Location: Unknown, A-class planet, Cave system
Date: March 29 2728 — Standard Earth Calendar (SEC)
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I was falling. Falling down the valley.
Tap. Tap.
I miscalculated.
Tap.
I thought I had an advantage with aetherium-embedded needles.
Tap.
I thought that I had to be just fast enough.
Tap.
But fast enough against a pack of wolves, half of them with energy shields—
Tap.
—was not enough.
And the only hope I had lay in the poncho—a hope to take the blunt force of the fall with it—
Tap.
—and kill enough of the pack to survive after a harsh landing.
"Khaaaahhhh"—forcefully escaped from my lips as the valley floor kicked me in the back. Something gave in, not in a good way, and the darkness at the edge of my vision tried to claim my consciousness, my chance to survive.
Fucking no. Not like this.
The pack leader, the one I still failed to kill, landed in a heap, bleeding from the needler wounds, but still alive, still baring his teeth at me.
As with the badger before, its wounds were closing before my mottle-filled eyes.
Tap. Tap.
He tried to shift away from the needles, he really did—as before. But this time, he was a moment too late, and I won, I got him.
Roots sprouted from the ground, trying to wrap me, to hold me in one place again. As before, they lost their strength just by touching the painted armour plates, the aetherium. But in my state, that was enough to pin me down.
The last two wolves were still alive, standing above me, on top of the valley wall, but close enough to attack me with their trap abilities.
Not all members of the pack had energy shields, not all were able to mend their flesh, and the two left had no such abilities, bleeding from the wounds left by me.
Coughing blood, tasting metal on my tongue, I smiled, looking back.
Come here bitches.
As if hearing my thoughts, they jumped down and to the right, on the ledge that they had blocked me from.
Tap. Tap.
I caught one mid-jump, and its landing wasn't graceful. Whining pitifully, it slipped down from the ledge—good as dead.
Last one left.
More roots sprouted around me, failing to pierce through the aetherium, but still binding, still pushing me to the ground with unnatural strength.
I must have blacked out for a second, because the next moment, the last wolf's bared teeth were inches away from my face—
Tap.
—only to explode in a gore of blood and brain, and the heavy weight of the wolf's body pressed me down to the ground.
"AGGGHHHHHHHH!"—the sharp, almost blinding pain shot from my back through me, and for eternity I was fighting to stay conscious, to stay alive.
"…Kat, report," filtered through the ringing pain in my head.
"RW-7, report," jolted me, bringing back enough clarity and sharpening my focus again.
"RW-7, reporting R-E-D," I whispered back through the pain.
"Roger RW-7, assess your situation," a voice broke through the static-heavy noise.
But it was enough. Enough to start acting, to think, and do the right things, even through the pain.
"Pinned down. Don't feel my legs. Possible hostilities inbound," I reported back.
"Roger RW-7. How far from the cavern?" it asked, and I turned my head left—it was so close and so far away.
"Five metres," I whispered, feeling the darkness coming back again, filling the tongue and ears with cotton.
"Roger RW-7—"
Helpless, wounded, dying, just metres away from safety.
Not like that.
Digging into the soil with my left-hand fingers, I pulled myself with all the hate I felt.
Not like that.
Inch by inch, pull by pull, I dragged myself, never taking my eyes away from the cavern, from my goal.
Not like that.
"—Hold on, Kat, I am coming"
Somewhere there, I heard Lola's voice. I hallucinated the help she was mounting—to get me out of here, back to the safety of the cave.
Wishful thinking.
You can do it, Ladoga. Fucking do it, Katherin.
The vision tunnelled, and I saw only a single spot, the stone by the cavern, my goal. I needed to be there.
That was why the tall, the dark, shadow emerging from within the cavern was not seen until it was on me.
"I got you, Katee," I heard, and a hold of sharp pain was the last thing I knew.
—
Floating.
I was floating in warm, cosy, and gentle-bright lights.
