Thursday, April 30, 2009

Panic

Vaden sits on board his Revelation, his estate desk empty as its previous clutter has been strewn across the room. His breathing is fast and shallow, and sweat beads down his face. He holds a bottle of Drop in his hand, tapping it lightly on the desk.

I thought I could handle it. Aria had helped me. I thought I was fixed. I thought I could handle going through once more. Everyone else has gone in. Why can't I? I'm better than them, damn it. I'm the damn fleet Marshal. I have more experience in my balding hair than half the folks have in their whole damn bodies. I had to perform. I had to live up to expectations. I had to go back in. The promise of reward. The promise of adventure. The promise of killing my demons.

Vaden's breath falters, as if he's holding back tears. He pauses, trying to control himself.

What are the odds? How many damn systems? How God forsaken is this galaxy? How the hell did I jump into another damn system with another damn black hole? This one was far off, wasn't affecting the ship. So why the hell am I so scared? I didn't get stuck. I wasn't even close to it. But I'm sitting here aboard my meaningless, trivial technology, cowed by nature's mistake. I can't let it affect me. I have to push on. And I can't let anyone know. God forbid what will happen if Inara finds out. But now there's talk of a larger presence in wormhole space. What am I going to do? God, what am I going to do?

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