With his hands placed deeply within the wells of his coat pockets, Jasso meandered the corridors of the [i]Copernicus[/i]. He had come from yet another check of the cryobed loop systems, and once more, they were performing at its required efficacy. This was no small miracle, despite the advanced technology that was the backbone of the system. Or perhaps, it should be said that this was accomplished [i]in spite[/i] of the advanced technology of the cryobed system. 

Dr. Bieto Jasso had completed his engineering of the means to sustain humanity across the vast ocean of the galaxy in record time after the beginning of The Change. It had been a laudable, and valiant act of genius borne of necessity. But, the swiftness by which this technological feat had been accomplished had come at the high price of reliability and efficiency. In truth, the beds that held humanity’s remaining progeny were woefully flawed. A scant few were privileged, or more aptly burdened, with this truth. The cryotechs, a few engineers, perhaps the NI-techs, and Jasso himself, were the extent of those in the know about the cryobed system's true nature. 

Even so, no one had yet died while in the cryobeds. At least, not as a result of the system itself failing. 

It was this fact that set Jasso wandering aimlessly amidst the now mostly quiet starship. The itch. The brilliant, psychopathic man had lost his outlet. His means of release. The one and only tool by which he could scratch at the growing desire in the back of his dark soul. Sylus Adams had been that tool. A tool honed precisely and carefully with Jasso’s own hands, and intoxicating cult of personality. 

No more. 

Jasso found himself within the cramped confines of his bunkroom. As the door hissed shut behind him, the man slammed his hands down upon the small desk that stood beside his bed. His eyes were dark, wide, and wild in the dim light of the room, and he resembled every bit the animal caught in an ever-tightening snare.