Recap In the last installment, Harvet had been taken to the med bay and after a bit of back and forth with the doctor he was afraid and ran out of there, escaping to hide out in the huge capital ship. Ohearah was given a task to go and find him, as no one had heard from him in days.
"Solace has arrived." Harvet heard Runish's voice come in over the intercom of their ship. It was full of pride and invited everyone onboard to cast an awestruck eye out the windows of the ship. Harvet was no different than anyone else, he wanted to see what the fuss was about. Solace. The name had been spreading around the ship over the last few days, but he had no idea what it meant. At first, he took it literally or thought that it was some sort of codename. No, it was neither; it was the name given to some Rotchi experiment; A ship of absurd proportions, one which was unlike any other in The Confederation fleet. It was striking, its presence was unnerving; as if coming face to face with a demi-god. He was filled with a feeling he could only describe as first contact. This must be how The Confederation scouts felt when they first laid eyes on cosmic neighbors. Fear. Curiosity. Shock. Excitement. All of those emotions rolled into one anxiety-driven feeling of interest.
He was neat, tidy, and well-groomed. Harvet had come to his senses recently, somewhat, at least. He was no longer as strange as he once was. The withdrawals from the medication he was on were hard to overcome. A plan had been hatched to raid the med bay for anything he could get his hands on, killing anyone who got in his way. His first true dose of sleep had quenched his want for meds, however. It was real sleep, dreamless sleep, a coma of sorts, and when he woke up from it he felt a groggy afterglow and for some reason, he was even more tired than he had been before. It was strange, but once he had another sleep under his belt, after the first big one, he woke up feeling happier, clear-headed, and sound of mind. It was as if all of that oddball off-the-wall behavior was the dream, even though a part of him knew that the flashes of memories. No matter how far removed, were most certainly real. He was watching himself act irrationally, he may not have recognised himself, there was no denying it, however, it was most definitely him and as embarrassed as he was about it, he was clear-headed now; he knew what he had to do. Kill Runish.
The idea settled in his mind. As soon as the thought drifted, once his mind diverted from his plan he would re-affirm the thought. Sometimes without thinking; he trained himself well, and fixed his mind's eye on the task at hand. Sometimes Harvet felt himself brushing a finger over the concealed pistol in its holster. Then the thought would come to him once more. There were pangs of guilt; a conscience calling out. Self-doubt and justifications. None of those thoughts stayed in his brain long enough to deviate from his plan though. There was nothing to feel guilty about. What he was going to do would stop the pain, the agony, those smirking images of Runish wouldn't smile again. He would pay for what he has done. So would Harvet, but, not before Runish atoned for his actions; not until he answered for what he commanded Harvet to do.
The halls of the ship were crowded with people, all of them staring out the windows. Laughs, giggles, amused chatter, and carefree onlookers alike got in his way as he walked up the corridor. "It's going to be a good show." One of the personnel said. "I hope I can get up from the engine room in time to see it." Another replied, in a downbeat tone. Harvet wanted to question them about this "show" but he decided not to though. Instead, he carried on up the busy hall.
Every so often he would see through the cracks of the gathered masses staring out the window and he would see the ship. He didn't want to look at it, he didn't want to be distracted, he didn't want to catch a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the glass, but he did, and he couldn't look away fast enough. His eyes terrified him, they weren't his own, his face was the same, and the uniform was clean, washed, pressed, stolen. His eyes though. Were they stolen too? He wondered. Did he die in his sleep, his consciousness transported to another plane of existence? Was this the same world it was before he closed his eyes? Was he in the afterlife? Did the lack of sleep kill him? What has happened to me? He asked, but, there was no one who could answer that. The whispers he started to talk to, the ones that disappeared when he fell asleep, maybe they could have answered those questions, or at least they could have tried. But, they were gone, all gone. He was truly alone now. It wouldn't matter though, none of this would matter. One for me, one for him. Harvet thought to himself, ignoring all of the distractions around him.
"Harvet." He heard a voice, one which he couldn't make sense of at first, but he turned and looked at the old face of Ohearah. With the distinct scar down his cheek and the shadow of facial hair that hadn't yet been shaved off. "Ohearah," Harvet said out loud. His voice croaked and cracked as he spoke. It must have been the first time he had spoken in days, the sound of his own voice didn't even seem the same. "You look like shit," Ohearah said. As tactful as always. Harvet thought. "I feel like it too." He replied. "Where are you going?" Ohearah asked throwing an eye at him, slightly raising his eyebrow. "I. I, don't." He tried to force out some words, but they got caught in his throat and stayed there for longer than he expected. He wanted to say he was going to his bunk, to the ordinance hall, to see Runish and give him a gift. He couldn't say anything though, all he could do was stare at Ohearah.
His lungs lost their air, he felt his throat dry up and noticed his shoulders bounce as he tried to catch his fleeting breath. Am I crying? He wondered to himself and as soon as the thought finished he notice his cheeks were wet. He was left in a pure state of embarrassment, with no options available, he hid his face in his hands and lowered his head. He had no idea if anyone noticed, if anyone cared, whether anyone laughed or felt pity for him. He didn't care what their reactions were, but, that didn't stop him from hoping no one could see him. Then he felt an arm go around him and he could smell the slight scent of body odor. He looked up through blurred vision and saw Ohearah walking him forward through the crowd. "It's okay." He said through gritted teeth, most likely unsure of what else to say. But, even that, just those two words, they made it seem a bit better. Harvet's nose started to stream and he looked down at his feet and could see a string of mucus dangling there. The only thing he thought was, get it out. Let it out. You need this.
"Come on, we'll find somewhere quiet where we can talk. Everyone has been wondering where you got off to." Ohearah told him. This time, his voice was filled with compassion, or maybe it was pity.
Is there a difference? Harvet wondered, as crying turned to sobbing and one foot went in front of the other as he was led to this quiet place that Ohearah spoke of.