Junebug was aware of time passing but it was a disjointed thing, seeming to come and go in fits and starts. Occasionally she had flashes of coherent images. The top of the autodoc, the interior of the highlander, even the vista of deep space, although that must have been before she actually blacked out.

“Well Candidate Cyckali,” came the calm cultured voice of the evaluator. The tone of vauge dissaproval was institutional and for a moment she had the taste of old protein pack in the back of her throat.

“You have elected to blow 100 percent of your mission personnel out of an airlock, a bold choice. Have you considered issuing side arms and simply shooting yourself?” Perspective skewed drunkenly in her mind. The grading officer remained the the background picking apart choices and plans which her pain addled mind was only half conscious of making. For a moment she thought she saw a brief flash of sky before she was carried into a building with bright overhead lights. The intermittent lights flickered in her mind like a hundred night action and her body quivered with the reflex for action. Men were standing above her talking? Shouting? And then a mask descended over her face and cool darkness took her.

Wakefulness came back in a rush. There was light and an alarmed beeping of machines. Something hot flowed into her arm and she went back under again. Consciousness came back slowly the second time, she could almost feel the increments as the analgesic was dialed down. It was a familiar technique, neural disconnection rather than narcotics, expensive stuff.  A woman in a face mask looked down at her in concern. It occurred to Sayeeda that the womans lips had been moving but she had to focus to make out the words ‘are you alright Ms Cyckali’.

“Junebug,” she mumbled and tried to push herself up. The medic layed a hand on her chest that might have been made of iron.

“Steady there, lets make sure you arent going to crash again before we get to excited.”

“Where is my pilot?” she asked, sinking back to the bed with some relief.

“He is speaking with the Cho-Lan he should be back soon,” the medic said before turning to work on something beyond Sayeeda’s line of sight.

“Highlander Six to all Highlander elements,” Sayeeda said in a voice so low she felt the subvocalize module in her mastoid click in. If Neil were in comm range, a couple of miles without a booster he would pick up.

“Important to make secure contact with negative exposure to Indgies, reply when you have expectation of comm security.”

This was going to be a real mess but there was nothing to be done about it until she could convey her suspicions to Neil.

[@POOHEAD189]