The med bay is a place of solemn silence aside from the occasional sob from Lieutenant Carter... the second communication officer. I sit across from him as the ship's doctor does all manner of blood tests and neurological scans. I stare at the ground knowing what will happen as I've seen it hundreds of times in my over sixty years of life. It just isn't fair, but it's the curse nearly all of mankind is forced to carry. The doctor looks over at me and gives me a look telling me it is the curse that is causing the LT to suffer. Based on what he told me, he either has two days of sanity or life left. Depends on how tough he is. I ask him lowly,

"What religion do you follow? I'll call a chaplain."

He sniffles out,

"I'm a Christian... no denomination."

I nod and send a text to the USS Catfish's chaplain, a priest of the Astra Christian Church, the evolution of the Catholic church after... well... after what caused the illness we see now.

I stand up and look him in the eye before stating,

"Go to your stateroom. Write a letter for your loved ones and get into your dress uniform."

Through tears, he asks,

"Please, sir... I...I have a family. I want to go home... Just let me go..."

I frown and grit my teeth together loudly but keep my composure and say again,

"Lieutenant Carter. Give your family some solace. Write the letter... it would mean the world to them. I will deliver it myself to them."

He simply bows his head in defeat before wandering off through the halls of the ship. His gait is slow and he seemingly can barely keep his footing. I feel a burning in the back of my eyes but I keep my face stone cold. I cannot let anyone see this break me.

I walk back to the bridge, dragging my feet as I keep my composure. Once there I announce,

"There will be a funeral for Lieutenant Carter in hangar 1. You all have one hour, wear your best. It's the least we can do."

I then leave for hangar 1. Shariah follows me but says nothing, the look in my eyes is probably not a good one. Once in the open space, I have the hangar crew put the shuttle stored there onto the ceiling rack, giving a large open space for the process. I retrieve a small box from my pocket, one I grabbed on my way to the armory, and hold it in my gloved hands. I don't want to think about it. Soon people begin trickling in, including LT Carter who has wiped his face. He stands in front of the blast doors in parade rest as a line of naval officers and marines line up before him. The Chaplain, an old priest shuffles in and stands at the ready. I then stand two feet away from the dead man and stare him in the eye. I wait another few minutes as he wipes the last tears on his sleeve. I then start,

"Lieutenant Carter of the USS Catfish... on behalf of the entirety of the United States of America I thank you for your service. You have acted diligently and honorably and we cannot ask for more. While your service has ended here, you will live on with the ship you called home. In the legends and myths of all the great sailors and seamen, from the days of wood and sails to our modern trails of steel and nuclear fire there are men like you. They litter the sea floor and the stars beyond. May you join them in the hearts and minds of those who will follow.

I now offer you, your final medal."

I open the small box revealing a brilliant red heart. A medal made for occasions like these. I then continue,

"As we faced our great foe who put us in chains in his dying breaths he cursed us all. This curse follows mankind wherever it roams. For our loss, and your service I award you with the Crimson Heart. This medal is awarded to those who until their final moments challenge our oppressors even when separated by over a century. A life made short by the spite of wicked men is a hard one to live, but to march forward, to rage against the curse that has cut your life short is the greatest thing a man can do. We thank you for all your sacrifice and service."

I pin the medal to his chest and then finish my speech,

"As your commanding officer, I will be the executor of your final will. Let the choice be yours what you leave behind and how you wish to go."

He hands me a letter with his shaky hands and I take it. Carefully I put it into my breast pocket. He doesn't speak for a while as he fights tears, facing oblivion like a true man. He then says,

"I want you to do it sir. It would be a great honor."

My face shows no emotion but I want to scream. I want to grab him and curse him for his choice, but it is my role. I nod and step aside stating,

"So it shall be. If it is your will, your last rites will be performed."

The priest approaches and they go through the whole ceremony and finally, it is time. His last words are spoken and he kneels to the ground. His comrades and closest friends place a large American flag on the ground behind him and I swallow heavily. He takes a pair of noise-cancelling headphones from his pocket and says quietly,

"It's the last message from my family... before going on this voyage."

I say nothing and let it play for a moment as I draw the large caliber handgun from my side. It's a single-shot 12.7x40mm handgun designed for this task. He closes his eyes and his whole body shakes as he holds back tears. I don't touch the gun to him but he can probably feel how close it is. He whispers as I assume the video ends,

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"I love you too..."

*Bang.....*

His friends wrap him in the flag, covering everything. It is bundled up and the wrapped body is carried away to be properly cremated before his ashes are stored for the return home. I feel my knees shake and even my metal fingers won't stop shaking as I try to remove the brass casing from the handgun as is proper. I place the brass onto the star-spangled burial shroud. I then salute him a final time...

I sit on my bed my eyes wet now that I am far away from it all. I can't drink, not tonight despite my shaking hands practically begging me to. If anything touched my lips I think I'd hurl. My night gets worse by Shariah enters my room. She silently moves to the small desk near my bed and sits on the chair there as I stare at her. I see sweat form on her brow, I can only imagine the glare I'm giving her at the moment. She then asks a stupid question,

"What...What was that?"

I fall back onto training and the books to avoid an angry outburst,

"Naval Code section 5 article 7. Any beginning to show mental degradation due to the curse laid upon humanity shall be removed from duty. If the curse has progressed past the third major seizure the subject shall face an honorable death as an act of mercy. If the subject's mental state doesn't allow for consent anymore it falls upon the highest commanding officer to carry out the task of this death.

