Lance locked himself in his room. His attempts to explore quickly went from listless attempts to keep up appearances, Sitting on his stiff hospital bed he stared off into nothing. His heartbeat and one of the aged service drones were his only companions, and neither were the conversationalists Lance desired.
He was Alone; a feeling he was used to but this level of loneliness, and isolation weighed on him like a boulder. He was an alien on an alien world, every aspect of this place was just familiar enough to amplify the solitude he felt.
His spiral dragged him down. He tried to talk with the Officer, but that went nowhere Lance couldn't read the man, who had mostly remained unmoved from his post for weeks. It was clear no matter what he tried the Officer wasn't interested in interacting with him
Lance thought back to the detective he met that night in the ambulance. A part of Lance knew that if he called for him he would have someone to talk to, though the thought of whatever truth serum crawled wormed itself through his veins gave him pause, he knew if he invited that man back here there would be an array of uncomfortable questions and if this stint in the hospital taught Lance anything it was that he was not built for prison. Lance recalled the only other face he knew on this world. While his mind was in a fugue state at that point he could still recall the paramedic that was there, Reke or Reike, much of what he remembered from that day was the painful sensation of the Nanites crawling through every inch of his body.
Lance trudged to the door. Swinging it open, he stared at the young officer, his face flat and indifferent. The man quickly matched him and stood up from his seat piercing Lance with two unnaturally grey eyes.
***
POV
ROSHENKO
Roshenko was once again buried in his case, the past weeks' focus being looking into the countless groups mentioned in the files. It was a herculean task; one that was only further made difficult by his captain's desire to keep the team on this as small as possible, he claimed for security reasons but Roshenko knew it was because the old codger refused to spare him any more manpower for a case that the Planetary Armed Forces could take in a heartbeat.
The steady ring of his comm interrupted his workflow, the holographic display projected the ID of Officer O'Malley, the poor grunt who was assigned to watch over the wayward pilot. Without pause Roshenko answered the call, the projection of O'Malley sputtered to life.
"O'Malley, did he finally break?" Roshenko wasted no time with civilities, he wanted this case done with, his wife was beginning to feel like a figment of his imagination and his bed called him like a forlorn lover.
"Three weeks! Three damned weeks, you and the boss have me sitting out here watching this idiot. Yeah, he's ready to talk but only to the paramedic…" O'Malley struggled to recall the name he just heard. Roshenko felt bad that he kept the young officer here for so long, but he was allotted only one man and he figured that the amnesiac wouldn't last more than a few days, he was frankly impressed with the mental fortitude of both men.
"I'll meet you at the hospital, get the staff to page Reke, after that take a day or two off I'll tell the boss you are doing some leg work for me."
"Thanks detective. Even with the Mods going it hasn't been easy, especially with this little brat trying to sneak out every day." O'Malley's projection relaxed, his shoulder slumping down as leaned back in his chair.
Roshenko quickly hung up, grabbing his coat off of the back of his chair he reached his hand into the mountain that laid atop his desk, with surprising precision he pulled out his tablet and ran to the door.
***
The paramedic was clearly called in on one of her rare days off, the disheveled clothing and the brown hair barely combed reminded Roshenko of the countless times he was called in on an emergency. Her hands wrapped around a thick travel mug.
"Only me? I get the crash is a big deal sir..." Reke wearily began.
"-But could it have waited till tomorrow." Roshenko interjected, it's a statement Roshenko himself had said dozens of times over his career. "Look Orla, can I call you Orla."
"I'm not clocked in, call me whatever you want." Reke reply was followed with an agonizing yawn. "Can we make it quick this was my first real day off in weeks."
The pair stood in front of a surprisingly quiet nurse's station though seeing the disarray, that covered every single workstation it was clear that this was due to most of the men and women responding to emergencies. On occasion, the loud klaxon of an emergency would send Reke into a subconscious work mode, only for the woman to drag herself out of it.
"Look I can't tell you how big it is but the Planetary Government is interested in this Orla. very interested." Roshenko replied after one alarm which sent a veritable tidal wave of of medical professionals running down the hall.
"Interested enough to send us back out." Reke asked flatly, there was a distaste, a tension in her voice.
Roshenko nodded, the woman studied his face, analyzing every microexpression hoping for something to tell her it's a lie. She calmly signaled to one of the Drones to grab Lance's file
"Where is his room?"
