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canyouhearthelight · 5 years

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The Miys, Ch. 50

The past week has been an abominably wild ride. I’m in the U.S, and we have had entirely too many shooting recently. Add to that the fact that our election season is starting to ramp up, and the vitriol is spewing at work. I’m a very opinionated person when it comes to politics and human rights (this really shouldn’t be a surprise if you’ve followed this far), and I try to keep the majority of it out of this story and off this blog. That said, I’m down for some discourse if any of you want to message me.

Moving to the actual story: This chapter gives a bit of insight into where the story is going next, plus some of the background stuff I always have cluttering up my head. It always gives me good material to show the different personalities and skill sets of the main and secondary characters. Overall, I really like how this chapter turned out.

And don’t worry - that difficult conversation is coming very soon.

I managed to compose myself by the time the men came into my sister’s public room, but only just. I hardly noticed the jostling on the couch as Tyche refused to move from my side and allow Maverick and Conor to sandwich me in between them like usual. She elbowed me to get my attention, and only then did I realize that she was still sitting next to me. Maverick on my other side, with Conor on the floor leaning against mine and Maverick’s legs.

Antoine looked so amused at the situation, I thought he might explode. When I arched an eyebrow at him, he just shook his head and settled into the one perfectly empty chair. “So, the festival?” he ventured.

Thank you for the safe ground, I thought before responding. “Overall, huge success. I still have to debrief with Alistair tomorrow, but preliminary reports are pretty good. There was a minor kerfluffle with a vendor before everything got set up, but we got that resolved pretty tidily. I think so, at least.”

Tyche shook her head. “I don’t recall any vendor issues.”

“Exactly,” I pointed out. “Originally, there was going to be a location that specialized in a certain pork product, and Alistair caught it when the vendor wanted to be stationed where the Jainist cuisine ended up being.”

“But that was between….” Maverick trailed off, horrified. Conor’s shoulders shook with laughter, resulting in getting a swat on both shoulders – one from the pilot, one from my sister. “Dude, it’s not funny! That’s just deliberately being rude. You don’t put pork between two groups who have religious prohibitions against it!”

Conor held his hands up in surrender. “I’m laughing at the tongue-lashing our Sophie probably gave the poor sod, I swear!”

“Actually, I didn’t.” Four heads turned to stare at me in disbelief. “Seriously. It was so much worse than you’re thinking, but I managed not to chew anyone out… much. Remember all the gourmet bacon that was everywhere at the festival? That was the guy. For whatever reason, the vendor and Simon thought there was nothing wrong with having a bacon-themed stall.”

“At the same event that was intended to help everyone recover from the attack on the ship by a certain terrorist group?” Antoine asked quietly, in a tone that I had learned meant he was boiling mad.

“Yep,” I popped the last consonant in emphasis. “I called him, pointed out how tasteless it was, and we decided instead to let the other alcoves feature the wares. To his credit, it never even crossed his mind that it was a bad idea. He was focused on the flavor list, and the vendor was focused on showing off like everyone else was.”

He nodded thoughtfully as my sister spoke. “So, the bacon gets out there, in the best possible way, without anyone being distracted by the connotation.”

“Pretty much. And, honestly? I think that particular vendor got better coverage than anyone else at the event… that stuff was everywhere. Maple and bacon donuts, chocolates with candied bacon, on burgers, wrapped around seafood, you name it.”

“And that was the only vendor issue?” she asked.

I nodded, before switching gears. “Now, I want to hear about the low-stim portion of the event. I have the official reports from everyone, and Alistair is going to give the highlights tomorrow, but I want to get an idea from you three how it plays against the regular session.” Automatically, I started playing with Conor’s hair, just because it was by my hand. I had no idea how many times I had done that in the past, but I was very conscious of it right now.

Maverick spoke up, snapping me out of my distracted thoughts. “Well, it was a lot calmer, better lit, pretty much as intended. With a very few exceptions, the vendors were much more relaxed during the low-stimulus session, too. I think that had a positive impact on the attendees, since they felt less like a bother.”

“There was definitely less resistance from the vendors in regards to food preferences in the earlier portion,” Antoine added. “In the first session, when presented with a list of foods that were not an option, they largely cooperated. However, when we went back, this dropped by an estimated thirty percent.”

“That’s disappointing,” I muttered.

Maverick reached over to squeeze my hand gently. “Hey, on the plus side, the Japanese vendor kept the natto covered the entire time.”

“That was surprisingly popular,” my sister pointed out. “Probably the novelty, from what you two told me about it. We may need to be on the lookout for natto-eating challenges in the near future.”

