The blackness of space flared red. His time perception ebbed, flattened, winked.

Clarity returned.

Scott felt the drift of weightlessness inverting his bleeding stomach. Globules of blood drifted into view. He watched two tiny red droplets merge into one. They once nourished his body, but he refused to allow that knowledge emotional impact. After all, it no longer mattered. He was adrift in space, his crippled Allied Consolidation cruiser beyond repair.

Scott couldn’t be more alone, barely surviving, far from any Allied space port. The rest of his crew already dead, Scott knew little time remained before he’d join them.

He glanced at the flickering console. It only confirmed what he already knew. Life support would extinguish in less than an hour, not that it counted much. At the rate of his current bleeding, he’d be dead long before the air ran out.

Scott lay back against his blood soaked headrest. He stared at the star speckled view-screen. It seemed about the only ship component that remained flawlessly functional. He chuckled at the irony in his ability to view space with perfect high definition clarity, as his life faded into oblivion.

Scott watched tumbling debris enter and exit his view. Far to the right he saw what remained of the Allied flag ship VOX Ahura Mazda. There wasn’t much left.

Another explosion caught his eye, as those last remains of that once massive Consolidation vessel disintegrated further. He released a heavy sigh. If he’d clung to any hope, this only confirmed it’s utter vanity.

Scanning the full panorama of near space, Scott could find no intact ship from either side of the battle, not even an enemy to help bring his misery to a swift end.

Resignedly, he closed his eyes and prepared to accept death’s cold embrace.

He felt almost giddy.

Consciousness slowly faded.

A quiet warmth filled Scott, as the blackness of space drifted into his soul. He welcomed the end of his pain.

Nothing… he knew what it was to be nothing. In that he finally found peace.

Scott gasped. He inhaled deeply, and opened his burning eyes abruptly.

He lay embraced within a soft olive green membrane. A putrid light dimly illumined the chamber. An acrid smell assaulted his nostrils.

Hideous creatures leaned over him. They bore no resemblance to the familiar alien enemy, nor anything else Scott had ever seen. Multi pseudopodia wiggled asymmetrically extending and contracting randomly from their slime covered bodies.

Horror and disgust stabbed his heart.

Alien thoughts invaded Scott’s mind, “We conserved your essence. Your damage was extensive, and required much augmentation. Such is the duty of the Preservers. We tried, but preservation could not salvage any of the others with you. We infused you with our regenerative fluids, and you now resonate with preservation. Preservation be praised.”

Scott gazed down at his naked body, immersed in olive ooze. His skin looked more like these alien benefactors than his own. And certain important body parts appeared missing. To Scott what they called preservation, looked a great deal more like mutilation.

Why couldn’t they have just left him in peace?!

Trying to scream, Scott found he no longer possessed vocal cords. Not only that, but his reconfigured mouth refused to open. These body components had become redundant, in Scott’s newly preserved form.

He quivered with abject mortification.

Scott’s alien terror confused the preservers. Naturally preservation stood out as decidedly preferable to the true horror of cessation. No doubt, in time, Scott too would come to recognize this, as well.

Preservation be praised.