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Collateral-It started like any other night.
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Goose
Mentor (Snipe's sister) drove her back to the biostation. Â On the way they passed a dying goose in the middle of the road. Â Mentor: "We have to go back and put it out of it's misery. Â I'll perform a cervical dislocation on it." Snipe: "Um, okay. Â What's that?" Mentor: "It's when you separate axis from the atlas in the spine. Â It's painless and quick." Snipe: "Um, okay, as long as I don't have to touch it." Mentor (While walking back to the goose): "I hope it dies before we get there. I'm not sure if I can do a cervical dislocation on a goose. Â It was hard enough at vet school when we practiced on chickens." Snipe and Mentor reach the goose. Â The goose has died in the five minutes it took for them to get to it. Â Mentor drags it out of the road. Snipe: "That's so sad." Mentor: "Yeah, it really is." (moment of subdued silence) Snipe and Mentor start walking back to the car. Â Halfway there: Mentor: "You know, I should have conducted the cervical dislocation anyway. Â I need the practice." Snipe: "And the vet student is back."
Full of Stars
It was mildly interesting that the amount of pressure one needs to apply in order to successfully dislocate the skull from the first vertebrae is not unlike a firm handshake, something I haven't experienced in years.
I could have fixed the transdermal diffuser. It was an easy fix, all things considered, if time-consuming. A simple hydraulic leak in the vacuum to get the pentobarbitol flowing. But I had all the time in the world, didn't I? So many things left to experience and discover, innovations left unturned out here in cold unflinching empty space. Well, not empty. Not entirely.
They were part of his project, anyway, and since he wasn't on board anymore I had no reason to keep them around. He didn't name "them", something about it being "easier that way".
"Tae-Joon, give me velocity, location and distance from target destination, please."
Traveling at 120,000 kilometers per hour. Point-seven light years outside of NU-738 system. Target destination is approximately thirty-three light years from present location.
"Thank you, Tae-Joon."
Always please, always thank you. Keeps things civilized.
Certainly, Grant.
They wouldn't even understand their own names anyway, so what's the point, I would ask, and he'd look at me with that classic inscrutable Desmond face, eyebrows all twisted upward as if he were surprised but with eyes settled squarely on mine.
At least Tae-Joon knows what he's called. Puts him above your furry little space experiments.