May God have mercy upon us who are cursed.

End Code."

She grits her teeth and says in an outburst,

"I know the codes! The Diplo-Corps has the same one. I just don't understand why that is. How can it come to this?"

I frown and say in a low voice avoiding eye contact,

"I have lived for sixty-four years. That is twenty years more than the average expected lifespan of a human male in this current year. My kind is not immune to the curse, I am simply lucky it has not been expressed. You are from a paradise world, you were bred to be a plaything and a pet to those men who put humanity in chains. Why would they curse their own pets? "

I can tell my words hurt her, but she says nothing as I continue,

"I have outlived almost all my friends and family. Uriel, Josef, and my old mentor are also lucky, and I am lucky to have them around still although I am sure my old mentor has passed on by now. You come from a privileged group, from a world where the curse isn't a concern to you and you've never seen its effects."

She shudders and asks,

"What does it do? Why do you have to kill them?"

I grit my teeth and answer,

"Have you ever watched a mother slaughter her own children? Seen a man flay himself alive with a smile on his face? Have you watched cannibals devour their neighbors?

No... you haven't and I hope you never will. I have and I know the consequence of letting the curse carry on until it is fully expressed."

She grimaces at the thought and asks innocently,

"What is it? We never learned it in school..."

I give a dry laugh before responding,

"A Prion. Simply put it is a form of prion modified from the Creutzfeldt-Jakob prion from Earth. In all of our wonderful scientific innovations, cures for all diseases and nearly all cancers...we cannot fix a misfolded protein... It was a two-pronged attack. One was a specially designed virus with no symptoms and highly contagious that implanted a new genetic code into all of mankind, except the paradise worlders and their own breed. While the code has been repaired the damage cannot be. It forced the body to produce the wrong protein and it took just long enough to start killing that by that point it had been passed to nearly everyone. It spreads through placental nutrition, hell I don't think there is a mammal meat in existence that doesn't contain at least one of these prions.

It likes to wait... and then it strikes... 80% of all humans will die from it... that arent your kind or the kind of our oppressors... It was the final cost of breaking the chains, a form of MAD that took the most horrible method to do so.

It's so incurable, and so targeted it's hard to call it a disease, simply it is a curse. It can be delayed... but never beaten...

As far as I know, no one knows why the paradise worlders are immune to it, but you are... so you are lucky."

I stop talking because I don't want to continue, plus I may have gotten something wrong so it's better to go quiet now. She thinks on this for a moment before asking,

"I was never told the complete history of the crimes the United Nations Central Authority committed... they were seen on my homeworld as... corrupt but with the right vision for humanity."

I scoff and say under my breath,

"Good dog..."

But I apologize as she continues after glaring at me,

"We were always taught it was something wrong with everyone else. A consequence of people being... too free... and not free of consequences.

I don't know how you take it so well..."

I slam the ground as I stand up rapidly and shout,

"I don't take it well! I am the commanding officer of this ship and this fleet! My job is to protect everyone and make sure they get home safe! To see them as my beloved children! My heart breaks every time one of my crewmates dies even in combat! How do you think taking one of their lives makes me feel? It's like my heart is being riddled full of holes with white-hot needles!"

I sit down with a huff and breathe heavily before I lower my voice and say quietly,

"Let this be a lesson... never let your crew see you cry, or anyone under your command. The CO is the foundation... don't show any cracks.

I'm sorry for yelling, today has been a bad day."

She sits there for a while completely quiet before whispering,

"Why did you have to call me a dog?"

I reply quietly,

"If you're a dog, then I'm a mangy old stray.

Please leave me be. I need to compose myself."

She leaves without further questions or response. That's the proper reaction.

I've seen so many die... why is it always the young ones with family?

The curse... it doesn't discriminate, young or old it shows up when it wants. It kills some in a mercifully quick manner, and others it doesn't kill, only allowing them to fall into madness as their brains are turned into mush. It was so insidiously designed it cannot be detected until it is in full production and in the process of performing its task. It's found in meat, it's found in breastmilk from mothers, it's found in water for short periods of time, and it's found in soil. It is the perfect bioweapon for the purpose of slowly destroying your enemy, that was their plan.

They lost the war, they lost control of humanity and left known space. They waited until we had fractured once more when the curse had ravaged our people so greatly we were weak and they came back. They focused on the worlds which opposed them the worst, my home being one of them and the consequences were... devastating. There never needed to be a dangerous alien race... we had that and more within ourselves.

I look over at that tattered and bloodstained flag on my wall and feel empty. I say to it,

"I'm not much better than you all... am I?"

I stand up and slap my face a few times. My expression growing stoic and cold. I say to the flag,

"I am the eater of worlds, your final executioner... you continue to remind me of that."

I can't help but smirk at my own little mental act of defiance before finishing,

"I glassed your homes as you did mine, it's only a shame I can't torment you as long as you've tormented me.

I won't break, that is how I'll haunt your ghosts..."

I sit down in the command seat and make a general order for all those who went to the funeral to take the day off. I know it's unprofessional but it's the least I can do. I sit at my console and link all the information into my neural link. It hurts my head but it allows me to do the tasks of everyone in the bridge crew at once. I can't keep it up for very long, eight hours at most, but I am the foundation, and I am hard as a rock...