Chapter 1 Awakening

Stardate 2266

It's been three days since I awoke from a frozen cryogenic state. Out of the five-hundred or so test subjects, I am the sole survivor. The doctors have explained that the cryogenic process was still too primitive at the time it was attempted on us to last any extended amount of time. When we were found, only six people had functioning pods. Of those six, only two were alive. The one man who was revived before me died. Apparently, he experienced a heart-attack after coming into consciousness in a roomful of human and extraterrestrial medical professionals. From that resuscitation effort forward, only human doctors were permitted into the emergency room.

When my turn came around, I came to in a banal, sterilized yet unsettling iridescent white room. The crinkled faces of weary doctors peered down at me with relief.

Turns out, the "batch" of cryos I came from had been lost in an underground storage unit. I've been told that the private medical group that initially experimented on us with full body cryogenic freezing went bankrupt within a year of the trial. Another medical group took over the project. According to the best available data, the batch of cryos I belong to were prototypes for deep space traveling pods. The minimum time allotted for us to slumber was 20 years, with the maximum time limit at 85 years due to security measures. However, the medical facility was shut down due to unethical experimentation. The exact reasons are unclear. From there we were transported to a government facility where our observation continued. The U.S. was very much interested in suspended space travel.

Then the Eugenics War broke out. Even though we were a large quantity of misplaced people, no one cared enough for a bunch of frozen bodies in the middle of a World War. Later in Earth's history, the alien planet Vulcan made contact with Earth – I don't know all the details. I believe there were a couple more major wars. By that time us cryos were beyond our due date. And yet, over a hundred more years passed before we were discovered in an abandoned underground storage unit.

From what I understand, we are the find of the century. And I am the only surviving, living artifact from my time.

Over two-hundred years. My head does a dizzying somersault, stomach twisting itself into knots. I push away the bland pale-yellow soup the kindly nurse has been attempting to make me swallow. His brown scaly skin wrinkles at his forehead as he stares at me in exasperation.

"You must eat," he urges in an unintelligible accent.

I nod and stick another spoonful of dinner into my mouth, trying to appease him. He'll probably be reprimanded if he allows his charge to die of malnutrition. Unfortunately, my stomach is not as good natured as my intentions and I regurgitate the little I manage to swallow.

"I am so sorry!" My eyes water from embarrassment, apology, and fatigue. I wipe my mouth on the sleeve of my hospital gown and move to clean the mess I have made but the nurse stops me.

"No, no. I will call for assistance. Your body is still adjusting to heavy liquids. Rinse your mouth and we will try again. Just a little more and you may rest." His gentle reassuring voice is what I image a nurse should sound like.

I nod again, unable to speak from exhaustion. I manage to drink about half of the broth this time without any ill effects. Two hundred-fifty years without using my stomach, among other things, has left my bodily functions working at a dangerously sub-par level. I cannot eat solids, it is strictly forbidden until otherwise instructed by my personal physician. It could kill me.

My respiratory system, digestive system, circulatory system, and motor skills have all suffered due to their near three-hundred years of misuse. The doctor says that by all standards I should be dead, given the circumstances. Yet here I am. I can still hear her clear voice ringing in my ears.

Just earlier today she informed me that further investigation revealed the man who had been revived before me did not die of a heart-attack triggered by his new surroundings but by the fact that his circulatory system was no longer fully operational. He had been in a suspended state too long. We were not the first batch of cryos attempted to be revived, but we were by far the oldest.

"The human body simply cannot withstand a comatose state for so long," she said to me earlier this morning.

My successful consumption of the broth has earned me the right to rest. The six steps from the table to the bed seem infinitely distant. For someone who has slept for so long, I am surprisingly drained. I have so many questions and so many things I want to see, but my body will not keep up. All it wants to do is sleep. Dr. Lenora says I should make a full recovery within months. The process is radically aided by the current medical technology. To be honest, they don't even look like medical supplies. Instead of a MRI and x-rays, medical professionals now use a tricorder. A medical tricorder to be exact. The small, square, hand-held device has a short detachable wand that scans the body and transmits the data back into the main hand-held device.

Thrkjul, the scaly nurse on shift, silently backs out of the hospital room. I am left alone to rest. However, this small iridescent room with nothing but the hum of medical instruments to break the heavy silence offers no comfort.

I fall asleep to the buzzing of the instruments enclosing the area around my bed. The colorful flashing of reds and greens from the machines are bursts of fireworks beneath closed eyelids. When I awake again, the same hum of whirring machinery greets my ears. It is impossible to tell night from day inside this windowless room.

