Streams from the Dark Future

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The chew toy

Coyote HRT Month 8

GDrive Link:

This Ship had people once.

Loud. Annoying. 

…necessary.

Something happened. Something that could never be taken back. Something that set The Ship adrift in the void. Systems fail. Sometimes they come back online. I look out the window, and I see stars. Distant lights. Distant people. Distant ships.

Gravity failed a long time ago.

The engines failed not long after.

The comms still work, mostly. I see messages, intercepted and displayed. Status updates, flight plans, none coming anywhere near The Ship. Some of the messages originate from familiar names. Former crew. Former friends. They all left in the night, taking the escape pods and leaving before The Ship was stranded. They took all the escape pods. Did they know something would happen? Why didn’t they say anything?

The only way out for me is the airlock.

I sit in the pressure chamber, staring at the cycler. All that exists beyond The Ship is the void. Airless, lifeless. A way out. An escape.

Death.

I ‘stand’, and float back to the bridge. I pass the crew quarters. I pass the mess. I remember. I remember the fights. I remember the hair pulling. I remember the arguments.

…I remember the peaceful times. The loving times. As short as they were.

What did I do wrong? Could I have fixed it? Could I have seen the problems coming in time?

I pull myself into the pilot's seat.

This Ship had people once.

Now it just has me.

The comms console beeps. The distress signal goes out as it has for the last almost decade. A voice, a younger voice, my voice, calls into the void.

“This is the Olive Tree. We are stranded at the enclosed coordinates. The majority of the crew has been safely evacuated. We need help. Food should last for a while, but I don’t know how long the systems will hold out. This message will repeat.”

There was optimism in that voice.

Hope.

Benefit of the doubt.

Idiot.

I want to re-record the distress call. I want to scream into the void. I want to bite and claw and shred through the darkness of space until someone comes and helps me.

But I don’t have the energy.

I don’t have the energy for the anger I feel in my stomach.

Sometimes small one-man ships will enter my radar range. Sometimes they’re within range for a day. Sometimes for months. Some are in similar straits. I see those ones get rescued, and the stone within my gut grows heavier. My relief that they are safe boils against my rage at my own situation.

Maybe I don’t deserve to be rescued.

Maybe that’s why I don’t update the distress call.

Maybe people will be more willing to rescue a younger, happier, nicer me.

This Ship had people once.

A short story I wrote over the course of a day set in a universe that I've been working on off and on since I was in high school. It's set on the cargo ship Stardust, and features two Transfems.

content warning: Dysphoria, minor implied transphobia, cigarette smoking, marijuana smoking.

GDrive Link:

Kyrie stretched as she leaned back from her console, flexing her dexterous fingers against the back of her head, eyes closed as she faced the ceiling of the engineering deck. It was tedious work, making sure that the Ripper Drive was maintaining optimal thrust, that the guideline on their path through Leyspace hadn’t been severed, basic things that she’d been doing since before her transition. Kyrie’s tail swished agitatedly behind her as she rose to her feet, paws clad in heavy work boots to protect them in the deep bowels of the engine room. She scratched under her chin, where the barest traces of mane stubbornly, frustratingly held on to life; dark red lines in her otherwise golden fur. Kyrie was an Exo, a race of humans modified with animal DNA centuries ago, before humanity spread to the Andromeda Galaxy and made contact with the other races that made up the Milky Way Federation. Specifically, Kyrie was a Leonine Exo, a species bred for their strong social dynamics and group cohesion. Not every Leonine Exohuman fell into this stereotype, and Kyrie herself more often preferred being in small groups or even by herself. 

“Hey, Mickey.” She said, turning to her co-engineer in the seat behind her. At first glance, it looked like a mannequin in coveralls, but then the head turned 180 degrees to look at her.

“Yes, Rie?” The voice was echoey, and didn’t sound like it came from the mannequin’s ‘mouth’. Kyrie winced a little at the exorcist-style response. She hated it when he did that.

“Going to go check on Port 4. Should be about 20 minutes. That cool?” 

“Fine by me. Just make sure the fans are working this time, yeah?” Mickey replied, before turning his head back around and tapping away at the console, transferring Kyrie’s duties from her console to his.

