I Fell From The Dark

4

The next time that she woke, she was no longer weighed down with fatigue. She wasn't sure, but she thought that her eyesight had improved: the world seemed a little bit less blurry. She held up her hand to her face, stared at the brown haze which moved around, urging it to resolve. It didn't, but she thought it might. She yawned, and then realised just how hungry she was.

'Pilgrim?'

Her tongue was no longer an inert, uncooperative bag of meat in her mouth.

'Hello Mia. You look better.'

Mia, she thought. My name is Mia.

She nodded.

'Thank you. I feel better. I still can't see much, but I'm hungry. I guess that's a good sign?'

'Yes, it is. I'll get you some food.'

Her hearing had improved, too. She could hear... what? A low rumble which seemed to be everywhere, a bass which shook through the bed and rattled her flesh and bones.

'What's that noise, Pilgrim?'

'It's the engines. We're braking, slowing down. We've been doing that for nearly a year and a half. I'm sure you'll stop noticing it soon.'

Engines. The gaps in her memory yawned like a chasm, but even then, those words didn't seem to make much sense.

'Where am I? Is this a... hospital?'

'Not quite. You're on a spaceship. We're going to another star. You're waking up because you're the planetary scientist who's going to help me analyse the data from the first probes that I launched, months ago. I know that waking from deep sleep is hard. I'm sorry. You'll be up and about soon enough.'

Panic rushed up to engulf her. This was like a nightmare. 'I don't know anything about planets. I don't remember anything...'

'Don't worry. It's always like this. It'll come back. Now, I'm going to lift you up.'

The bed changed shape around her; it raised her into a sitting position, moulding itself to support her head and her neck. She wasn't weak, as such: instead, her muscles felt like they were made of clay, unresponsive and sullen. Any movement required intense concentration: it was a battle of wills with physics and her body. However, that meant that when she raised her head from the bed, looked around at the pale, blurry view, she was filled with a sense of achievement.

'Let's try eating, shall we?' Pilgrim said. 'It's not very exciting, I'm afraid: ship food isn't generally, and this is isn't much more than soup. But it would be good to start getting some nutrients into you.'

There was movement in front of her, a darker smudge which slid over her lap. Her hands were clumsy, but she managed to reach the edge of this new thing. It was just a plastic tray, but its firmness was somehow thrilling after a world of soft edges and restraints. She ran her fingers over it, enjoying the texture.

'Okay,' Pilgrim said. 'I'm going to put the soup down on the tray. It's a squeezy bag. It's not hot and it's not cold. It's going to be really hard to eat, but I'd like you to try a mouthful.'

Move movement. A plastic object touched the tips of her right fingers. She reached out and knocked it away, but it was moved back to within her grasp.

From there it was slow, gentle, patient torture. Everything was hard. Holding, lifting, locating her mouth, squeezing, swallowing; each step was an ordeal, endless failures peppered with occasional triumphs. Pilgrim celebrated her victories and commiserated in her defeats.

However, after what felt like a lifetime she was eating without help. The soup probably wasn't fantastic cuisine, but right there and then, it was the best thing she'd tasted. She licked away every last drop, let out a satisfied sigh and slumped back into the bed.

'That was wonderful, thank you, Pilgrim.'

'You're welcome. I think you should rest, now, Mia.'

She was indeed exhausted. The mental and physical focus required had been huge. She yawned hugely.

'I'm looking forward to seeing you. When do you think my eyes will work properly?' Mia asked.

'Should be pretty soon, actually. We'll try some exercises when you wake up. Now, sleep! I'll clean up.'

The bed lowered itself under her, and sleep took her almost immediately.