Fanfiction by Rebecca McKenzie

By Rebecca McKenzie, musicboxx@mindspring.com

"Last Request"

    God was dead. There was no God.

    The grim reality echoed within Krelian's mind again and again, combining with the visions of the fierce collision just seconds before to make for a near maddening revelation. His heart was broken, his faith was shattered. They would all live on... Zephyr of Shevat, the brash young Roni Fatima, Lacan that loathsome painter, and he himself, Krelian. Thanks to Sophia, their lives were spared; at the cost of her own ultimate sacrifice. Nothing was left of Nisan, Shevat's gruesome deal was completed. Solaris had won again, even as it's main command ship was lost.
    Now what was the point? All was lost! Their prayers for mercy were cast out to nothing more but the wind. They had lived on, only to see the horrid reality of this failure.
    And even now, Krelian could still see the wreckage of Sophia's great flag ship, flaming and smoking into nothingness as it's shattered parts fell into the ocean far below.
    Solaris' massive attack ship had hit it directly as it carred on it's fatal mission, causing it to ignight with flames by explosion after explosion as its suicidal collision course drove the Nisan Militia's last and greatest ship onward. It did not matter either way. Sophia's sacrificed had save this small group's lives, but thousands more lie dead in the battlefields they had come from. The massive, blinding ferocity the final explosion was not hardly the climax to this awful scene... No, not as Krelian had heard it at least...
    In those last fated moments, a voice broke over the radio recieve still clutched awkwardly by Krelian, even as he stared in disbelief at the scene far above them.
    It was Sophia's voice... Sophia's calling, barely audiable above the cackling of static of distance and explosions combined. In all his pleading for her to stop, to yield,  to let he and the rest die, Krelian had gotten no compliance from the determined pilot of the doomed ship.
    He begged, pleaded, tried to reason in any way until he was left near tears.... "This is what I have to do." Was thr only, distant response from his beloved Sophia, the Holy Mother of Nisan.
    In that final stretch, every cannon of the massive Solarian ship aimed striaght for it, Nisan's great leader literally staring  into the eyes of death from her set place within the otherwise deserted bridge. She would be alone in her death, alone in her sacrifice.
    Krelian had jerked the radio back up upon the very instant her voice broke the silence. This would be her final message, whether words of wisdom, love, or peace.
    All members of the group gathered around him uneasily, putting off the deadly enemy gears in their grim curiosity. Yet, the gears too were still, pilots watching the impending impact from their cockpits in what had to be a mixture of shock, uncertainty, and awe. When at last Sophia's sweet voice broke the silence over the radio, time itself seemed to come to a halt in an instant of silent, rapt attention.
    History would never know those words. Why should it? They meant nothing... Nothing at all save to two men.

    For what she said was far less general... It was personal, directed to not the group it self, or the world, but one single person. The words she uttered over the fading transmission of the radio were far more than enough to freeze Krelian's very blood in their shattering, heart-wrenching impact upon him.
    She hadn't called out to Krelian himself, she hadn't called out to her many faithful followers and loves. She hadn't even called out in an oath to God! Instead, she had called to...

    "Lacan!"

    Of all the people, of all her followers, of all her loved ones, she called to that one simple painter. Krelian hadn't the time to react, nor did any of the others present. All eyes fell upon the figure of the artist, all eyes save Krelian's, whose gaze was fixed upon the radio that faintly spat the final insult to him over a endless droning of crackling and static.
    All feelings of petty jealousy he had ever had for Lacan, regardless of what lessons of tolerance and acceptance Sophia had taught him, were amplified a thousand times over. His blood boiled. His world shattered, his dreams crumbled. All images of Sophia, her charming grace, her loving smile, crumbled as if before his very eyes. Worst of all, his fervent love was snuffed out. She had called to the damned painter!
    Reality came crushing down on him, a force that drove his hopes into the corner of the soul, and made the very ground below seem to melt away. But that wasn't the end of it. Sophia hadn't finished yet.

