He's in the middle of running piloting simulations at his desk when everything stops. The lights go da'k, the computer display crashes, even the quiet burble of the aquarium filter cuts out.
Darkness, and silence.
For a moment he can't breathe; for a moment, he doesn't try to breathe. Ghosts don't.
He bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to flood his mouth with blood, and the harsh salt-iron taste gives his mind something to grip onto instead of just spinning his wheels. He catches the the formation-maker's voice on the communicator, offering stilted apologies. He's on the barge, he's alive, he's just - he scrabbles at his wrist, and almost fumbles the thing, but his hands don't fail him. Soon, he has a warm, bright glow cradled in his hands, casting sharp and wild shadows across the room. He shuffles over to the aquarium and holds it up. The usually brilliant fish are a little washed out under the single point light source, but they flicker back and forth in mild confusion, unharmed. He opens the lid and slips his fingers into the water, a visceral sensation, startling and cool. One of the braver and more hopeful bettas swims up to attempt to nibble his fingertips.
The quiet eats at him much more effectively. He should splash, shout, something, but his throat feels locked tight. He should get his communicator. He should. He should -
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
backdated to the blackout
Darkness, and silence.
For a moment he can't breathe; for a moment, he doesn't try to breathe. Ghosts don't.
He bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to flood his mouth with blood, and the harsh salt-iron taste gives his mind something to grip onto instead of just spinning his wheels. He catches the the formation-maker's voice on the communicator, offering stilted apologies. He's on the barge, he's alive, he's just - he scrabbles at his wrist, and almost fumbles the thing, but his hands don't fail him. Soon, he has a warm, bright glow cradled in his hands, casting sharp and wild shadows across the room. He shuffles over to the aquarium and holds it up. The usually brilliant fish are a little washed out under the single point light source, but they flicker back and forth in mild confusion, unharmed. He opens the lid and slips his fingers into the water, a visceral sensation, startling and cool. One of the braver and more hopeful bettas swims up to attempt to nibble his fingertips.
The quiet eats at him much more effectively. He should splash, shout, something, but his throat feels locked tight. He should get his communicator. He should. He should -