- Joined
- Dec 24, 2017
- Messages
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Drip, drip, drip..
The sound of water falling from the ceiling one drop at a time was the only sound he’d heard for months. Or at least Kharn had thought it had been months. Truth be told, inside the ten by ten box that he’d learned to call home, time was hard to keep track of.
For what seemed like the billionth time, his watery blue and eternally bloodshot eyes flicked to the door of his cell. It was at least a foot thick and made of durasteel. It had to have been durasteel with how many times Kharn had broken his hands futilely pounding on it, begging for anyone to just let him out.
Sometimes he wondered if this was the afterlife. Maybe, somehow, he’d done enough bad in his life to deserve an eternal punishment like this. Machines gave him food and water. Well, technically it was food he supposed. Some kind of gray nutrient paste from a hose on the wall. Delivered three times daily.
Part of him wished for the fiery hellscape of an afterlife for lost souls that some of the galaxy’s religions talked about.
At least there he’d be able to hear something other than the methodical dripping of water from the ceiling. At least there he’d feel something other than the blinding fluorescent lights slowly burning away his corneas
At least there he wouldn’t be alone.
Kharn turned his eyes back to the ceiling. That door was never going to open. He knew that. Kharn was going to live in this square prison cell for the rest of his life, however long that might have been.
The intrusive thoughts made their return, now. Kharn had managed to keep the worst of them at bay up until now, but it got harder and harder every day. He didn’t have to live like this, did he? He didn’t have to live like some sort of caged animal abandoned by its owner, unwanted and long forgotten, right?
He didn’t have to live...
A new sound, much louder than the drips. An electronic thrum that crescendoed rapidly and then cooled off to a low groaning death rattle before fading away. The lights went out.
Darkness, pure and absolute.
Drip, drip, drip..
Auxiliary power. Some of the lights return but they are dim. The sounds of a dozen large durasteel doors sliding open - automatic emergency protocols. It took almost a minute for Kharn to accept what he was seeing as true. He just sat upright in his bed, staring out of the open door.
Eventually Kharn’s feet touched the floor and he started walking. He had no idea where he was going but it didn’t matter. The weight pulled off of his chest the instant he passed the threshold of his cell was only matched by the horror his eyes bore witness to when he passed through a set of double doors at the end of the hallway.
Keeping what wits he could manage, Kharn found a terminal that luckily still had some access to the emergency systems. In another life, Kharn had been a fairly decent slicer. He found what he was looking for before too long.
He was able to open one of the hanger bays. A distress beacon pulsed from the station into the inky void of space. It was on an open channel, one that could reach as many people as theoretically possible. Hidden within the signal was also the coordinates, somewhere in the far flung recesses of Wild Space.
In a way, it was like Kharn himself was yelling out for anyone, anywhere to help him.
Someone had to hear it. Someone had to come.
Drip, drip, drip..
The sound of water falling from the ceiling one drop at a time was the only sound he’d heard for months. Or at least Kharn had thought it had been months. Truth be told, inside the ten by ten box that he’d learned to call home, time was hard to keep track of.
For what seemed like the billionth time, his watery blue and eternally bloodshot eyes flicked to the door of his cell. It was at least a foot thick and made of durasteel. It had to have been durasteel with how many times Kharn had broken his hands futilely pounding on it, begging for anyone to just let him out.
Sometimes he wondered if this was the afterlife. Maybe, somehow, he’d done enough bad in his life to deserve an eternal punishment like this. Machines gave him food and water. Well, technically it was food he supposed. Some kind of gray nutrient paste from a hose on the wall. Delivered three times daily.
Part of him wished for the fiery hellscape of an afterlife for lost souls that some of the galaxy’s religions talked about.
At least there he’d be able to hear something other than the methodical dripping of water from the ceiling. At least there he’d feel something other than the blinding fluorescent lights slowly burning away his corneas
At least there he wouldn’t be alone.
Kharn turned his eyes back to the ceiling. That door was never going to open. He knew that. Kharn was going to live in this square prison cell for the rest of his life, however long that might have been.
The intrusive thoughts made their return, now. Kharn had managed to keep the worst of them at bay up until now, but it got harder and harder every day. He didn’t have to live like this, did he? He didn’t have to live like some sort of caged animal abandoned by its owner, unwanted and long forgotten, right?
He didn’t have to live...
A new sound, much louder than the drips. An electronic thrum that crescendoed rapidly and then cooled off to a low groaning death rattle before fading away. The lights went out.
Darkness, pure and absolute.
Drip, drip, drip..
Auxiliary power. Some of the lights return but they are dim. The sounds of a dozen large durasteel doors sliding open - automatic emergency protocols. It took almost a minute for Kharn to accept what he was seeing as true. He just sat upright in his bed, staring out of the open door.
Eventually Kharn’s feet touched the floor and he started walking. He had no idea where he was going but it didn’t matter. The weight pulled off of his chest the instant he passed the threshold of his cell was only matched by the horror his eyes bore witness to when he passed through a set of double doors at the end of the hallway.
Keeping what wits he could manage, Kharn found a terminal that luckily still had some access to the emergency systems. In another life, Kharn had been a fairly decent slicer. He found what he was looking for before too long.
He was able to open one of the hanger bays. A distress beacon pulsed from the station into the inky void of space. It was on an open channel, one that could reach as many people as theoretically possible. Hidden within the signal was also the coordinates, somewhere in the far flung recesses of Wild Space.
In a way, it was like Kharn himself was yelling out for anyone, anywhere to help him.
Someone had to hear it. Someone had to come.
Drip, drip, drip..
Thread is death enabled. DM post will be every 48 hours. Tag @Logan in your posts please. Also, have spooky fun!
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