Trauma - Chapter Seventeen

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As Gregory regained consciousness, he tried to move his Argonaut. It responded, barely, as it should still move even with minimal power, but all of his systems were blacked out. He was dark inside, no feed, and was forced to manually unlatched the porthole to try and get his bearings. It was blocked, and as he tried to force it open dirt began to pour in, and he cursed. He couldn't even die right, plunging thousands of meters into the ground, and somehow his machine absorbed the impact. His head hurt. A stinging, tight pain at the base of his skull. He tasted copper, and felt wet in and around his ears. Everything felt off. The system restarted, but he couldn't read it. He felt confused, angry. He's screwed up. His family. His mission. The Captain. It all hurt so much.

"God help me..." he moaned. It hurt. He tried to stand up, the metal of his Argonaut groaning in protest. The reactor was damaged, shutting down, but he still had ambulatory functions. It hurt so much. In his head, it hurt so much. His family. He'd killed them. He killed them because he couldn't even kill himself the way he wanted to. He was a coward.

"God... help me..." Gregory began to cry. He'd ruined everything. They knew. It was all over. He'd single-handedly undone it all. Even their enemies weren't so incompetent. It was over.

Unless it wasn't. Unless he could still save this. Still save his honour. Yes. It hurt, but he knew what he had to do. He thought he knew what to do. But his head was so clouded. No evidence. Evidence was found by people. Witnesses. He had to make it go away. Make them all go away. He could do that. Yes, he could. He just had to stand up. He fell in the Lows. He could salvage this. Nobody would miss a bunch of Hybrids.

"God help me," he whimpered one last time, "I have to..."

How bad is a secret if there's no one left to tell it?

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