Hunter Woodhull (14:41)
And we're back. It's been decades and hundreds of forms since Star and Void last saw each other. Star runs through the old signs and signals they've used in the past, finding them all wanting. She considers any possible reason for Morgan to mention to her crewmates and moving water thrice, or to reference the entangled rulers of a historic dynasty on a planet that humans have no idea exists. As she walks, she runs Morgan's limited color vision over the metal and plastic contours of the ship. It's sterile and artificial here, few life forms other than the humans, their lab samples, and a little of their food, barely even a microorganism. It's hostile, with precious few options should she need to hop. Nowhere to shelter, nowhere to hide. Star is sure enough that Void is wearing someone on the ship, that she has bet everything on it. Once she'd received Void's signal, it was hard enough to coordinate her arrival here, following the movements and plans of the ship, occupying just the right animal or plant in just the right place, waiting dormant and insensible for the moisture and bacterial scent of a new lifeform to touch her fragile, borrowed body with a porous part of their own, or lean close enough to breathe her. She arrives at the bridge, surveying a crew as close as family to her body and entirely alien to her mind. The captain and first mate are here, two out of four. She runs through Morgan's knowledge of each of them, scans them as subtly as she can for hints. The captain turns and smiles at her expectantly. The sample from planetside turned up some very interesting characteristics that I think you should know about, star says, using Morgan's voice and Morgan's expertise. She smiles professionally and looks over Captain Jace's rigid posture, her hair tidily secure in a dark bun at the nape of her neck. Power often attracts Void, which she has to admit does make things easier. The captain is wearing a meticulously maintained squarish jacket in a light blue sleeves pulled practically back to her elbows, not part of standard uniform. Could that be anything? She considers which alien languages this body's throat and tongue could articulate through a cough. Star begins to detail her report. She considers how long she can draw this out and thinks, my hunger for you is teaching me to hate each one of these beautiful soft creatures I discover, because they are not you. It takes her more than an hour to think of anything to try, and by the time she does she is running out of excuses to stay on the bridge. Failing to find a natural way to bring up any of the old signals. She turns instead to their one constant change the malleability and interchangeability of the body. She could say something like I'm not feeling myself, or I'd love you as a lion or a swan or a campfire. What was that story that Morgan had been reminded of before her feeble kicking turned to twitching and stopped altogether? Some elf prince named Tam Lee or something? What does that have to do with her and Void? Four people on the bridge that doesn't leave Mushroom, says a voice from behind her. That's. That's a pun. A mushroom pun. That's so stupid. God, it's so much better than what she was going to say. She turns. Void's expression is carefully neutral and her eyes shimmering. The corner of her mouth trembles just a fraction, wanting to smile before being carefully schooled. The twist of her void is in a surprising fragile body. Her blonde hair is greasy at the roots, like she hasn't quite figured out how to deal with it, and there is an anxiety that has permanently marked her peaky face with somewhat the look of a white lab rabbit. Her uniform hangs awkwardly on her frame and is frayed at the wrists where it looks like she chews it. It's not the kind of body that Void usually chooses, and she wears it with a softness that thrums Star's chest with physical pain. She's wearing a chunky and tasteless beaded necklace that looks like it was made by a child, and Star's new heart jitters as she recognizes the colors that herald a house they once dedicated their lives to as bounty hunters. And that's not all. Her fraying collar is fraying in a very specific way, actually, and the patterns of little tears and protruding threads form a world in a language only spoken several galaxies away, the name of a cult they had founded and became extremely fond of, one of the only places they'd been accepted and cherished for what they truly were. To have the divinity of their changeable flesh. Flesh acknowledged and craziest of all. Her coveralls are unbuttoned to reveal a T shirt with an image of a fox skull with mushrooms growing out of it that's just too on the nose. The ridiculous creature didn't even have to use her stupid, risky