#daniel is loosely inspired by prof. bhaer btw. just so you know

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

Bury the Dead (with a Stitch Through the Stars)

@inklings-challenge

1.

though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light

i have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night

[The Old Astronomer To His Pupil, Sarah Williams]

Thirsty.

It’s the only thing she can think. It’s all dark and her eyes are sticky shut and she’s so thirsty. It isn’t supposed to make a sound.

Her eyes flicker open to the weak barking whine that come out of her without meaning to. “Thirsty,” she whines, though it’s not supposed to sound like that. When she blinks the stickiness from her eyes a person comes into view, blurry at first. It isn’t one she recognizes. She hopes this one won’t hurt her. She hopes this one will help her.

“Ah, there you are,” says the person in a soft rumbly voice. It’s a man with strangely colored eyes and a wiry beard speckled and striped with white around his mouth. He presses a hand to her back, making her shiver, and she sits up almost surprised to have been lying like that. 

“Alright, there you go,” says this careful man. He tips his head in a question she cannot answer, then quickly walks away. She wants to follow him, instinctively, but thinks she does not have the strength. So she just whimpers. There is no one else to hear her. But it’s as if that calls the man back, because he returns with a worried look and holding a small clear cup. She can nearly smell the liquid inside it, can taste it already, and finds her limbs flailing as she reaches for it. 

The strange man holds up a finger. She knows that that means wait. She forces herself to still and the man smiles behind his beard. That’s good, isn’t it? 

“Drink it slowly,” he says. “Don’t shock your system. You’ll feel very thirsty for a while, but you had an IV the entire time to keep you hydrated.”

She isn’t sure what most of that means, but she tries to drink the cool, sweet water slowly like he said. She wants this man to be happy with her. She dips her tongue into the cup first, as if to lap it up, and ends up spilling much of it when her hands fumble. 

“Careful, now,” chuckles the man. He has a familiar rolling accent, and she both knows and does not know the language he speaks in. “You were a part of the younger batch, but your charts didn’t show a name,” he says once she has sipped down all of the water. “You can call me Daniel,” he continues. “and you are?”

She tips her head sideways. There is only a piece of something she thinks may have been a name, once. “I don’t know,” she tries to say, her voice raspy from dis- and mis-use. 

The man, Daniel, nods. He turns and writes something down somewhere. She tenses at this. This is familiar. She doesn’t think this is good. “That’s perfectly alright,” Daniel reassures her, though. “Amnesia is a noted side effect of this type of cryogenic inducement, especially at these rates.”

She tries to clear her throat. It sounds like a growl. “Is it… forever?” She asks. It does not bother her. She would just like to know, since it seems that she can ask. 

Daniel hesitates, tipping first one shoulder up and then the other, one side and then the next, like swaying back and forth. “Most often, no. It can be permanent in some cases, but usually it’s a case of time and patience. You’ll be fine,” he says kindly. “Do you have a name you would like me to call you in the meantime?” 

She thinks of the last warm voice she remembers. It fades in and out of her memory, black and white. “I think…” she licks her lips. “Lai?” And watches for a reaction. 

Daniel nods. He writes another thing down, maybe her name? And smiles. “It’s good to meet you, Lai. I’ve already told you my name. I’m this vessel’s generational medic. If you have any health concerns, you may come to me anytime. And since you seem to be suffering from post-cryosleep memory loss, let me explain:

“We are aboard the mid-journey ship Aleya, en route to an experimental colony on the upper edges of the star Earendel’s solar range. As you likely learned in school before your boarding, if you remember that, humans can only stay in a cryogenized state for so long before bodily systems begin to break down, so this journey has been planned in stages. You and I will not see the light of Earendel in our lifetimes.” His voice quietens at this, a wry smile faintly visible in his eyes if not his mouth. “This generation will grow old and reproduce and raise each other so that when they are of a safe age, the next can go to sleep knowing they will wake in their new home.” 

Lai sits very still, watching Daniel intently. All of what he is saying sounds very big. Big words she does not know, big ideas she can’t understand, but what she does hear is that what they are doing is big, very big, bigger than anything she’s done before. “I’m… important?” She hears herself say, strange raspy high voice she isn’t used to. 

Daniel nods, smiles again. She likes that. The smile directed at her, mostly, but also the being important. She thinks she’s been told that before. She thinks it’s nice. She tips her head. “So what now?” She questions. There must be more beyond this space they’re in. How much is there she can’t see? From what Daniel said, everything seems very vast. She isn’t sure about that.