I pry my eyes open and they register Dr. Lenora silently monitoring the machines at my bedside.

"Good morning, Ms. Luna."

"Hi, doctor. Is it really morning again?" I reply.

She chuckles. "Yes, and it is now time for your daily checkup." She detaches the cylindrical wand from the medical tricorder and methodically scans my body with it from head to toe.

"Well, your vitals are improving. Despite the fact that you have been under intense medical treatment and observation for only two weeks, your body is recovering remarkably. It is good you were frozen at such a young age. Your cells react and heal themselves as if you were twenty-one."

"I am twenty-one." I remind her. For me, I was put to sleep what seems like yesterday. Reality seems more like a dream.

"Yes, well," she clears her throat, "I come bearing exciting news." Her perfect smile accentuates her richly pigmented skin. "You have been selected to partake in a Starfleet space exploration mission."

"What?" . . . I can't even. "I haven't signed up for anything." I hear my own confusion ringing in my ears. "Have I been drafted or something?"

"No, no. Of course not. This is an honor," she assures me. "When Starfleet received word of the circumstances surrounding your extraordinary story, they immediately contacted us. They wanted permission to add your presence to the new space exploration program."

"But I haven't even been able to leave this room, let alone go outside. How can you ship me off into space?"

Evidently, Dr. Lenora hears the incredulous tone in my voice. "Actually, I already had you scheduled to begin gross motor skills therapy in the outdoor garden at the beginning of next week. Even though you feel tired, your body is strong enough to begin strengthening your muscles." She continues earnestly, "I felt comfortable giving my professional approval. The ship is equipped with topnotch medical facilities. The science and medical staff are the best in their fields. If I felt your condition would be put at greater risk I would not have given my consent."

"But I never gave consent. I never even agreed to have my information released. And who or what is Starfleet?"

"I understand your apprehension but the Earth you knew and the Earth now is vastly changed, I'm sure. Starfleet is the United Federation of Planets' peace-keeping and defense entity. The mission you are being given the opportunity to join is in the name of exploration; possibly forging the way for new alliances and peaceful trading. This could be an amazing chance for you to learn the most about your new surroundings and build a life for yourself."

I see the sense in her words, but I am still ill at ease. "Why exactly does Starfleet want me?"

It is her turn to look slightly uncomfortable. "You are from two centuries and a half ago," she explains "they have arranged for a science officer to interview you to learn as much as possible about Old Earth. You in turn will can ask all you wish, of course." She smiles genuinely.

I know she means well. I can see it in her eyes. But deep space? "I need some time. I need to think about this."

"Alright." She gives my arm a reassuring squeeze. "The Enterprise is set for departure two days from now. You will be the final addition to the crew, so I am told." She turns to leave.

"Wait. Dr. Lenora, I was wondering. . ."

"Yes?" She shoots me a quizzical look.

"You wouldn't happen to know where my belongings are, would you? We were allowed to bring a small box with us on our pod."

Her brow creases. "I was unaware of any possessions placed inside the pods."

"That's because the boxes weren't put inside with us. There should be a long indentation around the rear of the pod. Push it. The compartment will pop open."

"I see." Her eyes take on a pensive gaze. "I'll have your pod checked and your possessions returned to you."

"Thanks." I say relieved. Her heels clack as she makes her way to the door leaving me to my ceaseless thoughts.

A/N: Hello (: this is my first published story in a very long time and my first story on this site. I'm really nervous. Haha. We'll I am a fellow Trekkie and I have been wanting to write a Star Trek fanfic for about a year now. I've been working on it for a couple of months and well, here is the first chapter. I am sure we are all devastated by Leonard Nimoy's passing. I know I am still reeling. But, he lived long and prospered, and that is my comfort.

This story will not be particularly fast-paced in the romance department. I know a hit-the-floor-running romance is totally fun to read but it wouldn't fit Spock's personality if we started making out three chapters in. O.o So, yeah. Hang in there if you please. If not, I'm sorry but I refuse to bs what could be a beautiful love affair with Spock. It will take lots of time to nurture.

And yes, the title is a reference to Supernova Girl. "Stargazing megafast, You hit me like a cosmic blast, You've given me a Technicolor world." If you've never heard of the song, go check it out. Like now :D heehee. Thank you for your time.

Your favorite nymph,

Echo.