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update from sparkleup

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Madison Rye Progress 2024-10-07 18:39:30 -07:00
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<p>She/he/this body cried out in shock and agony, for the captain, whose body she now inhabited, had been well and truly singed by the explosion of the prober, to the point where the CMO, the young and kindly Dr. R, was caught in the act of slathering ointment on the side of her/his/this body&rsquo;s face. They both — these two bodies no longer inhabited by the correct minds — stared at each other in shock and horror.</p>
<p>&ldquo;No no no–&rdquo; Dr. R/not Dr. R was saying.</p>
<p>Abby/the captain/this body wailed and clutched at the console, mashing buttons in a panicked attempt to find something, <em>anything</em> solid and known, something to anchor herself/himself/this body. The shuttle slewed sideways, back in toward the station and away from the FTL jump point.</p>
<p>None of the rest of that otherwise prosaic afternoon made it into their dream. It always ended in silence, a warm rush of air to the face that blended seamlessly into the move into wakefulness.</p>
<p>None of the rest of that otherwise prosaic afternoon made it into their dream, and certainly none of the agony of the evening and months after, the reconstructive surgeries on her muzzle, learning to walk again, learning to live as two.</p>
<p>It always ended in silence, a warm rush of air to the face that blended seamlessly into the move into wakefulness.</p>
<p>The dream clung to Soot like the whispers of spiderwebs caught in fur, little streaks of memory that would tickle a whisker here, the rounded rim of an ear there. Days like these, more than most, the long-healed scar of their reconstructed muzzle would itch and the lisp that came with it, one they bore proudly, would be all the more pronounced.</p>
<p>They would make their way through the day with all the same practiced ease as ever, and yet just below the surface, simmering uncomfortably, would be the dream. There, just beneath their skin, would be–</p>
<p>&ldquo;Captain on deck,&rdquo; the automated system announced as soon as their ID was recognized. The faint chime that followed, a thing doubtless engineered to sound soothing and reassuring, always sounded inquisitive, as though the station was curious to hear their thoughts on the matter.</p>