Page 29 of Rainse
“Sometimes I forget that humans haven't travelled throughout the universe yet.”
She laughed. "We've barely made it to our own moon. People are talking about travelling to Mars, but we don't have the technology yet to sustain human life across such distances."
"What is your ship like?" I asked.
"She's not mine. I just work on her. The Minerva is a research ship. A company built it and now rents it out to scientists from across the world. Lots of fancy scanners and devices, but the most used piece of technology on it is probably the coffee machine.”
“You’ll find better here,” I said with a faint smile. “Our fabricator can make anything.”
“Anything?” she asked. “Even coffee?”
“Especially coffee.”
Her laughter filled the lift, bright and human. It was a sound I wanted to keep bottled somewhere safe.
The doors opened with a soft chime, revealing a wide corridor lined with doors leading to the crew quarters. The air shimmered with light from the aquaponic gardens below. Through the open archway at the far end, the medbay glowed softly, five pods arranged in a circle like sleeping pearls.
Verity hesitated again. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “And intimidating.”
“It’s both,” I admitted. “Like most things worth trusting.”
She looked at me then, eyes softening. “You really love it here, don’t you?”
“I did,” I said honestly. “Before.”
“Before?”
“Before you.”
The words left my mouth before I could swallow them. She froze, eyes widening, then looked away. The silence between us thickened, and I regretted the truth as soon as it was free.
“Let’s get you to the medbay,” I said quickly, and stepped ahead to open the door.
The medbay doors parted with a soft sigh, releasing a wave of air that smelled faintly of salt and something antiseptic yet oddly sweet. The circular room beyond gleamed under gentle light, like sunlight filtered through shallow water. Five pods curved along one side of the wall, their glass lids folded open like waiting shells.
Verity hesitated on the threshold, gaze flicking from one pod to the next. “It looks like something out of a science-fiction film.”
"Science and fiction? Sounds like an oxymoron."
She laughed softly. "The science of today is tomorrow's fiction. I'm sure someone very wise and clever said that."
I stepped ahead of her. “The pod will scan you, nothing more. No pain.”
“That’s what every dentist says,” she muttered. But she followed, cautious but curious.
The pod closest to the centre brightened as we approached, recognising her as the patient. Its inner surface shimmered, the mattress reforming into a shape that mirrored her frame. The system’s voice was soft and genderless, its words translated automatically into English.
“Species: Peritan. Status: mild trauma detected. Please remove upper clothing for full analysis.”
Verity blinked, colour rising in her cheeks. “It’s very direct, isn’t it?”
I tried not to smile. “The ship has no sense of modesty.”
“Lucky ship."
She slipped off her shirt, but kept her slinky breast-harness on, and eased herself onto the mattress. The material moulded instantly around her shape, cradling her like liquid memory foam. Her hair fanned across the surface, and the soft hum of the scanners filled the air.
Lines of blue light swept across her skin, delicate as brushstrokes. The display above her pulsed gently, showing a three-dimensional outline of her body — her heart, lungs, the faint shadow where her rib had cracked.
