Freeport Eleven: Medical

[Jazzi]

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14.01.834

Freeport Eleven, Omicron Delta

Ward D, Medical Bay 14

Emergency Inpatient CW187E

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...Beep...Beep...Beep...Be-Kathunkchuchuchuchu-ep...Beep...

Black gives way to purple and pink as eyes open. Sore. Painful. Unfamiliar tension on the right cheek as stiffened gauze pulls taut.

...Beep...Beep...Kathunkchuchuchuchu...Beep...

A cold rush through the nose. Oxygen. Eyes open wide. Sight returns in a slow transition of oozing colour to solid definition. A room, a medical bay, drowned in the hues of a world outside. The colours reflect off the metallic white surfaces of the ceiling and floor.

Sound returns. With a vengeance the cacophony crescendos from silence to roaring thunder. The pings of monitoring machinery. The wet thumps of pumps providing painkiller fluids and nourishment. The humming din of the station's operation. The piercing whine of tinitus.

Touch. Touch remains absent. Pain. Pain remains absent.

A woman's body on a bed clad in a light blue patterned medical gown. Their arms lay by their sides, sleeveless to the shoulder, to allow for bracing at the elbow. Tubes at the wrist. Their flesh was a tapestry of bruised yellow and purples and black. It's familiar. Her... body? Pain piercingly pounces; a pinch at the neck that cascases into a chorus of aching, damaged muscle. Everywhere cried out to be heard.

...Blip...Blip...Kathunkchuchuchuchu...hisssss...Beep...

Relief. Cold and numb. Cold. Numb.

She could see her flightsuit. Rather, she could see what remains of it. A collection of cut , cindered and torn leather pieces bundled into a see-through bag. Sitting on a wheeled table it wasn't alone. Her PDA with screen splintered and casing cracked. An oval gemstone, purple cased in gold. Cheap at a crafts fare on the station. A piece of folded paper. It looked pristine and couldn't be hers. A note?

A pained groan escaped Catherine's lips as she lays her head back down and rolls it to the side. Nothing to do but gaze out the glazed, vacuum sealed window at the ice cloud and try to recall how she came to be here. The presence in her mind. The chase around Toledo. The presence in her mind. The blue-white ocean of an unfamiliar system. The presence in her mind. The fight alongside an Order agent. The presence in her mi- canopy cracking, vacuum venting, freely floating. Darkness.

Solemn. A name thrown into consciousness from a part of her mind previously subdued. A part of her mind ignored. Instinctual self-preservation bottled up by the demands of a conscious will. Hawkins. Empress. Overcome this influence and get help. How? Her PDA was broken. She couldn't move. Her fingers couldn't find an alert button. No one was here. None of them knows she's here.

...Blip...Blip...Kathunkchuchuchuchu...hisssss...Beep...

Relief. Cold and numb.

Daros...Hammurabi...

Cold, numb time gazing into pink and purple clouds.