My ship shape position
I woke up to the mental equivalent of Tom mentally screaming at me, and trust me, it's just as unpleasant when it's in your head. I sat up and gave an involuntary yelp as I slipped off the bed and crashed to the floor. I sat up and groaned as my mind began receiving pain signals all over my body, being sore didn't even begin to describe it.
"Tom? Why do I hurt so much?"
"It seems that the nanites are re-ordering themselves to be more shift friendly, while your legs are experiencing both the nanites and are under duress from your long walking yesterday."
I grunted out a weak 'ok' in response, and then attempted to get up. I failed. Miserably.
After the fifth or sixth attempt I gave up and instead asked Tom another question, "why did you wake me up in the first place?"
He gave the equivalent of a maniacal laugh and said, "so you'll be prepared for your training as a member of the 'Titan' of course, it is, after all, your first day."
I sighed, "first day of..."
"Why, fighter pilot training, starting with a mock skirmish in 15 minutes."
No words could have motivated me better.