NationStates Jolt Archive

ooc: closely related to this thread (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=330685)

Eurydice has been corrupted, and you know it, Ajax.

“Who’s there? Where am I? Why can’t I see… or feel?”

You’re dead. I thought you’d have enough sense to realize that. Clearly I overestimated your prowess.

“What do you mean I’m dead?”

The last thing you remember Ajax, what is it?

“I was commanding the Vengeance Redeemed. We were attacking the Imperial Guard and trying to restore order to Eurydice. Indus Reyburn’s ship returned fire and crippled my vessel.”

Then what, Admiral?

“Then the Gravitic Drive started to overload. Edgar shouted at the top of his lungs that its destruction was imminent. Then…” Ajax trailed off, his voice too choked to finish.

Yes. You remember now. Your ship’s drive did explode. You died in that explosion, as did the rest of your crew, save a few fortunate souls.

Silence filled the void as Ajax remembered and realized his past. Despite his efforts to come to grips with the situation, understanding became unattainable. Why was he still thinking? He died, why continue to go on? Other questions raced through his mind, but one stuck with him. “You said Eurydice has been corrupted. How so?”

The voice that answered echoed through his mind like each thought Ajax had was a cavern, his consciousness a mazelike labyrinth. He saw only darkness, and the voice seemed much darker. You know as well as I do. You lost the war. Eurydice is now in the hands of Indus Reyburn, a man whose corruptness is equaled only by the Directorate’s. Eurydice is in the hands of these men. Our innocent world is being corrupted by deceitful thought and action.

“I’m dead. What point is there for me to worry about it?” Ajax said with a futile tone. In a sudden flash a man appeared before Ajax, who had himself come into corporeal form. He looked at his hands and his feet. He touched his face. Everything was where it should be. The man before him looked to be around thirty and had black, cropped hair. He wore a Eurydian Highgrace outfit and a derisory smirk that stretched from cheek to cheek. He was a pale man whose face looked more like a finely crafted mask with sunken eyes and unusual, defining features. Still, the face was handsome despite --or because of—its strangeness. Ajax shook his head. “What sort of trickery is this? Am I dead or aren’t I?”

Instead of a resonating voice in his mind, the man spoke. “You are very much dead, Ajax.” The man smiled. “As for your first question… Eurydice is your home, isn’t it? You must worry about it.”

“Of course, but I still don’t see a point to this. A dead man can do nothing for his home.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Ajax,” the man said.

Ajax paused. He inspected his body further. He wore the same uniform he died with. It was as though his body had been perfectly preserved by some strange force the instant before his fiery death. A snapshot of his former existence. “Just who are you anyway?”

“I am nobody. And yet, I’m someone you’ll need to count on in the future.” He continued speaking, anticipating Ajax’s question. “You see, Ajax, you’ve been chosen for a very special task. Eurydice is corrupted, we’ve already established that, correct?” Ajax nodded once. “Well, you must go and correct this error. The gods are not pleased with the course Eurydice is taking. It must be changed.”

“Why me?” Ajax asked.

The man sighed. “So many questions. Because you are the strongest available to us. We need your strength.”

Ajax gave a confused look. “Who’s we? And forgive the questions, I am dead after all.”

The man smiled. “No need to worry. When I say ‘we’, I mean, myself and my master.”

“And who is that?”

“The Crimson King, of course.”

He was surrounded by white light. He even stood on white light, but all Ajax could see was darkness. The man, a servant of the Crimson King, held the smirk across his face with pride. Darkness. All around him Ajax could the Crimson King’s presence. Why hadn’t he noticed it before? Why had he not seen it in the man? The darkness in the man was so obvious now. Ajax took a step back, his voice a whisper. “Why have you brought me here?”

“We’ve already been through this. The Crimson King has chosen you to right the wrongs.”

Ajax shook his head. “No. The Crimson King represents all that is evil. He is the corruptor of innocent souls. He is…”

“Oh shut up,” the man snapped, “We’ve heard all this before a million times, from a million souls. Each time they spoke of our unspeakable acts, our unforgivable atrocities. And each time they too helped us in our cause.”

“What cause is that?” Ajax asked.

