Glargh sat alone in his quarters, praying quietly to a cross he kept hung above his bed. Being on his knees to pray made both of his legs hurt like mad, yet he found the comfort it bought his mind worth it. When he prayed, it felt as if the fog around his mind was lifted and he could think clearly. And praying was the only time he found clarity, leading to Glargh rattling off engineering details, components and general details of his day to the big man himself, despite his dubious belief that he actually existed.
The door slide open and the captain walked in, followed by an android. Glargh's eyes widened at the sight of the android, causing him to immediately rummage through assorted papers on his desk, knocking various design documents and dusty magazines to the floor. He grabbed firmly a loose pile of notes and hobbled over to the pair.
"Hey Glargh, Cestus is going out for supplies and is asking if anyone wants anything. Anything you want?" The captain asked. Glargh nodded and smiled, causing small flakes of green skin to crack and fall from the corner of his mouth. He handed a small piece of note paper to the captain. On it read:
"Glargh's Personal Shopping List
-Latest issue of Galactic Geographic
-Pens
-Pencils
-Notebooks x3
-New bedsheets"
Handing the list over caused Glargh to look over at his mattress. Latent fuel that had lingered in his skin had slowly deteriorated his current sheets, turning them to little more than scrap fabric. He hobbled over to the android and enthusiastically passed her a piece of paper. On it was scribbled various different diagrams of the engine and a title, "can improve, need parts." At the bottom of the page Glargh had written a long list of technical names, components and tools that he would need to make improvements to the engine. "Anything else?" The captain asked.
"Glargh," said Glargh, shaking his head.
Once the android and captain were gone, Glargh quietly slipped from his quarter's, now wearing his trusty utility belt, and limped himself over to the doctor's room. He slid a small note under the door and then moved away. He did the same with Kyo's room.
As he dragged his body to the airlock, the skin on his legs cracked open for what must have been the third time that day. Little droplets of blood fell on the floor behind him, leaving a small trail to the room where the other crew members were assembled.
-
The moment Glargh stepped out of the ship and onto the station, his nose was assaulted by the smell of the ship's fuel. That smell was the reason he hated docking bays so much, and the memories it bought with it caused Glargh to break into a sprint, only causing the re-opened gashes on his legs to open wider, pouring more and more blood onto the ground.
-
It was quiet in the chapel. Glargh had sat in the small church for hours, his mind filled with complex technical images. A thousand new designs came to his head each minute, only to be promptly forgotten the next. Idly, without realising, Glargh had taken to using the small screwdriver on his utility belt to etch these designs into the walls of the Church. Thankfully, nobody was around to see, at least for the moment. Having spent his few hours in peace, he opened his eyes for the first time in what felt like eternity and looked at the wall next to him. In it, he had carved out hypothetical designs for handheld railguns, armor adapted from ship alloys, and at least three different recipes for Macaroni and Cheese. He ran his scarred fingers along the markings, trying to figure out a way to take them with him. Before he had a chance, the chaplain entered from the door behind him and placed a hand on Glargh's shoulder. "It is time for you to leave." And so, without argument, Glargh left.
He stepped outside, noticing a few strangers nearby look away and speak in hushed towns. Glargh tried not to cry as they spoke about the abomination on board the station. Glargh felt as though it was his lucky break when he looked over to see two people actually approaching him, although things took a turn for the worse when one pulled a switchblade from his pants pocket. "I hears you came in on tha' Soaring Sparrow. One piloted by tat 'Merlin' fella or whatsever they call 'im."
"Glargh Blargh?" Asked Glargh Blargh.
"Yous some kind of retard or somethan'?" Said the strange man, approaching Glargh.
Reaching down, Glargh quickly pressed the button to turn on his com-net device.
"You is gonna die just like mah uncle did."
The man lunged Glargh, the disfigured man only barely having the time to move out of the way. The second man was fasting, landing a punch that knocked Glargh back against a nearby wall. He grabbed his plasma torch from his utility belt, igniting the little jet of energy and using it to swing at the armed man. He suffered a burn to his hand, dropping his switchblade to the ground. "YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT" Screamed the man, grabbing Glargh's wrist and twisiting it around. He dropped the small plasma torch and screamed, only emitting a garbled moaning sound. Glargh swung his free hand around and dug disfigured nails into the man's wrist, giving him enough time free to turn and run. "YOU AIN'T GOING NOWHERE!" The two men gave chase.
With his legs already damaged, Glargh didn't stand a chance. He was pushed roughly to the ground. "Glargh Blargh!" He pleaded, trying to put his hands up to defend himself, but his attackers simply kicked around them, each kick forcing more air from Glargh's lungs.