I wasn't supposed to start this until Lucky 7 was done, but I was having writer's block with that one, and then suddenly the first chapter of this appeared. Whoops. It's basically Memento Mori again but with a character switch, and you know, not awful. I hope you like it alright.
It was the same dream again. Every night I watched it play out, unable to change anything. I'd seen it so many times I knew it was a dream from the moment Kei yelled that we were under attack.
"They've hit out ammunition storage on the port side!" Yattaran followed as always. "If that goes up, we're sunk."
"The automatic systems will take care of the fires," Harlock said from the helm. Even with the flurry of different alarms going off, he appeared calm. Ships and fighters swarmed around us on radar. It was a hopeless fight, the stuff of nightmares. Even as I sat there, knowing it was a dream, I still felt sick. My palms sweat in my gloves.
I hated sitting there, not doing anything. I was supposed to be helping out, though I couldn't think of how. The station I sat at wasn't mine. It never had been. But there I was, tapping my fingers and bouncing my knee as every bit of my body screamed for me to go where I belonged. I just didn't know where that was.
The battle seemed to fall apart in front of me, the bridge crew reduced to yelling every gut-wrenching update. I'd seen this nightmare play out dozens of times, enough to know something was coming. It was like a black, swirling cloud looming on the horizon. I wanted to wake up, though I couldn't remember why. For all the times I'd played my part in this dream, I couldn't recall its end.
"Third cannon's down," Kei said, fear creeping into her voice. "It's taken too much damage."
Harlock's grip tightened against the wheel before he tossed us into a sharp turn. I gripped the console to keep from tumbling out of my chair as we slammed into one of the ships. It felt like an earthquake. The ship rattled and screeched around us.
"Reroute power to the turrets and secondary cannon," Harlock commanded. "Someone tell me the status of our heating system. The gauge is reading too hot even for a battle."
I didn't need a gauge to tell me that. Despite the heat we sent out through each cannon blast, the bridge was sweltering. I felt like I was sitting in a pool of my own sweat, and everyone else's face shone with it.
"There must be some sort of malfunction," Yattaran hissed. "I can't get the automatic controls to respond. There are valves to release the heat manually, but they're in the energy control room. I'll get someone from engineering to-"
"I'll get it!" I cried, jumping to my feet. "Let me run down there!"
A dozen and one eyes all looked my way, narrowed under furrowed brows. I'd never seen the bridge crew so adamantly disapprove of me before, and I'd been outed as a traitor to them.
But this me felt different, wrong. I wasn't certain the eyes I looked through were mine. After all, I had vision in both in this dream, and I had no control over what I said or did. The whims of the dream led me.
As the crew's eyes held me, another hit tore through us. We held tight to whatever we could grab until the tremors of impact eased. "Take your communicator and run as fast as you can," Harlock barked my way as he righted himself. His eye blazed with fury, betraying his calm mask. He was getting desperate.
"Captain-!" Kei attempted, but I was already racing for the lift. She would try to stop me, and I couldn't allow that.
The main floor looked like Hell. Flames licked at the air from busted circuitry. I dipped and weaved around them, sprinting for the ship's bow. My lungs burned from the smoke and every gasping breath, but nothing slowed me down. I was flying.
The door to the main energy reactor appeared in a blink. I couldn't wait for it to slide open, slipping in once the crack was wide enough to sidle through. Once inside, a wall of heat greeted me. The temperature on the bridge was nothing compared to this. All around me, the air blurred and swam. I felt as though I was trying to breathe through a straw, sucking in quick gasps of the thinned air. A high-pitched scream emitted from the energy reactor, red-hot from trying to keep up with our demands.
Still, I ran. Mercifully, the energy control room felt a few degrees cooler, despite the pipes screaming like the reactor. I didn't frequent this room, but the valves were clear to me, shining red wheels sitting on the pipes. I grabbed one in each hand, the heat sharp even through my gloves. It was then I noticed the gloves were white for the first time, unlike the brown ones I always wore. Though it was my first time noticing in this dream, I realized I'd seen those white gloves so many times before. Then I remembered everything. As always, the white of those gloves was the trigger for the end.
I tried to run as the memories flooded my mind, but my hands kept turning the screeching wheels. My feet stayed planted. I couldn't even scream as the pipes erupted in front of me. Waves of fire rolled over my skin. My vision was nothing but white.
At least I could scream when I woke, and I always did. I cut off the yell as quickly as I could, jamming my knuckles between my teeth. My vision was black now as I took in the slight outlines of my room. The stars outside my window provided some light but not enough.
I wiped sweat from my face as I stood. It was no use. I was drenched. The back of my shirt was soaked through, sticking to my skin. Like a drunk, I stumbled to the light switch. The dehydration was always the worst of it. I needed water more than air.
After washing my face in my room's sink and downing enough water to make myself sick, I stripped my bed and headed to the washroom. I could have tried to go back to sleep, and I had tried many times. But even if I managed to fall back asleep, the dream returned. It was a good night when I could manage four hours of sleep.
After tossing my sheets in a washer, I stood in a long, cold shower. I wondered if the exhaustion might wash away if I stood there long enough.
It never did.
From there, I dressed and dumped my sheets in a dryer. The ship was a ghost town tonight. Some nights the men would stay up drinking, but now the endless halls seemed empty. With the lighting turned down to its lowest setting, every room had black holes for shadows. Being alone in the dark may have frightened me had I been fully conscious, but at that point I was too tired to care.
Occasionally I saw a glimpse of someone else sneaking around the halls along with me – Miime, I assumed. She never did sleep, but I only caught glimpses as she rounded a corner or a soft echo of footsteps. For all I knew, it could have been hallucinations from the lack of sleep. It was yet another thing I couldn't bring myself to be concerned about.
