"Guys! Something's wrong! I'm....." -- Mount Mon

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Date Posted: 20:47:23 04/23/02 Tue
Author: Ensign Christopher Braddock
Subject: "Guys! Something's wrong! I'm....."
In reply to: Ensign Christopher Braddock 's message, ""I'm in."" on 19:39:15 03/06/02 Wed

Chris never finished the sentence as, to his surprise as well as Nathaniel and Mercado's, he fell forward, through their supporting grasp.

Chris threw his hands forward, the cold rock of the mountain bruising the palms of his hands. He shook violently, his mind reeling from the sensation of what felt like passing THROUGH his friends' arms as though they weren't even there...or he wasn't.

Nathaniel began to take flight, and Chris looked up at the darkening sky to see his friend's wings fade, his long hair slowly giving way to the sharp crewcut of a Rugby officer. Justin Grey didn't have time to scream before he hit the ground. Chris tried to call out to him, but no words came out of his mouth. Nearby, Mercado's armor was sparking but he stood firm as leaves and branches spun by, caught on some mad breeze that wasn't there.

Chris looked at the bruises on his palms and tried to calm himself, to remind himself that this was just a dream, that his own clarity of thought guided his safety. There were bruises because he expected there to be, and if he didn't...

Nothing.

The bruises remained and as Chris' hand faded and he saw through to their dream guide Biggs, Chris began to wonder just whose dream he was in, and if the dreamer were waking up. Biggs looked the worst of all of them, twin beams of light punching through the faceless guide's hooded non-facade. He flickered and became transparent, like Justin's wings, like Chris himself. Off to the side an apple grove stood that Chris hadn't noticed before.

Other than the leaves whipping past there was no evidence of wind, no blowing of their hair or feeling of a breeze upon their skin. Shakily, the young ensign stood and wandered into the grove, noticing naught but rotten apple cores upon the withered branches tugged by that same unseen wind. He knew this grove, had played in it with his brother as a child. But it wasn't like this, never like this. The dream had become a nightmare.

The trees faded around Chris and he turned swiftly to run back. Too late, the rock crumbled and tumbled into the abyss! He remembered every nightmare about falling he'd ever had and how real they had seemed at the time. But now, physically falling within a rapidly changing dream reality, those childhood phobias couldn't compare.

He felt hands grab his arms and a sudden rish of air as Nathaniel swooped down and grabbed him from certain death. As they reached the peak once more he had a bird's eye view of Mercado and Biggs making their way toward the outer structure, their way lit by The Bolt as the guards beckoned them forward.

"What the heck WAS that?" he shouted, the moment his feet were on the ground again, "Is that another one of your storms, or is something else pushing that nightmare ahead of it? You know what; maybe don't tell me. Sooner we're back on the Nova*Beacon and I'm at a computer console the better! I wasn't cut out for this hero gig!"

Words to the contrary, Chris actually argued when both Nathaniel and Mercado insisted he wait outside with the guards. Whatever forces were at work had affected Chris more than any of them, even Biggs. The effect had passed but the sky seemed a little darker, and none of them knew what awaited within.

The doors swung wide and Mercado, Biggs, Nathaniel and the Bolt stepped inside. Exhausted, Chris slumped against the wall and smiled feebly at the two guards, who had gone back to their posts and taken little notice of him. Chris wondered if he'd see his friends again...

"Stay safe....I feel better knowing you guys have the Bolt and Biggs along but...

Johnny. Jenn. I've lost too many already. But there wasn't anything I could have done back then, and there isn't now; i just gotta accept it and hope for the best.

Sometimes, acceptance just sucks...."

Within the dream realm of Dah'Li, it would be the last thought Christopher Braddock would have.

"It's not what you are, it's what you don't become that hurts."
-Oscar Levant (1906-1972)

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Replies:

Me must go. NOW! -- Biggs, Dream Guide, 19:16:26 07/15/02 Mon