Prelude

On a distant planet many years from now, a soldier’s position is overrun. He dies shortly thereafter in the ensuing maelstrom of death, violence, and magical energies. Commander Goldman is the last soldier aboard a galactic vessel, the last bastion of hope for the neighboring galaxy. The last vestige of humanity in a sector that has long since been overrun by the alien scourge.

Worse, he saw it coming. Commander Goldman was perhaps the only one who knew enough of the potential possible futures to prepare for such an event. This was his twelfth time through this one life he had to live. Each time became a little easier. Each time he had a little more knowledge of the future, of the friends around him. Each time he knew he would be betrayed, this time he hoped would be different. Lucky number twelve, that is what he kept saying to himself. Right until the moment when he realized the reinforcements that were promised failed to arrive in time.

Still despite the overwhelming numbers of the enemies and the lack of supplies and reinforcements the Psionic and Magical prowess Goldman had was almost enough to turn the tides of battle. That was until the first of his ships ran out of ammo, then out of power drive crystals. The fighters, he and his crew, had removed the escape drives, a method to gain just that much more fuel. A way to fight that much longer.

Still without fuel he and his forces were still able to do sizable damage to the enemy forces. First, he would cast Mind Rend on enemy commanders, literally ripping the minds of all sentient species apart. Any that came within his range, which was only a hairs breadth under the normal firing distance of scourge ships. Better still his mental range was well beyond the scourge’s effective range. So massive were the fleets of space locusts that they never practiced firing at a distant target. Instead, they focused on darkening out the voids of space with their ominous presence and devouring everything they encountered.

Ships that were disabled were the first to be consumed.

“AHH!”

“My eyes, they are eating my eyes.” His men cried out over the open channels.

“Why won’t help come? Didn’t the commander promise us aid?”

Commander Goldman had promised his men. “Follow me and I will lead us to victory. This time for sure!” Foolish words of a soon to be forgotten warrior. Forgotten because the commander had one important secret, a secret that no one believed even if he revealed it to the world.

See, Commander Kyle Goldman was immortal, well partially immortal at least. He could never die. Well, he could die, the pain being quite gruesome most of the time. The only problem was that he would never stay dead.

For twelve lifetimes he had tried. Tried and failed.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Each time he was betrayed by someone he cared about. Someone who was important to him. In his second life he was betrayed by his wife, who absconded with his brother. In that life things went so far as his brother passing his own son off as Kyle’s son so Kyle would pay child support. It wasn’t until a few future lives later Kyle realized the truth, that he was sterile. A lot of good that did him, as he knew the secret to get out of the endless death loops. All he needed to do was to pass on this curse of immortality onto his child. That was how he realized how cruel his fate truly was. He was destined to repeat the same life repeatedly, each time he grew more powerful, more knowledgeable of the future. Each time he was able to prepare for the inevitable scourge invasion and eradication of the universe. Only to die once more and start over on his selection day.

A day that was once the most important day of his life. A day he knew would define his future for the rest of his existence. Little did he know that this same day was going to be his own personal nightmare. A day when he would be forced to start over, again and again.

The gods were cruel. They offered him a blessing of his choice on his first time through. They offered him any wish he wanted. His wish was simple, to live forever and be able to constantly improve and get more powerful.

The wish of almost every eighteen-year-old. He knew there was a catch to every wish, something so great that even the epic heroes of the old fables spoke of never tempting fate. They spoke of being happy with the life you had, for it could always get worse. Still Kyle had been proud. He had made the perfect wish, at least that was what he thought at the time.

It was only after his third faithful encounter with death, that he wished for an end to the misery. He wished for a way out. That was when the Gods struck a bargain with him, two curses for two blessings. The first blessing was that if he performed a truly heroic act he would be released from his wish. That heroic act was also linked to his curse. All he had to do was stop the scourge and the loop would end.

When he failed to perform this act, he once again pleaded with the Gods to show mercy. Finally, by the seventh death, they told him of the other clause that had always existed. The clause that if he had a child the curse would automatically be passed onto that child. At the same time the cruel gods showed the child from his first life, the child that was raised by the love of his life and his brother. With that revelation he went into a fit of despair and died before he could even find the scourge.

On the next few lives, he realized the other cruel fate the Gods had for him, he was sterile. Even if he wanted to pass on this cruel fate to another he couldn’t. In the end he only had one chance to end this cycle of death and rebirth. Kill the scourge. Thus, this his twelfth and most recent attempt at being heroic.

He was heroic, anyone who witnessed the attack, despite it being a loss would tell you that Kyle Goldman fought on with grace and poise of a hero of legend. The only problem was, to be a hero, the hero must first live. People must survive to tell the story of their epic deeds. In the end he had lost the battle and his life on the same battlefield.

He was shot down as a wave of black scourges overran his ship, then proceeded to devour them with their unnatural bodies that were able to withstand the rigors of space.

He felt his organs rupture as sharp piercing mandibles dug into his soft flesh under the hard exo-suit he wore. He felt his last breath give way, as he stared off into the rays of a brilliant star that were not the rays of his home planet. Once again, he died alone. Once again, he died betrayed on the battlefield, this time he was the closest he had ever come to victory.

This time he vowed things would change. This time he swore he would never do this again. Never again would he fall victim to the spiteful whims of another. Never again would he feel the fierce bitter sting of betrayal. This he swore with his dying breath. He was done begging the Gods for their cursed favors. Instead, he would take what he had been given and run with it. Being immortal, and sterile all the better, about time he learned to live as a prominent bachelor.

This time he would not wait for his brother to take his wife from him, he would make sure he never settled down. In fact, this time he swore he would steal his own brother’s wife for a change, let him feel the sting of regret and pain. This time, he wished for a do-over, because he would do just that. He would start over and live a hedonistic lifestyle. It didn’t matter, if he lived a terrible life and died never to repeat the loop the all the better. If he lived a hedonistic life and had a do-over anyways then even better as he would at least be able to enjoy his time for once. Twelve lifetimes, a total of one hundred and fifty-three years spent in near constant battles, or training to be in battles. In the end he swore that this time he would live his life for himself.

Unfortunately, fate is almost never so kind. What good is a promise that doesn’t have to be worked for. It is one thing to wish for a hedonistic lifestyle after all, and another thing entirely to take one by force.