Entry 11: Concerning Vengeance

It was out of pure goodness of her heart that one of the nurses who operated on me, Major Kamra, gave me a veil. She explained that a long time ago, the women of her culture had to wear them. She gave it to me, and taught me how to use it. Strapping it around my face, I was not yet done.

I checked myself out of the hospital, and I found out where I was. We were out of our Solar system. One an instillation in the next solar system over. They called it, “La Mancha.”

Using my new rank, I gained access to the computers. I activated them, and started doing my research. That’s where the true work of revenge is done. I found we had six outlying stations, and each one was building another.

That meant soon we would have twelve. But I needed to know where the Xarax swarms were. There was still one over Earth, the moon, and there was still one over Mars. Almost like they were multiplying before they would move on. We were too far away from Mars to launch a counterattack.

But we needed to defend the instillations. From the reports, these Xarax climbed into the cracks in the hull, and entered however they had to. This meant we needed a shield.

If I couldn’t attack these things, then I could propose something that could stop them from killing us.

I immediately headed for the Major-Commander of this vessel. I was taken without an appointment. His name was Major-Commander Xin-Yu Fay. I entered and I bowed to him, he smiled at me and clapped, “Sergeant Amelia Cartwright, I see you’re doing well, all things considered.”

I responded, “Not really, Major Commander. I am here to request a shielding system for our vessels.”

“We do not have that technology,” He responded.

“Yes we do. I was reading that on Earth there was a man who was working on making a system to shield earth from the meteor showers that were happening years ago. He was a civilian, but he never got too far: only able to make small scale shields.” He paused for a second before saying, “What are you suggesting?”

“That I take a ship back to Earth, find these plans, and come back.”

“What ship?”

“A Rim-Runner. Or, The Rim-Runner, I know its on this instillation.”

Entry 10: Concerning what Jacob did when he saw my scars.

When his hand tugged gently down, and I released the blanket, he gasped at first. He stared, almost as if I was a freak of nature. His lip curled, and his eyes looked for anything to look at but the scars.

He finally settled on my lips. His eyes pleading to stop looking at them, his heart aching for him to speak to me, and his brain telling him to run. But he didn’t, he stared at me, mouth agape.

He reached out, hand unconsciously wanting to touch them. When he finger met the first scar I winced, it was still raw. He withdrew his hand, disgusted, but it went back to seeking. He stood, stared closely.

The tears crawling from my ducts trying to pour onto my face. He leaned up and kissed me, my greatest fear came alive. I didn’t feel anything. He withdrew. He looked at me, and I looked at him.

It was unspoken. He and I looking at each other: we both didn’t feel the feeling. I wanted to, oh I wanted to. But my lips were nerveless. I only felt the sharp pains that came with pressing against them.

He turned from me. With nothing more then a backwards glance and he left the room. It wasn’t something I knew at the time, but I never saw Jacob again. It was something that I had to expect.

The Xarax were to blame.

But at the moment, I blamed myself, and everything around me. I turned my bed over, and I grabbed the picture off the wall, and I threw it into the door, I jumped over the glass and pulled my mirror and medicine cabinet off of the wall, and I threw it into the wall.

When the nurse first arrived, I had just grabbed the largest shard of glass. I forget what my intentions were to do with that shard of glass, but when that nurse shoved me against the dresser, and the daisy fell in my lap, I laid there, on disheveled articles.

I sobbed. The nurse didn’t know what was going on, but out of decent humanity, she knelt down and said, “It’ll be okay honey, it may not seem like it now but he’s not worth the energy you are spending on him.”

I didn’t hear her. My life was ruined… And the Xarax were to blame.

Entry 9: Concerning finding my crush after the Ithaca was taken.

I was young. Twelve years old, when my mouth was deformed so badly that I didn’t feel comfortable going out in public. I had to, for my own, wellbeing stay in my hospital room and conduct my business from there.

Finding Private Jacob Statler was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do. Passing the test to have them give me my own instillation was nothing compared to calling person after person to get the answer as to whether he died or not.

He had not. The Morgues had no-one matching his description. When I finally was about to give up, there was a knock on my door. I grabbed a blanket and I covered my face quickly, “Come in.”

“Hello Amelia,” he said walking towards me.

“Hello Jacob,” I responded.

He smiled, he held a small, wilting daisy in his hand and he held it out to me. I couldn’t reach and get it, the blanket would fall, “Set it over there please.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I was scared you didn’t make it, but when some of the other men were talking about what you did for them. Then what happened… Can I see your face Amelia?” He asked reaching for the blanket.

“Jacob, no, please… You can’t.”

“Amelia. I’m just thankful you are alive.”

He pulled a chair close to the bed, I looked at him, and I could see what I felt for him, I could see my love against his cheek.

But I couldn’t shake this feeling. This feeling down inside of my stomach, sickening, cold, empty. Something that can’t be described but only felt. Something that I didn’t know the meaning of at that moment.

It was so strong, that I shivered, and I stared at him, eyes looking past the blanket’s top at Jacob. He reached towards me, and he grabbed the edge of the blanket.

“Amelia, let me see.”

I knew in my brain: surface thoughts, emptying into my subconscious, telling me, don’t drop the blanket. But when he pulled gently, and I say the earnest in his eyes, I started to lower the blanket, allowing him to see…

Entry 8: Concerning the scars around my mouth- continued.

I woke to gauze all around my mouth, unable to breath. I had to take a breath through my nose and it was connected to an oxygen machine. I could move, but barely.

I remember the surgical lights of the infirmary room. They were cold and blue, but there was so much heat coming off of them. I was scared and when I tried to scream, it came out as a mumble. My lips burnt. I started to cry in pain just to cause more pain.

The nurse realized I was awake, and she rushed into the room, “Sergeant Cartwright,” she whispered, “Please calm down. You can’t move your lips… I’m going to give you more sedative. When you wake up, you won’t be here. Ithaca has been compromised.”

She took out a needle, and I struggled, but it only lasted until the world went black again. The next time I woke I was in a different room, metallic, cold. I could breath through my mouth, and it was sensitive.

Spikes of weird nerve damage flared with each breath I took. Dead-nerve, trying to feel. I didn’t know that then, but I stood, and I stumbled towards the nearest room. The bathroom, and the mirror had been smeared so it was more opaque and I couldn’t see myself.

I fell on my way out, how long had it been since I used my legs? I opened the door, and when I exited the first person that saw me was a private, and they gasped. I looked down, I remember the blue floral print on the hospital gown, and I remember the look in their eyes as they recoiled from me.

“What?” I choked out. How long had it been since I spoke? The private walked away was quickly as they could. I was looking for the nurse. I couldn’t find one.

I stumbled down the hall, clinging to the walls. When I finally found another person, I looked at them, “Show me a mirror.”

At least it was a private, and he immediately took me to the closest mirror. I looked in quiet disbelief. I ran my fingers over my lips, still sensitive to the touch, the red triangular scars every half and inch. I closed my eyes only for a moment.

I counted them. There were ten, surrounding my lips, except for a small part of my left top lip, and a awkward middle part of my full bottom lip.

I couldn’t stand what I saw, so I screamed. I screamed until my whole body was fatigued, and I collapsed to the floor. My body couldn’t take anymore. I don’t think I’ve eaten anything anytime recently.

The private later told me my scream was the scariest thing he had ever heard in his entire life, and he never wanted to hear anything like it again.