Daniel breathes out thoughtfully. “There are semi-private living quarters enough for everyone onboard this craft. You were the last of the batch to come out of cryo, so I will escort you to re-meet the rest of them, so you won’t run the risk of getting lost. Do you feel strong enough to walk a slight distance?” 

She hesitates, then nods. She believes she can manage, but Daniel still has to steady her for a moment when she slides from the cot she was on. Standing on two feet feels strange. She looks up at Daniel, nervously licking her lips. She sneezes.

“будь здоро́ва,” Daniel chuckles as Lai stares at him, wide-eyed. She feels her face form into a grin, teeth showing and all.

“мой родной язык,” She exclaims in kind. My mother tongue! 

Daniel nods thoughtfully. “I thought as much. It’s mine as well, ancestrally at least.” He says the last as an aside, half quietly and looking off as it at nothing before his gaze fixes back onto Lai. “Shall we go?” He holds out his hand in beckoning and from instinct, Lai reaches out and takes it. Daniel watches this, puzzled, but does not pull his hand away and she is grateful. 

He leads her into a long, high-roofed hallway, walking slowly as if he worries she cannot keep up. But she does. She follows him by the hand through the tall white halls, head turned wonderingly up to see the ceiling, tiled in reflective blue. “What is that?” She asks softly. 

Daniel follows her gaze up. “Ah. Stained glass,” he says. “This hall ends in the chapel, if you were to return the way we’ve just come,” he explains. “The stained glass lights the way. I like to think it offers some semblance of hope, as well. The rest of the Aleya is not so artful.” 

The blue-ceilinged hall opens into a wide, vast place that immediately dizzies her when she reaches it, and she grasps onto Daniel’s hand harder. There are platforms at all levels around the edges of the tall, too tall walls, some wrapping all the way as far as she can see and disappearing into halls that must be similar to the one they’ve just emerged from. She gasps softly taking it all in, layers upon layers of floors and platforms, small forms moving around atop them and at the bottom, maybe a real floor. There are dozens of enormous glass windows, filled with inky blackness broken up by specks and swirls of light. It’s familiar. It scares her. It’s all she can see. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Asks Daniel softly. She looks up at him again, eyes pleading, don’t leave me, keep me safe. “Are you okay?”

Lai shudders. “это огромно,” She whispers. It’s vast.

Daniel hums and nods. “действительно.” Indeed, he tells her. “It’s our whole world.” 

He leads her across the platforms in a complicated thread where her feet stutter and hesitate at times. She follows blindly, still staring around at this place, so big, so cold. She can hardly wrap her head around it. The sky outside is so dark, but is it still the sky with them in it? She doesn’t know. She isn’t sure she wants to know. The sky is their whole world, it seems.

They turn down another hall, plain ceiling tiles above them instead of stained glass. She follows them with her eyes, losing count every few, and follows Daniel by sound. His footsteps are steady, steady, then stop and Lai finds herself in a more shadowy room, where there’s a rustle of blended sounds and smaller doors that lead off into who knows where.

There are more people in there, in varying states of motion. A man with dark skin sits on a rounded, cushioned bench frowning and squinting at a flat, glowing object in his hand. Two children hover behind a different man who stands in a corner speaking to a woman with green eyes. In a chair near a doorway there is a girl with curly hair holding a book, turned sideways with her legs thrown over the arm of the chair. Scattered all about the room are little metal bottles that she is sure are full of water. 

“Last one?” Asks the dark skinned man, looking up. He sets down the glowing thing and stands. “Took a while, didn’t it?” 

“She did,” Daniel agrees, lightly squeezing Lai’s hand before letting go. She tries to not be upset at that. But then he puts his hand on her shoulder and it warms her. “This is Lai. She’s suffering from a touch of post-freeze memory loss, so if someone would like to help her settle in…” 

The girl with the book unfolds herself from the chair. “I’ve got her, doctor,” She says in a lilting accent. “There is a bed in our cabin anyway, with Marla and her sister as well.” She offers Lai a smile. “I’m Esperanza.” 

“Hello,” Lai says. This girl is taller than her, moves strangely. Her hair is long and curly. Lai thinks she is interesting. 

“I will leave you to settle in,” says Daniel. Lai turns to watch him go and wishes he wouldn’t leave. “Желаю вам удачи,” He says in their shared first language. I wish you good luck.