Howdy, Stranger!
It looks like you're new here. If you want to get involved, click one of these buttons!
Quick Links
Categories
- 965 All Categories
- 17 Games
- 1 aw2-mapbp
- 365 Richland
- SDHSR
- 4 two-detroits
- 96 aw2e-dvfp
- 53 ISS Tsiolkovsky
- 82 Fury
- Urban Shadows
- 24 LadyB
- 11 AnR
- 4 Junk World 2.0
- 68 PnR
- 23 DRYH
- Jeffland
- The Few
- 11 Other
- 11 General
- 576 Complete
- 12 burning-empires
- 8 aota-jam
- 17 Uncharted Worlds
- Uncharted
- 23 nullptr-veil
- 9 ajax-motw
- 2 tqy-am
- 52 NOVA
- 11 Serene Apocalypse
- jenn-soti
- 63 SWAW
- 13 Blades
- 2 Fall Of Magic
- 12 Generations
- 25 LA Monsters
- tqy
- 32 nupocalypse
- 120 Snowpocalypse
- 136 Junkworld XIII
- 27 Big Maul
- 6 ESC
- 1 Murderous Ghosts
- 17 ANN_pilot
[NOVA] Getting Physical (M 1.3)
Mei, you open your scratchy eyes and see a glass of water sitting on a chair next to you. It's a truly thoughtful gesture, because your mouth is dry and sticky and your head aches from dehydration and the unprocessed poisons of last night's wine. Your stomach is sour, there's a cold sweat everywhere, and you honestly don't know if it's worth getting out of bed until whatever this is, stops. It's 0500, you have an hour before you meet Sung in the gym.
What do you do?
What do you do?
Comments
"Urg," I say.
I lie there for a minute, gathering my thoughts. I don't want to blink, it's too bright in here. And I know the lights are off. I shouldn't have had the second glass of wine. The first one was nice. The last was nice. I need a shower.
Oh, water.
I force myself to move, and I almost stumble climbing out, why am I in the bottom bunk?
Water is so cool. I'm so thirsty! Why am I in Ksenia's bunk? I stand, unsteadily, one hand on my head. I fill another glass of water and drain it. "Mmmmm." I grunt. I feel salty and sticky and achy and just gross. I'm still wearing that dress, even.
Dinner was so nice, but I feel like hell.
I'll find some anti-something pills. "We can bend the speed of light, why can't we cure a hangover?" It's an old joke from the Academy, and I get it now.
Yuck.
I take some steps to the door, slow ones. I remember to shuck off the dress into the recycler first. I try a few stretches to get the blood flowing, and most of them don't make me regret it. And I catch myself before I open the door into the communal hall in the buff. Where is Ksenia? She's not in the top bunk. I'll pull out a couple jumpsuits so I can be decent in the hallway, there and back again, and I spend far too long looking for my toiletries. I need to stop to drink more water, or to sit. I do not look great in the mirror. I hope nobody sees me before I hit the refresher.
Am I decent? I check. Then I put on my game face, do something to my hair, take six deep breaths, and open the door.
It's 0540. Do you change here and head straight for the gym? Or what?
I hold my head up as I pass Sanchez. I'm an officer, even if I don't feel like one. I also need a meal before a workout, something simple and bland this time. And more water.
I ought to ask Dai if I can up my shower clock. Maybe I can just push the button twice, I think guiltily.
In the galley, I want to mix up a simple protein blend with a double vitamin pack. While the blender goes, I find my eyes closing in a near zen trance of meditation. Once it's done, I pretend to myself that I'll read the mission briefing, but I wind up staring at a wall of text, calmly drinking water and my breakfast, tracing random patterns with my fingers idly, thinking about drawing.
I'll head to the gym a little early at 0555.
He pauses to look at you. "You look a little under the weather," he says with a grin that belies the formality of his salute just seconds ago, "Want to take it easy today?"
