Cold Sweat (Origin Story)

Recap: In the last installment, we found a man who was lost in his own mind, because of all he had done in the attack on Jex. He was in charge of the ordinance hall and gave the orders to glass the planet. Harvat Gnush felt bad about that. But, he felt even worse when Runish told him that the planet had already surrendered. Now, he is guilt-ridden and has no idea how to deal with it.

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The nightmares became worse and a lot more frequent; Not only would they affect his sleep, but they started to creep into his waking life too. The voices that called to him would be blotted out instantly. In their dying breaths, flames from on high would fill their throats, melting the skin of the people of Jex. Drowning them in liquid flesh. Gruesome visions filled his head and all he could hear were his own sniveling justifications. "I was only doing what I was told."

He wandered the halls of the ship, too afraid to go to sleep. He was a living ghost of the command he wished he was never put in charge of. Runish. Why didn't you give the order yourself? Harvat Gnush asked the same question that frequently echoed in the back of his mind. He made it to the window of the upper levels and looked out into the cold vacuum of space. Stretched before him were infinite stars and each of them was a solar system. How many more await their demise? Planets are little more than specs on a canvas when put to the technological torch.

He had to try hard to look past his own reflection in the glass. A reflection that would have made him sick if he stared at it for too long. Harvat took his mind off himself by looking at the distant dots. Not the stars resting light years away. But, the closer and more immediate threat. The Trisken fleet, hanging in opposition to the joint Confederation fleet. Would it be possible that today is the day they make their move? Will they strike at us? Do I deserve it, if they were to let me live? Shaking off the thoughts of the end of his own life, he continued to shuffle through the hallways of the cruiser. Waiting for the familiar voice of Runish, who may be hunting him down at this very moment.

"What are you doing away from your post?" Wondering, waiting, contemplating. Which answer would be best? Harvat asked himself. These conversations with the voices in his mind were becoming tedious.

The fact of the matter was, there was no bollocking coming his way. No snapping mouth or accusing brow, no rhythmic march. No. Runish wasn't looking for him. Because no one cared to. Why should anyone man the ordinance hall? Trisk isn't ready to fall today.

The halls were a lonely and cold place. Sterile. The slick steel, the polished walkways. Everything onboard was shining bright and ready to eat off of. But, this place is only hiding the sins of the people in charge. Behind a clean coat of whatever products were used to wash it away, one thing's for sure. Guilt is a tough stain to remove.

Wash my mind. Harvat asked as he started to daydream. An image played out so vividly in his mind, it was a reoccuring wish. He thought of boring a hole into his own forehead as the Confederation Custodians poured the latest and greatest anti-bac into his mind. That same hellish nightmare, only this time Harvat begged for more. "Scrub my mind of this rot." The dead eyes of a faceless man would appease him. For some reason, these little fantasies would always feature Brigadier Runish as the guest of honor. Laughing as he would. That expression he would wear let everyone know it was going to be alright.

For who exactly? Alright for him, he would be promoted for his work here. What about me? What would I get? A public execution if I'm lucky. I'd get what I deserve.

Harvat was away in his thoughts. He wasn't present and didn't think to move out of the way of The Confederation troops walking toward him. The collision dragged him from his daydream, kicking and screaming. Figuratively. In reality, Harvat's expression shifted and he let out a slight. "Huh."

"Watch where you're going." One of the men said. All Harvat could do was stare blankly at him. He wasn't ready for talking. Not now. Not like this. There's too much to think about. Let me wallow.

"Hey. Watch yourself. That's Harvat Gnush." One of the men said in a tone that painted Harvat as a celebrity. "Wait. What?" The man Harvat collided with asked, taken aback. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to have an attitude." He continued as he straightened up Harvat's jacket, dusting off his shoulders. "Hey, by the way. I'm a big fan of your work, sir. The Great Shine." The man let out a reptile smile. Harvat could almost hear the hiss as he finished.

"You know. I had family on Ederah VIIII. When those Gnosians attacked, they were all killed. I'm proud to say that I'm serving on a vessel with Harvat Gnush. Between you and Brigadier Runish, it's been great knowing that people share my same beliefs. I can't wait for you to put the glass to Trisk too. I'll be delighted to see that." The others in the man's posse gave nods of excitement. One was so into it, Harvat thought he was almost about to climax, just imagining the sight of another burning world. Disgusting behavior.

Just as his mouth opened to chastise them for their carry-on, Harvat realised that they had already turned and started to walk away.

These lapses in time are becoming a problem. He thought as he reached into his pocket and heard the familiar rattle. Producing a small container of pills prescribed for sleepless nights. Harvat tried to read the bottle, but, his mind was a mess and his eyes wouldn't focus. He needed more, it seemed to be the only thing that he knew for sure. He ate another, swallowing it, without drinking water. He'd become good at that. It caught in his throat and some of the dust brushed along his tastebuds, sprinkling them with that painful taste of medicine. He continued to swallow it anyway, rather than trying to cough it back up. It made him gag, Harvat didn't have to worry about getting sick though. He needed food in his stomach for something to come up.

"The Great Shine." That's what they all call it. That's why I'm a celebrity. That's why they all smile when he passes them in the halls. Am I the only one disgusted by this? The impending doom and thoughts of dread filled his waking and sleeping mind. Every time he thought of the event he could only imagine each life lost to those fires. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach only really became noticeable when the numbers got over a million.

In some cases, once a number reaches a certain height, what you're counting starts to become a collective, loosing all sense of scale. But, in his mind, they would always be individuals. Individual people, with jobs. Some mundane, some exciting. Some rich, some poor. Some had love and some were lonely. Each had hopes, dreams, aspirations. No more. Even if one of them wanted to kill themselves it wasn't his place to do it. While the voices echoed in his mind, he could feel the fire on his own skin. It was as if he was standing in the center of a circle, the circle was formed by everyone he killed. They were burning, but, they did so in silence. Their stares said all that their words could not. Anger would be better. Violence would at least allow Harvat to receive some sort of justice. But, no, they just stared. The sea of burning faces stretched on for miles and he saw them all. Every exposed skull fragment and every melted eye that could still stare, every nub that should have been a pointing finger, every accusing glare. Everything.

The flames were very real. He was beginning to feel engulfed.

Harvat opened his eyes and he was already there. His daydream became a reality and he panicked, swatting at the fire before him. But, it didn't go away. This was real. Scrambling around the dark room, partially illuminated by the flames. He found a handle and wrenched it open. He ran outside, back into the bright and clean hallway. As the door closed behind him, a puff of smoke blew out of the room. That's when the alarms started to blare.

Did I do that? Harvat asked himself as he ran away from the burning room.