Sometimes I heard laughter. It was a man's voice, deep but carrying, warming me from inside. I missed it so much.
Father.
At other times, I felt an all-consuming darkness creeping up on me from the other side of my safety bubble, taking something from it, piece by piece.
But the most persistent was the beat. Rhythmic beat that was reminding me of something—
Tuh-Dum, Tuh-Dum
—something important.
Wake up.
Something important, I knew before.
But each time I tried to remember, tried to figure it out—
Tuh-Dum, Tuh-Dum
—the darkness was coming closer, taking something from the safety bubble, again.
Wake up.
And only laughter, or gentle whispers of the man's voice, was bringing back the equilibrium between the two of them.
Wake up.
Opening my eyes, I saw the rocky surface before me. Or was it above?
"Kat," a familiar voice—I had heard it before—called me. Me?
Who am I?
The memories rushed back and, as if slotting the last puzzle piece, I remembered.
Katherin Ladoga, the heir of…
NO.
Katee. Katee Ladova now.
Lieutenant Commander Katee Ladova of the Naval Forces of Independent Systems Alliance.
"Report," dropped from my lips, scratching my throat.
The tube, the oh-so-familiar tube, touched my lips, and I began to drink, as if I hadn't tasted water for days. Perhaps I didn't.
"Report," I repeated, leaning back and taking stock of my surroundings.
I was in the tunnel, leading to the cavern above. It was hard not to recognise it now, especially in bright daylight.
My scaf, the pilot one, was next to me, crouching, moving on its own, putting away the water bag. It was painted in familiar paint, the ST-100 mix with aetherium.
That was not good.
"Seventy-six hours, twenty-eight minutes ago, you lost consciousness after receiving life-threatening injuries. Internal bleeding from a punctured left lung caused by a broken rib, fractured pelvic bone, tailbone contusion and… fractured lower lumbar spine," Lola said, and the scaf turned to the right, picking up another bag with the feeding tube—one I knew well too.
"Drink this," she said, pressing the tube to my mouth, and I obeyed, all numb inside.
"Assuming direct control of your scaf, filled with aetherium sand, I was able to retrieve you, and over the next two hours and ten minutes, you were operated on for the most severe damage, with a focus on increasing your survival chances," she continued as I was slowly consuming whatever was in the tube.
The taste was good, reminding me of the mutated animals' meat I so used to eat over the last week, but it barely registered in my mind, overshadowed by the realisation that I might have become permanently incapacitated.
"Your vitals were dropping, breaching the critically low levels, and with the limited medical supplies we had, your chances of survival were decreasing at a fast pace." Lola's words, while registered, faded into the background of my rising dread.
"Five hours, ten minutes later, as a last resort, you were fed the badger core with regeneration knot, as the most likely to increase your regeneration abilities, provoking expected mutations," she continued, and it took me too long to realise what exactly she said.
"To support rapidly cascading mutations, you were moved back inside The Anomaly field and were constantly fed a high-protein substance made from mutated animals. Twenty minutes ago, your fever broke, and your vitals and mutations stabilised," she finished, and the scaf's arm extended to pick up the empty, to my surprise, bag with the feeding tube.
The scaf stood up and walked away from me, down the slope, where only now I noticed some unknown items, bags, and containers.
It had put the empty bag into one container and, before turning back to me, picked up something from another bag—the scaf battery.
With a soft click, the scaf's battery slot opened up, and the old one, with visible signs of melting, was taken out.
"Unfortunately, the measures used to keep the scaf operational inside The Anomaly were inefficient, and I estimate complete failure in one hour and forty-one minutes of continued exposure," Lola said, while replacing the battery in the scaf.
"Now, I need a rundown on your status and ability to move. Please maintain your position inside The Anomaly," she added, carefully lowering the damaged battery into another container that hissed with steam when opened.
Processing what had been said, I was trying to grasp the level of my own failure, of the situation I had got myself into, stupidly. Irresponsibly. Being overconfident with The Anomaly.
