You awake in perfect darkness, perfect silence. Sound and Light cannot exist in this place as they require motion. You are cold, down into your bones where the ice grip the very core of you.
Stasis. Absolute Zero.
A horrible awareness that the waking mind is not meant to experience this awful, total, stillness.
Something is wrong. Something has gone wrong with your Cold-Sleep and you are... aware.
Then noise. The gentle hum of machinery, dim in the background. The gentle lightening from perfect, terrible darkness to a more normal absence of light.
Then the sudden slice of brilliance, the lid of your Cold-Sleep tube cracks open letting in a nova of photons as your body relaxes suddenly from its stasis imposed rigidity, you blink for the first time in days, months...years? You breath.
The air is hot. Too hot, and stale. The light that seemed so perfectly bright a second ago now seems weak. The lid finishes open and you don't see the expected nurses and technicians looking down on you, the ship's crew waking you from your slumber. You only see the feeble light of a battery fed emergency light, feel the hot stale air that isn't circulating properly... life support failure. Power failure. Emergency.
But no one is running, no shouting... the ship seems almost as silent as that perfect, awful moment of Stasis. There is only you. You and three strangers, each climbing out of their own Stasis Pod.