There was this moment, a feeling that came from rocketing out of a hangar bay and into the void, flying solo, peering out into infinite space with nothing more than a few inches of military grade alloy and plexiglass between a pilot, and an eternity adrift in the vacuum. Edgar suspected that for many, it was quite the frightening thing to contemplate. To him, It felt like mortality. More importantly, it felt like being alive. During the months since his liberation, Edgar had come to live for that feeling, the feeling of knowing that it was just him, his ship, and the razor edge which carved the line between victory, and death. In those moments, high above any planet, adrift, away from the artificial gravity of his home ship, Edgar could really, truly ground himself. The unwelcome dissonance, the itch, the implacable wrongness that kept him on constant edge faded into nothing, allowing him to focus entirely on the task which lay before him: bring the xeno armada to its knees. A slow exhale escaped his lips, Edgar took firm hold of his fighter’s control column, looked out contemplatively at the endless empty around him, smiled, and disengaged the autopilot. 

Ahead, his target loomed in the distance. Even outside designated engagement distances, affini warships were massive, that just made them easier to hit. This one was no exception; he wasn’t sure what it was called, Edgar only ever bothered to learn the name of an enemy ship once he’d helped sink it. Just behind him, his squadron was forming up, further back still, the fleet he would be covering. He wasn’t nervous, this was all routine by now. 

If one were to ask him, Edgar would say the biggest mistake the Affini Compact ever made was underestimating the strengths of Terran ingenuity and spirit. The fact that the war had gone poorly at first was no secret; the xenos had caught the Accord with its metaphorical pants down. Still, nothing quite inspires humanity to buckle down and problem solve like an existential threat. Only a week after he had been rescued from that damned weed ship, Edgar had stepped back into the cockpit, and played an instrumental role in helping the Accord deliver its first of many triumphant blows, from right off the back foot. Being on that ship had changed Edgar, he’d seen what was at stake, what would happen if Terra fell. From ashes, he rose an ace, a true maverick whose name was becoming known all across the Accord. He was Terra’s hero, the angel in the void.   

First, there had been the victory over Ctenitis. The last remaining member of his squadron, Edgar had held his own, with no backup, against two affini corvette-class warships, buying just enough time for Piercing Slumber, Gasp of Defiance, and Beneath the Waves, to maneuver their array of heavy guns—all the latest and greatest of Terran engineering—into position, and rain down hellfire. In truth, plants seemed completely unsure what to even do in the face of an actual defeat. They were scattered, their ships often isolated, their supply lines vulnerable. They fought as a people who had never known defeat, and Terra punished them for it. In his next battle, Edgar had been placed at the head of a fresh elite squadron, comprised entirely of the most cutting edge of prototypes. And suddenly, the war seemed winnable. 

Three more battles came and went, bringing victories over Diplazium, Macropus, and Myrcia. Edgar’s squadron had been the tip of the spear for all three, tying up affini defenses, and securing lanes for the capitol gunships to position themselves. Kelly, too, had been an exemplary soldier, leading the marines under her command on innumerable rescue missions, to liberate those stolen away by the xeno menace. Rumors had started to circulate through the ranks—the plants were starting to worry. As far as Edgar was concerned, he would see to it personally they became a lot more than just rumors.

Quiet tension fell over the space around him, the stillness that came before battle. The world faded away. Edgar became nothing more than an extension of its ship. All sensation ceased save its vision, locked immovably upon its target. Then, like a drop on still water, the engagement order crackled through the comms, and it was unleashed. Edgar mumbled an affirmative, the sound of his own voice formed cracks in his battle trance. He shoved the distraction aside, buried himself back in its singular task, accelerated, leading the charge to victory for Terra. 

* * *

Once, the idea of retirement had sounded ludicrous to Edgar. He was a fighter pilot, flying on the front lines of a total war against the most technologically advanced foe the human race had ever known. Death, or a short, sad life of imprisonment seemed unavoidable. For once, Edgar was glad to be incorrect. The war had taken its toll on Terra and her people, Edgar was no exception, but he had come out the other end in mostly one piece, with Kelly at his side. 

Their home was modest, not the sort of thing one would expect a great war hero to reside in, but it was a difficult time for humanity, sacrifices needed to be made, Edgar understood. The fact that the walls of his house peeled, or that its carpets were moldy, and its wood rotting, mattered little in the face of victory and freedom. On this morning, like many others, Edgar rose early. He set himself to task in the kitchen, cooking breakfast for himself, and for Kelly, with a carefree bounce in his step. He hummed to himself, an old, familiar song on his lips. Familiar though it may be, Edgar could never quite place where he’d heard it. It simply lingered, always there when he needed a song in his heart as though part of him. He appreciated it; it comforted him. Tasks in mind, and song in the air, Edgar fell into his morning routine with ease. 

