#command hallucinations

[schizopositivity]

I love you people with command hallucinations

you will have your whole heart and soul believing something, the voice of god demanding you do something, and still your common sense and care for others prevails

thats true strength right there and Im proud of you

[ineffablejaymee]

kaminoans, advertising their clones like some kind of laundry detergent: we have created the perfect soldiers to fight your war, they are smart, capable, obedient and durable. you will not find better men to fill your army

obiwan, watching as cody and rex are trying to stop wolffe from biting bly, who hides begind ponds, as fox contemplates if its possible for him to drown in his coffe: s u r e

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

Charles Bonnet syndrome refers to the visual hallucinations caused by the brain’s adjustment to significant vision loss

[sun-roach]

<Why don’t you take your bucket off, Fox? We are here to drink.>

Bly.

How long has it been? It must be over a year now. Seeing him…

Fox hadn’t expected Bly to contact him, especially not for a night out at 79's.

All this time there was nothing but silence from his little brother. Messages were never answered or simply forgotten.

At one point Fox had given up to reach him. Or anyone else of his batch.

He had told himself over and over again the reports of his brothers would be enough for him.

It is for the best.

Now Ponds is dead.

He will never see his brother again. Never see his gentle smile again or hear his complaints about them all being di'kuts.

The hole Ponds has left in his heart, is filled with grief, fear and sorrow. There are no words that could describe how much he misses him.

Guilt still has it’s hands around his cold, hollow heart, pulling on his heartstrings, whenever he thinks about his lost vod'ika.

The Corrie commander doesn’t want to repeat his mistake. He doesn’t want to let his batch go. He wants to see them. Listen to them. Just be with them again.

Yet Fox knows that he will never be close with them again. The things that had happened, the things he had done and will do… They are all unforgivable.

Bly's frown takes him out of his mind, reminding that his brother had spoken to him.

Take your bucket off.

He won’t. He can’t. No one should see his horrendous face ever again.

Fox slightly tilts his head and crosses his arms in front of his chest. A defense mechanism he had picked up during his years as a cadet on Kamino.

<I can’t. Regulations.>

The short answer doesn’t seem to sit well with the younger marshal commander. Brown eyes fill with concern and something Fox can only describe as distrust.

It shouldn’t hurt this much.

He understands why his brother would lose his trust in him. The Coruscant Guards are viewed as arrogant, lucky beings, sitting all day doing nothing but reading reports or walking around, helping those Senators, who decide about the war and their lives. And Fox is the head of the Corries. He is the worst. Which is probably the only truth of it all.

<Fox. You are off duty. Come on. Take it off. I haven’t seen you for so long. I missed you, Ori'vod.>

Ori'vod

Ori’vod

Ori'-…vod

-…vod

Fox blinks. Big brown, teary eyes stare up at him. Tiny hands clench around his arm, seeking comfort.

It’s so bright. So blurry.

Why is he here? Why is he back on Kamino?

The curly haired commander blinks again. His blacks suddenly feel wet around his shoulders. A head lies against him.

Alarmed and out of reflex Fox stretches his hand out to hold the boy against him tighter.

The boy?

Fox ignores the rumble in his head. Ignores the cold embracing him.

Shadows dance around the corners of his bloodshed eyes, mocking him.

He ignores it. There is something more important right next to him.

<I am too weak… They are all right. I am a crybaby.>

Fox's heart stutters. Air leaves his lungs as if someone had punched him. His arms wrap tighter around the kid, hands patting his back to ground him.

<You are not. Bly. You are not. You are strong and smart. I know you. You can trust me when I say you will be one of the best of us.>

Soothing little whispers escape his lips. It takes a while for little Bly to calm down.

As soon as his little brother has, he loosens his grip. Bly steps back and smiles hopeful.

<You really think that?>

Before the older can reply, something glitches in front of him. His vision becomes blurrier, the shadows grow. They are whispering something. Words he can’t understand.

Fox takes a look around. His heart starts to speed up as he realizes something: There is no exit. Why is there no exit? Where is the door?!

He turns back to his little brother. He hadn’t noticed that he had stepped completely away from him. Bly was right in front of him just a second ago! Now he is at the very end of a stretched out, blurry hall.

Warm brown eyes stare at him. Innocent, full of concern and… fear. Oh kriff he looks so afraid.

