It was bright, the glow heavy with pulses of generator fluctuation. The air stale, he could taste the nearly forgotten tinge of recycler filters.
I’m on a ship! Gods no, not again…
Blinking away the crust of what must be weeks of sleep the slender corpse of a man worked his way out of a sleep chamber. Looking down the realization that he was clothed was as much of a shock as the cold metal beneath his bare feet.
They don’t let you wear clothes when they drag you off to be…
This wasn’t the black ship again! Oh emperor be praised he wasn’t going to die again. Had I died? No, the dead can’t think! I think therefore I was. Am? Name… I have a name…
Vernicus Vul Vorander. Gods, mother you were a cunt. Vern. The name is Vern!
Okay, things are looking up. They didn’t take your name at least this time.
Looking around the gaunt man takes stock of his situation. Brushing back a fried mane of stark white hair he gasps. There are others… oh drat. He hated others. His reflex to hide back in the sleep chamber is suppressed. Be strong!
We should probably kill them.
We? Damn it all. Not you again.
Drat. Note to self, remember to forget.
We can never be forgotten.
Later! We can handle that later! Right now… oh yes. We’re on a ship, it’s descending rapidly. Breaking orbit?
Let’s crash it.
No! We’re on the ship! There will be no crashing.
Quiet you. I swear.
He always had the most trouble with himself when he’d been drinking or partaking in exotic substances. They must have drugged him at some point for the sleep chamber. Good grief he’d need to get control soon. Can’t have an episode again. Too much blood.
They’re talking about you. Planning things.
They were speaking, maybe he should listen. Say hello? Oh they had a data slate. This is bad. I think we’re landing. Stay cool.
We’ve got this.
Fuck. Get control Vern… they’ll point guns at you if you don’t. They’ll take you away.
No I’ve got this!
We certainly do.