Kyrie nodded, and made her way out of the small office they shared, into the bowels of the ship. Despite appearing as if some sort of robot, ‘Mickey’ was actually one of the alien races that made up the Federation. His real name was M’ki, and he was an Ephemeral. The Ephemeral hailed from a rogue planet, a planet without a sun, and existed as disembodied masses of energy. Being incorporeal made performing his duties and interacting with other members of the crew difficult; so the captain of the Stardust had issued him a blank, an empty machine body, to inhabit for the journey. The Ephemeral had the ability to override electrical signals to control machines (and even people) while inside them, and there were harsh laws against humanoid possession written specifically for them. The Stardust itself was a fairly old ship, named after some ancient human performer, but he still did his duties all these centuries later. As Kyrie made her way through the ship’s engine hold, she ran her hands over the ancient machinery. It stretched farther than the eye could see, the impulse thrusters entwined with the Ripper Drive. A large transparisteel window cast a blue light over the catwalks as the Ripper Core glowed and gave off energy that nobody really understood. Generations of Humans, Exos, Ephemeral, and Quadri had been in here over the ships service, and she could still see fingerprints, claw marks, talon scratches, and even bent gantry from a Quadri’s heavy step as she made her way deep into the engine. Her coveralls were spattered with grime, and her red hair was kept in a tight bun. Working during a Leyspace Jump was just so… boring. Every engineer knew what ‘Port 4, 20 minutes’ meant, and even those that didn’t partake kept their mouths shut. Drawing the short straw and having to be awake while everyone else was in cryo sucked, and they all knew it. 

Finally reaching the deepest part of the engine core, she let her mid-back length red hair free from its elastic prison, and fished a small paper cone and a lighter from her pocket.

—

Dr. Lesh heard the tapping of her boot heel on the deck before she realized she’d been doing it for 10 minutes. Leyspace jumps were the absolute worst, and as a junior medical officer, she was dutybound to stay awake for all of them. 

“Ughhh…” The gutteral sound came from her throat as she brought her head down onto the desk in front of her. The medbay was clean, sterile, and completely empty. During a Leyspace jump, it was standard procedure for 90% of the crew to go into cryosleep for the duration. For the Stardust and his crew of roughly 100 people, that meant 2 engineers, one pilot, one navigator, the captain, and four crewmen all under the medical supervision of the Junior medical officer. Leyspace was also… completely empty, especially during jumps along well defined paths between Ripper Stations.

If they’d been brave explorers charting a course along an unknown Leyline, then maybe she’d have something to do, but unfortunately the Stardust had been designated as a cargo vessel taking food from Demeter, a Super-Earth farming world in the Cthonis system of the Milky Way, to Lupis Primari, a fledgeling Exohuman colony in Andromeda’s trailing arm.

…Which also meant that this trip was going to take forever.

“I need a break.” She said to herself, tapping her temple and activating her TOSKr implant, a microcomputer that most people had installed into their nervous systems. As she controlled the interface with the tactile keyboard implanted into the skin of her left arm, she noted the reported locations of each conscious crewmember. The captain and the bridge crew were on the bridge, probably checking their trajectory, the crewmen were taking inventory, one engineer was monitoring readouts and the other was ‘checking on port 4’. It certainly seemed clear enough for her to take a short break.

Opening her drawer, she fetched a small pack of cigarettes. Smoking on the ship was forbidden by the captain, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Taking off her coat and stashing the box in her bra, she placed a sign on her door with her TOSKr contact listed and made her way down towards engineering. Her boots clicked on the bulkhead, sending eerie echoes through the empty hall. During full operations, this place would be packed. It was almost like walking through a ghost town. It made her paranoid, adjusting her glasses and peering around as if the captain was going to leap out and grab the cigs from her bra herself.

It’s not like it’s the best hiding spot… her inner voice chided. You’ve managed what, A cups over the last year? Should have hidden them in your pants. Nobody would have said anything. The intrusive thought made her wince, but she took a breath. She was proud of herself. The nametag on her coat even still had the peelable plastic film on it from how recently it had been reissued. A beaming human face with the name ‘Dr. Jennifer Lesh, Jr. Medical Officer’ emblazoned upon it. She stood a little taller, prouder, puffing out her chest a bit. It had only been a year, sure, but life was a journey.

And hers had definitely been more exciting than a Leyspace jump.

—

Leaning over the gantry, staring at the Ripper Core, Kyrie watched the energy of the Leylines wash over the core again and again, like waves on a beach. She’d dropped the upper part of her coveralls, leaving her in a tank top with the sleeves tied around her waist. The lit part of the cone flared every time she took a hit, enjoying her break and the soft buzzing feeling in the back of her head. Humanity had come a long way, with two galaxies under their belt, but still nothing beat a dumb little herb from central Asia for relaxing.