I shook with revulsion before composing myself. “To be fair, there are people who do actually like it, and it’s supposed to be very nutritious. Don’t let our bias stop you from trying it. Just… please don’t do it when either of us is around?”

Conor took that chance to jump into the conversation. “Any of the typical disturbances you would see from a big event like that? Fights, drunk and disorderlies, that kind of thing?”

“I haven’t heard anything,” I responded cautiously. “And the alcohol was limited to two drinks per attendee, non-transferable. Even at The Undine, the drinks were low or no content after each person had their allotment. Xiomara will have the exact data, though.”

“Oh!” Tyche grabbed my arm for attention. “The quiet rooms? Huge success. I ducked in several of them both times I was there, and even toward the end of the festival, people were really respectful of them. Any groups were small, and they kept their voices at a whisper or a very low – “ She waved her hand at the word she was looking for. “Mutter. Not mutter. The other one. But that, yeah.”

Antoine chuckled at her excitement. “Yes, the attendees were keeping the noise to a minimum, as she says. It felt very much like walking into a library. You may receive some requests to keep the rooms in place, Sophia.”

Regretfully, I shook my head. “I wish we could, but the majority of the space we used for the festival was only loaned to us by people who actually live there. If those people want to keep the rooms as they are, they are more than welcome to the free re-decorating, but those are still private residences. In fact, most of the people have already moved back in.” A collective groan came from everyone in the room, Conor going so far as to bury his face in my knee out of disappointment. “The best I can do is offer the design plans freely to everyone on the Ark, and I can talk to the Council about the demand for spaces like that. Maybe we can set up a few small libraries or botanical gardens throughout the ship, if Miys is okay with it.”

“I think the botanical gardens will go over well,” Conor offered, glancing up. “Noah is fond of air-cleaning plants, it turns out. Calls them little trooplings.” When Maverick furrowed his brows so hard it looked like it hurt, our resident pseudo-botanist clarified. “Hujylsogox are mycogenetic, which means they evolved from fungus-like lifeforms. Mushrooms grow in colonies, clusters, and troops. The word’s probably not the same, but the closest the translators can get to the concept of a baby Hujylsogox is ‘troopling’.”

“But why would Miys compare plants to baby-thems?” Maverick asked, glancing around for explanation. Tyche, Antoine, and I just stared at Conor, waiting for an explanation.

With a sigh, he continued. “Noah – or Miys – absorbs nutrients and sustenance from the air, constantly. It has to be supplemented with rations, sure, but it’s a function they can’t control. Miys jokes about not having a sense of smell, but they can definitely tell how clean the air is, and they’re sensitive to caustic fumes.”

“Just like the plants,” Tyche ventured.

He nodded. “It’s really similar. The plants are a bit less sensitive to things like fumes from spicy foods, though.” Tyche and I flushed at the reminder of the time we ran Miys out of my quarters while making dinner. Antoine smiled, but Conor roared with laughter and told the story to Maverick.

When he finished, Tyche jumped in. “In our defense, we didn’t know the smell of the chili sauce reducing would give Noah actual burns. The fumes or vapor, or whatever you want to call it, had run a couple people off, but Noah told us before that they don’t have noses, so it never occurred to us that it would be a problem.”

“Nothing in what you just said argues against the fact that you two were deliberately cooking and eating something so spicy that people ran away and one needed treatment for burns,” Maverick pointed out.

“Miys pointed that out, too,” I admitted. “Okay, new topic, before I die of embarrassment. Festival is out of the way, so the gravity adjustment is scheduled for two days from now.”

Antoine leaned forward with laser-focus. “We need to expect increased anxiety and paranoia, along with some fatigue.”

Tyche and I nodded, while Maverick made a noise of agreement. Conor glanced around at all of us. “Okay, superbrains, tell the dumb lug what I’m not understanding here.”

I rolled my eyes at the self-assigned appellation - he had just given us a small lecture on the similarities between Miys biology and that of a potted plant - and gestured for Antoine, following the evening’s convention of deferring to the people with the most expertise. He nodded and explained, “The increase in gravity will only be five-percent of Earth gravity, putting the entire ship at 1.1. It is not enough for anyone to really notice, beyond some minor discomfort, as everyone has already adjusted to the initial increase to 1.05. However, our brains know something is ‘not right’ for lack of a better term. Not necessarily wrong or dangerous, but not the same and not what we have grown to consider normal, similar to if everything was moved two centimeters to the left – just because you cannot tell exactly what changed, it does not mean you cannot tell something has changed. This results in increased anxiety and sometimes paranoia.”

