Gahn and the small remainders of his troops and crew had just arrived at the gateway on the far side of the planet when they witnessed the disaster that had transpired.

  He watched as the battle unfolded, as the endless fields of debris that sparkled and glittered in the void spread further and further out, enveloping the entire space.

  He watched as desperate shots were fired out at the gateway in a self-destructive attempt to prevent their crossing.

  He watched as the final blow collapsed and imploded the entire structure, and before they made their final retreat back to the other side, they caught a glimpse of the cascading collapse of each interconnected system and the ripping of the planet.

  And then, in the next moment, it was all gone, the distance between them ever widening. Shooting through the gateway past thousands of light years each passing moment, they watched as the scene behind them disappeared further and further into a reddened and empty darkness, catching a glimpse of their gateway’s final collapse before it vanished altogether.

  For the next several hours, they are to be alone with themselves, stewing in the quiet stillness of superliminal transit.

  Gahn could barely hold himself together much longer, clutching at his hair as though in a feeble attempt to keep some rebellious strands from liberating themselves from his head.

  He wondered what he was to do. Over half of the men under his charge had ended up deserting him for Zviedal at the last second. Suddenly because of the magnitude of such an action, he found himself in distress and at odds with his own self. The doubt lingered, marinating his mind into a choking stew. A single deserter might have been enough, maybe even two or three. But a large majority of his men and women? That amount? It made him wonder, what if he did indeed make the wrong decision? What if his decision is indeed morally at odds enough with them that warrants such a reaction?

  Ironically, even in spite of being in the presence of the part that remained loyal to him, he felt uneasy being with them. Maybe he differed with Zviedal in certain respects, but it remained clear that putting it all aside, for whatever Gahn may struggle to consider living for, Zviedal is committed to dying for, all the way to the end. Through every adversity since the beginning, Zviedal was willing to fight to the last breath to see that he succeeded, while Gahn was trying to pull out at every opportunity.

  By far in spite of his assumptions of Zviedal, the latter turned out to be the far more effective leader, despite not even being an individual of rank. Perhaps there is a bitter irony in it that mocked him; despite having achieved the rank of Admiral, Gahn served in peacetime and had never seen, let alone encountered combat unlike Zviedal.

  The way he felt about the people that remained with him, maybe they will eventually leave him too, somehow. He couldn’t quite articulate the sentiment, yet in some way, he could grasp the feeling that they all thought on a smaller, more immediate level like he did. It made him feel an overwhelming sense of inferiority, inadequacy, and failure.

  The future loomed in front of him like an impassable monolith. Given that he is such an incapable individual, how can he even manage to comprehend how he will handle things once they arrive back? Will it even be possible? Most likely, they will return to World Amrita, and they can attempt contact with an embassy once there. Is there even a region or country left still stable enough for them there, given everything going on? What about what just happened back in Olmona? Surely that will have very noticeable ripple effects. Is that something they can still do safely?

  Even if they could, what would the consequences towards them be? As far as anyone knows, they have demonstrated complete abject failure to make any arrest to Zviedal while they could, and containment of the demon designated Subject-0000002.

  Subject-000002. The words didn’t even strike him as much anymore and instead rang dull and hollow, making him further exhausted and disillusioned. The majority of his men and women wouldn’t have deserted to risk their lives if they viewed it all simply as “Subject-000002”. Who can believe that narrative anymore?

  For a moment, he looked around at the remaining men on his ship, monitoring them from the bridge. At that moment, it almost seemed to him that they fit within an archetype. When looking in more deeply, they were all the ones with the more problematic records. Even their personalities, of the ones he had gotten to know more personally, he didn’t even like or get along with; their character and morals don’t align with his. He disliked the manner of which they talked about others, especially towards women, given his devotion to his wife. Those that did align closer to him seemed to have all run off with Zviedal.

  Gahn found himself tempted to throw the ship aside, instantly killing them mid-journey to completely spread their remains across the cosmos. Perhaps they all deserved it, such a fate being the most merciful that could possibly befall them.

  The next moment passed, and he remembered his wife and children. All were still back home in the Myriad Worlds, likely still worried as to where their husband and father had gone. He couldn’t take this away from them, not when he’s a pillar that holds up so much.

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  Ironically, both the choice between living and dying became ridden and contaminated with guilt. Both felt like the wrong decision to make. He felt that he didn’t deserve to live any longer, but killing himself would be to run away and put his beloved into greater suffering, the antithesis to what he was trying to do in the first place. Neither choice appeared acceptable.

  Slowly, the man fell into a trance that met somewhere in the middle, physically beating and scarring himself with the various tools available onboard until he bruised and bled. Nobody watched as he suffered alone, the rest of the troops and crew onboard were either fast asleep or happy and excited for their return home.

