Chapter Text
Simon stared at the terminal. The green rectangle blinked underneath the large wall of text. Waiting for a response. A tired sigh escaped his lips. His hand hovered over the large, mechanical keys. His pointer finger just barely graced the ‘N’ on the keyboard. His hand clenched. Knuckles going white for a moment. Then, relaxed as he touched the key again. He pressed. Just not hard enough for it to register. He drew back slightly. Flexed his fingers. His joints cracked–
Only for his hand to move down again. Pointer finger pressed into the ‘N’ in a way that had his finger concaving. He stared at the letter repeating over and over. The joints started to ache. The letter continued onto the next line. And then a third. He released it. Hit enter.
error 1025://INVALID RESPONSE
The same green rectangle blinked at him. Waiting.
His finger hovered over the ‘N’ once more–
Only to suddenly and rapidly move to the ‘Y’ key. He pressed it. Simple and quick this time, but he didn’t press enter right away. He stared at his answer to the paragraph that had preceded it. But how was one letter an answer really? How could one letter really get across all that Simon was feeling? Thinking? Debating with this decision?
The truth was, a one letter answer couldn’t do any of those things. But that was the point. Wasn’t it? They didn’t care about the words Simon might spill out. The sentences on the tip of his tongue. He wasn’t some tomb of knowledge to be respected and listened to. He was just a letter to them. Meaningless without context.
His throat bobbed. Another sigh left his lips. He glanced around. Briefly stared down the obvious camera in the corner.
“Fucking fine. Not like I have anything better to do.”
Simon didn’t break eye contact with the lens as he hit enter. Was someone on the other side? Staring right back? Was he making them uncomfortable? Making them question the orders they’d been forced to give out? Or did they even know what those orders had said? Did they even care? Or even worse, was no one even there?
It was a question that had haunted Simon since he was young. Staring out at space as he held tight to his mother’s hand.
What if there’s no one out there?
Of course there are, sweetheart. Look. That constellation there. That’s where home is.
But what if it’s not there when we get back?
Simon let his hand drop to the side. His eyes slipped shut. No choice before. No choice after. No choice in the assignment they’d presented on the terminal. But choosing yes had meant one thing. A chance.
A chance at freedom.
One year of work and his time would be served. Only one year and he could…
Well. The after part didn’t really matter. Not right now. Whatever came after had to be better than dying in a cell. He slowly breathed in and out. Distant groans from changing pressures and shifting liquid could be heard in the metal. A constant cacophony that had differed from Eden’s own pipes. A sound that Simon had quickly grown used to. He waited.
And then he opened his eyes again. Looked up at the camera. Stood.
“Hey.” His arm moved wildly back and forth. “I gave you my answer.”
Nothing new was added to the room’s atmosphere. Nothing beyond Simon’s own irritated breathing. He looked back at the terminal. Looked at the blinking box that now sat underneath where his answer had been accepted.
>>>: Y
APPROVED
>>>: ▍
He huffed. Turned back to the camera like it was a person. Maybe hoping there was someone there despite how his senses told him there was nothing. “What the hell are you waiting for?!”
The creaking of pipes answered him back.
“I said yes! What’s even the point in giving me this option if you don’t listen to me!”
Simon went for the door. He didn’t expect it to be unlocked. It certainly wouldn’t be that easy. But he wanted to bang on something. To look out the small window and yell at whatever guard might be in the hallway–
Right as his face got close, the hydraulics initiated. The door moved faster than Simon could. It shifted several centimeters out and met his nose with a harsh crunch before sliding to the left. He fell back on his ass as pain throbbed through his face and his vision momentarily went white. He’d had worse, but the shock of it all meant he didn’t fight the arms pulling him to his feet.
His ankles dragged. Then, stumbled over each other as he tried to keep up with the given pace. Images of the hall flashed between the rapid blinking of his eyes as he tried to speak around the pain.
“Where the hell–” Iron slipped over his lips. Got on his tongue and in between his teeth as he struggled to breath through his nose. “Where are we even–”
“You’re being transferred. One year’s work, convict. Then you’re free.”
“What work?” Finally, he got his feet mostly up under him. He watched the slight bobbing of the head directly in front of him. Leading their little entourage down the hall. “What did any of that even mean!?”
Rather than answering, they moved into a new room. Simon’s eyes lighted on the main device that took up a good quarter of the space. He recognized it. Large enough to fit a grown man. He’d heard of the Consolidation using stasis on prisoners, but it had been nothing but rumors. They didn’t have enough resources to make the energy consumption outweigh the cost of food and water. And arguably, you could fit a person in a smaller cell without the stasis pod. That didn’t mean there weren’t any uses for them. Just not as a punishment.
Before he was even fully comprehending that thought, he was being shoved into a chair. Someone else came up. Righted his nose before he was even given a chance to mentally prepare himself.
“Fuck! God-three! What happened to the count of fucking three!?” He kneeled over. Pressed his forehead into his knees. The pain no longer sharp but very much present and making his sinuses feel bloated and heavy. He spit onto the floor. Used his sweater to wipe the rest of the blood from his face. The stain disappeared with the other stains in the dark, patchwork fabric.
A slight, almost cracking sound filled the space. His eyes focused back on the pod. Listened as its opaque lid slid back.
“You will be transported,” the man in charge calmly stated. “One year’s work.”
Simon swallowed what little blood rested in the back of his throat. Wiped at his face one last time. “You aren’t going to answer anything I ask of you anyways. Are you?”
“You said you wanted freedom. This is how you get it.”
“I said I wanted to live,” Simon corrected.
“One year’s work. You’ll meet those you’ll be working with when you awake.”
