This is intended to be a short sci-fi story in an original (if fairly generic) setting, with a...
- Created
- Status
- Ongoing
- Watchers
- 8
- Recent readers
- 0
- Threadmarks
- 2
-
Statistics (2 threadmarks, 2.9k words)
User Total Ato 2 Threadmarks Reader mode
This is intended to be a short sci-fi story in an original (if fairly generic) setting, with a tight focus.
I know, I'm terrible at finishing anything. This time will be different I promise.
Honest.
Stop looking at me like that.
Shiplinked
-Chapter .1
She awoke to the feel of soft sheets pressing lightly against her cheek. The fabric briefly clung to her skin as she rolled onto her back, releasing gently. For several drawn out minutes she laid there, slowly blinking away the fuzziness of sleep from her eyes. Gradually as the laxity of sleep seeped away, and alertness to her surroundings grew, she became cognizant of what here eyes were showing her.
The ceiling was grey, a light shade across multiple panels. A recessed strip on the wall above the bed cast a dim, diffused, glow across the room.
Tentatively she pushed herself up into a sitting position, slouching forward slightly as she collected herself. a dull ache in her limbs protested the strain of supporting her own body. The sensation was odd, a mixture of numbness and tiny pin pricks of discomfort, that concentrated in her extremities.
The air was warm and still, a dry sticky feeling was caught in the back of her throat, and she coughed experimentally once or twice to try and clear it.
Despite the poor lighting she was able to make out the shapes around her, and for the first time could really look at her surroundings. She took the view in with a slow sweep from right to left.
It was a medium sized room, occupied by a set of nondescript furniture in a uniform smooth and efficient style, all wrought in metal and light grey plastics. A desk with a glassy surface stood against one wall, accompanied by a comfortable looking chair, and adorned by a collection of strange looking trinkets.
The opposite side of the room had an array of drawers and cabinets all set into the wall, a tall full length mirror nestled between them. The remaining wall featured the door, a bold blue rectangle devoid of features, and a large picture frame hanging against the bland grey surface.
None of this was familiar.
Her posture straightened at this realisation, and she cast her gaze around quickly in an attempt to find some point of reference to fix to. Nothing.
She tried to remember how she had come to be here, attempting to recall events before she had awoken in the bed. Her mind desperately scrambled to come up with a single recollection, but there was only blankness.
A pit of fear opened up within her gut, and driven by a surge of sudden adrenaline she rapidly swung her feet off of the yielding mattress, and stood upright. The sheets fell away to reveal her naked body, well toned muscles moved beneath smooth unblemished skin.
Her feet pressed against the material of the floor, it felt warm, yet firm, she shifted her weight back and forth. Heart suddenly beating fast, racing against a gnawing dread.
Even as she restlessly cast her gaze across the dimly lit room, she took in little, her mind was a adrift tying to latch onto a memory any memory, but there was nothing. It was likely desperately clawing against a current of air, trying to pull herself out a slowly opening void of despair.
She tried to focus on smaller more concrete details. Where she lived? What she did? What food did she like? Who were her friends? What was her mother's name?
Nothing.
All blanks.
Then another question arose, unbidden, but inevitable unstoppable in it's conclusion.
What was her name?
She did not know.
Panic gripped her, and she stepped back sharply, pressing up against the smooth wall panels. Hands scrabbled ineffectually to grip onto something, anything. As if holding a solid object in her grip would provide the anchor she needed.
Her fingers brushed a raised surface, smooth and glassy. The light panels mounted high on the walls brightened, banishing the gloom, and bringing a uniform level of illumination to the entire room.
Startled by the changed, her rapid breathing stopped. Directly in front of her, she could now see the picture next to the door clearly. It was a brightly painted landscape, depicting a sun dappled field, sloping down to a sandy beach, bounded by cliffs. She recognized it.
She exhaled slowly, letting the worry and fear fall away. Tentatively she took a step, and then second. One after another she crossed the room, towards the painting.
