I am alone in the medbay, recumbent under an intense light. An oxygen mask has been hastily strapped to my face, partially obstructing of my vision. Thankfully an IV seems to have been put in with more care, and a clear liquid flows ice cold into my arm. My head sinks slowly to the side, and the medical display fades in and out of focus; all I can fathom is that every possible indicator is flashing red. I must be dying. The emptiness is again upon me.
After an unknown stretch of time, voices intrude into my void, at first a dull murmur, becoming clearer. Though they are familiar to me, I am too lost to identify them.
"My god, it was close, sir. The missile breached the shield room and the air was nigh unbreathable when I got there."
"You did a fine job, O'Regan. The Mantis had us on the back foot, for which I take full responsibility. Have you effected repairs?"
"Aye. sir. The ships' systems are fully operational. The hull though - we're an egg ready to crack."
A pause, as footsteps track around me. Someone sighs heavily.
"The ion storm crippled our defenses. The treachery of space almost killed a crewman. I cannot abide it."
Footsteps move to join the first pair. They must be at the window.
"Aye, space is a dark lady."
A long silence follows.
"O'Regan, you will remain here with Stelly. Contact me when we are ready to jump."
"Aye, sir."
More time passes in silence before I find the strength to open my eyes. O'Regan sits nearby with one leg crossed, reading an engineering manual intently. I take the opportunity to observe him more closely than I have before. Even at a young age, practically the same as myself, his red-blonde hair has begun to recede, leaving a large widow's peak with a short curl at the front which brushes his forehead. In the military fashion it is cropped close. Although his brow is furrowed in concentration, his face still has as many creases as a man twice his age, deep bags a light blue-purple under his gray eyes. Here, sitting in complete silence and ignorant of my gaze, he still gives the impression of trustworthiness; his honest nature permeates his worn exterior.
Perhaps sensing my eyes on him, he looks up slowly, and upon seeing me awake, smiles warmly. He claps the book shut and stands.
"Stelly!" he exclaims jovially. I smile back weakly. "Managed to get me to do your repair work, eh?" He chuckles and squeezes my shoulder. The med-bots flicker over me, hard at work repairing my damaged tissues. My vital signs rise slowly on the screen behind O'Regan.
In a few hours I am as whole as I was before the attack. O'Regan accompanies me to my station in the weapons room, and opens a comm channel to the captain.
"We're all right as rain here, Captain!" he says with a wink to me. I flash a smile, but mask my nervousness by pretending to examine my control screen.
"Very good then. Prepare to jump," the captain replies. The communication ends with a series of tones. O'Regan slaps me on the back, jostling me, and I wave meekly as he steps back to the engine room. Within seconds the floor begins to vibrate and I hear the FTL drive pitching up as our little tin can begins to hurtle towards the next beacon.