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Chapter 3

Trial By Fire

3.1 Improvise, Adapt, Overcome

Weightlessness could be a cozy feeling, if it wasn't for the headache that has accompanied every single of the three times I have come back to my senses on board of the Phoenix. As it is, third time is a charm compared to the first two times - though making the acquaintance of a kitchen counter by crashing into it head-first is the last thing I can remember before the lights went out.

This time a grey-furred snout being the first thing coming into focus after I open my eyes is not as angst-inducing as it was before, especially in comparison to what little I remember from realizing its presence the first time. It still doesn't feel like being me - I don't know if it ever will. But it is what it is. According to CASSIE, this is how I will spend the rest of my life. It seems strange - how fast the mind seems to adapt to new circumstances, even ones as extreme as the ones I find myself in.

Speaking of both CASSIE and of how this rest will play out exactly: A violent rampage of electric overloads and accompanying explosions like the one that facilitated my involuntary nap is usually not a good sign.

"CASSIE? Please tell me this fireworks display was planned."

The fact that I wasn't taken back to a medical facility means good news, I suppose. Nothing more than a bump on the head then, judging by the headache.

"I wish the show had been planned, but no. How does your head feel?"

"Like I hit a sturdy piece of furniture with it. How long was I out? Did I missanything?"

"You were unconscious for less than ten minutes. In the meantime, I havecompiled a damage report and initiated the most urgent repairs. Also, there is anupdate on the reactor situation."

How could I forget - one of the two most powerful nuclear devices ever built by man about to blow up. No sense in delaying the - presumably bad - news. I'm anything but an expert for starship technology; but figuring out that a causal relation between a power surge and an overloading reactor is likely doesn't take an expert, either.

"Then let's hear it."

"The reactor core is deteriorating faster than my initial prognosis anticipated. Thefinal phase of the overload has begun three to five days earlier than the probabilisticmodels indicated. As of now, we have about nine to ten hours left before the magneticcontainment fields around the core will fail."

That really does not inspire confidence. Especially not my confidence, I should add. If I remember correctly, I was the "ace up the sleeve" in whatever plan there was for dealing with this situation before it went south. Now would be a good time to go over the details of this plan - for my benefit, most importantly: To see if I am up to the challenge - both ability- and confidence-wise.

"So, what is your current plan to deal with this - and what's my part in it? Keepthe briefing short, we're on a countdown."

And with that, schematic views of the Phoenixappear before my eyes; provided by the NeuraLink interface, I assume. The reactors and the adjoining propulsion systems are magnified, a bright mix of yellow and red colors indicating temperature, radiation and magnetic field strenghts clustered around what is easily identified as Ra if compared to the much less bright color palette of its twin, Helios.

Another set of graphical overlays highlights the system of beams and supports that hold the reactors in place, as well as what I assume - correctly - to be manual locking mechanisms designed to decouple the reactor core from the scaffolding around it.

"The reactor is fixed into place by twelve main supporting columns which areanchoring the reactor casing into ship's super structure. All other physicalconnections - the fuel and plasma conducts, control and sensor lines - are notcontributing to the static equilibrium that hold the reactor assembly in place. Myoriginal plan was to use the release manual locks in the correct order, combined witha series of maneuvers to prevent the reactor core from crashing into thepropulsion assembly, to detach Ra. This would have given us enough time to putenough distance between the Phoenixand the reactor to escape the worst of theexplosion."

The schematic layout of the reactors and the scaffolding holding them in place is gaining yet another visual element, the markers already in place turning transparent: It is a trajectory connecting the individual manual release mechanisms. Indeed, it starts and ends at an airlock, as well as deviating from the shortest paths between several of the release mechanisms to other airlocks in the respective vicinity.

"This is the route you have planned for my space walk, I assume? Operatingthe release mechanisms for all the twelve supports in a one-man job takeswhat - at least half a day! Or even more! There will never be enough time to..."

The NeuraLink I share with CASSIEfeels, for a lack of better words, unusual at times. There are no obvious signs of discomfort; I find myself to be distracted sometimes - hearing voices whispering from what seems to be just outside the range of my visual perception, then at other times daydreaming. There are two different voices I can discern, but as soon as I make a conscious effort to concentrate on what it is they are saying, they fall silent. What stays behind after these unheralded moments of distractions are - again for the lack of better words - unbidden fragments of thought that are not unlike intuitions. Right now, this notion of intuition is manifesting itself again.