Then he waits, that grin still on his face.
I return the salute, somewhat less snappy but still with respect and a slightly strained smile. "Sergeant Sung. I've never eaten that well in my life. I... I didn't even know you could eat a lamb." I swallow a bit of shame, admitting to the famous hero Sung my ignorance. But he must have read a brief on me, so I push on. "What about you? Do you get spoiled?"
"That's an understatement," I groan, working through my own series of stretches. Some are graceful, some are forceful, most ache more than they should. I like his grin. He's a good man. "I don't drink that much wine, especially not after the Dauntless." My mouth quirks to the side, and I add, "At least I wasn't singing! But honestly, I was really working to keep my psi down. Did you feel anything?"
Take it easy? I feel my humor slipping. "We're in space, Sung. We don't get to take it easy." I'm trying to keep it light. But it's how I feel, how I was raised. "Scared?" My grin is back, the light in my eyes past the headache. I drink some more water.
He keeps stretching. It's elaborate, this routine, but he explained early in the week that as you get older, it's easier to maintain strength than flexibility. He takes his stretching seriously. He takes a minute to seriously consider your psi question. "No? I felt a chill once, but that was just probably just a stray current from the ventilation. The Gray always makes me feel cold, even when there's no reason."
When you ask if he's scared, he points at one of the machines, already set for shoulder work. He takes a drill sergeant tone that you've assured him is okay. "You want to sing, soldier? I'll make you sing! 5 quick sets, 10 reps each, go!"
All right, Mei, let's do this. I love a challenge. I step into the machine and get set up.
If your total beats mine, he'll remember this, watching you push against your hangover and do the work. That will count in a crucial moment, remind me. If my total beats yours, there's no downside, really, you just won't have that memory in Sung's head. He's on your side right now.
Challenge: (Rolled: 2d6. Rolls: 3, 4. Total: 7)
Sung: (no roll)
Love: (Rolled: 1d8. Rolls: 6. Total: 6)
Leader: (Rolled: 1d6. Rolls: 2. Total: 2)
Natural Athlete: (Rolled: 1d8. Rolls: 1. Total: 1)
You push through the hangover, doing your best to sweat out the hangover toxins as you make your way through your shoulder reps. During the fourth set, your stomach rumbles loudly and you feel a belch rising from your gut. You hold it in, but the distraction causes you to hitch a little on the next to last rep of the set. Your shoulder twinges. Nothing to stop you finishing on the shoulder machine, but you're definitely going to feel it for the rest of the day.
When you finish, Sung whistles. "Looks like Ensign Mei came to play today, hangover or no. Hop up and set the weight for me. Time for the enlisted man to prove his worth."
My pulse is going, I've got the wind in my lungs, and I haven't even broken a sweat. I feel my body fighting away the alcohol, it feels good. But I rub each shoulder, and run a couple rotations when I step up. That could stand some ice, and I don't exactly want to ask Gaumata for an orthopedic massage. Drink some more nice cold water. Feels good to work out. "Mind over body, Ensign Mei is here to stay," I say, running a hand through my hair, pleased. I move around the machine, looking at the controls. "How much more do you usually take?" I ask, not a hint of challenge or even a trace of self-consciousness. He's bigger than me, and male, so our baselines are totally different. He couldn't wear my boots, it's a fact that he just couldn't, and there's no judgement involved.
He starts pumping, fast and even, the same motion every time within an engineer-worthy tolerance. For him, three sets, fast-fast. 21, 16, 12, 10.
Mei, Sung's finished with his shoulder set. What's next on the agenda for you?
I watch his technique. "When we break all this down and set the room for zerogee, I'll show you a few tricks, too." I'm grateful.
I like to run and to cycle, so if the machines are there, we could pair up and keep talking. I also have a routine with freeweights, sort of like areobic yoga, for my own flexibility and motion. Not so sure I'll push the weights with my shoulder - I move it experimentally and it complains. I'll get started on something lighter. "How come Sanchez isn't here? Does he not work out?"
