The last thing she remembered were the bullets stitching into her cockpit, the toxic atmosphere of Pandora flooding in, the scream of a stinger heading straight for her-

And then she slid out of the pod with a disgusting wet schlorp noise and struggled to climb to her feet. Trudy was no stranger to waking up from stasis - she'd been put in cold sleep on her way to Pandora, and she'd been back and forth to the outposts at Jupiter in cold sleep a few times. The disorientation, the gnawing hunger, the stiffness in her limbs - those were all normal, and she immediately started going through the muscle exercises that would make her limber and fighting-able faster.

At the same time, she was taking stock. No service rifle. No uniform. Not even a goddamn radio- where the hell...?

"Great," she said, getting a better look at herself. "The afterlife is sticky alien glop."