“To put it simply, we wish to wrest control of Eurydice back to our hands. It has been gone too long. It’s strayed from the path.”

“You speak lies, corruptor.” Ajax paused. “What is your name? Nightmare? Meleagent? Or are you another one of the Dark Lord’s minions?”

The man stepped toward Ajax, his Highgrace outfit flowing behind him. He walked with a casual air. Within arms length of Ajax, he stopped. “My name doesn’t matter. You will, however, be working with those you named. Meleagent will be at your side when you kill Reyburn.”

“None of this makes any sense. I’m not going to help you, so why are you talking like these things are absolute.”

“Look. Reyburn has destroyed the Royal Navy and is persecuting those who served under you. He is responsible for your death and you don’t seek vengeance?"

Ajax sighed. “I don’t know. Has he really done these things?”

“Of course. We cannot fabricate reality. Watch.” All around Ajax, the white light melted and a series of images took its place. In one, a group of men (obviously soldiers) were standing on a plank, nooses hanging securely from their necks. The image flashed forward, and the men fell through trap doors. The noose tightened and their bodies jerked back violently. Another image showed Royal Navy vessels being dismanteled in large shipyards over Conconi. Larger than the rest was an image of Reyburn presiding over a courtroom, thousands of Royal Navy soldiers below, awaiting judgement.

Ajax closed his eyes. “Take it away. Take it away!” He shuddered, and for a moment he thought the gruesome display would continue. The white light slowly filtered back in, and its warmth filled Ajax. The darkness was gone. “All right… I’ll help you. My brothers can’t be persecuted for my decision.”

The man shook his head. “But it isn’t your fault, Ajax. It’s Reyburn. He’s used the power to imprison Emperor Traiden and institute a dictatorship. There’s nothing this man doesn’t want. Even now he’s preparing his forces to attack the colony worlds. You kill for them, and for the brothers you speak so highly of.”

“Yes,” Ajax said quietly. “You say I must kill Reyburn? Show me how.”

Ajax stood over his son’s bed, the child resting comfortably in it, nestled between a thick comforter and his pillow. Ajax smiled, wiped a tear from his eye, and reached out to touch the boy’s head. His hair was soft as silk. The color of the midday sun --a vibrant gold. Behind his large blue eyelids rested two large, innocent pearls. Ajax knew that if the boy awoke, he could not accomplish his task. So he withdrew his calloused hand, allowing the boy to rest. “Oh, my dear Virgil. Already seven years old. I haven’t been able to see you for so long, and for that I am sorry. You must understand, I do everything for the Republic. You’ll understand in time.”

The knife he’d carried with him since his days in the academy, before his wife, before the Royal Navy, before all of it, now became Ajax’s instrument of rebirth. He pulled it out of its sheath –located behind his Highgrace coat—and inspected it. The knife was an ornamental item; hand carved markings on a gold plated handle the clearest signs. It wasn’t meant for combat, and had never shed blood before since it its construction. He clasped the handle with a firm grip and plunged the knife into his son’s heart. The boy shot up out of bed, eyes wide with the realizition of a sudden, painful fact. At the same time, a sharp, agonizing sting staggered Ajax. He clasped his chest with both hands and fell to his knees. Virgil collapsed back into his bed, the knife protruding out of his stained nightshirt like some awkward third appendage. Ajax writhed on the floor, unable to contain the sheer pain that now coursed its way through his whole body. His screams deafened his own ears, and for a moment he thought both his larynx and his heart would explode out of his chest.

Then, in an instant, the pain ceased. Ajax opened his eyes, looked around, and rose. He stood no longer in the room of his son. He was back in the light, and so was the man. “I’ve done what you asked of me,” Ajax said, feeling disgusted. Sweat still trickled down his cheeks, the pain had almost killed him, or so he thought.

The man smiled. “You gave your son’s life for the Republic. You are a more noble man than I ever thought.”

“That was hardly noble. I feel… so wrong.”

While laughing, the man put an arm around Ajax’s shoulders. “You can’t let it get you down, this is the first step toward a new beginning of sorts. Your son’s death allowed you to live again. Take advantage of this opportunity.” His smile looked genuine, his eyes hopeful.

“Take me to Reyburn. I want to end this. I want peace”