<Bly- >

<Stay away!!! You killed them!!!! It’s your fault!!! You are going to kill us all!!!>

Fox chokes, his eyes widen. He shouldn’t know. He can’t know. He can’t!!!

<You are a monster!!! This is all your fault!!! The Kaminoans should have gotten rid of you!>

He can’t breathe. His heart hurts so bitterly, overshadowing the pulsing pain in his head, crushing any logical thought that would try to come up.

<Gedet'ye… Bly- >

Another glitch. Bly is back in his arms crying and clenching on to him. He blinks in confusion for a moment, just to hug him tight against his chest, trying to calm his sprinting heart.

<Gedet'ye… Bly… gedet'ye.>

Bly doesn’t answer. He only looks up with a dark unnerving grin, causing Fox to flinch and drop him. For a moment Bly had Palpati-

<Ori'vod~ >

A dark voice cackles around him. Invisible hands push him down on his knees and the next second he looks up, he sees his brother, his so warm and affectionate brother, staring coldly at him pointing two guns at him.

Even trough the blur Fox can see his brother's hands shaking.

Black curly hair falls messily over his eyes as he shakes his head. No. NO!

This will happen if you fail, Tennnhtennn.

Palpatine’s voice echoes trough his head. His gut curls, his hands clench into the mushy white floor.

<Gedet'ye… gedet'ye!!! Bly don- >

<Dew it!>

A shot rings in his ear. The floor suddenly disappears and he falls. He falls and falls. And falls.

Shadows dance around him, darken his vision-

His whole body shakes. The air feels thinner. Richer. A little warmer.

Confusion-Concern-Distrust. Bly. Bly. Bly. Bly.

Fox opens his eyes again. He has to blink several times and focus to orientate himself back again.

79's. Right. Bly invited him. They wanted to drink. They are sitting across from each other at their usual table. He is in his armor. Bly can't see his face. He will never see his face. Never again.

The same frown from before is still plastered on Bly's face. He seems to have waited for something. Did he want an answer? How long was he gone? Was he gone? Did that happen? Was it real? Is this real?

<Fox if you don’t want to hangout with me anymore… that’s okay. I am sorry for calling you. You probably have better things to do.>

Whatever had happened earlier, Bly hadn’t noticed anything of it.

His heart screams to correct the younger. Screams to tell him how much he had like to hangout with him again.

Yet his fear is stronger. The Chancellor’s voice louder.

<Gedet'ye… Bly. Gedet'ye vod'ika. Forget me.>

<Are you… alright? Fox? Fox where are you going?!>

Fox shakes his head. He bites his lower lip and forces his body to be as straight and stiff as possible. He can’t show his trembling. He can't show his pain. Bly has to forget him. He deserves better. Far, far better.

He can't let Bly fall into Palpatine’s hands. Never.

He has to work harder. He has to survive. As long as he is alive his batch will be safe. His Corries will be safe.

The shadows around him hum in agreement as he disappears back into the dark.

Gedet'ye Bly… Forget me. Survive.

[zapsoda]

best girl compilation

[whump-me-all-night-long]

The Kind Commander

AI-less Whumptober Day 3: Isolation

Masterlist

TWs: military whump, multiple whumpees, isolation, sensory deprivation, noncon drugging, hallucinations

---

Not long after Captain Hawk left Lex and Isaac, some more Skoaxian soldiers came in, roughly undoing the chains from their ankles and yanking them to their feet.

Lex grunted softly as Isaac yanked against one of his soldiers. “Do I look like I’m in any shape to run right now?” he snapped and Lex winced. All that got Isaac was a cuff on his head and an even tighter grip on his arms.

Lex kept his mouth closed as they were harshly led out of the tent and into what appeared to be the heart of Camp Ironglass. 

People were bustling all around them, not just soldiers, but cooks and butchers, carpenters and smiths, washerwomen and seamstresses. Lex thought he could even hear the distant, cheerful screams of children from across the camp. As the soldiers led them through the camp, Lex noticed people stopping to stare at them. He saw faces twist into frowns and bodies stiffen; for a reason he couldn’t quite explain, his face suddenly felt hot and he hung his head, letting his hair fall across his gaze.

How many? Lex wondered silently. How many people here knew people that I have killed? Are their mothers or fathers, sisters or brothers, lovers, friends, children, even? Are they here?

Before Lex’s mind could wander too far down that dark hole, the guards were leading them towards a small building on the outskirts of the semi-permanent camp. As he laid eyes on it, Lex’s legs involuntarily locked up, causing one of the soldiers to stumble and glare at him.

