I'm cold.

Her first thought was a simple one, only processed by the most superficial parts of her brain required to send her hand groping across the sheets for her blanket. When it was nowhere to be found, the rest of her mind reluctantly came to life.

She opened her eyes and immediately squinted at the harsh fluorescent lighting directly above her head. Why was she sleeping with the lights on? That couldn't be right.

The sensation of wrongness developing in the pit of her stomach only grew from there.

She tried to sit up, but her movements were sluggish like she was swimming through mud, and she was immediately sent tumbling back down to the mattress beneath her. Only, it wasn't the soft landing she was expecting. Instead, her back slammed down against a metal cot and the springs groaned underneath her weight.

There was no conscious thought behind her next movements, only a primal feeling of wrong. She wasn't where she was supposed to be, and she had to get out of here. A jolt of adrenaline gave new fire to her muscles and she rolled out of bed, her already goosebump-laden skin protesting at first contact with the cold tile floor. Scrambling to her feet, she ran to the metal door to her bare, cube-shaped room. She fumbled for a doorknob, but there was none.

"Housebot, open the door!" she shouted at the sight of a small, black camera in the corner of the room.

"Request denied. User unknown," said a computerized female voice. "State your name and credentials for access."

"Right. I'm..." She stopped short, the wrongness swelling to a maximum at what she realized next.

She didn't know it. She didn't know her own name.

She froze in trepidation before she began to scan her body for identifiers. She was slim and pale, likely of East Asian descent. She wore a plain, white tank top and loose pants, but there were no tattoos, jewelry, or anything else that could give her a clue as to her identity. She was surprised by how quickly she pushed past the shock of not knowing who she was and began to attack the problem logically.

A problem solver. Perhaps that was part of who she was. That was a good start.

The room itself was also less than helpful. The walls were smooth, devoid of any writing, posters, or shelves, and every surface seemed to be draped in the same unnatural white. As she was peering into the unpromising space under the bed, a thought came to her.

Settlers from the old Chinese Republic were among those who founded the Earthen colony of Xenon with hopes of alleviating their country's struggle with overpopulation. She doubted she was on Earth itself. Although statistics would point her in that direction - the homeworld still housed a majority of the human population - people on Earth did not build sad, windowless rooms with thick metal doors. They did not have to fear the atmosphere outside. They had a beautiful planet - a planet they had only barely managed to save - and they were proud of it.

The ensuing wave of nostalgia surprised her. Had she known Earth? Did she miss it?

That was it! Xenon was the newest of the Earthen colonies. She looked young. She could've been born on Earth and moved to Xenon as a child. The settling companies always preferred young families to ensure growing populations on their new worlds. If her theory were correct, it would provide her with a unique advantage in her current quest. All Xenonese shared a last name! It was a tradition started by the first colonists, to encourage subsequent generations to forget their previous familial and national ties and integrate themselves fully into the community of Xenon.

"Miss Borin! Lady Borin?" She said to the housebot in rapid succession, betting on the off-chance that it wouldn't require her full name.

"Credentials not recognized. Clear the area or intruder alert will sound."

"What... how am I supposed to..." She gestured to the locked door and lack of windows in frustration. "You're not a very smart housebot, are you?"

"Clear the area or intruder alert will sound."

That didn't sound optional. She clenched her fists in frustration, but again, the wheels in her head began spinning in search of a solution. She may not know anything about herself, but she knew the history of the colonies in detail. She knew they were named after the noble gases and she knew what noble gases were, which meant she knew the periodic table. She also knew that the brain had different categories of memory for facts about the world and life events - semantic and episodic memory. In her case, the former seemed perfectly intact... perhaps, she knew something that could be useful. She closed her eyes and began to think.

The human brain doesn't work like a computer. It's not a neatly organized tree of files within files. It's more like a network, with one concept connected to a varying number of related ones. There's no "search" feature to find information you're looking for. You just have to jump from node to node until you get to where you need to go.

She seemed to know a lot about the brain. Perhaps it was what she studied?

She began by focusing on the concept housebot, calling up any and all related knowledge she had. Most housebot systems used in the galactic colonies were manufactured by an Argonian company - Thorn Robotics. Thorn kept an emergency manual override code that worked on all of their systems - a fact that was intentionally not advertised outside the company.

"Initiating intruder alert."

"Override code XENTARIA311!" She grinned as the housebot powered down and she heard the lock on the door disengage. And yet, her victory left her with more questions than answers. How did she know that code? It wasn't basic history or chemistry - things it made sense for her to have learned at school.

Who was she?

