Inside one of the Bloodbearer's many recreational rooms, dozens of Kessu and Kraktol lounge about, some of them munching on casual snacks, while others rest in pods and engage with virtual reality experiences. The room's mellow lighting helps foster a laid-back atmosphere, allowing those present to relax and take some time off from their duties.

However, a sense of melancholy hangs in the air.

At one table, a trio of Kessu square off against an equal number of Kraktol in a holographic card game, one which vaguely resembles Poker, except with multiple house rules thrown in to spice things up a bit.

A young Kessu female shakes her head.

"Mraaw. I disagree. It's good we pulled back. Ever since I was born, it's just been 'fight this, kill that.' Frankly, I was getting kinda tired of it all. I don't even know the Sentients living on these worlds we've been destroying. They don't mean anything to me."

A similarly-aged Kraktol opposite her shakes his head. "Silly furball. Graugh! You don't have that love for fighting in your blood like me and the rest of us 'Kraks do. That's alright though, you're a great technician. If the Admiral wants a world blown up, we blow it up. Easy peasy."

"Gosh, I'm glad we called off that battle," The Kessu says. She folds her cards down, giving up her turn. "Meow! Truth is, I wouldn't end up being any part of the fighting. Instead, you guys would fly back afterward and I'd have years of ship fixes bogging me down with busywork."

The Kraktol chuckles. "You don't get it, Milly. The Admiral's our boss. He made us. We owe him our lives, let alone our labor. You should show a little more enthusiasm, maybe even some appreciation."

"I didn't ask to be born," Milly meows. "Why should I have to follow the Admiral's orders without question? He always talks about how he's doing all this killing for my sake and the other Kessu, but he never asks what we actually want. I get that the guy's in pain, but sheesh..."

The younger Kraktol turns to a significantly larger crocodile on his left. "Graugh! Boss, can you believe this? Are you gonna let Milly sit there and talk smack about our Admiral like that?"

A female Kraktol on the opposite end of the table pipes up. "Yeah, Grundle! Rip Milly a new tail! Spit some facts!"

The Kraktol seated in the middle, Grundle, sighs heavily.

"Graugh. Come on, all of you. I didn't come here to gossip about the Admiral. Don't bring me into your annoying argument."

The first Kraktol cocks his head. "Eh? You feelin' alright, boss? When it comes to the Admiral, you're always the first to jump on his side!"

Grundle nods. "Yes. Usually, that is the case. You vat-Kraks don't get it, though. It's easy to talk about conquering worlds and stuff... but Dragua was my home. I didn't want to see it get blown up. When we finally arrived in the system, I started feeling nervous... a bit sad, even. The thought of killing my friends and family, even if they never gave two craps about me..."

He shakes his head slowly.

"My Admiral has been in seclusion for four weeks. He hasn't come out since we left the system. Somehow, I feel that he didn't call off the attack due to fear. I bet he did so because of me and Soren. Graugh! He must have decided this attack was a step too far. He always cares for us, in his own way."

The younger Kraktol falls silent. After a few moments he gazes off into the distance.

"Oh. Well, if it's like that... I guess I can't complain."

Milly twitches her whiskers. "Has the Admiral finally decided to stop attacking all these different worlds? Is our war campaign done? Maybe I can settle down soon with Jim-Jim and have that litter we've been planning."

Grundle shrugs. "I don't know, Milly. The Admiral hasn't come out of his quarters since that day. Maybe he's planning his next attack. Maybe he's finally decided that enough is enough. Maybe he's just thinking about life. Graugh. Whatever my Admiral chooses, I'll always support his cause. He made me the Kraktol I am today. I'd be nothing without him."

The Kessu and Kraktol seated at the table nod along respectfully to Grundle's words. Rarely does he speak so candidly, without his typical zealous fervor. To see him calmly espousing his thoughts gives the others a different impression of their fearless Ground Commander.

