The vast majority of people won't truly know how this feels, but they may think they do. Only when it really happens will you finally realise what it means to be betrayed, to be lost, to be forgotten. That's how he felt, that how he feels, betrayed. The empty void had come to be his resting place, but not for his body. It was a rather untraditional thing that was buried here. It is where Leere had lost the last thing that made him stable, or whatever could have been passed off as such, it was here that Leere lost what was closest to him and was left, betrayed, by his only human friend.
He had brought her here, to this open abyss, to speak and talk as they always had done. Sadly, it was soon apparent that she had other plans. Those plans being getting them both into a state of comfort and then ramming poor Leere against a pipe, impaling him, perhaps it wasn't planned... who knows?
Having a large metal pipe violently inserted through your chest would make you think he was dead; perished and gone, left to dust sitting where she left him. Yet no, there was something that kept him from dying, barely. It was Izah.
Izah had made Leere his home and when a wall in your home comes crashing down you have to repair it. So it got to work, mending the wound, patching it. This entire time, Leere struggled on for life with a gaping hole on both sides of his body. Izah is the only reason he stands today, yet it wasn't as simple and clear cut as it could have been. It wasn't like the weapon used for attempted murder conveniently missed the large organism latched on to Leere's spine; Izah to was dying.
The priority rested on Leere however, if he died it didn't matter how well Izah had healed itself, Leere was required for Izah to survive. This is why Izah had to do what it did... it was for the sake of its own survival, not that this mattered to it in the end. Izah worked and worked, saving Leere from bleeding out but not even it could stop the inevitable, one of them was going to die.
Leere was safe, for now, Izah had mended his wounds to the point where he could linger on, and fly himself out of this empty soulless place. But where would he go? He had a dying incubus inside of him and he would never reach Das Wilde space in time. Despite that clear fact Leere pushed through the pain and agony, heading towards a distant land on a futile hope. Yet there was something he failed to realise, it was already too late. Izah was no more.
Izah had died trying to keep them both alive, only half succeeding. Yet Leere was suffering from a wide array of horrible afflictions having almost died and lost the thing that kept him in this functioning state. He had suffered trauma on a level worse than ever before, and Leere has had some scrapes before. His mind was fracturing, with the simplest of mental tasks being a challenge - there was no possibility of him making it back, not that he would be welcome there anymore.
He had been dipping in and out of consciousness and at the rate he was going it wouldn't make all the difference, he had to stop and rest. Leere took himself away from the cockpit, falling immediately to the floor due to his weakness. He struggled over to the wall-mounted medkit which to him felt like an uphill battle. Retrieving the supplies Leere headed for the cargo bay, maybe he could find something to lie down on... just for a little bit. He ended up applying bandages mostly covering the wounds that were healed by Izah and chose to lie down on some furs he had in his cargo hold, wasn't much but the best he could do in his situation.
He drifted into a slumber with ease, his body tired and in need of rest. His rest was long and undisturbed, it was only when he woke that he felt the pain. Although he was suffering he was only in true pain when he made his scaring discovery. The songs had stopped, there was silence. Leere cried out its name, hoping to get a response but there was nothing, the songs had ceased.
As Leere drifted through the unknown reaches of the edge worlds, he spent his time in states of confusion and deep thought. He had a large amount of time now to himself, where he could do nothing but think and mull things over. Through this entire time, Leere continued to only have ideas and nothing definitive but he had suspicions about what happened to allow for him to be where he his now, alone. Despite all this, he faced a serious issue: His food supply.
At this point, it had been several days since his escape from death and he had been draining food like never before. His small little signature wraith didn't hold that many units, given it had to make room for the Nomad Power Cell. The remaining space was used to carry enough food, oxygen and water; as well as some extra goods like the furs. Given his small supply was almost devoid of anything edible he had little choice in whether he acted.
To Leere, the question beckoned. "Where can I go..?" It was this question he asked himself over and over, each time sounding ever more fearful. Leere pondered the thought of many different options he might have, dismissing most as too risky. He knew that he wasn't exactly welcomed by the majority of society, and his ship had been identified before; it wasn't worth the risk. He carefully considered his options, trying his best to stay calm and collected despite his dire situation.
His conclusion was a simple one in words, but more complex in practice. He needed his own little retreat, a getaway. Somewhere he could call home even if just for the time being while he comes to a full recovery. Yet where? Maybe he could find somewhere among some lowlifes and freelancers, a place where no one would recognise him? Find some uninhabited planet and rest there? Or maybe he hides out with a faction that wouldn't try and kill him on sight? The Commune? Pirates? These ideas and thoughts rushed through his head and it was a hard time sorting through them for what was actually viable.
