Epigone Nutom had little to do on the night shift of the Bequeathed now that it had left planet Rally the day before. An entire planet of the Broken. She shook her head as she looked to the door at the sound of a chime.

"Medical, prepare to receive an injured found by crew down in engineering," a voice called in from Operation on the bridge of the ship.

"Of course, Operations. Do we know what the injury is?" the medical technician asked.

"Unknown, but not critical. Likely some bumps and bruises. The Broken are not the sturdiest species of the Compact," the Tribune on the other side of the com said.

Ten minutes later they pulled in a small Broken wearing the strangest of garments and hair that looked to be of faded gold. Nutom tilted her head as she studied the girl with both sets of her eyes in the dim light that Tribunes preferred. "Name, rank and what happened to him?"

"He was not from our section, so we don't know that," the nameless Discipline of the Tribune race said. "Along with that, all we could discern is that he is 'roughed up' as the human's say." He looked over at the two young humans that followed him in.

"Epigone, I think it is a girl," the woman of darker skin color said. "The clothes look of a simple style that seems archaic."

The smart systems in the bed started to scan the figure as Nutom looked over the dense information graphs. "Hmm. You are correct, she is female." She tapped four glyphs to have the robotic arms divest her of the crude clothes of various shades of blue color. It shifted to a heavier cutter when it discovered a layer of light reinforcement. The primitive amulet of silver and gold ring went into a receptacle and a small waist pouch of incredibly primitive medical devices. "Other than bruises and some fading radiation, she seems perfectly healthy. Identify patient."

Unknown.

Nutom blinked all four eyes at that. "Access records from Rally." She narrowed her lower eyes in thought. Some sort of Unbound rebel? "Inform security that we have an unknown Broken in medical."

Blue-green eyes awoke to a dim room filled with tan or brown things that they did not understand. A giant entered the room, a being of gray skin and four black-as-void eyes wearing a teal military uniform of unknown, alien make. And it spoke to her in a demanding tone.

"What is your name? Rebel Broken, I can make you beg for mercy that will never come," Group Leader, Submissive Ashtun told her in a loud tone of order.

The young Broken replied in a nonsense set of words. Then a second, different set. Her eyes looked around in alarm.

The second in command of Bequeathed looked over to the attending Faithful Dish'am of the Thoughtful race. "What is wrong with her?"

"I do not believe she understands you, which should be impossible," the head medical technician of the Bequeathed said as its mind searched for possible answers. "But the confusion in its expression is matched by the lack of understanding in her neural net. Possibly trauma induced."

"Fix it and make it talk, Faithful," Ashtun ordered as he walked out the hatch.

Dish'am sighed at that, even as he ignored the girl asking him questions in a different and yet unknown manner of gibberish. "People are not machines, Group Leader, Submissive."

"Machines?" the girl aped the word carefully as an entire language filled her mind.

"Yes, you Broken are not still machines, even if you are not as advanced as other species." He turned to look at her as she studied him. "So how much have you forgotten?" he mused.

She responded to him in perfectly intonated Compact Common that the Thoughtful used. "Why am I called Broken? Human is more accurate." The girl looked over at a human orderly typing away at a panel twenty feet away in a different party of the medical area.

"So you've remembered how to speak a real language. Your name?"

"Sheila Henderson."

Faithful Dish'am nodded at the very human name. "I'd assume you are from Northwall?"

"Chicago, Illinois actually," she said with a smile and dimples.

"And where on Rally is that?" he demanded.

"Where and what is Rally?" She honestly looked quite confused.

"Rally is your planet. Obviously there is still some mental trauma and repressed memories." Dish'am pulled up her data again and started to run various comparisons. "Odd. Your immune system is out of balance and I don't see any immunization treatment traces. How did you get into the navy without those?"

"I don't remember joining any navy." Much less a space one.

"I shall have a confessor discuss matters of your mental health and assess your stability score."

Odd (to the alien) blue-green eyes narrowed in puzzlement. "I guess that makes sense."