Document No.: 004
Subject: Out in the real world
Date: 6/12/2382
Location: The Black Cat, Red Ridge outskirts,
New Sahara, Mars
Annie lay in the narrow crawlspace of the cable corridor, wondering yet again what she was doing there. It was dusty, and the heat of Mars had crept into the ship and begun permeating every metal surface, so even this enclosed space felt like a mild sauna. Her sweat was like a glue that stuck her exposed skin to the walls and floor of the tiny corridor from time to time, and she regretted not heeding Skipper’s advice to wear a long-sleeve shirt and pants despite the heat.
Turns out he knows what he’s talking about, she reminded herself with a sigh.
“Okay, heading down!” she called up the vertical shaft just beyond her.
Annie shook herself a little to ensure she had the clearance to move properly, and also to make sure the data cable strapped to her ankle was moving freely. She was Skipper’s apprentice, as evidenced by the still-raw and healing scars on her forearm. Thus, any work relating to the cockpit fell on the pair of them.
No way he’s coming down these little rabbit-holes, she sniffed to herself, and started crawling forward. She had just descended the vertical conduit from the cockpit, and now she was moving along a horizontal corridor that traversed the ceiling of the hold. Her knees and elbows were getting rubbed raw by both the grated steel floor and the mess of cables that she had to crawl across. As she went, she bound up the different sorts of cable into their more easily identified groups. Because I’ll definitely be back in here at some point.
The commando crawl took her forever. She had only been on her feet for a couple of weeks after the hallucination-inducing trip she had gone on while fighting an infection from the cuts. No. Not an infection, she corrected herself. Venom. I can’t believe what has happened to me.
After navigating an excruciating twenty-metres on her knees and elbows, Annie finally reached a vertical drop. The ceiling of the corridor was far too low for her to get up and let herself down. Even on her knees and elbows, she was repeatedly bumping her shoulders against the roof. Thankfully, this was as far as she had to go.
Reaching agonisingly behind her while also bringing her ankle as far forward as the cramped space would allow, Annie detached the cable from herself and pulled it forward, giving herself plenty of slack in the line before beginning to feed it directly down.
“What took you so long?” demanded an indignant young woman’s voice from below. A slender, but well-toned arm reached into the cable space down at deck level, tattooed fingers grabbing at the cable as soon as it was within reach.
“I’m not used to crawling around on my elbows and knees!” retorted Annie. “Just wait until Dendrite makes you go crawling around under the deck, Tati!”
“I have already had the pleasure, was good workout,” responded the girl from down below. “You need more muscle and stamina. I will happily make you strong.”
Annie shivered to herself. The offer sounded like a threat in her ears.
“I’m … er … heading back now,” she called, trying to sound like someone in charge.
The journey back took longer and was far harder on not only her elbows and knees, but her core as well. There was no room to turn around, so she commando crawled backwards twenty metres before having to gradually and painfully manoeuvre herself up into the vertical conduit that would take her back to the cockpit.
She finally emerged; sweaty, streaked with rivulets of the dust she had accumulated, her elbows and knees creased and aching from repeatedly coming down on and then rolling off cables, and her core burning with the heat of the unexpected betrayal in the form of exercise. Her sapphire eyes simmered with an attitude that was not outright dissension, but still spicy enough to be noted. As she extricated herself from the corridor, she sat down on the cockpit deck and immediately set about pulling her newly dyed brown hair up out of her eyes and redoing her ponytail. With a sigh to relieve some of the accumulated petulance, she turned her glum stare up at Skipper.
“All done, Skipper,” she reported. “Tati has the end.”
“Indeed,” murmured the big reptile, seated in his great throne of a seat and craning his serpentine neck around to grace her with his attention. “Bring our end to me.”
Annie hauled herself with great effort back to her feet and delivered the four or so metres of slack at their end to Skipper. One of his four hands took it gently from her, and she had to hold back a snort at how stupidly small the cable looked in his hand, like a man holding a length of yarn.
“Come,” Skipper commanded, one of his free hands pointing to the footwell beneath him. “You must begin to know your way around your new home.”
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“Skipper,” Annie acknowledged wearily, ducking back down to her hands and knees and scooting in under the dash. Skippers legs were like tree trunks on either side of her, and despite it being a deceptively large space, his limbs gave her barely room to sit.
The morning passed with her sweating away beneath the console, working muscles she never even knew she had due to the awkward angle required to pry out old parts and then fasten new ones. By the end of it, her shoulders ached, her upper arms quivered with a forced weakness she had never experienced in her life, and she barely managed to crawl back out.
Skipper stared down at her, curiosity stamped across his snake-like features. Somehow, everything about his expression was reflected in his eyes.
“Mankind truly is fragile,” he noted, as if for his own sake.
For a moment, Annie thought Skipper might actually jot it down for posterity, but he merely pondered the implications for a moment before rising from his pilot’s seat – more of a lounge, in Annie’s eyes – and stepping away from the controls.
“What’s next, Skipper?” Annie asked with all the enthusiasm she could muster. It wasn’t much.
