Piece Simul ✔

Chapter 7-Russ-Bad Dreams

It was lights-out.

Except tonight, the crew would retire to the dura-chambers. There they would stay for three months before reaching the first jump-point, and hopefully the first planet.

Russ stressed about these details as she finished tightening the last of the chamber straps. Everything about their journey rested on the theoretical, on formulas created by people like Guin.

Forster helped Guin with her straps, hands lingering here and there. She smiled down at him, a secret smile. Russ looked away.

She hoped the pair of them put a quits to the distraction, before she had to say anything.

Jason had already forced her into an awkward position minutes before by trying to kiss her. Perhaps inspired by Tiptree's lurid story about Guin and Forster, Jason caught her by the elbow  on the way the chambers.

"What?"

He tugged her face towards his, until Russ pushed him away.

"No. Just...what are you doing?"

Hurt flashed across his face, but Jason just shrugged.

"You're basically family. I can't," she said.

Russ thought she sounded full of excuses, but it was the truth. She wasn't keen on making out with a family member.

"Yeah, I know," he said, rushing off before she could respond.

Working on the last of the chamber straps, Russ sighed at the memory.

"Worried about bad dreams?" Jason appeared in front of her, the wet-suit adding definition to his bulky frame.

Though Russ was fitted with a similar suit, she suddenly felt very exposed. The straps held her in place, and now, she felt like fleeing.

"Jason, look---"

"See ya on the other side," he told her with a grin. Then he sauntered to his chamber, stepping quickly into the straps.

Three months was a long time. Russ hoped it was long enough to dispel the awkwardness between them.

Once all main and secondary crew were suited and strapped in, Forster ordered the Control bot to depress the chamber button.

Though Russ knew of the dura-chamber process, seeing and knowing were two different things.

Fifteen particle curtains descended concurrently. As the training had explained, the curtain was a visual barrier, but not a physical one. Sure, it held back dura-fluid, but human limbs, not so much. That's what the straps were for. Any arms, legs, fingers, or heads sticking outside of the field were prone to advanced aging.

Russ's straps were pulled tight, but not uncomfortably so. Still, she checked to make sure every body party was safely tucked behind the curtain. It was.

Fluid poured into the chamber, splashing up at her toes. She cried out, but not because it was cold. Surprisingly, it was room temperature. The liquid swirled with bubbles and specks of nutrients. By the time the rosy-colored stuff had reached her rib-cage, Russ decided she'd rather risk atrophy than go through this again.

When the fill-line rose past her nose, she took a deep breath.

~*~

11 years before

Drip.

The water was a constant.

Russ couldn't remember a time when the pipe in the corner wasn't dripping.