Untitled_SciFi_Fubukific

Fragments.

Fubuki awoke abruptly to a view filled with metallic shards, their irregular forms soundlessly spinning across the void. Her eyes instinctively moved to track their course, triggering a splitting headache. Pain? Other pains clamored for her attention, spine and neck and-

"-irakami? Shirakami! Your inertial monitor just took a ma-"

Oh good, her ears were working. Both sets? Difficult to assess through the pervasive whine of tinnitus. No time to worry about that now, Command was practically shouting something, it must be urgent.

"Shirakami, if you can maneuver in any way you need to move IMMEDIATELY! The Boxes won't wait for your biological needs. Pull your stim! I repeat, Shirakami, if you ca-"

Fubuki ignored the voice once again, focusing her limited mental energy on her body. Stim. Right. Stim... she needed to use her fingers. Did her fingers still work? They hurt, that was a start. Stim... right. Training. Just to the side of the normal controls, a simple looped pullcord. Fubuki attempted to work a finger inside... they felt numb. She probably had one in. Time to-

YANK

Fubuki gasped, shuddering involuntarily as the injectors in her flightsuit poured a mix of painkillers and mental stimulants into her veins. She hadn't felt the effects of an emergency stim in years. It would be a few seconds before she was able to move again, but the stim would grant her precious minutes of functional time once she got over the initial shock. For a moment, she floated, free from pain, free from stress. Command was still talking...

"-ami, if you can hear me you need to move! Pull your-"

She needed to respond. Fubuki opened her mouth to speak, still addled by the chemicals.

"Stim pulled. I'm here."

A mumbled response was still a response. Command immediately cut off their agitated loop, sounding more businesslike. Good old Grover, never one for emotions. Not normally.

"Shirakami. Get your spike off that ring. Now."

Fubuki's limbs prickled, sensation returning. She didn't feel normal, not even close - but aching, awkward, intentional motion was far superior to a pain-induced daze. She reached to place her gloved hands on the controls, both flight sticks had positioned themselves at neutral automatically due to the impact. Time to move.

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Artificial sunlight never had felt quite right to Fubuki. She knew the health benefits, vitamin D and such, but the color had always seemed a little off. Probably due to its more general Sol-based tone. Fubuki's home sun had been dimmer, redder. More relaxing, she liked to think. Bright yellow-white was so stressful to wake up to.

Fake. The light streaming down from the panels over her bunk was fake, just like everything else on board. Fake sunshine. Fake air. Fake foods. Fubuki didn't mind too terribly though, freely chosen fakes were better than a life trapped in the cradle of authentic comforts.

She sat up, shifting her legs to one side, stepping onto the slightly curved metal floor of her cabin. No window - not that there was much to see around here anyway. A sizable bank of monitors, switched off with the exception of a small digital clock displayed in one corner. A tiny nook of a desk. A pair of lockers. A chair, affixed to the floor by magnets. Familiar sights, now.

Fubuki yawned, stretching. Her wrists felt lighter when she raised them over her head. Once, artificial gravity had seemed odd and stretched to her, but anything strange endured long enough begins to feel typical. She lowered her arms, tapping a dimmed monitor, waking her dashboard. She needed to see the shower schedule.

Open slot in 25 minutes - Fubuki tapped the reserve button. Plenty of time to eat first. As she slipped into her off-duty coveralls and put on her boots, Fubuki considered her meal options. The printers boasted a massive range of exotic cuisines, but if you pushed at any of them too hard with a fork they tended to collapse into a similar paste. The best choices were foods that were bland and mushy to begin with, those made better pretenders. Maybe oatmeal.

Her ladder wobbled a bit as she climbed out of her cabin into the main accessway, her hatch automatically sliding out of the way as it detected her presence. She'd have to tell maintenance about the wobble later. The LED indicators on most other hatches around hers displayed a solid yellow, their occupants away. Rotating shifts ensured that only a third of the crew was sleeping at any given time. She began walking around the ring, towards the lounge and cafeteria. Right across from her cabin in this case, but a chance to walk with both gravity and an actual destination in mind was a rare luxury for spacefarers.

TO BE CONTINUED