Dr Rice looked at Braddon from the screen. She hadn't been able to make it out to Saffron, and was conducting a session remotely.
"So, it has been a while since we have talked." She started with their usual greeting.
"Ha! For you maybe." Braddon scoffed. This time difference is going to take some getting used to.
Dr Rice smiled awkwardly as she continued. "So, what's been happening lately?"
"Oh, you know. Just almost got stranded in a black hole, discovered a new singularity point, and then barely managed to navigate my way through it."
"I guess the mission wasn't as straightforward as we had hoped." She sounded at least somewhat remorseful.
"Yeah, that's one way of putting it." Braddon replied glumly.
"I heard you and Paddy managed the disaster quite well."
Braddon gave a small snort. "Of course he is claiming credit."
Dr Rice frowned. "Did something happen between you and Paddy?"
"What, something other than him almost getting us all killed?"
"Do you blame him for the mission failure?"
"Yes! He knew the risks. We, on the other hand, didn't know what we were getting into. It makes me so mad because he has come out of this a hero. The data is good, he wanted a legacy, and now he has one. He is painted as a victim, and a hero, but he is the one that carefully manipulated us into harm's way! This should never have been a manned mission."
Dr Rice continued to frown slightly. "Do you truly believe that Paddy wanted you all to get trapped in a black hole?"
Braddon sighed. "No, of course not, but he could have used a drone ship. It was his arrogance, his need to be at the centre of this discovery …" Braddon trailed off, his anger was jumbling his thoughts.
Dr Rice interjected, "Paddy is somewhat optimistic. Do you think it could have been an act of wishful thinking, rather than manipulative exploitation?"
"You weren't there!" Braddon snapped, a little harsher than intended.
"No, I wasn't, and I am not trying to say that your interpretation of the events is incorrect. I just want to make sure you are considering all the options, and not just letting your fear direct you."
"It's just, I was sooo excited to get back out there, you know? And then, this happens. What do I do now?" Braddon wanted to look forward to his next mission, his next brawn, to that day in the distant future where all this was behind him and he was happy and content. He wanted to be able to see this ideal future, and plot a path towards it, but when he looked ahead there was only a dark void of unknown.
Dr. Rice interrupted his train of thought, "You keep moving forward, one day at a time. That is all you can do." There was a pause as she waited for Braddon to say something. When he didn't she continued. "Remember how you mentioned that you were anxious about choosing a brawn?"
Braddon let out a long sigh as his mind wandered back to the present. "Of course."
"Has this changed at all? Do you feel ready to choose?"
He thought for a bit. "No, definitely not."
"I know my last recommendation didn't exactly go as planned, but there is a name I came by a couple of months ago that I think you might find interesting. It wouldn't have to be a permanent assignment, just a few simple missions around colonised space. Test the waters, see how you cope. You could call it off at any time."
"Can I have that in writing?" He asked sarcastically. CenCom was known for charging large fines for brawn reassignment as well as mission abandonment.
"Of course." She sent through a surprisingly liberal contract. CenCom must be feeling bad for the almost getting swallowed by a black hole thing. Probably hoping that I don't try to sue them. He had also noticed a significant danger bonus in his newly reinstated account, despite there being no such clause in the mission brief. Not that he was objecting. Maybe I could squeeze them for more money? He thought briefly. No, I still need to work with these people.
"The mission?" He asked dryly.
"Satellite maintenance." Well, that sounds sufficiently dull. He had had enough of exciting missions.
"Ok, you have my interest. Fixing satellites sounds marginally more enjoyable than sitting around Saffron." He knew it was the wrong attitude to have, but the spark was missing, as if swallowed by the black hole. And after all that I barely managed to get a single good holo!
"Also, this new brawn better not start with a P, I am done with being the PB-1070!" Dr. Rice looked at him, concern clearly showing through her usually controlled expression.
"You don't have to worry about Xanther. I researched her thoroughly and she checks out. This time will be better." Braddon wanted to believe her, but was finding it rather difficult. After that last mission, trusting her judgement was becoming more difficult.
"I was wondering if you had another recommendation for me?" He asked timidly.
Dr Rice looked puzzled. "What type of recommendation?"
"One for a new Psychologist." There was an awkward silence for a moment.