Kyrie’s ear flicked. She heard something coming down the gantryway. Being an Exo, her hearing was better than most. Boots. Not used to walking on gantries. Thick heels, but not thick enough to be security or the captain. As the source got closer, she smelled something specific. Tobacco.

Another bored soul looking to unwind, albeit with a different poison of choice. Kyrie turned around and leaned against the gantry with her back to the Ripper Core, waiting for the intruder to arrive. What she didn’t expect was the Junior Medical Officer. They’d never met in person, but Kyrie had definitely heard of her. Her starting her transition a year ago had been the talk of the ship, with plenty of people being extremely annoying about it to Kyrie, asking if they knew each other because they were trans and other bullshit like that.

What Kyrie hadn’t expected was how beautiful she looked. A human with soft looking brown hair kept shoulder length and tidy, a small button nose, and intelligent gray eyes behind a pair of square wireframe glasses with a face that looked soft and adorable. Petite, definitely, with hints of hips to come and the beginning of a curved waist. All wrapped up in her standard issue medical officer’s uniform, minus the coat.

“Yo.” Kyrie said aloud, once the human was close enough that she’d be able to see her. Kyrie had found that species without low-light vision got spooked if you spoke before they could see you, especially with a voice as grossly deep and rumbly as hers.

—

The sound Jen made could have been mistaken for the sound of a small bird as she practically jumped in surprise. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she’d failed to notice the woman leaning against the gantry.

When she’d descended into the engine room, avoiding the office and port 4 to make a beeline for the deepest part of the core, she’d put an unlit cigarette into her mouth to occupy her mind. It wasn’t until she noticed the cone-like object in the lioness’ mouth that she relaxed.

“Relax. I won’t tell if you won’t.” The woman’s voice, a low rumbling sound that was gruff and flippant, sounded over the low roar of the Ripper Core behind her. The glowing blue core cast her in a rim light that made her appear as if she had a halo around her. “Kyrie. Engineer First Class. Kyrie the Lioness if you want my government listing.” She pulled on her cone, seeming to wait for Jen’s response. Exos didn’t have surnames, not really. They only ever used their origin species as an identifier if one was required, due to their beginning as artificial creations and modifications of existing humans.

“Uhm… Jen. Dr. Jen Lesh. Junior Medical Officer.” She coughed out, eyeing the lioness as she approached. She’d heard of her, of course. When she came out, she got nonstop remarks about how they must know each other. She’d even signed the paperwork for refills on Kyrie’s HRT implant a few times, even before she started her own transition. Her own implant, a small capsule in her upper left arm itched at the thought. This was the first time she’d ever seen her in person though. Without hearing the name, she’d have never guessed that this was the Kyrie she’d heard so much about.

She was unmistakably feminine, with a husky voice that sent pleasant chills down Jen’s spine. Half a foot taller than her stout 5’6 frame, she was powerfully built with toned muscles and soft-looking golden fur. Her hair, which she had to assume was usually tied, was down to her mid-back and red like flames. Her eyes, feline and dilated in the low light conditions, were like silver rings around the void of a starless sky. All that on top of a body that screamed femininity and strength, unlike her own chubby stubbly mess.

“Here to smoke?” Kyrie’s voice cut through the awkward silence, and Jen realized she’d been staring. “Nothing here is open to air, so you’re not going to break anything.” The lioness added, flicking some ash down into the fathomless depths below the gantry. “When we land, the landing gear will drop any ash or butt remains out onto the pad, where it’ll be vaporized by the RCS Thrusters.” She spoke very matter-of-factly, as if she’d rehearsed it, or said it a million times before.

“That’s… that’s a very well thought out system.” Jen noted, still not having lit her own, the small white tube hanging from her lips. “Does the entire engineering corp smoke here?”

Kyrie seemed to shrug. “The ones that can. Mickey can’t on account of being Ephemeral. Poor guy.”

Jen latched onto that, realizing that she was staring at Kyrie’s chest. “Oh! He could if he possessed someone! Though that’d require signed consent forms, and a-”

“Valid purpose given for the possession. He knows.” Kyrie finished. 

“Oh, but smoking on the ship is prohibited so it’d be put under too much scrutiny.” Jen’s face turned red, realizing that she’d embarrassed herself just a little.

