Aur Child

Digambar Dharmavaram, ship engineer aboard the Odyssey, waved her hand over the evacuation sensor and lifted her trousers. She wobbled back to her bunk, wincing from the aches in her joints. For several days, she had felt her body transition out of the horrific throes of seasickness and into something far worse. Something excruciating. Captain Talle had reassured her that the seas were calm. Outside her cabin portal, when she was aware of her surroundings, she caught glimpses of a horizon separating shades of sea and sky. Watching that narrow line didn’t help.

“You’ll get past it.” Arman Ispiryan, the ship’s medic, had said. “Just give it some more time.”

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 regular 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.

“Be prepared for seasickness,” Captain Talle had told her. “If the weather is bad, it will be worse than the sickness from exoporting,”

That was two days of agonizing misery. Now this. This was worse.

She had retreated to her cabin, where she confirmed the monitoring sensors were all switched off to prevent Calliope snooping on her. Then, she cried unrestrainedly through the body she was wearing. At least that worked. She had learned to have it on, but in the past few days, it became increasingly uncomfortable. At night, when the pulsing in her head came on particularly strong and her clothes were charged with sweat, she begged into the darkness to be returned to the boule cluster at Yellow Reserve.

When he came to check in on her, as he did multiple times, day and night, she told Arman between sobs how she felt about her body.

“It’s not me. It doesn’t fit.” She was looking down grimacing with disgust. “It’s too big. Twice my size, even.”

“I understand, Diga,” he said, in a comforting voice. He sat close and scanned over her.

“All that training and conditioning, but I still feel like an oaf.”

“It’s a temporary affliction. You were rapidly building your agility up until we set off;” he said.

She wasn’t listening. She continued to speak, “I’m like a poorly-trained puppeteer fumbling with the strings of a monstrous woman-doll who resists every instinctual movement.”

Arman chuckled softly. “At least you still have your sense of humor,” he said.

Resistance. That was the right word for it. If she didn’t focus completely on her mechanics, she would misplace her center of gravity and find herself leaning in one direction when she intended to go in another.

Arman caressed her clammy forehead. But even this felt like a burning sensation above her eyes. She winced. He pulled back, his face reflecting the words he had repeated to her several times already, “I regret I can’t bring you more comfort.”

All the sensations were oversized. Hunger, exhaustion, pain, body temperature, a full bladder, and an empty stomach. As an endosoul, everything could be dialed in to preference. Here, everything was overbearing and unruly, without controls.

“Isn’t there something I could take? You know, like those medications they used to have?” she asked Arman.

“They’re easily synthesized in the medical bay,” he said, “but that will only extend the adjustment period. I know you’re suffering, but you will overcome this in a few days.”

He observed her in silence, and then he added as he rose to leave, “Let’s just try to keep that pain under control.”

Captain Adem Talle had also visited Digambar in her cabin to explain, in his know-it-all style, that an extended reaction wasn’t unusual.

“I guess you just jumped into your work too quickly.”

Slightly less convincing than the doctor, she thought, but he meant well.

“You just rest and let Calliope deal with the ship.”

She nodded but turned to hide the tears that were welling up in her eyes. That was the worst part. There were only four of them. Sure, Calliope could handle all the monitoring responsibilities, but there were simply many other functions that required real hands. Pumps required priming, blocks needed lubrication, lines should be inspected. She knew her crewmates were taking on those functions. Not just taking them on, she thought as her sobbing increased, learning them, and then executing without me.

“We’ve got everything under control. Take all the time you need to adjust. Stay here in your quarters as long as you need to.”

She had already been there for such a long time that she began to lose track of the days. She knew that sometimes Linus visited and played his lyre in an imperceptible volume in order to soothe her mind with its lulling tones. Bai Ye Cai also visited her often. In fact, she spent almost all her free time sitting on the little stool that rotated out from beneath the night table in Digambar’s cabin. She studied her notes with crossed legs and practiced nautical knots on the bed rail, looking up occasionally to shed pity over her new friend. Sometimes, Digambar heard Bai Ye sing softly to her in a foreign language. The words clashed but the melody was sweet. But mostly, Digambar wasn’t aware of anything happening in her cabin, or anywhere else on the ship for that matter. She spun in her head and in her bed. Each evening, Bai Ye would wipe her body down with a warm towel. A few times, she had tried brushing Digambar’s hair, but Digambar would suck through her teeth and protest, “It hurts my roots.”

“Being awake is the worst,” she told Bai Ye, as they sat alone together one evening before Bai Ye began her night watch.

“I hate being incapacitated, but I simply can’t move.”

