Avery's Rift
Thousands of them. All in uniform.
A sea of faces down there in the darkness, staring up at her. Men and women, all crowded together at the bottom of the pit, their eyes upturned, their expressions blank.
Hello, LieuSarComCorCaptAdmiral.
The jumble of ranks - they had known her by many different titles. Thousands of them. Bluish, ephemeral, looking at her.
She stood on the edge of the cliff face, peering down at them. Wind whipped at her. It felt like a storm coming, but high above. Far up. The air was damp, clammy.
She knew who these soldiers were. They had all been under her command, at one time or another. She had sent every single one of them to their deaths.
“It was war,” she said, simply.
We don’t care, they all said, and so many of them speaking made the rock vibrate with volume. Not anymore. We understand now what a waste it was. We should not have had to die.
“You knew what the risk was. You signed up.”
So did you. Expression blank. Ghosts with corpse-like faces. Why didn’t you die? Why aren't you down here with us?
“I almost did; many, many times. But I was a commanding officer and I wasn’t meant for the front lines.”
You killed us all.
It was true. She’d never shirked from that reality. It may have been enemy bullets, enemy fire, enemy bombs, but these were the ones she sent out into the battle. These were the ones she told to go out there, knowing few if any would come back.
She nodded, once. “Yes. I killed you all.”
Tell us you regret it.
She closed her eyes. “No. It would be a lie. I don’t regret it. I’m sorry you died - I’m sorry humanity still has a need for me, for my talents. I wish we were more evolved. But I don’t regret what I did. If I regretted that sort of thing, I would never have been able to become a Captain, an Admiral. But I was either gifted or cursed with the ability to stand here and look at you and not regret. I’m proud of you. Proud of what you sacrificed. But I don’t regret it.”
There was a stir. A chill. Biting cold as the dead became restless, agitated.
Tell ussss…you…regret it…
It wasn’t a request, or a command. It was a warning. Their faces contorted into masks of anger. They tensed - she could feel the tension, like a coiled spring.
She looked at them and now it was her face that was without expression.
“No.”
They flew at her.
And the thousands she’d sent to die visited their own fate on their commanding officer.
A sea of faces down there in the darkness, staring up at her. Men and women, all crowded together at the bottom of the pit, their eyes upturned, their expressions blank.
Hello, LieuSarComCorCaptAdmiral.
The jumble of ranks - they had known her by many different titles. Thousands of them. Bluish, ephemeral, looking at her.
She stood on the edge of the cliff face, peering down at them. Wind whipped at her. It felt like a storm coming, but high above. Far up. The air was damp, clammy.
She knew who these soldiers were. They had all been under her command, at one time or another. She had sent every single one of them to their deaths.
“It was war,” she said, simply.
We don’t care, they all said, and so many of them speaking made the rock vibrate with volume. Not anymore. We understand now what a waste it was. We should not have had to die.
“You knew what the risk was. You signed up.”
So did you. Expression blank. Ghosts with corpse-like faces. Why didn’t you die? Why aren't you down here with us?
“I almost did; many, many times. But I was a commanding officer and I wasn’t meant for the front lines.”
You killed us all.
It was true. She’d never shirked from that reality. It may have been enemy bullets, enemy fire, enemy bombs, but these were the ones she sent out into the battle. These were the ones she told to go out there, knowing few if any would come back.
She nodded, once. “Yes. I killed you all.”
Tell us you regret it.
She closed her eyes. “No. It would be a lie. I don’t regret it. I’m sorry you died - I’m sorry humanity still has a need for me, for my talents. I wish we were more evolved. But I don’t regret what I did. If I regretted that sort of thing, I would never have been able to become a Captain, an Admiral. But I was either gifted or cursed with the ability to stand here and look at you and not regret. I’m proud of you. Proud of what you sacrificed. But I don’t regret it.”
There was a stir. A chill. Biting cold as the dead became restless, agitated.
Tell ussss…you…regret it…
It wasn’t a request, or a command. It was a warning. Their faces contorted into masks of anger. They tensed - she could feel the tension, like a coiled spring.
She looked at them and now it was her face that was without expression.
“No.”
They flew at her.
And the thousands she’d sent to die visited their own fate on their commanding officer.