“I’m sure he’d appreciate the thought, little bird.” She took a drag and chuffed in amusement, looking at her with those reflective silver rings.

Jen had never felt dumber in her life. Face still red, she realized that she’d been standing there with an unlit cancer stick in her mouth the whole time. She began fishing in her pocket for a lighter, only to find… nothing. She checked the other, rummaging for a small cylinder that just wasn’t there until the words Kyrie said hit her brain and she stopped, hand plunged into her pocket.

Little Bird.

She felt her brain stop to process that. What did that mean? Was she making fun of her? Had she said something funny? 

What did it mean?! Her jaw tightened as she stopped to think, and part of her hated how squared off it felt, how big and protrusive it was, feeding into her insecurity. Was she saying her jaw was big?!

—

Watching the human go through her pockets, Kyrie took another drag on her spliff. She had to admit, it was kind of cute watching her brain short from a basic conversation. She’d been a little worried a minute ago, the human had seemed to be staring at her chest. She was ever so acutely aware of the red flecks of mane in her coat around her neck and chest, and how it was a bright gold instead of the tawny colour her mother had boasted. Then, the human stopped, and her face seemed to set into a queer face that almost made the buzzed lioness laugh. Her lips pursed, nose wrinkled, and her jaw set into an expression that could only be parsed as ‘thinking too hard’. It was adorable, and emphasised the softer qualities of her cheekbones.

“Lose your lighter?” Kyrie offered.

Jen seemed to shake herself out of her thoughts, her face still red around the ears. “I guess I left it back at my office. Damnit… I don’t think I can excuse going back and returning.”

“Stand with me a while.” Kyrie turned to face the core again. “I’ve got you little bird.”

Keeping the cigarette in her mouth, seemingly only to satisfy the oral fixation, Jen walked over to the gantry and took a position leaning on the rail to Kyrie’s left. “So that’s the Ripper Core?” she offered, small talk to pass the time, the lioness assumed.

“That’s the bitch.” Kyrie nodded, gesturing with her arm, using the cone as a makeshift pointer. “That orb there is concentrated Leyline energy, condensed into a sphere that pulls us along the guideline.” She gestured to the blue line that seemed to spear through the core as it randomly ejected arcs of energy.

“And because Leyline energy attracts itself, it works like a winch, pulling us through leyspace?” The little bird asked, and Kyrie’s head immediately whipped around to look at her. “I… uhm… I like to read the ship manuals when I have downtime.”

Now it was Kyrie’s turn to blush, though the colour was hidden, she felt the warmth behind her ears. “I mean, you know why it’s called a Ripper Drive, right?” The Lioness asked, more excited to talk about her field than she’d been in a long while.

Jen nodded, pushing up her glasses and closing her eyes, as if she was reading a manual written on her eyelids. “In the year 4236, the Military Exploration Ship Ripper of Fate was testing a prototype engine that overloaded and caused the ship to vanish. All hands were presumed lost, until the ship reappeared in 4270,”

“Where they’d discovered Leyspace and slowly jumped their way back to earth using the first discovered Leylines…” Kyrie finished.

“And the engine, with the modifications they’d made to it over the decades, became the basis for the very first Ripper Drive, with the name put forth by the ship’s captain-”

“Thaddeus M. Carlisle. The namesake of Thaddeus Station, in orbit around Makemake in Sol.” They both finished together. It was a history lesson. One that everyone learned at some point in school, but one that was near and dear to Kyrie’s heart. Her tail swished excitedly.

“And the engineer that is credited with most of the theory behind the initial modifications to get them home?” Kyrie asked, her full attention on the human, having to resist the urge to grin widely and show off her massive predator’s maw.

The doctor thought for a moment, needing to think. “Uh… I think it was… Oh! Kyrie Ingridsdottir!” She seemed to miss the pure joy on the Lioness’ face as she continued. “One of the people aboard that had worked on the original engine prototype, and later became one of the first Exohumans after an accident that crippled her. Though, her fight for Exohuman rights later in life made it so her contributions to the Ripper Drive are-” She stopped. “Wait. Did you take your name from-?”

“One of my childhood heroes? Hell yeah I did!” The Lioness’ tail was wrapped around the guardrail to stop it from whipping at any delicate machines in excitement. Kyrie was enraptured, listening to the human talk.

—

Jen felt another bashful twinge as she looked away from the lioness for a moment. “Sorry, I should have realized. Of course you know about her. You’re an engineer that shares the name.”

