Many thanks to Kokodoru for the beta-reading!
The next time Luka was conscious enough to be able to think, it was likely entire rotations later. She was only vaguely aware that she had been sedated a few times, that she had kicked and screamed and cried, that she had likely been operated on, treated. She was only vaguely aware of the bandages on her face, of the plate in her mouth that pushed her tongue down, keeping it immobile, of the tube that had been forced down her throat and that stuck out from between her lips. She was only vaguely aware of the restraints, the beeping of the machine, the huge brace on her torso, the clean linens of a hospital bed, the quiet room with the soothing light.
When a nurse entered the room, she blinked lazily, letting her head loll towards her.
"Luka?" the woman asked. The scavenger couldn't make out her features. The picture looked off. "Ah, you're awake. How are we feeling today?"
Luka closed an eye. Only then was she aware of the fact that the other one had been bandaged over, that the plate and the tube weren't the only things preventing her from speaking: her entire face had been wrapped up tight.
"It's normal if you feel drowsy: you've been administered a generous helping of painkillers, but we're starting to reduce the dose," the nurse explained, approaching. "If you feel you need more, you can press this button here."
A small box was placed into her hand. Luka squeezed it but didn't press down on the button.
Miku was gone.
She sighed. It was meant to be a scream.
"We understand you don't have any funds or insurance," the nurse went on. "We were given just enough money to make sure you don't drop dead. There was a little surplus we decided to put into basic orthodontic work, to ensure future quality of life. But tomorrow, we're letting you go."
This time, she pushed the button. A coil within her unraveled in anticipation. She felt goosebumps rise against the tight bandages.
What a familiar feeling.
"Your internal bleeding has been treated. Your most important fractures have been tended to. Sadly, we were not given enough for significant aesthetic work, so we recommend seeing a face surgeon when you can. Your teeth have been found and reinserted though, and your tongue is in the process of growing back."
Luka swallowed, or wanted to, found that she couldn't. Her tongue felt numb.
"Your older bullet injury should recover in a few rotations. It had been healing well, but the recent trauma has upset it. We recommend wearing a firm brace for at least two rotations to let it calm down, and then a sling at least for a cycle or two just to make sure it settles nicely. Do you have any questions?"
The scavenger nodded, sighed when the painkiller washed over her.
"We will be prescribing medication for the pain: the skin around your fractures will be tender, not to mention the fractures themselves. They won't fall apart and should finish healing without any cast, but please don't apply any stress or test the limits. Your bullet wound is sensitive, and you can expect to feel pain from your abdomen for the next two or three cycles, so please refrain from strenuous physical activity. We will prescribe something to help accelerate healing, both for bone and soft tissue. We can also recommend several face surgeons for aesthetic work if you wish."
She shook her head.
"Very well. Tomorrow morning, we will be seeing how your tongue has grown. Only the top two centimeters of it were missing, so nothing too drastic. Odds are that it has either grown in excess, in which case we will recommend surgery. It is also likely that it has not grown enough, in which case we will prescribe some medication and advise speech therapy. But don't worry, most of the time, it comes back just fine."
Luka pushed the button again.
"After that, your things will be returned to you: your clothes have been washed, free of charge. Your ship is, apparently, waiting for you in the dock. Do you already own a brace or sling?"
She nodded.
"Good. We won't have to sell you one. We recommend you put it on the moment you get to your ship."
Another nod.
"Do you need a doctor's note for work?"
A shake of the head.
"Would you like us to contact any friends, family?"
Another shake.
"Any other questions?"
A nod.
"Let's see… You have a fracture on your skull, your left brow, your right cheekbone. Your nose was broken, there's a hairline fracture in your left shoulder blade and the left side of your ribcage. What else would you like to know?"
Luka made a vague motion with her right hand.
"You may travel in space, provided your ship is equipped with a grav system calibrated to your weight and height. Still, we don't recommend any strenuous activity for a variety of reasons. Please, rest, let yourself heal, find some money or insurance and see a facial surgeon to find out what they can do for your brow and cheekbone. Otherwise, there is little else we can do for you."
She made another vague motion, all more the incomprehensible: the painkillers were hitting her hard.
"There is no drop off: you will leave the hospital through our front doors. If you need help with the oxygen mask, we will provide that free of charge, but see an employee at the port to get help removing it."
