Characters: Dylan Shaver
Being busy was one thing, running laps around a kilometer-long ship was another. Shaver was more apt to do the latter nowadays, and with the inconspicuous status of his new quarters, he did it quite often. He had been running through useless lists and crew reports all morning, and was, to be blunt, bored. So he made himself busy, gave himself an order to do something, like repair a computer malfunction, and then go on to his next piece of busy work. Since nobody was in any imminent need of him, and if they were they could just ask for him, this was of no inconvenience to anybody.
He kept up on all the reports he had gotten, read them in his free time to make sure everything was going on well. There wasn’t a lot of room for error with their new mission, so he need to make sure he knew what was going on. Whether he was successful or not, he didn’t care- he just enjoyed knowing things.
“Ah,” he said, sullenly, walking towards a turbolift, “I’m going to get back to my quarters,” He looked behind him to make sure nobody followed, and was glad they didn’t.
It was a quick trip back to the quarters, should one know how to get there properly. Were it as easy as telling the computer a deck number, it would have been easy; and a lot less fun going back to them every day.
Slowly, he stepped off the turbolift. He moved quickly to exit, and almost bumped into a man, standing there, somewhat short- human. Dark hair, dark eyes, and seemingly familiar. The man smiled and saluted, and stepped out of Shaver’s way. He still wasn’t used to being saluted. Hell, he wasn’t used to being spit upon. He walked down the long corridor slowly.
Then it hit him, Shaver’s head darted around quickly, only to see a pair of lift doors closing before him. A million thoughts went through his mind at once.
“Colin Erikson?” he asked himself, silently, “is dead,” he quickly answered.
you should know- you killed him yourself, he thought, depreciating himself to an extreme. Of course Erikson would have died anyway, he had a PPG burn right through his side, straight through his kidney. His chances of living through that were pretty slim, especially since he had a gun pointed at Shaver anyway.
It went like this- The Oberon.
Shaver was on it, Erikson was on it. During the war, they were attacked, and boarded, by a Minbari blitz squadron. Three small, fast ships. Two attack and draw fire, the third attatches and boards. They had boarded, and he knew what he had to do. It was a very steady battle, and Shaver had to turn the tides, to the wrong side.
Shaver stared at the doors as they closed. “Erikson is dead, it wasn’t Erikson.” The man’s image mirrored through his mind, slowly forming itself and vanishing just before he could get a clear look. Quite bothersome, actually, but it kept happening. HE remembered Erikson’s face completely, was this man an actual match?
No, couldn’t be, He told himself, and kept watching…
“Shaver!” Erikson had startled him, as he was bent over a conduit, “I’m Hit!”
Shaver hardly nudged, until he heard Erikson scream, “Damn!” Shaver turned around…
“What the hell are you doing, Shaver?”
Before he knew it, Erikson had a gun pointed towards him, and he needed a way out..
Shaver opened his eyes. He had made it to his quarters, and if he had any more recurring memories like those, he would have to stop closing them. It was just that simple. He blinked.
The blood trickled from Erikson’s mouth, and Shaver bent back over the conduit, unhappily. It needed to be done, but why did he have to be the man to do it? He knew the consequences of the present, and needed to fix them. They didn’t make the future look too bright. Erikson was another loss, for a livable future.
“Okay, that’s it- I need water,” He said, audibly. He was getting tired of the memories, and was really seriously thinking of exposing himself to a lot of radiation so he would forget. Perhaps he would get drunk, but he didn’t drink much.
He sipped the water slowly, it tasted good. well, what little of it he tasted. He figured, it couldn’t have been Erikson- he was killed, then incinerated with four hundred other people. He watched the whole thing. He was surprised he even remembered Erikson, but figured it was something that the Vorlons did, just to make sure he didn’t forget.
Life always had to be so difficult. He wished he could change his past, he wished he didn’t have to do the things he did. But somebody had to, and Shaver was a good target. No friends, no family, no attachments to anything real. None.
Not even to reality itself, for he had forgotten it’s meaning. Everything being possible, what is real, and what is unreal? The line is certainly a fine one, if it exists at all.