Abner stood at the window used by so few on Mindoir. Gazing out at the few newborns in the incubator, he felt a desire and a responsibility to keep a watchful eye after receiving word from a nurse that his son would soon be placed here. He counted 3, no, 4 children in the bleach white room. All were sound asleep, save for one. A girl, made clear by the pink clothes, was in the far right corner, and had somehow wriggled her way out of her tightly tucked blanket. She waved her small pudgy limbs in the air, just barely raising them above the walls of her protective plastic tub. Her behavior was curious, playful… healthy.
Choking back tears, Abner tightly shut his eyes. It had been 4 days since the birth of his son, and the death of his daughter. She never had a chance to experience anything a young girl should. She never got to see sunlight, play in muddy grass, make friends, have a broken heart, be comforted by the warmth of a loving family. No, she never got the chance to do any of those things. She died before she could draw a single breath of air.
But she led the way for her brother, who had done the impossible and just barely survived by some miracle. Just barely. As soon as he was birthed, he was rushed to intensive care, to be operated upon. To be… lobotomized. Abner knew this would happen, knew about the tumors both children had. But to think of what his son would go through not even a week old, coupled with the death of the boy's sister, was unbearable. Abner hated to let the thought so much as touch his mind, but it could not be helped. Not now at least.
The surgeries ended last night, after 3 torturous days. In that time, the boy was having his surgeries, the girl was being autopsied, and Abner was switching between waiting outside the boy's surgery room and waiting by his wife's side. Hannah, the mother of a dead daughter and an ill son, cried herself to sleep, if she wasn't staring at all the nothingness on the ceiling.
But it would soon be over. Abner would leave the hospital with his new family. They would bury their daughter and mourn for her. Then they would move on, and both he and Hannah would raise their son together.
The thought of the future was slightly uplifting, enough so to smile. Consider it a plan, Abner thought.
Someone nervously coughed behind him. "Sir?" the same person asked in the same nervous tone.
"Hrm?" Abner replied, acknowledging the young man's presence.
He hesitated for a few moments before continuing. "I uh, I have the autopsy report." He gulped.
Abner looked up, finally opening his eyes, and quietly slid his hands into his denim pockets. Taking in a deep, unsteady breath he asked, "May I see it?"
The young man stepped forward to Abner's side. He looked down at the clipboard in his hands, and flipped the first page to the actual report before quietly handing it to the older man.
Abner read it thoroughly for a minute, taking in all the information he needed to know about his daughter and her death. She was 6 pounds, 12 ounces in weight. 17 inches long. Blue eyes. Light brown hair. A smile flashed across his face reading this information, but quickly disappeared as he read on. Astrocytomas of the brain discovered during ultrasound during second trimester. Possibility of development into Glioblastoma in utero considered. Methods for treating tumors in the womb deemed too dangerous to health of the embryo. Astrocytomas developed into Glioblastoma as was possible. Subject died at approximately 2:13 pm before birth.
He read over all the information several times more before closing the report and handing it back to the man in scrubs. "What's your name?" He asked.
The man shifted uncomfortably. "Um, Chu, sir. Arata Chu," he quietly answered.
"Are you a doctor?" Abner asked.
"No sir. I'm an intern," Chu replied. "A private."
Abner nodded, acknowledging the answer. "Private Chu, did you assist in my daughter's autopsy?"
The intern again shifted uncomfortably, again hesitated before answering. "Yes, I did."
"Is there anything you can tell me?"
Chu glanced at Abner. "Sir, all the details are in the report-"
Abner calmly cut him off. "I read the report. I want to know if there's anything that you can tell me," he stated, now looking at the intern.
Private Chu looked into Abner's red, bloodshot eyes and was at a loss for words. This guy just lost his newborn daughter and almost lost his son. How could anyone go on like this? He considered what few options he had, and quickly dismissed them as unfeeling and harsh; instead saying what first came to mind. "She was strong."
Abner looked away, stifling a sob, trying to find something to look at, finally gazing up at the ceiling as a stream of tears slowly flowed down his face.
"What she had," he continued, "most people would have died from it within 2 months if untreated. She fought for nine. Nine months without any treatment, and she fought right to the end. I've never heard of anything like it."
Abner looked down, wiping his face. "And my son? Did you assist with his surgeries?"
Chu looked into the incubator. "No sir. But my friend did. She says that they went with little complications. I hear that he may have to stay in the hospital for a couple weeks for more tests and follow up procedures."
The weeping man looked up, having gotten a hold of himself. Crossing his arms he said, "That's fine. As long as we can leave and not have to worry about the cancer anymore."
"There'll be no need to worry. Your children are fighters."
Abner chuckled. "Just like their mother."
Chu smiled. "Yeah, I've heard of her." He again looked at Abner. "Your son has already beaten the odds once. Now they're in his favor."
A moment later, the door leading into the incubator opened up and a young woman walked through with blue bundle in her arms. She walked to an unoccupied tub and gently placed the bundle inside. Turning heel, she caught Private Chu in her sights and waved at him with a bright smile on her face. Chu returned the gesture before she exited the room.
A few moments passed, and then a small hand rose from the tub, open palmed, as if to say, "Hi."
Abner stepped forward. "Is that him?" he quietly asked.
"Yes," Chu replied confidently.
"He's… he's…" Abner was at a loss for words as fresh tears silently rolled down his cheek.
Chu let the father silently weep for a minute before speaking. "He needs a name."
Abner placed his right hand on the glass window, covering his mouth with his left as he contemplated what his son's permanent label would be. If there is a god, he thought, then he is certainly gracious for letting at least my son to live. But why just my son? If there is a god, then my son was chosen. Why?
"Have you talked with your wife about it?" Chu asked.
"No," Abner replied. But that's alright. I've got the perfect name.
Chu flipped his clipboard to an empty page and readied his pen.
"A name needs to mean something; it should reflect a person's history and shadow their future. But I don't think Hannah will be very fond of Yochanan Mattityahu."
In the incubator, John Mathew Shepard's hand curled into a fist.
In the year 2148 AD, colonial pioneers on Mars discovered artifacts left behind by a long since extinct space faring civilization. The technologies found were quickly realized as the greatest discovery in human history. Mankind now sought to travel to the furthest stars, to establish settlements on worlds claimed for humanity.
It was on one of these new worlds that the savior of galactic civilization was born.
These are Commander Shepard's…
Legendary Origins