Commander Ellen "Elf" Foxworthy is busy eulogizing her friend, lover, and comrade-in-arms.
. . . And he made me feel smart. I guess this is my last chance to thank him for that.
Commander Kevyn Andreyasn is lying at the bottom of a hole, his throat bitten out by a jeopard. He has had no heartbeat for the last fifteen minutes.
So. . . Um, thanks. I just wish I'd been smarter, or faster, or SOMETHING. Maybe then, we'd be laughing right now, spending your pay, and wearing actual clothing. And, you know. . . Not having a funeral.
There is still activity inside his brain. The hallucinations induced by shock and hypoxia have given way to something else, with the help of a few billion foreign bodies.
Good-bye, Kevyn. If we ever get off this rock, I swear we'll bring you with us. I'll dig you up with my bare hands if I have to.
These nano-machines are keeping his mind alive, but he is not listening to Elf's eulogy.
Right now he is remembering happier times. He is completely out of touch with the outside world.
Welcome back to the land of the living, Commander.
In honor of your return from corpsicle-country, we are having an ice-cream party. You're the guest of honor.
And that means you have to serve the food. Scoop mine first, slave-boy. You owe me big-time.
Big time it is, then!
Back at'cha, with interest!
Well. . . Almost completely.