tickling at her brain. She tried to think more clearly, but the thought ran off.
Cryogenics was still a largely unexplored science, primarily because there weren’t any successful cases to work from. Perhaps these people could change that. If she was the one to do it, it would be her name circulating. She allowed herself a brief fantasy of recognition, perhaps coming with an undemanding research position. If they would only allow it.
Personnel moved ceaselessly around her. Her thoughts continued along their own unbroken path. She recalled how there had once been those who’d sought out her honest and outspoken views. She’d been encouraged to look beyond the surface of so many things, to see the roots of evil hidden below. Through the years, her supporters had faded into wan shades of themselves.
They hadn’t liked some of the notoriety that had followed Doctor Hawke. Ultimately, this had been the reason for her entry into the military. She’d been granted a commission and sent somewhere far enough away to keep out of trouble, but near enough to keep her under control. If she had been more introspective, she might have realized it. Instead, she viewed her current circumstances as the sort of menial work one must put in to attain eventual glory. Her stupor was broken by the sound of the Colonel’s voice.
“Let’s wake them.”
He chewed his lip after tossing out the order. Strangely, he hadn’t yet thought of this as a situation that would be dictated by command, so much as by science. But there it was. He stood silently by as the enlisted personnel moved in sync with their officers, getting things started. This in spite a lack of fully understanding the direction in which they were headed. Did they know what they were getting into?
The compartments were opened with far less resistance compared to the larger door. Carefully, with the delicate touch of archaeologists, they extricated cold bodies from metal tombs. Tark found himself needing to let go of the particulars of the mystery for now. He hadn’t come to any plan of action, and he couldn't come up with any tangible reason not to inform his command.
Yet, he found himself reluctant to compose that message. The need to do so was an undeniable eventuality, if only to keep ahead of rumor-mongering. He did feel that it would be wise to proceed carefully when informing others of this find. In order to protect these unknown persons lying in deathlike repose, if nothing else. They were now on gurneys, perhaps to be ponderously making their way back to life.
If there was any way for Tark to make a promise to protect them, and still fulfill the oath of his office, he’d do it. He glanced back at the first of the “patients”, the dark-haired woman. No clues as to her origin stood out on closer inspection. She was pushed out the hatch and down toward the naval clinic. He watched as the remaining five moved past him to join the strange caravan, while medical staff worked over them on the fly.
Three men, three women, in all. The men were of a common height. One was white-blond with chiseled features, very deliberate. The second had the look of a man who had learnt all the secrets of the universe, so peaceful and wise was his sleeping demeanor. The last male was more broadly built; a scar ran from an eyebrow into his dark red hair. One of the nurses commented that the last one would seem more natural with a long beard, animal skins, and a battle-ax. Tark felt the truth of that, purely from a visual standpoint.
The women were more diverse. Besides the one who had been pulled out first, there was a woman whose hair was braided in tiny plaits. It was gathered into a large knot at the back of her neck, where it continued down her back. She was dark, beautiful, frozen into perfect form. She was not as tall as the first woman was, not nearly so. Nor was the last one, who was fair, dusky blond, and curvy. She was pretty and compact; an embodiment of captured energy, like an insect trapped in amber.
۞
A swirling black hole looms in the distance, sucking everything in, wrestling consciousness away from helpless bodies. Later, she would say that was her last waking memory. Now, something tugged at her, splintering the darkness into needles of crystallized vision. She sucked air in, out, in, out; she was swimming in warm waters.
Yes, she was swimming, on vacation with her parents. Six years old, ducking under the sunny waves like a mermaid, until a voice called. Little fish, come out of the water, time to leave. Back to a landlocked existence. She ignored the calls a while longer, exchanging grins with chirping dolphins, tickling painted fish that were almost tame. Even so, air runs out. Her head bobbed above the surface, and that dream of childhood faded. Something unknown tugged on her again from above, then yanked...hard.
The young woman lay on an examination bed. She started to move slightly, and startled everyone with a sudden cry. Tark questioned Doctor Hawke with a gesture; she shook her head in response. They waited, anticipating the woman's next motion, sound, or response. It seemed to span an eternity before finally her eyes flew open to blink away tears from the assault of light.
Their patient gasped, feeling her heart protest after the flood of chemicals and electric stimuli had caused it to resume its normal function. Oh, it...hurt? Yes, hurt. Things inside her began to move, and she knew somehow that they hadn’t moved in a very long while. Her lungs filled with air again, carrying a familiar scent. Sanity and civilization. She couldn’t think whether she belonged to either of those or not.
The fabric of her memory was ragged and moth-eaten. Squeezing eyes shut, she concentrated so painfully she thought her ears might start oozing blood. Her brain struggled to respond to these internal pleadings. Thoughts jostled into place; years, months, days, until she began to slide down an unmarked crevasse. There was something missing in her mind, hidden just out of reach. Every time she thought she had a glimpse, it would dart away into the shadows.