“No,” Lex muttered under his breath.

“Oh, yes,” the soldier he’d tripped replied with a smirk before tugging him forward.

The Skoaxians were infamous for their ruthless warcraft strategies, and one of the most well-known were their isolation chambers. Lex shuddered as he remembered the blank eyes of one survivor of the chambers when he was still a fresh recruit. Those empty eyes had haunted his nightmares for weeks afterwards.

A few feet away, Isaac was also starting to struggle against his own guards, and it was only then that Lex noticed how deserted this part of the camp was.

Growing resigned to his fate, Lex let the soldiers drag him forward, down an incredibly short hallway before putting him in one chamber and Isaac in the one across from him. 

The whole building was incredibly damp, with an unnatural breeze sending shivers down Lex’s spine. The only light was filtered thinly from the outer door, and, once the cell door—a solid metal thing, with only a tiny slot that could be locked from the outside—there was no light at all. Lex couldn’t even see his own hand from a few inches away from his eyes.

Carefully stretching out his arms, Lex repeated Bray’s words of wisdom quietly: Know your surroundings. Based on what he could feel, the isolation chamber was really only about five feet by five feet; the entirety of the walls were made of the same thick, impenetrable metal as the door, muffling all sound except for the barest hint of a whisper-like sound every now and then. There was absolutely nothing inside, except for a small metal bucket, which Lex flushed at the thought of. 

Slowly settling his back against one of the far corners, he kept an eye on the door- or, at least, where he thought the door was. Honestly, the chambers were made so skillfully that he couldn’t even really tell where the door and wall met, that’s how seamless they were.

Wrapping his arms around himself, Lex set to staring into the darkness, quickly losing hope that he’d be able to withstand the isolation and sensory deprivation.

-

It could have been a matter of minutes or hours, but soon enough, Lex started seeing things.

The darkness started playing tricks on him, making him see movement out of the corner of his eyes. He would whip his head around, trying to follow it, only for it to disappear seconds later.

Soon after, it was his ears that betrayed him. He couldn’t tell if he was actually hearing voices, or if the voice in his head had grown deafeningly loud. 

Lex let out a soft groan, squeezing his eyes shut—no, that didn’t stop the phantom movements—and pressing his hands over his ears to the point of pain.

How long can I do this?

-

At some point, food appeared in the slot. All it was was a stale chunk of bread and a small cup of lukewarm water. 

As much as Lex’s sandpaper-like throat begged him to drink the whole thing, Lex made himself take only a few small sips before attempting to eat the bread.

Who knows how long they’ll go in between giving me more water? The last thing I need is to die of dehydration.

After eating what he estimated to be about half the bread, Lex set it to the side with a sigh, allowing himself another small sip, noting how the water tasted vaguely metallic.

Eyes widening, Lex let the cup thud on the ground. 

Shit.

-

Lex wasn’t quite sure what the drug was that they were lacing the water with, but whatever it was was incredibly powerful. And putting it in the water made it unavoidable; although, to be fair, Lex didn’t know how long he could go without eating, especially if the food were to be sitting right in front of him.

At first, the drug only seemed to amplify the tricks his brain was already: creating shadow and colors in the corners of his eyes, causing him to hear phantom voices, giving the darkness a physical weight that seemed to press down on Lex until he felt as if he was suffocating.

But, after what Lex estimated to be a half dozen “meals”—although he had no clue what that translated into days—it was as if the drug had grown more powerful. 

Now, Lex was seeing full-fledged shadow creatures prowling towards him, reaching out with wickedly sharp claws and teeth. He was hearing distinct voices: those of Bray, his mom, his dad, Isaac, the rest of his squad. They were calling for him, begging him to save them, screaming in agony.

Most of his time, now, Lex spent curled up in the corner, making himself as small as possible, with his eyes squeezed shut and his hands clamped over his ears, nails digging into his skin and carving throbbing crescents.

After an eternity, stuck in his own silent hell, Lex heard… something. He lifted his head, hands falling down to curl protectively in front of his chest, eyes wide and bewildered.

Slowly, so slowly Lex thought he may actually have finally lost it, the metal door groaned and creaked, until a sliver of light was visible.

Hissing, Lex looked away, his eyes having grown used to the total darkness, as a familiar pair of boots stopped in front of him.