For a brief moment, there is a powerful assortment of emotions: Loneliness, fear,anxiety. A profound feeling of vulnerability - I can't remember why, but I know I feltthe same set of emotions not long ago; facing death, I know for certain. Inthis very moment however, I can tell these emotions are not mine. Thoughthey would certainly match what I have faced in my past - either back onEarth in this long-gone first life of mine or more recently here on board thePhoenix- all I can say is these emotions are not mine. Mesmerized by theschematic diagrams I still see before me, these thoughts linger for a few moremoments.

There is another kind of fear involved in these foreign emotions: Fear of failure.Failing ... failing my - no, failing our - mission. The mission that brought us here,after travelling all those centuries through interstellar space ... alone. Struggling ...fighting to keep ourselves alive, to protect our passengers and cargo. Spendingcenturies alone, embodied in a starship that struggles to stand the test of time. Ableeding heart, technology succumbing to the harsh and unforgiving reality ofinterstellar space. Ra...

A brief flicker of hope - not being alone any longer. Re-embodying an old friend,only to see him suffer a near-fatal breakdown I failed to anticipate...

I manage to free myself from the wake of induced emotions before they become overwhelming - a trickle of tears has formed on both sides of my muzzle. It must be the NeuraLink - what I just witnessed ... CASSIE.

"CASSIE... are you ... are you all right?"

A few seconds of silence follow my unspoken question. An uncharacteristically long pause, judging by the previous flow of our conversations. Whatever it is that keeps you silent for so long - time is passing in nanosecond increments for you - is apparently difficult to process. I am about to address you again as you answer me on your own accord.

"Liam, I ... do not know what to do. Everything the Phoenix Initiative worked for- all we did, it was for nothing. We ... are running out of time. Mankind's lastchance - I jeopardized it. I brought you back ... only to have you die together with me.I tried so hard to make it all work, but now ... now my shortcomings are our ruin..."

This is an unexpected revelation. While trying to deal with everything this second life has already thrown at me in the few days I am consciously living it, I honestly failed to consider the challenges you have faced. Not to mention the fact that the evolution you must have gone through - both before the launch of the mission and en route - not only seems to have made you sentient, but also gave you emotions and empathy. And with all the same good and bad facets any human - well, I guess canine in my case - has to deal with. Shaken self-confidence, despair, anxiety: What you are going through is something I can understand very well. If and how I can help you to cope with it is another question - but I will do my best to share this burden.

"CASSIE, you have not failed, neither your mission, nor me. You have brought uspractically all the way here alone - against very high odds, no less. With a roguefusion reactor you kept running as long as you could, with an error margin of ...what, five days over 86 years? That's pretty solid work in my book. See -you don't have any reason to feel guilty or to condemn your own decisions.Then there's that - you brought me back from the dead, gave me a secondchance. I've been so preoccupied with what I've become ... and what to make ofit ... I didn't even thing of thanking you for what you did for me. As forshortcomings ... look at what you have achieved, and yet you still fear that youhave failed. You are holding yourself to pretty high standards, but being anynotion of humans comes with imperfection. That is no reason to despair - farfrom it. Just look at mankind as a whol: I am alive again, but my ... formerspecies is exinct. We managed to screw up pretty badly, yet you brought ushere."

I pause briefly, but there is no reaction forthcoming.

"CASSIE, I meant what I said earlier: I will do my best to make this second lifework - but to do so, I need your help. I suppose that I know more about thePhoenixand its systems than I'm aware of, it seems you've imprinted quite a lot ofinformation on top of ... well, on top if me, I suppose. But information isn'tknowledge - I will need your help and guidance if we want to survive the next fewhours. We both do want to survive, do we?"

This finally prompts a response, with a far less troubled emotional undertone - and determination. This mental link we share in both directions is yet another ambiguous complication when it comes to what I already have on my plate, but there's a proverbial silver lining: In situations like the current one - not that I'm deliberately asking for future trouble, mind you - it helps me to understand the alien world I now find myself in better.

"Yes, I want to survive - I want us both to survive."

"The let's work the problem together. There's no way to keep the original timeframe in your plan - so we have to improvise. Let's see what we can go without: Whatabout safety margins? I suppose you planned some breaks for me to take; I'll make dowithout. And what about the paths between the manual release mechanisms - can youshorten them?"

"I have anticipated four hours of rest for twelve hours of EVA. Even that is at thelower limit for the rest you would require, considering your body is far from peakphysical health. As for the path between the manual releases: It follows the pathwaysused during the construction and assembly of the ship, there is no safe way to shortenthe distances."