A hesitant hand reached out, and fingertips brushed the rough surface of the brush strokes. It was solid, real. She could make out details, small figures roamed across the sands, a bird rested upon a branch in the foreground, and kite soared above the cliff edge.
She knew this painting. It felt familiar, like something she had seen every day for years. She closed her eyes, focusing on the texture against her skin, trying to tease out a solid connection to the picture, a memory, any memory.
Her brow furrowed in frustration, it felt so close, like a half-forgotten word on the tip of her tongue. Tauntingly eluding her no matter how hard she tried to focus on it.
Nothing.
She grunted with exasperation, and slumped forward, hand resting heavily on the wall in front of her. She stayed still for a long moment, listening to the steady sound of her own breathing. Finally she opened her eyes, blinking back the wetness that had gathered in them.
She stood up straight, and took a slow, deliberate, deep breath. Locking the fear, and panic away, and steeling herself to deal with her situation.
She looked around at the room with a fresh regard, taking in new details. Upon the desk was a series of small statues, carved from a rich dark wood. Next to them a sturdy alloy case, with a transparent front, held several medallions adorned with coloured ribbon. A small picture sat in the corner, a young man in uniform smiled back with a lop sided grin.
The blue door was built solidly from some sort of metal, that felt cold to the touch. There was no handle on it's featureless surface. A glossy panel, similar to the one that had activated the lights, was placed to one side of the sturdy frame, but touching it elicited no response.
She noted for the first time that this room had no windows. Her heart quickened at the implications of that fact. But she forced herself to remain clam, and continued her examination.
She caught the mirror in the corner of her eye, and paused, before moving purposefully over to it. Her gaze ran over her own naked body. She saw a tall woman with a slim, well kept, physique, and pale brown skin. A short bob of black hair cut to the level of her jaw, and tapered high on the back of her neck. A highly symmetrical, and round face with high cheek bones and a short a short nose stared back at her with vivid green eyes.
She stared back, it was not a face she could have picked out from a crowd as being hers. She turned her head from side to side, hoping for a glimmer of recognition. She found none.
Experimentally she pulled on a nearby drawer, it slid smoothly out from the wall, clicking quietly into an open position. It held some dark blue exercise clothing of fairly generic design. Other drawers yielded under garments, and clothes in varied styles, all of which looked like they would fit her. She came to the largest of the cupboard doors, and eased it open.
Within several immaculately pressed suits hung from a rack. She reached out an touched one, pulling it forward to examine the white material. It was a uniform. Gold braiding encircled the sleeves, and epaulettes bearing a metallic crest of some sort sat upon each shoulder. A series of four rectangular metal studs pierced the collar. Rank tabs.
She knew that. There was no memory associated with it, she just knew. She reached up and touched the pins. They were smooth, and warm, silver coloured with a mirror shine. She wondered if this uniform was hers.
If this was her room.
If she was a military officer...
She drew back from the clothing rack, and closed the door sharply.
She returned to the other drawers, and sorted though them, assembling a set of clothes. She pulled on a plain set of underwear, a pair of comfortable dark blue pants, and a muted red sleeveless top. Whilst looking for some kind of footwear she opened a smaller cupboard, and found a dark grey jacket with a faded patch embroidered on the right shoulder. Again the elusive feeling of familiarity tugged at her mind, on impulse she pulled the garment out, and shrugged it on.
An embroidered name tag sat high on the left breast next to a small arrow like design. It read 'Hayde' in bold and blocky white text. She ran her finger across the name. The jacket was a bit loose, but it seemed to fit. Was this her name?
She stood there running the sounds around in her head, when a soft hum broke the silence behind her. She froze, the hand still resting on her chest tensing involuntarily.
"Good morning."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
AN: I hope that wasn't too hard to read. Part of it was aversion therapy to get me to stop being so wary of using personal pronouns in prose.
I know, I'm terrible at finishing anything. This time will be different I promise.
Honest.
Stop looking at me like that.
