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Note: Not too many changes here, just some minor corrections and adding details from Shadow of Doubt.
* * *
“Do you want that anti-nausea patch now?” Rolas asked a few minutes later, as Melanie pushed herself up off the catamaran’s railing, wiping her muzzle clean with a wet washcloth.
“I’ll be fine,” she grumbled. Nevertheless she took the sealed packet from him, reading the warnings on the back carefully, before ripping it open and pressing it to the inside of her left ear. It was the most convenient spot if she didn’t want to shave a patch of fur off her pelt.
“As much time as you’ve spent in zero-g, I’m surprised that the ocean is bothering you so much,” Rolas said, helping her over to a padded bench at the fore of the catamaran.
“You don’t sway in zero-g,” Melanie replied. She looked out over the water, as the drugs settled her stomach. The catamaran was slicing west through the small chop at what Rolas assured her was a relatively quick ten kilometers an hour. The sun had set a half hour before, dropping below the horizon with a suddenness that had startled her. It had reminded her painfully of orbital sunsets she’d viewed from the bridge of the old Scarlet Claw.
“That’s a point,” he agreed. “I didn’t enjoy learning to spacewalk when I was doing my Service tour. The suits we had to wear always felt terribly claustrophobic, even with the 360 cam projections inside the helmets.”
“I never learned to handle zero-g. I spent my Service years with a forest mothering team,” Melanie said. “We got a lot of exercise picking up deadfalls during the spring, to lessen the chances of a forest fire.” She glanced sidelong at him. Rolas was sitting beside her, but keeping a slight distance from her side of the bench, his stance not encouraging a private cuddle at the moment. Now probably wasn’t the best time to ask the questions in her mind, but his mention of his Service years was the only opening she’d had since they had left dock. “Speaking of the Service, how did you ever meet that remarkable fellow, Cannonloader?”
“I don’t wish to discuss that,” Rolas said, his tone brooking little argument.
( Among other things )
* * *
“Do you want that anti-nausea patch now?” Rolas asked a few minutes later, as Melanie pushed herself up off the catamaran’s railing, wiping her muzzle clean with a wet washcloth.
“I’ll be fine,” she grumbled. Nevertheless she took the sealed packet from him, reading the warnings on the back carefully, before ripping it open and pressing it to the inside of her left ear. It was the most convenient spot if she didn’t want to shave a patch of fur off her pelt.
“As much time as you’ve spent in zero-g, I’m surprised that the ocean is bothering you so much,” Rolas said, helping her over to a padded bench at the fore of the catamaran.
“You don’t sway in zero-g,” Melanie replied. She looked out over the water, as the drugs settled her stomach. The catamaran was slicing west through the small chop at what Rolas assured her was a relatively quick ten kilometers an hour. The sun had set a half hour before, dropping below the horizon with a suddenness that had startled her. It had reminded her painfully of orbital sunsets she’d viewed from the bridge of the old Scarlet Claw.
“That’s a point,” he agreed. “I didn’t enjoy learning to spacewalk when I was doing my Service tour. The suits we had to wear always felt terribly claustrophobic, even with the 360 cam projections inside the helmets.”
“I never learned to handle zero-g. I spent my Service years with a forest mothering team,” Melanie said. “We got a lot of exercise picking up deadfalls during the spring, to lessen the chances of a forest fire.” She glanced sidelong at him. Rolas was sitting beside her, but keeping a slight distance from her side of the bench, his stance not encouraging a private cuddle at the moment. Now probably wasn’t the best time to ask the questions in her mind, but his mention of his Service years was the only opening she’d had since they had left dock. “Speaking of the Service, how did you ever meet that remarkable fellow, Cannonloader?”
“I don’t wish to discuss that,” Rolas said, his tone brooking little argument.
( Among other things )
