Her body had felt strange, yes. But
now, so did her mind. Just as soon as she had shaken off the seasickness and
felt she could join the others to carry on her duties, these new attacks
started to interfere with her concentration, and then her ability to function
at all. It was almost like the seasickness triggered this new feeling. To
Digambar, it was especially worrying because she hadn’t felt this way during
other exoports. Moreover, the other crew didn’t feel this way at all. The rest
of them had recovered from the grueling pangs of seasickness. They were
carrying out their responsibilities – and hers – without complaint.
They had already begun practicing
with the sextant to master the celestial navigation so critical to an event
where the ship’s systems were damaged. Beyond that, they were indulging in
their exposure to earthsense. They shared these moments together and struggled
to tamp down all the urges that bubbled up inside their teeming bodies. It was
a special time of discovery and pleasure. The exosouls reveled in experiential
bliss, indulging the nuances of an uncanny physic obscured from their lives,
manipulating a life abandoned by their people in a fleeting present
categorically foreign from their own.
Both Calliope and Arman had explained
to her that sometimes, exosouls can require longer adjustment periods. “Each
body is different,” Arman had told her. “The soul and the body are at odds in
the beginning, but eventually they get along.”
Digambar knew that the sensations had been growing since her training began at Yellow Reserve, but they were subtle before, and she had attributed them to the earlier afflictions that were expected to have dissipated by now. She thought they were simply aftereffects from the initial shock of exoporting, like sore muscles after an extended hike. The ringing in her ears, the stiffness in her spine, the aching in the roots of her teeth. She had been so eager to get underway, that she rebuffed these signals. She refused to raise them to Arman during the daily check-ins. At night, when she lay on the thin mattress of the Yellow Reserve exosoul quarters, she was only slightly fearful that those early struggles might worsen at sea. Now, those worries were realized.
Ready to read it! I have great expectations from the "nordic noir" genre and I am curious about how it works with SF.
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