A Spiral Vortex

[Ash]

Brent looked up from his control panel contemplating the events that had just occurred. As he sat there floating in space a mild euphoria overcame him because of his luck during the jettison process. He remained silent and expressionless. A humming sound began to rise in volume that resonated throughout the escape pod, it was moving. The humming gradually got louder until it's climax with a loud clunk of metal on metal. At this point Brent did not direct his mind to where he was or what was happening but why his wingmen had turned on him in the heat of combat.

Before long the escape pod latch opened and a shadowed figure of a man approached from the blinding light that shone from behind him. A sudden blow to the head put an end to Brents thoughts as he was knocked unconscious.

#

He awoke in a daze prone on a hard surface, he recoiled slightly as he opened his eyes that were met by a bright white colour everywhere.

As he became more aware of his surroundings he discovered that the white he had first anticipated as a light was the ceiling of a cylindrical white room that was highly illuminated by lights from somewhere beneath him. He had found that he was bound to a large white rectangular block; similar to a table; by both his arms, legs and torso. It was not long before his struggles to break free were extinguished by hopelessness.

A man entered the room in a uniform white outfit that Brent could not distinguish due to the constant exposure to the lights all around him.

"Hello Brent" The man said
"Hello?" Brent Replied
"You are going to be the future of us all" Said the man
"W..What?"Brent asked delirious

The man was carrying a syringe with a dense pink sparkling liquid swirling around inside it. Brent did not move and began to wonder what they had given him while he was subconscious; his own lack of alarm confounded him.

Brent looked over to see the man injecting the fluid into his arm.

Gaaaaaaaaaaaah! Brent screamed in pain

A burning sensation moved like a wave throughout his arm and into his torso. The man stood and watched emotionless. Brent continued to shout in pain as the fluid continued to flow throughout the rest of his body. His heart raced and his eyes burned with pain.

The pain suddenly subsided as he fell limp and silent.

Dammit! Were losing him!
Bring in the life support!
No time! Give me, test solution X-19-B!
But sir! It hasn't been tested!
Well Im testing it!
...

He's breathing.......He's breathing!
Alright bring life support in here and keep an eye on his vitals

Brent felt a sense of awareness during this time, a feeling of being in between consciousness and unconsciousness. He was aware of everything in those few seconds. He knew what the men were saying, that he was on the verge of death, that he was on Fairbanks station in Alaska in Liberty in the Sirius sector. He understood why he was here, what these people were trying to do, why they were doing it, and how pathetic it was, how.......human it was. He understood the human race to a new extent, every aspect of them he compared to an unknown reason, an extra-ordinary reason, a divine and superior reason. All visualized in a Spiral Vortex.

All of this in the few seconds he was destined to die.

The white room that engulfed Brent as he opened his eyes now engulfed him again, he was swallowed by it as he slipped back into unconsciousness.

#

He Awoke a few days later, he could remember nothing from his coma like sleep, or his past, all he could remember was the pain and the Spiral Vortex he had been plunged into. Voices continued to spin in his thoughts brinking him on insanity and abnormality but staying within the boundaries of an intact mind.

As he began to study the room again it was apparent that the room had not changed apart from a strange object that was on a table next to him. He suddenly noticed that he was no longer under the restraint of the shackles that had held him down previously. Sitting up, Brent considered why they had done this but it was a mere passing thought that was suddenly dissaperated by the never-ending sound of voices in his head.

Brent felt disorientated but did not find difficulty in walking over to the strange object that seemed to have been deliberately placed in the room. It shone the white light back at him in a lilac sparkle that was indescribable by words. He stood there entranced by it and allowed his mind to sink deeper into the thoughts that now seemed to control him. Finally he reached out to it and placed his hand upon one of its smooth flat surfaces.

His head rushed full of images, sounds and memories that he had no control over. He fell into a daydream of blue and purple cities rushing past him. Strange but familiar species speaking in a unheard but understood language. His mind was overloaded with compromise and the Vortex continued to spin. His mind finally came to a slow with an image of a glowing white aura.

*** Welcome to the collective, Welcome home ***

A flash of white awoke him from his daze, everything seemed so obvious, he knew why, and he knew what he had to do. He found himself on the floor, and the ground beneath him continued to resonate and heave. His first objective was to escape and then to find a way home.

#

The apparent wall shattered behind him, it was a one way screen, and it was a way out. Behind it a red light flashed and a deafening alarm blasted throughout the room. As he peered through the hole in the wall the room within was abandoned.

He continued throughout the station along the long catwalks the brought him ever closer to his escape. Brent questioned himself; how did he know where he was going? He had never seen this place before yet a deep feeling inside him guided him, and assured him his escape.

He stopped to examine a limp figure on the floor, a dead man. He showed no emotion towards the image of this lifeless scene, it had all been gone from him, somehow taken, or destroyed. However he was more interested in the firearm that the man had presumably used before his timely death. He took it and advanced to the docking bays without hesitation.

As he strode into an intersection he collided with something, a human, a security guard.

Hey! What do you think your doing!? Demanded the guard

Brent looked at him speechless, he then looked down at his side to see the pistol clutched in his hand and he watched as it was slowly raised and pointed at the guard. The trigger was smooth on his finger and he could feel the spring effortlessly resisting as it was pushed back.

The pistol barely bucked as the guard was send sliding along the walkway from which he came. He lay there silent and unmoving. Brent looked down at him with the same emotionless expression as he did at the last similar scene he had come across.

But before he could contemplate he was already acting on his next notion. As he strode his face was emotionless, expressionless; his eyes burned with resolve as his destination grew gradually closer.

He proceeded to try and commandeer a fighter from one of the dry docks, and during his advancement towards his desired ship he encountered little resistance of a two security guards each neutralized with a single shot to the chest. Brent was now being washed away in the Vortex that was now his mind. Emotions were no longer a necessity but disadvantage to him, and so he continued mindlessly striding towards the ship killing three more men in cold blood.

His hand found their way to the control panel of a Nomad prototype fighter that the humans had somehow crudely adapted and he felt invigorated at the burst the engines gave as they kicked into power. He gripped the flight stick before him and tugged it in the direction of the hangar doors that were now open. A fight raged on outside of the prison station, the humans and their petty differences did not concern Brent, not any more, he was no longer Brent Ortega, An orphaned boy that found his way through society to become a private shuttle pilot. He was a part of the collective. The Vortex now controlled his mind, it was his mind, and it was all he needed.

He made a quick get-away from the station attracting no attention from the ignorant humans towards himself. His ship was little to behold with hardly any major features apart from it's origin that would play to his advantage in a fight. That was his secondary objective, which he could not take priority from his first. So he proceeded towards his destination, his resolve, his collective, his home.

#

As he plotted the course to his destination, he felt a great pain within him; similar to that he had suffered on the operating table in Fairbanks. He fell to his knees clutching the pain in his skull. The pain finally passed, but what was happening? The voices of the collective continued to confer in his head. Suddenly the urge for him to reach his destination swelled and he jumped back into the pilot seat to take manual control.

*** Return to us ***

It was forever repeated in his head, and the closer he came to his destination the louder the voices became.

Eventually he encountered a jump hole; it was the gateway to his home. But it was in such an abysmal place. When he finally jumped through, his cockpit was illuminated by the same deep pink he had seen in his dream. It penetrated further than his eyes and his skin; it flowed through his soul and his mind.

Three figures appeared from the distance, each in the same matter and colour as everything else appeared to be in this system. They sparkled like the panel did that he saw in captivity. The same deep pink. Beautiful.

*** Welcome Home ***

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