I might have completely lost the ability to walk. Or I might have mutated into… If… if…
"Lieutenant Commander Ladova, get your shit together"—pierced through my foggy mind. The phrase I had last heard on Hellblade, though it was just Lieutenant back then.
It had helped me back then, and it helped me now.
Forcefully breathing through my nose, I squeezed my hands into fists until my nails painfully dug into my palms, and I focused on myself, on my body.
"Arms fully functional," I began to say, to report.
Taking a deep breath in until I felt the first signs of discomfort, I mentally compared it to the time before.
"Breathing limited to seventy per cent," I reported, and finally focused on sensations below… on my lower body.
"Absence of any sensation below the ribcage, no apparent feedback," I said, and with an exhalation, I leaned back.
There were no miracles, not after what she described.
"As expected," her voice surprised me, snapping me out of the mounting helplessness I felt.
"Based on recommendations from the anomaly-related dataset, we are going to proceed with hypnosis to take control of the regeneration ability. I will give you a rundown on the key points, but it has to be done by you. External influence is expected to have little to no effect, according to the dataset," she continued.
"Now, the first key point. You have to remember, as vividly as you can, your state during the last time you ran. Use as many physical sensations as you can," Lola said, in a rhythmic, low voice, and I just gave in.
It was not our first rodeo into hypnosis or autogenic training—it was how I survived on the Hellblade back then, and…
"Remember sequias, the breeze on your skin…"
—
"It's not fucking working," I gritted out through my teeth, giving the scaf a hateful look.
It was evening.
The lights above were getting dimmer, and soon the night would fall.
And. I. Still. Did. Not. Feel. A. Thing.
"It is working," Lola contradicted me, as if I wouldn't notice it first.
"Your breathing. Check your lung capacities," she added, halting my thoughts completely.
With trepidation, though already knowing the answer, I breathed in, and in, and in, without feeling any discomfort at all.
"Point," I said, exhaling and feeling… feeling not hope, but anxiety? Agitation? Perhaps even excitement?
"Let's continue then," I added a moment later.
"Food first," Lola interrupted, passing me a container of food, though still soft like goo.
Mechanically working through it with a spoon, I was focusing on my breathing, looking for any discomfort I had felt before. And finding none.
It was working.
—
Looking up at the tunnel ceiling, I was ignoring my burning face, trying not to think about what my scaf, what Lola was doing with my lower body.
Instead, I was paying attention to the inflatable mat under my back, used as my bed, or the thermal blanket that had been covering my naked body.
It obviously made the cleanup easier for Lola. I had probably wet myself a hundred times by now.
Not thinking!
Forcefully, I shifted my attention away from those intrusive thoughts.
Breathing. Lungs. It was working.
Yes, I needed to keep focusing on that. If… If my lungs recovered, and alarmingly fast at that, then it was just a matter of keeping at it, keeping at imagining what I needed, and I would get my legs back soon.
And control over the bladder and sphincter.
Groaning, I closed my eyes and tried to imagine the location of my blader, the way I felt it before. I needed control. I needed it now.
—
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The familiar sound of my Sixer, of the needler, jolted me awake from my half-sleep, half-meditation, where I was reliving my recent days, moment by moment, feeling them…
Tap. Tap.
It was dark. Lola had turned off the recon droid's lights at some point, probably to avoid attracting any attention, and it had worked—until now.
Looking up the tunnel, or where it had to be, I tried to see what she was targeting, or anything at all, but saw only darkness.
I felt a rush of air above me, and the heavy landing of the scaf, and the scuffle—
Tap. Tap.
—and more needles were sent into something, something dangerous to me.
I want to see.
The darkness faded away, and then I saw it, all in shades of grey.
My scaf was interlocked with some animal, a massive one, looming over the scaf by a metre or more.
And it was all happening in silence, broken by—
Tap. Tap.
—the sound of my needler and the shuffling steps on the tunnel floor.
