Nemesis Resurrected

Posted on Nov 24, 2015 @ 2:52pm by Rawyvin Seth
Edited on on Nov 24, 2015 @ 2:52pm

Mission: Civil War

=/\=
“Nemesis Resurrected”
(Con’d from: “Crossroads”)
=/\=

LOCATION: PLANET X4236, UNSPECIFIED SYSTEM, ROMULAN SPACE
STARDATE: [2.1]51124.1255
SCENE: Romulan Prison, Corridor

The wailing klaxons only amplified the confusion brought about by the
strobing red lights as T'Mækh rushed along the corridor. Several
guards were ahead of her, racing to the source of the disturbance.
Prisoners were shouting and banging against the bulkheads, adding to
the general din, assaulting T'Mækh’s senses, giving the moment a
surreal feel to it.

She turned the corner and abruptly came to a halt as she came upon a
ring of guards huddled around an open cell. She shoved passed them
and silenced protests with a furious gleam in her eyes. Breaking into
the center of the ring, she found Lieutenant Vriha bending over a
fallen Guardsman. He glanced up, and then stiffened to attention.
“Senior Commander T'Mækh,” he said stiffly.

She waved away the formality, trying to take in the scene. “What the
hell ha…” she drew up short as a flood of ice entered her veins. The
Romulan’s eyes moved in her head slowly, suddenly registering the
scene before her. This location. The way the guardsman lay. The all
too familiar cell she had frequented so many times over the last few
months.

“How did this happen?” T'Mækh’s voice was calmer than she felt.

Vriha’s eyes darted to the body of the fallen man, and then back. He
licked his lips before replying in a shaky tone… “We don’t… I… this
man is the only witness, and he was dead when I arrived,” he tried to
explain.

The Senior Commander closed her eyes for a moment, as if to steel
herself for something. When she opened her eyes again, Virha was
staring ahead, quaking in terror, while the other guardsmen around
them looked on. Fear was upon all of their features - fear of what
she would do.

*Fools…* she scoffed mentally. *They fear the lash of the whip more
than the consequences of what this may mean.*

She spied something within the cell, and entered it cautiously. It
was dank and unkempt. The dark walls were discolored with various
patches and steaks of reddish-brown – all attesting to the times she
had paid this particular prisoner a visit. A hard, rusted bed frame
lay upturned in a corner of the cell, along with a plastic bucket,
which T’Mækh edged away from, wrinkling her nose in disgust from the
odor that emanated from within. She turned her gaze to the one corner
of the cell that appeared slightly cleaner than the rest of the cell,
if only for the worn shape on the ground that indicated where the
prisoner had slept.

A few loose sheets were lying there, as if flung aside in haste. She
bent down to retrieve the papers, and then began to examine the neat
handwriting upon the sheets. The lettering was tinted with the same
reddish-brown that decorated the walls; here and there, a splotch of
spilled ‘ink’ mixed with the words. She read slowly, translating the
words in her head as she followed the neat scrawl.

-----
“I now realize where I went wrong. I was wrong to ever believe that
there was ever sanity in this world. What is the day without the
night? What is the light without the dark? How can we know goodness
without knowing evil? Theologies teach that we must be moral, that we
must do what is right. But how can there be morality, if there is not
evil? There must be evil in the world. There must be evil. The
darkness must come. Evil must come.

“I saw the light of a dying star, many years ago. It was a terrible
thing to witness its death. The dying sun grew till it filled up the
expanse of its system, swallowing worlds. So many worlds, so much
possibility, so much life, all linked to this sun, consumed in its
light. And then, its spectacular collapse came. It crushed in upon
itself, so heavy with the weight of its spent self. It had spread
light for such a long time – it had powered civilizations. And now,
it had no more light left to give.

“And when the star died, the darkness came. And all that remained was
darkness. Darkness awaits us all. Darkness is eternal; the light is
only temporary. Darkness must always return. Evil must always
return.

“I see the light of a dying Federation, as it has been for many years
now. It is a terrible thing to witness. The Federation expands to
engulf the galaxy, swallowing worlds. So many worlds, so much
possibility, so much life, all linked together, consumed by the light.
The spectacular collapse must come. It will crush in upon itself,
heavy with the weight of its spent life.

“The darkness will return. The darkness is inevitable.

“I have tried hard to be a good person. This is a fact that many, I
am sure, will doubt, but it is a truth, nevertheless. My shame is
that among my many talents, I was not blessed with the talent to do
good in this life. My father sought to beat the demon out of me. He
could not see that I was the demon incarnate. Or perhaps he did. He
is dead now, and I can never ask him if he ever suspected my true
nature.