“Let’s have a chat now, shall we?” Captain Hawk said, and Lex could hear the smirk in his voice.

---

Taglist: @ailesswhumptober @theelvishcowgirl @misspelledwitch @i-eat-worlds @shywhumpauthor @the-dump-of-whump @cypher-antiquity

[beinggayisreallyexpensive]

In my Jeanne d'Arc era

[guardian-instincts-bad]

and the finished version of my moroleth art!

decided to keep this one fairly simple, but enjoy some pensive art of my queer punk former nightmare former aetherblade eventual sylvari commander (he/they, kid has such a history), post a rotsap attack that left him chronically (and visibly) ill for several years

[x-ladydisdain-x]

skylines and turnstiles / maya the psychic

[fanfic-obsessed]

Do you dream?

This is an offshoot of  Perchance to dream. While I highly recommend reading it, because I think it is neat (as the writer), I will summarize it here. The gist is that what we know as canon, starting roughly when council goes to confront Darth Sidious (though the timeline does not match exactly to reality) is a shared hallucination of the Jedi council, caused by a chemical weapon created by the separatists (which has been calibrated, using the Jedi councils’ DNA, to only affect the Jedi council).  In this Palpatine is not a Sith, rather he is exactly what he portrays himself in canon. 

In this variation the creators of the weapon make mistakes in how it was formulated. The first mistake is that it does not drag the victim quite as deep into the hallucination, in that they can interact with the real world, however they will disbelieve or not perceive anything that contradicts the world in the hallucination. The more important and far reaching mistake is that they did not restrict who was affected quite like they thought. The Jedi council was affected, to be sure, but so was roughly 80% of the galaxy and not all groups were affected equally.  There did not seem to be any rhyme nor reason to who was affected or not.  

90% of the senate was affected by the weapon, it should be noted that both Sheev Palpatine and Padme Amidala were not.  The GAR was affected at 75% of the clones not stationed on Coruscant, though only 3% of the Coruscant Guard were affected (Most of this is more horror than funny but I just want you to picture this: Random Separatist Leader: You created a chemical weapon that only affects people based on their genetic code. Scientist: …Yes. Random Separatist Leader: And it is affecting roughly 70-75% of a group of genetically identical clones. Scientist, slumping: Yes. Random Separatist Leader:How? Scientist, wailing: we don’t know!!!), every battalion has clones affected. Of the Jedi, something like 97% is affected (Because the original intent was specifically for Jedi ), including all of the council (Anakin is not affected, though Ahsoka is). The highest ranked Jedi, by experience and title, unaffected were Jocasta Nu, Depa Billaba, Bant Eerin, Aayla Secura, and Anakin Skywalker. Most of the rest of the unaffected were padawans, initiates, and younglings. 

It will only be looking back that anyone will be able to pinpoint the first indication that something is wrong. It is a simple thing, the Rodian senator mentions the ‘New Emperor’ to several of his fellows. Most of the room nods or responds, knowing what he was talking about. A few look at each other, confused but ignored. 

Before we fully look at the horror, consider this. Here Sheev Palpatine does not want to be an Emperor.  He was actually looking forward to retiring, to becoming a consultant where he could have all the influence and none of the responsibilities. Now 90% of the senate is sure he is an emperor (a human centric, misogynistic, bigot at that) and ignoring anything and anyone who tries to protest otherwise. He is being forced, largely against his will, to be an all powerful emperor who can’t actually do anything that is not based in pure evil because the afflicted will ignore it. 

There is much confusion.  We will get back to the effects of that confusion in just a moment. 

Within the hallucination Order 66 goes out. Though there are signs that something was wrong earlier they are not nearly as wide spread. This, then becomes the most defining moment of the new era. 75% of the clones, not stationed on Coruscant, fall under the control of a chip that does not actually exist. To the utter horror of the unaffected clones, the afflicted clones open fire on any Jedi present (no matter who they might have been firing at in canon). Countless Jedi survived because they fell comatose at the same time, killed within the hallucination. Handfuls of clones that otherwise would have survived died at the hands of their brothers, who were trying to protect the vulnerable Jedi. 

The 501st never marched on the temple, their battalion fell below the average with only 47% affected and without Vader to lead them, they are able to subdue the affected before it happens. However, the comatose Jedi cover every surface of the temple and for a bit it is believed that some sort of sleeping sickness afflicted the Jedi while most of  the rest of the galaxy went insane. 

