Writer’s Note: A super short one today. I’m struggling with the next sequence of events. This next bit wasn’t originally part of the plan, but it just made sense to come back to Alberich at this point, we had been jumping between Cael and Ilya so much. At least I have enough down after this, I’ll have something worked out for next week as well.
Oh, and you’re not exactly supposed to understand everything that’s going on in this scene. It’s just set up for later revelations. 😉
Alberich began to surface from the depths of sleep, and felt at peace with himself; he felt whole. He did every time he floated through this gray space between sleeping and waking. It would soon be gone again. His memories would fade with the dreams, and with them, his sense of self as the real world rushed in, distracting him. Alberich tried to hold onto the moment, to keep himself suspended somewhere just below his eyelids. He loved to let his mind wander in this space. Images were quick to fill in the darkness.
The interior of Lukas’ wing-ship, a teenaged Lukas grinning back at him from the pilot’s seat, showing off. It would only be a few more years before Alberich would be flying his own wing. The elation and envy washed over him .
A much older Lukas, thinning, white hair, his face haggard with crows feet bunched around the corners of his eyes from decades of squinting down into microscopes and reports. They were both standing in a sterile, white room arguing. He couldn’t remember the exact words anymore, there had been so many high stress moments in that lab.
Alberich was attacking Lukas. Throwing himself against the man in unbridled rage. They were their younger selves again, strong but unused to fighting. They were wrestling more than anything before Alberich was able to land a solid blow to Lukas’ face. A woman’s voice screamed behind them. “Stop it!” A curtain of curly, red hair blanketed his vision, choking out the light, smothering him.
Alberich jerked awake, his eyes wide open. He stared at the soft corner of a maroon pillow as he struggled to remember where he was. One arm was numb underneath his weight, paid stabbed down his shoulder and spine as he rolled onto his back. He remembered now, he was on the moon Kennet, in the lobby of a brothel. He stared up at the softly glowing light bulb as his memories drained away. There was no use in fighting it. His sense of peace slowly replaced with the familiar confusion and fear, the last flickering images of he and Lukas made less and less sense as the rest of the brothel’s lobby came into focus.