Pushing the door open, she entered a narrow hallway painted the same seamless white as her room. The lack of contrast was disorienting - she had no idea which way to go, so she chose a random direction, walking until the hallway finally opened up into another cube-shaped room. This one boasted a few couches separated by a wooden partition from a small kitchen.

"Stupid robot. What's the matter with you now?" A young man with long, dark hair stood in front of a stopped microwave with his hands on his hips.

He had his back to her. She hadn't yet been seen. She made a move to drop into a squat to hide behind the wooden partition, but the man turned around before she could execute her plans. His first reaction was one of shock as he stepped backward toward the counter. She, too, was surprised to see his face - he looked to be around her age, though his posture made him seem much older. She curled her hands into fists behind her back and shifted her weight in a way that would allow her to quickly run back the way she had come if the need arose.

Why did she know to do that?

Who was she?

And yet, the man did not attack. "I should've known. If anyone could disable one of those fancy new Thorn bots, it would be you." A wide grin spread across his face, sinking into his dimples. She frowned in confusion as he walked around the partition and approached her, wrapping his arms around her in a hug. For some reason, she did not resist.

"I was so worried, Rey. Thank the seven moons you're okay," he whispered into her hair.

"Rey," she said quietly, stepping away. "Is that my name? Do you know me?"

The smile slid off his face like a coat that was much too big. "I saw the scans. I knew you wouldn't remember," he said, more to himself than to her. "But seeing it. Seeing you look at me like I'm a stranger." He ran his hands through his hair and looked away before forcing himself to return his gaze to her. "I'm sorry. I'm being selfish. I am told I have a problem with that... by you, usually. This is much more difficult for you than it is for me. I'm here to help you in any way I can."

"Maybe you could start by telling me who I am, who you are, and why we're here. I know this isn't where I live." Rey plopped down on the couch and sank into it. She hadn't realized how long it had been since she'd rested on something soft.

"I'm Tenzar Borin the Third," the boy said hesitantly as he sat down across from her. "I think I'm allowed to tell you that."

"Allowed? What do you mean?"

There was uncertainty on the boy's face - an expression that she somehow knew was normally foreign to him. He wore a golden chaida - a necklace bearing the sigil of a noble house - but it was tucked inside his tunic so that she couldn't see which house it represented.

"You've suffered brain damage," he said slowly, as if the words were physically painful to him. "We built this Module to facilitate your recovery, but the doctors insisted that I allow you to remember things on your own, no matter how tempted I may be to force the process. If I give you information you're not ready for, you may reject it, slowing the recovery process."

"Reject it? Why would I reject my own identity when it's all I want? I feel like I was born when I opened my eyes this morning. There's nothing before that - nothing. Can you imagine what that feels like? The emptiness?" The wrongness. "Ten, please." Tears began to well up in her eyes, and she habitually suppressed them.

There was something else she'd learned about herself. She wasn't accustomed to being allowed to cry.

Something shifted behind Ten's eyes at the sound of that nickname, as if he were seeing a part of Rey that he hadn't seen before. He stood up and walked toward her, sitting down with his back against the bottom of the couch and pressing one of her hands between both of his.

"Screw the doctors," he scoffed. "You're Princess Reynara Argonblood Montanlast, descendant of the First Explorers, Daughter of the Thorn, rightful Queen of Argon, and my... " He hesitated, deciding how to finish his sentence. "My dearest friend in all the galaxy."

For a moment, a confused anger boiled within her, and Rey feared that Ten was right about rejection. How could she be a daughter of Montanlast, the greatest of the noble houses? How could she be destined to rule a planet? She, who did not even know her own name?

But there was something familiar about Ten's proclamation. Not the name necessarily, but the way he said it - with all the pomp and circumstance of a royal entrance.

Introducing Princess Reynara Argonblood Montanlast, descendant of the First Explorers, Daughter of the Thorn!

The people were cheering. With one hand, she was waving. With the other, she was holding her mother's hand - the hand of a Queen.

But not all the people were cheering. There was a gun. A scream. Scarlet blood on an Argon-blue crest.

"No!" Rey gasped, squeezing Ten's hand until her knuckles grew white.

"What is it?" Ten's brow furrowed with concern.

"Someone tried to hurt me..." She cradled her head with shaky fingers. "Someone did hurt me."

"Yes." Ten's voice was sure, grounding. "You survived an assassination attempt, but the people of Argon do not know that. They do not know of this place - a remote module sealed from both sides. I promise you, you are safe here. Safe to recover, and when the time is right, to take back your throne."

"My throne." The words did not feel quite as foreign as Rey expected them to. The wrongness had finally lifted.