Another gesture.
"There is a bus to the port a five-minute walk down the street. If you walk straight to the port, however, that will take you an hour."
Finally, Luka's hand fell.
"Anything else?"
A shake of the head. The nurse watched her for a moment, lingering at her side. Or it felt like she lingered; the passage of time started to melt, consciousness stopped making sense.
"Do you have a history of addiction with these painkillers?"
Luka could only nod.
"In that case…" the sound of a pen scraping against paper was momentarily very loud, and the feeling of the box being removed from her hand almost hurt. "I will send an anesthesiologist to consider better options for you. I will also include a prescription to help prevent a relapse."
Luka groaned.
"Wonderful. There is a big red button next to your bed if you need anything else. I'll be sure that the anesthesiologist brings a chart to help with communication. Rest well, Luka."
All she wanted was to press the button again. But her hand was empty, and she felt nothing but pain.
The next morning, Luka was unpacked. First, all the bandages were peeled off, from the ones around her face to those that enveloped her torso. The stronger ones, which kept her cheekbone, brow, nose, collarbone, rib cage, and shoulder blade in place, were pried off with some effort. After that, her mouth was opened, the plate that kept her tongue down removed, and with a few deep breaths, the feeding tube was coaxed up from her esophagus and out of her throat. Her tongue was examined, and the doctor proudly declared that it had grown back correctly, but still recommended therapy in case she had trouble talking and eating.
As they worked, she got the full rundown once again. The fractures had been made to heal for the most part, but hadn't fully set. Her internal bleeding wouldn't kill her any longer, but the aftermath would hurt her for a long time. Her old wound had been upset, noticeably so, but apparently, it wasn't too far from recovery. Only her mouth had fully healed during her stay, all teeth accounted for and a new tongue grown to size, even if it still felt somewhat green.
They handed her a slip with the prescriptions: the heavy-duty painkiller she already had half a bottle of, medication that helped with bone mending, medication that helped with scarring and would accelerate the healing process of tissue, medication that would stave off the desperate hunger she had started feeling since they'd swapped out the sweet drug that had been siphoned into her bloodstream. Along with the prescription was a list of names, face surgeons, speech therapists, addiction counselors. There was also a doctor's note, advising that she not work for a full two months.
With that, she was dressed in her cleaned clothes, a mask was latched to her face, and she was promptly seen out the door.
The pages were immediately discarded.
She had no money for any of that.
She just had no money.
She walked to the ship, keeping her bad arm close to her torso.
All the posters were gone. Nobody looked twice at her pink hair, her stiff walk.
At the port, she approached an employee so that they could help pry the mask from her face. Upon asking about the whereabouts of her ship:, she learned that it had been parked elsewhere, for longer-duration stays. She had indeed been out for three full rotations. After taking an elevator up to another floor and slowly, carefully reading the numbers, she neared one of the closed doors.
She needed to speak, but her tongue felt like a limb she still needed to get acquainted with.
"R-Ruko?"
"You have returned," the AI said, the door immediately opening. "I did not know when to expect you, so I had set myself to sleep until you spoke my name."
"Ok."
By then, the door had opened. Luka stepped in, stopping in the doorway.
"I have done basic cleaning while you were away," the AI informed her. "The blood and vomit has been removed and the area sanitized."
She nodded, but only out of pure courtesy: the sight in front of her broke her heart in two.
The interior was a mess. Her clothes were everywhere, as were her tools. Her bed had been torn to shreds, the mattress stabbed and gutted, while paneling was strewn over the floor, hanging from loose screws.
She suppressed a sob, the pressure of the action translating into a stab of pain in her gut.
"I have also done some updates," Ruko went on. "Basic firmware and security. And, since Miku had mentioned it, I have downloaded all I can about human medical knowledge. Considering recent events, I have also reinstalled the therapy package."
"...Great."
The ship didn't reply for a moment, before the lights dimmed somewhat.
"I am sorry I failed to warn you of the ambush," Ruko said, voice low. "They had cut my communications first. By the time I knew who was at my door, it was too late. They forced their way into my system. I could not stop them."
"It's not your fault," she whispered. "We didn't really stand a chance to begin with..."
"Perhaps not."
Luka sighed, stepped forward. "Close the door."
"Understood."
"Help me clean up. Tools go on my workbench. I'll focus on my clothes. Then get all the paneling back in place."
"Very well."
Short arms emerged from the walls, each outfitted with a grabber. All were low, coming out of the wall at around knee-height, at right angles, the 'elbow' of each arm a meter from the wall, bending only when they were fully extended. Then, they whirred and whirled, working the tools closer and closer to the workbench, where two arms picked them up and placed them on the table.
In the meantime, Luka slowly, so slowly, kneeled to the floor to pick up her clothes. Most of it wasn't torn. Some of it, though, was tailored to a smaller size. Useless to her either way.
She swallowed another sob, placing each salvageable garment on her bed, crawling to another pile to repeat the process there when she was done. When all the tools were off the floor, she heard Ruko start bending panels back into place, picking them up and screwing them in, while she was still on the floor, picking up pants, shirts, hoodies.
Under her blanket, she found Dexter.
He had been cut into two, from nose to tail.
She choked on the sob as she tried to force it down. She picked him up, only for the stuffing to fall out of the fabric in clumps, the limbs flopping around.
The Dexterok had been reduced to a small, pathetic little pelt. A miniature rug in two pieces.
She painstakingly rose to her feet, chucked the Dexterok into the trash bin.
"Can you mend my bed?"
"I can try."
"Please."
While two arms started pushing at the stuffing and springs, stitching the mattress haphazardly, Luka slowly folded her laundry, then placed it into her dresser. The clothes that had been torn, she placed in a separate pile to mend later. Those that had been damaged beyond repair joined Dexter in the trash.
It felt like it took an eternity. Even with that done, however, she was far from finished. She sat down at her workbench and continued the work there, slowly and carefully putting all the tools back where they belonged. Some of the drawers had been cracked, so she marked those to fix at some point.
Task completed, her ship was finally clean again. Somehow, she barely recognized it. It felt so empty, so unsafe.
"Give me a rundown," she whispered.
"All systems nominal," Ruko announced, their cheer carefully dosed. "Fuel cells are at 90%. Oxygen supply is full. Water supply is at 90%. Provisions are sufficient for a four-month trip."
She nodded. "Let's go get fuel."
Ruko didn't move, however.
"Do we have the means?" they carefully asked.
Luka inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly.
"I guess not."
After a moment, the AI informed her, "Your deed to your planet is on the dashboard."
The scavenger looked over: indeed, the white page was sitting there between all the buttons and levers.
She stood, shuffled over, picked it up.
There it was. Her own planet.
She had no way of reaching it.
She had no way of settling it.
Luka started shaking slightly.
"I understand that you have visited a hospital?" Ruko asked carefully.
"Yeah."
"What do they recommend?"
"Brace. Painkillers. I can't afford the other meds they prescribed."
"I recommend putting on the brace and taking the medication you have."
"Yeah."
"Do we have a destination?"
Luka didn't reply, shuffling over to her dresser, getting the huge, firm medical brace from where she had stowed it away. Slowly, so slowly, she put it on over her clothing. It had never been more uncomfortable. Then, as sluggish as ever, she swallowed one of the high-grade painkillers. She yearned for different stuff, that would take the mental pain away as well as the physical, that would make everything be alright.
"I recommend lying down: in half an hour, you will lose your inhibitions."
"Yeah."
"Are we staying here for a while?"
Luka sat on her bed. It was lumpy, but not because of cash.
"No."
"Do we have a destination?"
"I... I need to go to Meiko."
"Setting a course for Terranova," Ruko said. "Estimated arrival in three rotations."
She heard the ship interface with the dock, how the seal was broken. She saw the towers fly by as they gained altitude, the spires going on and on and on, the ship taking entirely far too long to leave the planet even as their speed grew to the kilometers per second.
"I recommend laying down," Ruko said. "I will be engaging interstellar boosters soon."
She heard them warming up, saw the stars of space move and shift in the sky. She heard the whole ship, sounds she had gotten used to over years and years of living in solitude. She saw the ship, recognized every nook and cranny, every little angle she had hammered to fit, every seam she had soldered herself, torn apart and hastily reassembled.
Worst of all, she heard and saw how alone she was.
Miku was nowhere to be found.
Miku was far, far away.
Luka laid down, strapped herself in.
"Yeah."
The ship lurched forward as it accelerated, and all Luka could do was stare at the ceiling and listen to the roar.