“The sun and my belly tells me it is time for lunch,” Skipper advised in his dour fashion, while staring at her as if she should know as much. “You must listen to your body and to what you are capable of observing of nature. It is always trying to inform us of blessing and warn us of calamity, if we only have the wit to understand.”
“I’m just a Zenith brat,” Annie pouted, more or less self-aware of how bratty she had just appeared.
“Now,” Skipper corrected her. He thought for a long moment, and then shrugged. “Yes, you may end up being a brat all your life … some people just have that energy,” he admitted as if it were no fault of her own. “But at least you will not always be a Zenith brat,” he chuckled in his sibilant way. He gestured for her to take her pouting face down the manhole – or, as Annie liked to call it, the snakehole – and descend into the hold.
“I suppose I walked straight into that one,” she muttered, swinging herself down onto the ladder as she had done dozens of times now. She barely caught herself as intended, her limbs and core erupting in protest at her careless dramatics. Far out … that was almost bad … and right after Skipper finished telling me to listen to my body! Just … careful, Annie!
She made it down to the hold’s deck in a more serene manner, just as Tati was closing up the large junction box and putting away the electrical tools. The platinum blonde glanced over at her, a little smirk on her lips.
“I am still getting used to looking you in eye,” she chuckled, appraising Annie’s entire being as if she were a rare commodity. “When shall we get a Meteor Runner inked on your back?”
“Ugh, no thanks,” Annie protested, moving away from the ladder so Skipper could descend like a small mountain. She gave her arms and legs a quick rinse at the wash-down station, and felt a good deal more positive after that. Her muscles still burned though.
“Party pooper,” smirked Tati.
“Stop your bickering,” Skipper sighed, moving past them and on towards the cargo ramp. His tread could be felt through the deck.
“What about Dendrite and Jane?” asked Annie, managing to keep up with Skipper at a brisk walk. Her frame had stretched by nearly a full ten centimetres during her fever, and she had practically needed to relearn to walk when she regained consciousness. Her legs still ached viciously with little provocation from time to time, and she had been told that was simply the aftereffects of the rapid growth. Even now, she had a tendency to trip over her own ankles and barked her elbows on edges and corners that, once at a safe distance, were now within impact range.
“They will go later,” Skipper rasped. “We do not leave the ship unattended. And they must still check Tati’s work and ensure everything is functional. We do not depart until they sign off on the maintenance.”
Tati threw a flannel shirt on over her light singlet, buttoning it up to hide the majority of her ink. Annie had never seen tattoos to the extent that Tati was covered in them. Art of varying quality was etched onto almost every available patch of skin. Only her head was completely ink-free.
“What’s the point of having tattoos if you’re just going to cover them up?” asked Annie in her characteristically obnoxious way.
Tati just smiled thinly in return. “Why did you dye your hair?”
They walked out onto the tarmac, the heat of the sun rebounding off it and practically baking them. It was a massive expanse, with guard towers on the perimeter and an array of communications instruments fenced off with extra security. At the far end of the port, an Ore Runner was gunning its thrusters, slowly, agonisingly, rising from the ground and beginning its turn to face up into the clear, blue sky.
Skipper looked at it derisively as if it were an affront to everything he valued in life. And when they looked back away from the slowly ascending ship, there was a young woman standing in front of them. Her eyes were dark brown, almost black, and her flaxen hair fell in slightly mussed waves to just below her shoulders, were it danced upon the coral cotton dress that she wore. She was staring at each of them in turn, as if trying to make sense of the group dynamic, which consisted of a Viper Caste Disderian and two young women.
“Is this something that is done on Mars?” she asked vacantly, her eyes finally settling on Annie.
“Huh?”
Tati poked Annie gently and whispered in her ear. “I think she wonders if we are all … um … together.”
It still took Annie a moment to figure out what was going on, and when she did, she went bright red.
“What?” she demanded, horrified. “No! Um! What?! Skipper?”
The big snake stare impassively down at the lone blonde, who stared emptily back.
“What do you want?” he asked. “Deception will have consequences.”
The woman cocked her head innocently, despite looking anything but.
“Straight to the point,” she smiled, swirling her coral dress about her knees in a playful manner. “I like that.” She looked around again, as if doing her best to find answers for herself before revealing her hand.
“Have you come across any people of Japanese descent?” she asked at length. There was a small beauty spot underneath her bottom lip, and it kept drawing Annie’s attention. “Specifically … a woman.”
“We have not left the freight yard,” Skipper replied simply.
Honesty … even with a stranger? wondered Annie.
“What about within the freight yard?” asked the woman.
“No,” Skipper replied. “Will there be anything else?”
“Hmm,” the woman sighed, seeming disappointed. “Thank you. It seems I shall have to go into town and continue my search.” She turned on a dazzling smile as if flicking a switch, and it reminded Annie of the people who had wanted something from her on Zenith. “I am very much obliged!” she sang prettily, and then turned and walked quickly away.
“What on Terra was that all about it?” Annie wondered.
“Nothing good,” muttered Tati, her eyes following the woman with a deep distrust.
“Aye,” Skipper hissed, and Annie only realised he had been ready for combat when his spines relaxed and lay flat along his arms and neck once more. “That one is trouble for whoever she is looking for.”