pun because she's wearing their lives all over herself. Not knowing if her transmission had been received or if Star were even still alive, Void has been sending signals out into an empty universe on spec, on faith. Star loves her so goddamn much she could scream. Morgan's memory recognizes the body Void is wearing, coal. The ship's tech, notably Cole and Morgan were friendly if slightly awkward co workers and not thousand year old Star crossed lovers. But she's gone speechless. She's staring. Priority one needs to be staying safe and not lunging across the bridge and finding out what two of these warm and lightly furred bodies feel like when they press against each other. She has to say something chill and normal. Actually, now that you're here, I'm having issues with the lab processor. If you could take a look, she manages, and Void Coal is saying of course, Doctor, before she's even finished, and she may simply not be able to control Morgan's face. As they leave the bridge together, she catches a few glances and the first mate leans, whispering towards the captain. Oh well, they'll think of a good excuse for this later. Now that they're finally, finally together again, Star isn't wasting another moment on catering to expectation. Void leans close to her, murmuring in the language of these people, finding expression there so naturally. Idiot, she says, I would know you anywhere and anything. The place that Void brings her to is hidden enough to do for now, and as they duck squeezing into the crawlspace beneath the large computer together, Star has to agree that the warmth, the humor and the smallness of it, the darkness punctuated by flickering lights is pleasant and comforting. They fold together, finding the parts of themselves and each other that are soft or pointed to lie against. Void drags the translucent scales at the ends of her fingers through the mane of hair that crests Star's head, showing her how the feeling sends prickles of physical pleasure down Star's scalp and spine. I love it, she says. I'm like a little, you know, those flexible mammals that live inside, Says Star, comprehends the concept of house cats and giggles, and feels the vibration of laughter bubble through her for the first time. The combination of Star's love of Void and Morgan's body's instinct has made her desperate to touch the pale silver of sky visible at Void's collar and sleeves, and Void rolls the coveralls back to allow Star's thumb and index to circle her wrists with a gentle craving. There are soft dark bruises spotting Void's skin like she's an overripe fruit. Morgan's scientist's mind recognizes the heaviest bruising on the part of the forearm that must rest against the desk as Void sits the console. She frowns and Void glances down at her own arms. That's gotten a bit worse. Void says. Damn, I was trying to be careful. You're pressing too hard, I think, says Star. I know, but that's not the only reason I dent much easier than when I first got the body. Look. And Void takes Star's finger and grinds it into her own wrist so hard that the tips of both of their fingers turn white, then rolls the skin a little between Star's fingers as though crushing a leaf. Sure enough, when Void lets her take her hand away, a yellowish mark has begun to blossom. The fragility is hypnotizing. Malnutrition, probably. Star says, you have to be more careful than this. Doesn't it hurt? And Void nods and shrugs. Star continues, if we're going to find a way off the ship, we have to make these bodies last and keep them looking normal. You have to pay attention to the pain. Don't lecture me. I know, says Void, rolling her eyes. I was waiting for you. I'll be more careful now. But Star is still frowning a little, running through Morgan's memories of Cole and noting how her skin looks a little too tight, her uniform fits a little wrong. Her eyes are brighter and wider than they used to be. This body is already starting to give. Void is riding it too hard. I mean it, says Star. Maybe this could be our shot. We could live a thousand years among these humans and not run out of things to be. And these two are good, healthy, and intelligent. I want to stop running, Love. And I want to hop less, as little as possible. Void smiles a little. Your sensitivity is part of what I love about you, she says. I know you hate seeing them empty. Void's certainly been in Coal long enough that the mind of the sweet and quiet programmer with a surprisingly wicked streak of humor is gone forever. Left to her own whims, she'll grind the body down to the quick. She'll ride the fraying nervous system as the body deteriorates around her, delighting in the mind, the sensations, and when she becomes too obvious or too uncomfortable shall jump, a memory bobs