Tark watched her face change expressions, wishing he knew what was going on inside her head. It was almost excruciating to witness this silence. She opened her eyes again after about ten minutes, and the look she gave him crushed him like the gravity of dying stars. She was living across time and space, not yet aware of the darkness of the vacuum just outside, trying to find familiar territory. It was time to ask questions, to sort out this tangled mess.
“Hello there. Good to see you awake. I’m Colonel Jorge Tarkington. Can you tell me your name?” His voice echoed back to him, while he realized that he’d addressed her as one would a child. Hawke was in the background, after he’d firmly told her to stand aside. This was not something he trusted her to handle.
“What is this? Am I in a hospital?” Faces gazed at her, unreadable, refusing to offer even a crumb of comfort. Someone say something. Please. The colonel person continued to watch her expectantly. “Maeve.” She finally offered this while stubbornly withholding a surname. He smiled.
“What’s the last date you remember?" He continued to watch her carefully. 0What kind of a question was that? Come to it, what kind of a hospital was this supposed to be? She put a trembly hand to her forehead, hoping that she was having some sort of hallucination.
“I don’t know. A lot of guys want to buy me dinner. You might have to be more specific.” Was she playing around with him? Or was she really that out of sorts? Tark wasn’t looking to force her cooperation. It was up to him to set a tone, clearly. Tark tried to squelch his impatience. All the excitement of what was going on had gotten to him more than he’d realized, but that wasn’t going to bring answers. Serenity, on the other hand, might. He drew in a deep breath and plunged in, trying to imagine how he might react what she was about to hear.
“There’s no way to sugar-coat this, but there is something you should know about where you are.” Not to mention when. “As far as we can tell, you have been in some sort of stasis for an indeterminate period of time." It had to be a joke, but the face of the colonel belied only seriousness. She struggled with emotion. Even worse, her brain still felt like it was running on quarter speed.
It was an effort to follow what this person was saying to her. There was a little too much to take in all at once. It was ridiculous though,
because she couldn't immediately recall how she would have ended up in a cryogenic (was that the right term? she couldn’t think straight) facility. She wasn’t even sure she had ever given the technology any kind of credence, either. Why couldn’t she think clearly? A doctor-looking lady spoke up, anticipatory in her tone.
“I think we should begin to revive the others. It's evident that...” She seemed ready to give a dissertation. Maeve cut off the woman.
“Others? What others? Why didn't you mention that yet?” She was getting agitated. They had to get her to lie back. She acquiesced, knowing that she was at the mercies of these people. She was powerless.
“I'm sorry.” Tark said simply, and sent Hawke off to finish reviving the rest of the occupants of the container. Once she’d gone, he clearly felt freer to speak. He looked the young woman over, still feeling a protective urge that he couldn’t explain. Blood flow had resumed its normal rate; she was not so pale as she had been. Death had removed its hand from her brow, and he was glad of it. The rest would take time to be regained. She looked exhausted and frail to the point of hollowness. A week or two in the long-term care facility ought to help.
“Do you feel alright?” She nodded, mouth set grimly against spoken word. He tried again. “Would you like to know what year this is? It might be a shock to you though, I suppose, if our people have dated your ship accurately.” To that, her lips parted, and hovered, half open for a long pause before she said anything.
“Tell me. Let me in on the big secret.” She might have been sarcastic, but the malice was absent. Her voice was barely above a whisper, conspiratorial.
“Twenty-two seventy-six.” He pulled back, inches really, wouldn’t have done much good if she’d wanted to grab at him, but his point was made. She stared at him, as though she could will his words to unhappen. Maybe it was a practical joke. That was a moderately comforting thought. Ah, or even more sensibly, a training exercise. Wait, training for what? The big blank spot in her brain mocked her.
“Well. What do you know. I can’t think of a single thing to say that would make sense of any of this. And I’d usually have some clever remark, I think.” She sighed, and looked down at the floor. It was just a matter of being utterly confused. Not that big a deal. Maybe a bolt of lightning would come through the roof of this place and remove her from the land of giving a crap.
“I have a feeling that things will sort themselves out. In the meantime, let me be the first to welcome you on board the Nimitz.” He swept an arm outward, presumably to indicate the entirety of the place. She frowned.
“As in the admiral? Like we’re on a ship?” She still didn’t quite get it. Wrong kind of ocean.
“Well, more like the vacuum of space than water, and more like a big giant military base than a ship.” He wasn’t sure what she was making of all this.
“Don’t I feel smart. Could someone just hit me in the head with a blunt object and make the bad man go away?” She was holding her head again. Tark wasn’t sure who the “bad man” was, but he suspected that it was a turn of phrase, and not directed at him. He didn’t have a chance to try and figure it out though; Hawke was back to making pronouncements.
The naval clinic had turned into a center of activity with the other five bodies on the tables. The doctor moved from station to station, waving her hands and giving loud instructions to her nurses and interns. Maeve struggled to her elbow, straining to see faces, desperate for a flicker of memory. Anything that might seem familiar in this strange, cold