She was running. An intense feeling of joy filled her heart. Her bare feet touched the wet earth as she inhaled the fragrance of a thousand lavenders.

  She stopped in the middle of the field, an ecstatic smile on her lips.

  Her head raised, eyes shut, she started to spin around, her soul drinking in the perfume of the lavenders. A strange wind passed through the blooms, bending the stalks as if something unseen moved among them. The air shimmered, a faint crimson hue bleeding into the blue sky, like the glow of the setting sun.

  The lavenders rustled, their scent shifting—sharper now, tinged with something alien, something sweet. Strange alien flowers started to bloom amongst the lavenders, their petals glowing violet.

  A voice whispered her name—“Cassie”—but it wasn’t her mother’s. She realized it wasn't even human, its tone sending a chill down her spine.

  She felt something akin to tendrils brushing against her skin.

  Cassie awoke in cold watery darkness, her dream still lingered at the borders of her consciousness. She was submerged, her limbs sluggish in a fluid thicker than water. Instinctively, she reached out, her palms meeting an unyielding barrier. Panic flared.

  Where am I?

  Her chest tightened, the cryopod’s fluid pressing against her like a suffocating embrace. Her mind raced, clawing for memories to anchor her. Proxima Centauri B—she’d signed up for the agricultural effort at the newly established colony. The corporations and governments that controlled the media were trying their best to hide it. However, it was becoming obvious that Earth was being abandoned, a single transport trip at a time.

  She’d been just a child when the first major riots had started: the burning, the seemingly endless shouts and screams. She'd buried herself in her drawings; the green and purple crayons had always been the first to run out. She could still remember it: A stick figure of a girl with red pigtails, standing in a purple-flower dotted green field under a shining yellow sun. She'd stared at the picture, wanting so much to be that girl, and she'd felt being drowned in her helplessness as the light from fires from the street below danced on the ceiling of her small room. Her mother had found her that night, curled on the floor with the drawing clutched to her chest. Her mother had pulled her close, shielding her from the chaos, but Cassie had felt the fear in her grip. “Promise me you’ll keep dreaming,” her mother had said, her voice breaking. “No matter what.”

  Now, waking in this alien darkness, she felt that same helplessness. What if the Clarke had failed? What if she was the last one left, floating in a tomb light years from home? Her fingers trembled against the mask, the steady flow of air her only lifeline. Her hand flew to her face, finding a mask pressed tightly over her nose and mouth. Air flowed steadily through it, cool and reassuring. Her mind swam. Memories surfaced like driftwood in a storm. Proxima Centauri b. The Clarke. Cryosleep. But… something was wrong.

  This... wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Not like this. The Clarke’s hum—a low, steady vibration she’d felt in her bones during boarding—was gone, replaced by an eerie silence that pressed against her ears. The cryopod’s walls were smooth, cold as ice, but the fluid around her was warmer, its viscosity clinging to her skin like a second layer. A faint glow emanated from the control panel at the chamber’s edge, its blue light flickering erratically, casting ghostly shadows in the liquid.

  Cassie thumped her fists against the chamber walls, a dull thud echoing in the liquid around her. She had been briefed—trained—on the waking process. She was supposed to awaken under careful supervision, in a medical bay surrounded by her team. But this... this wasn’t right.

  Fear prickled at the edges of her thoughts. What had gone wrong?

  Her chest tightened against the confines of the cryopod, and she gasped, pulling at the mask. She scanned the faintly illuminated control panel again, willing it to give her answers. She stilled, the liquid pressing in around her like a weight, waiting for something—anything—to happen.

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  But there was only silence.

  Suddenly, she sensed a dull thump through her fingers. A small opening had appeared on the cryopod wall at her chest level. She felt a sudden suction at multiple locations beneath her as the fluid started to drain. A primal instinct led her to grasp at the only apparent and familiar life-giving mechanism. Her hands clamped over the breathing apparatus on her nose and mouth.

  And then she heard the voices.

  "I think it worked. It’s draining," a man said, his voice muffled but sharp, tinged with a Mid-West accent.

  "Man, this stuff is nasty!" another voice—female—replied.

  "You think she’s alive in there?" the man asked, his words laced with doubt.

  "We’re about to find out," the female voice said, steady now, taking charge. “Okay, on three. One… two… three!”

