After the diagnosis, he was placed on doctor-enforced medical leave until he could show signs of improvement. That meant no piloting of any kind. It was a cruel sentence, considering the recent news of the Alliance making headway in the Fountain region against IT. He wanted to join them. He turned his fervor towards helping the war effort locally - moving equipment in station, preparing ships for docking and undocking, and assisting capsuleers on the hangar floor. The physical labor was helping his body to recover, and the cerebral downtime helped him relax and concentrate on the long term plan - becoming mentally equipped for the future through skill training.
Today was his checkup. The nurses took his vitals and sent the data off to be processed. A few minutes later the doctor entered, busily scrutinizing a pad in his hand filled with the diagnostic results. He seemed satisfied. He turned to address his patient and paused with surprise. "You look different somehow, Knee."
"I tied my hair down. It keeps it out of the way when I'm moving stuff."
"No, aside from that. You look healthy. You look like you're ready to fight a war."
Knee smirked. "That's why we're all here, isn't it?"
"Indeed. You've improved dramatically. I'm ready to sign your release. Let's take a baseline so we can update your clones."
After what seemed like an eternity of scans, the clone update was complete. Along with a clean bill of health, the doctor handed Knee a small envelope.
"What's this?"
"Photographs. I thought you'd like to see how much you've improved."
Knee studied the photos for a moment, shrugged, and made his way to the hangar to board his pod.
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After: