His head B U R N E D.
It was no headache, but a fire set aflame in his skull.
Like his brain would melt and leave only flesh and bone
behind. Images flashed through his mind, the whispering
words of a dead alien race pounding a war march through
his conscious. There was war and death, love and peace,
colliding together in a cacophony of blinding nothingness.
Everything went black.
Then he was awake.A feeling of clarity had descended upon him,
peaceful. With his eyes closed, there were still flashes playing
out in his vision. Each one passed before something coherent
could be developed. Michael released a breath past cracked lips.
His body was miserable. Limbs were heavy, and his mouth dry -
like the touch of illness. His head was a different matter. Past
grogginess and an insensitive ache, it felt fuller.
He felt a hard surface beneath him. That must have
meant they left the soldier where he dropped, or he
was at the medical facility with Raphael looking him
over. Palming his face, eyes slipped open.
This was unfamiliar.
The pulsing walls of a ship enclosed him. Panic siezed him for a
moment, quickly overtaken by training. Protesting limbs were
forced to hold him up in a stand, which did not last for long. A
stab of pain sent him back to his knees.
❝ Whhu u --? ❞