to the surface. They had activated queendom, and they stayed as long as the fragile and decaying bodies could disguise them, piloting near corpses, pressing chalky powder to the skin to hide the rot, filling their chambers with sickly sweet blooms to mask the smell, the strips of flesh ribboning away, sending the prickle of impulses through the nerves into dead meat, the limbs ceasing to function, frantically trying too late to figure out what had gone wrong, not being able to reverse the decay that had begun, and Void in her arms at the last, her mouthparts black as she smiled, eyes feverish, dragging the husk of herself to the communicator to summon a page for the first time in months, asking for strong ones. Two of them. Ugh, that had been bad. It's not just the emptiness I'm worried about, says Star, picking up her train of thought. If we leave these bodies anywhere, they'll identify the traces of us in them. Yeah, they know about us. That's bad luck, says Void. There have been others that got caught. I wonder who. Yes, I want to try. Let's live it out. We'll stay on the ship and be Morgan and Cole and wait and live like real people. And rest. We can wait for a good opportunity. Relief washes over Star. Of course, Star knows that even if she tends Morgan's body like a garden, learns to be gentle in the right places, uses all the systems properly, Morgan's mind and self will still be dead, but she is now the keeper of Morgan's memories, and she will incorporate them into herself, carry them forward with her as a sign of gratitude and respect. That's how it should be, how it could be. Maybe now. And, says Void, there's so much more I want to show you. She reaches behind Star, fingers skimming the waistband of her pants, and pulls her shirt free. Void's hand finds the heat of Star's Morgan skin, and Star shivers in a new way. They tumble from the humming crush of the crawlspace onto the floor. Star finds herself on her stomach as Void's thigh presses between her legs and sparks thrum through the length of her. Desire kindles in Star, and if her lungs feel a little tight, a void is lying on her a little too heavy and her pelvis is grinding into the floor too hard. It matters less and less. Void. Cole's narrow, cold hands slide under Star's clothing completely and begin to demonstrate what human bodies can do. Void rolls the bulk of coal forward onto Star's neck and head and oh, okay, now she really can't breathe, and that's clearly a problem. Her arms and torso are pinned in place, but she rolls her jaw experimentally to the side, seeing if it's flexible and strong enough to lift her head and create a little space for air. It isn't what she realizes at the exact moment as Void grinds to down into her heart, lost in her own exploration of sensation. Terrible timing, that's what it is. Star hears the pop and doesn't understand what it means. She dazedly tries to run her tongue over the inside of her mouth and finds that the shape is wrong, the tongue too, and in a moment Morgan's nervous system fires a white explosion of pain into her. Something hot is filling her mouth and her cheek is too flat on the floor. It seems wrong that she could break so easily. Her strangled yell is choked off. She can't close her mouth or actually move it at all. She still can't breathe and her writhing and gargling must read a little too much as pleasure. It takes precious seconds until she begins to gag and coughs sincerely for Void to catch on to what's happening. Star can't blame her. Once lost in pleasure, they often don't express it the way that memories of their the species they occupy would expect. Void bucks off of her and flings her onto her back. Ah, good. Now she'll be able to breathe and spread Morgan's ribs like a flower in the sunlight, creating the vacuum that will fill them with relief. But oh no, there isn't any air in her mouth. There's that hot liquid which doesn't feel right at all. No, that doesn't work. It has to be air. But with all this liquid there isn't much room left in her mouth, lungs and actually something has gone very wrong indeed. A proper human would probably have known not to take such a huge and greedy lungful of a non air substance. Her face is starting to feel thick. She tries to raise a hand to touch it and watches the hand swim helplessly at the corner of her vision before veering away somewhere as the world begins to blacken at the edges like a love note burning in the a grate. Star focuses Morgan's eyes on the white and purple triangle of void's coalface, the terror and panic there looking like starvation. And do you know what you can lock onto in your own moments of terror and panic? Like a love note burning bright against the blazing meaningless void of space and time, it adds.
