Blip A Detected

Reed | 22 | he/him/him •Current fixations: Project Hail Mary & Iron Lung •Reblog account: rockyamaze •You can also find me on AO3 @rivercattail •Recently got back into writing

[rivercattail]

Commended to the Stars (Part 1)

Summary: Eddie wakes up in a strange place and deals with the aftermath of being comatose for almost four years.

Pairings: Eddie Moon (OC) x Ryland Grace

Word Count: 2.9k

Content Warnings: Knee injury & talk of problems relating to said injury, allusion to car crash

Notes: This is my first time writing/posting in years, so please be patient with me! I don't have a set schedule for this, but hopefully I will eventually. Let me know if there's any triggers I missed, but otherwise, enjoy!

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“What is two plus two?”

Fog clouds my senses, making the words sound distant and muffled. I inhale deeply, a groan escaping me as I roll my head toward the voice. My eyelids are heavy and refuse to open.

“What is two plus two?” The voice repeats, feminine and measured–sounding oddly robotic.

Four is what I meant to say, but what comes out is, “fffllrrrr…”

Huh, that’s odd. Why am I struggling to speak? And why is my throat so sore?

“Incorrect. What is two plus two?” The voice speaks in the same cadence as before, lacking emotion, and making me wonder who was talking to me. They didn’t sound very human, in fact, they truly sounded like a robot. Is a computer talking to me?

I try to open my eyes again, succeeding only barely before I’m blinded by bright, white light. Squeezing my eyes shut, I focus on the question again.

“Ffffrrrr.” 

Damn, I really thought I had it that time.

“Incorrect. What is two plus two?”

I huff, starting to get annoyed. Would it kill the computer to give me a bit of patience? 

“Ffffffourrr.” A few droplets of spit splattering on my lips from the effort of forming the word, but I don’t care. Please let that be enough.

“Correct.”

Oh thank goodness. 

Feeling brave, I take another stab at opening my eyes. It’s a little easier this time, but the light is still blinding and making it hard to see details. Tilting my head to the side, everything appears blurry and in various shades of white.

“What is the cube root of eight?”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Two.”

“Correct.”

Good, maybe now the thing will leave me alone. I try to sit up, but my body barely moves aside from my arms twitching. Why is this so hard? I try again, managing to lift my head and arms a bit, but that’s it. 

Grumbling, I steal what little energy I have and put it all into throwing myself into a sitting position, and it works! I’m left panting and my head feels a little dizzy, but I did it! Despite how my body sways involuntarily, I manage not to fall back onto the oval-shaped bed, but only because of the iron-tight grip I have on the sides of the bed.

“Movement detected. Remain still.”

Blinking a few times, my vision finally starts to come into focus, and what I see makes me pause. 

In front of me are two metal arms that hang from the ceiling, each “hand” equipped with various intimidating tools. That answered my question of what was talking to me, but I didn’t have time to feel comforted by having my question answered because the creepy metal arms began to reach towards me.

I try to dodge the hands, but my fatigued body prevents me from getting very far. My muscles tense as the hands begin removing the plethora of tubes sticking out of me, twitching at the feeling. It feels like having a bunch of worms being pulled out of my skin. And just as quickly as they had approached, the metal arms pull away, leaving just an IV in my right arm, a tube up my butt, and a catheter. The IV doesn’t bother me, but the latter two are a smidge uncomfortable, now that I am aware of them. 

Another thing that I am now aware of is the fact that I am completely naked. 

Under normal circumstances that would make me uncomfortable, but the cluster of nasty-looking scars wrapping around my right knee stole all of my attention. My eyebrows pinch together, and I reach out to touch the scars–

*****

The screech of breaks…shattering glass…screaming and white and pain, pain, PAIN–

*****

A gasp rips from my throat at the onslaught of mental images. They are jumbled and fly by faster than I can process, but I am able to hang onto a few. 

The backseat of a car, broken glass and metal everywhere, two people slumped over in the front seat…they look familiar…

“Emotional distress detected.” 

The taste of salt on my tongue brings me back a little, and it’s then that I notice how wet my eyes are and how tight my chest is. I try to suck air into my lungs, but it’s not enough, and a choked noise falls from my lips. 

Who were those people in my…memories? I can only assume they are memories. They look familiar, but something in my mind is preventing me from recognizing them. The more I try, the more my hands shake. The images flashing in my head won’t stop, and the bed I’m sitting on feels too small as my vision starts to blur.

I pull myself closer to the edge of the bed to…what? Get up, or maybe puke? I’m unsure what I was attempting to do, but neither of those things end up happening due to the sudden wave of fatigue that washes over me.

Glancing over, I see the hazy form of the metal arms fiddling with the IV tube still stuck in my arm. I have just enough awareness to realize the robot sedated me before darkness takes hold.

