[Trek] Reflections of a Starship Pirate
It's like being stuck in a box -- a goddamn glass box. I can see out, and the world can see in, but no matter what I say, no one can hear me. I'm there, but I'm not part of anything. This is not new. It's always been like this.
Sometimes, I think the box is the ship, but it's not. It's smaller than that. At least here, the things that don't matter get heard. It keeps us intact. But, living is not the same as survival.
The golden passion that's kept us up, these past years? It's gone. Maybe I'm the only one who knows, but I doubt it. Merendith's been looking at me strangely since we left orbit. All the colour has run out of me, but I can still see it in everything else. It's funny, you know, I always heard that the colour would run out of the world. But, it's still there, taunting me. The burning in my soul is envy. And the burning in my blood is jealousy. The green is there. A rich, deep colour -- darker than blood. It's the only colour I have left, to myself.
My wits are gutted, that's for certain, and I'm not sure if I'm as pleased as I should be that I haven't been thrown to the dogs. I can't feel my fingers. They've been numb for days. Merendith tells me it's not from the glass. She tells me it's shock, and then she gives me the eye, like she wants to know what could've made such an impact without tearing the ship apart. I haven't told her. Probably won't. D'nila probably will. It's impossible to keep a romance away from an Orion -- or vice versa.
I'm empty on the inside, and the glass box just keeps getting smaller. How long until I implode, I wonder?
Must've said it out loud. Merendith's telling me it's not possible, and I wish I believed her. Stavret's giving me the look that tells me we're going to talk about this, later. I don't really want to talk about it, but something tells me I've stopped having a choice in the matter. You don't tell your best friend to go introduce himself to an airlock, when the world's falling in around your ears.
I have no business being on the bridge, I think. Stavret knows how to fly the ship, and Merendith's here to keep him company. I suspect there's something going on, there, and if Stavret's going to make me talk, I'm going to ask. Right now, though, I'm going to go back to bed. Just going to stare at the canopy and write haiku chains until I pass out, again.
Nothing that can't be slept off, right?
Sometimes, I think the box is the ship, but it's not. It's smaller than that. At least here, the things that don't matter get heard. It keeps us intact. But, living is not the same as survival.
The golden passion that's kept us up, these past years? It's gone. Maybe I'm the only one who knows, but I doubt it. Merendith's been looking at me strangely since we left orbit. All the colour has run out of me, but I can still see it in everything else. It's funny, you know, I always heard that the colour would run out of the world. But, it's still there, taunting me. The burning in my soul is envy. And the burning in my blood is jealousy. The green is there. A rich, deep colour -- darker than blood. It's the only colour I have left, to myself.
My wits are gutted, that's for certain, and I'm not sure if I'm as pleased as I should be that I haven't been thrown to the dogs. I can't feel my fingers. They've been numb for days. Merendith tells me it's not from the glass. She tells me it's shock, and then she gives me the eye, like she wants to know what could've made such an impact without tearing the ship apart. I haven't told her. Probably won't. D'nila probably will. It's impossible to keep a romance away from an Orion -- or vice versa.
I'm empty on the inside, and the glass box just keeps getting smaller. How long until I implode, I wonder?
Must've said it out loud. Merendith's telling me it's not possible, and I wish I believed her. Stavret's giving me the look that tells me we're going to talk about this, later. I don't really want to talk about it, but something tells me I've stopped having a choice in the matter. You don't tell your best friend to go introduce himself to an airlock, when the world's falling in around your ears.
I have no business being on the bridge, I think. Stavret knows how to fly the ship, and Merendith's here to keep him company. I suspect there's something going on, there, and if Stavret's going to make me talk, I'm going to ask. Right now, though, I'm going to go back to bed. Just going to stare at the canopy and write haiku chains until I pass out, again.
Nothing that can't be slept off, right?