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Summary
Besserbuy presses his palms over his eyes, cutting off a cry before it leaves his throat. His head aches sharply, like a hot wire drawn through his skull, but it eases; he's tricked his brain into thinking he's gone blind, so his secondary eyelids slide over his eyes and cut off the sensory organs that connect timelines and visual input.
It won't stop the gragmentation-- he can feel his atoms vibrating apart-- but it can keep him sensible for long enough to escape it, and it's more than normies ever manage. If Besserbuy wants to get off this station alive, he'll have to find tremb-tech to root him in the proper universe and pole-vault himself to another location, torque the properties of the purified steel against the inexorable press of relativity. The heretic has a tremblade, so all Besserbuy has to do is take it off him, preferably after he's removed the guy's head.
It won't be a bother. Killing never is, but killing this guy will be a relief in more ways than one.
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