FFM 2026 17: Crash down

Now continuing from where we left off at FFM 2026 15: Comeuppance: Delivered.

Trigger warning for brief discussion of self-destructive behavior.

90 words over the limit. It was a pain to cut down. Also big “fuu” to Scrivener’s wordcount system counting words connected by / as different words.

This is very much a vent fic. I had planned to spotlight the effects of the isolation that Steirdrar is dealing with around this time in the storyline but instead my focus shifted to how being indefinitely and prolongedly stuck at the mercy of the system that enables you to have food and shelter and having the constant risk of getting thoroughly screwed over by someone who has power in that system basically “just because” screws with his (read: my) psyche because what the fuck else can I even do anymore except shout into and flail at the empty air. Steirdrar is having a more intense response to his situation than I am to mine, however, as his circumstances and stressors are far more dire than mine and he has absolutely no support network that can do anything to help if the system he’s dependent on turns against him (and thanks to proper survival training and being fit, he could actually survive just walking into the forest and disappearing from society, although grabbing relevant tools before walking away would help a lot).

So yeah. Not where this storyline was supposed to be going (I had a different mental breakdown planned for Steirdrar considerably later down the line) but Steirdrar is pretty close to perfect for me to use as a vent for my own problems, so here we are. At least one of us has what it takes to act on the flight instict when the anxiety starts getting too bad. Also fuck whatever I plan for my stories because the characters always do what they want when they want.

Yay. /s

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Beyari and QWERTY left on a supply run before Steirdrar managed to gather the courage to bring the utility belt up with Beyari. Thus, he was left alone with thoughts that were running in vicious circles that kept him awake at night and became worse the more sleep-deprived he became. He did not want to offend Beyari but he also did not want to acquire another vulnerability when he was already indefinitely stuck and isolated in the AIRF by owing her.

He was stuck in there and no matter what he did he could not get out. There was no way out. He could not get out.

He recognized that he was having a panic attack but he had to get out.

He got up from his bunk, changed his clothes and walked out. If anyone noticed him heading to the trees, they did not call out to stop him.

The urge to just run away did not lose its hold on him when he made it to the clearing he had found earlier. If anything, it gripped his chest harder. He wanted to just keep walking and walking and walking away until no one would bother pursuing him anymore, just get away from it all. Or maybe he could get off-planet with someone and join some fugitive crew that stood more to lose from turning him in for the bounty than keeping him in the crew, just fly free without being trapped in the AIRF and be completely free to defend himself without jeopardizing his survival. The Skaf’Enenitaa probably would not take him, Bloodletter as he was, but maybe some other crew would be happy to have him. He was highly skilled, after all. He was very useful if given the chance to make use of his training on the field.

…And if he got betrayed and delivered to the IRS anyway? At least he knew the consequences, the risks. He could prepare himself mentally for it. He could take whatever the Interrogators would do to him before he would get either tossed into a maximum-security prison to rot or executed. He had been trained to take all that.

This he was not sure he could take anymore. This kind of isolation, being so impotent without being restrained… he had not been trained for this. He had been trained to endure a lot, but even he had his limits — and he had also been trained to listen to them and escape when things got too much, if possible.

Only now escape was not possible and all he could do was grasp at imaginary straws to find even a hint of an illusion of a way out of this. But there was no real way out so he could not escape so all he could do was continuing trudging forward day after day after day and not get out this base was not a prison but everything about it was starting to feel more and more like that and he both could not take it anymore and kept taking it all the time because he could not just destroy himself, at least not in any way that would change anything because working out until he was about to drop just did not achieve that and-

CRACK!

Steirdrar froze entirely save for the rapid-fire pounding of his heart and too-shallow breathing that his body insisted on. He heard approaching footsteps. He wanted to close his eyes and block out whatever was going to happen but he could not help but keep staring ahead.

The footsteps reached the clearing. Steirdrar could not see who it was from his shelter but he knew they could hear him.

“Hello?” a voice called out to his direction. A rough, maybe Eskel-Zai, accent, a fairly deep voice coming through a speaker.

Steirdrar stayed still, hoping against hope that the person would leave him be.

The footsteps started approaching his shelter slowly. “You okay?” More slow footsteps. “You sound not-okay.” Armored boots came into his view. “I only know first-aid but my mate is in Medical, I can call ’em if you need help.” The person knelt, revealing an Eskel-Zai-style visor. “It’s okay. I just came to check up on you, ‘at’s all.”

Steirdrar did not want to deal with any of this, any of whatever would happen, so he just squeezed his eyes shut and withdrew into himself to endure all of this.

“‘At bad, huh?” the Eskel-Zai said softly, barely loud enough for him to register. “May I sit next to you? At least I prefer if someone’s next to me ra’er ‘an looking at me when I’m having a bad time.”

Steirdrar surfaced enough to nod his assent.

“Okay. I’ll let my mate know real quick where I am and what’s up so ‘ey won’t worry.” After a pause, the Eskel-Zai moved next to him, far enough not to touch him.

Then it was just the sounds of their breathing, his pounding heart and the forest. As the panic attack died down, Steirdrar uncurled and eventually turned to actually look at the Eskel-Zai. Human-like body type. Green-black striped armor with the Clan Foot emblem on the pauldron. They kept looking ahead even when he moved.

“Nice place. I get why you came here,” the Eskel-Zai spoke, their voice still soft. “My clan had similar nooks, back inne day.” They turned their head towards Steirdrar. “Am Zafme Iazyer, Clan Foot, he/him, by’e way.”

“Steirdrar Urrang, he/him,” Steirdrar murmured in response, “though you probably knew that already.”

“Mm. Word travels when one of us takes note of an outsider.” Iazyer paused. “How are you feeling? Better?”

“Better, yes. Thank you.”

“Want to still stay here?”

“For a little while, at least.”

Iazyer nodded. “May I stay?”

“Of course.” Steirdrar did not dare say out loud that he appreciated it.

Iazyer nodded again and turned to look at the clearing.

Steirdrar turned his head to the clearing too and felt a bit more at ease.