Chapter Text
There was silence—true nothingness—before the screaming of an alarm and the hiss of an opening stasis pod suddenly brought me back into consciousness. The cryogenic mist oozed sluggishly from the seams of the pod, slowly clarifying the world outside its hard, metallic shell. It was a small cell, dark and cold, lit only by flashing red lights. Sparks erupted hazardously from the walls, the life support dropping rapidly, according to the woman’s voice on the intercom. I shook the sleep from my body and hauled myself out of the pod, legs shaking as I walked towards the exit of the room. The air felt thin, hard to get a full inhale of, and I couldn’t stop the thought that I was going to die here, in this unfamiliar place, not even remembering my own name.
I thought for a moment amongst the hailstorm of new stimuli and sensations, realizing that I could remember much less than just my age. I was obviously in my early 20s, that much I could see in the reflection of the pod, but as much as I racked my brain, I could find no trace of memory within it.
The world seemed to shift to a dark, hypnotic blue, the communication system stating that power had been restored. A slightly translucent wall of undulating air materialized before me, creating a menacing buzz of energy that uncomfortably prickled my skin. I reached out to touch it, to see if the apparent force field had turned fully back on yet, causing a painful shock to shoot up my shoulder and knock me to my knees. I cursed under my breath, the nerves in my arm firing wildly as I cradled it to my chest. It was overwhelming, how strong and painful the feeling was, like my skin was on fire, the muscles underneath contracting to the point of tearing. It brought hot, burning tears to my eyes, and my already weak legs gave out. I let myself slip to the floor, its cold, unforgiving exterior providing some slight, hazy comfort against my broiling skin.
I let myself take a deep breath, trying to calm down as the pain took its course. It had to stop eventually, I thought, vague intuition telling me that I could wait it out. I hoped so, at the very least. The pain was starting to settle into a dull throb in my arm when the door to the cell abruptly slid open. Suddenly, a large black man with deep brown skin poked his head in the doorway. His face was pulled into a tight look of concentration as he scanned the room slowly before entering. His clothing was similar to mine: a pair of thin pants made from a stiff, breathable material paired with a crew neck t-shirt. He scanned the room, seeming to not notice me for a moment before his eyes locked with mine, causing the physically imposing man to nearly jump clean out of his skin. He pulled his gun on me, his broad face twisting into a cautious frown.
“Who are you?” He asked authoritatively, clear anxiety lurking behind the stern facade.
“I don’t know,” I hissed through my teeth, still unsure of the situation, yet rightfully pissed off by its developing circumstances. “I woke up in the stasis pod maybe…20 minutes ago? I don’t even remember my name,” I lamented glumly, unsure if this stranger would even believe me. He looked at me for a prolonged moment, his expression completely unreadable before he spoke into what I assumed was a comm in his ear.
“Looks like we have a 7th passenger.”
After a moment, he lowered his gun, and soon enough, the wall of pain disappeared. Crankily, I noted that my arm was still uncomfortably buzzing. He reached out to me and pulled me onto my feet with little effort, his impressive stature casting ominous, bulky shadows against the deep-blue light.
“Here, I’m going to take you to the infirmary. While we walk, let me explain what I can. But first of all, you can call me Six.”
And explain, he did.
Nothing made sense, and nobody knew who they were, or why I specifically was locked in a holding cell on a ship no one could claim. As we walked through another long, sterile room together in uncomfortable silence, another man appeared standing over a strange box.
“So, you’re the seventh, huh?” He gesticulated lazily, turning over his shoulder to look at me. He had unkempt sandy brown hair, scruffy facial hair, and wasn’t wearing the clothing Six and I were. He had on jeans, a fitted t-shirt, and a leather jacket with a plethora of pockets.
“Three,” Six said, frowning at him. So this was Three. The man started to say something, but the words never came. The smug grin slid off his face as a slender, pale hand shot out of the box before him and grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt. The hand pulled him back down hard, slamming him into the metallic container before sending him flying across the room.
Surprisingly, a woman emerged from the box. She had blonde hair pulled into a tight french twist, and despite her odd attire and apparent superhuman strength, she seemed perfectly normal. Hell, even on the prettier side. She advanced on Six before he could react, grabbing him by the shirt before promptly launching him across the room with startling ease. After disarming the two male threats in the room, she turned to me. Her blank brown eyes stared straight through my own as her grasping hand reached out to me.
Her hand was sliced clean off before she could touch me, and yet, she didn’t even flinch. I looked to where her hand had been in alarm, surprised to see sparks of electricity jumping erratically from the stub. An android? I turned my gaze to where the sword had come from and locked eyes with an East Asian man. His dark hair was cropped close to his scalp, and his outfit was different from the stasis pod standard as well. It was all black and fitted to his lithe, muscular frame. He only spared me a glance before looking back to the Android, who turned her head to face him.
“Jesus, turn that thing off,” I heard Six say from across the room before the android’s eyes flickered uncannily to black. There were two loud gunshots, and the android’s body jerked with the impact of the rounds. She unceremoniously hit the ground in front of me, revealing Three, who was glowing with pride as he blew the smoke from the tip of his gun. I watched as the man with the sword scooped the android up in his arms and waited for Six and I to get back to our feet.
“I say we space the bitch,” Three said, rubbing his shoulder where he’d been thrown into the wall.
“We need to speak with the rest of the team,” the Asian man said. He didn’t seem to be straining in any sense with her slung over his shoulder.
“Four’s right,” Six said slowly, sitting up from where he had been thrown with a low groan. “We’re a team, we can’t make decisions like that without talking to everyone else.” So, it was Four who was carrying the Android and her detached hand.
“Can you get up? We need to keep moving,” Four said, turning to Six. I nodded, scrambling over to Six. I reached an arm out to him as he grimaced from his impact with the wall. He took my hand and allowed me to steady myself before pulling himself up with a disheartened “thanks”.We followed Three and Four back to the medbay soon after.
We arrived at a cold, sterile room packed with medical equipment and a holding cell that I assumed was the sick bay. Six gestured for me to sit down on an examination table, the painful buzzing sensation still tormenting my arm. Six riffled through several drawers before grinning to himself and handing me a small, silver compact. It was filled with a thick, translucent balm that smelled both sweet and spicy. I took it and read the label, scanning over the fine print. It was a topical analgesic, so I dug my fingers into the compact and gathered a fair amount. He took the container back and grabbed some as well. We massaged the oily, warm balm into our respective injuries, the pain melting away as Three and Four spoke together in the background.