Realms of the Raven

Stasis Dreams
(c) 2007 by Maura Anderson, all rights reserved

As if from a great distance, the vague sound of voices intruded on the echoes of her dreams. Sultry, seductive dreams. Terrifying horrible dreams. But she couldn’t see anything at all, only a ceaseless black swathe of darkness.

Only the painful dreams began in darkness.

She tried to pull herself from the grip of the dream, to escape the promise of agony to come. Every bit of willpower she possessed was not enough.

Not again. She couldn’t take the pain, the torment, yet she would be forced to do so. Held immobile by unseen bonds to accept whatever was forced upon her. Yet she couldn’t accept the futility of resistance. No matter what the voices told her, she always fought. There was no honor in surrender.

No. No more. Not again.

Still the voices continued. Two, maybe three separate voices. And somehow different this time. Not as soft, not as harmonious. Not in any language she could decypher. Another voice suddenly spoke so close to her ear that she gave an involuntary twitch.

She moved? Was it some new kind or torment? She momentarily ignored the voices and struggled to think, to remember something besides the seemingly endless sequence of dreams.

There. A battle, some sort of battle. Her small exploration craft had been attacked without provocation and nearly demolished around her. There had been no time to do anything other than set off her distress beacon and lock herself into the claustrophobic stasis pod.

No one had ever been able to tell her what stasis was like. Hell, they’d not even been able to swear to the length of time it would be effective and survivable. It was a last ditch hope, that was all. If stasis resulted in dreams like hers, she’d die before she willingly entered it again.

But where was she now? Had she been rescued? It was almost too much to believe. Too much to hope for.

The voices intruded again. One sounded angry and upset, another used a tone that seemed to be universal to the soother, the peace-maker.

A sudden pressure below her jaw and a line of burning ice ran up her neck. Before she could scream, silence encompassed her mind again.

* * * *

She fought her way to the surface again. It wasn’t a dream, she was sure of it now.

Now she could feel herself breathing and taste the faint odor of life and chemicals underlying the more organic scents. Deodorizers. Recognition allowed her to push the information aside to focus on other things.

So weak. Just licking her lips was exhausting. Her lips were smooth but her tongue felt incredibly rough, almost bristly. Was this something else stasis caused?

She wanted to open her eyes but caution won out. With no idea where she was or what her situation was, secrecy might be her best hope. Hell, it might be her only hope. She listened intently, trying to sense whether anyone was near her.

After a seemingly endless time of hearing nothing more than mechanical hums and ticks, she heard distance voices. A soft woosh accompanied by a change in air pressure. She steeled herself to pretend to be unconscious and unaware. The voices ceased but rhythmic footsteps neared her.

“What is your opinion, Traisa?”

She could understand this one! A deep masculine voice spoke in a tone of voice that brooked no denial. Someone accustomed to command and being obeyed. The words were EuroStan but with a very strange accent.

“I think we should do her a favor and euthanize her.” The brittle iciness of the female voice was made more chilling by the sharp clip to her accent.

The words sank in. Euthanize? What the hell had happened to her? What shape was she in?

The higher voice continued. “Face it, Maylar. The registration on her stasis pod was to the ship of Doctor Sandra Mailings. That ship was found in pieces over 200 cycles ago. Fifteen years was the lethal limit for this kind of stasis and standard humans.”

“Well, she’s still alive, even if we don’t know why. But what the hell happened to her in there?” The man’s voice sounded almost contemplative.

“The med tests all show that if this really is Dr. Mailings, she’s not standard human anymore. She’s become part Caitoyn.”

Sandy’s eyes opened in shock, only to squint almost closed until her pupils adjusted to the bright room. Far too bright.

“She even has Caitoyn eyes.”

Labels: Friday Flash