[ WP ] Aliens have just collected you in your life pod after a space battle .

The life pods are designed so we ca n't steer. Meant for being stranded in space, it broadcasts an S.O.S. to the entire human empire even as it leaves the mother ship. Within minutes any occupant will be gassed so they wo n't suffer the long months, and perhaps years before a rescue. As soon as your vitals show you're in deep sleep, it puts the entire interior into a cryogenic freeze. 
 
 The technology is effective, efficient and brilliant. But as I'm being launched out of our vessel I ca n't help but slam the hatch with my fists. My ears are still ringing with the endless boom of explosions and my eyes covered in blind spots from the flashes. The battle had been swift, and we humans had lost. Captain's orders: Abandon ship. Which was why I was stuck here, counting the seconds before I got put into stasis. 
 
 This was no Titanic. There were ample pods for the entire crew, by the time the call was made only half of us had access to the escape pods, and a quarter of those were injured, a condition that no matter how advanced our technology was, made the life pod a null option. No use being cryogenically frozen if you bleed out before the temperature even drops. Better men and women than I were stuck alive on the ship, and I had to abandon them to whatever their fate may be. 
 
 I sit back and harness myself into the chair. No use getting worked up over survivor's guilt now. I'll do that when I thaw. 
 
 *** 
 
 The first thing I notice is the cold. I'm too cold. I shiver, my uniform plastered to me. I frown at its tattered appearance. What had happened? The last thing I remember is... The life pod. I'm still in it. But I've been picked up. Someone on the outside has initiated the thaw cycle. 
 
 At once I'm struck by relief. Then anxiety. How long was I out? How many of the crew survived? Their screams are coming back to me now, and I squirm with the pain. 
 
 `` Please do n't let me be the only one,'' I whisper to myself, half pleading with fate, half praying to a God. The hatch swings open. The lump in my throat drops to my toes with the weight of lead. A gun greets me. Slowly, I put my hands behind my head. There's no mistaking the alien wielding it. The brute features are familiar, too familiar. 
 
 I've been rescued by the wrong side. 
 
 