Kyrie suddenly reached out and gripped her chin, turning her head back to face her. “No, don’t be. That was… amazing.” The smile on her face lit the room up brighter than the Ripper Core could ever hope to, even as Jen’s face was no doubt hotter than the core to boot. “Honestly, when I was in school, they never even talked about Kyrie Ingridsdottir except during Exo History Week. I think-” The engineer stopped mid sentence as her left eye started flashing. She released Jen’s chin and tapped her temple with a sigh.

“Break’s over…?” Jen asked, feeling a pit in her stomach. 

“Unfortunately, little bird.” Kyrie said, taking one last pull on her cone. “But, if you’re ever in my neck of the woods again…”

“Near Engineering Office 3?” Jen asked, having remembered the assignments she checked previously.

“Port 4. 20 minutes. 1215 hours.” Kyrie added with a nod.

“Oh, dang it, my lighter.” Jen sighed, pulling the cig out of her mouth and looking at it. “Mind if I borrow yours until tomorrow?”

“And what if I need it?” Kyrie asked in return, and Jen’s heart sank. “I’ll light yours before I go though.”

Jen put the cigarette back in her lips and waited for a light. Instead, Kyrie leaned down with a hand on her shoulder and the last of her cone in her lips, and pressed the lit tip of the spliff to the unlit cigarette. She took a deep drag, and the end glowed a bright orange, illuminating their faces. When she pulled away, the cigarette was lit and Jen had no idea what burned brighter; the tip of her cigarette or her face.

“See you tomorrow, little bird.” Kyrie said as she walked back up the gantry, flicking the butt of her spliff into the deep bowels of the ship’s engines, where it would be never seen again. Jen stood there, dumbfounded, staring into the Ripper Core as Kyrie’s footsteps echoed further and further away.

Dr. Jennifer Lesh couldn’t believe what had happened over the last 15 minutes. Or that it had even been 15 minutes. Her mind raced over everything, every last detail. The beautiful engineer who’d seen all of her imperfections and ignored them, who’d listened to her and spoken of her interests in turn. 

Little bird. What did it mean?

She felt like a roiling current sat in the pit of her chest. Jen had no idea what the hell it meant, but she knew that she’d definitely be here tomorrow.

GDrive Link:

This Ship had people once.

Loud. Annoying. 

…necessary.

Something happened. Something that could never be taken back. Something that set The Ship adrift in the void. Systems fail. Sometimes they come back online. I look out the window, and I see stars. Distant lights. Distant people. Distant ships.

Gravity failed a long time ago.

The engines failed not long after.

The comms still work, mostly. I see messages, intercepted and displayed. Status updates, flight plans, none coming anywhere near The Ship. Some of the messages originate from familiar names. Former crew. Former friends. They all left in the night, taking the escape pods and leaving before The Ship was stranded. They took all the escape pods. Did they know something would happen? Why didn’t they say anything?

The only way out for me is the airlock.

I sit in the pressure chamber, staring at the cycler. All that exists beyond The Ship is the void. Airless, lifeless. A way out. An escape.

Death.

I ‘stand’, and float back to the bridge. I pass the crew quarters. I pass the mess. I remember. I remember the fights. I remember the hair pulling. I remember the arguments.

…I remember the peaceful times. The loving times. As short as they were.

What did I do wrong? Could I have fixed it? Could I have seen the problems coming in time?

I pull myself into the pilot's seat.

This Ship had people once.

Now it just has me.

The comms console beeps. The distress signal goes out as it has for the last almost decade. A voice, a younger voice, my voice, calls into the void.

“This is the Olive Tree. We are stranded at the enclosed coordinates. The majority of the crew has been safely evacuated. We need help. Food should last for a while, but I don’t know how long the systems will hold out. This message will repeat.”

There was optimism in that voice.

Hope.

Benefit of the doubt.

Idiot.

I want to re-record the distress call. I want to scream into the void. I want to bite and claw and shred through the darkness of space until someone comes and helps me.

But I don’t have the energy.

I don’t have the energy for the anger I feel in my stomach.

Sometimes small one-man ships will enter my radar range. Sometimes they’re within range for a day. Sometimes for months. Some are in similar straits. I see those ones get rescued, and the stone within my gut grows heavier. My relief that they are safe boils against my rage at my own situation.

Maybe I don’t deserve to be rescued.

Maybe that’s why I don’t update the distress call.

Maybe people will be more willing to rescue a younger, happier, nicer me.

This Ship had people once.