Leere distracted himself, the supplies situation won't sort itself out. But what could be done? He wasn't exactly flowing in credits (not without his stash anyways). It didn't matter, it wasn't like he could just fly up to a station and buy some food to go. "Perhaps..." he said to himself quietly as he pondered a new option in his head. "We're more important anyway," he whispered to himself in sinister sounding tone. With that said, all he needed now was a target. Somewhere in the Edge Worlds, he would be certain to find something a little too lost and helpless. An easy kill.
Leere wasn't really used to this much thinking, it has been so long since he had to use his own brain to think of everything, he had always had another one helping him. The silence gave him an unwelcome sense of paranoia that seemed to just spring itself upon him at random times.
A new day dawned on Leere. He awoke from his rough and short slumber to the same grey ceiling of the cargo hold. The cargo hold was still soaked in the blood of her victims with the colours mixing together. It was a vile scene that would strike feelings of unease into most sane people. He simply disregarded it, perhaps out of denial.
His ship was dark with the only lighting being dim and not all that helpful. Many systems were offline to preserve energy seeing as his only resources at this time are obtained through the slaughter of innocents, though in his eyes there are no innocents. Before leaving the cargo hold Leere swiped a small package from one of the crates that he had recently obtained. He took it though and walked through the eerie corridors of his fighter, making his way towards the cockpit to sit down. The lighting and silence of the ship provided a unique and almost disturbing atmosphere, as that foreboding sense of the unknown always brings.
Once sat down he opened the package to reveal some small rations that realistically would be nowhere near enough for a grown man, yet there was little he could do. Leere had to make do with what he had. He sat for a while, staring into the cosmos before him, Lost really was a beautiful system. Granted it didn't take him long to chow down on this meagre portion, but at least he had a nice view while he did it. Upon finishing he looked out a little longer, gazing and lost in thought.
There was, however, something that broke his focus and attracted his attention. A tiny flickering light, just in the corner of his peripheral vision. Turning his chair to face it, he reached out to pick up the source of the flickering light, its green glow illuminating the cockpit with a dim and faded tint. The light came from his datapad, covered in dust and laid to rest; only now showing itself now thanks to the ships lack of power.
Grasping the delicate machine he brings it forth before him. He gently sweeps the dust to aside and wipes the screen, ensuring it looks exactly as it did before. Once sufficiently clear he unlocks it, it wasn't much but he once again had access to the Neural-Net. He looked over it, seeing what he had missed over the last several weeks. To his surprise the where currently a war going on in Delta, one between The Core & Zoners; little did he know this was only the first of many.
There was something else, however, something that caused him to slump into his chair. His logs... His comms. As his eyes wandered the pad's contents he sunk further and further into his chair. Each one having words that darted at his very being and humanity, or what's left of it.
The words rang through the empty shell that Leere was, echoing with each vibration. The longer he read the harder it was to continue, each comm piling on the previous. A tear or two wells in his eyes, with the two sentences that stay with him the most.
"Can we meet again, Leere? I miss you."
"You will meet me in Omicron Lost."
The words echoed through the ship as he said them over and over. Echoed.
Time passed, things didn't change. Soon it had ben several weeks bordering on two months that he had been stranded, only leaving the safety of his empty abyss every few days to steal some supplies from passing convoys elsewhere in the Omicrons. While he technically could leave and travel elsewhere he dared not leave the only place he had known, even when he leaves for supplies an overarching feeling of dread befell him. This place had become something he had known, and a something familiar provided a blissful sense of ignorance is if everything was okay.
Yet two months is a long time. It had been two months since Leere had contact with another being... another Human. He was left, betrayed by someone he loved, and this had an irreversible effect on him. Leere wasn't always the most... stable of individuals, he had many troubles in his life and they all had a bit of an effect on him, each one stacking on. Social situations troubled him, his control of anger always need plenty of work... and then there were his abandonment issues. Maren was the first, and she could very be the last; his trust for people had gone out the window.
As time passed his condition got noticeably worse. The paranoia become more prevalent, the panicking became more frequent and the loneliness became unbearable. Leere was deteriorating and becoming a corrupted and twisted image of his former self, which considering what he was like really shows how far over the edge he was being pushed.
It's ironic, if everyone knew what Leere had been through, some might understand him... perhaps even feel sorry for him. Sadly, though, no one will get that knowledge and no one will bestow their forgiveness upon him. Leere was alone remaining in his ship, his little sanctuary.