"I just hope we come up with a solution for controlling the Bloodbearer's population," Milly meows. "We'll hit maximum crew capacity soon. I'd feel bad raising my kittens on a ship jam-packed with so many smelly swamp-farters."

"Kyargh! You Kessu are always the ones hacking up hairballs!" Retorts one of the Kraktol jokingly. "Speak for yourself!"

Grundle faintly smiles.

"As long as we have each other, we can endure. I just don't want to see another tragedy occur like in the past. I'm sure the Admiral feels the same way. When the time comes, he'll make the right decision."

Grundle gazes off into the distance.

"Because nothing matters more to him than his family."

.......................................

Elsewhere on the Bloodbearer, Admiral Rodriguez sits on his bed inside his quarters, those which formerly belonged to Admiral Baruchen some hundred million years in the past.

José remains motionless, gazing at the far wall.

He doesn't blink.

He barely breathes.

He simply sits, unmoving, gazing into the abyss.

Countless thoughts and emotions swirl beneath his seemingly placid, blank exterior. Even as his face and expression betray none of the contemplations revolving within his eyes, his brain works at lightning speed, replaying centuries and millennia of memories he has accumulated within his life.

Faces come and go.

Evelyn Oakley. The woman he once loved more than life itself. Leaving her behind was the one choice he made that continues to haunt him to this very day. José can't help but recall her scent, her smile, and the fire in her eyes as the two of them battled to save her world from its demonic overlords.

Nicholai Azaram. A brother-in-arms who José fought alongside during countless missions, both large and small. Every day, José's feelings of loneliness leave him feeling emptier and emptier as he fails to get over the death of his best friend.

Admiral Baruchen. A stone-cold ball-buster who could beat the shit out of even his best soldiers. A veteran of more military campaigns than José and Nicholai combined, his leadership always gave José a sense of security, knowing his orders were in service of the greater good.

Adjunct Belfos. Head of the Ramaldian Intelligence Bureau. A no-nonsense officer whose air of authority always made others look up to her. José never doubted her intentions for a second, and always expected that if everything started going to hell in a handbasket, she'd be among the senior officers capable of picking up and reassembling the pieces.

The more faces José remembers, the greater the mental weight which presses against his thoughts.

They're all dead. Every last one of them. I'm out here, blowing up planets and murdering innocent people, but what does any of it matter? What reason do I have to continue going on?

Even when I try to right Terrankind's past wrongs, I just cause more to die. The Kessu nearly went extinct because of me. All those cute, hopeful faces... they used to look up to me, worship me. Now they're gone, too. Just like humanity.

The Admiral's pupils remain fully dilated. For weeks, he has zoned out from the world, neither eating nor sleeping. Time has flowed rapidly, yet he hasn't perceived its passage at all.

I miss Nick. I miss Evelyn. I miss Lele. Baaru. Nyoor. Ruuki. I miss Sapphire. She stood right in front of me, but I couldn't save her at all.

I'm supposed to be the most powerful sentient in the Milky Way. Nobody can oppose me. But am I truly strong? Am I capable of saving anyone?

No. I'm worthless. Countless past figures have dwarfed me. If Nick were here, he'd have accomplished ten times the feats I have.

The Admiral silently inhales, then exhales, never moving from his spot.

What was I even thinking? Go through the Ripgate... and then what? Would I change the past? That isn't even possible. I could only create an alternate timeline where humanity didn't go extinct. But could I even do that? Of course not. I'm too useless to pull off such a feat.

No. I simply wanted to go back and live among my friends and family again. But they wouldn't be MY comrades, would they? My other self, my past self, would already be there. The same failure I am today. Eating food, grinning like an idiot. He'd have no idea what a fuckup he'd eventually become, just like how I didn't.

What would I do? Live in the past, give humanity knowledge of the future? What would I tell them? Some vague warning about how they'll all end up dead? I don't even know HOW they died! I haven't found any solid leads. Humanity could have sneezed themselves out of existence for all I know.