"It is your right." She said solemnly. "I'll send you some names."
She was hard to read at the best of times, but she didn't look particularly upset. He felt like he needed to explain. "You have been doing a great job really, it's just, well, you sent me on that mission! I know it wasn't your fault, but, I just want to try someone else."
"Braddon, it is ok. This happens all the time. You need to find someone you can trust, someone who's style works for you. And you can always come back if you change your mind. You have my number after all." She gave a small half grin.
Sometimes it bugged him just how well adjusted she was, it made him feel inferior by comparison.
"Sure, thanks. For everything." She smiled and he cut the link. How could she do that? Smile cheerfully after she had been dumped! He knew he was being irrationally angry, he hadn't actually wanted to upset her, but gah! The nerve of her.
In order to fix the micro-fractures all over Braddon's hull, a specialised heat gun was being used to bring the alloy temperature up close to melting point, then slowly cooling it back down allowed the fractures to seal up without the need to replace the panel. It was energy and time intensive, but still more cost effective than a complete hull overhaul. Thankfully since he was damaged in the line of duty, the credits for the repairs weren't coming out of his account. The FTL drive on the other hand was cheaper to replace than repair. The main power conduits were unrecognisable in their molten state. They were waiting on a couple of parts to come in, but the rest of the repairs had been completed. He hadn't enjoyed having so many strangers, technicians, engineers, dock hands and the like wandering through him, but Cindy had vouched for each of them, and they definitely looked like they knew what they were doing. Before long all the internal works were done and he just had a couple of techs continuing his full body thermal massage.
"Hey Braddon," Cindy called out cheerfully to him on the comm. "If you want to go out for a wander, explore the station for a bit, I could always loan you my moto doll."
"Wait, you already got a moto-prosthetic? They really must be paying you the big bucks!"
She chuckled warmly. "I am still in significant debt, not going to reach payout for a long while yet. However, the bonus from my first job was decent enough, and well, the moto-doll is helping me with my side business."
"Your side business?" She couldn't mean… She had joked about starting her own brothel one day...
"When I got a look at my contract for this place I was very careful to make sure there were allowances for me to make a little extra coin. So long as it didn't interfere with me running the station of course. I needed to make sure that I would own the IP to anything that I invented in my downtime."
"Well you didn't invent moto-prosthetics." He teased.
"No." She lowered her voice. "Were you aware that sex with a mechanical being doesn't count as prostitution?"
There it was! His suspicion was correct. She continued. "A lot of people will pay big coin to bump nasties with a shell-person. As far as I know, I am the only one who is doing this sort of thing, so I kind of have the market cornered."
"Wait, you wanted me, to take your sex doll out for a stroll? Think I might pass, what if someone recognised it?"
She chuckled. "Barely anyone on the station would recognise it, especially dressed in a coverall!"
He snorted imagining a moto doll sprawled out on a bed trying to look sexy in an oil stained coverall. Well, Cindy could probably pull it off...
"Oh, but I haven't got to the best part yet! The doll is great, but it still excludes a group of people that I would really like to be able to offer services to."
"You mean shell-people."
"Yes! I am working on a wireless version of the magic cable from lab school, with a few modifications like a soft disconnect, and timer for safety."
He thought back to that magical night, it was good to know that their little experiment hadn't gone to waste. She continued. "In the meantime I have gotten pretty good at using the brainwave for some sensual encounters." She whispered the last line in such a way that made him tingle.
"How, um, inventive." He managed to splutter.
"If you were interested, maybe we could have a bit of fun?"
He paused. There were so many other things floating through his mind at the moment, he felt anxious, unsettled, but maybe this is what he needed? A bit of fun, a chance to unwind, release some tension. He had frequently thought back to that night, and here she was offering a repeat performance of sorts, how could he turn that down?
"Could I afford it?" He teased.
She chuckled warmly. "I would never dream of charging you."
He tried to think back to their first time, it seemed so long ago.
"Well in that case…"
He opened up multiple video and audio links, allowing her access. He was definitely out of practice, so deferred to her expertise and let her take the lead. They started slowly with long relaxing tones and colours. It was like playing a game of catch, where each time you had the ball you added something new. Like his mind was receiving a gentle massage. He started to relax, becoming immersed in the experience. His walls of careful control began to lower, as he started to let go of small strands of stress. She began layering on words, calling him strong, brave, the colours swirled in his mind. ...You are one fine sexy beast… she crooned. Sexy? The word didn't feel right… It snagged on a memory that came tumbling through his weakened defences.
