10.4

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First draft

Not again. Dia thought, looking at the eagle insignia on her uniform.

It was like she was in a loop, forced to relive that same moment over and over again. She saw the turbolift's doors closing and heard a bloodcurdling scream resounding in the elevator. Her scream. However, there was something new this time. It seemed like a vague buzzing at first, maybe some kind of background noise, but then she recognized them.

Words.

It was the metallic voice of that killer robot, the Collective's mech. A pity it sounded like gibberish. Still, whatever the mech was saying had to wait. Her dream was over and what was waiting for her was worse than any nightmare.

Dia groaned, her head ringing like a bell. She felt sluggish, her limbs cold and aching. She fumbled around searching for her blanket, only to realize something was hindering her movements. That's when she jolted awake, her eyes wide open as she looked around, but all she could see was a blinding blue light.

Dia bit back a scream as she finally remembered what happened. However, she couldn't keep that grating anxiety under control for long, especially when she realized there was something, small like a needle or a tiny tube, plunged in her arm. She could feel it, pumping something in her veins.

When she thought they were sedating her, maybe even experimenting on her, the seed of fear planted in that horror facility grew in full bloom, turning into pure terror. Her mind, her instinct, every fiber of her being was telling her the same thing: she had to get free.

She panicked, wriggled and squirmed, but she felt incredibly weak, her attempts completely pointless when she was barely able to lift her hand.

"I see you woke up." Someone said, and the pit of her stomach fell when she recognized who it was.

Gibson. His voice sounded more garrulous than she remembered, but it was him.

"I'm sorry if the accommodation is lacking, but bear with me for a little while longer." He said, his voice oddly polite. "You are a trained soldier and who knows what kind of abilities you developed. You understand, don't you?"

Dia didn't answer. She couldn't answer. She felt a choking sensation, similar to what she had experienced on the Nostromus, only it was much worse this time. Her eyes were dilated, her mouth dry and her tongue sticking to her palate like it was glued. However, the worst part was the pain, that searing pain like an industrial press was squashing her chest. No, she couldn't answer him, she could just whimper and pray.

"She is having a panic attack!" Gibson's voice sounded urgent. "5 ml of Benzudiaxporin. Now!"

She heard a loud ding, and right after, felt a cool liquid running through the tube and then into her veins. The effect was immediate and soothing, a bit like throwing water on a fire. Dia's eyelids flickered after a while, that glowing light abating a bit.

"That seemed like a reaction to a deep trauma. The Umbra's handiwork?" He asked, but Dia was too confused to formulate a response. Gibson seemed to interpret her silence as a sign of agreement. "I always said he has no finesse." He commented, his tone a bit smug.

However, Dia couldn't care about him at the moment. Whatever thing Gibson gave her was screwing with her perception. She opened her mouth wide as she looked at the rainbow of colors coming down from the ceiling. Then she giggled when a cute pixie used the rainbow as a slide.

The feeling was similar to what she experienced during her first year at the academy, the one and only time she ever dared to go against her mother's orders and went to a party. She had intended to do something stupid for a change, but she hadn't expected someone would spike her drink with a copious amount of Onocaine. Probably the night would have ended in tragedy if it weren't for a young instructor.

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