<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)">Pain...nausea... sounds that were unintelligible. Oh gods, she felt as though her insides were dissolving, coagulating, ripping apart, fusing together...she needed to...needed to, there was something she needed to do... important....<i>nowwwwwwww</i>...breathe.... yes, that was it. <i><b>BREATHE</b></i>. She took in a deep, howling breath. <br/>
<br/>
....and another. <br/>
<br/>
She couldn’t see right, things were wobbly, moving <br/>
<br/>
....breathe<br/>
<br/>
She steadied herself on. Something. A wall. A bulkhead. Alright, words....she remembered words....<br/>
<br/>
“<b>Don’t Move</b>.”<br/>
<br/>
What did that mean? She slowly placed her feet forward, one hesitant, unsteady step at a time. <br/>
<br/>
...breathe....<br/>
<br/>
She felt cold and ...what was stat feeling...wet...<br/>
<br/>
....breathe. <br/>
<br/>
“<i>Don’t Move.</i>”<br/>
<br/>
She stepped out of that thing...pod...yes...pod. <br/>
<br/>
There was a man holding something, pointing something. <br/>
<br/>
Nausea rose and crashed over her like a sack of wet cement and she doubled over and heaved, and heaved. Nothing came out other than liquid...everything hurt when in the effort of voimiting her muscles contracted. <br/>
<br/>
On her hands and knees, panting from the effort she looked up at the man with the weapon?<br/>
<br/>
“You’re not Elder Srinivasan.”</span>