To Guard Against the Dark by Julie E. Czerneda

Author:Julie E. Czerneda
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DAW
Published: 2017-10-10T04:00:00+00:00

Between was failing!

I opened my eyes to find myself back in NothingReal, in a box.

Before either—or both—or all—could cause me to panic, the top of the box split open and moved aside. Staring down at me was a Whirtle in a helmet. A Human-sized helmet. A helmet that stayed put because the Whirtle had stuffed the opening around its slender neck with socks. Colorful socks.

Some had stripes.

It was impossible to panic, even about the end of the universes, faced with a Whirtle in a helmet held on by striped socks, so I did the only thing I could. I smiled and said, “Hello.”

“Hello.” Its voice was muffled but clear. Tentacles appeared in my view, slipping with care behind my shoulders. “Would you like to sit, Fem?”

“Please.” The tentacles were stronger than they appeared, though I found it odd to see them spring from sleeves meant for arms like mine.

I was in what had been a med cocoon, now quickly turning itself back into a cot topped with a comfortable mattress. My cleaned skin was free of staples and glue, both replaced by medplas matched to the healthy flesh around it. The only area still red and sore was my left hip, though I discovered, as the Whirtle helped me, I could move it without an added twinge.

Clean felt wonderful. Everything did, leading me to suspect the med unit had administered a stim along with whatever else it detected this body required.

The Whirtle hugged itself, a sign of happiness as I recalled, then one tentacle freed itself to point at my chest. “Orchids.”

I looked down. Rael had flowers tattooed around her nipples. My nipples. While the effect was artistic, I felt myself blush for no reason. “Is there clothing for me?”

“Yes,” another voice. “I took the liberty, Fem di Sarc.”

The name was as much a shock as seeing, while not smelling, the Lemmick standing at the end of the cot, though it did explain the helmet on the Whirtle. Rael was di Sarc as well, I reminded myself. “Thank you. Constable,” I added, for she wore an enforcer’s uniform. And was covered in what looked suspiciously like a balloon. “I could be dreaming,” I announced, the truth being important.

“I can assure you, you are not. My name is Two-Lily Finelle. I’m partnered with Russ-Ell Terk, who is also on board. You know Captain Morgan.”

And I’d orchids on my now-enthused nipples.

If there was a hint of desperation in my reach for the clothes in her arms, I’d excellent reason. Rael was exquisite, with or without tattoos, and the last thing I wanted in this life or any other—

—was to watch Morgan respond to her beauty.

Petty, I scolded myself. Worse. Ridiculous. To be jealous of my own body, borrowed or not; one I’d inhabit no longer than it took to find the remaining Stolen and guide them back to AllThereIs.

None of it stopped me pulling on the clothes as quickly as possible.

To my relief, they were blue spacer coveralls, used but mended and clean.

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