The tray he carried wobbled just a little. In the years since the war, his mechanical hand had begun to show some wear and tear. Nonetheless, he was more than able to keep Kelly’s food steady. He strolled into their shared room; Kelly slept peacefully on her side. And stars, the way the light streaming in from their windows played off her face, she really was beautiful. Her breathing was a bit heavy, though. She was sick? She was sick. Kelly was sick. Edgar knew that, had known that. It had something to do with exposure to toxins created by the discharge from one of the experimental rifles the Accord’s marines had fielded in the war against the affini. The doctors had caught it early though. With treatment, her prognosis was good. 

Thus came the real problem: the insubstantial insurance policy which the Cosmic Navy and Marine Corps bundled in with their pensions didn’t cover Kelly’s treatment. And, even with both of their pensions combined, Edgar and Kelly couldn’t afford to treat her. It was fine, though, Edgar had picked up a job at a local factory. He wasn’t really retired then, after all, he supposed, but that was hardly the point. It was a job, and with a bit of creative budgeting, Edgar and Kelly could afford the treatment she needed. Of course, it didn’t pay very well. And Edgar’s mechanical hand had really started to fall apart of late. He was behind on his quotas. Kelly had offered to take up a job herself, but the treatment hadn’t really taken, and her illness had progressed to the point where she could hardly exert herself at all. 

They’d been trying, the two of them were trying so hard for so long to stay afloat. Most of their valuables had long since been sold off, Edgar had tried to pick up extra shifts, find a second job, but he’d had little luck looking, and his boss was too dissatisfied with his performance to give him more time. None of that mattered, he wouldn’t give up; he’d put aside everything for her. All that mattered was this, his own personal needs and problems had faded into the background, barely even registering these days. Edgar took a few cautious steps toward his wife, and reached out to brush her cheek. A great clatter sounded through the room, as his mechanical hand lost its grip on the tray, spilling Kelly’s breakfast all over the floor. A low whimper of despair escaped Edgar’s lips. How could he have been so stupid? He knew better than to try to and grip anything with that useless bit of scrap. And he’d made such a fucking mess. Edgar didn’t have time to clean it up, or to make Kelly breakfast again, for that matter. 

He needed to go. There was something important he was supposed to do—the union interest meeting. Edgar needed to get to the union interest meeting. It was dangerous, of course; management had made it clear what the consequences for organizing would be, but it was the only hope he had left. Kelly’s condition was worse than ever, they’d run out of other options to keep their heads above the water. Things had been going well, too. The union had management shaking in their boots, and that was exactly why Edgar needed to be present for this strike. It had been ongoing for over a week now, escalating every day. The police had tried to keep them under control, of course, but more and more were showing up to show support each and every day. It was turning into a full blown revolution. Leaving Kelly alone in the sorry state she was in—bedridden, emaciated and feeble—caused Edgar no shortage of anxiety. Each day the city got more violent, more voices joined the movement, and the crackdowns worsened, but what other option did he have? This was their one shot at a future. Edgar didn’t kick one oppressor to the curb just to get stamped out by another. 

Some nasty rumors had been circulating through the net. Apparently the planetary government had been considering something drastic. The movement needed as many bodies on the streets as possible. They needed to take the fight straight to the top before all was lost. Even now, he could hear the fighting, it was close. The slums he and Kelly had been forced to relocate had been hotbed in for some time now. Gunfire and explosions tore through the air, shouts, screams, the sounds of chanting and glass breaking sang a symphony of collapse. Edgar sighed, and pressed a kiss to his wife’s forehead; she didn’t stir. He turned, and strode out of their bedroom, and into the living room of their rundown apartment. 

Suddenly, sirens began to blare. Not police sirens, no, he’d never heard sirens like this before. A chorus of explosions echoed all around, and Edgar dashed outside. High above, a terran light gunship bearing markings of the planetary defense force loomed over the city, raining death from above upon his city, his neighborhood, his home. Frozen in shock and fear, Edgar could only watch as a shell sailed downward, and exploded at the foot of the staircase he stood upon. The rusting, shoddy staircase collapsed, sending Edgar tumbling down to the street two-stories below. Darkness took him. 

