Send and Receive
© 2024 by Walter Reimer

Thumbnail art by  ahro


Fuji, Meredith and Jinzi were on their way back to Downtime Station from This Far. The little filly was seated on the carpeted floor playing with a stuffed plush feral cat while her father looked over her mother’s shoulder. “And that’s that,” Meredith said as she saved and shut down the game, attaching it to a message. The message would be sent to the liner’s transmission buffer and, after docking with the station, sent on into the Kashlanin data network.

“Why are you sending it on Varan now?” Fuji asked.

The golden palomino mare sat back and smiled at him. “I think this is a good point to pass it on.” Her ears flicked as she gave her mate a wry smile. “Of course, what we’re doing is against tradition.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Breaking up the group almost guarantees that bad things will happen,” and the mare giggled. “And with the game’s AI being what it is – “

“Whatever happens is going to be obscene, as well as interesting.”

“Exactly.”


***


The message was waiting for the Bōank when it returned from a series of post-refit exercises to J’Shavar Base. The heavy cruiser had been brought back up to dockyard standard, with significant upgrades to its weapons, defenses, and sensors as a result of the conflict with the Terrans.

Fighting Terrans was completely unlike fighting the Ichoniik. The molluscoids apparently had a certain strategic and tactical doctrine that they stuck to no matter what circumstances changed, and they didn’t seem to feel any need to improve their ships. Terrans had gained a reputation for being innovative, changing tactics from one fraction to the next sometimes. It made them a species to be watched.

Varan hoped, however, that the Terran Empire would leave well enough alone.

She was in the ship’s command section, seated in her chair and watching as the Pilot brought the ship in to dock. The cruiser eased in close as its main and reaction drives shut down, and there was a barely perceptible tremor as the locked mated and engaged.

“Station command confirms docking, Captain,” the Pilot said.

“Very good, Pilot,” Varan said as she stood up. “The Command-Second will coordinate logistic requirements as well as the leave schedule.” While J’Shavar wasn’t a planet, the station orbiting the dim red dwarf star had several habitats for the rest and recreation of crews. Like the crew, Varan had quarters stationside as well as aboard. “Communications,” and the officer perked his ears, “transfer all messages for me to my office, please.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

The vir stepped into her office and smiled as an icon on the desk’s glossy top signaled that messages were downloading. Her tail swishing, she leaned over (having sat for long enough, in her opinion) and read the subject headings as each message loaded.

There were two broad categories. One was for official mail, having to do with her ship and crew, as well as the broader military situation commensurate with her security clearance. The other was personal, and Varan gave this one a little more attention.

Eight messages, marked as personal.

Five were from her parents and older sister, one was from Meredith with an attachment that she guessed was a game module, and two from Vesan.

For a moment, Varan struggled with the problem of which one to open first, but she restrained herself and started looking at her family mail first.

Her younger brother was living with two of his coworkers, and the three had spoken of getting married after ensuring that they were compatible. The others were reactions to this good news, along with pointed questions about when or whether she would marry.

Aka, plenty of time for that. She wasn’t even thirty-five yet.

She flagged the three most recent for later replies and opened Meredith’s. Yes, it was a game module, and she added it to her own instance of the game.

A breath, and she opened the two from Vesan.

The older vir was sitting up in a chair, dressed in civilian clothes. Her left arm was still missing, and there were small patches on her head where the fur was shorter than the rest. “Zogat, Varan,” she said with a smile, and she brandished a small swatch of cloth. “Thank you for this,” and she sniffed at it before adding, “it helped me regain my memory of you. Of course, I look forward to a fresher sample than this,” and she chuckled.

Varan felt her eyes grow moist.

Perhaps, she thought, perhaps there was something to the Deities after all . . .


***


“We are ready for you, Vesan.”

Vesan k’Daridh grumbled, “I’m starting to hate this, you know.”

The nurse gestured affirmatively. “We know.”

Vesan removed her robe after getting out of the artigrav-equipped chair. A vest made up of a webbing of biosensors crisscrossed her chest and back, and her tail switched irritably as she took a breath and stepped toward the regen unit.

She hated the thing.

But it was necessary if she wanted to get her arm back.

She’d already had several preliminary treatments, resulting in a bulge at her left shoulder that itched abominably and was very sensitive simultaneously. It was hard to scratch because it was so tender.

The fluid in the regen unit was nearly at body temperature, and it flowed around her as she stepped into the tub and sat down, settling her tail comfortably. She took a deep breath and said, “I’m ready.”

“Thank you,” the nurse said, and she accessed the biosensors as a specialist came forward with an injector. Four injections in four designated positions around her left shoulder (one very close to the growth, which almost made her flinch) and she began to feel drowsy.

Aka, yes, that was right; she was to be anesthetized for this.

The nurse and the specialist fitted her with goggles and a mask, and she breathed filtered air as she was gently eased into the unit, the warm fluid flowing over her as she drifted off to sleep.