  In that moment, he didn’t care that he was essentially torturing his beloved wife’s husband. She would obviously be greatly upset and mortified by this. He didn’t care that he was tormenting the father of his children. Why should he care? He was always a selfish person anyway. A selfish, pathetic, loser, who never could have stood for anything, finally getting exactly what he deserves.

  In a single blinding instant, Gahn finally realized that Vertan was right.

  Not only had he persistently refused to listen to anything that the latter had tried to communicate to him, but he had also likewise persistently committed himself into a life of denial. He wanted so badly to believe that the hard work and life he had built wasn’t predicated on a system of lies and exploitation. He wanted so badly for Vertan to be wrong, to be stupid, to be incompetent, so that his own narrative and worldview could be validated, justified, and proven correct. After all, Gahn had all of the credentials, the rank, the degrees, the prestige, and so on. To be proven wrong by what is essentially a loon who hid somewhere out in the forests of their homeworld would be unfathomably insulting and crushing to him.

  And not only did it turn out as such, it was undeniable that there are far, far bigger and wider factors above them that he could not possibly have blamed Vertan completely for.

  He finally felt the sense that they are in fact living at the very tail end of a very, very long saga of prolonged rot. The diseases that festered and metastasized underneath are at last visible on the surface, and for what Vertan could identify to the core, Gahn could only ever perceive the inconveniences that show up at the top.

  Inevitability arrived early.

  Much sooner than he thought. Somehow, the ideas of such events happening always felt far off in the mind. They might happen a century, or millennia from now. They are in the time of peace and stability, right? Who knew that it could arrive as soon and suddenly as this?

  Gahn gives himself another striking blow. He had long since grown numb to the sting of the pain, but momentarily, he finds himself keeling over, and he steadies himself on a terminal, dripping blood down onto it.

  Looking into his reflection on the screen, he seems himself. A handsome man, he now finds himself scarred, bruised, and bleeding in multiple parts. It seemed to be the least he could do to such a wretched person.

  His face contorted with inner pain. He had just condemned one of the closest people he had to death. Did he make it? Gahn wasn’t so sure. Now, all of a sudden, of all times, Gahn actually found himself hoping that Vertan did make it through to the other side. But who knows. He could have been easily killed in that as well. The regret choked and suffocated him with an intense fervor, and he found himself with a pathetic and quiet whimper, still alone in the room. The tears that fell from his eyes mixed with the blood that dripped elsewhere across him.

  Shoot yourself.

  Shoot yourself.

  Shoot yourself!

  Kill yourself!

  It’s what you deserve!

  Do the universe a favor!

  Gahn just barely pulls himself together, enough so that he doesn’t cave in to these inner thoughts. His time hasn’t come yet. He still has things to do.

  Having expended his last ounce of energy, Gahn found his legs giving way, and he collapsed onto his knees before falling to the floor. The room around him darkened as his consciousness faded away, and for a moment, he found himself back home again.

  *****

  Gahn woke up to the sound of beeping.

  Immediately, his mind grasped that this was a sound typical to those found on systems common across spacefaring vessels. Struggling to bring himself up, his body aching with sharp pains, he finds on the terminal screen that they were about an hour away from arriving in World Amrita.

  Slowly, over the span of half an hour, Gahn brought himself back to his usual, orderly self. He changed out to clean clothes, and wiped down his blood staining the control panels until it was spotless. In time, it was like the incident had never happened, the only evidence now laying in the scars and bruises on his face. Even the ones that wracked the rest of his body remain hidden under gloves, long pants, and a formal jacket.

  It seemed pathetically ironic to him that the only time he could be so scarred as such was to be inauthentically self-inflicted with no honor to it.

  As they approached World Amrita, with passing time, eventually one of the men on board did come in to check upon the bridge, asking about the voyage. Noticing the scars and bruises that Gahn had on his face, he asked as to his wellbeing, only to be left cold with no answer. Hesitantly, the man eventually left Gahn to his devices, returning to his comrades elsewhere.

  At last, the two remaining vessels emerged from the gateway, and they all descended down to the moon below. As ever, the green gas giant shone majestically in the far distance, fields of farming arrays siphoning gaseous resources to Amrita.

  A temporary stop is made back at one of the extragalactal spaceports in orbit above the moon. While having their vessels serviced and refueled, Gahn once more contemplated upon what happened, and what he ought to do next.

  Maybe for now, he can focus on taking them all back to Ulminh, and then take things from there.

  He found himself hoping for things to still be alright back home, as he looked up at a half torn poster of Lym plastered as a symbol onto a cracking wall.