Baccria hated her life ever since she was born from that tube. The life they chose for her was a life she did not want. Instead of devoting her time to writing, she was reluctantly following her commander's orders to patrol a village on some savannah-like planet the Empire conquered.
She sighed aloud. I bet this place used to be happy before we took over, she thought. Baccria was sad to see the inhabitants in such misery and squalor …
"Help! Please!" a feminine voice shouted.
Baccria stopped her patrol and looked to see a young Askani woman in tears.
"What's wrong, Miss?" Baccria asked.
"It's my husband," she replied, out of breath. "he no longer is breathing. Please help! You people took the only doctor away from us!"
"Take me to him."
As Baccria followed this stranger, she could not help but feel guilty. It was her fellow Elites that had pillaged this village not too long ago; including taking away people of interest.
Baccria entered the woman's one floored, cobblestone house. There, a man lay lifeless on a bed of hay. He was surrounded by an elderly man and several children.
"Please," the Askani woman pleaded.
"I need some room," Baccria said, slinging her rifle over her shoulder. She immediately went to check for the man's pulse as the family moved away. No pulse. Crap. Baccria began to do chest compressions.
"What condition does he have?" Baccria asked.
"The fever, he has the bad fever!" the woman cried. "It killed my grandmother last month …"
"I'm … sorry," Baccria said. She went into her little medkit, and searched through various liquids and pills. Luckily, the Irken doctors researched this planet's diseases before invasion, and equipped the various soldiers with medicines to cure said diseases. Baccria found the suitable pills, which were enough to cure the most severe of flu, and forced it into the man's mouth. She used her canteen to help him swallow.
"Is he going to be okay?" a child asked.
"I don't know," Baccria checked for a pulse again. Nothing yet. "C'mon, man! Fight back!" she shouted, returning to pressing on his chest. Baccria leaned to the man's nose, and felt …
An exhale.
He was alive.
"Oh, good golly," Baccria sighed, wiping her forehead. "He's breathing on his own now. Here," she handed the wife the bottle of pills. "these can cure almost any common flu, cold, and fever. Use them sparingly. No more than two pills a day, got that?"
"Yes, thank you. Thank you so much."
The elderly Askani grumbled. "Er, thanks for saving my boy."
"You're welcome." Baccria was not used to being thanked for anything. She was more expectant of receiving an evil glare, or a stream of tears. "Stay out of trouble. Especially you little ones; I'm a bit scared of you four." she winked.
The children blankly stared at her.
"Um, I'll be going now. He should recover nicely. Keep him hydrated, too."
"It's a darn shame you're Irken," the elderly man blurted out.
Baccria did not say a word other than, "Come find me if you need help."
Baccria's commander, Kiln, sat across from her at his desk. His eyes had bags under them.
"So, Baccria, wanna tell me what happened to your entire bottle of pills? You should have a good reason for using valuable supplies."
"One of the Askani was dying–he was dead, so I helped. He has that Summer Fever that's been going around the local villages."
"Right, but did you really have to give away an entire bottle?"
"Yes. We took their doctor, and I stand by what I did. Can't we show just a little compassion?"
Kiln folded his arms. "Look, keep this between you and me, but there is nothing I'd like more than to show the Askani some compassion. However, my hands are tied. No one else in the entire planet besides you or I would understand. They'd turn us into mince meat. Just, next time you wanna help, don't help too much. I'll make up an excuse for you, but this is the first and last time I'll do so, okay?"
"… okay. Thank you, sir." Baccria saluted, and left Kiln's office.
The Irken Elite camp was the most luxurious settlement on the planet. Other Irken soldier camps were dotted here or there around the other Askani villages and cities, but the Elites got the best the planet and off-world traders provided. Baccria tried not to indulge in these worldly pleasures due to her beliefs on the war, but she'd give in for a couple of small things: alcohol and writing utensils. She'd made up plenty of excuses for the paper and pens; 'status report' is her go to.
In reality, Baccria used the paper and little notebooks for her poetry and diary, respectively.
The alcohol, well … that was her way of getting to sleep.
I hope they have that scotch again, Baccria thought as she strolled to the marketplace. It was in the center of the camp, with almost a dozen Irkens selling bits and bobs. She came upon a somewhat larger stall with an angry looking, red-eyed Irken man leaning on the counter.
"The usual?" he asked as he noticed Baccria.
"Yes, please."
"Comin' right up," the merchant said, going into the back of the stall.
Baccria bought one bottle a day. She might have been a heavy drinker. Hard not to become one, with her thoughts and job. A job she didn't want. A job she was forced in to by Irken expectations.
"Here ya go. Three silver Amani."
Amani was the standard currency on Askan. Rather than import Irken currency, the conquerors of any planet simply adapted the native currency—unless the race was to be exterminated, of course.
Baccria paid for the booze and went on her merry way back to her small one room house. It was state of the art comfort technology appropriated from the Vortians, the masters of the couch as the Tallest put it; seemingly ignoring all their other more worthwhile contributions to culture and technology. Baccria wished she could read Vortian literature again, but that would most likely never happen. Ah, to be back in time with Skald and—
No. She would not think of his name ever again. It hurt her aching heart too much.
As Baccria entered her home, she kicked off her dusty boots and threw off her military coat. She always, always hated her PAK that dictated her life. The longing to lay on her back for once in her life was strong; what a pipe dream. Baccria had many futile dreams.
So, instead of laying down, she sat at a makeshift writing area. It was an old, wooden chair she picked up for one copper Amani–quite a bargain–and the standard issue desk each Irken soldier got on this poor planet. Baccria pulled out a blue book from the desk drawer, and a valuable Vortian ballpoint pen she saved from the incinerator.
Dear Diary, Day 1836 of Askani occupation.
I helped a husband, father, and son today all in one guy. It must be nice to have a family. Several people to love, and who love you back. I have nobody. Well, I had somebody, but he left before I could tell him how I felt. Irkens aren't supposed to feel love. But I do. And I hate that I do, because it hurts so much.
I wish Kiln could do something about all this. He's next in line for Governor. Governor Jax is a horrible, horrible Irken. He doesn't care at all! He threw soldiers away like it was nothing during the invasion of Askan. Though, I can't say that's a bad thing. Is that horrible of me? Probably, but, those Irken soldiers didn't care at all about the Askani either. Maybe. I don't know. At this point, I'm rambling to myself. Another day, another bottle of scotch. Goodnight, me.
This is an idea for something I find cool: I wanted to include Baccria's story alongside Poe's, so I feel the best way to do that is for small interludes like this one. These do not count as chapters, of course. Just a little "bonus" or something. I don't know. I hope you like Baccria's story as much as I do! I want to say thank you to Data Seeker for your long reviews! They and all the other reviews mean the world to me. I'll try to keep the vulgarity down lol I've a bad habit with that stuff.
Pax Christi
Song of the day: Bing Crosby - Galway Bay
