by James Peters
Based upon the evidence found and testimony of his comrades, I finally declared that Raka had sacrificed himself to protect Earth and should forever be remembered as Earth’s protector and hero. I theorized that none from Earth will ever know the sacrifice he made to protect that barbarian world.
Chapter 42
Marco Polo
Personal Auto-journal entry for Agent M; 26 Juanes, 3rd cycle of Klout, 11248 G.E.S.
After the events on the Theono, and the explosion of the shuttle The Black Swan, I felt a sense of debt to Raka, Gina, and their friends back on Earth. It took calling in all the favors I could and threatening to leave the cause, but I convinced Pythagoras to allow me an indulgence of taking Doctor Sorren with me back there to the planet that had become my home.
We found Gina first, and with the help of the Verbalizer, I told her that Raka would not be coming back. My heart shattered like a crystal glass flung to a concrete floor as she cried out his name, falling to her knees, sobbing incoherently. I explained how we searched for him, but we believed he had sacrificed himself in an effort to protect her and all of Earth, and that he would forever be remembered as a hero.
It took some time for her to calm down, but I she finally agreed to allow Doctor Sorren to treat her. He injected her with a syringe of nanobots to destroy the cancer attacking her frail body. I stayed with her for a few weeks until absolutely certain the treatment worked. During that time, I also had the doctor look at Mumblin’ Moe’s tongue, and after a quick procedure, Moe talked fine, although oddly with a British accent. The Doctor said these things happen some times.
I explained to Gina that I was in communication with people that could help Earth if the “bad people” arrive, and that I would keep an eye on things from a safe spot. I didn’t tell her that I intended to go back to the big house that Nicholai had built as a base. With my knowledge and abilities along with the Verbalizer allowing me to communicate freely, I could set up a nice base of operations.
I still find myself looking toward the night sky, over the fields of poppies and ganja, with the smell of rum cooking, with the faint hope that Raka somehow survived. What I wouldn’t give just to throw up on that man one last time.
The End