Her Imperious Condescension's Helmsman was plotting her next course when it happened. Pain, air, light hit his nerves and stung his eyes. Maintenance never felt like this. Desperately he tried to ping the parts of his brain connected to the ship's distress signals. Nothing. He had no bearing, no star chart, no commands to follow. The light blinded his eyes. He shrieked and writhed on the medical table, and they had to sedate him.
He always had the hull of the ship to protect him, the system to fill his vision with stars and his ears with electric lullabys. He always knew where he was in the galaxy, even what sweep it was back on Alternia. So many lifetimes since his installation, and he had still operated at full capacity. Now, he couldn't even bend a spoon.
After much discussion, he was sent to an Avox rehabilitation center, where he sat in a wheelchair and saw stars in the corners of his vision. He politely begged to know where the Battleship Condescension was. When no one could answer, he gave up and simply asked where he was. "Panem" had a familiar ring to it, though it was nowhere on the maps he'd memorized. The name assaulted him like his dreams of fighting in arenas and having friends. The concept was so foreign to him, he dismissed it as a memory malfunction. He thought it unfortunate he only experienced these glitches upon coming here, or he would have purged them long ago.
Memories from before Panem did not surface. He'd thoroughly buried those himself for fear of betraying the people in them.
He was an emaciated shell of his former self, with patches of healing skin where wires and the goggles had been. He worked to regain movement in his spindly hands first of all. He, like the other severe cases, was not allowed a computer, so he resorted to drawing his star charts by hand. Since he wasn't allowed access to much information (yet), he hoped that someone would recognize his stars and tell him where in the galaxy he was. Great pieces of butcher paper covered the table as he worked tirelessly. They had to give him medicine to force him to sleep.
Back from home world as Helmsman
He always had the hull of the ship to protect him, the system to fill his vision with stars and his ears with electric lullabys. He always knew where he was in the galaxy, even what sweep it was back on Alternia. So many lifetimes since his installation, and he had still operated at full capacity. Now, he couldn't even bend a spoon.
After much discussion, he was sent to an Avox rehabilitation center, where he sat in a wheelchair and saw stars in the corners of his vision. He politely begged to know where the Battleship Condescension was. When no one could answer, he gave up and simply asked where he was. "Panem" had a familiar ring to it, though it was nowhere on the maps he'd memorized. The name assaulted him like his dreams of fighting in arenas and having friends. The concept was so foreign to him, he dismissed it as a memory malfunction. He thought it unfortunate he only experienced these glitches upon coming here, or he would have purged them long ago.
Memories from before Panem did not surface. He'd thoroughly buried those himself for fear of betraying the people in them.
He was an emaciated shell of his former self, with patches of healing skin where wires and the goggles had been. He worked to regain movement in his spindly hands first of all. He, like the other severe cases, was not allowed a computer, so he resorted to drawing his star charts by hand. Since he wasn't allowed access to much information (yet), he hoped that someone would recognize his stars and tell him where in the galaxy he was. Great pieces of butcher paper covered the table as he worked tirelessly. They had to give him medicine to force him to sleep.