“Get the insertion cycle started!”

“There’s so much blood. Is it all his?”

“Focus soldier! We’re losing him!”

I hear them around me. It’s hard to make out everything being said in the cacophony of sounds. My ears are ringing so loudly I think I may puke and pass out. My vision is blurry and dark. Everything spins.

“How did he manage to escape?”

“He’s a Brutor.”

That last comment sounded satisfying. I don’t know where I am. I think I know these voices. I must, or I would still be fighting. Do I have any fight left? My body is numb with adrenaline. Am I dead? Not yet.

“Get those tubes hooked up! My God he’s a mess.”

“What’s that in his hand? Is that someone’s scalp? Oh God…” I hear the sound of vomiting. I don’t think it’s my own. I try to speak, but only hear guttural mumblings in my throat; or is that just my wishful thinking? Maybe I said nothing at all.

“C’mon people! Quickly, quickly!”

I see those little white squigglies of light in the corners of my vision. You know the ones. I try to focus on them, but they dart away, only to live in my peripheral vision. The corners of my eyes are darkening. It’s getting hard to breathe. I am so very tired. I just want to sleep.

“Aura! Pump him full of meds!” This voice is sounding more and more distant, more and more panicked. 

“Negative. Pilot body beyond repair. There is nothing I can do.” I recognize Aura’s voice amidst it all. Calm, soothing, reassuring me that I am still alive. 

“Dammit Aura!” There is resignation alongside the panic now. “Recycle him then!”

“Negative” comes her reply. “Capsuleer cloning is only for physical trauma beyond that which the mind and body can sustain.”

I hear scuffling and arguing, fading likes the tides against the shore. I think I hear my name. What is my name?

“Roc… Roc! C’mon Roc, look at me!” Yes, my name is Roc. Roc Wieler. I am glad my voice is telling me my name. 

“ROC! Look at me, soldier! That’s an order!” My gaze finally focuses. I have clarity. I see him there, my friend. I know him. What is his name? He’s yelling at me. Others are yelling at him.

He has a gun.

“Roc, I’m sorry. I don’t know if you can hear me, but I have to do this. I’m sorry. Forgive me.”

No.

I cannot die. I fought too hard. I will not die. I have too much to live for. I need to escape. I need to get back to my ship. I can’t clone outside of my pod. C’mon body, get up. Get up! Kill them. Kill them all! I need to …

Deafening loudness. Darkness. Screaming light.

I awaken.