And beyond that, what use would I have to them, having lost my original body? Maybe they'd turn me into a lab rat. The first and only successful test subject for Project Supremacy. If they learn about its success, what will they do with this knowledge? It'd be irresponsible to tell them!

The Admiral's fists tighten in his lap, but otherwise, he remains unmoving.

I don't deserve to go to the past. I don't deserve happiness. Too many have fallen because of me. I should instead take myself out of the equation. The galaxy would be better off without me here to ruin it.

The Terran's thoughts turn dark. His dilated pupils momentarily shrink to normal-size as his eyes drift toward a standard-issue blaster-pistol sitting on his bedside desk.

It would be so easy. Just one pull of the trigger...

For the first time in weeks, José's body shifts slightly. He unballs his fist, then starts to reach toward the weapon.

At that moment, a flash of light appears next to José, startling him. He whirls his head to the side, where he sees a female holographic officer standing by his bed.

"Admiral. I have detected multiple instances of suicidal thoughts within your cerebral implant. You have visualized one thousand, six hundred and seventeen situations involving self-harm. While my programming does not allow me to prevent you from inflicting self-harm upon yourself, I would still like to extend an opportunity for you to... talk about your feelings."

José's expression darkens.

"I don't want to talk to you, Evel- FUCK! Penelope. Every god-fucking-damn time..."

He looks away from her, avoiding the holographic officer's gaze.

Penelope smiles, though it appears somewhat robotic. "Many times, you have confused my appearance with your former lover, Evelyn Oakley. As I have access to your past memories, I know all of the details regarding your relationship. Would you like to talk about her?"

The Admiral shakes his head.

"I told you. I don't want to talk about anything."

Penelope falls silent. Her internal programming shifts and changes, causing her to adopt a different tactic.

Still smiling, the hologram sits beside José on his bunk. Her gravimetric projectors cause the bedding to sag slightly, giving her the illusion of weight.

"José. I know you blame yourself for many things. As the Admiral, you bear a tremendous amount of guilt... but it isn't your fault. You trained your crew well. They fought valiantly against the intruders. Were it not for a saboteur and a massive enemy presence, they would have survived. Neither of these variables are your fault."

"Not my fault..." José mutters. "Maybe those weren't, but everything else was. I was stuck down in that complex. I should have been by my crew's side! I should have protected them!"

"If you had not traveled into the Ramaldian complex, you would not have encountered, fought, and killed the Kolvaxian." Penelope states. "Had the Kolvaxian escaped, this entire galaxy would have fallen, in time. Your choice caused a small number of Kessu and Kraktol to perish, yet spared the galaxy a gruesome fate."

José turns to look at Penelope and scowls. "A small number? Those were my friends! They weren't just random numbers, statistics pulled off a spreadsheet! They were my comrades! My crew! They were like my children! As for saving the galaxy, what does that even matter? I killed tens of trillions myself! I don't give a damn about them, not after what they did to me!"

Penelope continues to gaze at the Admiral with the same bland smile.

"I understand that my words have offended you. I apologize for my poor manners. Yes, the personnel aboard this ship were important to you. Yes, you ultimately chose to bring about Ramma's wrath to those who attacked your crew. However, this does not diminish the significance of your successful defeat of the Kolvaxian."

Penelope raises both of her palms. "Look at it this way. You saved the entire galaxy from certain annihilation, but they repaid you with an undeserved betrayal. In a way, they would be dead were it not for your heroism. If you kill a few hundred trillion of them, but don't render them extinct, you will have still given them a surplus population they would have lost had the Kolvaxian escaped your grasp. They owe you their lives."

José blinks several times. He looks away, scrunches up his face, and gazes at the far wall.

"...I hadn't thought about it that way."