Leere had gone about his time, each day being the same thing. This ordeal he was going through wasn't pretty but it showed something about him: Leere was a survivalist. The time was nearing where he would make his move, finally leave this recurring cycle. It had been almost three months and he grew restless, yet Leere was detained by that internal fear that governed his actions.
Yet as time passed he realised that he had to move, he couldn't stay here forever. Leere marched through his ship, the centre had a very small table for which he could lay his plans. In Leere's hand was a large sheet of paper, he sprawled it out on the table before him. It was time for him to begin.
As he got down to writing the same problems as before arose, the sides of the sheet were covered in crossed out ideas and designs. His planning sheet was a mess that only he would really make sense of anyway. He had drafted routes for which he could travel, he calculated all known ways he could take out of the Omicrons, but each one had a cut off that could end very badly if things went south. If he went through Rho, The Core could pump his ship full of holes and end him there and then. If he decided to take the southern route he'd be faced with an onslaught of robots and the Corsairs, or even the Zoners of which Leere's face is well known among.
There was an idea, though, maybe he didn't have to leave the Omicrons. Leere got out his star charts and looked over the Omicron systems. Delta, Theta, Kappa, Minor...
Each system had its pros and cons, Theta, in particular, would have been ideal if not for how inhabited it was. Nothing was going to work. every planet had something deterring him, be it a space station or the planets lack of habitability. At the rate things were going, he'd have to be quick and subtle and find somewhere else in Sirius, somewhere outside of the Edge Worlds.
With his plans laid out in rough, but at the same time precise, detail, Leere set out. Having recently raided a small and vulnerable transport in Delta, his cargo bay was stocked for a few days so food was no issue. Leere was setting out to see how accurate his charts were, and how viable this idea was as an option to him. The only major downside he saw thus far was the cost for this. A small outpost wouldn't be impossible after all, but it would still be a billion credits, or within the region of.
That, however, was all just plans for the future. With his loss of his fortune, everything Leere owned was crammed into this small little ship as it dashed sneakily through the edge worlds. Leere had to be careful when traversing the unknown plains before him as all would take is one ship with a cloak disrupter and it was all over for him, once and for all. Leere slowly approached the swirling jumphole to the Omicron Delta system, he took in another deep breath as he knew he wouldn't return to Lost, not for a while at least. It was time for him to find a new hole to writhe in.
He didn't plan on going far, just find somewhere to reside while he did small scale scouting missions to update his star charts, that were no doubt out of date at this point, and search for potential locations for a future hideout he could setup. It's ironic that he thought about the future so much, taking his situation into consideration. He had no idea how anywhere apart from Lost and Delta had developed or changed so the Omicrons were like an oyster he had to open, and he had to be cautious and observant if he was going to survive.
As days passed and weeks arrived, Leere further expanded his knowledge on the new, ever changing, environment of the Omicrons. He had taken up temporary residence in Omicron Minor system, another place of which he held a strong emotional attachment to, for better or worse. The Minor Nebula was disconcerting to Leere, to say the least, and the dark green cloud carried this nasty sense of foreboding.
Leere's plan currently was to slowly make his way up to the northern Omicrons, near Alpha and the other Outcast systems. If his information was still correct from the Neural-Net he might have found the ideal candidate for himself. Planet Carinae, located in Omicron Alpha. It was secluded and uninhabited. The entire planet contained this highly toxic chemical that prevented any sort of colonisation which meant the planet would be very well suited for a small outpost there, maybe a secure bunker to be built. Either way, if he was to have any location, Outcast space would have been the most ideal place to settle anyway.
The Omicrons and their signature green haze don't do wonders for Leere, it for one causes his paranoia to strike back twice as bad as before. It was something he had to learn to deal with but that didn't mean it was easy. In time Leere would have to push forwards and see if his "dream" could become a reality, but for now, he can rest.
Betrayal leads to a different person altogether, that much Leere is evidence of.
Leere was restless. He twisted and turned in his cramped up makeshift bed, squirming in his dream state. His thoughts, as usual, were dark and radiated his trauma. If one could see into his head, there is a good chance they'd put him out of his misery after witnessing the horrifying display that is his mind. This evening, while his ship drifts eerily in the void, Leere was trapped in his nightmares.
Leere found himself standing in a dark room, the only lighting focusing on the centre, on Leere. It was silent. The silence itself carried a long lasting echo that stayed within his mind, it was a silence with sound. The dim light flickered and the solid metallic walls stood there, acting like guardians to a pristine facility - expect they were grimy. Old. Derelict. Leere looked down, he was detained and restrained; bolted to this primitive chair.
