Cold Storage

"Safe? Perfectly. Localized vaporization of metal. Not brain surgery."

He paused, moments before applying the laser saw, an expectant look on his face.

"Humor applied, awaiting dopamine release from punchline."

When nothing but horrified stares were returned to him, he gave a slight shrug.

"Will work on delivery. Rest upon the old idiom, laughter is the best medicine."

In the time it took for the doctor to explain his awful attempt at a joke, the binders were cut free. Aside from a slight stink of ozone in the air, nobody was worse for wear.

"Ah. Good."

He gestured dismissively to the small food parcel set aside for the Nehantite.

"Doctor's orders. Meal unit, extra fructose ration. I will, ahem, wait."

His head still turned away, Hal opened one eye to look down at his wrists as he felt the manacles fall away. Both paws were still there!

Hey, look! Your girlfriends are safe! his brain laughed at him.

Shut up, you! And he didn't mean that, Leftina and Rightbecca.

Rolling his wrists out, he then rubbed them with his fingers before stretching his arms. "Man, that feels so much better!" Hal grinned, then opened his lunch box.

Hospital food or not, it was food, and he hadn't eaten in over a hundred years, though his stomach was telling him it was more like having just missed lunch and dinner.

Hal didn't so much wolf down his food as he did inhale it. His sandwich was gone in a matter of only a few bites, leaving behind only the distinct impression that it was a bit dry and could have used more mayonnaise. Slices of some sort of firm vegetable crunched and disappeared between his teeth, while both his supplied fruit cocktail cups and a cup of protien pudding were horked down and licked clean all without the aid of a spoon. When at last he looked up to grab his hydration pouch to wash it all down with, he could see many sets of eyes looking at him.

"What? I haven't eaten since breakfast."

A mighty belch followed, only barely stifled by his paw. "Uh, sorry 'bout that."

Ben was a spacer, and so was used to all manner of edible substances, ranging from the delightful (buttered nerf steak with a creamy cheese sauce and lots of vegetables of all kinds), to the bland (protein bars), to the absolutely horrible, but still had caloric and nutritional value (ever tried schinkin? Think dessicated insect stuffed with aged milk and cooked).

The food handed out in Cirr's med bay - the thought that this med bay was Cirr's really threw Ben for a loop - was just above bland, in his opinion. He ate just a bit more slowly than Cirr himself did, which was to say that he gorged himself.

"All right," he said, pushing himself up to sit on one of the beds. "We're waiting for... Mister Jedi here to get patched up and then we're ready to leave, right?"

He looked around.

"Not that it's not good to see you, Cirr," Ben quickly amended, "But I've got a job to do, and work's not so easy to find these days."

The Alliance is always hiring, nerf-head. The thought went unspoken in Cirr's mind as he finished his chow. That the Nehantite had plowed through his courses faster than he did was impressive, and almost enough to endear the crazy Jedi to him. A rumbling belch of his own, and the felinoid captain dispatched his refuse in the nearest compaction bin.

"jI'm just chewjing the fat wjith you untjil doc gjives us the all clearr."

He gave Ben a look, and then the blonde-haired pixie that was his (temporarily) silent companion.

"Fjigurred you had yourr fjill of the Jedji prrotectjion rracket, though. Thrrjill of dangerr's harrd to rresjist?"

The doctor wasted little time, dispensing a small plastic lidded cup to the Nehantite.

"When the urge arises to evacuate your bladder, a sample is needed. Single unit lavatory, door to your left for privacy. Also..."

He reached forward quickly, yanking out a couple of hairs from Halajin's chest. He paused to closely inspect them, and when satisfied, inserted them into a test tube.

"Visible follicle root, live cells optimal for zero gram stain. Do you have a phobia of needles, Mister...?"

Formalities were trivial, but he had to assign the patient a name. It made processing easier.

Ben shrugged awkwardly. Cirr seemed to be a bit sharp with his tongue, for some reason. Still, the question was easy enough to answer.