If nothing else, the endless quiet of the late night hours did give me time to work in my greenhouse without bother. At least, it was as much of a greenhouse as the makeshift lab could hope to be. Harlock allowed me to clean out the unused room and fill it with a miniature scale of my old greenhouses. I had so many rows of shelves and carts filled with sprouts that moving around the room was a game of balance and skill. One wrong move and a few dozen seedlings could come tumbling down. That was the reason I didn't usually allow for visitors.
That, and my incessant chatting with the plants. Mom said talking to the plants helped them grow, and maybe it did, but most of my haze of conversation now stemmed from a lack of sleep. I'd mutter endlessly to them about the dream and how much I hated washing my sheets all the time. The other men had taken notice of my trips to the washing room, and their tirade of crude jokes could not be stopped.
It was nice to be alone while I worked, away from all of them for a while. Being stuck in the cramped quarters of the ship with so many people could grate on my nerves at times. My plants were simpler company. Time passed me by while I checked chemical compositions and examined growing patterns. My poor plants appeared confused by the presence of dark matter, and their growing cycles were all over the place despite the sun lamps. It was something I'd spent weeks looking into.
My muttering on the evils of our generator was cut short when the door behind me slid open. I turned in my chair to find Harlock sidling around one of the stands. He appeared to think better of trying to traverse the rest and halted a few paces from the door.
"Morning," I said through a yawn.
He dipped his head in greeting, his arms crossed. "You missed breakfast again." He was never much for chit-chat.
I glanced at my monitor to find it was already past ten. As if my stomach had just noticed as well, a pang of hunger ate at my insides. "Huh," I said. "I'll make sure to get lunch." My body was so focused on the need for sleep that eating became a secondary concern. My eyes ached with exhaustion, and it must have been written clear across my face. I didn't have the energy to try hiding it.
"I know you're very invested in taking care of these plants, but you should allow yourself adequate sleep," Harlock said. "Exhaustion may damage your ability in a battle. You can't lead a raid team in that condition." His lectures were always calm. It was more like being patted on the head and told no than an actual scolding.
As he spoke, I let my arms drape over the back of the chair and rested my chin on the ridge. "I've just been having some trouble sleeping," I admitted. "Can't seem to stay asleep for long."
He gave a nod. "You may be having trouble adapting to the lack of proper sunlight. Being on a ship does confuse your circadian rhythm. It's not an uncommon issue."
"It's messing up the plants' sleep cycles too," I grumbled, reaching over to brush my finger down a protruding leaf. I didn't think the lack of sunlight was as much of an issue for me as it was for them.
A moment's confusion crossed Harlock's features before he continued. "The doctor does have sleeping pills. You may want to try them." He must have seen me cringe. "It doesn't have to be for long, just long enough to convince your body to rest."
"I just hate taking drugs," I sighed. After the explosion, Ezra and I seemed to live off whatever they pumped into our systems. As if the side effects weren't bad enough, I went through a slight withdrawal when I stopped taking the painkillers. I didn't want a repeat of that.
"I understand, but we need you ready and able in any situation. Preparation includes meals as well. Your plants are looking very nice, but don't kill yourself taking care of them." He offered me a smile that I twitchily returned. As he continued with something about the importance of my position on the ship and being a proper man, I found my eye glazing over. My shoulders drooped as I sank down in the chair. Every muscle seemed to relax on its own. All this talk of sleep was getting to me.
I saw Harlock's mouth moving, but I dozed along to the tune of his speech. When I first joined the crew, I thought he was the type who only spoke when it was absolutely necessary, but I found he would prattle on endlessly when given the right topic, with various metaphors thrown in for good measure.
"And that's why we're going to fly directly into the sun," he concluded.
I blinked, raising my head to stare at him.
Once again, a smile eased onto his face, his eye shining. Oh, it was a joke. It was still so strange to hear jokes from him. "Get some rest when you can, Yama," he said. "You can come by my cabin for drinks tonight if you'd like. The alcohol might knock you out."
The offer was tempting. I couldn't hold my alcohol worth a damn, and I'd probably embarrass myself in the process, but I was willing to try anything at this point. "I might," I sighed. "I still have some more tests to finish up for now."
He gave a final nod and slipped out with a lazy wave. I tossed my hand up in return, even if it was just to his back. Once the door closed behind him, I spun back around in my chair. It seemed the turn was too quick for my sleep-deprived eyes, as the whole room tilted and swirled for the span of a few blinks. I sighed as the blur dissipated. It seemed exhaustion had me feeling drunk now. The more I tapped away at my computer and rolled my chair to each plant's position, the more I seemed to be swimming through fog. I felt so heavy I was impressed my arms would still raise at my command. My head felt stuffed with cotton until a sharp ache shot through it. I needed to go lie down.
The pain in my head multiplied to a constant throbbing as I pulled myself to my feet, leaning on the nearest table. My legs wobbled beneath me, my breath coming in short gasps. I felt as though I had to drag thoughts to the front of my mind, but I knew well enough to understand something was wrong.
Staggering along the table's edge, I pulled myself to the door. I felt as though my bones turned to liquid, and my legs refused to hold me up as I slammed into the door. My shoulder now throbbed along with my head from the impact against the metal.
Strange. It should have opened on its own.
I managed to stay on my knees long enough to see the red light shining from the keypad. Someone had locked the door, a door that could only be locked from the inside. And someone other than me had locked it.
I found myself on the floor, black swirling at the edges of my vision. I seemed to be falling down an endless tunnel as my sight faded. Someone stepped up to my side and nudged a boot against my ribs. I tried to ask them for help, but I could only gasp for air. My hand drifted up toward their white glove. It was all I could see until my pinpricks of sight vanished altogether.
Wow, I mutter sarcastically, I wonder who it could be.