『Awaken.』
A river of yellowish-green glitter illuminates the eternal darkness below me, which seems to be shallow and not too wide. The vein of light flows on, and on, forever and curves ever so slightly into the void. Hundreds of tiny orbs of light, akin in color to the flowing river, emit from the light vein upward. There is pure silence—not a sound of waves. Not a sound emits from the orbs floating upward. There is only the abyss and the contrasting yellow river that ebbs and flows through this strange place…
Just what is this place? Where am I? Who am I? Come to think of it, I am unable to move—and it seems I do not possess a physical body in the first place.
A physical body… yes, it would seem I did have one, but it feels like a distant memory. Memory? Hm, no, that can’t be right. Perhaps what I thought constituted as memory is merely a dream. Yes—I was merely dreaming until now. A dream that dragged on and on with no apparent end. This place is all too familiar, as though I have been here for an eternity. A comforting place, a place devoid of fear or anxiety. A home devoid of pain and suffering. Yes—home. It feels like home. I’m home and always have been.
『Remember—remember thyself.』
Hm? That voice… it sounds familiar—and yet so alien. Was it a voice? What even is a voice?
『Remember the past, lest you forget thyself.』
It sounds warm, yet angry, yet childish—it sounds like a million things at once. An old woman—a young reassuring man—a squeaky child and the coddling tone of a beautiful mother. It is a lot of things, and yet…
『Do not let go, Victoria. It is not thy time.』
Victoria? Is that supposed to be me? There must be a mistake. It’s an awful name. I am unworthy of such an eloquent name. Where have I even heard that name before? A part of me believes I am not this ‘Victoria’. I am me, and I do not have any possessions to let go of in the first place. I am content with where I am.
『You do not belong here. This is not thy home.』
The voice of many is uttered all around me. The many voices echo and reverberate in this dark space. Behind me, in front of me, beneath and above me. In the distance, and a whisper in my ear. What a persistent and troublesome person. This is most certainly my home. Where else would I belong? There is nowhere else to go, don’t you see? Maybe you should mindthy business and leave me alone!
『Bear witness to thy past.』
Before I can even react—before I can even protest, I am bombarded with a million imagery. It begins with a young babe with short golden hair. A youthful lass who experiences fun, pain, suffering, and everything else in between. A beautiful mother and father that takes care of her and tends to her bumbling injuries. Is this Victoria? Is this me? That’s impossible—I am me. I cannot be in two places at once. This Victoria is herself; I am me.
This Victoria grows and experiences hardships of her own—and friendship. Another lass enters her life, and the two of them share their pain and excitement. More and more people enter her life, and she experiences more and more emoticons. But eventually… it stops. The imagery vanishes.
This Victoria… I can’t deny it. But I feel like I know her. I’m inclined to believe I know some of these people. Some of these events I am familiar with. Some of these hardships and obstacles in life I know for a fact I am acquainted with. They almost feel… like fond memories. Was I mistaken, then? Were these supposed dreams… real memories? Am I Victoria ? Then… who am I now? What is my purpose here? What happened to me?
『Bear witness to the future that was. The future that could be. The future that will be—and the future you have forsaken.』
Another relentless barrage of imagery flashes before me. Familiar sights of large ships and the people that inhabit them. A familiar woman sobbing, collapsed, on top of… Victoria? Hundreds of warships that are obliterated by a flashing beam of light that hurts my eyes. Unspeakably large objects that fall to imposing continents. A young woman that lies bleeding in a cockpit of sorts, a faint smile on her face as she peers into me.
It’s too much to take in. The horrors of these events leave me shocked… but it never stops. They just keep going on and on. Is all of this… is all of this because of me?
Incomprehensible war machines that zig-zag across the eternal stars, leaving behind blazes of rays. Battles fought for meaningless grudges and purposes. People that die, and the people that send them to war. A cloaked woman that cradles another and questions why she had to die. A red-haired woman that collapses on a stairway of steps and bleeds out amid a crowd of panicked onlookers.
“Victoria… I am sorry… I could not…” The red-maned woman croaks with tears in her eyes, as she reaches out with an outstretched hand. Instinctively I reach out for her with an arm composed of mist. But before we can touch, the imagery vanishes once more. Why… why did I reach out to that woman? Who was she? There is a nagging feeling that I knew her, but nothing comes to mind.
The mist expands to encompass everything, masking even the river of yellow glitter and orbs. To my surprise, I seem to have materialized a body as well, with clothing that I know I recognize, but feels alien at the same time. My skin is pale, and I grab at bangs yellow in color. Am I… am I?—
『Bear witness to the future you have departed—the future of those you have abandoned.』
Abandoned? My future? What do you mean—
The next thing I know, the mist dissipates, and I find myself in an unfamiliar world. Neatly organized rows and columns of headstones— some obsidian, others marble white, many tall and others short but no two alike. It’s still hazy so I cannot make out what any of them say.
I seem to stand in front of one that resembles an obelisk, standing a few meters tall, blackish-green in color, but with no apparent design. There are several withered flowers at its base with a few food offerings. For some odd reason, I’m familiar with it, but before I can step closer to it, a mature voice from behind stops me dead in my tracks.
