Flashes of red and piercing screams interjected themselves periodically as the nightmare played through Einar’s restless sleep like the scenes of a play. He was back on Paimon Station, the Oculi Inferni home base atop one of the larger rocks in the belt, leading the final assault on the eldritch organization. His brigade had spent the greater part of 4 years leading a difficult campaign against the shadowy and heavily armed cult only to finally, by a stroke of luck, uncover the headquarters of their operation. His team strained for resources and manpower, their assault on the fortress was a risky one. But the risk of the attack or the loss of life suffered by his men was not what continuously haunted his dreams. Inside the heart of the station, after they had taken the PT hangar and armory of the station, Einar had seen what could only be described as horrors. Biomechanical monstrosities, half alive and half dead, screaming and gnashing as binds that held them.
He awoke suddenly, his neck aching from resting against the hard wall of the tiny cell. Four cement walls and a cold floor surrounded Einar, his captors not bothering to provide him with any bed mat or other comfort. A blaringly bright light hung high above Einar, the guards leaving it on all night in what he imagined to be a step in the textbook manual of breaking a man for interrogation. Only a day earlier, Einar had returned to Directory controlled space following the successful completion of his mission, but instead of a welcoming party, the Terra Sentinel Lieutenant Colonel was greeted by a small battalion of armed soldiers. A pair of handcuffs and a cold cell later, Einar found himself in his current predicament. Stirring slightly, the massive pilot stared down at his handcuffs for a moment and contemplated them. Three links of soldered steel and two steel loops. The engineering of handcuffs had not changed tremendously over the past couple hundred years, and even on a man as large as Einar, his captors had apparently trusted the integrity of a single pair of handcuffs enough to leave his restraint only to their strength. A sliding window in the metal door of the cell opened suddenly, the guard attending the cell on the other side.
“Rise and shine, Tiny.”
He awoke suddenly, his neck aching from resting against the hard wall of the tiny cell. Four cement walls and a cold floor surrounded Einar, his captors not bothering to provide him with any bed mat or other comfort. A blaringly bright light hung high above Einar, the guards leaving it on all night in what he imagined to be a step in the textbook manual of breaking a man for interrogation. Only a day earlier, Einar had returned to Directory controlled space following the successful completion of his mission, but instead of a welcoming party, the Terra Sentinel Lieutenant Colonel was greeted by a small battalion of armed soldiers. A pair of handcuffs and a cold cell later, Einar found himself in his current predicament. Stirring slightly, the massive pilot stared down at his handcuffs for a moment and contemplated them. Three links of soldered steel and two steel loops. The engineering of handcuffs had not changed tremendously over the past couple hundred years, and even on a man as large as Einar, his captors had apparently trusted the integrity of a single pair of handcuffs enough to leave his restraint only to their strength. A sliding window in the metal door of the cell opened suddenly, the guard attending the cell on the other side.
“Rise and shine, Tiny.”