Dr. Landra was attending to the lab's daily inventory, logging every action she and her staff had taken for the day.  It was nearing twenty-three hundred hours and the completion of her log when the machines in the next room began chirping with activity.  Her newest patient was waking up.

She flew out of her chair, the log and a stack of reports left to fall, scattered, where they may.  She took a brief moment to follow protocol, alerting the admiral and security detail that their presence was required, before excitedly rushing to the stasis pod.  

The man's eyes were open.  Landra composed herself and put on her most professional face, despite her own heart rate rising dangerously.  This moment could make or break the rest of her career.  She unraveled her stethoscope from her neck and let the old man see it before she moved closer to check his vitals again.  He stiffened a little, but otherwise made no response.

"Welcome back, sir.  My name is Dr. Landra, I've been taking care of you.  I know you have a lot of questions, but first I need you to answer a few of mine.  I promise we'll start small."  She began with simple things she knew she'd be able to read without too much effort on his part.  She gripped his feet lightly, and felt his reflexes recoil in response.  "You can feel that.  That's good," she said encouragingly.  

The security team on duty that night had shuffled in silently, as Landra had instructed, so as not to startle the patient.  There was no telling what trials he's endured, no way to possibly predict what sort of reaction he would have to an armed detail.  She ignored them as they filed in around the room, guns raised and ready to react.  She'd have rather not had the trigger-happy devils in her infirmary to begin with, but orders were orders, and she wasn't fool enough to abandon protocol.  The Colonial Fleet had no place for dissenters.  

  "You're safely aboard the C.F.S.S. Sagitta.  We discovered your ship early the morning before yesterday, and my team brought you aboard."  She paused.  "Can you understand me?"  

The man only blinked his wrinkled eye lids and stared around the room.  He was eyeing the heavily armed men without much expression.  He was either severely disoriented and didn't know what was going on, or he didn't care.  She took that as a good sign, as opposed to an infinite number of infinitely worse alternatives.  

The End

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