Who was he working with? Why were there others involved? Other convicts? People of the Consolidation? What were they supposed to be doing? Why was stasis required for transport? That implied the transport would be off the station. That it would be longer than a quick zip to an orbiting ship or some neighboring structure.
He could try and ask, but they wouldn’t answer. He knew they wouldn’t. He could try and fight this, but in their eyes, he’d already said yes. At this point, he was getting in that stasis pod. It didn’t matter if he was willing or not. The only choice now was did he want to risk his nose getting broken again.
As the people moved, making a mock, almost theatrical hall for him, Simon let out a tired huff. He pushed himself to his feet. Watched as the hands tightened around batons and guns. Practically asking him to make this difficult. All he did was walk forward though. He paused on the edge. Looked into the disused piece of equipment. A musty smell came from it that had his swelling nose wrinkling as much as it could. He looked back at the one who seemed to be in charge.
“One year.”
“Then you’re free,” the man stated with a mocking tone.
Simon moved his right leg over. Then his left. There was a few inches of room above his head as he lay down. His shoulders fit snug on either side of the cracked, cushioned bottom. He heard the buttons being pressed. The slight whirring of the stasis unit being turned on. The opaque dome slid back over like the lid of a coffin–
Simon slammed his elbow into the side of the pod. His eyes flinched from the light of the room suddenly meeting his eyes again. What? What was wrong? Or had they changed their mind? Decided he wasn’t the one for whatever stupid, vague job this was despite how he’d thought he’d already made the deal–
“Welcome aboard.”
Only this wasn’t the same light as before and that voice wasn’t the voice of any individual Simon had met thus far in his imprisonment. He blinked again. Tried to get his eyes to focus but struggled as water welled up in his tear ducts.
“Give it a minute. Vision should return to normal in the next minute or two.”
Simon kept blinking as he slowly pushed himself up. His joints groaned and muscles burned like he hadn’t moved in weeks. It didn’t make any sense. They hadn’t even finished putting him under yet–
And then his vision started to clear.
There’d been no break. No rest. No sleep, dreamless or otherwise. He couldn’t even remember the exact moment he’d lost consciousness as he first stared at the unfamiliar surroundings and then to the person who’d been talking to him. His eyes lingered on the large scar, but if she noticed, she didn’t address it.
“Captain Ava. Pleasure to meet you.”
Simon doubted that very much. Only it hadn’t come across as sarcastic. He tried to respond, but his tongue felt heavy and dry. Sticking to the back of his teeth as he tried to move it. All he managed to muster was an unintelligible mumble.
“I’m told it’s a little different for everyone. May take a second longer for speech and fine motor movements to catch up.”
Simon tried to respond to that, but quickly stopped as he realized how stupid of an attempt that would’ve been. Another guttural sound echoed out, but not from him. He turned slightly. Noted the way four pods were formed around the inner workings of the ship. Clearly having been jammed into a space they weren’t meant to be in.
A man leaned over on Simon’s left out of his own stasis chamber. Water and pale chunks hit the ground. Dripped between the slits in the metal flooring as the man struggled and coughed. The clicking of someone else’s tongue had Simon then looking upwards. The presumed owner of the fourth pod. He was hunched over slightly to avoid hitting his head on the low ceiling.
“We don’t clean that up, it’s gonna start smelling down here,” said the unknown man.
“It already smells,” Ava responded.
“You’re right. Jack’s vomit might actually be an upgrade.”
Jack flicked off the still unnamed man. Or at least Simon assumed he tried to do that. The guy only managed to tuck his thumb in as he held the back of his hand up. Had the other two been woken earlier and given more time to get over the negative side effects before waking Simon and Jack, or had they simply drawn the better stick in genetics?
“Haven’t seen you round before, and that’s a rare thing indeed. What’s the name?”
Simon focused back on the man. Tried to speak. Failed again. These people seemed to know each other. Well enough to joke or at least comfortable enough to be passive aggressive without consequence. But they didn’t know Simon’s name. They weren’t glaring daggers at him. The unnamed man hadn’t even sounded that suspicious. More so like he was making conversation.
These people were all clearly part of the Consolidation. Were they just assuming Simon was to? How did they not know?
It was probably a good thing Simon couldn’t immediately speak. His mind was spinning from the sudden scene change and there was no telling what could’ve accidentally slipped out of his mouth. All that did escape was another moan that had the ghost of an ‘s’ sound in it. The unnamed man snorted.
“We’ll find out once I access the logs or when he’s able to talk,” Ava stated. “Whichever occurs first.”
“Unless they sent us with a mute.”
“Doesn’t really matter if they did. We can’t deserve to be picky. I’m going to move ahead and make sure all systems are running as expected. Get them up and on their feet. Meet me on deck as soon as you can.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Again, the way it was said was hard to say if it was joking or more passive aggressive. Whichever way it was meant, Ava didn’t waste time on it. Simply said, “Quickly, David.”
The finally named man wrinkled his nose as Jack threw up a second time. “I can’t exactly make him stop vomiting.”
Ava didn’t bother with a response though. Simply started to move through the jungle gym of patched together parts before getting to what looked to be a real walkway and some stairs. As she disappeared up above, David said, “You gonna lose your two month old lunch like Jack here?”
Two months? That fact had Simon’s mind spinning even more. Had it really been that long? And if so, why did David have that information? What had these people been told that had been kept from Simon? And what hadn’t been explained to them that they weren’t put off by having the so-called Butcher as a companion in all this? But all Simon could do was shrug slightly as he continued to try and regain proper function of his tongue and fingers.
David let out a momentary genuine sigh of relief that quickly turned to a groan as Jack threw up again.