Haru lay on the cold, padded surface, the synthetic voice echoing in his ears.
"...report to the bridge for debriefing."
Debriefing? On what? His death? The word felt like a mockery. His body was whole, but his mind was a raw wound. The memory of the rusted sword, the coppery smell of his own blood, it was all seared into him, more real and vivid than the sterile white room around him.
He pushed himself up on trembling arms.
The gray jumpsuit felt alien against his skin. He was in some kind of… pod bay. Rows of identical reclining seats lined the curved walls, all empty. The silence was profound, broken only by the low hum of machinery.
'Starship Aether'. The name meant nothing.
A light on a console near his pod blinked from red to a steady green. A section of the wall hissed and slid open, revealing a brightly lit corridor.
He had to move. He had to understand. Maybe this was the real world. Maybe the tavern was the dream. A fragile, desperate hope began to form. This was technology. This was order. This was something he could almost understand.
He stumbled out into the corridor. The floor was cool metal. The walls were lined with more displays and panels. There were no windows. No signs of other people.
"Hello?"
he called out, his voice echoing down the empty hallway.
"Is anyone there?"
The only answer was the hum of the ship.
He walked, his steps hesitant. He turned a corner and found himself facing a large, transparent viewport. He froze.
Beyond the glass was the infinite black of space, dotted with countless stars. And below him, hanging in the void like a magnificent blue and white marble, was Earth.
But it was wrong.
The continents were familiar, but the planet was scarred. Vast, grey swathes of what looked like ruins spread across the surface. No city lights glittered on the night side. It was a silent, dead world.
A cold dread, deeper than any he'd felt in the tavern, seized him.
A soft chime sounded, and the synthetic voice returned, this time from a panel on the wall.
"Warning. Proximity alert. Unidentified vessel approaching. Security protocol Gamma-7 is now in effect. All crew to battle stations."
On the viewscreen, a jagged, insect-like ship, bristling with weaponry, dropped out of a warp distortion directly ahead. It was nothing like the clean lines of the Aether. It was a predator.
A blinding lance of energy shot from the alien vessel, striking the Aether with a force that threw Haru from his feet. The ship shuddered violently. Alarms blared, and the white lights switched to a frantic flashing red. The calm voice was replaced by a harsh, automated warning.
"Hull breach on Decks 4 through 7. Atmospheric containment failing."
Haru scrambled up. This couldn't be happening. Not again. He couldn't die again. He wouldn't.
He ran, not knowing where to go, just driven by pure, animal instinct to flee. He turned down another corridor just as the ceiling behind him exploded in a shower of sparks and twisted metal. The shriek of tearing hull plates was deafening. The air grew thin, and a terrifying wind began to pull him back toward the breach.
He grabbed a handhold, his knuckles white, fighting against the suction into the vacuum of space. He could see the stars through the rupture, cold and indifferent.
"No. No, no, no!'
His grip slipped.
The force ripped him from the handhold. For a breathtaking second, he was tumbling in zero-g, towards the jagged hole in the ship. The cold of deep space washed over him, a cold that burned.
Then, the world didn't just shatter this time.
It detonated.
The pain was instantaneous and absolute. His body flash-froze and vaporized at the same time. There was no tavern, no calm acceptance. There was only obliteration.
And through the annihilating fire, the same cold, final command.
CONTINUE.
The fall through the kaleidoscopic tunnel was faster this time, more violent. The screaming colors were laced with the ghost-sensation of vacuum and fire. He was a soul being burned clean.
The stop was just as abrupt.
---
He landed hard on his back, the wind knocked out of him. The sterile smell of the ship was gone, replaced by the rich, loamy scent of damp earth and rotting leaves. The blinding white lights were replaced by the dappled green glow of sunlight filtering through a dense canopy of trees.
He was lying in a mud puddle on a forest path. The hum of the ship was gone, replaced by the chirping of birds and the buzz of insects.
He gasped, sucking in the thick, humid air. He was wearing rags again, a filthy, homespun tunic and trousers. He patted his body frantically. No freeze burns. No wounds. Just the ache of the fall and the deep, psychic trauma of two deaths in what felt like minutes.
He pushed himself up, mud squelching under his hands. He was in a dense, ancient-looking forest. The air was warm.
A sound made him freeze. It was the distinct jingle of harnesses and the slow, plodding steps of a horse. And voices.
"...said the caravan would be along this path. We'll be rich, I tell you."
"Quiet, you fool. Sound carries in these woods."
Haru stumbled to his feet, his heart once again beginning its frantic rhythm. He peered through the foliage.
Two rough-looking men in worn leather armor were standing beside a single horse-drawn cart that was stopped on the path. They weren't farmers. They had swords at their hips and the hard eyes of men who lived by violence.
One of them pulled back a tarp on the cart, revealing not goods, but several crude iron cages. Inside one, a small, furry creature with intelligent eyes cowered.
Poachers. Or slavers.
Before Haru could back away, a twig snapped under his foot.
Both men spun around, their hands going to their sword hilts. Their eyes locked on him.
"Well, well,"
the larger one sneered, his face breaking into a nasty grin.
"What do we have here? A little spy?"
"I'm... I'm lost,"
Haru stammered, taking a step back.
"Lost, are ya?"
the second man said, stepping forward and drawing his sword. The steel glinted dully in the green light.
"Looks like we found ourselves a little bonus merchandise. He'll fetch a few copper at the mines."
They started advancing towards him.
Haru backed away, panic surging through him. This wasn't a goblin. This wasn't a spaceship. This was just human cruelty. And he was trapped again. Weaponless. Powerless.
He turned to run, but his foot caught on a root. He fell hard onto the muddy path.
The two men loomed over him, blocking out the sun.
"Nowhere to run, boy,"
the first one chuckled.
Haru looked up at them, then down at his own empty hands. He saw the star-shaped mark on his wrist. It began to throb, not with warmth, but with a cold, familiar pulse.
A terrible, weary understanding settled over him. A resignation that was worse than fear.
It was happening again.
He closed his eyes as the first man raised his sword, not to kill, but to knock him unconscious.
He didn't see the blade fall.
He only felt the impact. A crushing pain at the base of his skull.
Then, the cold.
Then, the shattering.
Then, the word.
CONTINUE.
And the fall began again.