The former captain of the Tulpar sat, if you could call it sitting, in the dim glow of the med bay. The orange light reflected off polished metal, amplifying the hum of the ship’s systems in his skull. He stared blankly at a poster of beach waves, his bloodshot eye refusing to close. Solitude only brought him emptiness and pain. Any small movement sent fire through his raw, bandaged skin, reminding him this broken body was all he had left—and he had earned it. Each breath and throb was a reminder of his failure, a weight he could neither escape nor fight.

With no hands for comfort, he remained as still as possible, focusing on what he had left—exposed teeth, a lidless eye, stinging in the artificial air. Every jaw movement aggravated the ache, but it was all he had. He never wanted to be a burden, but here he was, waiting for the small relief that allowed him to endure.

When the med bay doors slid open, he froze, eye darting to the doorframe. Right on time.

Pill time.

His relief was that it was the Tulpar’s medical intern today, someone he could endure, even appreciate. They stood quietly preparing his medicine, and he gave a low groan in greeting. Besides Anya, they were the only one who could hold a conversation with him now. Being around them made him feel… normal, like he might become his old self, joking about psych evals as if everything was fine.

But it wasn’t, and he knew he’d have to live with that for as long as he remained on the Tulpar, away from civilization, proper treatment, and stuck with the man who had caused it all.