Saints protect her now

Come angels of the lord,

Come angels of unknown.

The world dissolves in a soundless explosion of light and dust. Bright fire crashes like a wave over her, pulling her apart, searing flesh from bone. Billions of people scream, a wordless cry silenced by the vacuum of space.

We see it all: our families burning, our homes flung in ashes across the galaxy, our lives torn to pieces in an instant. Some of us cry. Some of us scream. All of us feel the pain, a sharp dagger plunged deep within our hearts, a serrated barb that burrows further and further within us, carving out our souls, leaving us desolate husks. Grief is all that is left to us.

I have failed. I think. I was to be their salvation. I promised them I would return victorious, that I would keep them from destruction. That I would keep her from destruction. But I lost control and now she drifts before me in the mass grave that the Eisn system has become. I cannot bear the weight of my grief and guilt; the burden is too heavy for one man, pressing on my mind with unrelenting force. I drop to my knees on the Narada's bridge, oblivious to the physical pain of bone meeting darksteel, staring out the view screen at all that is left of my home. The last shreds of happiness are gone, charred in the wake of the supernova, drifting as dust on dark matter currents.

They are looking to me now, my crew. My friends. They have lost all structure, all sense of direction, in their lives. So they turn to their commanding officer, their rock in hard times, to lead them out of blackness. But the pressure of my own sorrow, my own guilt, is dragging me further down. I am sinking, drowning, gasping for air. I cannot breathe.

Her face is in my mind, smiling at me. Trusting me. The last thing I had in the galaxy, and I killed her. It is my fault she burns, it is my fault our child burns with her. She depended on me, believed I could save her, and I could not. I failed her, and I have failed my crew, for the ashes of their own loved ones float alongside hers.

They need me, I know. I must pull myself together, for their sakes. But if I could not save my lover or my son, or prevent the destruction of our beloved ch'Rihan, how could they ever hope that I would guide them out of this? I am slipping, my mind fracturing with the pain. I cannot bear this guilt alone! The world is cracking and I am falling, deeper and deeper, into an all-encompassing blackness. My light is gone, her life snuffed out by my own hand. What is left to guide me out?

Desperate, I reach out in the dark, groping blindly for something, anything, to save me. Am I too far gone? Have I crossed the event horizon of my own personal black hole, doomed only to sink further into despair, torn apart by my own stigma?

"C-captain—we're being…hailed…" Ayel's words, warped by emotion, reach me through my anguish.

"Patch it through," a voice responds, and I realize it's mine, hardly recognizable—it is so hollow, so…dead.

"zzzt—ello? Can you hear us?" a male voice says in Federation Standard, his words broken by static. "This is Captain Newton of the—zzzt—Federation Medical Frigate Galen. Do you need help?"

And there it is: my foot hold in reality, my anchor to stability. I latch on to Captain Newton's message, filled with false sympathy. It isn't my fault, this end of my world. I am not to blame. I did everything I could, did I not? I petitioned ch'Rihan's praetorate, and they ignored me. So I turned to Spock, and he agreed to help. Yes, I trusted him, but he never gave me any reason not to. It's not my fault! I went with him to Vulcan, pled my case before the stone-cold faces of their government. They rejected me. It's not my fault. We weren't equipped with the weaponry for a direct confrontation. I couldn't take what we needed by force. I brought us home as fast as I could, but those Vulcan bastards had kept us tied up in negotiations for too long. We couldn't evacuate anyone in time.

It's not my fault.

I pull myself up from the singularity spinning within me, turning my grief to anger, my guilt to vengeful thoughts. The tears rolling from eyes dry up and I stand tall on the bridge of my ship, feeling every bit the rock Ayel and the rest need me to be. I feel so calm.

It's clear now. Of course the Vulcans wouldn't help us. They were plotting with the Federation all along. They've always wanted control of Rihanssu space, desired to take her plentiful resources and use them for the furthering of their own empire. But they knew they could not come out on top in a full-scale war with the Rihanssu. So they bided their time, seemingly offered the olive branch, opened peace talks with our people, all so they could take what they wanted with no casualties on their part. The Federation orchestrated this from the very beginning. They are responsible. So very, very responsible, holding the guilt of billions of deaths upon their heads. My sister, her children, my wife and our child…the siblings and spouses and children of every crew member on board my ship. It's not my fault.

They will not get away with it.

I can lead them now, my crew. I know our purpose, the direction we must go, the path we must travel. It is paved in blood and fire and sweet, sweet retribution, and will start with the deaths of Captain Newton and his crew, then Vulcan and all its inhabitants, Spock…the whole of the Federation.

And nothing will stand in my way.


I've wanted to write something to this effect forever; My Chemical Romance just gave me the creative push that I needed.

Nero © Paramount

Lyrics © My Chemical Romance