Conor nodded as it started to make sense to him. “Even knowing ahead of time that the gravity will be adjusting, it can still happen?”

I snorted violently. “Never expect people to read all their mail.”

“Good point,” he conceded. “How many total adjustments to gravity are we going to have?”

“Ten, total,” Tyche answered as she flicked open her data pad, shrugging apologetically. “I know, I know. Family rule: no data pads on dinner nights. But I don’t have all the information memorized, and this is a good discussion.” Scrolling through the information, she stopped and mimed tapping a screen. “Kepler 442b has half-again as much gravity as Earth, which is more than our scientists Before had initially estimated. Its star is slightly bluer than Sol, but not quite as bright. It isn’t tidally locked, but just barely. A year there is about three Terran months, with the days half that long. It’s also colder than Earth, due to its star being smaller, but not by much once you compensate for Terran global warming and Kepler 442b having a denser atmosphere.” She scowled up at me. “We need to name our new home, you know. I thought you were going to work on that.”

“I’ve had a lot on my plate,” I objected before sighing and slouching against the back of her couch. “But you’re right. We need to get on that. I want to do an Ark-wide poll, but I need to set the criteria and have it approved by the Council, first. Nobody actually wants to name our second chance ‘Colony McPlanetface’, and I would like to weed out the multitudinous variations of home or dirt.”

“Have people submitting ideas include a justification,” Maverick pointed out. “That will weed out a lot of people who aren’t serious, if they have to include an essay.”

I grinned widely at him, squeezing his arm in affection. “That’s a great idea, actually. Granted, I don’t look forward to reading all those essays – even if a single-digit percent of people submit, that’s still hundreds – but at least it will limit the submissions that are intended as a joke.” I thought for a moment. “And… if we include the criteria that the name cannot be certain words or versions of certain words, Zach can probably write a program to weed those out, as well.” I turned to my sister and Antoine, nudging Conor gently.

“Start thinking of names we don’t want to see. I’ll send a message to the Council tomorrow asking for their input and running the idea by them tentatively. And whoever is keeping track, add Goldilocks to that list. It was unoriginal to start with, and now it just feels cursed.”

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#the miys #humans are weird #original sci fi #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #writing #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia

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joeybelle · 7 years

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Starlight - Chapter 9

Relationship: Cassian Andor x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature

Tags: Pre-Rogue One, Slow Burn, Romance, Foul Language, Hurt/Comfort

In the weeks that followed, Cora’s life had fallen into a pleasant routine. The rebel base was slowly becoming her home, and Cora was feeling a little more comfortable there every day. She was still spending most of her time in the med bay, but she wasn’t confined to it anymore.

After Doctor Crane insisted that a medic can’t do their job properly if they don’t have all the information at their discretion, she was allowed to access the medical database. She was still monitored, of course. She imagined that sticking her nose into something that wasn't her business would make numerous alarms go off, flashing lights and all. But now at least she could do her job without any hindrances.

She also started doing more tasks that weren't her responsibilities as a medic, like restocking the medical supplies when needed. Which was fortunate, because she got to meet the people in Storage, and they were nice enough to help her find some unused things to furnish her room. It wasn’t a lot, and it certainly wasn’t fancy, but it looked a lot better than just an empty room with stone walls and no windows. She had some shelves put up that she planned on filling with books, if she ever got her hands on any other besides her beloved romance novel; she had a new coffee table, which was actually just a normal, sturdier table with its legs sawn to the right size; she had another wardrobe, just as standard issue as the other, but she planned on painting them if the ever had the time; a few more chairs, a colourful rug no one knew why they had in storage, and some cushions that could be used to sit on. She never had any guests, so the coffee table remained unused, but she was starting to make friends.

The first person she could call a friend, besides Doctor Crane, was one of the combat medics, a tall and beautiful Twi’lek, with a loud mouth and absolutely no filter, that went by the name Lewella (“It’s not really my name,” she explained, “but you guys pronounce it in Basic like you’re barfing, so this is the best compromise I could come up with.”). She just came one day to the med bay, introduced herself, grabbed Cora’s arm and dragged her to the mess hall to have lunch together. There was no distrust in her eyes, she just accepted her as one of theirs. Since then she would insist that whenever she was on base, which didn’t happen that often, seeing how she spent most of the time off-world, they would have at least one meal together.

