Remembrance 0: Awakenings - B
14 Nov 2024Astraeius
Commander Astraeius - 10th of September
“Welcome back to the world of the living, Commander. Slowly now, you're still waking up.”
I should have listened. Instead, a cold, blue, over-bright light seared my eyes as I opened them. What had been a gasp for air turned into a shocked scream, and then into pained wincing. Half-blinded, repeated blinking taking away what remained of my eyesight, and with my own moans and a ringing in my ears deafening all other sounds, I had to rely on smell to get my bearings.
And immediately I shuddered, overwhelmed by a sharp scent of disinfectants and medicated sweat bringing me back to childhood visitations of elderly kin. As the ringing subsided and I controlled my own paint, the faint beeping of vital monitors and low, continuous, hum of air purifiers confirmed my suspicions: I was in a hospital. The gel caressing the skin on my back was not the familiar coating of a starship pilot's chair, but that of bio-support pod, and I did not feel nude due to how comfortable my flight suit was: I was actually not wearing any clothes.
I reopened my eyes, slowly this time, consciously lowering my gaze to avoid that dastardly bluish light. It settled on the plastic-coated figure of a doctor standing at the foot of my bed. On her calm yet focused expression as she went through what I could only assume were readings of my vital signs. And on the grey outline of the Imperial eagle emblazoned on her shoulder, as if the bright polished curves of the medical machinery that surrounded her were not already betraying the hospital's allegiance.
“Breathe in slowly, Commander,” the doctor recommended, still monitoring my condition through her screens. “Your vitals are stable, and you're safe here. I am Dr. Ingram, and you are in my care. Whenever you feel ready, we'll run tests on your nervous responsiveness, just to make sure everything is truly fine. But first: can you name the current Emperor, and the current year? I need to ensure your have not suffered any memory loss.” I did, and she nodded. “And can you remember how you have ended up here?”
I chuckled, without glee, as I prepared a witticism about the risks of the trade, until I realised, not without some horror, that that could not be the full story. Because I remembered the first Basilisk, I remembered the second, and I remembered the Evenstar's cockpit fracturing under a slew of caustic acid. I remembered tearing up as I jumped into the escape pod, and I remembered the anger I felt at seeing my ship's drive explode in front of me as I drifted away from it. And yet, I also remembered the pod's systems failing when an incoming Interceptor released its pulse. I remembered the pod cracking open as a Scout hit against it, and I remembered the pain of something metallic piercing my vest and then my ribs. I remembered nothing else.
“How did I survive?” I asked, as my hand rubbed over my miraculously intact chest.
Dr. Ingram's lips twitched ever so slightly. “Technically,” she started, slowly, before sucking on her teeth. “Technically, Commander, you did not survive. You had already been clinically dead for several hours by the time the Rescue Rangers recovered your pod. What was left of it... I'm sorry, I did not mean to be dismissive.”
I shook my head, and she continued: “Luckily, there were measures in place in your name, should this type of accident occur. Your real name, Commander Astraeius,” she added, probably noticing my confusion.
“Ah...”
“And, Commander?”
“Huh?”
“The revival measures being in your name... So were the associated costs.”
“Ah...”
Welcome back into the arms of the Empire, you are officially broke.