#might have to think harder to work their ellusion out

[atrillies]

the kids are complete

[unicyclehippo]

Prompt:

Time just before sunrise while on the deck of a ship.

im thinking abt writing these prompts into my weird spaceship story that has zero plot rn

//

‘Pass the bwib, Doc.’

She moved her hand to the calls of “left” “more left” “you’ve overshot it now Doc!” and “there you go, that’s the one”: she got three fingers in the mush-adjacent bwib—not so much a delicacy as it was hard-to-source junk, and harder ever since it was discontinued in the 70s—but otherwise passed the dish off to a shock-headed child (surely they didn’t hire children on this ship??) without any trouble and without having to look out from behind her VIA screen.

‘I’m thinking of instituting a rule,’ Connelly muttered, mostly to herself. ‘No bloody screens at the breakfast table.’ She hadn’t expected anyone to hear but the good doctor shifted in her seat. Connolly looked up to find an eyebrow arched her way, sharp as any glint.

‘You’d find that hard to enforce,’ Doctor Foss told her, and her smile was the first reminder of Merlo’s warning. Doctor Foss is a damn fine doctor. Proud, but not without reason. She could have her pick of ships but she chose the Swiftlea and I’m not too interested in the why of it. Also, she’s Caniix. In the gleaming sharp teeth, and the flash of amber light across the doctor’s eyes, Connolly found herself running through all she’d been taught about the once-enemy of human fleets—weaknesses, strengths, habits.

Foss’s nostrils flared and her grin grew a little wider, unsettlingly so. ‘Wasn’t a threat. Captain,’ she added after a thoughtful moment. ‘Just a helpful comment. And besides, it would be hypocritical of the Captain.’ She nodded to Connolly’s VIA—active, though set aside—and Connolly shrugged.

‘True enough. Be nice to see the crew I’m captaining, is all I meant.’ She didn’t smile. Her face wasn’t suited to it and Foss might take it as a challenge anyway. There was good humour in her tone though and she relaxed a bit when Foss barked a laugh.

‘Come to the flight deck,’ Foss said. Connolly ignored the way it sounded very much like an order. ‘You’ll see everyone there.’

‘Oh? Why’s that?’

Foss’s eyes shone. ‘You’ll see.’ She stood, collapsing her VIA and tucking the scroll-like shape under her arm.

‘Already?’ the bwib-fan—Aggie, Connolly’s mind supplied now that she’d had some coffee—asked. She stood when Foss did, though she grabbed some of the dense rolls from the table and stuffed them into her pockets.

‘You will be eating again soon,’ Connolly promised the child.

Aggie grinned. ‘Not for me. It’s for Ike.’

‘First engineer. Bored of anything that isn’t the ship.’

‘That’s them,’ the kid agreed, and stuffed a third roll into the front pocket of their apron. Foss cleared her throat. Aggie looked up at her with a frown. A silent moment passed, and a sidelong look to Connolly, before Aggie’s eyes widened. ‘Oh! That’s them, Captain.’

Connolly grinned despite the unsuitability of her face and nodded. ‘To the flight deck, then? I’m curious about this surprise, Doctor.’

‘I do think you’ll like it. Humans always do.’ Foss gave another sidelong look at that and Connolly hoped she caught her amusement. It was hardly her first time on a new ship—admittedly her first time as Captain—and the push and shove of egos settling into a new dynamic always started like this. With a few testing prods and probes.

Connolly nodded and stood, wiping her mouth and picking up her VIA. A few messages had arrived, each bearing the same symbol, and she folded up the screen as Foss had. When the doctor made no move to lead the way, Connolly headed to the east walkway. Aggie giggled and Connolly turned her head so only the kid could see before she winked and turned to the north.

The Swiftlea was not a terribly large ship and what she lacked in size she made up for in an old-fashioned sort of formidable durability. There were pipes across corridors that Connolly had to step over or duck under—well-marked with a dull light—and big brackets where several corridors connected that looked to be distinct control panels. It wasn’t a system she had encountered before—and one that couldn’t possibly work well with such a lean crew as the Swiftlea—but she would examine it in detail before she said as much to the mind behind it.

She was pondering the best way to get a tour with the ellusive Ike when they reached the flight deck. It was filled with an odd light and it took Connolly a moment to place it; the deck visors had been lifted and they were standing and looking out into space. A blue-grey light filtered in through those open windows for a moment—Connolly turned to thank Foss for bringing her when the doctor shook her head and nodded to the windows. Just in time for Connolly to turn and catch the sight herself—the thinnest ray, a sickle of gold, as it rose from behind the planet. Every moment growing larger and brighter and the red-gold light flooded the deck, turning the drab room into something out of a space opera—a golden ballroom aboard the Midas, or a subplasme diving into the sun. It was breathtaking, it was beautiful—it was fun. Needless. The pilot had to have planned for them to be here to watch the sunrise.

‘Quite right, Doctor Foss. I did enjoy that.’