For the next few weeks, Timothy failed to leave his room. The blank canvas of its walls was his only entertainment. He did not talk to his men and spoke as little as possible to his care-bot who nevertheless insisted on giving him updates.
Timothy remembered the first time he had heard about the Terminatus decree. He was young at the time and it was from his father. It was something that he could barely conceive and it had immediately sent a shudder down his twisted spine.
Over the years he had learned more. Some people had told him that the Emperor would never actually do such a thing. Others told him that it had already been done to many worlds. That even a billion human deaths would mean little to the Emperor. Such says seemed almost heretical to him then but now he knew better.
Each time he heard that robotic voice of his care-bot, it had news of another world that had been turned to dust. Fortunately, most had only been barely hospitable in the first place. Thousands of lives were lost instead of billions. But that wasn’t always the case.
“Timothie, nneeww report. Termminnatus Sigma 214568.”
His dreams had become nightmares. All he could think about was all the families that were being obliterated. All the sons watching their mothers and fathers being disassembled before their eyes. All he could have hope for was that they were quick deaths.
Mark's Writing Corner 