PROLOGUE: Walk It Off
{Day 0, 2335 approx.}
This place…
What?
Where?
Why? How?
He walked slowly, bare feet sorely slapping the hard ground. The light was faint and apparently indirect, though the walkway was spacious. He was half-clothed— not that he was aware. Thoughts of his state of decency stayed at the back of his mind. Thoughts of hunger, thirst, weariness, confusion and loneliness, among others, took precedence.
The pain was so numbing that he didn't care about anything— couldn't, aside from his needs. The man's right arm hung limply at his side, dripping blood from the shoulder. For some reason, his left knee was stiff; he could hardly walk straight. Some kind of liquid rolled from his brow to the tip of his nose, dripping onto his parched, cracked lips. His torso was bleeding in at least four different places. Probably more.
Is this familiar? Maybe – eh, more likely not. Is there anyone here besides me? I need to know. But, also: what, where, why and how is this place here?
He kept moving forward, occasionally stepping sideways to note the size of the walkway. His vision was blurry and his legs ached from extensive use. The waves of pain accompanying each step brought about an unbearable headache, to boot.
—~—
Wha…?
What's this now? Wait, grass?
Is this grass? How?
How can there be greenery in the middle of a tunnel? Unless this is the exit, or not what I thought it was…
But that doesn't explain why I can't see it.
This seems too dark for nighttime… unless it's a forest?
Or are my eyes worse off than I thought?
His helmet was still covering his head, barely attached to what remained of his flight suit, dimming his vision in its unpowered state.
He realised that he was on his knees when his hands brushed the ground. The grass was damp with dew, soothing to his touch. He enjoyed the sensations brought by the new textures for a while.
Then, he noticed something. Or, rather some things.
It seems too quiet to be outside, but, if I look above where the horizon should be, I can see some stars… barely.
I hear no insects chirping, no night-birds whistling… see nothing moving like an animal does.
But… I see dim stars and faint silhouettes. A field?
He completely missed the two moons behind him as he picked himself up again and resumed limping forward.
—~~—
Faint voices, as if distant – but perhaps directed to me. I can't understand them, don't know what they want… Their owners look strange – who wears ancient-Earth-style mail armour in the thirtieth century?
He stopped completely when they were within their polearms' reach. They tried to talk to him again, but he wouldn't have understood them at this point, even if they were speaking his native language. After a few minutes, they gave up on talking and organised themselves so that one supported him on their shoulder and the other carrying both weapons, watched out for danger to the exhausted man and the other guard. Before he saw whatever or wherever they were taking him to, his eyelids refused to open and his mind finally succumbed to unconsciousness.
~][~][~
A/N:
~ Here is the introduction of what once was 'something different'.
[Fixed the middle section.]