The cold blue scenery, decorated with white strokes of ice walls under an alienating green star. A view to behold, to dream about. To die for. To die at. They say, your life runs before your eyes in your last moments among the living.
...
How crushing is the feeling that the all you can see before you are consumed by the flames, orange with the interior burning and blue with blazing fuel raging from behind, is only life of a monster, not a human?
They say, the last moment you have is your last moment to confess. Last chance to go with a weight off your weary, stopping heart. How crushing is the feeling, that you have to rip your heart out just to save yourself from weight it puts on you?
...
In the void no one will hear fists breaking against the cockpit's window.
...
The laughter. The hate. The bloodlust. Scraping through a failing radio, with the button melted in, without a way to mute it. Like a mocking to a moment before the eternal peace, depriving of silence and the last bits of pride.
...
She felt that it's deserved. That only being alive was the good enough reason for them to pull the trigger. For her to witness, through smoke and blasting red alarm lamp, how the metal shells of her fellow colleagues' and friends' ships were burning, choking and drowning in their own flames of the engines' exhausts.
...
"I will return. I promise."
Like a misericorde, this words pierced and twisted in her heart, the words that escaped her lips long ago. Said to a closest person one can have. Not a parent or a lover. Someone, who went away even earlier. The last strike of faith that truly hurt her soul. A push into the abyss of no return. Maybe everything could be different? Maybe...
...
You will endlessly burn in your agony. Alone.
...
"The orders are clear. Turn it into dust. That will be a coup de grace for this planet."
The visions. Those people were talking about. She saw a reflection of herself. Not in the glass that divided her slowly melting cockpit and the ice field, but of a battleship, hovering in dusted rust of a system in foreign House. She saw herself. Relentless, inhuman in her frosted heart, in a smile twisting her lips when warships unleashed hell onto the industrial planet, erasing friend and foe and innocent below.
...
No one will hear your tormented scream of pain.
...
She stared into the void. Her tormentors ran off, leaving her to die slowly and lonely. At least, giving her a gift of silence. It won't be long until the flames will consume her.
...
She stared into the void. And a pair of eyes, almost painfully familiar, stared back. Suddenly the hellish heat of a burning ship toned down, turning into unnatural cold. Like a subtle embrace the frost ran down her spine, like an ice crust this cold held her down in place. The eyes... So familiar yet wrong, almost otherworldly, just rejected to be remembered. They stared back.
Hug Ụ̸̵͔̘̠͓͔̼̯̼̹̯ͣ̏͆͑͛̾ͤ̕̕͞͡͠S̶̵͈̟͕̤̞̞͓̗̿͋ͭ̐́̑̅͠͡ back. Return Ő̝̫͇̫̱̏͌͢U͓͉̗R̤̽̈ͫͧ͋͒̓ em̶̨̡̛̼͖͎̞̱̋̋̋̿͒̚͘͡bra̵̓̇͐̊͋ͤ̃̕̕̕͝ce. W̯̖ͩͯË͖̗̰͇́̇̿ͪ͐̅̿̕͟͜ will make you b̠̳̭̗̝͈ͬͪ͒̽ͦ́lơ̪ͫͫͪ̀̒̈o̸̹͍̮͕̺ͣ̎̄̂̈̔̇͆̉̅ͅm͎̦̌͌̃ͦ̄̄ͫ again.
Her own eyes were closing, as the green star was becoming even more ghostly, even more unnatural, with it's tint shifting and twisting into violet tones, as the inhuman tears, were emerging, running down on the void, from the the eyes that stared. Ready to deliver their true embrace. Ready to consume and make her reborn in their unsetteling song. Yet...
"Targets spotted. Drop the hammer, look for survivors later."
The line of crimson flames blocked off the unnatural calling, as her eyes closed with her mind slipping away into the abyss.
![[Image: nightmare.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/yYrqzZHT/nightmare.png)