she grabbed his wrist and bent his arm back, thus presenting his elbow to her instead. With a claw extended, she very carefully nicked the loose skin right over the joint, producing a nearly painless trickle of blood which James proceeded to catch in the vial.

The feline then proceeded to repeat the process with herself as well, before the both of them stepped back to make room for the other Councilmembers and guests – all of whom would try their best to choose a specific way that could not easily be faked through force or postmortem manipulation – even if it was unclear how well it would ultimately work.

“To all who see this… I beseech you,” James said as he looked up to one of the cameras. “Do the right thing. We’ve…”

He paused briefly, having to reach up to wipe as his face with his sleeve to catch some of the tears.

“We’ve given it all we had…” he mumbled through his half-covered face, not entirely sure if his now even more creaking voice would even be picked up at that point. "I'm sorry."

That was it. That was all they could do. They would seal those samples of themselves in the container originally meant for the RR – a seal no one would easily break, unless the entire thing was outright destroyed.

Then, Avezillion would do everything in her power to make sure that recorded message, along with every relevant attachment she could scrape together, would be securely saved within every nook of the system she could find. Every cache, every byte, right down into the very source-code of every program that ran here.

And then...all that would be left was to put up their last stand….and to hope. Hope that, by the end, at least their loved ones and all who came after would make it to a better time.

“Are you scared?” Shida asked at his side, supporting his wobbly stand with a hand around his waist while also leaning against him.

“Terrified,” James admitted unabashedly. He knew this might be the end. He had often faced situation where it may have been.

And yet it was...impossible to accept.

Shida nodded slowly against his shoulder.

“It’s weird,” she sighed. “The time since I’ve met you has been awful. And yet...it’s somehow been the best of my life,” she told him quietly. She then scoffed slightly, her ears twitching on her head as she perked up a bit. “I know neither of us believes in that sort of thing but...whatever’s next, I’ll be there with you, alright?”

With that, she offered him her hand.

A bit of a stone settled in James’ stomach. But still, he took her hand and, slowly, he smiled.

“Yeah,” he agreed, even if he truly found it hard to imagine anything else was to come. “We’ll be there together.”