"Safety is a luxury we won't be able to afford, CASSIE. I'll make do withoutbreaks, that saves us four hours. You'll have to get me something nice and strongfrom the medicine cabinet to keep me going."

I physically point a few example locations on the 3D model of the reactor assembly that appear to be close enough to more than one of the main supporting beams to jump back and forth between - jumps assisted by a grappling hook, certainly. But we are in zero-g, so there's little to nothing that would prevent me from moving through the construction that way.

"What about the other connections to the reactor core besides the main supports?These look like they're close enough for making a jump in-between. Find me a fasterroute, please - one that incorporates shortcuts. How are we looking equipment-wise? Ifyou haven't planned for a grappling hook, add it to the list. Make it a powered one -harpoon gun style. You have something like that in the fabricator blueprint database?While you're at it, show me what kind of equipment I'm supposed to take withme."

The list of equipment replaces part of the ship's schematics. A space suit - I can't help but notice the extruded shape of the helmet - with what I suppose are the life support and a propulsion system. An assortment of tools to operate the manual release locks - made for handling nuts and bolts, a high temperature plasma cutter...

"Hold it right there: How do these release mechanisms work?"

"They were designed for both remote and in-place mechanical operation. Theremote option is not available - I lost remote access when the cascade failure hit. Asfor mechanical release, this is the procedure..."

Clearly designed to be secure, not for release by a single operation. As I fast-forward the reference manual's step-by-step procedure, it becomes obvious that I would need at least ten minutes per mechanism when working alone - just to unlock all redundancies in the coupling! This didn't even cover a second round-trip to trigger the actual release mechanisms in the right order to ensure a collision-free decoupling sequence.

"That's two hours to prepare the release of all locks when I'm working alone,which I assume I would be. Not even with considering technical difficulties - thatwon't do. And then there's the second round trip I'd have to take. We need a fasterway to disengage the reactor couplings. One that doesn't require me to do two roundsthrough half of the reactor assembly ... wait - what if we use demolitioncharges?"

I sense what I can best describe as hesitation, not only because of my blatant disregard of safety procedures. There is something else, going beyond concern for my well-being - it's the fear I felt previously: The fear of facing one's own mortality, of being vulnerable.

A virtual construct embodied in a starship for over 1200 years. Your existencebegan as pure intellect, an outside observer of physical existence. Then you wereinstalled into the Phoenix, and from one moment to the other, your worldbecame corporeal. You had no real concept of mortality before - so you werenot prepared for its ramifications. You were made to preserve and protectthe legacy of mankind - this predetermination naturally extended to yourembodiment. You have lived in this ship - as this ship - for so long, tending toit, defending it against the inevitable ravages of time that your first andsecond natures eventually became one. When Ra went rogue, it must havebeen like suffering a stroke or a heart attack for you. Yet with almost 88years to go, you had to persist and continue - a hurt soul in a woundedbody.

I begin to understand why your plan relies so much on safety measures and adherence to protocols: This is quite literally a surgical procedure on a beating heart.

"You don't want risk anything going wrong, right? Not just for my sake, but justas much for your own. We can't stick to your original schedule any more, CASSIE.This requires a more aggressive approach now - the faster we can separate the reactorfrom the Phoenix, the better."

As I take another look at the enlarged schematic overview of the Phoenix's rear section, the influence of your original primary directives - which turned into a deeply-ingrained survival instinct - becomes painfully obvious. Even to an untrained eye like mine, the restructuring you have applied to the configuration of thePhoenix's hull is extensive.

"You were building around the problem, it seems. Finding a constructive way todeal with a critical wound, instead of using destructive means to get rid of the reactorcore before it truly became unmaintainable? In all these years you spent travellingalone through interstellar space, you had no-one but yourself to turn to, to seekcounsel with - or to make you aware of solutions outside the scope of your directives,or your own perspective."

Just in this moment, another power surge is racing through the ship's energy grid. Through our shared perception, I sense it building up before it can actually manifest itself - it is not as bad as the previous one that managed to knock me out, but still bad enough to prompt several short-outs in the near vincinity, in addition to leaving parts of the mess hall in darkness.

As if we needed another reminder of the dire situation we find ourselves in. Which makes getting back to the task at hand all the more important - there is just no time left for hesitation or faltering confidence.

