'And I have seen all that you've seen. And I have been where you've been. No, our hands will never be clean.'
---
Poe stands among a crowd on the surface of an unfamiliar planet. Each man, woman, every member of every race represented appears to be dressed formally, presenting themselves to warrant respect. It must be an important place, but Poe cannot remember if he's visited before. Dimly he realises something is not right. The people around him are clutching at one another, some have hands pressed over their mouths or their eyes tight shut in panic. The ones brave enough to look are all staring upwards, gazing in horror at the sky.
Poe looks up as well. The sky is blood red, raging flames slowly corrode the pale blue and choke the clouds. Something is burning the atmosphere of this planet one layer at a time. It is getting so hot. Instantly his skin is drenched in sweat; he glances down at his hands to see them covered in ash and grimy soot. Terror takes root in his stomach.
On the surface across from the balcony trapping the crowd, trees shudder and burst into flames. One by one, they literally disintegrate. The ground beneath their feet is shaking, huge fissures erupt as the pressure builds. Buildings begin to collapse and the piercing cacophony of screams is endless.
It's so, so hot now – it must be like the inside of a furnace. Red gives way to white and Poe is sure his skin must be blistering. Sobs morph into cries of pain; fabric catches light and the group literally melts into a nightmarish combination of flame and limbs. There is an endless, raging roar deafening him and Poe can do nothing more than helplessly collapse to the floor.
The heat- Oh, the heat- He won't survive for much longer now. The pain is indescribable. He closes his eyes, praying the end will be mercifully quick. The light pierces through his eye lids – whiter than the burning of a sun and Poe-
He cannot help the cry that falls from his mouth as he wakes. The sensation of burning, of his skin melting and the smell- it lingers and pulls at his mind. Poe doesn't want to return to that horror, doesn't want to go back to sleep- but he's so tired and the pull of the dark is just too strong.
It's different now. Poe is perhaps on some sort of space station. He stares out of a huge window into a sea of darkness. Planets, certain large ships glint back. They are standing sentinel in the midst of a system he doesn't immediately recognise.
Poe is still trying to work out where he is when the red beam first explodes from another location on the ship. It is huge, like a grossly engorged laser blast from a weapon. Its range is short at first, but gradually it elongates. Poe can see it ripping apart the surface below – (surface? Does that mean he's not on a ship, but a planet?) – then extending far out into the universe.
The beam separates, each extension locking on to the bigger objects in the system. It is then Poe begins to feel it. A terrible weight settles on his soul, a certainty that thousands – if not millions of people – are about to die and he himself is complicit in murder. He waits and one by one the cries erupt. He can feel the terrible, mortal fear of so many innocents; they are burning and pleading for help.
Poe could have helped them if he'd wanted – could have chosen a different path to avoid this fate. He falls to his knees, overwhelmed by the grief of a power much bigger than him for the wholly unnatural deed that has taken place. He is sobbing, not from sadness at the wastage of such promise, of so much life. Poe is sobbing because he feels nothing, no remorse and no guilt.
There is only an emptiness, a gaping cavity in this soul plugged with a calm reassurance. This destruction is necessary, a step towards a greater goal. Poe cries because he does not understand how a man could not be brought to compassion even when millions beg for mercy.
Somebody is kneeling opposite him. Through bleary eyes, Poe is aware only of blackness. A form is almost discernible, robed in shadow. Two hands, clothed in black leather reach for his own. They are drawn up by the stranger and in this awful red light, they seem covered in blood.
The figure remains crouched, barely moving even as Poe feels his shoulders shuddering. Bowed together in the violent mockery of a sunset, a deep voice asks him in a tone laced with contempt, "Tell me, Commander, do you still think this can be forgiven?"
Outside one of the planets shatters into fragments, the force of the explosion ripples and causes even this massive spaceship to shudder. Where only moments ago screams reverberated through his head, now there is only silence. Poe gazes up at the stranger with haunted dark eyes and remains mute.