"No matter where I go, the Alliance keeps sucking me back in," he said. "I do mostly salvage and courier transport stuff now, but I have to take the odd straight Alliance job now and again instead of all the indirect stuff that gives me more of an alibi when I'm boarded. This one," he gestured to Sindy, "was easy enough. I was there, she was there, and a suit said, 'take her, or you lose your ship', though in more words than that and the threat was more indirect and implied."

"Hal," Hal replied without thinking. "Halajiin Rabeak."

Rubbing his chest where the strands of fur had been so forcibly yanked out, he sneered a bit at his doctor, not wanting to even think about what the cup in his paw was for, at the moment.

"And, no, no fear of needles, unless you plan on sticking it in my eye or somewhere even less pleasant," he snarked. "But as long as I'm thinking about my eyes, I've kinda got this problem at the moment. I'm only seeing in black and white. Think that might have something to do with being frozen?"

He still wasn't entirely convinced he had actually been frozen in carbonite, but if that was the story going around, he'd stick with it at the moment. Hal also hoped that this visit would be covered under his Jedi medical insurance plan, because he didn't exactly have his wallet on him at the moment.

"You sound ljike me, Ben. Orr at least, me thrree yearrs ago. Hopefully you fjind an honest ljivjing betterr than jI djid."

He knew Ben had issues with military life, even if he recognized ultimately who the good guys were. It was just interesting to see how their origins worked in parallel.

Looking at the waifish Jedi, he extended a big paw.

"jI haven't jintrroduced myself. Cirrsseeto Raurrssatta."

He left off his rank intentionally.

"Hal..."

The doctor preferred the shortened version. Less syllables, more efficiency. Removing a pen light from his lapel, he shined it at the Nehantite's eyes, moving it from left to right.

"...follow this light. Yes, yes. Reaction time nominal, healthy retinas, no sign of necrosis or clouding of the humors."

Just as quickly as the light was out, it was gone again.

"Monochromatic vision normal. Temporarily. Atrophied sense left dormant by baseline low level metabolic processes during hybernation. Simile. Like a limb falling asleep when pressure applied to blood flow. Monochrome spectral sensitivity analogous to, ah, colloquial pins and needles as it were."

A protracted blink.

"Exposure to wide spectrum varieties likely to stimulate visual cortex's affinity for full sensitivity. First time to prescribe watching holomovies as conditional remedy. Amusing."

He seemed to pause an abnormally (for him) amount of time.

"I digress, the needle."

He glanced back at his patient, and frowned.

"Again, confounded by hirsute nature of the pa...Hal. Options present themselves. Must introduce topical antiseptic to the injection site to avoid complication. Suggest shaving."

Hal blinked his eyes, squeezing them shut, then letting them re-pressurize properly as he attempted to expedite the removal of that blue spot in his vision left over from the doctor's pen-light. Well, at least it would have been blue if he could see color, instead it was more like a bright white, with hints of grey just inside the corona.

"Sweet, movies," he chuckled, then realized he didn't have a holovision to watch them on.

He found himself momentarily distracted as Cirr introduced himself to Sindy, and Hal wanted to speak up, but before he could, one terrible, terrible word rang in his ears.

"Shaving."

A tidal wave of terrible memories flooded back into his mind, courtesy of his brain getting a little payback against the insults from his lower functions. He could see himself as he was in junior high, a lanky, skinny 13-year old, standing there in his underwear behind his class's jocks and bullies, all the while the lamentable buzz of electric clippers rang in the air. Fleas. The single most embarassing thing that can happen to anyone in school, and they had somehow infested some members of his class. But instead of just treating those students, the school put out a mandatory treatment to all students.

He could still feel the shame of having his yellow fur buzzed down to a short, slick coat, and the smell of flea powder tasted acrid in his nostrils as he recalled being blasted with the stuff. But nothing, nothing was as bad as the laughs he got from the older, bigger boys as he stepped out of the treatment booth.

"No shaving," he growled at the doctor, though he knew he might not have much of a choice. And he didn't even know where Vek Vek might be planning to stick him.

