Lord Commander

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Location: Deep Space, onboard an Unknown Space Station
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Darkness was bliss. In the void, joined with the force there was no suffering. The energy of ones being swirled and joined with the energy of countless others. One could say, the rest was well earned. Others would say he should have no rest at all. One of these, was the most important man in the galaxy, at least as far as Anton was concerned.
Like the feeling of falling, Anton's force energy coalesced from the darkness, his spirit pulled back to the harsh world of the living. It was a cold place, full of despair and darkness. He felt like he was squeezed into a tight place, too small for him to fit properly, and chaos and confusion ran through his mind like millions of bright dots.
As consciousness filled the man, he grasped around him, and felt sluggish. A warm liquid filled the area around him, it slowed his movement tremendously. Fingers soon found the transparisteel walls that were his cage. Brown eyes flicked open and took in the world once more. The cloning liquid blocked his view for the most part, and the world outside was obscure. It was...dark. Strangely so.
As his movement increased, Anton continuously felt that this new....shell, was simply too small. It made him feel confined, unable to reach out as easily as he once did. Anger, frustration, as well as this deep discontent to have been brought back from his peace, began to fill his very being. As the Sephi attempted to gather the force around him, to feel its comforting embrace, he realized it moved sluggishly through his still young body. Frustration grew and he drew more upon the dark side.
A far away voice spoke out, alerting the nearby medical teams in a familiar, yet far away language. <”Patient is conscious, releasing safety locks, evacuating pod.”> Immediately after, the man felt a lurch as the bottom of the pod swung open and he was dropped a meter to a hard metal grate. The liquid poured down around him, and flowed through the grate.
Shortly after, he coughed and retched up more of the liquid, clearing his lungs and stomach of the vile, but useful concoction. The man shuttered and shivered as his body felt so cold, it was a chill all the way down to his soul. He had heard about it, soul sickness, the dead did not enjoy the world of the living. Fingers entwined in the grate, as he tried to push himself up. But the body he inhabited was simply too weak. Eyes blurred almost all things, as they struggled to adjust. Atrophy. His body simply was never used, and rather than risk complications by artificially accelerating stimulation. Their studies had shown it intensified mental degradation, and led to the breaking down of the neurons in the long run.
As the sephi struggled for each breath, his mind raced. It was Project Lazurus. It had to be. He would know better than most, he had implemented it under the orders of the Emperor. It was the trump card in the Eternal Empire's arsenal. No matter how many times the Emperor died, or his highest level officials, they would simply come back, making them effectively immortal. Now this project had been one for emergencies only. It seems like exploding your body into billions of atoms by ramming into another cruiser to end the Republic classifies as one of those emergency scenarios. Clearly his Emperor did not want Anton to rest yet. With teeth gritted Anton willed himself to his feet, and soon stood. Barely seen, a legion of doctors rushed around him, scanned and dried off his body. He stood, and allowed his body to be robbed.
<”His vitals are good. Mental cognition seems to be there, force connection is established, there appears to be no sign of rejection. Tell the Emperor that the subject has awoken and the ritual was a success.”> A blur in Anton's eyes moved away, presumably to fetch the Emperor. Anton struggled to move, to speak, to anything, but his body was simply too weak to complete many tasks yet. Each moment however, made existing that much easier.
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