***
POV LANCE
Lance sat in his dismal room, his boredom drove him to recognize far more flaws in it, each little quibble amplified in a mind desperate to latch onto anything but his own thoughts. The chipping paint hid dozens of layers of grime that one would be mortified to see in a hospital. Lance's bed which had quickly became his most trusted companion in these lonely times creaked was rougher than his recent memories told him. He felt this place was soft and reassuring as a hospital should be; maybe it was the solitude, but it felt like his mind was betraying him. If this was his mind.
Lance's ruminations were broken with a steady rasp on the door. He stood up, vainly straightening the hospital gown that had been his only attire for weeks. "A star-hopping rogue should never look too bad.' he thought to himself, though unlike the ego driven thoughts of his first days, the words felt sardonic in his mind.
"Come in." Lance tried to keep his voice controlled, this was the first time anyone actually knocked, in the dozens of times he dealt with medical professionals the small act already shattered any remaining control he had. Orla Reke stepped through the doorway, closing the door behind her.
"Hey…I see they have you in the presidential suite." Reke said softly, the tone was clearly one of practiced bedside manner, a blend of concern and levity that would make most feel at ease. Lance wasn't immune.
"Is this where you guys put most of your dignitaries." Lance tried to avoid putting too much emotion in his words, he was afraid if he let anything out it would pour out in a deluge. He had dozens of questions bubble in the back of his mind; 'When could he leave?' 'What do they want from him?' each one he swallowed as he studied Reke.
"I don't remember anything." Lance began, taking lead of the conversation. He could see Reke perk up, he didn't know if this was interest in him or interest to wrap all this up but he continued.
"I don't even know my name. I really can't help in giving you any answers here. I looked around my ship, myself and found nothing. Well, except I was probably a decent assistant manager."
Reke furrowed her brows at that last remark. Lance didn't lie to her, in the case there was more of that horrid concoction that forced him to talk to the detective earlier. He didn't know the name of this body; if it was his body.
Lance buried those thoughts, the solitude he had in this room had sent him into a score of existential crises since his stay here started. Reke looked at him for a few more moments before taking a long sip of her coffee. Steam briefly danced around her lips as she swallowed a large gulp.
"The doctors said you should be dead." She stated flatly, there was enough warmth in her voice to stop the statement from sounding heartless but nevertheless, it bounced in Lance's head.
"Beyond the wounds you got from the Grelm, you are suffering from what we call 'Extreme Impact Disorder'. Do you know what that means?"
Lance shook his head.
Reke didn't seem surprised as she continued. "With modern inertial dampeners and safety features in most small ships, one can survive a near vertical crash onto a planetary surface but you still careened to the earth" Reke looked at Lance softly, deciding to trim her explantion. "Basically your organs experienced enough gravitational force to to fail. You should of been dead the moment you touched the surface."
Lance patted himself, feeling incredulous at the statement. "I mean I felt sore when I landed but that's to be expected when you crash."
Reke sighed. "If you were Modded in some way you could of walked out as you did, but from all looks into your genome is as baseline as a human could be. Most pilots and long-term dwellers tend to edit themselves to make their bodies more resistant to impact, you didn't. The moment you landed your brain and heart bounced around and had so much strain on them…"
Lance began to tune out the rest of her explanation. He couldn't follow all of it, and a bit with he had to deduce but it seemed that's where he replaced the previous inhabitant, the question that sat in his mind at the moment was how he body repaired itself. Reke seemed to implied he shouldn't be able to do that.
Lance looked at the woman, her lips moved but his mind bounced from thought to thought. There was something more going on with his current existence, he may not have a system or a mentor but he had something; a mystery.
Lance's mind latched onto the question of 'Why he was here?' more and more. For the first time in weeks, he had a drive beyond his own survival, he didn't even register Reke stopped speaking and was simply watching him ponder.
"Uhh Reke. Is it possible to get out of here?" Lance asked, the woman clearly expected the question her stout frame produced a well-maintained tablet. She quickly fired of a message to someone, only to respond with a shaking head.
"Sorry, you're a person of interest and no one wants you going ghost on them." Reke responded, Lance couldn't tell if the sympathy in her voice was sincere or a trained reaction from years of healthcare work.
"No, I'm fine being babysat, or guarded or whatever. I just want some fresh air ya know?"
Reke once again typed a message on her tablet. It was clear to Lance she didn't have much say in matters directing him, but that only raised more questions. Why was he so important to this group, or is this all procedure for a crash victim? The questions dug into Lance but before he could ruminate further her heard Reke Take another loud sip of her travel mug, snapping him out of it.
"Good news!" Reke exclaimed. "So long as you're fine with someone watching us I am allowed to take you out of here for a little bit. You feeling some Breakfast?"