"Response anticipated, alternative suggestion available."

He narrowed his eyes.

"Needle insertion in anatomical zones both devoid of body hair and with healthy blood flow. Zones unsaid for discretion. Use imagination."

"I'd take the shaving, big boy," a voice said lowly from behind the small doctor. Vek turned, revealing a woman in a form fitting body-suit, made of what seemed to be durable materials, and boots; a much different appearance than the amphibian.

"Officer Vek," she said, nodding in greeting. "It seems crowded in here, but don't worry, I won't be long. I just need to grab some materials, and I'll be out of your way."

She turned, and picked up a datapad from the counter top. Behind her, someone began coughing loudly.

"I do hope that's not contagious," she said with a light grin.

"You sound ljike me, Ben. Orr at least, me thrree yearrs ago. Hopefully you fjind an honest ljivjing betterr than jI djid."

"I hope so, too," Ben replied, leaning back on the bed he'd claimed. He was actually waiting to be reprimanded and told to get off, but it hadn't happened yet.

Ben was at first too focussed on Cirr to pay attention to the Jedi and the doctor. With the lull in the conversation, Ben gave more attention to what was going on in front of him, past the Jedi, Cizerack, and the girl who was going to be a Jedi.

"It seems crowded in here, but don't worry, I won't be long. I just need to grab some materials, and I'll be out of your way."

The voice was eerily familiar, but it was the backside and the slight glimpse of her face that really brought it all back. Ben's eyes widened and he started coughing.

She said something, but he wasn't really paying attention. Instead, he rolled off the bed, and hit the floor with a dull thud.

His life was turning into a bad holodrama. And he wasn't even the star! He seemed to be the recurring character they brought in to help push a lagging plotline along.

Despite the pain of impacting on the not so comfortable floor, Ben remained where he was, desperately hoping to avoid interacting with a part of his past once more.

"Needle insertion in anatomical zones both devoid of body hair and with healthy blood flow. Zones unsaid for discretion. Use imagination."

The doctor's words caused Hal's face to contort a bit as he tried to think of what was meant. The only parts of his body not covered by fur were the pads on his paws and feet, and his...

The Nehantite's pink eyes went wide with realization, and he shot a glare which fired daggers at the alien doctor. "Oh. Hell. No."

He wants to put his needle in your-

I know! Hal's lower functions cut off his brain as he squirmed a bit.

Well, it's either that or shave something...

I know, I'm thinking it over.

Really? You'd actually let him-

I don't want to look like an idiot with a bald spot! What'll the ladies think?

They might be more concerned that you let some strange man pierce your junk.

Well, they wouldn't be able to tell, now would they?

I don't think you're going to get much privacy, here.

The others could leave.

What, and miss out on the show?

It was at that time that Kiera voiced her oh-so-unnecessary opinion on the matter, and Hal's ears wilted. She was right, better to lose some fur than lose dignity. But the following crash of Ben hitting the floor made Hal jump, and he looked up and asked, "Hey, you okay?"

At the rumble of Vek clearing his throat, Hal sighed and then extended his left arm. "Fine, shave, I guess. But only a really, really small spot, got it?"

Sindy smiled, having also polished off the contents of the lunchbox that they'd all similarly been given and took the large paw of the Cizerack with a small hand of her own - as best as she could, in any case.

"Siyndacha Aerin. But most people like to call me Sindy after butchering my name a few times." Her smile turned to a laughter-smile, showing a scant flash of tooth at one corner of her mouth. "Nice to meet you, um, Cirrsseeto."

She grimaced, looking sheepish in the eyes, her brow furrowed briefly and she freed her hand from his big paw. "Tch. I fumbled it, didn't I?"

"No, you got it about right!..." Lyanie announced cheerfully, as she ventured into the room, only to stop immediately in utter suprise upon the realization that she was beyond merely acquainted with everyone in the room. "...Sindy?"