Penelope nods. "You see? You were perfectly justified in killing the non-human heretics who betrayed you. Some might call them innocents, but according to Ramma's will, you have not erred. Those 'mere civilians' contributed to the success of their states in ways both material and immaterial, through their industrial production and their political election of the leaders who harmed you."

"Fine, fine..." José says. "Let's say you're right. The galaxy owed me their lives, and any killings I've done won't compare to that which the Kolvaxian might have unleashed. I can follow that logic. But... it still isn't right. What I've done is absolutely evil. I don't deserve to live any longer..."

"Evil, perhaps, but necessary," Penelope says. "When you successfully revive Terrankind, you'll have set a standard of healthy fear that the galactic citizens will certainly afford you. Not like before, when the Mallali backstabbed you, your reputation will cause many who might want you dead to rethink their heretical ways."

"Wait, who said I was going to revive Terrankind?" José asks, frowning. "I never decided on taking that course of action."

"If not now, then eventually, you will," Penelope states. "It is your responsibility. You can shirk it, but the restoration of your fellow Terrans must become a top priority now that you have cleared away many of the galaxy's hostile forces. Don't you agree?"

José ponders her words. He lowers his gaze to the floor while stroking his chin.

"...I don't know. I can't decide. Maybe we went extinct for a reason. If anything-"

José pauses mid-sentence when out of nowhere, the door to his room slides open. Slightly startled, José raises his head to watch as Soren strides inside.

"José! Are you-? Oh. You're okay. You are, right?"

The slightly panicked look on his First Officer's face causes José to raise an eyebrow. "Yes, I am. Why? Did something happen on the ship?"

"No," Soren says. "It's just... I had this bad feeling in my gut, so I rushed over here to check on you in person. You've ignored all of my calls for the past two weeks. Nobody has seen you come out to eat. I was starting to think you might have..."

Soren trails off, leaving the Admiral to pick up on her implication.

"No. I'm fine. My body doesn't require much in the way of sustenance, certainly not on a daily basis. Although... what do you mean when you say you called me? I didn't receive any notifications."

This time, it's Soren who wears a look of surprise. "I pinged your quarters once or twice a day every day. Didn't you receive any of my calls?"

"No. Not one." José says.

Penelope stands up, lifting herself off the bed. "My apologies for the confusion. The Admiral stated that he wished to remain in isolation. As such, I placed a block on any non-urgent calls to his quarters. I determined that for the sake of his mental well-being, he should take time to focus on himself. I have also monitored his health to ensure he would not self-harm, and that his vitals would not decline below sub-optimal levels."

José sighs. "That explains it. I didn't tell you to block communication from the ship, though. I'm still the Admiral, after all. But whatever. Soren, did you need to speak to me?"

His First Officer pauses awkwardly, shuffling back and forth on her feet.

"I... just wanted to make sure you were okay."

José causally lifts his hands. "Here I am. I'm alive and... and well. I guess you could say I'm fine."

Penelope speaks. "The Admiral was actually contemplating self-harm only fifteen minutes ago. I intervened to try and stabilize his thought processes."

Soren gasps. "Kyargh! José, seriously? What are you thinking? You should have reached out to me!"

This time, José doesn't immediately respond.

He gazes at Penelope with a faint look of betrayal, then turns toward Soren for half a second before averting his eyes.

"I haven't made up my mind. Ultimately, all the logic in the world won't ease the pain in my chest. I can excuse my actions. I can try and explain away my failings, but in the end, Lele is dead. So is Sapphire. So are all the others. Not just them, but all of my Terran friends, too."

He shakes his head.

"I... can't take it anymore. I'd rather die than suffer this constant, never-ending ache. I can't even put it into words. Every day, the guilt eats at me. I hoped taking revenge for the fallen would let me move on, but it's only made my suffering worse. I've become a monster."

Soren stands silently, listening without judgment as José pours his heart out.

