Humanity Endures

Part 13 - Epilogue | Chapter 11

Across the bridge of the Ruthless, the perennial droning of nervous conversation and the whir of concealed machinery provided an altogether pleasant ambience against which a war could be conducted. For Xertaza, however, the human conversation that her ears sensed was muffled, meaningless, and far away — faintly echoing throughout her weary mind, sowing seeds of terror in her weakening bones, forcing her heart to pound, and her breathing to be sharp and uneven, a hushed, yet distinctly alien chorus, chanted incessantly. This would be no different from many of Xertaza's previous "episodes," if it had indeed been happening during an episode: as she and her ship had progressed through the Remnant towards Tehkria for Lassarha's coronation as imperator, the inane chittering of alien voices had invaded Xertaza's thoughts, and it had not left.

Her left arm twitched; her leg muscles slowly and painfully shifted about; her throat convulsed subtly; her lungs threatened to disregard her will at any moment; while Xertaza's mind struggled to retain its sanity, her body began to fail her. She was, increasingly, at the mercy of her most hated, merciless foe — not only did she have to tolerate this hellish existence, Xertaza realized, but she had to fight a war with it, all while acting as if nothing were wrong. "Perhaps Elthinar can help", she thought, though even she realized that hoping he could progress beyond mild alleviation of her crippling ailment was a hopelessly naive endeavor.

Indeed, as alien shrieking tainted every thought that passed through her mind, Xertaza became even more certain that her degraded condition was a direct result of the aliens' increased presence throughout the galaxy; if the progression of the war was any indication, then it was clear that this internal crisis would only become worse with time. Xertaza cursed, before her lungs forced the her to keel over in a violent coughing fit that drew the fearful eye of many nearby. Her eyes fixing on her forearm, where a few isolated specks of shimmering red blood now lay, Xertaza, though she remained hopeful that humanity could survive its great war against the alien scourge, lost any hope that she would. As a wave of crushing, terrible truth threatened to kill her before her condition did, Xertaza, drawing on her unending desire and will to persevere, swore to continue fighting the most important fight there ever was, to her last breath and last drop of blood, no matter what became of her in the process. Perhaps more importantly, she resolved to never let herself, her ship, or any in her crew to join the alien scourge — considering the monstrous fate that awaited those who were captured alive by the aliens, or whose bodies remained intact after they fell, annihilation was unquestionably preferable.

Despite the limited comfort lent by such a definitive personal resolution, however, Xertaza's consciousness remained haunted by an unending orchestra of alien voices, and, beyond that, the increasingly dangerous strategic situation of the Empire. While insidious fear began to once more creep into her heart, Xertaza sought to combat it by mentally reciting the perennially comforting words, "Humanity endures," though these thoughts, set against a backdrop of hushed, endless alien screeches, served only to subtly pervert their meaning, rather than console her in her time of crisis. Worse still, as nearly none knew of the source of her plight, and as revealing the extent to which the issue had progressed would do her a mortal blow, it was abundantly clear that Xertaza would have to endure, alone.

For the first time in its long, storied, and bloodied history after it had reached the stars, humanity's very existence was threatened, along with that of the galaxy itself. While the fires of the civil war still smouldered, what remained of the galaxy mobilized itself totally to face this new threat, and its denizens understood that they would unquestionably face horror, adversity, misfortune, and death, as they had never before imagined. Heroism surged to combat the waves of madness and destruction enveloping the galaxy, and yet, many questioned whether it would be enough against the aliens' onslaught, for the brave were just as mortal as the cowardly. Trillions — soldiers, civilians, families, and everything in between — would perish; hundreds, if not thousands of planets, would burn to ash, while many more would be corrupted by an overwhelming enemy. The human race's brilliance, its tenacity, and its millennia-honed talent for adaptation, survival, and war, were finally challenged in an interstellar crucible — even if humanity survived, it would be remade.

Truly, though the alien foe was both great and terrible, ineffable and monstrous, in the human race, it had its match. The stars themselves were a battleground; the universe itself was at stake. No victor was foreseeable, a peaceful resolution had never been possible, and neither side would give in until they had been utterly eradicated. With all that had already happened, with all the unimaginable losses suffered, and with innumerable battles having stained countless suns with human blood, the dark truth of the crisis was frequently forgotten — the conflict for control of the galaxy had barely begun.

***

"This devourer plague may take my world, it may take a hundred worlds, it may take a thousand. It may sweep the streets of Earth, and purge life from the birthplace of the Tekran, but it will never kill us all: humanity does not lose. Humanity endures."

— Zelandarix Tekran, planetary consul of Ihndrastar, his last words.