From the Ashes

The civilian looked up. Intense green eyes burned out of a face the color of dark clover honey and seared into his soul. "I said, I'm not leaving. Nothing you can do or say will get me to move."

"Who are you?" Wallace breathed, then resumed his professional aspect. "Nonsense, Em. There is no reason to remain here on the Fury, unless you wish to join the military."

"Military? Me? Ha!" The man brushed hair away from his face, revealing more of that burning gaze. Wallace dismissed the flutter in his middle as irrelevant to the situation. "Do you know who I am?"

"No, Em, I do not. Now can you stand up please?"

The man picked himself up off the floor, suddenly swathed in arrogance. It seemed as if all the light in the corridor concentrated on him. "I am Aran-Ra, God-King of Pyphos." Then he deflated again. "And that is why I must not set foot on this pure new planet. I must not pollute it with my presence."

Wallace noted the shocked reactions of the others, and hoped his own face concealed his surprise and curiosity. And attraction.

Instantly, the pain threatened again.

"Why not?" Wallace asked, rather than give in to the pain. His wife was unquestionably dead. He refused to let himself hurt and suffer because he was still alive. And most certainly, if anything of her survived and followed what he did with his life, she would never begrudge him feeling attraction towards other human beings, although she'd likely shake her head and grimace at his miserably bad timing. Inappropriate, dear, she'd likely say. Wait until you're off duty, at least.

"Surely the real God has punished me and all my people," the God-King said, face crumpling as he slid back down the wall to land with a thump. "Why else would He destroy the worlds, if not to punish sins? My world, my culture, my entire life has been a mockery of the real God, and for my sins, all have paid. I do not deserve to set foot upon any other world. I should have died in the attack. I should have been left to die, alone on Pyphos. . ."

"Rubbish," Wallace snapped, irritated by both himself and the pathetic tone of the words. "If you had personally offended a god, any god, rest assured you would be dead. I don't believe in the beings myself, but all the stories are pretty consistent on that one thing: anger a god, and die. Not anger a god, and everyone else dies. Now get off your self-pitying rear end and have your crisis of conscience on the planet where it's safe."