The separatists are not excluded. They match the 80% affliction rate of the rest of the galaxy. Most of the leadership that is afflicted also fall comatose (read die in the hallucination). Even amongst the scientists who created the weapon (roughly 100-200 beings depending on when in development we are talking about) about 20% fell to the effects.  The remaining scientists try for 6 months on their own to reverse the effects without success.

All the while the galaxy has largely turned itself into an oppressive empire, built a rebellion (that is being secretly supported by the Emperor himself), and is both tearing itself apart and gluing itself together at the same time.  Various non affected beings, who would have died in the first few months of the empire, watch as the people they love mourn them.  More than one unaffected Senators, up to and including Palpatine, see the way a number of so called respectable beings in power act when they are given free reign (case in point, Tarkin) and are horrified.  And for those first six months no one can figure out what was going on. It is called an illness, a madness.  

Roughly 80% of the galaxy believe themselves to be part of an empire and are unable to perceive anything that would break the illusion (Anakin becomes largely reclusive, as they react as if he is Vader and he can’t take the pulse of fear when anyone afflicted sees him).  A new government has to be built, staffed by the non afflicted and weaved around the hallucination. They are building blind as within the hallucination the human rights violations start to appear and grow exponentially.   

14 months in, Jocasta Nu finds a way to access the hallucination, an old mind based force technique.  It works in that she is able to convey what had happened, what was happening within the hallucination. It failed in that she, having been dead in the hallucination, fell comatose. No one was willing to risk anyone else. In particular Anakin, as the non afflicted were afraid that Anakin would fall to Vader. They could not risk it. 

Cody, who had been afflicted, woke from the hallucination after 2 years. It was only a coincidence that he was in the temple at the time. Anakin had requested to speak with him (hoping that they could find out more about what the ‘chipped’ clones thought was going on). He would be one of 400 throughout the galaxy. It was discovered that non force sensitives with particularly strong minds could break through the hallucinations, eventually being able to see the contradictions. Anakin without a suit was one of those contradictions. Cody, upon waking, had what could conservatively be called a panic attack, and what could rightly be called a series of panic attacks so severe that it drew the attention of empaths from 6 levels away. His attack on his general, his Obi Wan (they had built a relationship during the war and had plans to marry after it was done), had been entirely real. Obi Wan and Yoda could not be accounted for, no one knew if they had survived or not. 

Between the Separatists, who rejoined the Republic 8 months after the weapon was deployed, Scientists and the Republic they were able to study enough of the reawakened, like Cody (Volunteer only), that they could start building a device to reverse the effects. 

The device is activated 10 years to the day of the original weapon.  It stimulates the brain waves matching the frequency of the awakened in anyone who was afflicted. The non afflicted gather together across the galaxy in little clumps, clutching at each other. The previous decade has changed the face of the galaxy in a way that cannot be properly articulated. The non afflicted have watch the reactions to a genocide, have seen the people they love embrace the very worst evils (or watched them rise above to fight back).  Even those who would have supported the Empire are horrified by the depths that the hallucination dipped into (Over those 10 years they have been able to get other, scant looks into the hallucination).  And this was a decade long tragedy in which everyone who was unafflicted experienced, to some extent. Tragedy is a great equalizer. 

First the comatose began to wake, family and friends or very variety sitting with them. Even those who had no one unafflicted had someone celebrating their waking in the packed rooms. Then the afflicted started focusing fully on the people around them, fully for the first time in a decade.  Spouses who had ‘buried’ their loved ones blinked to see them hale and hearty. Children that had effectively been orphaned, both as afflicted and non, found that there was suddenly a decade missing. 

On Tatooine a Jedi Master turned butcher froze. He, like all the other afflicted, had gone to work that day, never noticing as the non afflicted among them were more anxious. The oppressive darkness vanished so abruptly he could feel it, even through the shielding.  Not far away he could see a Togruta woman clutching one of his coworkers to her, who was bewildered.

An announcement went out to a broadcast system that had been built specifically for this (and Obi Wan realized he had never seen that broadcast tower before) an hour after the afflicted woke up.  It took two days to reach the Outer Rim (but to be fair, so did the ripple that woke the afflicted). It gave a brief explanation about what happened and a location that any of the former afflicted could go to register themselves, in case they had changed planets under the affliction and wanted to find their loved ones again. It was recommended that the former afflicted remain where they were, as long as they were not in danger, to keep from clogging up the hyperlanes. 

