She came to visit him every day without fail. Technically, she actually visited him twice, once in the morning just after she awoke and once at night just before she went to bed. The morning visit was generally only a passing greeting; it was just a normal part of her routine. She always came to say 'good morning', she even asked him if he had slept well. He never replied, and after a moment of silence, she would giggle slightly, her hand covering her mouth, and then be about her business.
It was late at night when she really talked to him. She didn't bore him with frivolous details; it was obvious that she had judged each piece of information as to whether or not it was worthy of his attention. Every now and then, she actually said something particularly profound that made him think, something that didn't befit her normal personality as a tyrannical empress. Sometimes he wondered if there really was something beneath the façade, if perhaps there was a softer, more thoughtful side to her usual haughty personality. But the thought typically passed quickly, or he just shoved it to the back of his mind. No. There was no way she could be anything more than what he had already seen. Anyone that had been so horribly cruel not only to him, but his friends and thousands of others like them, shielding a caring, profound persona beneath? No. It simply wasn't logically possible. Yet at times, he couldn't help but wonder.
At first he had no doubt that she didn't really care, that she only went through the motions to trick him into believing that she actually cared for his well being or perhaps to just once say yes to the question she very occasionally asked. Time went by however, and despite how many times he had turned her down, she always came back, as patient as ever, and spoke to him very fondly. Usually he didn't speak much, if at all, but she very occasionally said something that particularly boiled his yellow-hued blood, or asked him something that even he couldn't resist answering, so he would speak.
And, of all circumstances, today just so happened to be one of those days.
It was much later than her usual visit; he had actually started to think that she wouldn't come at all, that she had just given up on him. At the thought, he honestly didn't know whether to feel relieved that he wouldn't have to put up with her presence and ever-persisting questions or, perhaps, deep within his vascular pump, in a way that he would never admit to himself, much less anyone else, that perhaps, just perhaps, he would actually miss her.
But just as his subconscious mind took this into account, a shallow knock rung throughout the room, and she entered quietly. He sighed, whether it was out of annoyance or relief, he couldn't tell. Her eyes slowly wandered to him, and she smiled very, very slightly and moved to stand in front of him.
"Greetings, Helmsman." She whispered. He inwardly cringed at the title. More than anything, he hated that title. "The war council dragged on to tedious lengths. Even you would have found it horrendously boring." She paused, almost as if lost for words. "I've been wondering lately… how long has it been, exactly, since that mutant was executed?" despite the statement's first impression, she had asked it out of honest curiosity, not to be spiteful or cruel. "What do they call him now?...The Sufferer?...What a flippant title."
He practically had to bite down on his tongue to keep himself from yelling accusations. He sighed heavily and answered her.
"I don't even know..." He sighed again, trying to keep his tone even. "And what do you mean by flippant?" he asked. She looked up to him, honestly surprised that he had answered her. She smiled an honest grin before it transformed into her usual demeaning leer.
"Oh, nothing much. I just find it exceedingly strange…" she said as she came closer to him, reaching out to touch his face. He would have moved away from her if he weren't ingrained to the battle ship's mainframe. "He was an outsider. A freak of nature, so to speak. He had no right to exist, why do you think he was abandoned as a grub? Yet you and the others failed to see that. Perhaps due to your lowblood status?..."
At this point, he could no longer stand by idly as his defenseless friend was demoted to nothing by his murderer.
"How dare you?" he exclaimed. "How dare you reduce him to that? He was a visionary! He was the first to see through the ridiculous hemospectrum you and your ancestors have exerted on the rest of us! He gave us courage! And what did he get for it? An agonizing death at your hands. Wait, that's right, you couldn't dirty your own hands with his 'lowly' mutant blood, so you had your underlings do it for you!" he said, his red and blue eyes began to generate bolts of energy.
The Condesce slowly withdrew her hand and frowned slightly. It was rather unfitting for her, he subconsciously noted.
"Feeling lively today, are we?" she inquired. She turned around and walked over to analyze a particularly fascinating mechanism (Well, not really. But she sure acted like it was). "That rage isn't good for the ship's mainframe." She paused and turned to look him in the eyes. "How about we try something different today? You say anything; questions, unrequited grievances, guilt, anything, and I'll listen. I'll answer you to the best of my ability." She said. He was a little shocked at this development, just a tad bit. After a moment of awkward silence, she spoke.
"Go ahead, I don't bite." She said.
"Why?" he asked tentatively.
"Why what?" she quickly returned. He sighed heavily and tried to reiterate.
"Why did you let me live when the others died?"
She sighed, more out of concern than annoyance.
"Oh Psiioniic, must I say it?" she asked, using his real title. She once again turned to observe some mechanism in the distance to her left. "Aside from your incredible psychological abilities, I find you interesting. Fascinating, one might say." She paused and again turned to face him. "Even after all these sweeps, you resist me. You could say I don't really understand." She came closer and again placed her hand on his face.
"I don't owe you an explanation." He said.
"Oh, but I'm afraid you do." She replied promptly. "I understand if you don't feel up to it at the moment. Explaining oneself can be a terribly tedious task, especially to those who don't understand you. I can wait." She said.
