DUMPING THIS HERE UNTIL I HAVE SOMEPLACE TO PUT IT
"Tell me, Leonard. What would you say is the thing most important to you?"
Church's jaw felt like it was hardwired into a brace. Making it open and shut was an exercise all on its own, and the light was too bright even though his visor compensated for the glare. He was on a table. Why was he on a table? Did he get wounded?
If he got wounded for this Goddamn joke of a war he'd better get an honorable discharge with one hell of a severance package. Did they offer severance packages in the military? They should. For him.
"Leonard? Are you with us, son?" The southern drawl coming from somewhere above Church didn't sound the least bit concerned.
"What the hell happened to me?" His voice croaked out like he hadn't spoken in years, but oddly enough he didn't feel thirsty. Just...lethargic. Unused. Weird.
"Did you hear me?"
Church attempted to move his hands, clench them into fists. He couldn't be sure -everything felt numb but he was slowly coming out of it- but he thought he felt his gloves squeak across the table as his fingers drew into his palms. He was still in full armor. Why the hell was he still in full armor if he was in a med bay for what was probably the most grievous injury he'd ever suffered in his life? These dipshits didn't know what the hell they were doing, they might as well put the Goddamn scalpel in his hand and let him operate on himself.
"Private Church, did you hear my question?"
Annoyance and irritation lanced through Church's concentration and he jerked his head toward the voice as best he could. "Are you fucking serious right now? Really, completely serious? You wanna have a philosophical discussion while I'm laying on a Goddamn operating table? How about- Here, how about this: tell me what the fuck is wrong with me. That's pretty Goddamn important to me right now."
"I see you're trying to move around, son. That's good."
A second voice spoke up, much quieter, almost a whisper that Church barely caught. "Sir, it seems it's taking to the body very well. Synchronization rate is eighty-nine point eight percent and steadily rising."
"I see that." Papers flipped gently somewhere to his right. "Make sure the dummy BIO signal being projected is synched up with the realtime events processor. There shouldn't be anybody out there with equipment advanced enough to tell but I don't want to be taking any chances."
"Yes sir." Footsteps retreated.
Church squinted up at the lights again before giving up and closing his eyes. He wasn't going to be able to see anything. Why did he feel so heavy? "Hello, I can hear you! Mind telling the patient what the fuck is wrong with him, or is that something you have to clear with my superior before I get to hear it?" Church wouldn't even be surprised if that were the case. The security procedures in the military were ridiculous.
"Leonoard, you'll be just fine. I need you to listen to me, son-"
"Not your son," Church interrupted; he didn't feel exactly charitable at the moment. He tapped his fingertips against the table and felt the vibrations along his body. Good. "Where the fuck am I?"
The voice sounded mildly amused, which stretched the twang so far the words practically crawled out of their speaker's mouth. "Blue command, son. You didn't respond too well to your new armor upgrade; locked down on you. Took us a good ten minutes to get you back out, don't you remember? We had to revive you."
"Oh yeah, I always remember the shit that happens after I pass out." He didn't remember being fitted for new armor, but if he'd asphyxiated it wasn't really much of a surprise. Short-term memory loss wasn't all that uncommon. ...shit, he was taking this 'you nearly died' thing pretty well. Nerves of steel and ice water blood hell yeah, that's Leonard L. Church.
"I'd like it if you answered my question, Private. What's the most important thing to you?"
Apparently Colonel Sanders really was serious about that philosophical discussion after all. Church heaved a long-suffering sigh before snapping out, "Not a Goddamn thing." He thought about Tex and quickly made himself stop thinking about her. "Got nothing important to me."
"So you would say you're apathetic?"
"Usually what 'got nothing important to me' means, right?" Church wondered vaguely if he was speaking with a CO and realized shortly thereafter that he really didn't care if he was. According to this chucklefuck he'd almost died moments ago so he figured he probably had free reign to be a dick at least until he completely came out of whatever haze he was currently in. "There a point to this? Am I being psycho-analyzed without knowing about it, 'cause I was kind of hoping I'd at least get to lay on one of those couches or something more comfortable than whatever you've got me on." It felt like metal but it was hard to tell through the armor.
The quieter voice returned, sans the footsteps. "Memory fabrication is also taking well, sir."
"I noticed."
"Sir, the Alpha seems to be having some trouble with the emotional buffers in place."
There was a notable pause, and the drawl assumed a low, deep tone that Church not only found familiar, but identified. It was the voice of someone, against all odds, finally getting his way. How had he-
"That's the idea. Put Alpha under and clear its memory banks of the last ten minutes. I don't want it remembering a single word I've said."
"Alpha?" Church felt a pang of...something. It was so hard to tell. Why could he read some stranger's voice but couldn't even tell what he was feeling? "Are you talking about-"
"No, son. We weren't talking at all."
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