Another one of the medics who was particularly friendly to her was Aidan, a human medic that she used to be paired with in the beginning, when they didn’t trust her to be left alone in the med bay. He mostly worked in the ER downstairs, but would also take the shifts whenever Cora and Doctor Crane had a day off at the same time. She’d usually meet him when their shifts overlapped and he’d always be friendly and smiling and would bring her a cup of hot coffee or some treats from the cafeteria when she forgot to eat.

All of the medics were nice to her, and a few even went as far as to thank her for taking some of the workload off their shoulders, so she enjoyed dropping by the emergency med bay at the end of her shifts to say hi.

“It’s incredibly boring being grounded, don’t you think?” Lewella asked her one day, when Cora had finished her shift and went to visit. They were having lunch in front of the med bay, seated on two crates that they hoped weren’t filled with ammunition, watching the ever present buzzing of people in the hangar.

“It’s all the same to me, I was never part of the action,” Cora replied, poking with her fork at an unidentifiable bit of meat in her stew. She was surprised to notice, once she got out of jail, that the shitty food they used to give her wasn’t especially made that shitty for her, that was exactly what they served to everyone else.

“Wow, that’s a pity. What’s the use of being in the army if you don’t get to smash a few heads?”

“I’m perfectly content with not smashing heads, thank you very much,” Cora laughed.

“Oh look,” the woman pointed towards the elevators with her fork, “Doctor Crane’s coming to visit with a datapad in his hands. I advise you to run before he sees that you are free and gives you more things to do.”

Cora shrugged. “He never gives me more things to do, he always insists on sending me home.”

“That’s cause you’re a workaholic. Hello, Doc! How’s it going?”

“Quite alright,” he replied, smiling. “I was actually looking for you, Lewella.”

“Uh-oh.” She turned her head towards Cora, a look of mock horror imprinted on her face.

Doctor Crane cocked an eyebrow. “I see you’re free tomorrow, I need some help with the trimestrial health screenings for the Intelligence Division. They have already been notified and most of them will be on base tomorrow and the day after. It’s a lot of work and we don’t have much time so I need help.”

“Sorry Doc,” Lewella said, finishing the last of her lunch, “find someone else to do it, and I’ll cover their shift. I’d rather do a double shift, no, a triple shift instead of having to do the same tests over and over again on 100 people.” She shook her head. “Plus it’s almost entirely useless paperwork. I’m a combat medic, not a secretary…” she complained.

Doctor Crane’s brows furrowed and he opened his mouth to say something, but Cora interrupted him. “I could do it. If Lewella covers my shift tomorrow I can do it.”

Cora was certain she’d never seen anyone look at her with more love in their eyes than Lewella when she heard her offer. “I know you’re the nicest friend there is and you’d do anything for me, but I have to warn you it’s the most boring thing in the world.”

Cora laughed. “It’s ok. We had almost 10000 stormtroopers on a ship, imagine doing their checkups. I’m used to it.”

“Kriff!” Lewella looked disgusted.

“If it’s ok with you Doc, I’ll do it,” she told the doctor, who was still glaring at the Twi’lek.

“It’s for the best,” Lewella added. “I may have to fly soon anyway. It’s rumoured that we’ll take off two days from now.”

“Alright,” Doctor Crane gave up, letting out a frustrated sigh. No matter how hard he tried to look tough, he could never stay mad at the younger doctors. “But I do expect you to show up early and do your job properly. That includes all the paperwork,” he said, pointing a finger at her.

“Sir, yes Sir!”

He smiled, and turned to Cora. “We start early tomorrow. Arm yourself with a lot of patience, you will need it.” He handed her the datapad. “You have the list of tests that have to be performed, I think they’re familiar to you. There’s also a questionnaire that the higher ups want us to fill in for every patient. We’ll be splitting the workload evenly, so you won’t have to test that many people in one day, don’t worry. And that’s about it.”

“Okay,” Cora replied, taking the datapad. It didn’t seem so terrible.

“I’ll be going then, before the med droids start to panic that I’ve left and won’t ever come back,” he snickered. “Lewella, I’m expecting you tomorrow fresh and ready for a new shift.”

“Of course, Doc! When aren’t I fresh and ready for work?” They both said goodbye and waved as the older doctor left. Even though he was their superior, rarely did he act like one, preferring to be a friend instead, and he was respected for that. Even though they always joked with him and Lewella complained about everything, in the end they still did what they were asked to do. “If I get four hours of sleep tonight, I’ll be happy,” Lewella snorted.

“Why, you have big plans for tonight?” Cora asked, turning on the data pad and looking through the list of tests.