"I ... I did what I had to - I needed the second reactor to sustain me, keep mesafe. Was that - is that ... wrong? Cutting out a vital part of myself ... I could not dothat, not before being certain ... making sure I would get you to Beta Phoenicis. I ...made the wrong decision - I took a risk that was not mine to take. I am so sorry,Liam."

So I was not too far off with my assessment. The long journey without company, without anyone or anything to rely on for guidance and comfort, has left its scars on your ... soul. I suppose I can call it by this name. Both of us are troubled souls, I guess.

"CASSIE, you ... are way too hard on yourself. You did a marvelous job gettingthe Phoenixthrough such a long voyage. You have no reason to blame yourself for ...weaknesses, much less to apologize for saving my life. And for preserving mankind'schance for a new start, no less. Doubting yourself, fearing you aren't up to achallenge - that is part of being human."

Inadvertently, I take another look at myself as the word human slips through the NeuraLink.

"Well, canine in my case. The important point is: You never gave up,you fought on. Even if I - damn it, I don't even know how much I reallyam of my old me! I only know you for a few days, I think you are muchstronger than you think. What you have experienced, suffered ... I say it madeyou someone who has outgrown their own limits a long time ago. You'renot just some piece of complex software any more, that much even I cantell."

I reckon that you have no problems with discerning my reasoning, so you should see that I really mean what I say - this is not just "pep talk". Your answer still leaves me at a loss of words.

"The Liam I knew long ago, he ... he became one of my closest friends, mymost trusted confidant in the end. The relation we shared - it was one ofabsolute trust. The Liam you are now is not the same person - not just inbody, also in mind. When you first woke up after your re-embodiment wasdone, I ... my relation to the original you, it ... it almost made me harmyou fatally. You can not imagine how much hearing you say this means tome."

There seems to be a lot more going on between you and me than I was aware of so far. Or has been going on; a past life of another me only an artificial mind remembers? Makes a fascinating philosophical subject, for sure. But there is still more you have to tell me.

"What you said about me lacking a second point of view, and my fear of ... dying... you are right. I can not deny there is quite a lot of truth to this. Trust ... it is solong ago I could - did trust anyone but myself. I will trust you just like I trusted ...the former you. We will do this your way."

If only I could figure out how to smile with a snout.

"Lacking alternatives, I will take any vote of confidence at this point. Yours willdo."

And so we proceed with our impromptu planning session: Optimal route for reaching the individual manual release locks, drone emplacements with spare materials and air supply, choice of tools and equipment. Until we reach the subject of the demolition charges.

"How will we trigger the charges? Any piece of equipment with integrated circuitrywill fail in a matter of minutes given the proximity to the reactor core. For your spacesuit and equipment, I have used polymer and carbon fibre only, nothing metallic.Anything related to command and control is using the NeuraLink - the implants areorganic, not electronic."

Well, shit. That point hadn't crossed my mind yet. Okay, adapt and overcome ... think!

"Nothing metallic, nothing with integrated circuitry ... that limits our options. Notto mention this takes precise timing! Wiring the whole setup together with fibreoptics?"

The diagrams before me come to life again as a rapid sequence of cabling paths appear and disappear.

"Even with using the in-place conducts, there would not be enough timeto install a provisionary cable path that would allow a coordinated ignitionsequence."

What else besides physical wiring? How did we - that is, man - blow up stuff before there were electronic detonators? Wasn't covered by any of the manuals or training exercises I can remember. Live combat? Nothing I love trying to remember, but nothing besides electronic detonators either. So how was blowing up things handled further back ... what if I rewind the clock ...

"Clocks. That's it - mechanical clocks. We time the detonations with independentcountdowns, using - what is the name ... clockwork detonators. Completelymechanical - the cog wheels don't need to be metallic."

Another display comes up, detailing what seem to be 3D trajectories. Two colors highlighting motion paths of two separate objects - the reactor core and thePhoenix.

"This will require precise timing, Liam. I can synchronize the Phoenix's trajectorywith the detonation sequence to a limited degree, but in the best case this leaves onlyten to fifteen seconds as margin of error."

On my list of things that could go wrong, this is honestly an entry that ranks under the less worrisome ones.

"For a moment there, I was thinking you were going to say nanoseconds. We'llmake do. Can you get such detonators fabricated? And please, for my sake - makethem with big enough buttons. I'm not even sure I get colors right yet - use differentshapes and sizes."

