VANGUARD FRONTIERS
LOCATION UNKNOWN

She hadn’t left his side since the incident. She didn’t know why, but she felt it was her responsibility; her obligation and duty to be there for him. She had even cleaned and organized his workshop, no small feat, but it helped her occupy the hours of the day, distracted her from the medical equipment and its incessant beeping. She realized she shouldn’t complain about the beeping, it was a constant reminder that PyjamaSam wasn’t dead.

Lady Grey could feel the tears welling up inside her again. She had only received basic field medicine training, as did all capsuleers, and she had messed up, sending herself into a hysteria when she thought PyjamaSam was dead. She still didn’t know why it upset her as much as it had; she had seen many allies die; she was no stranger to death.

But it had, and she had countless hours since the incident to dwell on those feelings, and other feelings that accompanied it. She shaved PyjamaSam’s face, she sponge bathed his body; she changed his clothes and exercised his muscles to prevent bed sores and atrophy.

The medical team had arrived swiftly when she had sounded the emergency alarm. With ruthless efficiency, they had placed PyjamaSam on a gurney and diagnosed him. She remembered the wave of relief she felt when their doctor had pronounced PyjamaSam was alive; she remembered how her heart sank when he followed that up with a declaration of not knowing what was wrong with him, or how to help him. All they could do was make him comfortable, so she had.

She had received written exemption from her duties to tend to PyjamaSam; he was important to all of them. As the hours stretched by, many of her corpmates had dropped in to check on PyjamaSam, and to check on her. It was a somber mood that permeated VAF HQ. Who would’ve known the eccentric, reclusive man could have such an effect on them all?

She reached her hand gently across PyjamaSam’s face, moving a rebellious lock of hair to the side. He was actually handsome in his own way. She recoiled, admonishing herself quickly. What would people think if someone of her stature, assumed or real, was found to be romantically linked to someone like PyjamaSam. A part of her felt guilty at the thought, but she quickly drowned it out. No, she was here because someone had to be, not because she found herself fantasizing about the catatonic man before her, and the life they could have together.

She just wanted things to go back to normal, well, to go back to what passed as normal for them. She just wanted PyjamaSam to wake up, to do what he did, so she could get stop worrying and get back to her job. A part of her secretly hoped that he would be pleased when he saw how clean his workshop was, how much effort she had made to impress him. She scolded herself once again for allowing such girlish sentiments to rise to conscious thought.

Besides, the doctor said PyjamaSam may never wakeup. They hadn’t even unplugged him from the machine he was attached to. “It’s an unacceptable risk.” the doctor had said. “We have no idea what that machine is, nor how to operate it, and more importantly, how to turn it off without risk to Samual.”

She had watched the screen for the Null Aura more times than she could recall. She wasn’t sure what it was either, but she had an idea about it. It looked like a standard Aura interface, with similar controls, and she had voiced as much many times over, but the decision had been made not to interfere with whatever experiment PyjamaSam had found himself lost in.

Then there was the mysterious black box. It just sat there on a workbench, enticingly. She hadn’t touched it, hadn’t moved it during her numerous hours of cleaning. It scared her. She had no idea what it was, but it just gave off a “vibe”, if one believed in such things, an ominous feeling of dread, and she wanted nothing to do with it.

She assisted PyjamaSam’s body to drink some liquid. It was a protein drink filled with all the nutrients needed to nourish his body. He probably had never taken such good care of himself in his life. That made her giggle a little, but she quickly stifled it, looking around quickly to see if anyone had noticed, but of course, the workshop was empty except for PyjamaSam and herself.

Screw it. If nobody was willing to do anything, he might remain like this forever. She walked over to the Null Aura console. She knew what it was called because of the piece of tape on it, with the words handwritten in permanent marker. She had made many hypotheses on what it could be. Maybe it was some device that bent Aura to the will of the user. Maybe it was a device that was meant to destroy the Aura Network altogether, though she doubted PyjamaSam would ever create something so sinister. Maybe Null was an index of 0, his first version of an improved Aura interface. Nobody knew but him, and he wasn’t in a state to be very helpful.

She tapped some standard informational commands into the keyboard, like it was a standard Aura device. The responses were exactly what she would’ve expected from a public Aura terminal. She typed in some more commands, slowly feeling her confidence build. She could be the one to save him. Her conscience reminded her none too gently that she could also be the one to kill him.

That made her step back for a minute. She really was playing God here, and what gave her that right? She argued with herself internally for a good five minutes before finally setting her resolve and approaching the Null Aura terminal once more.

She inhaled deeply, holding the breath, then typed in the series of command to disengage the program, shutting it down.

There were some confirmation lines which appeared in rapid succession on the screen, then the cursor simply sat there, blinking, taunting her. She didn’t know what else was required. She counted in her mind, chancing a glance towards PyjamaSam. Nothing had changed in his condition. She looked back at the monitor. Ten seconds, twenty seconds…

“Hey.” she heard a voice say nearby, and nearly jumped out of her skin, a small shriek emitting from her mouth. Her breath wooshed out quickly, giving her a mild head rush. She realized she had been holding her breath the entire time.

She felt a small smile creeping onto her face, and some wetness on her cheek. She reached her hand to it quickly. She was crying. She turned back to the source of the voice; it was PyjamaSam, and he was awake.

She ran to his side as quickly as she could, urging him not to move, explaining to him that he had been unconscious for the better part of two days. His eyes rounded in surprise and shock, jittering back and forth rapidly, and she worried something was wrong. His brow furrowed, as his mind processed too many things too quickly. He then looked down at his hand, which until that moment, she didn’t realize she had been holding. She quickly released it, darting her hands behind her back, her face flushing crimson.

PyjamaSam looked her up and down for a moment, then tilted his head slightly. “Lady Grey, yes?” he said in a dry voice. She nodded shyly, then reached to give him a glass of protein drink. He waved it away, shaking his head, and slowly tried to sit upright. She put the drink down nearby, and assisted him to a seated position.

“There’s no time, no time.” He spoke softly, distantly, to her, to nobody. His eyes refocused on her, startling her, and he said firmly, with confidence, “We need to warn the others; the Republic fleet will be coming for us.”

He sounded crazy. He sounded delusional. He sounded like someone who had suffered some type of brain damage from whatever experiment he had been running on his fool self. He sounded unbelievable; yet she believed him. Dammit, she believed him. There was a rightness in her gut about it; a sense of truth. He wasn’t lying. The Minmatar Republic Fleet was coming to VAF, and nobody knew.

“By the way,” PyjamaSam said, “How would you like to meet Elly?”