"Sexy, I can work with that." Pacifica sneered. Braddon saw her face with it's crooked grin, but then it morphed into her tear stained face as she looked into his Helva unit. "No! Go away!" He yelled before realising Cindy was still connected, and he cut the link.
Get out of my head! I don't want you here! I don't want you! Why can't you just leave me alone? Why now… He rode the wave of memories that had come bubbling to the surface. Cindy was calling him on the comm, Braddon cautiously opened an audio link.
"Braddon, Braddon! Are you ok? What happened? I didn't hurt you did I?"
"Cindy, sorry. I, um, I'm fine. I just need a minute, we can keep going." He was madly trying to rebuild his wall of careful control. Trying desperately to think of a way to continue their fun.
"It's ok if you don't want to..." Cindy spoke gently.
"No! I want to, I want you, please?" He begged.
She hesitated, "Only if you're sure." Cindy timidly reached out to him once more, but he flinched at her touch, still heightened from the panic. She withdrew quickly.
"Braddon, your words don't match your actions. I, I can't do this right now."
"No, Cindy, wait!" But she was gone. Fardling heck! She had offered him a branch and he broke it, snapped it clean in half. Their relationship was the last thing he wanted to ruin. I wanted this right? She couldn't know me better than myself, could she? But the panic, that feeling of letting down his guard, even for a moment… I wanted this, no, I wanted to want it. He wanted his life to be normal and carefree, like it was back then. He wanted to be able to enjoy an intimate moment with his friend. He was a child the first time, and so was she. But now she had left him behind, matured into this amazing woman, the gap between them had grown. She was no longer his Cinders, she was Cindy the Stationmaster of Saffron. And she was right, she always was, now was not the right time. And she had seen his brokenness, and now she would never want to be with him.
After a couple of nights of fretting Braddon made the call to CenCom, formally requesting Xanther as his Brawn. As his repairs were going to take another couple of weeks, they decided to send her to meet him on Saffron. He still felt a bit uneasy about heading back out on active duty, but he didn't want to let anyone down. He didn't want to show that he was weak. And after his encounter with Cindy, staying on Saffron was looking significantly less appealing. They had barely talked since. She had checked in a couple of times, but he had fended off her questions with, "I'm fine, don't worry about it." He somehow managed to actively avoid talking to her, while feeling upset that she wasn't spending any time with him. He never thought he would have been able to feel lonely while visiting Cindy... He looked through the list of psychologists Dr Rice had sent through, but he couldn't settle on one to contact, and kept putting it off. Oh well, I don't need another formal psych evaluation for a few months, well unless they count the time in the black hole, then I am severely overdue... He also put off reading the personnel files on Xanther until he was informed of her imminent arrival. Oh well, too late for a cram session now. He could have scanned her records in a number of seconds, but he chose not to. It doesn't matter, I can always get out of this. "Request permission to board." Xanther's voice came from outside the airlock. It was unusually deep for a woman, but smooth, like velvet.
"Granted." He said dryly while opening the lock.
She walked through the airlock, bags in hand, and placed them gently on the ground before turning and saluting the column. "Reporting for duty as requested."
Her hair was pink! Braddon had barely noticed the rest of her appearance. A section of her scalp on the left side had been shaved completely, the rest held a short mop of hair the ends of which had been dyed the most brightly fluorescent shade of pink he had ever seen.
"Welcome aboard." He managed to say with some composure. That can't be within regs! Can it? She is a brawn, not a rock star… Do I say something? No, that would probably be rude. She stood there awkwardly, waiting, no expecting him to say something further. "Um, make yourself at home?"
She blinked twice before letting out the smallest of sighs and picking up her bags. "Sure, thanks." She sounded somewhat disappointed. About what, he did not know. The last thing he wanted to deal with right now was a ridiculous emotional woman. This was already feeling like a bad idea. She came back quickly after storing her things and sat down at the Pilot's console. She was slightly shorter than Pacifica, and much much shorter than Paddy. Well built, even in the dress uniform, he could tell she was muscular. "Are we ready to launch?" she continued. Business, he could do business.