The girl, who was conversing with Cirr, beamed a smile at her... well, she wasn't quite sure what their relationship was since her stuck-up, self-important sibling had divorced Sindy's cousin on account of his supposed infidelity - that was infact hers. D'Lyanettea Meresco Quez was acquainted with everyone in the area, that is, save for the doctor and the furred creature he appeared to be... shaving? She shook her head and looked to those she was familiar with.

"Heya Ben..." She grinned with the lightest hint of slyness. "...nice to see you too, Keira. Been a while, hasn't it?"

Lyanie flicked her gaze briefly to Cirr, a particular look flashing across her face that plainly indicated she was more than happy to see him, before looking quite plainly at Ben, who seemed more than content to hide on the floor.

"Lyanie!" Kiera said, smiling widely and hugging her old acquaintance. And then she looked around, her smile dimming a bit, before she blinked and looked around. A pair of boots on a pair of feet on the floor caught her attention, and she walked her way over to look at the man on the floor doing his best impression of invisibility.

"Lyanie, didn't you tell me Ben died? On Yavin? He crashed onto the moon. That's what you told me. So why is he here, hiding beside the bed?" Kiera's smile stopped being cheery and began to be a bit threatening. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the pilot try to escape by rolling under the bed, but found that there was no space underneath it to roll.

She frowned a bit, wondering what had happened to the man to change him, but instead focussed on more important things. The Captain of the Novgorod, Cirrsseeto, was busy trying to meld into the scenery while at the same time attempting to hold in laughter.

Ben was in the midst of being surrounded on all sides by insanity - namely, two Jedi, one of whom had been frozen for one hundred years, and a doctor who seemed to take it all in stride, as if this sort of thing happened every day. He now also had to deal with the fact that Lyanie was apparently on the same ship as Cirr, who was Captain of his own Alliance cruiser, where his beautiful ex-girlfriend, who apparently had believed him dead for about six years on the word of his best friend, who happened to be a female herself, just happens to show up.

His life was a bad holodrama. It had to be. This couldn't be coincidence.

What's next? An evil twin?

Ben tried to roll away once he was seen by the still beautiful Sontebren, but the hospital bed wasn't made to be completely detachable.

"Right," he muttered, his face pressed against the corner where the bed met the floor, "repulsor stretchers. Forgot about that."

He rolled onto his back and pushed himself up. This couldn't be real. He had to be dreaming. He pinched himself, and began swearing internally when it stung, but not nearly enough to really wake himself up if he was sleeping.

He pinched himself again.

"Patients..."

Vek Vek, in the midst of shaving away a medallion-sized patch of fur on Hal's upper arm, suddenly stopped and rebuked his entourage.

"...and nurse. This is an infirmary, not a social function. Not above ruthless application of sedatives to restore orderly medical procedure."

He looked back to the high-strung Nehantite, who was suddenly his least misbehaving patient.

"Apologies, Hal. Attention now undivided. Veins healthy. Cardiovascular system robust. Fructose found its mark."

He fastidiously swabbed down the bare patch of skin, and with the swiftness of a Noghri assassin, brandished a needle and slipped it into a vein without so much as an invitation for discomfort. Behind the needle, a plastic tube collected the deep crimson blood as it gently flowed.

"One more tube. Will finish soon. Test for parasites first, then more thorough testing."

Though still not at ease, Hal allowed himself a chuckle at Vek's sedative joke, and he admired the precision with which he found his arm so deftly skewered.

Watching as his blood flowed, he smirked. "Careful, now, that stuff's vintage."

Despite all he had seen he still didn't believe he'd been in cold storage for over a hundred years. That sort of thing just didn't happen, especially not to him. Maybe in a space opera, but not to him.

Hey, you coming back online, yet?

No, I think we're still in shock. Most of my lanes are still closed.

Well hurry up, then. After this doctor is done poking around in me, we'll need to look smart, so I need you.

Oh, so now you need me. Fine, fine, s long as he hasn't slipped you with something else, I'll see if I can get us back in shape.

That's all I ask.

Really? I would have thoughtw-

And I want a Fjerarriii topless speeder.

Good luck affording it. Now let me get back to work.