Rebirth

“We weren’t the nice boys they thought we were. And we weren’t nice boys, we were fucking little bastards… and we still are” – Sid Vicious

Waking up in a new clone left Thanagherion blind, nothing but a helpless child suspended in warm fluid, in the claustrophic embrace of a glass coffin where sound could not reach her. She kept her eyes closed, although it made no difference whatsoever: she couldn't see anything even if she were to open her eyes wide. Besides, when awaking in a new clone the simple fluttering of eyelids took so much effort, she had learned to conserve all her energy.

There was absolutely no light inside that glass womb. The only images that assaulted her in there were those of her most recent demise. A battle, a big one at that and the world appearing to go into slow motion as the first enemies came pouring through the gate. She could still hear the chirping sound of the first few locks and the gentle rocking of her Drake-Class Battlecruiser as a couple of volleys took flight. Next thing she knew, she was floating on a pod. Shortly after that people were locking her… and then a blank, a crimson and white burst that left a psychological afterimage which was vivid enough to make her try to fill her lungs and scream, to no avail.

She felt her muscles tense up as the fluid which suspended her drained and the chamber opened, her world exploding to crescendo of white light and cold air. She tried to stay up, but her knees buckled under her own weight and she just clattered to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. The memories of her body weren’t really up to par with the use this clone had. She was a newborn and it would take a few hours until she could break it in and get her normal strength and reflexes back. No matter what everyone told you, walking into a new clone wasn’t exactly seamless. Than cursed hoarsely as her arm hit the metal railing with a loud wet crash. The only sharp, jagged thing in this particular room and she had to hit it. “Typical”, she couldn't help thinking. She eyed the blood trickling down her forearm, pressed her hand to the gash and sighed, enjoying the cold air and the feeling of being alive, all the while trying to staunch the bleeding and ignore the pain. She had better success at the first one, truth be told, but she didn’t allow more than a low groan pass her lips. She heard Moira come into the hall and running to her.

-You know, you could just wait for help. Damn it: that's going to leave a scar and you should have a few stitches.

-Since when you became a medical doctor? It's ok Moira. It's just another dent. Pity, it’s a brand new clone. I’m going to have to live with this one for a while… - she neglected to say she didn’t think “a while” would be that long this time. It was getting serious out there.

-Why do I sometimes get the feeling you do this to yourself on purpose?

-Can you get me my cigarettes? - Than replied, changing the subject and focusing on trying to stand up on shaky legs.

-You should take a shower.

-I know. I just need a bandage and I really need a cigarette and shot of bourbon. Then I'll take a shower to get this gunk off... - She didn't add the "when I'm able to stand" thought which crossed her mind.

Moira sat on the floor beside her boss and brought the Neocom with the appointments for the day. Business as usual was the way to handle Than on moments like this: she did not handle vulnerability well.

-Just cancel everything – she said quietly, stopping Moira before she had time to glance at the information on the blue lit pane.

-What do you mean? – Moira asked, taken aback by the out of character way Than reacted.

-War. War is coming. Now, help me up…

Moira looked at her, eyes widening in amazement.

-Please… Help me, I need to get into an interceptor and try to rejoin the fray. – Thanagherion asked again, a hint of hidden pain in her eyes.

Moira had never seen her boss like that. She was used to the obnoxious, ever joking and an overall infuriating impersonation of a human being… she wasn’t used to seeing her ask for help. She wasn’t used to think of her like a real person.

-How bad? – Moira managed to say, putting the Neocom on the floor, between the two of them.

-Bad. Here, - Than keyed a few commands that gave Moira access to battle reports and comms, while she fumbled with the lighter – see for yourself.

Moira glanced at the data, gently took the lighter from her boss’s hand and lit the cigarette, then proceeded to take one from the pack and light it up herself.

-We can beat this. We will beat this. You guys are survivors, after all – she replied, after a minute of silence.

-Yeah, well… not if I stay here sitting on my ass. By the way, that cigarette is comin’ out of your paycheck.

Now, that was the obnoxious Thanagherion she knew and hated.