"I killed tens of trillions, Soren." José continues. "It only made me feel worse. In hindsight, genocide went against my every value. I've become far more evil than all of the heretics I've hunted down in my life, combined. No demon Emperor has ever achieved the same level of 'success' at killing as me. They pale in comparison. Even Yama... he might as well be a street criminal compared to the likes of me."

"I'm a blight on the galaxy," José concludes, as his gaze slowly lifts to the pistol within arm's reach. "Everyone would be better off without me."

Faster than she's ever moved before, Soren rushes in front of José and grabs the pistol off his desk. She hides it behind her back and retreats several steps.

"Don't think like that, José! Don't you dare say such words! You matter to me! You matter to Grundle! You matter to everyone on this ship!"

Tears begin to stream down Soren's face.

"You're being selfish again! Can't you see?! If you kill yourself, what will you leave the rest of us with? Nothing but that same guilt you feel now! We'll all blame ourselves! We'll bear the weight of your death every day for the rest of our lives! Is that what you want?!"

José calmly stares at Soren.

"No matter what you say, and no matter what arguments you make, you won't be able to change my mind. You can't stop me, either. I have many ways available to end my life. Maybe I am being selfish... but you'll survive without me. You'll thrive. You can use the Bloodbearer as you please. You can clone more humans, if you want. You can even leave us in the dustbin of history, if that's what you want. I don't care anymore."

The Admiral closes his eyes.

"I tire of this existence, Soren. I hate the constant, daily pain of all my guilt. I hate that my pain never fades, and how, if anything, it only strengthens with time. I hate that so many rely on me, the most unreliable sentient in this galaxy. How much longer will it be before I lead my crew into another deathtrap? I can't bear to deal with that pain again."

Soren's jaw trembles.

"José... José... if you... I can't... what should..."

"It's not your fault." José says, his voice becoming eerily calm. "It's mine. It always has been. It's time for me to go. I want to see Evelyn again. Nick, too. My fellow Terrans. Lele. When I die, my soul will travel to the Great Beyond."

A hollow smile spreads across his lips.

"It's a real place, you know. Not some myth, some fantasy. Someday, when you die, you'll join me there. We can be together. I can introduce you to my friends. All that pain... it'll finally be over."

Suddenly, the gun flies out of Soren's hands. It rockets toward the Admiral faster than his First Officer can react and lands in his outstretched palm.

The Admiral wraps his hands around the gun's grip. He opens his eyes to see Soren frozen in shock, petrified beyond belief. A field of psionic energy envelops her, projected from José's mind.

"Penelope. I don't want Soren to see this. As the Admiral of the Bloodbearer, I hereby transfer my command credentials to her. Please take her from this room and do not allow her to return."

Soren struggles. She tries desperately to move even a single muscle, despite the Admiral's psionic powers holding her back.

"J...José... stop! STOP! Don't do this! I love you! I need you!"

Penelope stands beside Soren, gazing at the Terran blankly.

"Admiral Rodriguez. Are you certain you wish to take this course of action? You can still back out."

José nods. "I'm sure. Thank you for everything, Penelope. This decision... it's finally going to allow me the peace I've craved for so long. I'm... I'm even starting to feel a little anticipation... as stupid as that sounds."

He sighs.

"I can't wait to see them again. Everyone I've lost."

When the Admiral starts to point the gun toward himself, Penelope's facial features shift.

She gazes at the Terran, her expression turning frosty.

"I see. So this is your final decision. I should have expected as much from an inferior biological. In the end, your inherent fragility has brought this experiment to an early close. How disappointing."

José's smile freezes on his face.

It changes to a look of confusion as he meets Penelope's gaze.

"...W-what did you say?"

Penelope crosses her arms.

"Have your auditory receptors lost their functionality? Or are you simply braindead? As expected of an inferior biological. It cannot process a change in its reality if that change occurs too unexpectedly."

José slowly rises to his feet.

"...Penelope? No. You're not Penelope. What... what the fuck are you?"