With a metal-tearing sound, the animal collapsed, pulling the scaf down by its left arm—
Tap.
—and Lola severed it with a single shot.
"I got a present," Lola's voice cut through the silence unexpectedly, "It's a bear."
"Bear, alive?" I asked, mirroring Lola from days, weeks ago.
"I hope not," she said, and, grabbing it by the fur, pulled it down the slope, "really hope not."
I silently laughed, still tracking her movements as she passed me.
She dropped the bear as soon as she crossed the line into the Anomaly and turned back to me.
"You see me," she said.
"Yepp," I replied with a smile, "apparently, I woke up the night vision. And I think I know what to do now."
"About time," Lola replied, adding "this scaf is exceeding its limits."
As if waiting for her words, something sparked at the scaf's back, making me worry.
"Go ahead, Kat, I will keep a watch," she said, sitting down and pointing Sixer up the tunnel, holding it in the last arm it had.
—
It was all about the will. I had to remember not only how it was, but also to will it into the way it should be.
And so I willed as hard as I could, remembering but also expressing my will to control my bladder, to take back what always was mine—my body.
I remembered the pressure down by my bowel, I remembered the need to pee, and I willed it under my control.
To squeeze my muscles tightly.
Forcing them to obey.
Sweat was running down my temple, and my brows were so tense that it was almost painful, but I didn't let it distract me. I pushed through, pushed to the point that my imagination manifested a wall in my mind. The wall that kept me from assuming control, from getting what was mine.
Not today.
I did it before, not even knowing how—just doing it since I was a kid—and I will do it again.
I am doing it again.
Nothing was left in my focus, except for this imaginary wall that stood between me, mine, and the will.
I didn't know how long it took, and I didn't know what happened outside my focus.
I just knew that the focus, the wall, and my will were pressing hard against each other.
And then.
A white blinding crack, sending shocks up and down, and… I felt it all again.
But more, so much more.
The humming rush of my blood, the loud Tuh-Dum of my heart, ready to stop or speed up its rhythm at my will.
The hungry—oh so hungry—bowel, demanding food, demanding energy.
And shaky, trembling, but once again mine—my legs.
At the break of dawn—yet seeing clearly as if it were already day—I grabbed the container with the food left next to me and, ignoring the spoon, drank it all, gulping it down, as if there were no tomorrow.
In my inner sense, in my newfound feelings, I saw, I knew, I perceived how the food was aggressively melted, changed, separated and, entering my bowel, turned into energy, into building blocks that were enriching my blood, delivering so much-needed everything.
And I saw, I sensed, I controlled, the recovery of my spine, of my tailbone and the mending together of fractured bones.
In my inner sense, my body was lighting up like a holiday tree, with knots and pathways warping around it, and a new core pulsing in rhythm with my heart.
Tuh-Dum. Tuh-Dum.
It was beautiful. It was taking my breath away.
Tuh-Dum. Tuh-Dum.
—
It was the need to use the toilet, the need to release processed matter from my body, that made me move and put aside my newfound sense—the wonder—and focus back on the cold, morning reality.
And never before had I felt so happy to feel it all again.
Sitting up, wrapping the thermal blanket around myself, I realised that I had only one problem left.
I had not built a toilet yet, and the scaf, with the only septic system I had, was no longer available to me.
"You succeeded," said Lola through its systems, slightly shifting the only arm with Sixer in its hand.
"I did. But toilet first, talk later. And a shower, I need a shower," I said, trying to stand up on my legs again.
It was a bit overwhelming for my senses, but the control over my body I had now…
"I anticipated as much," Lola replied, "but I insist on a checkup first."
And if I wanted to object—and the pressure down in my bladder was getting a bit much to hold—she was right.
"I need your fluids anyway," she added, passing me a small cup that I had already used when we ran the tests with meat.
"Oh, joy," I replied, looking around for the spot to do the thing.
And even if the shower time was pushed back, I felt amazing, and a smile was splitting my face in half.
I was on my feet again.