Obi Wan collected his lightsaber from the desert, and found that there was only one when he thought he had buried two. Driven by the force, he reported to the registration locations. Once his information was in the system it lit up from here to the Core. Cody was the one sent to collect him, as Anakin was helping to settle Ahsoka (who did not react well to being a decade older and having been killed by Vader). 

Cody and Obi Wan maintained skin contact for the entire trip back from Tatooine, after a decade of thinking the other lost they could not bear to be parted.

Palpatine was finally able to step down, playing the emperor had been a horrific experience for him.  He retired entirely, unable to bear the thought of power. Even if he had been interested, people still flinched when they looked at him.  

Everything that happened next was to a galaxy irrevocably changed.

[schizopositivity]

remember that command hallucinations are just hallucinations, they dont have to mean anything, you dont have to believe them, you dont have to do what they say, nothing bad will happen to you if you ignore them, even if they say something will, they are powerless, you are the one in charge or your own actions

[quietwingsinthesky]

Rating: Mature

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandom: Mass Effect

Ships: Female Shepard/Tali'Zorah nar Rayya, Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian

Additional Tags: Mass Effect 3: Citadel, Mild Sexual Content, Comedy, Open Relationships, Drunk Sex, Bisexual Shepard (Mass Effect)

Summary:

Shepard joins Tali in the bathroom during the party.

[ship-garbage-pile]

What i love about Ryu is that he is a nice, but stern leader with some form of undiagnosed psychosis that haunts him! ✨

[knifebucket]

my personal former gifted kid experience is even as an adult professional feeling like every question i ask is dumb and everyone is going to bully me for asking. unfortunately the only cure is to ask the dumb question anyway

[companionwolf]

Fictober 2022 fill #1

Prompt: 14. 'Yes. No. I don't know.'

Fandom: XCOM / Starbound

Rating: Gen

CWs/TWs: suicide ideation, interrupted suicide attempt [not gory, happens before any actual harm/action is done]

Central wakes slowly, painfully. 

Alone.

Everything aches, and when he sits up, his head smacks against the steel of a spaceship bed bunk compartment. He hisses between his teeth at the sharp pain as he adjusts to where his head isn't flush to the top of the bunk anymore.

He rolls over and slides out of the bunk, feet meeting the cold, dark floor. He staggers into the tiny bath station next to the wall of bunk beds, blindly patting at the wall until he presses on a blue white light that flickers dimly into life. He stares at himself in the mirror. 

Kelly always said he looked tired. He never confirmed that, but now, as he stares at himself in the low light of the bath station, he can see the dark circles and haggard hair. He hasn't been keeping good care of himself. 

i wish you would.

Central does not startle at the second figure in the mirror. He presses a hand to the cool reflection, tenderly tracing the blurry jaw with a finger.

"No point," he says as he pulls his hand back, and picks up the toothbrush on the sink. The fuzzy being in the mirror shakes their head at him as he brushes. 

He's right, though, isn't he? Earth is gone, XCOM-- his friends, his CO. It's just him now. He wasn't even part of the Protectorate. 

Anger burns in his stomach. The other aliens, the Florans and Avians and so such, they'd come in peace. They'd helped form a grand Protectorate on planet Earth. They'd noticed the Temple Ship, laid out the red carpet for the Elders, because they assumed this would be more of the same-- a happy new member to their intergalactic family. 

They were wrong. 

Central spits into the sink, runs the faucet to wash the brush and clean the basin. Then he looks back into the mirror again.

it should have been the same if things had been different. 

"How do you know, though?"

No answer. Typical.

These… neural ghosts, these synapse spirits, they've only started showing up after Central managed to beam up onto some poor Protectorate graduate's ship and fly out into the black with it. He thinks they're a psychological thing.

He doesn't believe in ghosts. They can't be ghosts.

yes, we can.

The voice in his ear is different now-- the man on the television, peddling ADVENT propaganda, smiling for the cameras and having a very punchable face. Central grits his teeth. "You can be a ghost," he says. 

The Speaker laughs

Central rubs at his temples and exits the bath station, which opens back into the crew quarters. He walks along the other way, where there is a tiny kitchenette. 

There are emergency ration bars and water in the little cabinet and refrigerator. He sighs as he takes one of both and sits on the floor. 