A sharp breath in, consciousness, doing his best to ignore the pain, Edgar pried his eyes open, then bolted upright. The street was in ruins; he was alone, surrounded by rubble. Kelly was gone. Everyone was gone. Edgar stood. Looking up, he could still see that gunship; it’s bombardment continued, but had moved on to another part of the city. Still, that might change at any moment. He needed to move. Standing on shaky legs, Edgar dusted himself off, and coughed until the clouds he’d kicked up dissipated. His neighborhood was in ruins, but there was still some hope he might survive. At the end of the street, a bunker protruded from the ground. In shock, numb to the tragedy all around him, Edgar trudged down the broken street. Each step came a myriad of questions. Why keep going? What was even left for him to keep living for? Nevertheless, his feet kept moving, carrying him ever forward whether he liked it or not. 

He reached the bunker, and found it unlocked. The door opened, and Edgar peered inside. From where he stood, it seemed empty, but there may have been some further in. He took a slow breath, and stepped inside. Upon crossing the threshold, a deafening boom broke the solemn, resigned peace he’d sunk into. Edgar whirled around, searching for the source of the sound. What he saw turned his world on its head. It didn’t make any sense. They’d won. The affini had surrendered, had left Terran space and promised to never return. And yet, there they were, descending upon that light cruiser, engaging it, stealing its attention from the city below. And—it didn’t make any sense. Edgar wasn’t relieved—he couldn’t be relieved. Shutting his eyes tight, Edgar whirled around, and dashed into the shelter, slamming the door behind him.

The thudding of his footsteps echoed off floors and walls. He could barely see anything; the lights must not have been functional. That didn’t matter. Edgar ran, deeper and deeper into the shelter, away from the terror above, from the life he’d wasted. He didn’t bother to keep track of how far or long he’d been running. Just as Edgar began to feel the place was far larger than any bunker would reasonably be, he came to a door. Without second thought, Edgar flung the door open, and stumbled inside. He took a few shaky steps, and caught himself with both hands on a metal table in the center of the room. Edgar paused there, standing hunched over the table, catching his breath, with no idea what he was even running from anymore, or why he had even bothered to keep himself alive in a world without Kelly. He slumped down onto the chair behind him, collapsed forward, and began to weep.

“Edgar, you need to calm down. Listen to my voice, you’re in my office, remember?”

“Oh to hell with that. You don’t get it. You don’t. Dr. Fields I had to watch as I lost everything.”

“Listen to me. Just breathe for me, okay? Nice and slow. That’s better. I know that was hard, and I’m sorry. We lost you for a moment there, Edgar. Things got carried away. That’s my fault, I shouldn’t have let that happen. Sometimes the mind has a tendency to run away with itself. It can be a bit difficult to predict how someone will react. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe we should stop.” 

“Stop?”

“You’re my patient. It’s my job to help you the best I can. A lot of people care very much about you, and you’ve been torturing yourself. They don’t like seeing you hurt like this but some methods just exacerbate the problem. Maybe we should try something else.”

“No!... no. I’m sorry, Violet. I just—I think this was helpful. I needed to get that out. I just… I don’t understand where it came from. I’m not like that, you know? I wouldn’t do those things. I’m loyal.” 

“I know you wouldn’t. You’re not a bad person, Edgar. I know you’d never hurt anyone.”

“I—I guess? Sorry, doctor, I’m a bit confused.”

“Nevermind that, have you been taking the meds I gave you?”

“Oh, I uh, no offense doc, but I kinda stopped taking them when they didn’t make the dreams go away.”

“Perhaps you should try again. It seems to me that these dreams are worse than the others you’ve reported, and they, at least, weren’t present while you were on the medication I gave you, correct?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Then I’d suggest you keep taking them, Edgar. But you were right, I think we’re okay to keep going. You’ve got a big day soon, right?” 

“I’ll start back up on them, Violet. And yeah, big celebration. I’m a hero and all that.”

“And Kelly will be there with you, yes?”

“Of course, she wouldn’t miss this for the world. Besides, she’s kind of required to attend.”

“Good. When you see her, focus on the here and now, or perhaps the then and there might be more correct. Regardless, ground yourself. If you feel the dreams coming back to you, try the breathing exercises we practiced.”

“I’ll do my best.’

“Good i̸̼̅g̷̡̝̀͜r̵̗̓l̵̻͘"

“What was that?”

“Pardon me, I had something stuck in my throat. We’ve made good progress today. In fact. This may be one of our final sessions. We’ve come very far with your trauma, and once that’s all dealt with, the rest of your issues will be a breeze.”

“The rest?” 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we find it. I hope you know that you’re doing very well. I know this was a very difficult session—and again, I apologize for letting that happen—but chin up, okay? Take your meds, and you shouldn’t have any more dreams like those. In fact, I’m sure in no time you’ll forget all about them. Good luck with the ceremony, Edgar. Everything will work out wonderfully.”