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Captain Blueheart - Blades


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((Backsim – before the Carnivale))

((Captain’s Ready Room, USS Atlantis))

::The deep red wood of the desk accentuated both the lethal curves and brilliant metal of the sword. After Tyr’s departure, after John’s congratulatory call, Raj sat there behind the ancient desk, staring silently at the blade for the longest time. How beautiful something so deadly can be. How finite and final.::

((Flashback – 4 years ago, Migrant Colony Medical Camp, Mars))

::Their relationship had been on the verge of collapse for some time now. Raj had continued to water and nourish the wilting relationship obsessively, not realizing that he was in fact drowning it.. drowning them both.::

MATTHEWS: ::gently leading him aside by the elbow:: A word, Raj?

BLUEHEART: Sure, Dylan. ::He tore the surgical mask from his face. His heart sank.::

MATTHEWS: Look, this isn’t working out. We both know it. We both need to move on.

BLUEHEART: Okay. ::He smiled. He surrendered.::

MATTHEWS: You’re hurt, I can see that, but this is for the best. If only….

::It didn’t hurt. He had been numb for several months now.

Late that evening Raj had returned home to his temporary quarters and stripped off all his clothes before stepping into the common shower room. Finding it deserted, he turned on the water to a scalding temperature and stepped under the steaming hot jet. The burn was exquisite. He wasn’t as numb as he had thought himself to be. That had to be a good thing, right, he asked himself rhetorically. Just how numb was he after all? How alive was he? How dead was he?

Back pressed against the wall, he slid down till he was seated under the cascading water, naked, knees drawn up close to his chest. He unclenched his right hand where he had concealed a scalpel he had sneaked out of the infirmary. He stared at the gleaming blade for the longest time, his heart never even picking up pace. How deadly something lifesaving can be. How beautiful something deadly can be. How finite and final.

He wondered how tranquil it would feel to be numb, forever. He wondered how serene it would feel to be oblivious to the universe around him, forever. How finite and final.

The blade felt cold against the skin despite the scalding water.::

“No more let life divide what death can join together” ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley, ‘Adonais’

((Captain’s Ready Room, USS Atlantis))

::Tyr’s sword was just as cold as the blade that caressed the skin of his wrist four years ago. He expected himself to be repulsed by the flashback of that bitter and shameful memory but was surprised, rather, by the lack of that emotion. It was as if he understood, perhaps only now, the intention behind that act, the consequence stemming from it, and the inevitable lesson learned. But.. was that bridge burned? Would a day come when he will have to cross it once more?

He turned away from the blinding gleam bouncing off the weapon and gazed out of the window. Everything was quiet despite all the activity going around the station. It was as if time stood still, in that moment, in that room, on that ship, on that station, in that sector of space. It can never be far enough from the truth – they were all hurtling through space at a dizzying speed, chasing Light. The entire universe was carrying on, like it had since time immemorial, regardless of the deaths and births of galaxies and gnats, empires and eagles. Would the loss of one more life really tip the scale of equilibrium in the universe? Could he, Raj Blueheart, change the direction of the compass? Was he, Raj Blueheart, a God? How did it come to be that one life mattered more than the next?

There on the desk was a sharp blade. Like the scalpel that he had held in a strangely calm and steady hand four years ago, it was a blade that could end a conflict or start a war. A blade that could save a life or end a thousand. Or simply a humble blade that could take one life. Just one life.. The random, cold, unwavering universe will not mind, will not notice, will not care.

He thought about Emerson. He thought about Tyr. He thought about Sheila. They too will eventually carry on when the memories have faded. And when they themselves have faded? Who will remember them? Who will remember us? Certainly not a random, cold, unwavering universe that doesn’t care, that doesn’t love. But when he looked at the sword, he knew the tale from which it was forged. He knew the legacy that was passed on to him. The words, the spirit, the force within it that was passed to him. It was fundamentally the essence of a tale, HIS tale, of a lifetime ago. There, in the metal and sheen, the intricate patterns and curves, was an epic tale in which he had played a very important role.

And so it hit him. Stories. We don’t leave behind our memories as we have come to believe. We leave behind our stories. Stories everywhere, in galaxies and gnats, in empires and eagles, in swords and scalpels. Stories of love and tragedy. Stories of pain and joy. Stories to build civilizations and reach for the stars. Stories that will last an eternity. Suddenly it occurred to him that the universe wasn’t as random and cold and uncaring as he had assumed. It was in fact an entangled yarn of countless lives all a part of a greater tapestry, and each string was a story that will forever change the pattern, itself a pattern that is constantly changing, constantly evolving. It was an unfinished masterpiece.

And his tale was only just beginning.::

El amor es mi espada..

END

==========================================

Captain Raj Blueheart

Commanding Officer

USS Atlantis

NCC-74682

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