    "Lacan...! Lacan can you hear me?" The painter stepped forward uncertainly, not believing his own ears even as he relinquished the radio from Krelian's limp hands.

    "S... Sophia...? Elly?" How prefectly demure he sounded, some little lost child humble yet eager to recieve the words of his Mother.

    And 'Elly'... He had called her Elly!! What name was this? Not once, not once in all the years Krelian had spent with her did he come to know that name. Wretched titles of formality always accompanied the name Sophia to him, never anything personal, never anything intimate! God, what had she told him through those endless painting sessions? What had happened? Why must she love HIM?
    Pathetic, undeserving Lacan! Krelian so wanted to tear the radio from the arist's oily hands, thrust it into the sea far below, and let that be the end of it...

    He had loved her damn it! Had she been oblivious the entire time? Did she not see how he fought for her, swore by her name, stayed by her side through all the trials Nisan had faced? Did she not see how his feelings had grown and matured.  How he labored to increase his knowledge, faith, and inner peace, in an effort to prove himself worthy of she and her chosen destiny? Why... Why did she have to call to that damnable artist in her final moments?! A childhood friend she could have barely remembered, whom she had spent time with only during the sessions he spent painting her blasted portrait?! What must all Krelian had ever shared with her be shatted simply by hours on end sitting and staring at Lacan's tired face? Had God sought to mock him in these final, torturous moments? To see his love throw away her life, to hear her call out to another less significant, and to hear him respond with a name he never had the priveledge to know? He wiped the tears from his eyes quickly and suddenly, at least before the others could see and realize...
    And still, Sophia spoke on, even as the ship drew to its fatal mark.

    "Lacan..." Her voice was so distant, the first shots had hit her ship dead on, and the explosions could be heard even more clearly from her transmission. "Lacan, live! No matter what happens, live!"
    A great train of smoke billowed from the last Nisan ship now, the fires of the expolsions only growing larger as the course steadied, even accelerated. The lasers of the Solarian battleship stuck it again and again, but it could not be downed, it could not be stopped. The radio crackled violently throughout the spectacle. And though all of this, Sophia's sudden appearance, the shocked freezing of the enemy forces below, and her own last desperate words to Lacan.... All only in a few seconds, barely a minute or more. To the four gathered far below stood dumbfounded in a trance of both horror and awe. It all lasted a horrible, firey eternity, and to Krelian it was worst and longest of all.
    Now the time had come, the distance had been cleared, and the ship was at its target. The radio's reception was more fizzled and distant than ever, but in that very last moment, the very last second before the great collision was made, Sophia's last utterance of "Live!!" broke through the static and choas. All that followered those desperate words was the indifferent droning of the static. Nothing more.

    That was the last anyone would ever hear of the wise and holy Nisan Mother. The fair and lovely Sophia.

    The ships collided. The slammed together in a humongous, horrid display that would literally end the senseless crusade with a bang. The explosion that resulted was awesome, the destruction absolute. The flash of light was blinding, the sound that followed deafening.
    The Gears assembled below fell back in both fear and shock, their main line of attack was brought down in a blaze of smouldering metal of both it's own hull and Nisan's ship combined. The pieces fell into the sea in a gruesome rain of flaming debris. All shuddered to think of what it caused the people aboard both ships, keeping the grim hope their deaths had been swift and painless in the blasts.
    As the light fadded and the sound resided, the gears towering above turned to one another uncertainly, their communications unheard to the helpless group below.

    The leader of the Solarian Gear forces, a gear sleek and masculine in its build and form, the most powerful among them. With a gesture of the hand, it signaled that withdraw... There was nothing left to bother with, now all the Nisan forces were buried. Solaris had won.
    Queen Zephyr was dead silent the entire time, and as the other three men turned to her, she bowed her head abruptly.