"Noted - I have already started synthesizing the necessary materials. Yourequipment and the demolition charges will be ready in about three hours."

So it is set - we have a plan, and I have your support. Now I only need to convince myself that I can do this. No pressure, right? As surreal as the last days have already been, I am about to embark on a space walk over a starship that moves at well over hundred thousand kilometers per second. And not just for the sake of enjoying the view - to get rid of a "number with many zeroes attached" megaton-class nuclear device about to blow us into the neighbouring continuum.

"Ra's explosion will have an estimated yield of about 2,5 billion megatons. We aremoving at 125000 kilometers per second, on a diverging course after the reactor coreis decoupled. There will be several hunderd million kilometers of empty space betweenthe Phoenixand the explosion when it happens, so we will be safe. And I thought I wasworrying too much, Liam- we have a good plan, you will be doing fine. There is nouse in worrying about things you think you are not up to, when in fact youare."

Who is doing the pep talk now? Wasn't that just me a few moments ago? Not necessarily subtle, just like my own pep talk was. But that you try to have my back, just like I will try my best to have yours, is a very welcome consolation in the present moment.

"It will still be a while until everything is ready and in place. Working in space isextremely taxing, both physically and mentally. I suggest you try to get some rest inthe meantime, even if assume it will be difficult for you to find rest in a situation likeours."

That is sound advice. Worrying needlessly over a situation makes mastering it even more diffcult, but if I remember human nature right, it won't prevent me from doing so nevertheless. I must have felt like that in the past, but these memories still elude me. Locked away behind the hazy mists of a past long bygone, they might very well still be back on Earth. I wonder what my first self might have done to alleviate the anxiety of life and death matters - he must have seen his fair share as the Phoenix Initiative progressed, and matters back on Earth went over the tipping point.

"Can't hurt to get some rest, I certainly won't mind trying. Any place around hereI can go and try to get some shut-eye?"

"The central habitat module only has short distances to travel - the living quartersare practically next door. I have prepared one of the closest compartments for you tolive in. I can take you there right now, if you like."

One of my drone platform escorts is approaching, but I don't feel like being towed around for the rest of my time, however short that may be.

"Would you mind if I tried to get ... walk, drag myself ... there on my own? Ifigure I can use the exercise, and if I'm supposed to go space walking in a few hours, Ishould start with walking, no? Besides, I could really use some good old conversationright now, if you don't mind, CASSIE."

The drone backs off, heading off in the direction of the opposing exit - one of its manipulators indicating the way. Such a gesture wouldn't have made it into my conscious attention in times past. Here, alone on an interstellar spaceship far away from anyone and anything I've ever known, it is a small measure of comfort, even coming from an anorganic machine. Before I can get moving, a more practical problem comes up: The ... gecko pads ... are still holding me firmly in place.

"Uh ... little help here, please! How do these things work?"

This peculiar feeling of amusement is back, this time not tainted by sorrow and regret. Whatever sense of humor you have developed, by yourself or from past interactions with ... humans, it seems to be very refined indeed. All that is missing is actual laughter.

"Wait, let me unlock the pads for you. The default setting is to keep up adherenceas long as you put weight on the foot - they will automatically adjust to yourgait. You can also set them to keep you in place, just as I did, and forgot todeactivate."

Why do I have the feeling this lapse in memory wasn't entirely unintentional? Be it as it may, I set out to take my first own steps into this new life. Carefully getting up, both hand-paws still firmly holding the edge of the table, I lift myself upright. Just as instructed, I put down one foot on the ground - the pad underneath instantly adhering to the cool surface of the metal-polymer plating of the floor. The second foot follows, and as soon as I am somewhat certain of my footing, I let go of the table.

"OK, let's do this ... easy does it."

If sense of balance and physics disagree, first steps tend to be awkward. The gecko pads do their part to secure me to the deck plating I was standing on, but technically there is no gravity - that is what my sense of balance stubbornly insisted on. Forward momentum and firmly planted foot paws wouldn't want to agree, so walking quickly devolves into stumbling forward. Luckily, falling was unneccessary - my legs manage to keep up, following and keeping up with the upper part of my body before my attempts to walk meet a too ungraceful end. I even make it to the door frame of the exit to the living quarters in one go, however not being ungrateful as my hand-paws find something to hold on, and to keep me upright.

"See ... easy did it! I ... I went the distance, all on my own."

The walking trial continues, more careful this time. It seems I am getting the hang of...