*****

I was starting to worry that my knee might just implode. 

It’s not that I wasn’t used to spending long hours at my desk; I spent far more time at my desk than not, and at that point I might as well live there. Rather, it was the combination of spending the entire work day hunched over my computer and the humidity that had rolled in with the rainy day.

Working in a lab as a documentation specialist required long hours spent writing, reviewing, and managing the various documents that came my way, so I was familiar with the aches and stiffness that came with sitting down all day–especially with my bad knee. Stretch breaks and brief walks around the office were a part of my work routine.

But those only got me so far on a good day, and when humidity was added to the mix? Hell on earth as far as my knee was concerned. No matter how protected the lab was from the outside weather, the humidity always seemed to creep in, making my knee ache something fierce.

My cane clacked on the concrete of the parking garage as I hobbled my way to my car. I had taken my cane today, along with my soft knee brace rather than my hinged brace, the breathable material had been a blessing with how muggy it was. 

However, it was a small comfort compared to the ache pulsing in my knee. Every few steps made me wince, and I could hear the ibuprofen bottle in the glove box of my car calling my name. It wouldn’t get rid of the aching, but it would lessen it, and I would take whatever I could get at the moment.

It was only as I got closer that I realized there was someone standing next to my car.

The woman wore a crisp suit and was carrying a small briefcase. Her hair was long and neatly kept, its red color contrasting with her dark suit. She seemed to be in her mid forties and of average height, but her straight posture made her seem taller. 

“Eddie Moon?” The woman asked, though it sounded more like a statement.

“Yes, who’s asking?”

“My name is Eva Stratt, I’m with the Petrova Taskforce.” She had an accent of some kind–German, or maybe Dutch?

“And that is…?” 

“I assume you are aware of the Petrova line and the ArcLight probe.” Stratt barely waited for me to nod before she continued. “The Petrova Taskforce is an international body created to deal with the Petrova-line situation. I’ve been tasked with finding a solution, and have been given a certain amount of authority to get things done.”

I eyed her warily. “Given a certain amount of authority? By whom?”

“Every member of the UN.”

My jaw dropped, and she must have seen the question in my expression because she supplied, “Unanimous secret vote–it’s complicated. I am here because of your occupation. You are a documentation specialist, yes?”

Her question once again seemed more like a statement. Why is she asking if she apparently already knows the answer?

“What about it?” My knee pulsed, and I leaned more on my cane to take some of the weight off my right leg. “And if we could make this brief, it would be greatly appreciated.” I tried to keep my tone polite, but knee pains were always a sure-fire way to shorten my patience.

“This will be brief if you cooperate.” 

Totally not an ominous thing to say…

“Then what’s this about?”

“You are going to be one of the Petrova Taskforce’s documentation specialists.”

I was grateful that I had already been leaning into my cane, otherwise I might have stumbled.

“What?”

“A documentation specialist for the Petrova Taskforce. You start today.”

This time I did reel back. “Wait, hold on. I don’t think you have that level of authority.”

“Actually, I do.” Stratt’s casualness was beginning to annoy me.

“You can’t just pull me from my job out of the blue! The transfer process isn’t that simple, and I didn’t even agree to–”

“The sun is dying, and the Petrova line has something to do with it. There’s no time for legal or official processes, and my authority outranks anything held by your lab. I need documentation specialists present in the Taskforce, and your experience makes you more than qualified.” She spoke as if discussing simple facts, as if this wouldn’t completely upend my life.

“Surely there are plenty of people out there more qualified than me. I have a life here! I have rent to pay for, and–” 

Stratt cut me off again, and I had the urge to hit her with my cane. “What life, Mr. Moon? Your whole life, you have never remained in one area for more than a few years. You just moved last year, you have no immediate family, no partner, and no pet.”

“…I have a snake,” I frowned, slightly hunching in on myself as I realized that Stratt knew more about me than I was comfortable with.

“Mr. Moon,” she remarked, ignoring my comment. “You have traded one lab for another since you graduated, working the same expendable positions. Your skills would actually be meaningful with the Petrova Taskforce.”

Her dismissive tone made my hackles raise instinctively…because she was right. I hadn’t had a stable home since I was 12, always on the move from home to home, from lab to lab. I was good at what I did, it brought me fulfillment, and it was easy to integrate into a new area until I blended into the background, making friendly acquaintances, but never friends. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy the places I moved to, but nothing ever felt right. 

Always good, but never great. 

“…I don’t have a choice, do I?” I sighed, deflating.

“You do. You can choose to be brought in willingly, or by force. Either way, there is a car waiting for you at your apartment. You have three hours to pack your belongings.”

“Wait, pack my belongings? Where is the Petrova Taskforce centered?”