“There is no good in me, and there is no use pretending. I am evil.
And if I must be evil, then I will be the devil himself. I cannot
suffer those who would do less in my position. I know my mistake now.
I know I was wrong to believe in sanity. To believe in rationality.
I thought that I was to be evil for goodness sake. But evil must be
done for its own sake. The evil is the dark. It is eternal.

“It is the twilight that men dread, for with night comes the horrors.
The sun is about to set, and with it, night must fall. I am the
dark. I am the shadows. I am eternal. I am. I. Am. I should have
died. I did not die. Why? Because shadows never truly die. Shadows
must always return. I am alive. I am death. I am eternal. I am.
I. AM. I will remain. I will never die. I WILL NEVER DIE.

“I have been a fool, for thinking so small. I have been a fool, for
working for those who would seek to direct my fate. I have no fate.
I am my fate. I see the truth, and my eyes are open. The truth has
set me free. I am the shadows. I am eternal. I am become death, the
destroyer of worlds. I was a fool to believe their lies. They lied
to me.

“THEY LIED TO ME!”

------
Several pages followed of frantic repetitions of that line, scrawled
in barely legible handwriting, crisscrossing and overwriting other
lines of the repeated phrase. T’Mækh shuffled among the papers,
trying to see where it would end. The blood that had been used to
write those lines were smudged to illegibility in a few spots, but
“THEY LIED” was omnipresent.

Quite suddenly on one page, the writing snapped back into its calm measure hand.

------
“I know now my mistake. I clung too long to this thing called
‘sanity.’ My actions were that of a rational man. There is no
rationality in the dark. There is no rationality in evil. I am
become death. I have seen the beauty of destruction, and that is the
point. Everything is impermanent, except for the darkness. Darkness
lasts forever.

“Do not blame yourselves, dear jailers, for the storm that will be
reaped. You are to be commended. You have shown me what I truly am.
I have you to thank for this epiphany, as I did so long ago. I cannot
bear the a grudge against you. You have shown me the truth, though
you did not know what you were doing.

“THEY LIED!

“The night must fall. The night must fall. The night must fall.

“A man was at the edge of a river, trying to get across. A scorpion
came along, and asked if he might have a ride along the man’s back to
cross. The man welcomed the scorpion to join him, but when the
scorpion drew close, the man crushed the thing with the sole of his
boot into the dust. Death came for the scorpion; when he saw what the
man had done, he marveled at the brutality of the man. “He had not
provoked you,” said Death. “Yes,” the man said, “but I had to destroy
him before he became a threat to me.” Death acknowledged this as
wisdom, and commended the man for this logic. And then Death took
both the scorpion and the man. “But I crushed the scorpion so that I
might live,” protested the man. Death only laughed. “Do you not
realize, man, that you were doomed from the moment you were born? I
have been waiting for this moment all of you life, and in the light of
your greatest triumph, the darkness must fall for you.”

“Can you not see the beauty of this destruction? It is a beautiful
death. To become death is beautiful. And I have become death. I
cannot die. Madness is a state of true sight. Only the mad can see
life as it truly is. I now know my mistake. I know that I was never
meant to be good. I know that I was meant for greater things. I was
meant for immortality. I was meant for immorality. I am become
death.

“I began this life unable to see. They tried to remove the veil upon
my eyes; but in fixing my sight, they blinded me to the truth.
Darkness is the truth. Only the blind can see it clearly. I will rip
their eyes from their sockets, and squeeze them until they burst in my
fist. This is a kindness, for only then will they know the horror of
the dark. Only then will they know the beauty of the darkness.

“I must be cruel to be kind. To be kind would be cruel. Madness is a
state of true sight. I am Mad. I am free from the constraints that
once bound me. I am free from the chains on my mind, the chains on my
morality, the chains on my spirit. The chains of this body cannot
hold me. They must not hold me. I cannot die. I am death. I will
remain long after this body is gone. I am eternal.

“This is my body. This is my blood. I shed it forth upon the world,
and yet I do not die. Through my blood you are shown the truth. The
truth has set me free.