“A few of us are meeting for drinks later tonight. You wanna come?”

“Not really,” she said, not feeling very sociable.

“Oh come on, it will be fun. You get the chance to meet a few people. Don’t become a hermit,” Lewella pleaded.

“I have to interview 100 people tomorrow, Lew. Can you imagine doing that hangover?”

“It may suck a little less.”

“Why all these sex related questions in this questionnaire?” Cora asked, raising an eyebrow. “Is this a sex health checkup?”

“What? Let me see.” Lewella took the datapad and burst out laughing. “I aaaaalmost regret not being the one to ask these questions.”

“There’s an epidemic of STDs on base, we’ll all have to get tested soon. And I guess we’ll all have to fill one of those,” said Alara, one of the other female medics, who had just joined them in front of the med bay. “Anyway, everyone just assumes the Intelligence Department is the one to blame for bringing them home. The more exotic ones, at least.”

“Why?” Cora was genuinely puzzled.

“Because some people live with this fantasy that all they do is fuck the information out of their informants,” Lewella explained. “I’m not saying some don’t do that, because I know for sure some do, but most of them are way too careful to catch a bug.”

An image of Cassian dressed in an imperial uniform boning someone against a wall in an empty corridor on a star destroyer flashed through her mind and to her horror it was probably pretty visible on her face because the two doctors started laughing.

“You scarred her for life,” said Alara.

“I’m really curious where your mind went just now.” There was a playful glint in Lewella’s eyes.

“I’ve just imagined General Draven having sex,” she lied, “and I can assure you it’s not a pleasant image.”

“Well, it is a pleasant image in the heads of at least a few people I know,” Alara laughed.

“Really?” The disbelief was visible on Cora’s face. “I don’t wanna judge people’s taste in men, but really?”

“Don’t be mean to our favourite general, Cora. He’s pretty popular with some of the ladies.” Lewella laughed and Cora shrugged. “Besides, you never know who’s gonna trigger a case of the butterflies in you.”

“A case of what?”

“Butterflies. You know, the feeling in the pit of your stomach,” Lewella explained getting up from her crate. “Tickling, growing, warm and fluffy until it engulfs your whole being.” She exemplified by tickling Cora’s stomach than wiggling her fingers away. Cora looked at her dumbfounded.

“Ummm… no. I’m good. I’m great actually. Without butterflies.” She grimaced.

“Never say never, darling. Actually, you could really come with me tonight, I know a few people who’d like to meet you.”

“Yeah, no thanks.”

“Hey Cora, isn’t that your mechanic?” Alara pointed towards an approaching figure. “I think he needs a band aid again,” she laughed. “You certainly gave him a case of the butterflies.”

“You know what?” Cora asked, promptly getting up and yawning. “I am very tired, I will have a terrible shift tomorrow so I’ll get as much sleep as I can, starting now. He’s all yours, ladies! Have a good day,” she took the datapad and left towards the elevators.

“The invitation still stands, you know,” Lewella yelled after her. “If you change your mind you know where to find me.”

Cora waved and left the hangar. The underground level was pleasantly quiet even at this busy hour. Occasionally you could hear one of the ships taking off, but she was used to that sound. Sometimes she found herself missing the constant rumbling sound of ship engines.

She punched in the access code and opened the door to her quarters. The room was never fully dark thanks to the light bulbs in the terrarium, but the dim light was a little eerie.

“Hello Ben! I’m home,” she said to the lichen, placing the datapad on the desk near the terrarium and turning on the lights. It took her weeks, but she finally managed to take her lichen out of the prison cell. She had to use every ounce of slyness she was capable of to convince the guards that she needed a lichen that was growing on the wall of her former cell. They may have suspected she had something to hide, but in the end they brought it to her. She built him a makeshift terrarium from a medical tank and now he seemed to be doing well on his new rock.

Before she finally went to sleep, Cora took another look on the datapad. There was a list of patients she had previously overlooked. First name on that list: Andor, Cassian Jeron. Her stomach contracted painfully.

“Please go to Doctor Crane,” she mumbled. “Please! If there is anything holy in this world, please spare me.”

But either Divinity didn’t give a fuck about her pleas or Doctor Crane had a twisted sense of humour, because the first person that entered the small consultation room was indeed Cassian.

“Good morning, Captain,” she greeted him, suddenly regretting not going out the night before. Being a little drunk would have helped her give less fucks.

“Good morning, Doctor,” he greeted back, taking his jacket off and placing it on the back of a chair. “What did you do to be punished to the medical equivalent of a desk job?”