“You will find out soon enough. Just be ready in three hours.” 

With that, Stratt turned and walked away, leaving me with a torrent of emotions and racing thoughts. I wasn’t sure how long I stood there, trying to wrap my head around it all, but I eventually stumbled over to my car and collapsed into the driver’s seat. I inhaled slowly, then exhaled…inhaled, exhaled…inhaled…

A shaky sign escaped me as I dropped my head onto the steering wheel.

What the hell did I get myself into?

*****

This time when I wake up, it’s not nearly as disorienting as the first time. 

The robotic arms are just as freaky though, and I flinch at the sight of them hanging above me.

“Conciousness detected. What is your name?”

A detail of my dream–no, memory–floats to the surface of my mind and I mumble out, “Eddie Moon.”

“Correct. Documentation Specialist Eddie Moon was placed in a medically-induced coma during the expedition as a safety precaution. Patient has been woken up early to begin documentation.” 

Documentation…?

That has to be referencing my job–a documentation specialist. I used to work in a lab, though what kind of lab is still unknown, until I was recruited by a woman named Eva Stratt. Well, recruited is a generous term, more like I was kidnapped. But the reasoning behind my “recruitment” is still beyond my memory currently. 

A few terms from my memory stand out as I ease myself into a sitting position. The Petrova line, the Taskforce, and ArcLight probe…they feel just familiar enough to know that I should know what they mean, but that’s it. It’s as if looking through a gauzy curtain; it’s thin enough to get a rough idea of what’s behind it while still obscuring any real details.

In my memory, Stratt had also mentioned that the sun was dying, which is…an unsettling thought, to put it lightly. The thought alone, along with whatever the Petrova line is, is enough for my anxiety to spike, even if I can’t remember the details of either of them.

My thoughts slam to a halt as the rest of the robot’s words catch up to me. It mentioned an expedition, which doesn’t ring any bells, so where the hell am I? 

I spot a lander across the room, which gives me an idea. My memories might be hazy and unable to give me anything concrete, but maybe the answers to my questions lie beyond the hatch at the top of the ladder.

Swinging my legs off the edge of the bed, I am reminded of two issues. One, I am still very naked, and two, my right knee is still mangled. The sight of it doesn’t send me into a panic like it did before, which is appreciated, but it still poses a problem. Will I be able to climb the ladder with my bad knee?

Thankfully, solutions to both of my problems present themselves. Secured to the side of my bed in netting are a few items. At the top are two braces, one rigid and bulky, and one soft and lightweight. Laying beneath them is a sleek wooden cane, its color a deep brown, almost red, and embedded at the top was a faded gold handle, decorated with the faint carvings of two, twisting snakes. 

I glance down at my body, noticing the snake tattoo that wraps around my left bicep. I must like snakes, especially since I recall owning one in my memory.

I turn my attention to the ladder once more before deciding on the rigid brace. It slips on with ease, as if it were second nature, which at this point, it probably is. 

Once that issue is resolved, I gather one of the sheets on my bed. As I tie it around my waist, my thoughts drift back to my questions from before. Where am I, and how did I get here? The room I am in has no windows, just the robot, me, my bed, and three other beds housing three other people–who are probably unconscious. Part of me wants to see who they are, maybe try to rouse them and see if they know anything more that could help me, but my curiosity of the area beyond the hatch in the ceiling wins out in the end. 

The robot said expedition specifically, which implies that we’re traveling somewhere. Were we in a submarine? That would explain the no windows, but it was only a theory. The only other details I had were the few given to me in my memory. Stratt talked about something called the Petrova line, and how it was likely causing the sun to die. She also mentioned the ArcLight probe…

Wait… 

A probe, the sun was–is?–dying, this windowless room I am in, I was in a medically-induced coma…

My heart skips a beat and an idea washes over me like ice water, chilling me to the core. My leisurely pace to the ladder turns into a scramble, my knee is stiff from who knows how long of inactivity, but it’s suddenly the least of my concerns. 

Once I reach the top, I grab the circular handle and twist until I hear a click, then throw the hatch open. I am met with darkness, but as I continue to pull myself up the ladder, lights flick on. Still no window in sight, so I keep climbing, my movements frantic and sloppy, and the fact that I just recently woke up from a coma isn’t helping. My poorly restrained panic also isn’t helping, but I try not to let it get the best of me.

A few grunts escape me as my knee protests the sudden exertion, and I’m grateful when I reach a landing that leads off into a short hallway. I’m panting by the time I haul myself up, but I only allow myself a few seconds to catch my breath before I'm back on my feet. There’s a small port at the end of the hall, and within a few strides I reach the window, my heart dropping before I can even make sense of what I’m seeing.

Beyond the window lay a vast expanse of inky black littered with stars.

Fuck me.