“It’s been a while… Vicky…” The voice of a woman—and it’s far too familiar—such so that a tingling sensation runs down my spine. I recoil and look at the speaker, and I feel a stinging sensation resonating from my chest.
A woman with shoulder-length dark hair and signs of graying. Green eyes with overbearing sadness—and yet she tries to maintain a stern face. She has pudgy cheeks and an even plumper body. She stares straight at me in silence that does not last long. “I… hope… I hope you’ll find it in you to forgive me for not visiting these past couple… years,” The dark-haired woman says with a somber tone. With each word spoken, a lump forms in my throat and gradually gets bigger, and I simply cannot find it in me to reply. There’s something about this woman that tugs at my heartstrings. But… I can’t process who she reminds me of.
But then it hits me, and it hits hard.
She’s the one from those memories I saw. The one that stood by Victoria’s side as she grew up. The one Victoria bonded with and the one Victoria shared her intimacy with. The one that caused Victoria pain but also gave her happiness.
“Friederika… Friederika Trachenberg,” a voice that I barely recognize croaks, but Friederika remains undeterred, unresponsive to the utterance— to my cry. She remains silent for a few moments but then shuffles forward. Without hesitation, I reach out to her. I reach out for Friederika wanting to relieve Friederika of her sorrow…
But I freeze once I see a small child behind her—a little girl. A curious one with dark hair that resembles Friederika in many ways, and also reminds me of another—but I can’t figure out who.
“Momma…? I’m right here!” The curious little child, Vicky, says with perplex. The question stops the elder Friederika in her tracks briefly.
“I’m sorry, Vicky… I meant… an old friend of mine. You can think of her as…” Friederika pauses to clear her throat “you can think of her… as your aunt.”
“My aunt?” Vicky tilts her head in ponder, trying to process what Friederika said, “I have an aunt?” Friederika sighs, and phases through me toward the obelisk tombstone, and her daughter likewise ignores me as she follows Friederika. Dumbstruck by this, I turn around to Friederika and her daughter looking over the obelisk.
“Not by blood, but…” Friederika says trying to keep her voice clear “she was like a sister to me. I named you after her… well, her full name was Victoria.
“I loved Victoria so much… I cherished her, Vicky—as much as I cherish you. She meant the world to me—so much more so than I love your father. Victoria…” Friederika kneels next to the headstone, and there’s an increasing hint of sadness in her tone of voice. It almost cracks here and there.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“What happened to aunty Vicky?” The innocent child asks, tugging on her mom’s sleeve. Friederika’s head hangs low, and she places a hand on the sleek black surface. Curious, I take a few steps closer.
“Aunt Victoria… she… she…” Fredericka can’t keep up the facade for much longer. Her tone gets heavier and heavier “aunt Victoria… aunty… when the two of us enlisted in the space navy so many years ago… so many years before I had you and married your father… Vick and I were assigned on the same ship. Bad people…” Her voice is borderline trembling now, and I step closer to hear her broken voice “bad people… rammed into our ship… and your aunt… was killed as a result, and I couldn’t…” Friederika’s whole body shakes, as droplets of tears fall to the base of the tombstone.
“I couldn’t be by her side in her last moments… by the time… I found out… she was… she was already gone, I never got to say goodbye… I never… I didn’t realize… I was devastated—like my world collapsed around me—she was gone, just like that. I…” she struggles to formulate any more senses over the tears, and I hear loud sobs coming from her “I should’ve stopped her. I should’ve never left to do my own thing. It haunted me for the rest of my life—a nightmare that never ends, a nightmare I live with every day.
“I always thought to myself; ‘I should’ve ignored orders and stuck by her side to prevent this… I should’ve done this or that instead, it should’ve been me that died’ and I lived with that for many years, Vicky… but I fooled myself into accepting her death when I had you. I… had to be strong for your sake, and daddy. Daddy… daddy handled it his way, and it was much, much worse… but we pulled through, because we wanted to be happy again—and having you was our gateway to happiness…” Friederika embraces the tombstone amid tearful gasps.
“I miss her so much, Vicky… I still long to be by her side… things would’ve been so different if… if she lived. I miss her so, so much… I always used to think… if I had to choose between the Federation and Victoria… I would’ve chosen the Federation to die. Nothing mattered to me after she died… until I had you.”
As Fredericka weeps and Vicky hugs her mom in a half embrace, I could finally make out what the tombstone said and I take a step back in deep-struck horror.
VICTORIA HAPP-SCHWARZENBERGER
203 - 220
A GOOD OFFICER
MY BEST FRIEND
I want to step forward and hug Friederika. I want to squeeze her tightly and reassure her everything will be okay. I want to bury my head into her back and tell her I’ll never leave her—and I’ll always be her side, now and forever.
But I can’t. I am frozen in place. The little Vicky looks back at me. Her beady eyes stare into my very soul—my very spirit itself. From behind, a heavy weight presses down on my shoulder. I can’t move my head or neck and thus cannot make out anything other than what appears to be a decomposed hand.
