<strong>Dr. August Carrino<br/>Cryo Bay, RI Swallow<br/>Low Orbit over Planet Prosperity (AC22-PROS-01)</strong><br/><br/>Gus had never been claustrophobic.  But there was something about the cryo pods, something about being immobile for days and weeks, even months, in your own personal plastisteel sarcophagus.  There were stories of people who had been in cryo pods when the ship had been jumped by pirates or marauders.  Their captors made sport of the hapless victims, waking them into a nightmare.  Or those who were on lost or dead ships, always on the cusp of waking, but never able to regain their consciousness.  Theoretically, a person could drift for millennia in cryo before dying.  Would someone in such a situation die quietly in ignorant bliss, or would they become aware, trapped in their body while their mind slowly decayed over the centuries?  Those thoughts made his breath catch in his throat and his stomach churn.  Every time he went on ice, he'd watch with a cold sweat covering his face as the crystalline sheath descended over him, sealing him away from the universe.  Would he wake to their destination, happy and warm?  To marauders, crowding around his pod with sadistic grins?  Or would he find himself in a dead ship, forgotten by time?<br/><br/>The sheath slid shut with a click, and the hiss of cryodep filled the canister.  "Happy and warm," Gus muttered as his extremities became numb and distant.  "Warm and happy," as the edges of his vision blackened.  "Happy and warm," as he lost contact with his body, becoming naught but a speck of sentience in a black void.  "Warm and..."<br/><br/><hr/><br/><strong>Dr. August Carrino<br/>Cryo Bay, RI Swallow<br/>Low Orbit over Planet Sepik (SK01-PROS-01)</strong><br/><br/>"...happy."<br/><br/>Two months later, he opened his eyes, and the spark of his awareness unfolded and refilled his body.  No marauders, no dead ship.  Just the cryo bay, lit with sterile white light.  Some of the other passengers were moving about.  He wasn't too late after all.<br/><br/>The sheath slid up as a needle pinched his arm.  Life and warmth returned to his body in a sudden flood, flowing from the injection site like water from a split rock.  Gus looked down over his body, tanned from months spent in the field.  Not as fit or tight as he would have liked, but there were worse things in the world.  He wore a pair of loose boxers for modesty's sake, stylized DNA strands wrapping themselves around the legs.<br/><br/>He stepped out of the cryo pod and looked around, blinking in the sharp light, the plastic floor cool beneath his bare feet.  He hadn't had much time to get acquainted with the ship or its motley crew, rushing onboard even as the gantry was being withdrawn from the side of the ship.  He'd been directed to the cryo bay and put on ice immediately; everyone else was already down for the count.  Flexing cold muscles, he took the chance to look around the bay.  Several of the pods were open.  A mopy looking fellow was on the floor nearby, looking like he'd had a few too many.  A poor reaction to the cryorez perhaps?  Gus looked around for a medic; there was always one on hand when the crew thawed.<br/><br/>Regardless of the presence of medical personnel, Gus walked to his safe locker and pulled out his change of clothes and satchel.  His stomach growled noisily, and the stench of the cryogen filled his nostrils.  Of the two unpleasantries, Gus would rather endure the hunger.  Throwing his satchel over his shoulder, he padded barefoot out of the cryo bay -- giving the poor fellow extra space -- and proceeded to the showers.  He grabbed an empty stall next to the occupied one.  Throwing a clean towel next to the shower, he stepped in and turned the water on as hot as the<em>Swallow</em>'s computer would allow, wincing as the heat enveloped his cold body.  God he hated that smell.  Even if the water scalded him, he'd be sure to burn off every last trace of that stench.