SIM:Skyfire, Chythar/EyeOfTheStorm
| Crew of the USS Astraeus | ||
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| Lieutenant Commander Chythar Skyfire, MD | ||
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OOC: This takes place inside Chythar's head during his 'experiment', ending with his mental calling to Lt. JG Raissa Moonsong. Apologies in advance for the number of links.
(( Chythar's Mindscape ))
:: From the moment the neural blocker entered his bloodstream and silenced his mind, he could feel nothing. His center, which he saw as a calm Terran beach under a beautiful sunset with a low tide at his feet, forcibly emptied into a pitch-black nothingness that vaguely reminded him of the vast emptiness which was the space the Garuda flew through. He didn't feel anything -- except this growing shadow that gradually overcame him; it had a name -- Fear. ::
:: The fear that he would go to sleep and not wake up. The fear that what he was doing was rash and stupid. The fear that he would die horribly, because he would fall victim to the plague that was infecting the people he was trying to save. A metronome started in the background of this growing darkness. "Tick tock. Tick Tock. Tick tock." as though every precious second was being counted down. Unto death. His death. He was afraid, yes. Though for their lives, as much as his own. He was trying to save them using a method that had only ever been attempted once in the history of Starfleet, techniques that predated him by nearly 2 centuries. ::
:: Then, as the convulsions began to warp and twist his body beneath the restraining field outside, the metronome within began to assert itself. Louder, louder, and louder, increasing in volume and intensity. The ever-growing blackness named Fear assumed a new identity: a pocket watch. Disembodied voices began to resonate against the nothingness, one sounding like the cheshire cat. The other, Chythar's own -- trying to reason and argue with the beast. ::
Cheshire: You know this hasn't been attempted before. Humans could die from this.
Skyfire: Cardassians will die from this if we do nothing. This is important enough I am willing to risk my life.
:: The cheshire considered his words. A contemplative silence. Then he spoke once again, his voice almost assuming a hint of curiosity and inquisitive nature. ::
Cheshire: You think it will teach you compassion?
Skyfire: Yes. I feel for these people. As I did for the Romulans. By sharing in their suffering, I may be able to help them.
Cheshire: This experiment could mean your end, Doctor. You put your life in the hands of others, just to prove you are a compassionate man who wishes to discard his arrogance. Other options, of study and science, were not even considered. This plan you undertake will kill you.
:: The 'tick tock' of the metronome, that was once stable as 10 second intervals, grows more rapid. As though someone had overclocked the watch that marked seconds off his life, counting down to the moment of death. CD tried to think of an answer. His breathing grew rapid, as though he felt the walls and this blackening darkness surrounding the watch eating away at his oxygen. ::
Skyfire: They...there was no time...I..
:: His center, that which he had held onto in order to build his shields with the beautiful Terran sunset and the waves gently crashing against the rock below. He could see it faintly emerge from the blackness that consumed his mind, the pocket watch taking the place of the sun. The time in between tick-tocks had grown less, each one now only seconds apart. The clock swelled in size, as though getting bigger and more pronounced. The sky darkened to Fear, the blackness that had taken its original form. The waves grew to tsunami-sized waves, crashing down around him. ::
:: The waves crashed harder upon him. Rain, sleet, hail, and ice formed within the waves, each form of water having a different effect as though each was a different manifestation of a symptom from this plague. The rain blinded him, forming an all-consuming pain that represented the metabolic catalyst. The sleet burned, representing the fever and giving him the sensation of being on fire. The hail was a representation of the tissue being lost in his hand, that which lingered only around his wrist and ate away at the cartilage within. The ice, an ever present reminder that each breath and word was a testament to the fact he was still alive, although that would soon not be the case. The cheshire remained dry, as though sitting atop the watch and lurking with a grin on his face as he listened to the doctor's explanations. ::
Skyfire: I...wanted to...save the...the Cardassians....
Cheshire: Look at your friends. What will become of them? :: He waved a paw and proceeded to show CD the images of his friends that he'd made during his service. Raissa, Sal, Collim, Calderan, Johanna, Debra, Ryoji, Dany. All these people he would lose in the event of his death. ::
:: His mind looked and felt like a hurricane. Images of his friends passed through the eye of the storm, forced to watch as these images blurred before him against his eyelids from the rain. Nothing made sense. His mind was a jumble of images, life flashing before his eyes. All the faces, he couldn't put names to. All the uniform colors. It didn't matter. It was moving too fast for him to coherently make sense of any of it. It was all just one chaotic ball of yarn. And he was trapped in it. ::
:: The ground began to shake beneath him, slowly turning his formerly peaceful center of tranquility into a fiery furnace of hell. Every breath was a fight to survive, each breath a struggle with his arrogance and conceit. This was indeed a lesson in compassion, though at a high price -- his life. The metronome grew louder, nearly deafening in its intensity. ::
:: Abruptly, The metronome stopped. The watch faded, and the cat slowly vanished into nothingness as well. His grin and eyes were the last to go before the world faded into bittersweet nothingness that was the antigen -- the fire stopped as the world went white. ::
:: His quiet jetty of peace and solitude was no longer one of such -- it was a roaring volcano of pain and anguish. His mental shields were non-existent, his telepathic control nearly gone. Even with the neural blocker, he was able to get out one word, and sent out a plea for help to the one person whose mind he connected with, however briefly, on this crew. ~Raissa...~ the word itself was filled with anguish, pain and desperation. He was weakened, and he collapsed into the mouth of the fiery vortex below. ::
--
Lieutenant Chythar Skyfire
Acting Chief Medical Officer
USS Garuda
NCC 73809
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