“I volunteered,” she replied with a smirk.

He narrowed his eyes and studied her. “You really don’t have to try so hard to get them to like you.”

Cora threw him a sideways glance. The assumption that she was doing this to gain their trust made her think that he still viewed her as not truly belonging to the Rebellion. It hurt a little.

“I’m not trying to get anyone to like me, Captain. I’m just doing my job.” She wondered if he was going to be difficult. He seemed a little more arrogant than usual and she could feel the tension in the air. He seemed somewhat defensive, Cora noticed. His eyes kept following her through the room, like he expected her to do something outrageous if he lost sight of her. “Sometimes it’s a little more exciting than this.” She smiled, trying to break the tension. She really didn’t want to argue. “Shirt off.”

He didn’t complain this time and did what he was told. Seeing as he probably went through this every three months, Cora couldn’t understand his reluctance to let her check on his wounds a few weeks back. She figured that after so many checkups you’d get used to doctors putting you under the microscope, but she could be wrong.

The med droid drew his blood as Cora studied the injuries she had treated in the past. The ones caused by the poisonous vines had healed properly, leaving almost no scars, but the skin on his ribs was still a little raised and had a pinkish colour. It was probably still a little sensitive so she refrained from touching it, even though she really wanted to poke him in the ribs just to see if he was ticklish. She tried to remember if she’d ever seen him laugh.

“Keep putting bacta patches on it and the scar will eventually disappear,” she advised. He nodded absent-mindedly, but Cora was sure he wouldn’t do it unless someone forced him. She wondered if the imperial droid, K-2SO, would be willing to do it. Probably.

Once his blood sample was inserted in the lab machine to be processed, Cora moved Cassian to the full body scanner. He took his place obediently and waited for her to go on with the examination.

“How have you been feeling lately, Captain?” she started asking the usual questions while comparing what the scanner showed to his medical file and inputting new data.

“Good,” he answered.

“Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary: unusual pains, any change in sleeping pattern, excessive fatigue, trouble breathing or anything of sorts?”

“No,” he answered mechanically. The scanner showed that he had lost some weight since the last check up, but otherwise he seemed to be healthy. She could see the outline of past injuries and a quick scroll revealed that he had a lot of them on record.

“Have you been experiencing nightmares, fits of excessive anger, sadness, inability to concentrate?”

His heart rate went up for a second before it went back to normal. “No.” A lie.

“Have you been experiencing any type of emotional distress?”

“No.” His heart rate remained steady. He was an experienced liar and he seemed to be expecting the question this time.

Cora tried hiding a smile and keeping her eyes glued to the screen while asking the next question. “Are you sexually active?” Heart rate gone up.

“What?”

“It’s in the questionnaire.” She turned the data pad over so he could see. “I have to ask those questions, I didn’t just wake up really curious this morning.” He eyed it quickly, but it did nothing to reassure him, instead leaving him with an embarrassed smile on his face. “Everyone’s going to go through this, so...”

He laughed nervously. “Why does it matter anyway?”

“STD epidemic on base.” She shrugged, moving over to the lab machine and picking up the results. “Or so they say, no one complained about anything to me,” she mumbled.

“Maybe it’s not the best way to make a first impression.” Cora tried to imagine how different her life might have been today if, instead of almost dying, she had met Cassian when he would have gotten a rather violent case of space herpes on his willy.

“I’m a doctor,” she finally said, coughing to hide a laugh. “I’m here to treat people, not to judge their sex habits.” She took a few steps closer to him. “And speaking of sex,” she smiled cheekily, “are you sexually active, Captain?”

“Yes,” he said looking her in the eye, barely containing a smile. It seemed he had gotten over his unease quite quickly. Either that, or he was hiding it under the smile. There was a playful glint in his eyes and Cora had to wonder if maybe he was also flirting a little.

“Do you have a stable sexual partner?” Cora held his gaze trying to go back to being professional, but failing miserably. There are things you just can’t come back from, she thought.

“No.” He was still staring at her and still smiling, and Cora became suddenly aware that he was standing half naked in front of her. Her heart skipped a beat. Not cool, Cora.

“Did you have more than one sexual partner in the past six months?” She looked at the data pad and kept her eyes glued to it, but she could still feel his gaze fixing her.

“Yes.”

His sex life was certainly a lot more eventful than hers had been in the past six months, but it came as no surprise. Thanks to the girls in the other med bay she was now imagining that the life of a rebellion spy was full of over-elaborate sexcapades.

“Predominantly on base or off base?”

“Off base.”