Re: FILL: When You Break (Part 5a - Violence)
'And I have seen all that you've seen.
And I have been where you've been.
No, our hands will never be clean.'
---
Poe stands among a crowd on the surface of an unfamiliar planet. Each man, woman, every member of every race represented appears to be dressed formally, presenting themselves to warrant respect. It must be an important place, but Poe cannot remember if he's visited before.
Dimly he realises something is not right. The people around him are clutching at one another, some have hands pressed over their mouths or their eyes tight shut in panic. The ones brave enough to look are all staring upwards, gazing in horror at the sky.
Poe looks up as well. The sky is blood red, raging flames slowly corrode the pale blue and choke the clouds. Something is burning the atmosphere of this planet one layer at a time. It is getting so hot. Instantly his skin is drenched in sweat; he glances down at his hands to see them covered in ash and grimy soot. Terror takes root in his stomach.
On the surface across from the balcony trapping the crowd, trees shudder and burst into flames. One by one, they literally disintegrate. The ground beneath their feet is shaking, huge fissures erupt as the pressure builds. Buildings begin to collapse and the piercing cacophony of screams is endless.
It's so, so hot now – it must be like the inside of a furnace. Red gives way to white and Poe is sure his skin must be blistering. Sobs morph into cries of pain; fabric catches light and the group literally melts into a nightmarish combination of flame and limbs. There is an endless, raging roar deafening him and Poe can do nothing more than helplessly collapse to the floor.
The heat- Oh, the heat- He won't survive for much longer now. The pain is indescribable. He closes his eyes, praying the end will be mercifully quick. The light pierces through his eye lids – whiter than the burning of a sun and Poe-
He cannot help the cry that falls from his mouth as he wakes. The sensation of burning, of his skin melting and the smell- it lingers and pulls at his mind. Poe doesn't want to return to that horror, doesn't want to go back to sleep- but he's so tired and the pull of the dark is just too strong.
It's different now. Poe is perhaps on some sort of space station. He stares out of a huge window into a sea of darkness. Planets, certain large ships glint back. They are standing sentinel in the midst of a system he doesn't immediately recognise.
Poe is still trying to work out where he is when the red beam first explodes from another location on the ship. It is huge, like a grossly engorged laser blast from a weapon. Its range is short at first, but gradually it elongates. Poe can see it ripping apart the surface below – (surface? Does that mean he's not on a ship, but a planet?) – then extending far out into the universe.
The beam separates, each extension locking on to the bigger objects in the system. It is then Poe begins to feel it. A terrible weight settles on his soul, a certainty that thousands – if not millions of people – are about to die and he himself is complicit in murder. He waits and one by one the cries erupt. He can feel the terrible, mortal fear of so many innocents; they are burning and pleading for help.
Poe could have helped them if he'd wanted – could have chosen a different path to avoid this fate. He falls to his knees, overwhelmed by the grief of a power much bigger than him for the wholly unnatural deed that has taken place. He is sobbing, not from sadness at the wastage of such promise, of so much life. Poe is sobbing because he feels nothing, no remorse and no guilt.
There is only an emptiness, a gaping cavity in this soul plugged with a calm reassurance. This destruction is necessary, a step towards a greater goal. Poe cries because he does not understand how a man could not be brought to compassion even when millions beg for mercy.
Somebody is kneeling opposite him. Through bleary eyes, Poe is aware only of blackness. A form is almost discernible, robed in shadow. Two hands, clothed in black leather reach for his own. They are drawn up by the stranger and in this awful red light, they seem covered in blood.
The figure remains crouched, barely moving even as Poe feels his shoulders shuddering. Bowed together in the violent mockery of a sunset, a deep voice asks him in a tone laced with contempt, "Tell me, Commander, do you still think this can be forgiven?"
Outside one of the planets shatters into fragments, the force of the explosion ripples and causes even this massive spaceship to shudder. Where only moments ago screams reverberated through his head, now there is only silence. Poe gazes up at the stranger with haunted dark eyes and remains mute.