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+--- Thread: Cursed (/showthread.php?tid=194672)
Cursed - Leo - 10-07-2022
Scattered images flashed. Loud noises echoed. An emergency jump, a loud noise, distorted voices and a strange sensation as if being pulled apart to the molecular level. Then silence. Blessed...silence. He had never felt such a calming thing. No thoughts, no noises or external stimuli that demanded his attention...then suddenly, everything came rushing back at once.
Blinding pain brought Zylar back to reality with a gasp. It felt like he'd been ripped apart. He'd felt this once before jumping the White Rabbit, now the Defiance, across lightyears of space without a properly calibrated Jump drive. It seems as if he hadn't learned his lesson the first time. This time, however, he was certain the drive was properly calibrated. After all, the Order had sent some of their best to ensure the ship would make it to Epsilon. Whatever had happened may have completely crippled the ship. It wasn't in any shape to take this kind of abuse.
"Status report." he managed to croak out. His voice felt dry as if he had been unconscious for days.
He was met with deafening silence. He couldn't quite open his eyes completely and everything around him was swimming in a red tint. He reached up slowly to his eyes and felt that they'd been crusted or scabbed closed. He slowly and methodically pulled off the crust to allow his eyes to open. His eyes felt dry and had trouble focusing. It felt like he'd been punched in both his eyes as he struggled to focus on his surroundings.
The command deck looked like it had been picked up and shook aggressively by some kind of pissed off giant. Consoles hung loosely from conduits and holes were punched in bulkheads in several places...however he noticed that the chairs around the deck were all turned to face away from him. There appeared to be no one present on the command deck.
He tapped his chairs console to bring up the status displays for the ship but was met with a dark screen. Confused, he hit the side of the chair with the bottom of his fist, thinking that the display might just be dead. However, nothing came up to greet him. He noticed that the simple act of hitting the chair had caused his arm to feel like he'd just bench pressed a truck.
"No power." he said. Speaking caused him to go into a coughing fit, spewing bloody phlegm all over the back of his hand.
"That's not good." he thought to himself.
He leveraged himself up on the command chairs armrests to force himself to his feet and promptly fell down to the floor. Cursing inwardly, he dragged himself over to one of the intact consoles and pulled himself to his feet. His entire body hurt; he felt weak almost as if he hadn't used his muscles in years. As he stood, leaning against the console to catch his breath, he took a better look at the command deck.
Looking back to the command chair he'd been sitting in, he noticed the thick layer of dust that he'd disturbed dragging himself over to the console that he now leaned against. Furthermore, he finally noticed the emancipated bodies that still manned their stations; their bodies looking as if they'd been dead for centuries.
"What....the hell...is going on?" he said to himself taking deep raspy breaths between the words. He looked to the console he was leaning against and for the first time, noticed his appearance.
His face was almost reminiscent of a skull. A thin layer of skin clung to his cheekbones. His eyes were sunken and dark. For the first time he looked to the rest of his body and noticed how skinny he was. It looked like he hadn't eaten in months. He looked like the prisoners' of war he'd seen in ancient photographs from Earth.
"Ah, you're finally awake." said a familiar woman's voice. No...it couldn't be. She was dead.
He spun to look at where the voice was coming from but lost his balance and fell to the floor. As he hit the deck, he felt a bone in his wrist snap. He screamed as a result of the sudden feeling of pain. The woman dropped whatever she had been carrying and rushed over to where Zylar had collapsed. As she came into view, tears filled his vision as he saw her face. It was true...she was alive.
"J-Jasmine?" he croaked out. Tears rolled down his face in happiness, pain, and sorrow all at once.
His wife from the war, back from the dead.
"Shhh. Quiet now. It's okay, I'll explain later." she said in a concerned voice. The voice that she'd always used when he was trying to keep him calm. "Right now you need to rest and get your strength back. You've been asleep for a long time. It took me years to find you."
"Asleep?" he said going into another coughing fit.
"Yes, you've been asleep a long time."
