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    © 2004 Andrew Dormeier
Artemus shot up like a rocket in his bed. Sweat was pouring down his face and his chest was sickly sweet from the smell. He swung his feet over the side of the bed and leaned over. Getting up, he touched a wall panel to turn on the main room lights along the edges of the ceiling. His restroom was adjacent to his bedroom, on the right side of his bed. He walked over to the sink and splashed water on his reddened face. As he stared into his own face in the mirror, he sighed heavily. He undressed and climbed into the shower.
The bridge was quiet. The lights were 90% dimmer than usual to trick the body into thinking it was still on planetary cycles. Falinor was sitting at his console tweaking instruments and running system analysis scans. The gentle orange glow from the nebula washed over the bridge, casting long, soft shadows over the equipment and grating. The door on the back port-side wall slid open and Sol walked in. He stood as a figure surrounded by the light from the open hatch behind him. As the door slid closed the bridge returned to its slumber, machines humming in the background. "Don't you ever sleep, Falinor?" Artemus asked. "You know my rest habits, Sol," Falinor replied as he swiveled his chair around and leaned back. "Just teasing." "Having troubles sleeping?" "Some bad dreams; leftovers from my trip to Denten central." "Ah. It's incredible you got out of there alive." "Had I known just what I had fallen into, I likely would have been petrified with fear." "You weren't though. You kept your cool and survived." The room went quiet for several moments. Small colored lights on various panels around the bridge added sharp pinpricks of light to the soft orange radiance of the nebula. "Sometimes I wonder; I wonder if I will ever be able to stand up to one of them. I've never fought anything above a Vis." "That Vis had a fairly high quadra level, and was a Raytok, a weapons specialist." "He gave me a run for my money, and he was only a Vis, a level two. There are seven levels after that, not counting the True Bloods! How am I supposed to fight this, this, this war!? I don't know Falinor, sometimes it seems hopeless." Artemus sat down behind the guardrail on the upper level and let his feet hang half a kupo above the grating. His dark wet hair reflected the orange glow of the nebula gases. "Nothing is hopeless," Falinor said. "Perhaps it is not our destiny to destroy the Denten. Certainly it is far too great a goal for any one man to achieve. Do not take on unnecessary burdens." "I suppose you are right. I just feel. well, if we can't win, why bother?" |
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