Something pinged in Leere's mind, he'd been here before. This place in his prison, Erika Keller brought him here, this is where it all began. This is where Izah was born into this universe. This is where Leere's fate was sealed. He looked down at the bonds that bound him, as his gaze focused he saw them glaring back with intent. His eyes darted around the room, trying to understand his situation. In an instant, his head flashed as he slipped unconscious, even though it was for a short time.
Has he awoke, he noticed his change in scenery. The room was illuminated by a warm red light, that you'd think to be more akin to sinking ship or some derelict station. The light gave the room a sinister tone. The former silence was broken by the sound of a dripping pipe coming out of the wall, the drips it provided had formed a small puddle that flowed to the centre of the room at Leere's feet. Looking down, Leere saw his binds were gone but their marks remained. Leere thrust himself up out of the chair but immediately fell to the floor ending on his hands and knees. His breathing was hard and heavy and carried an almost shattering sound.
Taking a moment to remove his dizziness and get his bearings, he noticed the red light highlighted a metal object, it reflected the light at just the right angle to create a glare in his eyes. He scampered over to it on all fours like an animal, or someone backing themselves against a wall in fear. Examine the object it was covered in dust, to the point of being illegible. Wiping it with his hand he could make out the main indentations of the tablet, "U-177".
"Not this again... oh not thing again." he said to himself, reiterating it over and over.
"Why must I be punished with these memories?"
Blood leaks out from his hands with no visible wounds, the distortion on his face tells a tale that only he'd understand. Leere knew what was coming, he'd seen it all before - all before in his mind.
"Why... whhy..."
A sharp pain reaches Leere, crippling him further and leaving him in a motionless state as he struggles forwards. His breathing becomes more intense, the sheer sound of it overriding the continuous drip of the pipe. Has he crawled his way towards the metallic door on the far side of the room, Leere heard the distant sound of mechanical doors opening elsewhere in the facility or ship he was in. The opening and closing was continuous, each one getting louder and louder, with the origin closer and closer. As he got closer and closer to the door, to escape, to freedom, the door swung open with a shadowed figure standing in the open doorway.
Leere scuttled backwards towards the centre of the room before the pain surged and detained him once more. The figure approached into the warm red light, revealing their identity. Leere squealed. Before him was Keller, in her full BDM uniform, holding a long fully loaded plasma rifle in her hands. Leere's expression told all, his fear, his pain... his regret.
Keller stood over him menacingly and he knew what was to come, he simply begged her has innocently as possible.
"Please... don't do it. Don't condemn me to that fate. I don't deserve it".
Keller giggled, "Oh how silly of you. You know how this is going to end anyway."
Keller aimed the gun right at Leere, and as soon as he closed his eyes during his flinch, the thunderous roar of the weapon reverberated around the room.
Leere shot up out of his makeshift bed to the sight of his cargo bay walls and the blandness of his surroundings. He slumped over and cried into his knees, unable to really accept how he ended up like this.
Leere awoke to the green tint of the nebula creeping inside the interiors of the ship, as time went on the ominous Nebula became more and more unnerving.
Leere had to push for more ground, but also take care to go on an excursion for more supplies often. Once he was in Alpha, his nearest point for snaring goods and cash would be the Sigmas, which had a large amount of traffic that carried valuable fuel - among other resources.
He grumbled as he made his way to the cockpit, his walk slightly skewed from the way he'd slept. He took control over the spacecraft and fired up its engines, the sound from them rattled through the ship and it did not sound clean. The long time since their last maintenance was beginning to show - he really did need to make planetfall in the not too distant future. He guided his ship through system after system, bound for the Sigmas to restock on supplies before continuing his voyage to Omicron Alpha.
Sigma-13 was a popular choke point and he could catch a transport off guard with ease. Leere simply hoped he found one with something useful, along side a dose of food, oxygen and water.
Leere had many ideas during his time alone. Very few of them would indefinitely, if at all. However, one night, after a successful raid in Sigma-13 when he was combing through the debris of his kill, a new idea struck him. One of the crew members had made it to a pod, which now drifted aimlessly in the void until something picked it up. The idea was simple.
"Slavery." Leere said to himself.
Slave traders on Malta would pay a hefty sum for the survivors he brought there to work the plantations. He'd been there long in the past when he bought Maren the "Spicerunner". Leere thought he should still have some contacts that would help him move the goods.
After enough time and effort, he'd surely amount enough to fund his survival. Perhaps he would be able to pay for somewhere private for him to stay and bide his time. Somewhere away from civilisation on Malta, but somewhere he could access with ease. His original plan had been given new life and new hope.
A grin appeared across his face. Soon he'd have the means to do more than skulk in the shadows. Soon there would be people that feared his name again. Leere was overjoyed at the thought.