"Just about. Finishing pre-flight checks now." He was about to contact flight when a thought came to him. "Xanther, that starts with an X."
"Oh my, how observant of you!" She said snarkily, then winced, realising how it must have sounded.
Moving right along, "Does that mean I am still the XB-1070? Or do we go by your family name?"
"XB is fine. It is only a temporary mission after all." She said glumly. Well, he wasn't going to argue with her, she seemed to be in a bit of a mood.
"Ok then." He said timidly as he called up flight. "XB-1070 requesting launch window."
Great, this was going to go so so well...
The first week went by uneventfully, although they weren't exactly talking to each other. She spent most of her time in her cabin, occasionally using the exercise equipment, and eating all her meals in the main cabin. They talked about work, what was the best course to get to the first satellite? Were they missing any supplies that may be needed? Could he please bring up the schematic of the transfer switch module that they would be replacing? However no attempts were made at companionship on either side. He allowed himself to get irrationally grumpy, while realising that he also was to blame. The longer he left it, the idea of striking up a conversation became even more off putting. What was Dr Rice thinking saddling me with this ice-cube! He thought about calling her up to complain about her tastes, but then remembered he wouldn't be calling her anymore. He spent a lot of time looking through his telescope, but even that was not bringing him the usual joy. Only one more day until the first satellite, maybe then something interesting will happen...
"Braddon, are you going to cycle the lock, or do you want me to do it manually?"
Braddon realised this was the second time she had asked. "Sorry, of course." He cycled the lock. He had been distracted. Xanther was suited up in the standard red pressure suit that was used by B&B crews. She looked so much like Pacifica. Pol and Tristan had performed EVA on the previous mission, but they had brought their own pressure suits, a dull gold colour to match the university logo. He had watched Pacifica work on satellites around distant planets countless times, and now, here he was again, guiding this red suited woman towards which components needed replacing. He knew it wasn't her, but the whole thing felt off, deja vu or something similar. History repeating again… the thoughts came flooding back as he started reliving that moment. He was interrupted by her voice, she was speaking again.
"Braddon, seriously, is something wrong with the comm?"
"I'll run a diagnostic, can you repeat your question?"
"This seems to be wired differently to the schematic, can you confirm which port I should be using?"
Braddon had somehow managed to keep enough focus to finish the satellite maintenance. He thought seriously about calling it all off then and there, but he couldn't even muster the courage to ask about her hair, so the thought of him telling her: "Look, this isn't working out." When they were at least a week away from the nearest station, was especially terrifying. I'll just stick it out until our next resupply, tell her after we have docked… He knew it was cowardly, but he was more than happy to admit that he was a coward if it meant not dealing with her right now. Over the next couple of days his dreams turned to Pacifica fueled nightmares, and he began dreading his sleep periods, putting them off, even skipping them occasionally. He was getting good at coming up with excuses as to why now was a bad time to sleep. Trivial thing needs monitoring, Xanther might wake up soon, so-and-so just came in range, it would be rude not to have a quick chat. Eventually the fatigue caught up to him.
Braddon was frazzled. Xanther was sleeping, and he had been trying to do the same. Lights dimmed, most of his sensors inactive, only those in the main cabin remained. How long has it been now? He checked his internal clock 03:19 can't be, it was only 2:00 like 10 minutes ago, that makes, um, Even the simplest of arithmetic was becoming difficult. He double checked his calculation by running it through the computer 38.53 grudly hours, bringing my total sleep debt to, um, 8.03 hours. Not great for someone who only needs 2 hours of rest per 24... I can't keep doing this... The longer he had been awake the less rational his mind was becoming, which made his fears seem more reasonable and sleep even harder to achieve. It was a vicious cycle, and just because he understood the basis of what was happening, it didn't make it any easier to break free.