Subtle nudges in the right direction - grasping a cup, lifting it to an unfamiliarmuzzle. A torrent of emotions threatening to drown a newly awakened self, kept atbay by unseen barriers. Thoughts and voices just beyond the edge of perception -mine, and yet not mine.

"CASSIE... did I really just walk here ... all by myself? The past days, since youwoke me up for the first time ... I do not remember much of it. There are glimpses ...flashbacks for lack of a better word. From what little I remember ... there always wasmore than just my own thoughts, my own voice. That ... was you, wasn'tit?"

Silence again persists, only this time not for a few seconds, but for what must have been over two minutes as my stride gradually becomes more confident - I'm still counting meters per minute, mind you. During this time I spend largely focused on practical locomotion coordination, I can still feel ...

or hear, it is hard to discern between different senses ... the general harmonicsyour thoughts and musings. It is like listening to a rainbow, tasting its colors -how do I know what a rainbow is? I can't remember ever having seen oneback on Earth, weather and seasons long since having been messed up thehard way by climate change. Words have a hard time describing what this...

"... link between us. Your re-embodiment was - difficult. I did not anticipate thecomplications your new physique would. Not to the dramatic degree you had to gothrough, at least. To avoid catastrophic damage to your self's integrity, I had tointerfere. The link I established between us is far more profound than the NeuraLinktechnology should usually allow. This seems to be why you have had insights into myhigher cognitive routines."

Though partially obscured by another lapse in attention, I feel like this explanation should leave me a lot more alarmed than it actually manages to do. Given the present situation, I'll leave it what's done is done - sorting out the implications. whatever they may be, will have to wait until the danger of a violent and fiery death would be less imminent.

"233 steps on your own, congratulations! You are adapting quite well, not a singlefall or hitting the wall muzzle-first. These are your quarters, outfitted with everythingI thought you would need or find useful. We can outfit your rooms to your liking whenwe are done messing with my reactors."

And indeed, I have reached my interim quarters, all on my own. Amazingly spacious for spaceship quarters. Well, at least as far as my understanding of spaceship quarters goes. There's a main living room, even outfitted with a sofa and accompanying table in front of a large view screen. An assortment of lockers and shelves line the walls, with intermitting empty sections of wall plating seemingly intended for the application of personal decorations. To the left, a smaller bed room; to the right, what seems to be a small work room, complete with a desk and office chair. At the moment, the bed room is the most alluring of the three - even if I don't like to admit it, even this rather short walk through a zero-g environment has contributed considerably to wearing me out.

Speaking of zero-g: The bed, if I can call it that, is a rather curious design. More akin to a sleeping bag with an attached set of belts and straps than the hazy image my memories fathom as bed. Eyeing the contraption curiously, I have to realize that even an everyday piece of furniture is making me realize how far away I really am from anything familiar - and how far space is beyond all of my abilities.

"Go figure - even sleeping is a real adventure around these parts. Space, huh?Should I even dare ask about the sanitary accessories? No, wait - I'll enjoy a fewmore hours of ignorance."

Trying to get the collection of straps in order after crawling into the sleeping bag - which turns out to be some sort of astonishingly light carbon-fiber compound - I try settling into a comfortable position before allowing the harness mechanism to tighten around torso and abdomen.

"I will wake you as soon as everything is ready for your excursion to space, or ifsomething should change dramatically concerning the state of the reactor core. Untilthen, I can see to it that you will have an undisturbed rest, if you want me to helpwith that."

Sharing your dreams with someone? Not by means of idealism, as we did so long ago when we had volunteered for the Phoenix Initiative. No, literally - a thought that would have deeply troubled me, had it not been for the past weeks. Years, considering this new body of mine had to grow up for quite some time in a gestation pod. To be honest, I wouldn't mind someone to watch over me, alone as I would otherwise be with my dreams; or rather nightmares, which I am much more likely to expect than their peaceful, tranquil kin.

"I don't mind your company, CASSIE. There's one request I have: Please let mydreams go on as they are as long as they're not getting too ... disturbing. If you coulddo that for me, I can look forward to some undisturbed rest without a need formedication."

With that, I turn on my side, eyes finally closing, the sleeping bag I'm wrapped in a comfortable measure of security in an alien universe. The drowsiness that accompanies oncoming sleep is a feeling even this new body seems to know very well ... your words are my last conscious perception before awareness slips away into the deep realms of the subconscious.

"Sleep well, old friend. I will keep watch over you - as I have so long ago, so will Ido now."