    "It is done..." She whispered sadly. "All we can do now is.... Live on..." She shook her head slowly, realizing she had accidently quoted Sophia in those words.
    "I... I guess so..." For the first time also, Roni Fatima spoke up; though he barely managed to form the simple words.

    None of them had the courage to split off first, none of them knew what to do. The shock was too great.

    Krelian, however, was the first to walk on, to leave the other three staring on in confusion. He knew now, through all his prayers for God to end the madness, to show his devout followers his mercy and protection, what the truth was. God had not answered them, God had not saved them. Every member of the Nisan Sect, man, woman, young and old... was dead, dying, or praying to die for an end their massive suffering. God had not answered them. God was not there to answer. God was dead.
    He turned slowly from the scene of wreckage still bubbling furious even from the sea's depths. The others looked to him uncertainly, he was the very last of Nisan's followers. Perhaps they all expected him to say something so monumentally comforting, something to bring light within the darkness.
    They would get no such words. He refused to give them.

    "There is no God..." Krelian lolled the words off his tongue as if they were acid. He raised his hands high to the heavens as if he hoped to tear the very facade of clouds away. "God is dead!"

    "W...What?" Lacan stepped foward shakily, his eyes red and irritated from the bitter tears that still poured from them. The sentimental weakling, how hard he tried to hide his pain before them. "Krelian, what are you saying?"

    "Don't be a fool." Krelian hissed. "We've all been praying to nothing but thin air... Begging for mercy from nothing! A myth! A LIE! God is dead! You hear me?! DEAD!" He swung his fist wildly in the air, having nothing near him to hit. "Our beloved creator has forsaken us...! This just proves it..."

    "You're talking madness!" Fatima snapped, grabbing Krelian by the arm to restrain him.

    "Who's mad!" Krelian snapped, jerking away violently. "All of Nisan has been crushed, and Sophia has given her life to save us four... for WHAT?!"

    He darted forward, standing in the faces of the three before any of them, himself included, realized.

    "Look at yourselves!" He cried, pointing to all three of them. "What reason do we deserve to be saved?!"

    He pointed to Zephyr, who looked up in despicably innocent surprise. "You made a deal with Solaris did you not... You gave the lives of thousands of Nisan's supporters, all for ONE  WOMAN! And have you seen or heard that woman any through this damned war..."
    Zephyr lowered her head, not wanting to admit the answer. "We have not..."

    He moved on, Roni stood arms crossed, silently defying Krelian's own outrage.

    "You..." He muttered. "Just another vagabond rebel without a cause. Who were you trying to impress through all this? What have you proven?"

    Fatima blinked, the words blindsiding him in their brutal coldness. Lacan, at last, stepped forward, raising his arms to Krelian as if to offer some truce of peace. Krelian sneered at the gesture. After all that had happened, Lacan had the gall to act as if he were unaffected, trying show desperately to push it down, deny it even to his own pathetic soul.

    "Lacan..." Krelian cursed his very name. "Does this show you now, Sophia's death... Her last sweet little words to you? Do you see now?"

    The artist was speechless, his eyes more than explaining his confusion. Krelian smiled wryly, all the feelings of rage and angst he had ever felt were welling up within him, pushing his very sanity to the brink, and leaving his psyche near the point of a total breakdown. He couldn't stop though, it was all so sweet, it had been too long, too long pent up.

    Lacan stared at him still, searching for the proper words. Instead only the inane banter of unknowing ignorance escape his mouth. "Krelian... What... What are you saying?"
    Typical...

    Krelian's look darkened. How he had waited for this moment! To finally say this!

    "Do you see..." He whispered, drawing uncomfortable near to Lacan so that only he could hear the words. "Do you see how truly pathetic you are? How weak and cowardly? What have you done throughout this war? This crusade? This struggle for freedom? Paint?"
    Lacan's dark eyes were fixed on him, still unknowing, still disbelieving. Krelian continued on nonetheless, savoring the anxiety.

    "You knew didn't you..." He whispered. "Knew she would try something like that.... Do you realize what could have happened, if she had only stayed back?"

