Crossover
The ion storm scatters his atoms to the universe's farthest quadrants. His will draws them back together. In pieces he materializes, collapsing to the transporter pad of the Buran. Blinded and dizzy, he readies himself for the knife.
But the crewman at his side isn't holding one.
"Are you all right, sir?"
It's a soft voice, solicitous. More sickening than that, it's sincere. A voice without knowledge of how to curry favor.
Lorca shoves aside the man's hand and staggers upright, reeling as his memories finally arrive from the void of space.
"What happened?"