Hot and Sour Soup

If sulking were an art form, Alex reckoned he'd currently be Ship Champion. He'd spent the last few days wrapped in a scratchy ship-issue blanket locked away in his quarters, emerging only briefly to fetch soup from the nearest vending machine, and talking to no-one (occasional jumbled utterance to his PalmPuter - “Virtual Companion” mode - aside).
He'd not even spoken to Holly, despite the computer's best attempts to lure him into a game of monitor-based Connect 4. The last human he'd spoken to was Cass as he'd passed her and Roboshah in the corridor. He'd known it was rude to stride right on past but none of his shipmates deserved his bad temper. Well, maybe Pancake.

Thankfully nobody had attempted to summon him so, apart from consuming soup, he'd spent his time in bed fiddling with the PalmPuter, watching trashy films and cartoons, drinking, smoking, staring into space, and trying to avoid thinking about the soul-jarring sensation of seeing Jess apparently alive, close, and in the flesh. It wasn't that he still loved her, he didn't even like her - she hated him - but it was bizarre. It stirred memories, and she was a connection. To them. To then. He had no idea where the ship was heading but if it wasn't three million years back in time, he wasn't currently interested.

At one point someone had left some medication outside his door and he'd taken it, assuming it was the anti 'glowstick' medicine, it might not have been but he wasn't fussed, perhaps it would help anyway. Whatever it was, he no longer had a severe case of what he could swear he'd heard one of the others call 'Strainy Painy Pants', which was a relief.

Maybe this was it now, perhaps the others would forget him and, perhaps, that wouldn't be such a bad thing. Sure he was in danger of gaining a beard, and losing his marbles but who did he have to impress, his PalmPuter? The Hot and Sour Soup dispenser? They wouldn't mind. If they did he'd just have to put on the uniform he'd worn for the inspector, which now rested, crumpled, on the floor. Perhaps one day he'd go and find the time drive, the image of which lie glimmering occasionally at the edges of his mind. A man had to have a dream. He realised he was chuckling aloud, at nothing in particular, which he'd not done since his days on DS. What he wouldn't do for some DS.

He sighed and turned back to “Cops III. Jake Cop, Joe Cop and Jimmy Cop in an all-cop thrill ride of cop on cop action” which, disappointingly, wasn't as kinky as the title suggested.

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