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 There hadn’t been much time to sight-see when they told Jameson he was to be brought onto the [i]Vitae[/i]. They didn’t trust him to be outside of a cell, let alone on a multi-billion dollar ship built to contain and preserve an entire species. Returning to the doctor’s mind were images of the contorted faces of institutionalized men, peering from the opposite side of thick iron bars, clad in rust and chipping dark green paint. The entrance doors to the prison were open for hardly seconds before the guards handling Jameson’s shoved him in the back of a transportation vehicle. For the fleeting minutes that the sun touched his skin and eyes, it felt amazing. The sweet embrace of the sun’s heat and light was sadly fleeting, as the drive to the Air and Space Station was short lived. A few more seconds of the solar embrace greeted the doctor before he was rushed inside by a duo of people in armor, with rifles he hadn’t see before.

The trio of surgeon and guards walked past a gauntlet of various different people, all garbed in different outfits, from business suits, to lab coats, to military jumpsuits. People soon become blurs, white lights in the building turned into light blue fluorescents as the trio entered a large hallway leading to a loading area full of spacecraft Jameson could see from the windows. Humans of all different walks of life were all journeying down the loading hall, child and suitcases in arms. Families stuck together like clumped sugar, trying their damnedest to stay as close to each other as possible. A chatter that resembled white noise filled the hall, children crying, their parents trying in vain to comfort them, arguments between families, but one thing was common: They all marched forward with no hesitation or forethought. 

These people weren’t prisoners. They were normal people, people with lives, jobs, clean jail records. They weren’t people of Jameson’s ilk. No. These were proud humans, and they all must have had some sort of special traits or qualities making them worthy of salvation upon the Ark. Except, he didn’t see any other criminals in jumpsuits like his.

So caught up in his thoughts, Jameson hadn’t noticed that he and his new friends had begun to worm their way through the crowd of people, squeezing through gaps and taking large strides whenever there was a space large enough to allow them. A rather out of shape Jameon got winded quickly, but the guards were intent on getting through the crowd, regardless if their surgeon friend could keep up or not.

Jameson’s eyes began to meet some of those of the crowd as his armed escort began to draw more and more attention. Some of the eyes widened immediately, with faces painted entirely in horror. Jameson could see a few groups of people gesture and point towards him as he passed, a mixture of fear, confusion, and disgust plastered across all their faces. He could hear a few voices cut through the crowd.

“Why does that murderer get to come on!?” Demanded one man,

A women elsewhere cried “I don’t want to get on any ship that he’s on!”

Comments similar to those could be heard echoing throughout the halls. Jameson’s eyes and gaze dropped, and he kept his face pointed downwards, as to avoid making eye contact with anyone else. Even without looking, Jameson could feel the angry, scornful scowls of the crowd before him as he walked. He could feel his own heart begin to beat, and his face warmed up. The animal was being paraded through the zoo to his next cage, except no one wanted to be near that exhibit. The painful scrutiny placed on Jameson burned his skin and weakened his joints.

Bare metal took back over Jameson’s vision, although blurred. He slowly slid his headset off, wiping his eyes and sniffing. Even in his last moments on Earth, Jameson was filled with hate and ire for everyone around him. He wasn’t allowed to enjoy the soft grass fields of his childhood, the bustling and invigorating city life of his adulthood. It had been at least three years since he had last been allowed to even enter an operating room. They hadn’t just taken his freedom and profession away, they took away his humanity. The thought of one day leaving prison had never been on his mind, he knew they had locked him away for good, but now, now there no chance of him even getting to walk on the rec field again. There would never be any sort of grass under his feet or blue sky above his head. Even in his time outside his cell, he’d be stuck in a massive metal cage, filled with people who treated him like less than themselves. A second-class citizen. An animal.

Something seized his arms, and he nearly threw his headset against the wall, but he paused. Something had broken his trance. Sitting up, Jameson wiped further tears from his eyes, allowing reality to take back its place in his mind. An alarm had been sounding, and he could hear footsteps, both soft and heavy, outside of his room. He slid off his bed, onto his feet, putting his glasses on, before going up to his door, his face level with the large viewing port. Civilians and Guards alike both stampeded in every direction, the shouted dialogue of them all being dulled over by the continuous siren radiating from the speakers around them. The male guard was standing near the center of the large hall, attempting in vain to get someone to explain what was going on, while Amanda still stood near the door, listening to various chatter on her radio.

“What’s happening?” Jameson said low.