He moves on to another fast set, presses this time. "Sanchez? He'll be here later. Shipboard, he usually studies in the morning and works out at night."
We fall into a pattern, spotting each other, pushing through the work, switching up routines, trading stories.
I've been trying to think this whole time a way to hint at the orders I've been given and the potential, ah, conflict of interests that I suspect are down the line. I don't really expect Church is pressing his ear to the keyhole, but the walls have ears. A little too casually, maybe a shade forced, I say, "Sergeant, I will be reviewing our orders and the mission data later today. I hope you, Sanchez and Ms. Cribbage won't be too busy if I need to call a secure staff meeting?" I briefly meet his eyes when I say "secure." I don't trust testing my psi just yet until this hangover is fully gone. That could be amusing, bad or humiliating, depending on the leakage. I bite my lip once.
I have a bit of tension in my shoulders, and the sore one is not helping. I ratchet down a setting, change my pace.
He looks you directly in the eye, Mei, be careful how you answer.
Dammit, Mei! I should've remembered. I keep my face neutral at the gaffe.
"Thank you, Sergeant." An officer doesn't need to explain themselves, but that's how you build trust.
"Ms. Cribbage..." Keep it simple, Mei. "Saved my life, when we served together on the Dauntless. Evidently I meant a meeting of comrades." Sung will understand that, right? After his career? Don't over-explain, Mei.
I did forget Ksenia's not my staff. It feels like she's further away now.
He looks down at the ground, obviously reluctant to continue. "And, Ma'am? Be careful what you say around Sanchez."
I run in silence for several seconds. I close my eyes for a brief moment, and for some reason, I imagine my terrarium, spinning slowly, the little shrimp inside swimming peacefully. My head pounds as I burn through the chemicals in my body.
Just before the silence stretches too long, I open my eyes and shake my head at Sung. "No, Sergeant, it's not an order. Consider it all unsaid and withdrawn." I run further, pumping my legs and arms, not pushing hard yet, working out how to phrase what I want to say. "Sung, growing up in Arcology, and moving up in the Academy, then the stint in officer's training and Psi Corps... I've had eyes on me so long, it's hard to tell when there are a few extra." I feel sort of collapsed, like I'm off balance, but it's all in my heart. Work through it, Mei, there's no substitute for experience! I set my jaw with a little determination as I berate myself and then follow it up with a little pep talk. "By the book."
I glance at him, looking down, but I don't stare. Go back to looking at the wallscreen scene. "Is there anything I need to know about Sanchez, Sergeant?" Mostly neutral, just a hint of curiosity and command.
He stops. "I wish I could unsay that, Ma'am. Sanchez has always been a right guy, far as I know, aside from the women, and a good comrade. I trust him to do the right thing by you when push comes to shove, but I don't know what he's got going on."
I feel a cold finger along my spine and I nearly break stride, but I catch myself in time. An hour with Psi Ops could mean anything. I'll need to try a scan, check for triggers... Maybe when he's asleep? Careful, careful, Mei. Don't want a woken sleeper.
"Understood, Sung." I finish my set and step down off the machine. I look directly at him, posture firm, and put as much sincerity as I feel into my words, "Thank you, Seargent. I'll take it under advisement. I deeply appreciate your candor." I want to say more, but I don't want to overdo it.
Nobody said this would be an easy mission.
I return the salute, that shoulder reminding me that it's there with an edge and an ache. "You too, Sung. I've got yours."
The hangover wants to stop working and is thirsty and hungry. I plan oblige it. My eyes are complaining at the light now, and I suspect that I'm due for another tablet soon. I'll give Sung enough time to finish in the refresher and claim a second shower. Then, I'll head back to my berth with my datapad and a handmeal.
I need a little quiet, and time. I can work through this.
Ug. I'm a two-glass girl.
Please go here.