“Where am I?” North asks, looking back toward the tube as he tries to catch his breath. That, looking back, was definitely not a cryotube like he would recognize from home. Worse... why would he be in...

pain, he remembers pain
pain and futility
the end of a long, alien blade in his chest
a friend at the other end

Cryotubes were for more than slipspace travel. They were also for holding mortally injured or effectively dead people. A transportation to medical facilities. Which could only mean...

Panic again, a different taste of it despite Theta trying to soothe him. Like North cares right now. He told himself that it could wait and lifted the shirt he wore. No reason to get into the scrubs right now, or to question where his armor was. That would be a given. First he had to make...

When e looks down at his bare chest it is there. An ugly scar cut directly over his heart, a ragged line that told the tale of his death.

“What the fuck is going on?”

North! Language.