@tragedienes //
"You're awake."
Soap heard her cryobed beeping from where he stood in the control room about 15 feet away. When there was beeping, that typically indicated movement within. And when there was movement wtihin, that meant whoever was inside was finally waking up.
Not everyone in their quadrant on the ship had that luxury. Most, if not all, of the cryobeds he'd found when he first woke up a few days ago were emptied. Not empty—but emptied, as if something had dragged each occupant out and elsewhere. Signs of struggle ranged from scratch marks on glass, traces of blood.
Hers was the last cryobed he found that still had someone inside, sleeping. Besides his own. Why they were left alive, Soap had no clue why. Hell, he wasn't even sure she was ever going to wake up. Maybe she'd died in there, all the oxygen stripped when their ship went stagnant.
He remembered the name on the side of her cryobed: INGRID SERGEANT. She was the one he was supposed to guard once the ship got to its destination during her affairs; he wasn't sure what. Well, this was one helluva wrench in their plans.
Soap tossed a nutrition bar her way. The waking-up process, especially when unnatural and not prompted by a button on someone's control panel, was a rough one. He could tell her.
"You're gonna wanna eat something. Or else you'll vomit nothing but your guts."
