You. Me. The Galaxy (Invite)

[Lucius]

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You. Me. The Galaxy. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zuuObGsB0No)

[Lucius]

Enigmatic Immortal. That is what they called him. The name remains, long after his fall from grace. It stuck, even though fate deposed him as a hero in the eyes of the adoring people. A name carried through history. Long after Raiaera fell to the Blight. Long after Corone sank beneath the sea. Long after Fallien rose as a nation of power...he, and I, and desperation remain.

When war broke out between the Republic of Scara Brae and the Alerarian Pirate Guilds, he was there. A witness to time’s cruel advance. A soldier unlike any other. A fearless, foolhardy, fool. Wherever he went, that lamentable laugh followed. We were neither Agents nor politicians. We simply did our duty, defended our people, and homes. A duty we were happy to die for, until we received orders to occupy Eiskalt 415. It has taken me years to be able to talk about what happened on the planet's surface.

"Do you think you can ever forgive yoursen’?" I asked him nonchalant. There was no use skirting the matter for much longer. We had sat ruminating over whiskey in silence long enough whilst the engines burnt more precious fuel than we could afford.

The interior of my ship was warm and still compared to the turbulent storm cloud that surrounded us. Up in the stratosphere, nobody could overhear us talk of the distant future. In my wingman chair, the immortal took another sip and let out a long, hard sigh. He rolled back his head and stared at the navigation holograms overhead. They glowed Mubarak in the twilight, a colour formed of sulphur, maelstrom, and sunlight. An artist named it after the planet were such phenomenon occurred, some 6 light years away and six thousand years from now.

"I forgive myself now." Jensen, for once in his many, often-short lives sounded every bit sane.

"Now...?" I dared ask.

He dropped his gaze from the overhead machinations and out the foreword windows. He sighed again and traced the ferocious lightning as it tore apart the sky. Rain drops like alike to cannon balls and winds like Haiden thermals continuously tore at the hull. Nature remained eternally ignorant of the war invoking sorrow it pressed on lesser men.

"Remember, it's not me we are here to convince otherwise." I watched as he pointed out into the bleak night and dawned on one conclusion. He was not maudlin for mistakes made, but for our task ahead.

"You don't think that together, we can do anything to put your former self on an ‘igher path?" I had been in this period long enough now to know the wormhole, the end of the galaxy of tomorrow, was down to Jensen. His solutions to problems in the years following his own Eiskalt war misfortunate for his ancestors. His children. His children’s children. If we failed here, then in six thousand years...

“The galaxy will tear itself apart if we don’t so there’s no such thing as failure.” He said, matter-of-fact.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Some time ago in the past~

“You are fostering members of the Cult of Blessed Torture,” Jensen’s voice was bitter, a tempo out matching the wails of the woman in front of him who clung to his belt like the edge of a cliff. “Your son has been found aiding and comforting their ilk, working towards an assassination attempt against the government officials in this area. He will be brought with me and given trial for his crimes.”

“He’s misguided and young, please don’t ruin him for this!”

“He ruined himself when he worked for the Cult.” Jensen’s words were final, and not wholly meant for just the wailing woman. He nodded curtly and three Chaplains stepped towards the house before a crash of breaking glass erupted the moaning. “Look out! Arsonists!”

The small ball had landed on the ground with an explosive conclusion, the dirt and air exploding outwards. Jensen grabbed the woman and turned, feeling heat tickle his back and push him forwards nearly trampling the frightened person in his care. The immortal growled as he turned to face the building, two chaplains on the ground in pain, a third still and not moving. Jensen ran to him, checking his pulse. He had died.

Now Jensen’s throaty growl turned into a snarl as he jumped into action, lurching forwards with daggers spinning into his grip. He roared with anger shouldering the door open, the wooden portal smacking the wall hard enough to break the top of it. He heard footsteps rushing down the hall and in a blink of movement he was already upon the teenaged boy. His two knives dug into his shoulders deeply, a scream of pain escaping his lips as both shoulders were cut just near the joint. He pounced upon the child and gripped his hair, pulling it hard up as Jensen leaned in, his breath hitting the boy’s cheek as he whined.

“You are going to learn what true mother fucking pain feels like, you little shit,” Jensen seethed as he twisted one of the knives. The boy screamed and one of the Chaplains ran in, shouting at Jensen.

“Captain, get off him now!” The man grabbed at Jensen, and the immortal reluctantly tossed his hands in the air, showing he was done. He walked back down the hall as he looked at the mother who cried.

“Please, listen to me! He’s just troubled.”

Jensen ignored her, pushing her aside as he walked towards the cart.

[Lucius]

The ship too and froe in the clouds. Silence within, tumult without. Lucius tried to find the words to break the status quo, but failed. Aria whispered into his ears advice and ruminations, but all he wanted to do, as ever he did, was run, hide, and drink.

“Shall we?”

Jensen turned. He kicked back, dropped his heels onto the foreword console, and shrugged.

“We can talk about right and wrong all day, it doesn't change the fact we’ve got a job to do.” It was to the bone and in the pilot’s usual brunt tone.

Lucius smiled. “Okay.” He began to instigate the ship’s forward thrusters, a complicated process when they hovered thousands of miles above an unstable, unfamiliar world. One false calculation and the storm could whip them violently off course.

“Can you remember if they have encountered us before in the current continuity?”

For Jensen, this was a highbrow question. It left Lucius puzzled. Repeatedly, he had travelled back through the wormhole to Althanas past, and repeatedly, each failure had convoluted what was, is, and what should be. If he remembered correctly, only Sei’s daughter had crossed paths.

“No. But,” he added, for good measure, “If the old you makes a move on either of us, in any capacity, we abort.”

“I think I'd recognise myself,” Jensen retorted flatly. He flicked his knee, as though removing imaginary lint.

A blast of thermal energy rolled away from the ship as the engines began to run concurrent with the commands Lucius hammered into the console with frightening speed. He outplayed their course, accounted for atmospheric variables, and transmitted their mission parameters through the Aria uplink to the battleship Vrotsos thousands of years and thousands of light years from here. It was a simple mission, but the outcome would determine the future.

“You’re fucking ugly in any alternative reality,” Lucius clucked. He sat back in his chair, the curve of the armrest a shield against Jensen’s sideways jab, and pulled on the guiding wheel to bring it into easy reach. With lightning cracking, and goodwill reformed, the vessel descended in a righteous plummet.