Getting to Terranova was an undefined, endless blur, each agonizing second stretched out into hours. When Luka wasn't loopy and bedridden from the drugs, she fixed all the things that Ruko couldn't. In those moments where she needed the mental clarity, she cried at the throbbing of her face and skull, the pangs in her abdomen. Getting up, sitting down, hunger, sighing, all those things hurt. Showering, getting changed, changing her bandage hurt. While she sewed, she pricked her fingers. While she tinkered, she slashed and crushed them.
She couldn't even notice, even as the layers of band-aids started piling up. Feeling the old hunger for drugs, one she had thought she had left behind, was like the final insult to all her injuries, and it plagued her every conscious second.
What struck her the most was the silence. The silence wouldn't stop, the hum of the boosters her only company, the echo of her groans her only reply. Ruko wasn't made for conversation. They warned her of her smaller injuries as they cumulated, recommended bandage after bandage, updated her of their progress towards Terranova, answered questions, sometimes doing so before Luka asked, but nothing more. The therapy package they had installed did mean that they talked a bit more; while it helped them coach her back to sleep when she woke shaking from fear, and helped her hold fast against the yearning burning every nerve in her body, once emergencies had been handled or they had done what had been asked, Ruko was mute. Aside from her tools, Luka had no companions, nothing to kill the quiet.
It was just like old times. Luka had spent years traveling through space mending, tinkering, counterfeiting, plotting in near-total silence. This wasn't the first time she was heading to Terranova, tail between her legs, with only silence to keep her company.
It felt different.
The three rotations' trip to Crypton, five rotation stay, three rotations trip back, that totaled to eleven rotations, just over two cycles away from Terranova. Meiko's vacation would have ended. It would still be summer, though. All the kids would be home. Luka didn't want to think of them, how they might react to her.
Luka didn't dare look in the mirror. She felt disfigured. Although all her teeth were in place and her new tongue was slowly warming up to her, she didn't dare touch her brow and cheek, check if they were where she expected them to be. To look? She had seen what the assault had done to her abdomen; while the bullet wound didn't leak any longer, it was red and inflamed, and the bulk of her skin was covered in large, purple splotches. She didn't want to know what they had done to her face.
A hoodie had been hanging over the mirror since her first bathroom trip.
"We are arriving in Terranova soon," Ruko droned at one point. "May I inquire about our new long-term plans?"
"They haven't changed: get money, settle my paradise, get lost."
"What are our short-term plans at Terranova?"
The scavenger dropped the drawer she had been fixing one-handedly.
"I need help," she quietly admitted. "I'm still pretty beaten up, so I'll stay at Meiko's for a bit and recover. With some luck, she'll lend me money for a new bed and fuel. Once that's done, I guess I need to get back to work."
"Shall I start a new shopping list?"
"Yeah. The mattress, fuel, those are top priority. I won't find any soldering things there, but maybe some clothes."
"There are no Dexteroks on Terranova, but there is reason to believe that there are other stuffed variants of large local wildlife for sale."
Her jaw clenched. "I don't need a new stuffed animal."
"Dexter was destroyed."
"Yeah."
"I highly recommend getting a new one. The use of—"
"I have no use for a fucking toy!" Luka spat, pain jolting through her gut.
Ruko stayed quiet for a moment, long enough to make the woman believe that the AI had discarded the idea, and resumed her work on the drawer, placing it in a vice.
"I disagree," the AI said, their voice splitting the silence.
Luka, poised to hammer in a nail, simply let her arm drop to the table. "Why."
"Ever since you have been given the Dexterok, your resting heart rate has decreased and your serotonin and oxytocin levels have increased. I strongly recommend obtaining a similar object—"
"There's no point, Ruko," she seethed.
"Factually, there is. The health benefits are well researched and understood."
"I won't die because I'm not getting a bigger serotonin dose. Drop it."
"It may not kill you, but related factors—"
"The toy won't do squat."
"I understand that Dexter's arrival overlapped with Miku's presence, and that may skew the data somewhat. However, the toy's arrival caused a marked change towards the pos—"
"Miku isn't here anymore!" Luka barked. "There's nobody to bother me! There's nobody to shut out anymore! I'm alone again, exactly as I always wished to be, so I don't need my fucking fake therapy pet!"
"Are you suggesting that we must retrieve Miku first?"
