Awakening
Marcus slowly fought his way back to consciousness – struggling through nightmarish memories combined with feelings of loss, surprise, and pain.
He saw the expanse of star-fire relentlessly engulf the greening world he had begun to think of as his home. He watched, helpless, as the work of decades instantly transformed into charred and molten debris – the carefully-balanced atmosphere blown away in an instant. He saw Steph, in her last moments, looking up in shock and horror as the burning wall touched her and she became nothing more than a cloud of rapidly-dispersing atoms. Straining for her hand, he screamed soundlessly as the fire reached his own fingers – instantly incinerating whatever it touched as it began to consume his body...
Blinking, he found himself on the main deck of his ship - standing face-to-face with Steph... but it wasn't the Steph that he knew. She pointed a weapon at him, her face curiously unreadable and harsh. He reached out to her, only to once again writhe and scream in agony as something struck him to send a wave of paralyzing electricity surging through his body. As he collapsed, he looked up to see her aim her weapon at his head before pulling the trigger...
"AAAAAA!" He cried out as his eyes shot open and he pushed himself up, his breath coming in ragged gasps as his racing heart echoed his terror. Taking several slow and deep breaths to calm himself down, he began to examine his surroundings. Glancing down, he surprised himself with the discovery that he was sitting on some kind of table with a large fabric sheet draped over his legs and hips. He was certain that he wasn't aboard his own ship anymore – he could feel the differences that weren't visible. He couldn't explain to himself why, but the vibration of the ship itself felt... somehow... wrong.
A metallic click compelled Marcus to lie down and covertly watch as the door opened with an electric hum to admit a young girl carrying a bundle of something in her arms. She walked over to a table by the wall and placed the bundle on it, either oblivious to Marcus' presence or assuming that he was still unconscious. As she checked what seemed to be a computer monitor, he silently pondered her appearance – she looked to be about ten years old, her dirty blonde hair pulled back into a shoulder-length ponytail. Her clothing was oddly dull – simply a grey wrap-around tunic-and-belt with slightly lighter loose-fitting slacks. She tapped a few keys on the console before turning and walking towards the door. She was about to press the button that Marcus presumed would open the door when he decided to take a chance.
"Where am I...?" he remarked.
The girl jumped at the sound of his voice, her green eyes reflecting surprise behind her red-rimmed glasses as she turned to face him. "Oh! You... you're awake?" she exclaimed. "You weren't expected to recover so quickly." She looked at him with a combination of confusion and concern. "How... how are you feeling?" she asked, a quiver in her voice emphasizing her nervousness.
Pushing himself into a sitting position, Marcus swung his legs off the edge of the table and slid off the edge – stretching his arms above his head as the sheet covering him fell to the floor. "All things considered, I seem to be doing quite well. Your timely appearance probably saved my life, so thank you. I..." He interrupted his statement when he noticed that the youth was trying to both stare at him and avert her eyes at the same time, surprise and confusion evident on her face. Looking down at himself, he realized the source of her distress. Grabbing the sheet that had dropped to the floor, he wrapped it around his waist and tied a knot to prevent it from falling off. "I apologize for embarrassing you," he said with a smile as the girl let out the breath she had been holding, "Perhaps you could tell me where my clothes are?"
"Oh! Oh, right! The uniform you were wearing was damaged, so I brought you a new one." She pointed at the table where the bundle Marcus had noticed her carrying in lay.
With a slight frown, Marcus considered he had just been told. My outfit is self-repairing, he thought, there's no way it would need to be replaced. How could they not know this? Either this girl is lying to me, or someone else lied to her. Deciding that this was a problem we would deal with later, he walked over to the table and opened the bundle. Lifting each item of clothing for inspection, turned his head to the girl and raised his eyebrow. "You're kidding, right?" he muttered skeptically, "I'm pretty sure this won't fit me properly – the proportions are wrong."
"I'm sorry," the girl admitted, "but it's the closest thing that the Quartermaster had. There should be enough stretch in the material for it to fit you."
Realizing he didn't have much choice in the matter, Marcus grinned at the girl. "All right," he said, "I'll try them on. But I have to tell you, they're not really suited to my taste at all." Ignoring the look of bewilderment the girl gave him, he added "You may want to turn around while I get changed – wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable again."
"I wasn't uncomfortable!" the girl exclaimed as she stomped her foot on the floor-plate before spinning on her heel so she was facing away from him, "It's just that you're so... so... different! I've never seen anything like you before!"
Something else to add to the list of puzzles, Marcus thought as he pulled the slacks to his waist and felt the material lightly press against his skin, how can she not have been exposed to... wait – why did she use the word 'anything'? Something is seriously wrong with this situation, and I have to figure out what it is. Setting those thoughts aside, he finished dressing by fastening the belt at his waist and pulling the boots onto his feet. He looked down at himself and considered his appearance.
The boots and slacks were a light grey in colour – very much like what he would normally wear, although tighter and more form-fitting than he preferred. The tunic was black with red trim, and a stiff grey-white band crossed his chest at a point slightly below his throat. The sleeves were rolled up and held in place by a strap that fastened at his shoulders. The shoulders themselves were adorned with strange red padding that almost made him feel as though he was constantly shrugging. Uncomfortable, but unwilling to refuse the generosity of his hosts, he pulled down the edge of the tunic and said to the girl, "Okay, how do I look?"
The girl turned around and smiled at him brightly. "Very nice!" she exclaimed with a smile, "just like an officer ready to lead her troops into battle!"
Blinking in surprise at how she worded her statement, Marcus responded with a smile. "Thank you," he offered, "although most of the people where I come from wouldn't exactly consider that to be a compliment."
The girl widened her eyes, apparently shocked at his admission. "What do you mean, 'where you come from'? Aren't you..."
"AMY!"
The sudden outburst caused the girl to cringe, while Marcus turned to the new voice. His eyes widened as he recognized her – the angry version of Steph from his nightmare hallucination.
Ignoring Marcus, the newcomer glared at the nervous child as she strode into the room while the door closed behind her with a hum and a click. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.
"Ummm..." the girl, whom Marcus presumed was named 'Amy', tried to stammer out an answer. "Its uniform was gone. I just thought..."
"You violated protocol and broke Quarantine," the intruder said angrily. She then shook her head once before continuing. "I'll deal with you later – you're dismissed."
"Yes ma'am!" Amy answered quickly as she stood stiffly and placed the balled fist of her right hand over her chest. "I'm sorry, ma'am!" she added as she ran to the door and left the room.
As the door slid closed, Marcus stared at the woman before him, confusion evident in his expression. "Was that really necessary?" he asked, "She was only..."
"Be quiet!" she barked, cutting him off. "I ask the questions here, not you! You're a prisoner here - and if you don't provide me with satisfactory answers, I will toss you out the airlock with the rest of the trash! Do I make myself clear?"
"Clear as crystal," Marcus answered, while thinking to himself.
What have I gotten myself into...?