    Lacan shuddered, physically shuddered. "We would all be dead!"

    "So what!" Krelian snapped, the others definately heard that time. "Sophia would still be alive.... Hope would still be alive!"

    Krelian bent closer to his ear, though Lacan turned away in an effort to shut him out. "Are you happy? Are you happy that you were too weak to do anything? Too weak to see? To weak to know! Too weak to deserve to live?"

    "Stop it..." Lacan hissed, though his was visibly near tears. "Krelian... You've gone mad... You really have."

    "No, I have not. I have seen the truth." He smiled grimly. "Our lives have been wasted. Wasted for a false God, a pointless war, a foolish belief. Will your painting of her show that too? Her warm, trusting smile, giving hope to all her people hence who see it? Oh wait.... That's not what you saw in it, did you? What you saw was how you really were so very..."

    "No! Stop it!!" Lacan cried, pushing him away. The others looked on, not knowing what to do, whether or not to stop them.

    "Sophia knew what she was doing! Sophia would not mislead us. Sophia understood it all!" He lowered his voice, just as Krelian did so only he could hear. Sophia... understood me.

    "Sophia..." Krelian truly did not want to say any more to this. "Sophia was a lovely, wise, caring woman.... She was misled, just like the rest of us... She preeched of a being that no longer existed, prayed to a God that wasn't there to hear. She may have understood you, Lacan... Understood you for the foolish coward you were... Hiding behind that canvas..."

    "And you know as well as I do..." He shivered, clenching his fists tightly. What was he saying? "That She... She died for a cause that meant nothing."

    "Krelian!!" Lacan was held still in shock and disgust. He couldn't lash out, he couldn't turn and run. He onl;y hoped to stop Krelian's horrible, blasphemous ranting. In a way, he got his wish, but he wouldn't get the last word by far.
    There was no more to be said, and Krelian knew what he had to do.

    He turned away abruptly, walking off and away from the group, over the rocky terrain, and numerous corpses strewn about. For a while there was silence, none of the three tried to stop him, tried to drag him back, tried to reason with him. They just stood there, he could feel their eyes upon his back as he went. Perhaps they were bitter for what he said. Perhaps they just didn't care what he did. What did it matter anyway? None of them really mattered. Nothing really matter. What was anything worth now? Their creator dead or gone, abandoning when his creations were in need of his help most? The reality was more crushing than any human being could handle, yet somehow Krelian understood, in the most morbid sense, what this called for.
    Sophia didn't have to die for nothing... He could make her actions, her teachings, all worth while! Make them mean something! He could show the world its forgotten destiny, its final salvation.

    It was then that he stopped, turning back to the group that now stood several yards away from him through the rubble. He didn't really mean to address them,, nor really care to. It would simply just be said... And perhaps somewhere, their misgiving God would hear and know he had a rival from his carelessness.
    Krelian held his arms out, staring at his soiled, scratched hands left tattered and torn from the chaos he'd been freed from so undeservingly.

     He looked up to the heavens, still clouded by the ashen smoke of the explosion. Clenching his firsts tightly, he turned again. This was what he had to do. He had to do for the world what their God could not. He would find a way to end the suffering, end the war, and justify all Sohpia had tought. Humans had been deserted, left blind and struggling in a cruel world they had not solace or escape from.
    This pointless struggle had to end! These naive beliefs must be corrected! The very world itself must be set right!

    There was only one way to do it. Krelian was the only one who saw it, who knew the truth.

    "If God doesn't exist in our world...Then..."

    He grinned, though it was a meaningless expression. What did petty human emotions and feelings mean anyway? He had a new goal, a divine mission.

    "I will create God with my own hands!"

So, what'd ya think? Like it? Hate it? Think I made Krelian out to be too much of a psycho?
Hey, I'm always up for comments; in fact, I love 'em! So don't be shy, tell me! And thanks for taking the time to read all that!