Cryo

The Kestrel woke her a hundred and four years early, and it did it politely, which was somehow worse.

Warm air. Soft light. A voice she had chosen herself, back when choosing a voice had seemed like the most consequential decision of the whole endeavour, saying: Commander, there is something you need to see, and I am sorry.

Sana got as far as sitting up before the cold took her, and then she was on the deck plate for a while, and the ship waited.