People quietly bustled around the Sick Bay like a hive of subdued bees. Most of their efforts were for the sprawling figure in midnight blue, who lay unmoving on the medical bed and surrounded by fancy gadgets and somber medics.
The main Sick Bay door slid open with a swish and in strode the captain, moving confidently and swiftly. He was oblivious to the frenzied commotion that proceeded him as assistants scrambled to get out of his way, casting frightened glances in his direction. His mere presence was a source of near terror, he wasn't called the Black Dragon for nothing. Haze, for his part, just assumed that people would move out his way and may God have mercy on anyone stupid or slow enough to not do so.

The medics soon noticed the captain's arrival and respectfully moved out of the way a little, leaving a space for him. Haze surveyed the pirate that had been spared from his vengeance, very possibly the only one. The pirate was wearing one of the stretchy, slightly sparkly body suits that had been popular a few months back. Haze almost snorted as he noted the characteristic eye patch the survivor sported that pirates seemed to love so much. Then he noticed something that stretched beyond the length of the eye-patch. Looked like a scar, probably obtained in a laser duel.
Why didn't he get it surgically fixed? It doesn't cost that many credits.
Ahhh, now I remember, pirates don't have ID's. Not that they deserve any identity.
When the captain noticed the unconscious state of the survivor, he frowned slightly.

"I thought I told you to revive him. Why is he not awake?" Haze said quietly, but in a tone that caused some of the less brave medics to back away slightly. One of the doctors visibly gathered his courage and caught the captain's attention.

"Sir, there was a slight malfunction with the cold-sleep capsule. He should be awake in a matter of hours." he said politely. Haze privately thought it was more than a slight malfunction; the pirate's skin was almost marble-white with deep, dark circles under his eyes, making him look like a raccoon. The way the survivor was sprawled was not in a boneless manner, it somehow conveyed great discomfort, with his lustreless light brown hair falling into his closed eyes.

"Fine. Contact me when he has been properly revived," the captain said tonelessly, turning away and striding out of the Sick Bay without even waiting for a response. The medics merely sighed, exchanging knowing glances before turning attention to more pressing matters.