Shiplinked
-Chapter .1
She awoke to the feel of soft sheets pressing lightly against her cheek. The fabric briefly clung to her skin as she rolled onto her back, releasing gently. For several drawn out minutes she laid there, slowly blinking away the fuzziness of sleep from her eyes. Gradually as the laxity of sleep seeped away, and alertness to her surroundings grew, she became cognizant of what here eyes were showing her.
The ceiling was grey, a light shade across multiple panels. A recessed strip on the wall above the bed cast a dim, diffused, glow across the room.
Tentatively she pushed herself up into a sitting position, slouching forward slightly as she collected herself. a dull ache in her limbs protested the strain of supporting her own body. The sensation was odd, a mixture of numbness and tiny pin pricks of discomfort, that concentrated in her extremities.
The air was warm and still, a dry sticky feeling was caught in the back of her throat, and she coughed experimentally once or twice to try and clear it.
Despite the poor lighting she was able to make out the shapes around her, and for the first time could really look at her surroundings. She took the view in with a slow sweep from right to left.
It was a medium sized room, occupied by a set of nondescript furniture in a uniform smooth and efficient style, all wrought in metal and light grey plastics. A desk with a glassy surface stood against one wall, accompanied by a comfortable looking chair, and adorned by a collection of strange looking trinkets.
The opposite side of the room had an array of drawers and cabinets all set into the wall, a tall full length mirror nestled between them. The remaining wall featured the door, a bold blue rectangle devoid of features, and a large picture frame hanging against the bland grey surface.
None of this was familiar.
Her posture straightened at this realisation, and she cast her gaze around quickly in an attempt to find some point of reference to fix to. Nothing.
She tried to remember how she had come to be here, attempting to recall events before she had awoken in the bed. Her mind desperately scrambled to come up with a single recollection, but there was only blankness.
A pit of fear opened up within her gut, and driven by a surge of sudden adrenaline she rapidly swung her feet off of the yielding mattress, and stood upright. The sheets fell away to reveal her naked body, well toned muscles moved beneath smooth unblemished skin.
Her feet pressed against the material of the floor, it felt warm, yet firm, she shifted her weight back and forth. Heart suddenly beating fast, racing against a gnawing dread.
Even as she restlessly cast her gaze across the dimly lit room, she took in little, her mind was a adrift tying to latch onto a memory any memory, but there was nothing. It was likely desperately clawing against a current of air, trying to pull herself out a slowly opening void of despair.
She tried to focus on smaller more concrete details. Where she lived? What she did? What food did she like? Who were her friends? What was her mother's name?
Nothing.
All blanks.
Then another question arose, unbidden, but inevitable unstoppable in it's conclusion.
What was her name?
She did not know.
Panic gripped her, and she stepped back sharply, pressing up against the smooth wall panels. Hands scrabbled ineffectually to grip onto something, anything. As if holding a solid object in her grip would provide the anchor she needed.
Her fingers brushed a raised surface, smooth and glassy. The light panels mounted high on the walls brightened, banishing the gloom, and bringing a uniform level of illumination to the entire room.
Startled by the changed, her rapid breathing stopped. Directly in front of her, she could now see the picture next to the door clearly. It was a brightly painted landscape, depicting a sun dappled field, sloping down to a sandy beach, bounded by cliffs. She recognized it.
She exhaled slowly, letting the worry and fear fall away. Tentatively she took a step, and then second. One after another she crossed the room, towards the painting.
A hesitant hand reached out, and fingertips brushed the rough surface of the brush strokes. It was solid, real. She could make out details, small figures roamed across the sands, a bird rested upon a branch in the foreground, and kite soared above the cliff edge.
She knew this painting. It felt familiar, like something she had seen every day for years. She closed her eyes, focusing on the texture against her skin, trying to tease out a solid connection to the picture, a memory, any memory.
Her brow furrowed in frustration, it felt so close, like a half-forgotten word on the tip of her tongue. Tauntingly eluding her no matter how hard she tried to focus on it.
Nothing.
She grunted with exasperation, and slumped forward, hand resting heavily on the wall in front of her. She stayed still for a long moment, listening to the steady sound of her own breathing. Finally she opened her eyes, blinking back the wetness that had gathered in them.
She stood up straight, and took a slow, deliberate, deep breath. Locking the fear, and panic away, and steeling herself to deal with her situation.
She looked around at the room with a fresh regard, taking in new details. Upon the desk was a series of small statues, carved from a rich dark wood. Next to them a sturdy alloy case, with a transparent front, held several medallions adorned with coloured ribbon. A small picture sat in the corner, a young man in uniform smiled back with a lop sided grin.
The blue door was built solidly from some sort of metal, that felt cold to the touch. There was no handle on it's featureless surface. A glossy panel, similar to the one that had activated the lights, was placed to one side of the sturdy frame, but touching it elicited no response.
She noted for the first time that this room had no windows. Her heart quickened at the implications of that fact. But she forced herself to remain clam, and continued her examination.
She caught the mirror in the corner of her eye, and paused, before moving purposefully over to it. Her gaze ran over her own naked body. She saw a tall woman with a slim, well kept, physique, and pale brown skin. A short bob of black hair cut to the level of her jaw, and tapered high on the back of her neck. A highly symmetrical, and round face with high cheek bones and a short a short nose stared back at her with vivid green eyes.
She stared back, it was not a face she could have picked out from a crowd as being hers. She turned her head from side to side, hoping for a glimmer of recognition. She found none.
Experimentally she pulled on a nearby drawer, it slid smoothly out from the wall, clicking quietly into an open position. It held some dark blue exercise clothing of fairly generic design. Other drawers yielded under garments, and clothes in varied styles, all of which looked like they would fit her. She came to the largest of the cupboard doors, and eased it open.
Within several immaculately pressed suits hung from a rack. She reached out an touched one, pulling it forward to examine the white material. It was a uniform. Gold braiding encircled the sleeves, and epaulettes bearing a metallic crest of some sort sat upon each shoulder. A series of four rectangular metal studs pierced the collar. Rank tabs.
She knew that. There was no memory associated with it, she just knew. She reached up and touched the pins. They were smooth, and warm, silver coloured with a mirror shine. She wondered if this uniform was hers.
If this was her room.
If she was a military officer...
She drew back from the clothing rack, and closed the door sharply.
She returned to the other drawers, and sorted though them, assembling a set of clothes. She pulled on a plain set of underwear, a pair of comfortable dark blue pants, and a muted red sleeveless top. Whilst looking for some kind of footwear she opened a smaller cupboard, and found a dark grey jacket with a faded patch embroidered on the right shoulder. Again the elusive feeling of familiarity tugged at her mind, on impulse she pulled the garment out, and shrugged it on.
An embroidered name tag sat high on the left breast next to a small arrow like design. It read 'Hayde' in bold and blocky white text. She ran her finger across the name. The jacket was a bit loose, but it seemed to fit. Was this her name?
She stood there running the sounds around in her head, when a soft hum broke the silence behind her. She froze, the hand still resting on her chest tensing involuntarily.
"Good morning."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
AN: I hope that wasn't too hard to read. Part of it was aversion therapy to get me to stop being so wary of using personal pronouns in prose.
Last edited:
-Chapter .2
She spun around, startled by the sudden voice breaking her solitude. Her feet moved automatically shifting into a position that kept her weight balanced, and Her left shoulder angled towards the source of the disturbance. She felt tense, like a wound spring just waiting to be released..
A figure of golden light stood motionless in the centre of the room. Its form was feminine, appearing to wear an abstracted and stylised version of an ancient chiton. Intricate patterns pulsed softly across it's surface, occasionally shifting positions, or morphing into new configurations.
Holo construct, an unbidden, and unknown, part of Her mind supplied.
An expression of curiosity adorned the avatar's sharp facial features, as it passively regarded her.
She faced the golden image, letting the silence between them draw out. Questions swarmed in Her mind. She struggled to choose the one most pressing, to express her need to make sense of the situation she had found herself in.
