The Life, Death and Life of Amelia Hollow

by Edward James Bowman

  ***

  Oh, how naïve I was back then. At first I loved life, seeing the new planets and civilizations, but nobody should live forever. I would hardly even consider it living. Soon every civilization seemed the same, and they all seemed to make the same piteous mistakes that made it impossible for me to like them.

  Amelia’s spirit faded after many years. She held out longer than you would suspect. Almost a thousand years. Then there was me; the ‘heartless bitch’ as she would call me. Earth was not my home planet like it was hers, and I did not yearn to see it like she had. Of course, I did visit Earth on a few occasions. Tak joined me for this. She upstaged me when we arrived. Yes, the very ancient Egyptians thought I was interesting, but the giant bird intrigued them more. They only cared about my existence because I laid down the blueprints for a pyramid.

  I will admit, ancient Earth civilizations did have me curious, but curiosity could not overcome my resentment for the human race. I usually have no care for the internal affairs of primitives. Hell, I did not usually have any care for any affairs, but watching the humans made me disgusted by my roots. I am not sure what makes humans more imprudent: the fact they make such mistakes, or the fact they managed to make the same mistakes over and over again.

  I disconnected myself from the wretched planet for a long time. However, I could not ignore the planet on one occasion. On Earth: the date was September 8th 1966. Many members of the USM who were ‘close’ to me wondered why I got my satellite to pick up the airwaves from Earth, but they did not understand the importance of Star Trek. I had not officially seen the show in billions of years. That show was the foundation of my youth. I do not fully understand why I was so desperate to watch the cheesy show. I believe it was the fragment of Amelia that remained a part of my mind that desperately needed to see the show. After witnessing my cruel tyranny, a part of me needed to go back to something so pure. Without that simple little show, Amelia’s fascination with the universe would have never blossomed and she would not have attended Starside Academy.

  For billions of years I have watched people suffer, and I have made people suffer. There was a reason I was feared and hated. I had written the history of my cruelty in the blood of trillions. I was not mean-spirited; I simply did not care. I met a young Sven and treated him no differently from any other second-class ambassador. There is a possibility I made cry at one point. Even when that imprudent blonde cadet muttered about me in the middle of my ‘welcome cadets’ speech I was not fazed by having my own blue eyes stare back at me. It only reminded me what a fool I had been.

  The cadets of my old grade were pathetic, every last one of them. I could have saved some of them from their deaths on Tamarax Station. Time would not be affected by whether they lived or died, but why would I? They would all be dead in the long run anyways.

  Despite letting him die, I still felt like I owed Kel something. Well… I did not feel as if I owed him anything. It was Amelia who had all the guilt. However, I played along because it would not require much effort on my part. The slow, painful death of Kel’s father was actually rather enjoyable. There are some men in this universe that deserve to go quicker than others. Jaedorra, the intersex bride, and most of the algrin’s wives were saved. Their species was on the verge of extinction, and I would not attempt to save a race as pathetic as theirs. I left it to Kel’s widows to sort out the future of their species. Jaedorra was the light in the dark for them. She gave birth to twins: one girl and one boy. That was how the algrins would have to survive. The mutt children would have to carry on the algrin legacy. Not the sexist polygamy part of algrin culture; the older culture that existed before all that madness.

  Save Tak, Frek and all Destin-Hey monks, no one knew who I used to be before I was Mel. Nobody would want to know my true identity even if they had access to the information. Imagine if Sven learned that his daughter had become the monster he had taught her to hate. If he had known that before Amelia was born he would have cut the life support to the artificial womb. He probably would have gone to the point of castration to prevent my existence. Amelia was dead, and it was for the best. She got to die a hero and would always be remembered fondly. If for some reason I ever vanished the galaxy would rejoice. Sadly, I was never going to vanish magically. I was destined to outlive the universe itself. Trust me, if suicide was optional for an immortal than I would have committed it billions of years ago. Eternal life was a curse, not a blessing. When you know you have an end you cherish the days you are alive. I cherish nothing because I have no end.

  36: Legacy

  Many years have passed for most, but I simply blinked and the years were gone. The USM had changed significantly since the death of the blonde girl who saved the universe. The class system did not have the same power it had had for the billions of years before Amelia had arrived on the scene. Many were happy about the shift, other more conservative first-class citizens were not as happy. Then there was me… and I did not care either way.

  My office was larger than it needed to be. The ceiling went so far up that my entire roof was simply stars. Unlike the rest of Starside, there was little light in this office. Small lights outlined the black runner on the floor that led to the very front of my desk. Besides that, there was one little lamp right on the corner of my desk. I did not need light for any reason. I found it preferable to do work in the darkness.

  Before there was even a ring, I hit the button on my desk that opened the doors at the far end of the room. There he stood: the newest captain in the USM Navy. I had already given the public speech for him and a few others that had reached the high officer rankings. He was just here to collect the symbolic ‘key’ to his new USM Naval spaceship.

  Anyone would recognize this trinard in an instance. He had been in the news for days because he was the last person to see Amelia before she sacrificed herself. He seemed more like a man than an adolescent. His body had become a more masculine shape that made him look less skeleton-thin. One thing had not changed… his impassive expression.

  In all my years I had only learned one significant thing about trinards: they could not feel happiness. No trinard had ever been happy. The trinords had moulded an entire race to face everlasting unhappiness. Yes, truly a pitiful race. It makes you wonder how their race survived while so many others became extinct.

  “Cap Chorst.” I acknowledged him by sitting up properly in my chair as he strode forward.

  “I am here for the key.” He said coldly. He was not trying to be rude, however that was how it came across.

  “Yes.” The drawer in my desk opened. Right on top was the black cube-shaped ‘key’. I found it to be nothing special. Chorst did not think so either, he was only in here getting it because he felt obligated to.

  “Lucky you,” I said while passing him the floating cube with both hands underneath it, “you get one of the newly designed ships. And you are calling your ship…?”

  I knew what it was called. I just wanted to hear him say it.

  “The Amelia.” He said while putting on the Ray-Ban sunglasses he had been give so long ago. I was not thinking about those though, when he put them on. I was watching his other hand that had the black cube hovering above it. Through the body-glove I could not see his robotic hand, yet I knew it was there. He had been given the option to get a replacement hand cloned, yet the trinard was against cloning and chose not to.

  “I’m sure she would have named the ship the same thing.” I joked un-heartedly. He just stared down at me. “You may go now.” I said.

  He treaded out quicker than he had stridden in. Leaning back in my chair, I wondered what he would have thought if I had told him I was the girl he named his spaceship after. Would it tear apart his soul to know the truth? Probably. Luckily, it was not the truth. I was not the girl he named his ship after. I just stole her body and killed her spirit.

  The doors closed with a hissing noise. I was left alone in the darkness again. In the silence I thought. It turned out there was one thi
ng Amelia and I had in common: we were both fond of the impassive trinard’s amethyst eyes.

  About the Author:

  Edward James Bowman was born in San Mateo County, California. He lived in Auckland, New Zealand for five years He currently resides in Portland, Oregon. His pastime is writing science fiction novels.