It's time for plan B. he thought solemnly. He had been having great difficulty with sleep back at the hospital, and so the med techs had left him with a vial of sleeping medications and calmers deep within his shell. The catch? It required dual approval of both Braddon and his current brawn. That meant he needed Xanther's approval entered into the pilot's console with both access code and biometric readings. He briefly considered if it would be possible to fake Xanther's approval. The code would be no problem, he had watched her enter it many times by now. The point of the code was mostly to prevent non-authorised personal access to ship systems, not to prevent the shell-person access, who in most cases had override authority anyway. The biometric readings however would be an issue, it included an iris scan, and he couldn't see any way of getting Xanther's eye on the scanner without her consent. Maybe if I drugged her and used the servos to move her into position? The thought bubbled up and he quickly squashed it. No, no, no absolutely not! That would be one surefire way to become grounded. And to consider harming my own brawn! Not to mention leaving us drifting in space with both pilot and copilot drugged and unconscious. I am becoming irrational. Best to just fess up and ask her directly, can I wait until morning? It felt rude to wake her in the middle of a sleep cycle, but gosh darn! Softies slept for such long periods! If she woke at her usual time of 6:30, that would make, um, 41? 42? No, I can't put it off any longer, best to ask her while I still have a chance at forming a single cohesive thought!
He broke protocol and looked into her room. He was surprised at how bare it was, it looked like she hadn't set up a single personal item… he was getting distracted, that doesn't matter now. "Um, Xanther, I need your help." He was embarrassed to hear panic creeping into his voice.
Xanther shot up and just about fell out of bed. She had already reached her door and was stumbling into the main cabin when she said, "Braddon, what's happening, what's the emergency?"
Braddon was stunned, of all her possible reactions, this was not one he had been expecting. She had reached the pilot's chair and was bringing up external sensors. "Um, what, no, there is no emergency." Braddon said groggily.
She continued to go through the external sensors, then looked around the cabin, somewhat surprised at the calm ambiance. "Oh." She stated, somewhat embarrassed. "Then why did you wake me?"
"Well, there is an urgent matter in which I require your assistance." She looked at his column quizzically, a frown beginning to form on her forehead. "I need you to approve some medications." He said and loaded the approval screen on the monitor in front of her. Maybe she won't even look at it, he hoped in vain. She turned to the screen and her frown thickened as she read.
"Braddon, who are these medications for?" His name was included in the notice, but now was not the time to be pointing this out.
"Me." He said, watching her closely, she didn't react immediately, and he was worried that she didn't hear his response.
"Braddon, you aren't making any sense, why would a shell person require sleeping medication? Is this some kind of joke?"
"What, no, I assure you, please Xanther, I'm just so tired..."
She was shaking her head, "Shell people don't sleep…"
He sighed, "Unfortunately many shell-people are still slaves to this inconvenient ritual, however there are those well-adjusted blessed souls who do not fall prey to its curse. Those with the highest of adaptability scores." He was rambling, "However those of us who need it, can usually get by with very little." He was really starting to panic now, what if she doesn't believe me? What if she decides to call central to verify? He knew the use of the medications would appear on his medical records and come up at his next check in, and he was terrified of being deemed unstable and grounded permanently. But he needed sleep! "Please Xanther!" He begged. "I feel like I'm falling apart!" Oh nice job idiot, what a great way to assure her of your mental stability!
She had closed her eyes and was rubbing her temple. "Braddon, how much sleep do you usually require?"
"2 hours every 24."
"How long have you been unable to sleep?"
"Um," he ran the calcs again before remembering that he already knew the answer. "It has been just over 30 hours since my last nap, but that was only for 20min or so… If you consider the last week, well, I am now over 8 hours in debt..."
Her eyes widened at this statement. "Christ Braddon! Why didn't you say anything sooner?!"
Why had he waited so long? It seemed foolish now, but he had been afraid, afraid of central thinking he was unstable, afraid of his new brawn learning of his sleep schedules, afraid of admitting to himself that he needed help in dealing with this. He groaned inwardly. "I was hoping to remedy the situation naturally, but I, well, the probability of me making an error is currently, unacceptably high. So I decided to, well I needed to, ask for some assistance."
She sat there, staring at the screen re-reading the information.
"Are you going to withhold medical treatment while you interrogate me further?" He snapped, before instantly regretting it. "Sorry, no, I didn't mean…"
"Braddon, no, you're right." She interrupted. "I am going to approve this medication, but I want to talk further when you are more, well rested." She promptly entered her code, before placing her eye up to the biometric scanner.
He felt the drugs entering his system.
"Thank you." He saw a tear running down her face as his mind filled with fog and he drifted into sweet oblivion.