The bar is a thick hardtack like thing. His teeth hurt on it, and it tastes like cardboard.

Distinctly he smells eggs, bacon. Coffee. Oh, god, coffee. Real food.

He is so sick of ration bars.

After he finishes breakfast and stops again in the crew quarters to throw on a shirt, Central rides up the small lift to the main deck of the ship. 

When he steps off the lift, he pauses--

But nothing happens. 

Central rolls his eyes.

It's been days and every time he's come up here, the ship computer has refused to boot, to speak, to acknowledge him. He's been basically adrift without its help. 

Don't know why it hasn't flown us into an asteroid yet, he thinks, if it hates me so much.

He slips into the cockpit. He's never flown before, but there's a simulation system built into this thing that he's been amusing himself with. It's accessible without SAIL, thankfully. 

Central sits in the chair in front of the ship controls. In front of him, the curved cockpit window gives him a view into pitch dark dotted by stars. 

He does not launch the simulation. He just sits, staring into the black. 

The dread in his heart thumps. 

Just out the corner of his eye, he sees --

what will you do, all alone?

"Figure it out," he says. 

that's not what you want to do, hisses the voice of the Speaker. Central ignores it. "I'll figure it out," he repeats.

Central has not had any control of the ship. SAIL pointed them away from Earth when they made it into space. He can't see the planet now; he's not sure if that's because they're facing away, or if the entire thing is gone. 

He pulls his flask from his pocket, takes a small drink. Have to ration ths, he thinks bitterly. What he wouldn't give to get smashed and just forget for an hour or seven. 

central, comes Lily Shen's chiding voice, you are not doing that

"I know," he says, "I can't anyway." 

He passes the flask from hand to hand. The silence is heavy on his ears. Dark things curl in his blood. 

He thinks of his rifle, down in the crew quarters. 

He thinks of the Matter Manipulator, hidden away because he hates it.

He thinks of his knife, right here on him.

that won't solve your problem, says Jane Kelly.

He wants to argue that it would-- that the problem is more a situation that he desperately wants to get out of. 

do you really want to do that? 

It's his younger self's voice. He can feel his own eyes boring into him.

"Yes. No. I don't know," Central says.

but you'll figure it out.

The voice is the figure from the mirror. He spins the chair around to meet it. 

The Commander stands in the doorway. Their eyes lock with his. 

They reach out a hand to him --

"Don't," he manages to plead. His voice cracks. "Don't do that. Don't--"

don't what, remind you? 

The Speaker stands there then instead, looking smug and Central forgets, just for this moment, pushing up from the pilot chair to punch at the other.

His fist passes through empty air.

The Speaker laughs. 

Something breaks in him, just long enough for him to crumple to the floor in a heap, pull out and drain the flask, fumble for his knife --

john!

The scream stops him.

The Commander is crouched besides him, placing an ineffective hand over where he has posed to slice into his underarm. He can feel the weight of their hand, the warmth, and he --

Central tries to keep from tearing up. 

"It's not real," he mumbles, "you're not here. You're not here. You're not anywhere. You're probably dead."

see, there, says Shen Sr. you said probably. you hope yet still, central. 

"But I know you're dead," he counters. The older man smiles at him. do you?

Central swallows hard against the lump in his throat, feels his face twist as he starts to cry. He doesn't, does he? He doesn't know what happened to the Avenger. He doesn't know what happened to his friends.

what do you know? Vahlen. 

He takes a long breath, puts the knife down. Central knows something attacked the Protectorate. Possibly the entire Earth. Possibly everyone's dead. He's on a ship with a AI who hates him. He is out of alcohol. He wants to die.

two of those are just possibilities, murmurs Vahlen. 

let's give him some credit here, they're things that might be true, says Ramierz. 

i don't think we should be entertaining most of those thoughts either way, Lily Shen says. To him she adds, think something else, central. 

He rolls his eyes again through tears.

central, central, central, breathes the Commander at his ear, feeling as if they are hugging him from behind. He makes a choked whining noise. "What?"

you should jump, they say.

Oh, the ship, he realizes after finding himself hoping they mean throwing himself through out of a airlock. They want him to jump out of the solar system. But that requires SAIL.

can you try? Their hands are cupping his face. for me, central? try for me?

He presses his face into the open space where his brain and eyes say their shoulder is. He squeezes his eyes shut. 

"Yes," he mumbles. "I'll try for you."