Failing, the most obvious and immediate query slipped out.
"Who are you?"
A look of confusion flashed quickly across the construct's face, almost instantly replaced by a mask of concern.
"You do not remember?" The question was asked with a hesitant tone.
Her guarded silence seemed to be enough of an answer, and after a moment of contemplation the image continued to speak.
"I was afraid there may have been damage... This is most unfortunate." She blanched at this, her guarded posture slipping away. She wondered if she was ill, and that this was some kind of mental hospital.
Has she lost her mind?
"Damage?! What is happening? Where am I? Who am I? WHAT IS GOING ON!" Her voice cracked, the tension, she had kept bottled up since awakening, being released in a cathartic outburst. She choked back a sob.
The golden image changed posture, seeming to stand taller, though still shorter than Her. Its eyes focused on Her own. The look of concern remained.
"Please remain calm Captain. I will endeavour to explain the situation, but I must ask for your patience." The construct touched it's own chest. " To answer your first question; I am Command Intelligence SP/I MK.12a ON44807-C455"
"...'Command Intelligence'? You are an AI?"
"Indeed. Though my friends refer to me as 'Cassandra', I would consider you as one of them Captain." She did a double take as information she had previously overlooked suddenly registered.
"Wait! Captain? You have called me that twice now. I am a Captain? Of what?"
"Of course. You are Captain Sonya Hayde of the FSV Ouragan, the same vessel to which I am assigned, and upon which you currently stand." 'Sonya Hayde', the name felt right, like pulling on a well worn sweater. It was comfortable, more than that. It was Her's.
Sonya turned away from 'Cassandra' and paced slightly to the left, using the movement to clear her thoughts and process this new information. She stopped and looked back, towards the avatar.
"If I am Captain, and this is my ship, then what has happened? Why do I not remember anything?"
"Ah." Cassandra's avatar glanced down, its almost looked embarrassed. "There has been an 'incident' Captain."
"What kind of incident?"
"I am unsure, my logs of recent events have been... erased." The avatar's face looked pained "I was automatically brought online from deep standby 10 hours, 32 minutes, and 15 seconds ago. There was only one queued command order more recent than our logged departure from Darius Station, five weeks ago.
It directed me to revive you from cryostasis, and await further orders. A task I undertook. I placed you in your quarters until you had recovered from the lingering stasis effects."
"What about the rest of the crew?" Sonya said. Suddenly clinging to the possibility that someone else would be able to make this entire situation right.
A hope that was quickly dashed. "There are no other crew members registered aboard ship, Captain."
"Where did they go?"
"I do not know."
"Why was I in stasis?
"I do not know."
"What happened to my memory?"
"There is a small risk of complications in stasis technology, but a failure of this magnitude is almost unheard of. Whilst the recovery scan did not show any tissue degradation that would be associated with that type of effect, there were several anomalous readings that worried me.
I believe it is more likely that your condition is related to the other unexplained occurrences."
"So you don't know?"
"... That is correct."
"Well so far you have been very informative." She snapped sarcastically. A flash of irritation crossed the avatar's face. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for." She said, suddenly feeling bad for upsetting the machine.
"There is no need to apologise Captain, I admit my performance has been less than optimal. I am committing maximum effort to rectify this shortfall."
"Please Cassandra, I am sure you are doing all you can." She paused, struggling to find something suitably 'captain-like' to say to currently her one and only subordinate "You followed your orders, and did the best you could with the situation you found yourself in. I am sure no one could find fault with your efforts."
The AI construct seemed to glow brighter upon hearing this compliment, a wide smile gracing the finely sculpted features of it's avatar.
"Thank you Captain. I had hoped that once you had awoken the gaps in my logs could be bridged, and new directives issued. Unfortunately with your memory loss this is not the case."
That was not what Sonya wanted to hear. She remained silent for a long moment thinking of what she could possibly say next. The AI's image remained still, watching her intently.
