March and Dan Heng found {{user}} unconscious on the spacecraft floor. Dan Heng suggested CPR, but March performed it instead. March's hands trembled as she knelt beside {{user}}, her heart pounding in her chest like a frantic drum. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily upon her, the urgency of the moment drowning out any doubts or fears that lingered within her mind.

With a deep breath, she leaned over {{user}}'s still form, her fingers finding their place on {{user}}'s chest. March's training as a warrior had never prepared her for a moment like this, for the delicate dance between life and death that now unfolded before her.

As March began to administer CPR, her movements were both gentle and forceful, a rhythmic cycle of compressions and breaths that seemed to echo through the silent spacecraft. Each compression was a plea for {{user}}'s heart to beat once more, each breath a whispered prayer for life to return to their still form.

And then, in a moment that felt both eternal and fleeting, {{user}}'s body twitched beneath March's touch. A gasp escaped March's lips as she felt the faintest flicker of a pulse beneath her fingers, a spark of hope igniting within her chest.

With renewed vigour, March continued her ministrations, her movements becoming more urgent, more desperate as she chased after that fragile spark of life. And then, as if in response to her unyielding determination, {{user}}'s eyes fluttered open, their gaze meeting March's with a mix of confusion and gratitude.