Leon roared in agony as the smell of burnt chlorine filled the small dank room, the electrical system for his chair restraint powering down. "I'll ask once more; where are you from, and why have you come to Rygaard?" The uniformed officer droned on for what could have been the hundredth time. "I am Leon Hakim, warrant officer in the Interstell--" he began before being cut off again "And I keep telling you" the officer spoke, before then switching on the chair again, producing the same sickening scent and sounds "I do not believe you are a time traveler." The officer sighed, "You two" he spoke to the guards behind him without turning around, "Soften up our guest here, until he's ready to talk". Wordlessly, they began to beat the restrained man. The world once again begins to fade in and out, with fog and muted colors, and sounds becoming distant in his mind. Leon thinks he hears a woman talking about trauma, but he couldn't be sure.
The dark once again takes him, but he recalls the feeling of concrete against his now tattered cryo-suit, as they had not the decency to swap out his destroyed attire. He then felt himself being tossed, and the familiar sensation of the ground rising up to meet him.
What could have been another century passes, his eyes opened slowly as blurry dim blue light began to creep-crawl into his skull. Ambitiously, he felt as if he could sit up, before his body reminded him of its supreme displeasure. As for what he could see from his prone position was a large singular cell, filled with the infirm; people in filthy bandages and shoddy splints, with some laying up against the metallic mesh walls, but most strewn across the sodden, stony floor like human debris. A large sign above the door, made of a milky opaque material, read "CONVALESENCE" in large block letters.
"Where're you from, space man?" A phlegmy voice called out. Leon achingly turned his head, before setting his look upon a tired-looking older woman garbed in clearly was a prison uniform in atrocious condition; both of her legs in splints. "I tried to tell them, but apparently, I am a liar" Leon said with the cadence of a punchline, lacking a preceding joke. "Yeah" she replayed non-chalantly, "They do that."
"No talking!" barked a voice somewhere from beyond the cell. A silence settled in, save the sounds of dripping water and human misery. "Can I ask a weird question?" Leon asked in a loud whisper. "Shoot" the woman quickly responded. "Where the fuck am I?", the exhaustion filled his voice. "... generally or specifically?" the woman replied with a slight amount of confusion. "Either".
"This place? It's the RCA North Camp; where they send people to be forgotten about. Beyond that? Rygaard-- a frozen world on the edge of nowhere, ran by corporate jack-offs who only understand force, and numbers." she rattled off seemingly breathlessly. A moment passed, then several. "Huh" Leon finally said, "Thanks".
"Alright, my turn-- who are you, and where are you from?" the woman asked with some force. "I am" Leon began, "Leon Hakim, and I am a warrant officer in the Interstellar Union Navy." "Oh, kid" she said with some pity, "The ISU collapsed over four-hundred years ago".
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