The Human Trapped In my Head (4/?) WiP (Patreon)

I never really had dreams in this place. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that our bunks were effectively just concrete slabs with a light mesh of some 3rd, 4th, or even some 5th hand hand-me-down mattress from who knows where. Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that a good number of deathworlders were present in the same section of the dorms with me. The masters hadn’t been paying much attention to the various idiosyncrasies that came with the habitation requirements of each and every slave here. So when they saw deathworlder pop up on their databases, they simply constructed a dormitory to house all of them, regardless of their specific requirements.

It was because of this that a great deal died before they even reached the mines. Not because they couldn’t tolerate the sweltering heat or the uncomfortable mattresses, no. But because the territoriality that came with certain deathworlders was beyond comparison. In the span of a few months, the turnover rates for any deathworlder not of my own kind, or the titular territorial Takleds became so high that our owners had simply decided to forego any more purchases. It was simpler just to buy more Takleds, eventually phasing out my kind as well. It was because of this that I had to sleep with one eye open practically every single day. The only reason why I wasn’t dead yet was because of my brush with fate with their former pack leader. The deal was simple, after besting him in combat, I would be his liaison to the Viltani. The packmaster knew that they had little clue of how other species, let alone advanced space age technologies worked. And so, a fellow deathworlder who had that knowledge would be valuable, so long as I kept my end of the bargain.

So it didn’t come as a surprise that for the past half a decade, dreams had become a distant memory. A memory that I had imagined would never really rear its head back again, until of course, it did.

It had been a few days after the discovery of that strange metal disc that had embedded itself into my hand and I’d not changed my diet up much despite what the virtual being demanded. It was because of this that I assumed it wouldn’t be popping back in any time soon. I was proven wrong as on one of the many, identical nights of sleep, I saw him again. Or rather, I could hear him, as the world around me shifted and contorted into an environment that I could more comfortably perceive, one that shook me to my core.

My old home.

I’d practically forgotten what this place had looked like, not because I wanted to but because I needed to forget. To maintain a deep, emotional connection to such a place thousands of light years away where I had no chance of seeing again was just too much. So I’d willingly forgotten it, buried it underneath memories of lashings, beatings, and toil.

I looked around, my hands grazing against the hardwood table that stood flush against the door that led to the small, farming community I’d been instrumental in constructing. The same community I’d let down when the slavers arrived.

A turmoil of emotions started to well within me as I shifted to and fro, my hands touching, grabbing, trying to make sense of the memory that seemed to be stuck in time, and my body that still bore the scars and chains of slavery.

None of it made any sense, until finally, I heard the tell-tale signs of the creature. This time, instead of being an incorporeal voice in my head, he spoke through the speaker systems of my home, and whatever screens and electronic devices that were present here.

“Right. I apologize if this is not the best memory to bring up. I just ran a program and it said this would be the best one for us to talk in. Again, sorry, you… are you doing okay?” The voice started, filtered through a heavy electronic overtone that made it difficult to discern, at least at first.

“You.” I practically growled back, marching into my living room and staring blankly at the television screen that seemed to be displaying the very words that voice had spoken.”

“Yes, it’s me. I’m saving as much energy as I can so I’m using your local memories, and not importing any of my own. Hope that’s alright?”