The Self Righteous
CHAPTER 1 : From the Dust, to the Heavens
Charles Estes awoke. The sound was deafening. Sleeping under the constant threat of sirens was miserable.
“When would this end," Charles thought to himself. “How much more can we take."
As bad as sleepless nights were, the denizens of Melting Pot had become accustomed to the clamoring that accompanied their daily routines. Charles looked at the small clock hanging near his hammock.The clock read 8:00 AM.
“Damn it, I slept in again,” Charles groggily thought to himself.
He stumbled through his routine of hurriedly making his way down the metal corridor leading out of his quarters, not fully aware of the trials that would accompany today. He briskly walked down the dark hallway lit with foggy red lights and smelling of rusty tin. It made him wonder what living on a submarine might be like. He was heading toward the surgical wing, and the blaring sirens were scattering his thoughts like newspapers in the wind. The surgical wing was adjacent to, but in some way distant from, his bedroom, and as he neared the end of the hallway, Charles realized how easy it would be just to pretend his duties of the day were over and turn around.
The hall was cold. Charles couldn't understand why. Normally it was sweltering, but something in his routine was different. Something about today was different, and Charles considered crawling back into bed.
The lights flickered, then they went off, and then they came back on. He hated those red lights, but with electricity being a commodity, he told himself to be happy. Most of the colony still used candles and lanterns, and the last thing Charles wanted was to lose the small amenities he had managed to gain for his department. The hospital, being a priority as far as electricity goes, was one of the only facilities in the colony that operated completely off of electrical power. This was due mostly to the incessant whining of Charles on behalf of his department. He was very good at getting things he wanted, even if he didn’t always deserve them.
Charles pushed through the double doors that Mike had helped him install leading from the hallway. The only reason he noticed the plain swinging doors on a daily basis was because he and Mike had one hell of a time getting them into the hall. It was funny because Mike was almost crushed by a beam that fell from the ceiling where they found the old doors. They laugh about it now but that would have put one hell of a strain on the colony in the early days. “What would we do without Mikey,” Charles thought to himself.
The doors opened to a madhouse. It had been this way for almost a year now. There was a sizable force of medical personnel that worked at the hospital. To call the wartime triage established here understaffed would have been a blast at the efficiency at which Charles managed his resources. After the fourth or fifth year at the colony, it became apparent that there would be no shortage of skilled medical practitioners. Charles, again, was thankful for that. He had been a nurse when the quakes hit, and not a very good one at that. He was fresh out of school. With no experience, other than the clinical work he was required to complete for graduation, Charles had learned he was not the most experienced of healers. The duty fell on his shoulders, initially, due only to a lack of anyone better.
Charles remembered what Doc had said to him after the ground breaking ceremony for the hospital. ”Congratulations Charles,” he said, “You are our nations new Surgeon General, by default.”
Charles and Doc were always at each others throats. Doc had made several attempts to convince Mike to replace Charles with someone more experienced. Charles knew, though, that qualification had nothing to do with Doc’s motives.
The two stopped speaking to one another due to, “irreconcilable differences,” as Charles liked to put it, about a year before Doc’s condition had worsened.
“If that old man wasn’t unconscious and if I thought he could feel any pain at all,” Charles thought,” I might go punch his nutty ass in the throat, crazy old loon.”
Now though, despite the best efforts of the Doc, and regardless of the doctors, and surgeons, and specialist that had eclipsed his particular skill sets, Charles kept his position in the hospital making sure everything ran smoothly. Charles had a drive and a repoir with all the other departments within the colony that made him indispensible.
Doctors and nurses were running back and forth, to and fro, keeping those people who had been on the outer walls, alive. The place was bloody. There was a lot of death, a lot of screaming, and a lot of pain. Charles knew though, or at least he thought, the colony could handle the stress.
“We have done too much to be ended by this,” Charles thought to himself.
The colonist had been struggling in a war against another faction. They called themselves the Draugians, but most colony residents only referred to them as the Pestilence. Battles had been occurring between Melting Pot and the Draugians sporadically for the last fifteen years. Much of the fighting consisted of nothing more than small, violent skirmishes over habitable territory. In the last two years, the Draugians had built a more permanent residence about fifty miles south of Melting Pot. Their attacks had recently increased, both in frequency and violence. The revival of hostilities led many colonists to believe that the Draugians had shifted their sights to Melting Pot itself.
“We are going to destroy ourselves, long before the Cretians do, the internal fighting must stop, there must be a way to unite humanity?” 
Charles’ thoughts on current affairs were ended when n older man approached him. It was one of the surgeons that had been making rounds for the night watch. The man strolled up to Charles, and with a smile on his face that only a surgeon could have, he said, “If they keep coming like this, we will have a larger population within the hospital, then we have in the colony."
Charles looked at him with a sour face, “What?" he barked. Charles’ feather had clearly been ruffled by the nonchalant attitude of the man before him. As far as he was concerned there was only room in this hospital for one man’s wise cracking comments, his.
Charles recognized the old man as Jim Edgars. Edgars had recently drifted into the colony from somewhere far to the north. Even though the man was ten years Charles’ senior, Charles couldn’t help but think of him as “the new guy.” Edgars spoke hurriedly now. Charles’ cold discourse must have had an effect on the old man. “Another rocket attack, this one bad. It took out two of the generators nearby." Charles chuckled to himself, “That’s why the lights were flickering earlier."
Charles knew that what Edgars had told him was serious. Without electricity to power the hospitals equipment, the patients in critical condition would surely die. Michael planned the colonies wiring to direct some power from all generators to the hospital, in case its generator was hit. Mike had an incredible ability to see all the possible outcomes of any course of action. His powers of foresight benefited even the most obscure situations. Charles knew, though, with one, maybe two generators down, and power being diverted here, Jeffery would be struggling to keep the automated defenses operable.
“Calm down Edgars." Charles snarled. “Keep your mind on your job. I am counting on you to continue your watch. I have to go find Mike. I need to know that the other three triages are still operational. I know you’re tired, but our people have been fighting non-stop, for a little more than thirty-six hours now. How do you think they feel, you’re not the one getting shot at?"
All in all there were three medical facilities in the colony. The hospital was supposed to be the only one, but with the number of casualties coming in, Charles made previsions to set up two more strategically placed, temporary triages, and more recently, one mobile unit that could follow the fighting.
Edgars took a deep breath, “I won't let you down, sir."Charles nodded to him, and made his way quickly towards the door leading outside. His cruiser was waiting to take him aboard the Dreadnaught Icarus. This war wasn’t going to be won fighting each other, and the sooner people realize it’s not going to be won on the ground either, the sooner we can save humanity. The sirens were still deafening.