Post
by Morse » Mon Sep 28, 2020 8:51 pm
As Morse drank less the cryosickness got better. As much as cryo was slowing down his aging, the missions were making up for the lost time. The trade off was leaving his body as a mess, and it was doing things to his mind that were going a bit beyond the normal wear and tear. Morse at home people were getting older, and he was having trouble coping. But likewise nothing out of the mundane and ordinary happened in their lives that helped them along in decrepitude. Morse had bullet scars, burns, and was missing a leg as a proof to his life was anything but ordinary. And while at home, Morse had found himself drifting to old habits.
Morse was drinking again. Not as much as in his youth, his body wasn't handling it well. But less was going a longer way then he liked to admit, and he was not feeling so good.
Anyone that knew him who had been on missions with him in that part of thepast... Sam... Sykes... Paulson... would recognize the tell tale sweat and pale face he displayed in that moment... he'd been drinking before cryo.
Was he cracking under the pressure of leading marines? No more then usual. Was he breaking under the futility of the endless mission to save the galaxy from itself? It certainly had sapped everything he'd initially joined for. Was it the site of the dead and the dying and the knowledge he could be next tearing down his faculties? Dead was dead, and living was living. Those had not changed.
Morse may have been a changed man from the young southren that enlisted years earlier, but he had been the way he was for years, and taking or leaving one bad habit didn't change that much.
The droid came around. Morse heard him speak but it came in a hazy low volume murmur to him, but he understood the questions. But his stomach boiled, and his eyes were sunken. The droid would understand the cause of this feeling, but perhaps would not entirely compute Morse's reasonings... and despite having enough time to feel better about serving with synthetic persons and getting passed his own biases... some of it never went away.
"Morse. Staff Sergeant" Answered the first question, feeling a bubble form in his stomach.
The next question was asked.
Morse pointed at the console next to his cryotube that had the same data. The droid persisted, but Morse had the bubble find its way to an exit. The burp that came was despicable and filled with acid.
"buhhh, fuck off robot. Morse replied after a horrific tasting belch."I gotta piss." Morse stumbled to the latrine and relieved himself. He felt better... but not great. He'd finish the questioning after.
Morse made his way over to the other heads and breathed through his nose to get back in control. Morse recognized the new responsibility handed to the newer ranks given they were reinforced. Not a bad thing, but Morse was having a difficult start to his day... and his mood always showed it.
"Ya, welcome to the top a the shit show." Morse said with a half smile, the haze leaving his head.
<Tag Sam, Sykes, and Sakalova
When the food was brought up Morse dined on a usual stew he always made. A mixture of oat paste, bread, eggs, and other things that soaked up what was in his stomach. Years of experience had taught him that while it looked terrible to the average person, it did wonders for making him feel better. He did remain with the other NCOs, knowing better then to over interact with the subordinates when he was in the state he was in. But he was near enough to Henniger to ask him a serious question.
"They fill your leg with bio bits or robot parts?" Morse suspected it was robot parts like his own. They were the cheapest and easiest to install... and likely came with a thousand side effects.
<Tag Henniger.