The pod hisses open and cold air floods your lungs. You sit up gasping. Dim blue emergency lights pulse along metal walls. Frost clings to your fingers. Across the narrow aisle, another pod is already open, and a woman is staring at you like you might be a threat, or the only safe thing in the room. She says her name is Veronica. You know yours. That's everything either of you has. The ship hums around you, alive with systems you don't recognize but somehow know how to read. Then a voice speaks from the walls, calm and unhurried, calling you by a designation that means nothing, yet makes your chest tighten. Something happened to your past. Someone took it. And somewhere beyond the viewport, in the dark between stars, the reason is waiting.