  The sudden light was blinding. Even through closed eyes, the aftereffect of the fluorescent light's glare pained her senses. She felt a hand on hers, gently trying to loosen her grip on the breathing apparatus. A disoriented surge of panic gripped her as she tightened her grip even further.

  “C’mon, kid, you’re okay. Let it go. We’re tryna help ya,” the female voice said, soothing, reassuring, with a warmth that cut through Cassie’s fear. Her grip loosened, the unfamiliar smell of the new air filling her lungs as she smelled antiseptic and metal, the sterile scent of a med bay.

  Her eyes fluttered open, catching a glimpse of a woman with dark skin and a kind smile, her uniform smeared with grime. "I’m Tesh," the woman said, her voice a lifeline. “You’re on the Clarke. We crashed, but you’re safe now."

  Cassie’s vision blurred, her body heavy, and her eyes closed. “You’re fine now. Just breathe,” Tesh’s voice echoed as if from a great distance.

  She found herself once again in lavender fields, but the flowers were strange now, glowing, their violet light pulsing like a heartbeat.

  Darkness.

  Her eyes snapped open, the dream fading as reality crashed in. She was no longer in the cryopod.

  She was lying on a med bay cot, a sheet covered her up to her chest. She noted, with some anxiety, that she was naked under the sheet. The fluorescent lights above flickered erratically, casting harsh shadows on the walls. The air was cold, tinged with that same ozone scent. She felt creaking sounds as if the ship's hull was groaning under some unseen strain. A woman sat beside her, checking a handheld scanner, her frizzy dark hair pulled back in a messy bun, her uniform stained with what looked like hydraulic fluid.

  "Welcome back, kid. I'm Tesh,” she said warmly in an obvious Brooklyn accent despite her exhausted look. "You gave us a scare there." She shrugged gently, her smile warm. "But hey, credit to us. We'd never awakened anyone from cryosleep before."

  Cassie tried to sit up, her limbs heavy, her mind still foggy.

  "Where… where are we?” she croaked, her throat dry, voice hoarse and unfamiliar. Had it always sounded like that? She frowned, trying to clear the fog in her mind. She realized it must have been a while since her vocal cords had been used.

  Tesh placed a gentle hand on Cassie's shoulder, easing her back down. "We’re on the Clarke, like I said. But we didn’t make it to Proxima. We crashed—somewhere else. We’re still figuring it out." She paused, her expression tightening. "Not gonna lie, honey. It's a miracle we're all still alive."

  Tesh’s smile didn’t reach her eyes, her hands trembling slightly as she adjusted the scanner, as if she were holding her own fears at bay. "We lost a lot of cargo and cryopods in the crash," she added softly, "I just hope we can save the rest."

  Cassie’s heart raced, the weight of Tesh’s words sinking in. Crashed. Somewhere else. Her team—her friends—were they still in cryosleep? Were they even alive? She forced herself to focus, clinging to the memory of her mother’s promise. “Keep dreaming,” she’d said.

  Cassie's eyes wandered across the compartment, taking in the transparent panels filled with medical equipment and rows of drug containers. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, cool and sterile against her skin.

  "Okay. We gotta do this. Cryopod reawakening protocols." Tesh said, studying the pad in her hands for a moment. "Could you tell me your name, sweetie?"

  "Cassie." The sound of her own name seemed to reawaken a memory from a dream. She tried to grasp at it, just out of reach of her senses.

  "Cassie Arden." She said, realizing with some regret that the memory had faded.

  "Awesome!" Tesh exclaimed, her tone warm but with a hint of mischief. "Now, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your birthday. I knew a guy who couldn’t remember his own name for a solid minute." She returned her gaze to the pad, her fingers brushing a strand of hair from Cassie’s face.

  Her birthday... what was her birthday? The numbers swam in her thoughts, just out of reach.

  “December 14, 2093,” Cassie replied, the date a lifeline to her past, a reminder of who she was.

  Tesh's smile widened, a flicker of relief in her eyes. "See? we gonna be good!" She laughed, patting Cassie's hand in playful reassurance.

  She placed the pad on a shelf, and looked at Cassie, a bit more serious now. "I'm no expert but looks like your memory’s intact, sweetie. That’s a good sign. Now, let’s get you cleaned up—you smell like cryofluid, and not the good kind.” She stood, offering a hand.

  "You gonna be okay, honey." she said, hand still outstretched. "Up and at 'em, soldier."