"So what now? Can you not call for help? Call command or something?"
"There are... additional complications.
I believe it would be best if we moved to the bridge. Where I can properly demonstrate the current situation."
"Okay... Lets do that." Sonya said slowly. She did not feel like she had many other options in anycase. The construct nodded, with a smile. "First though, let me find some shoes."
"Of course."
Sonya turned to cast a speculative look at the drawers behind her, several left open from her prior search for clothing. She started towards a a closed one in the bottom left corner.
Cassandra made a small coughing noise. "Third tray from the right. Captain."
She quickly pulled out the tray, and retrieved a simple pair of black exercise running a finger along the anti-slip sole of one before putting them on. Giving a smile in thanks to the still watching AI, as she stood up.
Cassandra's avatar moved back and gestured towards the door, which slid smoothly open, to reveal a corridor finished in the same light grey as the wall panels within her room..
"After you Captain."
Sonya stepped gingerly out into the corridor, and looked around, seeing the same almost featureless panelled walls stretching out in both directions, terminating in sturdy looking hatches at either end. Here and there small signs marked out access points for various utilities and systems, each marked in an obscure language of unknown acronyms and small coloured symbols. The floor, Deck her mind insisted, was hard and metallic, a scuffed blue line ran along it. Everything looked very solid, overbuilt, more representative of a bunker than the interior of any vehicle.
The holo-image moved soundlessly past her, its golden light casting a warm glow on the nearby panels. The construct's feet made the appearance of walking, but the motion was too smooth, an effect that made it look like the avatar was gliding just level with the deck. It was halfway towards the right hand hatch before it beckoned to her.
"This way please Captain."
She followed.
She spun around, startled by the sudden voice breaking her solitude. Her feet moved automatically shifting into a position that kept her weight balanced, and Her left shoulder angled towards the source of the disturbance. She felt tense, like a wound spring just waiting to be released..
A figure of golden light stood motionless in the centre of the room. Its form was feminine, appearing to wear an abstracted and stylised version of an ancient chiton. Intricate patterns pulsed softly across it's surface, occasionally shifting positions, or morphing into new configurations.
Holo construct, an unbidden, and unknown, part of Her mind supplied.
An expression of curiosity adorned the avatar's sharp facial features, as it passively regarded her.
She faced the golden image, letting the silence between them draw out. Questions swarmed in Her mind. She struggled to choose the one most pressing, to express her need to make sense of the situation she had found herself in.
Failing, the most obvious and immediate query slipped out.
"Who are you?"
A look of confusion flashed quickly across the construct's face, almost instantly replaced by a mask of concern.
"You do not remember?" The question was asked with a hesitant tone.
Her guarded silence seemed to be enough of an answer, and after a moment of contemplation the image continued to speak.
"I was afraid there may have been damage... This is most unfortunate." She blanched at this, her guarded posture slipping away. She wondered if she was ill, and that this was some kind of mental hospital.
Has she lost her mind?
"Damage?! What is happening? Where am I? Who am I? WHAT IS GOING ON!" Her voice cracked, the tension, she had kept bottled up since awakening, being released in a cathartic outburst. She choked back a sob.
The golden image changed posture, seeming to stand taller, though still shorter than Her. Its eyes focused on Her own. The look of concern remained.
"Please remain calm Captain. I will endeavour to explain the situation, but I must ask for your patience." The construct touched it's own chest. " To answer your first question; I am Command Intelligence SP/I MK.12a ON44807-C455"
"...'Command Intelligence'? You are an AI?"
"Indeed. Though my friends refer to me as 'Cassandra', I would consider you as one of them Captain." She did a double take as information she had previously overlooked suddenly registered.
"Wait! Captain? You have called me that twice now. I am a Captain? Of what?"
"Of course. You are Captain Sonya Hayde of the FSV Ouragan, the same vessel to which I am assigned, and upon which you currently stand." 'Sonya Hayde', the name felt right, like pulling on a well worn sweater. It was comfortable, more than that. It was Her's.
