Vladimir Sepid, once captain of the most important vessel in all of the Dragon fleets, sat with his back against a nondescript wall and gazed up at a similarly nondescript ceiling. His once proud Imperium naval uniform ripped in a number of places, shreds of it tied together and now hiding his mouth from view. His hands lay slumped at his sides, palms up, and his eyes remained unfocused as they continued to stare straight ahead.
His connection to the Web was gone, no longer in contact with the vast array of knowledge he had come to rely on. All at once he was stripped of everything he had come to know, in a prideful way, as the things that made him superior before all others. The Daemun crew seemed to vanish all in the same instant, collapsing through the ships floor as though they were turned to dust. He had seen many Daemun come and go from ship to ship in much the same manner to know this was not the case, but still it was disconcerting.
Then nobody came, nobody signaled and the Rosary was left to its own devices. The Flagship of The Universal Daemun Church and her Captain, floating through space on a course uncharted. Unable to signal for help, for aid or even information. His connection to the ship itself was as strained as his own mental faculties without the Web, it was as if the ship itself was dying but there was no way to tell why.
"From all evil, deliver us."
He repeated the prayer once again, for the countless time in however long he had been adrift in space. The grassy hills and trees that had once adorned his beautiful command deck had long since turned grey. He knew this to be odd, expecting that if they too were dying that they should be expected to turn some normal color. Browns would be appropriate, he thought, and found himself dwelling on this until he tried to consult with the Web and remembered with some sadness that it was no longer available to him.
"From all sin, deliver us."
The quality of the air had become stale, that was the second noticeable sign of the ships failing capacities. He had tried to shield himself from inhaling too much CO2, if that were to be a problem, but if the ship were to die then surely he would die along with it. He snorted lightly at that thought, as it came to him, at least he was going down with the ship. Unlike those of his crew who simply vanished... He wondered idly if they were actually a part of the ship and not real people like he had thought, only to be scrapped by the ship when it started to die. He decided not to think on this for too long.
"From Your wrath, deliver us."
His connection to the ships systems slowly declined as sub-system after sub-system became unresponsive. Nothing read as wrong, no damage was done to the ship, no unexplained celestial phenomenon to explain what might have caused the ships disconnect from the rest of the Imperium. No, every node in the Imperium would need to be taken out of operation for a blackout of this level. A situation beyond unfathomable, it was simply impossible. Yet, he was here and there was no one out there, a lone man in a bottle of night waiting for his time with his maker.
"From the snares of the wicked, from everlasting death, by Your glories deliver us."
The stars shone not as bright and his head hurt... the last flickering image he could get from the ships sensors, before they too died from his connection, was the looming form of a sun. It seemed to be getting closer...
"From all evil, deliver us..."