He sighed again, the task becoming increasingly more common as the conversation dragged on. He knew how stubborn she could be. He knew she would stand in front of him all night if she had to. He figured that he might as well get it over with now.
"How could you possibly expect me to say anything but no?"
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"After everything you've done. You and the other highbloods have made our lives miserable. Perhaps you realize that my kind is the third lowest in the hemospectrum. We're forced to slave away to further your purposes. If you had any idea what that's like…Belonging to someone else just because their blood is of a different, more 'valuable' hue than yours…No…There's no way you'd ever be able to understand…"
"I see…" she said. "Perhaps that would be a bit…Unfulfilling. Still, though, you forget that that is your fate. It cannot be changed, no matter how much you or I or anyone else wishes for it to…"
"What? Now you're saying you disagree with the hemospectrum?... "
"Psiioniic, I'm not a hypocrite. Don't misunderstand; those of higher blood are destined to rule over the lowbloods. However…It is quite a shame you're a yellow-blood." She finished.
Despite his inquisitive expression, he knew what she was getting at.
"Psionic, this is perhaps the thousandth time I've asked you this, but I'll ask once again. I can free you from the mainframe if only you said one little word. I know it's in your vocabulary, you're an intelligent troll." She paused, almost as though she were just a bit nervous about being rejected again. "If you were my matesprit, there's no way I could be so cruel as to let you continue to suffer here."
"No. Never." He said. She sighed, her composure as true as ever. "After everything you've done? I'd rather die. Actually, death would be nice compared to this."
"Insolent to the end." She sighed haughtily as she turned. "It truly is a shame. You would make a wonderful matesprit, I just know it." She said.
"If you're so dead-set on it, why don't you force me?" he asked. She turned back around to stare at him, small embers burning in her eyes.
"Psiioniic, even I have my limits. You must realize what kind of relationship that would be. No, you can't force something like that. It has to come naturally." A short, somewhat overly-dramatic suspension fell in this general area of her speech. "Let me ask you something, Psiioniic. Tell me, perchance, is there anything you regret? Anything at all?" she asked.
"Nothing. I wouldn't have done it any other way." He quickly replied.
"Really?" she again drew close to him, a very small distance separating them. "You just got through saying that you'd prefer death over your current situation. And you wouldn't be here if you had simply ignored that signless mutant. You've been here for a long time now. You're telling me that you, perhaps the most analytical troll I've ever known, have never once found yourself wandering the possibilities of what could have been if you had made even one different choice? Not even once?" She said, her ice-cold voice dripping venom. He knew there was no point in lying to her, she would see right through it.
"Perhaps…I have wondered about how things would have turned out differently. But, like you said, I've had a lot of time to think. And after weighing the likely outcomes…This is still the path I would have chosen, even if I had known the outcome all those sweeps ago…" he said. The Condesce could only shake her head and stare at him, perhaps with just a bit of remorse or pity.
"You are a fool, Psiioniic. You are among the most intellectually gifted of our race, and yet you are still a fool." She said.
"Maybe I am." He responded bluntly.
"Don't you understand?" she replied irately, barely managing to keep her voice at an even level. "Don't you realize the situation you're in? Doesn't it hurt, knowing that your companions are all long dead? Don't you realize that if you stay in your current situation, you're only due for more unnecessary pain? Doesn't that bother you? Or do lowbloods have higher pain tolerance than us?" she paused, the embers in her eyes developing into flares of pinkish frustration. "Don't you mind? Don't you want to stop hurting?" she asked, her eyes as intense as ever. The Psiioniic closed his eyes momentarily as he mulled over his words of choice. He opened them again when he was ready to speak.
"Of course I do." He finally articulated. "Of course it hurts. And no, I'm fairly certain 'lowbloods' have the same average pain tolerance as your kind."
"Then why?" she asked. He was tempted to say 'why what', but deemed it inappropriate for the situation.
"Why?" he repeated. "I'll tell you why. I chose my path long ago, Condesce. And I plan to see it out to the end. It's only fair…" he paused. "All those sweeps ago, when I first met the Sufferer…We made a pact. We both knew that the road from thereon out would be difficult, that at times it would just be easier to quit. Yet…We couldn't. If the Sufferer's dream was to one day come true, we could never give up. All trolls are equal, and they should live that way. We couldn't back down in the face of adversity, no matter how hopeless or bleak the situation was. He fulfilled his half of the bargain; he saw his path through to the very end. And now, it's my turn to keep our promise…" he finished. The Condesce stood silently, their gazes never unlocking. He could have sworn he saw just a bit of her eyeliner smear, but then again, maybe it was just his exhausted mind playing tricks on him.
"You're a fool, Psiioniic. A damned fool!" she said. He sighed again and leaned forward, placing a very conventional kiss on her cheek. It lasted perhaps a couple of seconds at most.
"I know." He finally said as he saw a new, very unusual emotion surface in her expression. After staring at him for a moment, completely dumbfounded, she turned towards the door and quickly made her way out of the room. He sighed for the final time that night and closed his eyes, hoping to find some rest before the next day's demands exerted his physical and mental capabilities.
The next time she came to see him, she was too late. All that remained was his body, his soul having moved onto another, hopefully better realm.