Panicked Arrival
09 Dec 2016Hersilia
It was light, too light. The whole room was illuminated by several spot lights embedded into the ceiling. The clean white walls bounced the light around the room, it reflected off of everything. Every object had a sheen to it. Even the door, which lead to the main corridor, reflected light off of it, adjacent to which was a work surface much like a kitchen counter. Inset into the counter was a deep sink with an automated tap system, turning on the flow of water when it's sensors had been triggered. On either side of the sink, laid out with much consideration, were many different types of Imperial medical tools. Some, if not most of them, were banned in Federal space. Each culture had their own ways of doing things and quite often shunned the other. To the left of the work surface there was a horizontal rectangular window, the only one in the room. Stars zipped past at great speeds, tiny beads of light punctured the darkness. To the right side of the room lay a grey, metal medical table. A white sheet had been draped delicately over the top of the ever so still patient who occupied the bed. A soft compression of gas reverberated from the near by ventilator, along with a gentle beeping of a heart monitor. A herd of drip stands stood huddled around the head of the bed. Clear, clean bags hung helplessly from the small arms protruding from the top of each stand, filled with intravenous fluids which seeped into the corresponding tubes, snaking down and piercing fang like needles into the patients skin. Feeding the fluids into thin, nearly wasted veins. Hersilias' eyes flickered slightly, though still closed. She could hear a heavy rushing of air, rhythmic. It seemed to rise, stop. Then descend again, this repeated over and over, each time getting louder. The hairs on her right arm and neck stood on end. It was cold. She listened carefully to the sound of the intermittent flow of air. Up...Stop...Down...Up...Stop...Down...Up...Stop... Where was the downward inflection? Slight confusion entered her thoughts. She didn't have enough energy to figure out what the noise was, let alone try to think why it had stopped. A strange straining sensation fell upon her chest. It became tighter and tighter. Suddenly her eyes snapped open and a large breath escaped her lungs. The tightness in her chest faded. She found herself staring upwards at a sterile ceiling, a mask attached to her nose and mouth fogged up with each sharp outward breath. She threw her legs out to the side of the medical bed and threw off the white sheet that had been placed over her. A gasp broke the still air as she noticed her legs were bare and wore a white gown which had been left open at the back. She pulled the mask off, letting go of it carelessly paying no attention as it clumsily fell. A shiver ran through her body as she pushed herself off of the bed and touched bare feet against the cold metal floor. Holding onto the side of the bed she attempted to walk towards the door of the med bay but her right arm was caught. Tugging.. trying to release herself she felt a snap then a gentle stream of warmth trickled down her arm onto her hand, eventually pooling at her index's fingertip and dripping steadily onto the floor. She turned to see what had caused the snag, it was half a dozen tubes snaking their way into her right arm and chest. A rough metallic grip pulled at them and with a sharp jerk, they came free. Several more trickles of blood ran down her arm and chest as she finally hobbled towards the door. It opened with a quiet hiss and she stepped through.
As soon as she stepped over the threshold the pristine gown started to lift up into the air, along with the rest of her. Quickly she ended up a drift in the middle of the corridor fighting with a rogue floating medical gown, lifting up above and covering her head. Eventually she managed to hold it against herself, covering her dignity once more. Feeling flustered she gripped onto the hand rail and pulled herself towards the helm of the ship. The corridor was just as clean as the medical bay and just as bright. Immaculate. Further along she stopped for a moment, the join of flesh and metal hurt, days of not using it and the lack of nutrition made it hard to use. Stopping with her back resting against a wall she rubbed the join tentatively and noticed that her real arm was now thinner than the augment, but she was determined not to give in. She wouldn't let it be her downfall. Grimacing she decided to carry on down the hallway, her hand gently clanked against the rail as she pulled her nearly weightless body along. Over all it was quiet. The low hum of the engines reverberated through the corridors. Softly, slowly getting quieter and quieter as she made her way towards the front of the ship. It was nearly silent as she reached the end of the last corridor. Carefully she gave herself a large push away from the walls. Calmly and gracefully floating out into the space behind the pilots chair like a specter, unheard and unseen. Gazing out of the large window in front she expected to see a vast painting of the stars and gasped out loud in shock when what she really saw was a huge, spinning Ocellus Startport. Her body froze in fear. He'd brought her back. Back to the bubble. She was doomed.
"This is Cmdr Ni-" she cut him off, yelling and screaming about how she couldn't be here, how he had sentenced her to death if she was ever found. He was startled by her sudden outburst and presence. He'd left her unconscious in the medical bay for a good reason. He couldn't have a patient running, or in this case floating, around the ship ranting and raving, like she had been for hours after he had roused her from passing out the first time. He had tried to calm her but nothing had worked, so he'd resorted to sedating her until he got back to some proper medical facilities. Standing up from his pilots seat, seemingly outwardly unphased by the sudden outburst, he straightened his uniform, took a deep breath and turned to face the distressed, floating girl in front of him. His grav' boots clanked along the floor as he walked, looking thoughtful and concerned. He spoke in a calm, quiet voice;
"And you would be?" he looked up at her, trying to hide a faint smile. She hadn't even given him her name. He thought he'd try his luck again this time with her being out of arms reach. She sneered and turned away partially.
"Hersilia...Exile of the Federation" the latter of her title had been muttered. 'Exile' was not a word to be flaunted around. Especially when you were inside the bubble, next to a heavily armed Starport. The combination of the two words 'Exile' and 'Federation' should definitely not be said around an Imperial, but it had been done. Niatras' face burst into shock. She turned slightly to look at him. Edging round to try and judge his thoughts before facing him properly. He didn't seem angry, or disturbed. Just curious. He studied her for a moment, watching her movements and noting how her temper changed so quickly. Like flicking a switch. After a short time of thought he asked how and why she had come into this situation. Hersilia closed her eyes and started to tell him of the events leading up to her exile, the unspoken deal with the judge and the death of Magnus. Their conversation went on and on but finally after raised voices and one slap, Niatra had heard enough.
"Well then exile... I suppose you ought to get some proper clothes on." smirking he gracefully sat in the pilots chair while simultaneously flicking a couple of switches. The gravity in the room became stronger bringing Hersilia down to the floor gently.
"Down where you came from, door to your left" he grinned to himself as he eventually got round to holding the comms switch down. As Hersilias bare foot touched the cold metal floor a shiver shot through her, making her realise how cold the room really was. She pulled the medical robe further round her frail body and stumbled over to the hand rail, supporting herself with her left hand. The hard brutish metal of the hand scraped against the rail and Hersilia glanced over her shoulder to Niatra, seeing if he had heard the screech of metal. He hadn't, at least it didn't seem so, he was too focused on guiding the ship into the mailslot of the station. Turning back around she muttered some obscenity to herself and hastily hobbled back down the corridor and into the first room on the left.
She wasn't looking forward to this.