"How long?" he rasped. He was bordering on a panic attack.
"About three years."
"What? How-"
"Rest." she said pressing her palm to his forehead. As she did so, his entire body relaxed as he drifted off to a peaceful dreamless sleep.
Blinding pain brought Zylar back to reality with a gasp. It felt like he'd been ripped apart. He'd felt this once before jumping the White Rabbit, now the Defiance, across lightyears of space without a properly calibrated Jump drive. It seems as if he hadn't learned his lesson the first time. This time, however, he was certain the drive was properly calibrated. After all, the Order had sent some of their best to ensure the ship would make it to Epsilon. Whatever had happened may have completely crippled the ship. It wasn't in any shape to take this kind of abuse.
"Status report." he managed to croak out. His voice felt dry as if he had been unconscious for days.
He was met with deafening silence. He couldn't quite open his eyes completely and everything around him was swimming in a red tint. He reached up slowly to his eyes and felt that they'd been crusted or scabbed closed. He slowly and methodically pulled off the crust to allow his eyes to open. His eyes felt dry and had trouble focusing. It felt like he'd been punched in both his eyes as he struggled to focus on his surroundings.
The command deck looked like it had been picked up and shook aggressively by some kind of pissed off giant. Consoles hung loosely from conduits and holes were punched in bulkheads in several places...however he noticed that the chairs around the deck were all turned to face away from him. There appeared to be no one present on the command deck.
He tapped his chairs console to bring up the status displays for the ship but was met with a dark screen. Confused, he hit the side of the chair with the bottom of his fist, thinking that the display might just be dead. However, nothing came up to greet him. He noticed that the simple act of hitting the chair had caused his arm to feel like he'd just bench pressed a truck.
"No power." he said. Speaking caused him to go into a coughing fit, spewing bloody phlegm all over the back of his hand.
"That's not good." he thought to himself.
He leveraged himself up on the command chairs armrests to force himself to his feet and promptly fell down to the floor. Cursing inwardly, he dragged himself over to one of the intact consoles and pulled himself to his feet. His entire body hurt; he felt weak almost as if he hadn't used his muscles in years. As he stood, leaning against the console to catch his breath, he took a better look at the command deck.
Looking back to the command chair he'd been sitting in, he noticed the thick layer of dust that he'd disturbed dragging himself over to the console that he now leaned against. Furthermore, he finally noticed the emancipated bodies that still manned their stations; their bodies looking as if they'd been dead for centuries.
"What....the hell...is going on?" he said to himself taking deep raspy breaths between the words. He looked to the console he was leaning against and for the first time, noticed his appearance.
His face was almost reminiscent of a skull. A thin layer of skin clung to his cheekbones. His eyes were sunken and dark. For the first time he looked to the rest of his body and noticed how skinny he was. It looked like he hadn't eaten in months. He looked like the prisoners' of war he'd seen in ancient photographs from Earth.
"Ah, you're finally awake." said a familiar woman's voice. No...it couldn't be. She was dead.
He spun to look at where the voice was coming from but lost his balance and fell to the floor. As he hit the deck, he felt a bone in his wrist snap. He screamed as a result of the sudden feeling of pain. The woman dropped whatever she had been carrying and rushed over to where Zylar had collapsed. As she came into view, tears filled his vision as he saw her face. It was true...she was alive.
"J-Jasmine?" he croaked out. Tears rolled down his face in happiness, pain, and sorrow all at once.
His wife from the war, back from the dead.
"Shhh. Quiet now. It's okay, I'll explain later." she said in a concerned voice. The voice that she'd always used when he was trying to keep him calm. "Right now you need to rest and get your strength back. You've been asleep for a long time. It took me years to find you."
"Asleep?" he said going into another coughing fit.
"Yes, you've been asleep a long time."
"How long?" he rasped. He was bordering on a panic attack.
"About three years."
"What? How-"
"Rest." she said pressing her palm to his forehead. As she did so, his entire body relaxed as he drifted off to a peaceful dreamless sleep.