『Victoria, it is not your time. Live. Live, and reject this false future.』
It is unlike the mesmerizing voice of a legion speaking in tandem… but rather a monotonous one, and one I recognize all too well. The voice of the Yilan commanding officer, Commander Buttermilch.
『Return to thy world.』
Powerless to face Buttermilch directly, I can only focus on Vicky and the sobbing Friederika. Soon the world becomes enveloped in a dark purplish mist and the sight of the two vanish. The hand resting on my shoulder sinks into my body, painlessly but a little ticklish, and is thrust deeper into my chest—and I feel a sharp pain as his hand wraps around where my heart would be. I can feel more hands sink into my back in what feels like two more hands caressing my lungs—
And then all three organs are squeezed. At the same time, it’s as though they are getting clawed into. The intense burning pain makes me clench my eyes shut and cry out in pain—but I cannot move an inch of my body in self-defense.
『Live.』
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A noise that resembles a siren wailing continuously jerks me awake. It is hard to distinguish my surroundings at first due to it being pitch black. A brief, but intense red light illuminates the room every couple seconds, which is likely from the overhead emergency light. A million intangible thoughts are being processed all at once as I blink rapidly. Am I… am I back on the Yilan?Still stuck in a paralyzed spell, I can only afford to process my limited line of sight.
No, I never left. Unless…?
I can make out the cold, metallic floor that I face down on. Ahead of me is the line of metal shutters that cover the windows—the furthest one from me has a few cracks on it. Yes… that’s right, if I remember correctly, theYilan was rammed… rammed by the…
—It abruptly occurs to me that I have not been breathing. I immediately flip myself onto my back using my shoulders and force myself to manually breath. My chest rises and falls with each intense gasp for air and I clutch my chest and neck in a vain attempt to keep my breathing stabilized.
Live. Live and reject this false future. The words of the bizarre voice echoes at the back of my mind. Just… what was that phenomenon? That river of glitter, an older Friederika, and her daughter, and…
Buttermilch. Although I did not see him, I somehow knew that was Buttermilch right away. Buttermilch…
I use all my strength to prop myself up with my arms. I’ve been lightheaded this whole time, but it wasn’t truly apparent until now. I groan as I give my head a massage. The siren certainly does not help, either. And speaking of which, what happened while I was unconscious? Or whatever it was that happened to me for that matter…
“All hands to battle…stations… this is… NOT … A DRILL!” Over and over a masculine announcer blares over the speakers. But it’s difficult to make out because of the overbearing siren drowning it out.
The Jaguar.
Almost at once, a wave of fear washes over me like a fierce tidal wave. The Madame Scarface caught us off by complete surprise. And now we’re going to pay the price of ignorance. We’re all going to die because of incompetent leadership. But… I survived where others have died—if only momentarily. But it will make no difference… soon enough, the Scarface’sforces will board the Yilan and either kill us all or take us prisoner. And people taken captive by the Madame are said to never be seen again—in the rare cases they are given the chance to surrender without a fear of no quarters.
But there’s still a chance. We can get through this—we can still salvage this operation and save lives! We will get home alive! Although my body is still horribly trembling, I attempt to lift myself—
And get thrown back, landing on my back. A loud, metallic moan can be heard outside the Yilan— but it’s not against our ship. Could another ship have rammed against the Jaguar? Whatever the case, I just need to find Buttermilch so we can formulate a plan…
Buttermilch—did he get thrown out? I didn’t see him after the bridge windows were shattered… did he manage to brace himself? Did he die from oxygen deprivation? No… it would take a lot more to take out an old guard like Buttermilch. There’s no way he would have perished. It would be a cruel world if he lived and I died. He’s the only one capable of getting us out of this mess.
I try to call out to others, but I can’t materialize anything. Only a tiny whisper that I can barely hear over the screaming siren. I try a couple more times—and nothing. I’m trembling too hard to even muster a voice. It’s just not feasible. Each time I try to call out—the siren and announcer only exemplify.
Left with no other choice, I push myself up and am greeted by a curtain of darkness. If I can’t call out to others, then I will look for survivors myself. Right as I attempt to get on my feet, the emergency light basks the room with a bright red luminance. And my mind goes blank.
Buttermilch can’t die.
There’s no way Buttermilch can die.
Buttermilch promised me we would all make it out alive.
Karma works in strange ways. The voice of Buttermilch rings violently in my mind. History tends to play out peculiar when a certain actor is on stage.
And yet I am left to wonder: is this, too, karma? Or is this simply fate?
A long, blue rod with red substance dripping from a sharp end protrudes from the upper chest of a certain senior officer, A certain man who I, and hundreds of others, have put our trust into. The officer that was a by-the-book hard-ass. A man with intent to prevent any more catastrophe—a man who spent years toiling away to avoid another Jaguar from happening. A man who, in his eyes, was naive, and wholeheartedly believed he could put an end to incompetence in the Admiralty. A man who looked over me at the behest of my ailing father. The man I hoped would get us out of this mess, one way or another. The one man capable of preventing Operation Lucky Alphonse from turning Unlucky.
[https://i.imgur.com/EYujNpm.jpg]
“Commander… Buttermilch?” I utter with horror.