Well, there were definitely some perks to going on so many missions, she couldn’t stop herself from thinking. She tried telling herself that she should be more professional and not judge his behaviour, but she was a bit envious, she had to admit. She had no time for one sexcapade, let alone as many as she imagined he had been having.

“Did you experience anything out of the ordinary: discomfort during intercourse or after, pain, rashes?” she continued in a monotone voice, hoping he couldn’t read her mind.

“No.”

“Are you familiar with the usual contraceptive methods?”

“Yes.” He was grinning and Cora had a feeling he was having way too much fun. “But it wouldn’t hurt if you were kind enough to refresh my memory a little, Doctor. You know, just in case I forgot something.”

It was Cora’s turn to look at him in bewilderment. Luckily, she managed to take control of herself before she let out a confused “what?” that would have mirrored the Captain’s reaction to the sex questions. She took a deep breath, composing herself. The last time she had to explain to someone how to use contraceptives was in med school when she had to teach sex ed to a bunch of rowdy teenagers, and even then she wasn’t as flustered as she was now.

“Captain, if this is a joke…” she started.

“Do you think teaching people the benefits of safe sex is a joke, Doctor?” She wanted to strangle him.

“Of course not.” Cora pressed her lips together and wondered what to do. She really didn’t want to give him a half an hour long presentation on contraceptives, one that she was sure he didn’t need, just because he had decided to make fun of her. She looked around, but she was sure they had no fliers laying around and it was too late to print some. She made a mental note to expect this shit and be better prepared next time. “Look. I really don’t have time for this now, there are people waiting for me to do their check-ups,” she said, crossing her arms. “But I promise I will organize a seminar on this topic for you and anyone else who may have the same questions. Wouldn’t want to repeat myself.” She smiled.

“Will there be a demonstration?”

“I’ll make sure to bring a banana just for you.” She winked. He laughed and as he looked away from her, Cora realized she really liked the curve of his lips when he was smiling.

“Are there any other concerns about your sexual activity which you may want to discuss with your doctor?”

“No, Doctor. But I’ll certainly come to you if I ever experience any rashes or… discomfort during intercourse.”

Please don’t, she thought, but then remembered that he was still her patient and he should come to see her if anything was wrong with him. Even herpes. For a moment she regretted not becoming a mechanic.

“Alright then,” she said, turning off the data pad, relief written all over her face. “I’m done with you. Your blood tests were good, I didn’t see anything wrong on the scanner, you’re physically healthy.” There was still a hint of a smile on her face, but the tone of her voice had gotten back to being professional. “You’ve lost some weight, though, so I advise you to pay a little more attention to your diet and to get more rest.” She went to her desk and started scribbling on a piece of paper. “I am prescribing you some tonics, make sure to get them from medical supplies.”

He put on his shirt and grabbed the piece of paper, eyeing it suspiciously. She could see he had no intention to follow her prescription, but there was nothing she could do about it. “Thank you, Doctor. I guess I’ll see you around,” he said, grabbing his jacket and heading towards the door. She watched his retreating figure thinking that she may have been a little harsh judging him until now. Yes, he may have been stubborn or brash at times, and he certainly didn’t treat her fairly a few times, but he seemed like a good guy. She really appreciated that he vouched for her when they were discussing her freedom. She was here because and thanks to him, in the end.

“Captain,” she suddenly said, getting up. “I know we may have started on the wrong foot, but I want you to know that you can come to me whenever you have a problem. I don’t want you to think that just because we met in less than pleasant circumstances I resent you. I’ll be here if you ever need me.”

He stopped and looked at her, a small smile on his lips. “Of course, Doctor. I’ll keep that in mind.” Cora could see how the smile was slowly turning into a grin and she groaned internally. “Especially if I get any rashes or something. And please keep me updated on that seminar.” Cora facepalmed, against her best efforts. “Have a good day, Doctor.”

She followed him in the main area of the med bay, wishing once again to have her hands around his throat, slowly choking him to death.

“Hey Andor!” She heard Lewella yell, approaching them with two cups of coffee in her hands. “Have a cup of Caf with us.”

“I’m sorry, I’m in a hurry right now,” he said, not stopping.

“Of course you are,” Lewella groaned, handing Cora one of the cups. “So how did it go?” she asked her. “Did you manage to make him blush?”

“Does he ever blush?” Cora asked, taking a sip of the hot drink, her eyes still following the captain. Before he left the med bay he crumpled the piece of paper she had given him and threw it in the bin without a second thought. “Does he do that on purpose? Does he really want to get on my nerves?”