"No!" she snapped, her body punishing her for her outburst. She froze, caught her breath, and continued, saying, "We parted ways. It's a good thing. We agreed that it would be the best thing that could happen, for both of us."
"Do you know of her fate?"
The scavenger dropped the hammer. "No. But she... She's a big girl. She can take care of herself."
"That is true," the AI conceded, tone cautious.
"This... This is the best way things could have ended," Luka said. "The Shion have had their revenge. I'm free as a bird, I have my planet, and Miku is... Well, she's free from me too. All I need to do is get some money so I can settle my paradise."
She picked up the hammer again, but only to turn it over in her hand, looking at it from all angles, yet she hardly even saw it.
"Sure, I'm not set for life anymore. Which sucks. I'll probably have to keep at this for the rest of my days," she went on with a slight snarl. "But I'm alone again. I'm happy. And I bet, I just bet that in a few years, even I'll hear of this brilliant new diva, the Electric Angel who sings better than anybody else ever has, admired and loved by all..."
Ruko listened and didn't reply for a while. "We will not be finding Miku, then."
"No."
"And you will not be replacing the Dexterok."
"No."
"You will recover from your trauma and start again," Ruko summed up. "As if nothing happened."
"As if nothing happened," Luka echoed. "That's the plan."
"Very well."
Luka finished fixing her drawer, slid it back into place, tested it, then placed all of the little bits and baubles it was supposed to contain back into it.
"You disagree," she deadpanned.
"Yes."
She waited, eventually saying, "Ok."
"I have already stated my reasons. You have acknowledged them and have made your decision."
She looked up at the ceiling of her ship. In truth, she knew Ruko wasn't centralized to a location, but...
"Right."
Ruko didn't reply. Luka stared, waited, eyes roaming the ship. Her bandaged fingers tapped the surface of the table. After a moment, she stood and made her way to the dashboard where the mug with the flower stood fast.
The buttons and levers of the dashboard were brightly lit. She hardly had any use for them, since Ruko did most of the piloting for her. In case they broke down or went offline, she could maneuver the aircraft herself, or at least she would if she had both her arms.
There were lights and knobs and screens all around the dashboard, too. There were all the radios she used, various detection methods for space or on-planet, that one box that perpetually pointed towards the closest information relay, so many toys and tools that helped her in her career.
She fidgeted, staring at the buttons, before turning back to face the rest of the ship.
"You are looking for something?" Ruko asked. "I can help you retrieve it."
She shook her head. The laundry corner of her ship had a few lights when it was in process, but all her clothes were clean right then. Her kitchen had several lights, for the microwave, the rehydrator. The space suit repair bay also lit up, but only when it was busy.
Her ship was rather dark all told, if it weren't for the bright ambient lights, simulating daytime.
"They have found all the money you had hidden," Ruko tried.
"We went over that."
"Yes. But I cannot guess what else you might be looking for."
"I'm not looking for anything."
"Understood."
Luka's eyes took in the ship. She saw here and there, the small speakers that played Ruko's voice, along with other noises, alarms, music if she wanted. There were also the small cameras that let the AI visually see the space.
The scavenger slowly returned to the workbench and took a seat there.
"How much longer until we arrive in Terranova?"
"Fourteen hours. We will be arriving shortly before dawn."
"Ok."
"Shall I prepare your entry ticket?"
"Yeah. With my real ID."
"Of course. Reason for stay?"
"Family visit."
"For how long?"
"Let's say a cycle. Give or take."
"Very well."
Luka waited for a solid ten seconds. "I've never planned to stay there for so long before."
"I am aware."
When it was clear that the ship didn't intend to add anything, she added, "I hope it'll go alright."
"That would be favorable."
She pulled at the drawers, as if she were making sure that they all slid flawlessly, double-checking her work.
"I hope I'm not too disfigured for the kids."
"Your facial symmetry has hardly been compromised."
Luka bit down a chuckle, which sent a wave of pain through her abdomen. "Ok."
"You do need to let the swelling pass."
"Yeah." After another bout of silence, she said, "I hope Meiko won't be too mad."
"There is no way to know in advance."
She glanced up at the ceiling again, opened her mouth, then closed it.
"I think I'll be going to bed."
"That will be wise. I shall dim the lights."
"Sure."
"Sleep well, Luka."
"Yeah."