Sonya turned away from 'Cassandra' and paced slightly to the left, using the movement to clear her thoughts and process this new information. She stopped and looked back, towards the avatar.
"If I am Captain, and this is my ship, then what has happened? Why do I not remember anything?"
"Ah." Cassandra's avatar glanced down, its almost looked embarrassed. "There has been an 'incident' Captain."
"What kind of incident?"
"I am unsure, my logs of recent events have been... erased." The avatar's face looked pained "I was automatically brought online from deep standby 10 hours, 32 minutes, and 15 seconds ago. There was only one queued command order more recent than our logged departure from Darius Station, five weeks ago.
It directed me to revive you from cryostasis, and await further orders. A task I undertook. I placed you in your quarters until you had recovered from the lingering stasis effects."
"What about the rest of the crew?" Sonya said. Suddenly clinging to the possibility that someone else would be able to make this entire situation right.
A hope that was quickly dashed. "There are no other crew members registered aboard ship, Captain."
"Where did they go?"
"I do not know."
"Why was I in stasis?
"I do not know."
"What happened to my memory?"
"There is a small risk of complications in stasis technology, but a failure of this magnitude is almost unheard of. Whilst the recovery scan did not show any tissue degradation that would be associated with that type of effect, there were several anomalous readings that worried me.
I believe it is more likely that your condition is related to the other unexplained occurrences."
"So you don't know?"
"... That is correct."
"Well so far you have been very informative." She snapped sarcastically. A flash of irritation crossed the avatar's face. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for." She said, suddenly feeling bad for upsetting the machine.
"There is no need to apologise Captain, I admit my performance has been less than optimal. I am committing maximum effort to rectify this shortfall."
"Please Cassandra, I am sure you are doing all you can." She paused, struggling to find something suitably 'captain-like' to say to currently her one and only subordinate "You followed your orders, and did the best you could with the situation you found yourself in. I am sure no one could find fault with your efforts."
The AI construct seemed to glow brighter upon hearing this compliment, a wide smile gracing the finely sculpted features of it's avatar.
"Thank you Captain. I had hoped that once you had awoken the gaps in my logs could be bridged, and new directives issued. Unfortunately with your memory loss this is not the case."
That was not what Sonya wanted to hear. She remained silent for a long moment thinking of what she could possibly say next. The AI's image remained still, watching her intently.
"So what now? Can you not call for help? Call command or something?"
"There are... additional complications.
I believe it would be best if we moved to the bridge. Where I can properly demonstrate the current situation."
"Okay... Lets do that." Sonya said slowly. She did not feel like she had many other options in anycase. The construct nodded, with a smile. "First though, let me find some shoes."
"Of course."
Sonya turned to cast a speculative look at the drawers behind her, several left open from her prior search for clothing. She started towards a a closed one in the bottom left corner.
Cassandra made a small coughing noise. "Third tray from the right. Captain."
She quickly pulled out the tray, and retrieved a simple pair of black exercise running a finger along the anti-slip sole of one before putting them on. Giving a smile in thanks to the still watching AI, as she stood up.
Cassandra's avatar moved back and gestured towards the door, which slid smoothly open, to reveal a corridor finished in the same light grey as the wall panels within her room..
"After you Captain."
Sonya stepped gingerly out into the corridor, and looked around, seeing the same almost featureless panelled walls stretching out in both directions, terminating in sturdy looking hatches at either end. Here and there small signs marked out access points for various utilities and systems, each marked in an obscure language of unknown acronyms and small coloured symbols. The floor, Deck her mind insisted, was hard and metallic, a scuffed blue line ran along it. Everything looked very solid, overbuilt, more representative of a bunker than the interior of any vehicle.
The holo-image moved soundlessly past her, its golden light casting a warm glow on the nearby panels. The construct's feet made the appearance of walking, but the motion was too smooth, an effect that made it look like the avatar was gliding just level with the deck. It was halfway towards the right hand hatch before it beckoned to her.
"This way please Captain."
She followed.