Amanda didn’t react. She hadn’t heard him, and, to think of it, he hadn’t even heard himself. The noise from the hallway and the wailing siren were too loud for him to be heard. Luckily for Jameson, Amanda’s gaze shifted to the door for a second, and she was taken aback to see Jameson’s place face sticking in the view port. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow, sniffing from his still runny nose.

“Your guess is as good as mine!” Amanda said forcefully, as to be heard over all the noise, but not quite shouting. “The radio is going fucking crazy right now, I can’t make out anything!”

The male guard returned to the pair at the door, and spoke loudly so they both could hear.

“According to some of the engineers, a Devastator ship just popped up out of slipspace, and it's a big fuckin’ ship at that. They say the bridge is already shitti-” He was hushed by Amanda, whose gaze was pointed towards the ground as she listened intently to something on the radio. Her eyes darted for a few seconds, before she looked back up at the two men.

“They’re saying that all non-essentials need to get to the safe zones, and security needs to start moving the civilians to the safe zones as well. They say that the engineering and medical crews need to be on alert.” With the end of her last sentence, her gaze turned to Jameson, whose face was curtained with worriedness and uncertainty. The male security piped up.

“Does that mean we need to start helping these guys into the Archives? It’s the closest safe zone to us.”

“I don’t know, but what are we going to do about you?” Amanda said, looking at Jameson. Being addressed directly surprised him, and gave him a twinge of delight, even considering the situation they were in. 

His surprised was doubled when he was thrown off his feet, landing against the wall of his cell, slamming into his shoulder, whipping his head back for a secondary hit. As he fell, he could hear the screams and yelps of the crowds outside, all being knocked over by the rocking of the ship. Curses and exclamations could be heard as some questioned the quake, and others sprang back to their feet, eager to make it to the safe zones. Jameson sat stunned for a few moments, gripping his throbbing head. There was no bleeding, just a solid thump to the cranium. His door flew open, and Amanda stepped in, weapon in one hand, the other gripping the door frame. 

“Are you okay!?” She said, stepping all the way in, helping him up, all to the delightful surprise of the dizzy doctor. Once he was on his feet, the two moved towards the door, Jameson being nearly dragged by Amanda. They reached the door, and they could see the male guard helping some confused and dazed people on the floor, making sure they weren’t trampled, and moving some that were too flustered to walk away from the center of the hallway, against the walls. He turned back around to his partner, a look of surprise exploding on his face.

“Amanda, what the hell are you doing?! Put him back in his cell, we have shit to worry about here!” He said, pointing forcefully at Jameson, then motioning to the people on the floor around him.

“Look, Joseph, they want all non-essentials to the safe zones, and he’s just as human as we are, he doesn’t deserve to die in his cell! We’re going to the Archives, they were going to let him go there anyways, so we’re taking him, too!” Amanda commanded, her grip on Jameson’s arm tightening.

The guard named Joseph stood amongst the chaos for a moment, his stare never leaving the pair. He stepped forward, weaving through people, and grabbed Jameson’s wrists. “Fine, then. We’ll take him, but-” Joseph reached behind his back, and brought forward cuffs, securing the doctor’s thin wrists in them. “He’s staying cuffed the whole time. Got it?” He said, looking at Jameson, who returned only with an impatient, anxious expression.

Joseph returned to the center of the hallway, and began shouting to all the rushing people. “[b]Everyone needs to get the safe zones on the ship. The closest one to us the Archives, just down the hallways. I need you all to start moving orderly in that direction![/b]”

The people around him took note of his speech, and started scurrying towards the Archives as instructed. Of all the people passing by, Jameson could feel a glance or two come out of the crowd and hit him, as he stood cuffed, an arm being gripped by the guard, Amanda. As the crowds moved, Joseph motioned for the pair to follow him, as he returned his rifle to his hands, and walked in front of Amanda and Jameson, making sure there was a clear path to the Archives.The experience brought back images the trip the same trio took in the Air and Space Station a few days ago, but it was different now. Now, more was at stake. There were less stares and looks thrown at Jameson, as everyone was concerned with saving their own lives.

Jameson gulped as he save the Archive signs come into view over him. He couldn’t see over much of the crowd, but he knew the archives were drawing close. The thought of being herded in a room with hundreds, perhaps thousands of people, all waiting and praying that they live… it made Jameson nauseated. 

[i]Now’s a better time than ever to meet whoever it is that I’m living or dying with, I guess.[/i]