Lewella laughed. “Probably.”

“Next time I am tying him to the consultation table and force feeding the meds to him.”

“Be careful,” her friend said, patting her shoulder. “He may like it.”

Cora bust out laughing. “Who’s my next victim?” she asked, looking around the room for the next spy to interrogate and embarrass.

The rest of the day went by in a blur and without any incidents. Most of the time Cora got so caught up in her work that she didn’t notice the hours passing. But at the end of the day, when she left the med bay to go to bed, there was this feeling of fulfilment in her heart. She had a purpose, she helped people, she was necessary.

Unfortunately, that didn’t happen every day. They were at war after all, and war came with blood and death and suffering, and even though the doctors weren’t on the frontlines, they still experienced plenty of it.

There were days when they felt like the wounded would never stop coming, and they didn’t have enough hands to help them all. There were days when they lost track of how long their shifts were, and worked until they would pass out from exhaustion. There were days in which they saved people. And days in which they didn’t.

Cora always thought the smell of blood was the one that lingered the longest in your nostrils, making your hair stand up on the back of your neck whenever you got another whiff of it. It was undoubtedly linked with the sense of danger and as long as she could still smell it, her heartbeat wouldn’t slow down. No matter how many times she washed her hands and soaked them in disinfectant she could still feel it. It was already embedded in her clothes, her hair, her skin.

“Doc, can I take a ten minute break?” she asked Doctor Crane, after changing into a clean uniform, the blood stained one discarded in the laundry cart with all the others. “I need some fresh air.”

“Of course.” She thanked him and he gave her a compassionate smile in return. He looked a lot older in that moment, directing the droids through the chaos in the med bay. She felt guilty for taking a break when all the others were still working, but the emergencies had been dealt with and she had to calm down before she made any mistake. As one of the doctors in med school always said: “You have to learn to take care of yourself. You can’t heal others if you too are broken.”

She left the med bay and crossed the hallway, heading towards the door that lead outside. She did her best to remember the access code Cassian had used when he first took her out of her cell, and managed to get it right on the third try. It was a good thing that they weren’t paranoid enough to change them every week. Besides, why would they? No one could just fly off the platform.

The day was wetter than usual, a faint drizzle present since morning. The cloudy sky seemed to have engulfed the forest, making everything look gray and misty. Nonetheless, the air smelled clean and fresh. She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm her nerves. Her heart-rate was slowly going down.

“Rough day?” a familiar voice broke her reverie. She turned around to see Cassian joining her on the platform. His uniform was dirty and he looked tired. He didn’t seem like he was having such a good day either. “This is a good place to clear your head.”

“Yeah,” she replied, going back to looking at the scenery, hoping he didn’t notice the tremble in her voice or the way her hands were shaking whenever she wasn’t paying attention to them. He stopped besides her and she could see his profile out of the corner of her eye. Although still handsome, he had dark circles under his eyes and he seemed somehow even thinner. His beard was longer than usual and his hair was messy. She remembered not seeing him around for a while, so he must have been on a mission. “We lost someone today,” she finally found the courage to say. “I lost someone today.”

“I’m sorry.” He turned his head to look at her. His voice was gentle. “But it’s not your fault.”

“Maybe it’s not. I know we did our best. He didn’t stand a chance, not with those wounds...” She sighed, passing a hand over her face. “It doesn’t make it any easier, though.”

“I know. It never gets easier.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You just learn how to live with it.”

“Did you know them?” she asked, hoping the five pilots that had been brought to them that morning were somehow strangers. Out of the five that came back two passed away in the emergency room, and one on her operation table. The two that remained alive were in bacta tanks, with very few chances to make it through the night.

“Yes,” he replied, looking into the distance again. Cora had no idea what it felt like to lose a more than one comrade in a single day, but she understood grief. She had lost a few loved ones herself.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. There was nothing else to say. The rain had started to pick up, but Cora didn’t move. It was fitting weather for such a sad day.

She felt an arm around her shoulders and Cassian pulling her into a hug. She didn’t expect it, but it came so naturally that she didn’t fight against it and let her head rest on his shoulder, her nose only few centimeters away from his neck. She could feel the rough material of his jacket scratching her cheek and big droplets of rain falling on her face, but she hadn’t felt so sheltered and safe in a long time. His arm was pressed tightly on her back and she could feel her heart drumming against his chest. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, immersed in his warmth.

Motherfucking butterflies.

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Masterlist

#cassian andor #cassian andor x original female character #cassian andor x ofc #rogue one #starlight

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