Adrift

        “Try again. Fail again. Fail better.” -- Samuel Beckett

The warp bubble collapsed, dropping me back into the normal space, and I sagged, having expended my last shreds of energy into my escape. One by one my systems fell silent, unable to run on adrenaline alone, making little tinkling as noises as they started cooling down, until I was just a drifting shadow under the stars, safely huddled into a cloak.

I closed my eyes, cutting off all comms, shutting out the universe, clearing my mind, while the armor repairer began its work of patching up my skin. It had been beautiful once, my skin, but now it was marred with deep slashes, bleeding fluids, air, and crew. And there'd be scars. Always new scars. Changing who I was.

        Nattias Getore> Druur Monakh just left the belt.

        Morbius Kahn> Pirate?

        Nattias Getore> Possible

        Druur Monakh> Definitely.

The memory flickered and vanished again, and I felt the gentle tug of gravity as I slowly tumbled, drifting through the radiation of the distant sun, as I've drifted all last month. It was quiet here, peaceful. The burning of my skin started to diminish, soothed by myriads of nanites, but even they were helpless against the deeper pain. Where my bones had been broken, where parts of me had burnt out. I'd have to make stationfall, soon, to recover, before casting out into the void again, driven once more by the memory of a love which once was.

Time caught up with me. I drifted still, but my skin was whole again, my strength had returned, I was humming with new energy, the internal injuries just a distant sensation at the edge of my mind. It was time to set a course, yet I delayed. Gathered my resolve.

And I opened my eyes, my sensors reached out, and I kissed the universe in welcome.