“THEY LIED TO ME! THEY LIED THEY LIED THEY LIED THEY LIED THEY LIED
THEY The evening desert sands were at peace when the serpent slithered
upon it. He went forth into the night upon the cool sands, seeking to
find quarry for his supper. He came across a turtle, which he passed,
for it was too tough. He came across a fox, which he avoided, for it
would fight back. He came across a mouse, which he killed, for it was
small and defenseless. But he did not eat it, for he knew it would
not be enough to satisfy him. When the sun rose, the snake boiled
upon the warming sands, and he died, having found no food or shelter
from the scorching light. But the spider, whom made his home among
the carcass of the snake, lived, for when the flies came to claim the
body of the snake, they were met with a trap and the deadly venom of
the clever spider.

“Can you not see the truth of this tale? Do you not have eyes to see,
and ears to hear? Death cannot take me, for I am become death. And I
will claim the world. My father was the devil, who sought to beat the
evil from me. But he was blind, for I had become the thing which he
had sought to extinguish. The devil cannot beat death. And so then,
death came for the devil. I am become death. I will remain. I will
endure. I am death. I am. I. Am.

“The devil and the carpenter were…”
-----

The words ended there, blood trailing from the last e across the page,
as if the author had suddenly given up on his manifesto.

T’Mækh folded the pages, pondering the words. She muttered a curse
under her breath. “Crazy bastard,” she finally declared.

“Ma’am?” The Romulan woman turned, and saw Vriha behind her, still
watching her with concern for his own life.

Glancing down at the folded sheets, she tucked them into her belt.
“Turn off that alarm. Clear this scene, and get back to duty,” she
snapped. “And not one word of this in your duty log, do you
understand?”

Vriha’s face was awash with surprise and relief. He started to
stutter a reply, then thought better and stammered out orders to the
nearby guardsmen, who leapt to their task in haste. T’Mækh strode
past them briskly, her thoughts dark as she made her way back to her
office.

=/\=

Scene: T’Mækh’s Office
Time Index: A few hours later

The papers in her belt line were still on her mind hours later as she
worked her way through the day’s report. The incident was notably
absent from the logs, just as she had requested. The report, which
normally held so much attraction for her, today seemed banal, failing
to hold her attention.

“Falsifying an official report is a punishable crime under the
Guard’s Articles of Conduct, if I’m not mistaken.” A voice in the
dark room made her jump up. T’Mækh’s chair clattered to the floor, as
she sank down into a defensive posture, knife at the ready.

Her blood ran cold, for the second time that day. Before her, sitting
calmly, was a Romulan man in plain clothes. His handsome features
were marred only by the sneer on his face. “Put that away before you
hurt yourself, Senior Commander T’Mækh,” the man commanded with quiet
authority.

Slowly, she complied, dropping the knife back into its sheath.
“You’re Tal Shiar,” she commented flatly, her voice betraying no
emotion. He did not react to her pronouncement, but there was no need
to do so. Only an agent of the Tal Shiar would have been able to
infiltrate her office without setting off an alarm. She righted her
chair, but did not sit back down immediately. T’Mækh was still
uncertain as to whether this man was a threat.

“Come now, Commander; if I wanted to kill you, we would not be having
a conversation right now,” the man laughed in what she assumed was a
reassuring manner. She remained standing.

“You’re here about the prisoner,” she said, ignoring his attempts to
put her at ease.

He nodded slowly. “The one you did not report.”

“There is nothing to report.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Indeed?” T’Mækh’s throat went dry then, and
she coughed without replying. There was a long silence before the Tal
Shiar agent spoke again. “Well, Commander, I happen to agree.”

T’Mækh was taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“The Tal Shiar has deemed your actions… prudent, for the time being.”

She could feel her head spinning with sudden relief. “But… the
Federation, shouldn’t we…”

“What does the Federation need to know about our internal affairs?”
The man responded mockingly. “Perhaps we should tell them that we
incarcerated one of their citizens? For the second time, no less?”
He chuckled. “Or perhaps why we did not alert them to the fact that
we knew the criminal was still alive?” She had no response. “No,” he
continued, “Commander, your… oversight… would appear to have been the
right call to make.” His eyes twinkled darkly. “It is why you are
still breathing now.”

T’Mækh sat down then, her legs suddenly feeling shakey. “I… I serve
at the pleasure of the Praetor.”

“Indeed,” he purred. “Consider it your good fortune that it is his
pleasure to let this incident… evolve.”

The Romulan woman tried to collect herself. “So… there will be no
repercussions then?”

“Oh my dear, yes, there will be repercussions,” the Tal Shiar agent
burst out laughing. “But none too badly for the Romulan Star Empire,
I would think,” he mused. “The Federation on the other hand…”

=/\=
Christopher B. Del Gesso
chronicling the story of

Rawyvin Seth