Multiversal Reverie

With a sudden lurch, a figure was hurled to the ground from a sparkling rift suspended in mid-air, a woosh accompanying her descent. She connected with the cold steel floor of the laboratory, the impact forcing the air from her lungs in a sickening gasp. She rolled over, her hands scrambling around the neck of her space suit, frantically trying to unlatch the seal as she fought for breath.

"The temple is always testing you," came a muffled and unhelpful statement from her companion. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the Emissary looking down at her through the tinted visor of his spacesuit, a Varun pistol in his hands. She finally freed herself from the constellation helmet, allowing it to bounce across the floor with a deafening clatter that shattered the temporary silence.

The Emissary followed it with his gaze, surely noticing the blood splattered on the inside of the helmet from her coughing fits. His fingers twitched with worry on the grip of his pistol for a moment before he finally holstered it.

"I can't," Dusty mumbled weakly, her hand fumbling in one of her pockets in search of medication. Immobilisers and infused bandages, perhaps?

She'd already endured a harrowing journey to arrive here—long before setting foot on this accursed planet and infiltrating the Ecliptic base concealed above the ancient temple's depths. Her descent into hell began the moment The Hunter unleashed his violence upon their doorstep at The Lodge and The Eye—the moment she lost him.

Suddenly, gloved hands brushed against hers, swiftly extracting medication and first aid supplies from her pockets, meticulously unwrapping packages and preparing them for use. The Emissary worked in silence, uncapping an anchored immobiliser and offering it to her lips. She inhaled the medication, sensation returning to her left leg, which had likely suffered a fracture.

"Sit up," he instructed, gently guiding her towards the hallway's wall for support. Dusty glanced down, her vision blurred by fatigue, noticing the streak of blood trailing her. Her suit had undoubtedly sustained significant damage, possibly beyond repair.

"This must be..." she coughed, "...one of those universes where I don't make it."

The Emissary remained silent, methodically disassembling the different components of her suit, discarding the sleeves before finally unzipping the chest piece and pulling it down. He hesitated, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her jacket beneath—the familiar Freestar Ranger uniform, stained with blood. His finger grazed over the ranger badge, which bore a few dents and scuffs that he recognized.

"You've likely encountered me in similar circumstances before, in another version of this universe," Dusty mused, her voice tinged with resignation.

He lifted his head, locking his gaze onto her for a prolonged moment. Dusty's tired eyes met his, though all she saw was her own exhausted reflection in his helmet.

"Usually, you don't make it this far," he remarked.

"To this room?" she inquired.

"To this planet."

Silence hung between them.

"Sam," she uttered, her voice softening.

His shoulders stiffened, and he momentarily froze, a bandage held in his hand.

"Sam, please."

"I'm not the Sam you once knew," he admitted.

With a subtle shake of his head, he resumed his task, carefully wrapping an infused bandage around a bullet wound on her calf. Her brow furrowed beneath the sheen of sweat as she continued to struggle for breath.

"I don't care."

Her Sam had died, tragically. Aboard The Eye, he had been murdered by The Hunter, in front of his own daughter, just three weeks after their commitment ceremony. Dusty had carried the weight of that loss ever since, propelled forward through time by her seething anger towards The Hunter and the relentless cruelty of the universe.