Considering that Lyta Alexander was originally supposed to be the captured rogue in Crusade's "Path of Sorrows," I'm assuming, for the moment, that she was captured by the Corps at some point during the teep war. This is a stream of consciousness from her stay there. As always, owned by JMS and whoever, in no way mine.
Awake
Hi there.
Am I losing my mind?
God, I hope not. But hell, with that infernal numbness up there, who knows?
Not sure how long I've been here. The sleepers have done wonders to my internal clock.
I could try computing it by counting the number of doses I've had and multiplying by hours, then days, but that would take far too much effort and I've never liked playing with numbers anyway.
Besides, I usually fall asleep after they administer them (the sleepers, not the numbers, obviously), and when I wake, my head is swimming and can I hardly even remember my own name. Far from ideal conditions for doing math.
But I'm not asleep now.
I
Am
Lyta
Alexander
And
I
Will
Not
Give
In.
Well. That was a pointless mental exercise.
At least the room has stopped dancing.
Actually, I think I liked it better when the room was dancing. Gave me something to watch, anyway.
When you're incarcerated, you take pleasure in the little things.
You also learn how much a little bit of time can stretch out.
Stupid time.
Can't believe I really got caught. Me. It doesn't matter if it was a surprise; I should be able to smell an ambush a mile away. But it was so fast, God, so fast. Blink of an eye and they were all over us.
Did someone sell us out?
Ah well, I'll blame Bester. Bester bastard. Yet another sin on his head.
I wonder if he ever feels guilty...
No. I've seen that look in his eyes. I don't think he even knows the meaning of the word anymore.
You have to wonder:
Why'd he do all those necroscans?
Scratch that. You don't have to wonder. It's Bester. Won't waste another millisecond thinking about him.
But you find ways to make the milliseconds go by. However pathetic. One of the hobbies I have acquired during my stay here in my little cell is a little game I sometimes play with myself: seeing how long I can keep track of the time before I go insane and lose track of the time. Wheee.
Let's play now. Tap on the cold metal bench every second.
Tick
Tick
Tick
Hmm. That's odd. I can almost sense...
I think they must be late with this dose. I'm feeling slightly less dead than usual.
Wow. The almighty Psi Corps? Late? Hah. This is too good. Wish Bester were here so I could laugh in his ugly face.
Maybe he is here. Somewhere.
Can't tell. Damn.
But my talents... they're definitely coming back. Bet I could drop the guards outside. After, of course, I convince them to unlock the door.
No luck. I'll give it a few minutes.
Dammit, Kosh, I know you guys improved my recovery skills, but couldn't you have made them just a little quicker?
Sorry. Shouldn't have thought that.
Kosh.
You left me here to this. All of you. I begged you to take me with you, but you didn't even look back, damn you, you didn't even look back once...
God. Kosh. I miss him. Almost as much as I miss--
Definitely not thinking about that either.
Let's experiment, though. Just a little push--
Stupid chair is too heavy. Unbelievable. I have enough power within me to throw the thing across the room and it's all shut down. Can't even make it budge.
I'll give it time.
I have so much time.
Wait.
Wait.
Try it again.
It moved this time. Actually moved.
I moved the chair.
I'd do a silly little happy dance of celebration, but I think that would require far too much effort. For now, I'll just sit up.
Ack. Head's swimming again.
Okay, so I'll sit up later.
Sitting up is overrated anyway.
Powers are definitely coming back. I'm probably up to about P5 strength again. Enough to make a decent block and scan the area.
Very inconspicuously, of course.
God. It feels so terribly bland out there. They're like zombies, brainwashed and dry-cleaned zombies, all broadcasting:
THE CORPS IS MOTHER THE CORPS IS FATHER
at the top of their minds. Jesus.
Enough to drive a person crazy.
Hah. So I am going crazy.
God, get me out of here.
Hmm.
Who is that?
Coming this way. To me. To my cell. Definitely coming towards my cell. Who is it out there? Hello?
Someone outside my door. Must be my rescue party.
Yeah, that's it.
Viva la resistance.
Wait
No.
No, please, not again.
(Was I just pleading? Jesus, I'll never forgive myself for that)
You bastards. Not again. For the first time in God-knows-how-long I was actually awake, and now you...
Don't you dare...
Get the hell away from me
GET AWAY FROM ME
Ow.
Ow.
That hurt
Stupid sleepers
Oh well. Back to sleep.
To sleep, perchance to dream...
Ow. Quoting Hamlet was always Byron's thing.
Ow.
Nighty night.