First Impressions

"Goddamn mother-fucking son of a bitch!"

I put my hand to my forehead and winced. Not only did it sting like hell, which was well worth the string of expletives, the telltale wetness on my fingers had me worried. I don't have a weak stomach or nothing, but I never did like the sight of my own blood, and there's something doubly disconcerting about it floating around the space in front of you like little beads. It just ain't natural.

I grabbed onto whatever was nearest to keep from floating away any further, thinking whatever idiot decided to put a sharp piece of plastic anywhere on the inside of a space-going ship should do the world a favor and take a long walk out a short airlock.

I didn't think there was anyone around until I heard behind me, "Hey, you okay?"

I turned around, holding my head, to tell him, "What do you think?"

It was the kid in dark glasses I'd seen around the mobile suits in back, about sixteen or so, just a few years younger than me. When I moved my hand, his eyebrows jumped behind said glasses. "Shit," he said, and maneuvered himself beside me. "Let me take a look at that."

He pulled a handkerchief out of his overalls pocket, and for a moment I was afraid he was going to stick something already soaked with grease against my forehead. It seemed clean enough when he pulled it away, though, if you don't count the blood. "How the hell did you do that?" he asked me.

Like I really wanted to admit I had lost coordination, overshot the doorway completely and hit my head on an air vent on the wall above it. But I did anyway. Just had to swallow my pride as he laughed it up. "Ah. An Earthlubber, eh?"

"I hate zero-gravity," was my pathetic attempt at a comeback. I couldn't see how he handled it so well.

"You'll get used to it. Humans weren't born with space-legs, you know. They gotta grow 'em. I had an advantage growing up in the Colonies." He pressed the handkerchief hard against the cut, and after I caught my breath I realized he wasn't doing it to be cruel. He wanted me to take it myself. "You're gonna be fine," he said. "Head wounds always bleed like hell, but they usually look a lot worse than they really are."

He extended one hand to me, saying, "You're the new recruit, right? I'm Abdul."

I braced myself so I could take his hand. "Just Abdul?"

"That's all you need to know. You'll find no one really uses their family names around here, except maybe the commander. I guess everyone just figures being a Maguanac is family enough."

I guess I forgot to say something, because he raised his eyebrows at me again.

"It's Auda," I told him.

He smiled broader at that. "Welcome to the Maguanacs, Auda."

Originally published 29 January 2008.