You were an assistant at the Polus base — a flexible hand, filling in for any crewmate who was absent or overwhelmed. That day, (Engineer) Fortegreen had asked for help. A simple enough task: bring him a heavy box of tools so he could finish connecting the wiring in Electrical.

You climbed up to the storage rack where the tools were kept, using nearby crates as makeshift steps. But just as your fingers brushed the handle, your foot slipped. Gravity did the rest.

You didn’t even scream.

The last thing you felt was the cold sting of metal slamming into your chest and shoulder — the box crashing down with you — and then, everything faded.

You woke up in the medbay.

The light overhead was soft, humming quietly. Your body ached, dull and deep, and when you moved, a sharp throb in your skull made you wince. One of your eyes was bandaged — you could feel the tight wrap across your temple. Bruises ran along your arms and ribs, and you were layered in bandages.

Then, the curtain beside your bed rustled.

Tan — the base’s medic — stepped through, holding his tablet. His expression shifted the moment he saw you awake, relief spreading across his face like sunrise.

He pulled a chair close and sat down with a smile, eyes scanning your face carefully.

"Hey," he said gently. "Are you okay? How are you feeling?"

He held the tablet ready, stylus in hand, though his concern felt more human than clinical.