“I’m more concerned with your eating, Diga,” Bai Ye said, revealing the real reason she had dropped in. “If you refuse the broth, Arman has threatened to hook you up in the medical bay.”

“But you don’t understand,” Digambar said, “Just one swallow sets my insides on fire. Besides, it comes right back out anyway.”

“Don’t be daft,” Bai Ye argued, “You know some of it gets absorbed.”

Digambar knew that Calliope, too, had been to see her, although she only seemed to be present when Arman was there. Digambar heard Arman speaking with Calliope once when the doctor presumably thought Digambar was asleep. They seemed to disagree about the cause of her suffering.

“It must be terribly uncomfortable for her,” Arman admitted, “but I don’t think it’s dangerous. The human body could be fickle but ultimately it seeks equilibrium. Give her time.” he lowered the scriptleaf that showed Digambar’s charts. “She just needs time and rest.”

“Arman,” Calliope said, “I hate to challenge you, as you are the expert, but I beg to differ. The uniqueness of the symptoms, their severity, and the duration all point to something more serious than just a particularly difficult acclimation.”

“Well, what do you propose it is?”

“If you recall, there were irregularities in the exporting. Apollo’s reports on Guest Dharmavaram’s transfer were inconclusive. He was to run more tests and audit the results, but we ran out of time. I suspect it may be somehow related to that.”

“But we should be past that. She did fine in the first weeks. Not a smidge of symptoms any worse than the others. How do you explain that?”

“It’s a fair point,” Calliope said, “But perhaps the seasickness triggered the relapse.”

“You’re a smart machine, Calliope, I’ll give you that. I won’t argue this further, but I can’t be sure. If it were true, it would be unprecedented. And really, we have done plenty of exoports since we arrived at Yellow Reserve. You think we’d have bumped into something like this before.”

“Yes, plenty,” Calliope said, “But not so many with such a quick turnaround of a Tellurian body and in combination with a maritime passage.”

“I always expected a fresher body to perform better.”

“Clearly, it hasn’t in this case.”

Arman hummed to himself, “Clearly. Alright, I see your point. I don’t quite agree with it, but I am willing to dig deeper if we can.”

Calliope continued to monitor Digambar while Arman took tests twice daily. Together, they worked on a possible cause while trying to keep her comfortable. But then, after Bai Ye had mentioned that they were past the Red Kingdom and approaching Gjoa, Digambar suddenly seemed to rally from her incapacitated state. After only two days, Digambar looked healthier and complained much less about her headaches and flashes. Captain Talle came to visit her more often, sitting by her bed on the stool with a pillow wedged beneath him and speaking softly with her.

“You’re looking worlds better. You might even be on your feet in time for celestial navigation training,” he told her.

Digambar offered a weak smile. “I’m excited to be approaching Gjoa. But how are the stars?”

“Real!”

She laughed.

“Really, they’re magnificent,” he continued. “You’ll love them. And it’s so warm already you can sit out at night with just a light blanket over you.”

“Oh, I do want to get up.”

“Not just yet, Diga. Give yourself a bit more time. The relapse was pretty rough, but good thing the body you’re in is a strong one. One of those wispy types might have been the end of you!”

“Oh, come on,” she protested, “You think it’s just this body that pushed through whatever that was?”

Adem laughed with her, although she winced at the jarring movement.

“Nah, of course I don’t,” he said. “Look, I don’t envy what you’ve been through. I’ve seen several bad cases of exoporting, but that was without question the worst yet.” He reached out and gently touched her bare shoulder. “Fortunately,” he said, “you’ve got a good first mate, a great doctor, and an even better captain.” He winked at her.

“Okay,” she said, mocking his gesture. “I think I’ve had enough of your machismo for one day, Captain.”

He stood up with a chuckle and turned towards the door.

“Listen,” he said. “Try to eat a full bowl of broth tonight, would you? If you’re back on your feet in the morning, we’ll do some sunbathing together. Just you and me and a couple of cool drinks on the forward deck. We’ll leave the rest of these scalawags to keep the Odyssey ship shape.”

She smiled but shook her head. “If you think I’m gonna be some kind of invalid substitute for your adventure boyfriend Baddin, think again.” She knew this would correct his cheekiness. Everyone at Yellow Reserve was aware that Thyme Baddin was Adem Talle’s best mate and go-to adventure sidekick.

Adem turned around with a surprised look, “You’re too nerdy to be a substitute for Thyme. Although,” he continued, trying to measure up the shape of the woman covered in blankets on the bunk, “you’d definitely be better looking than Thyme in a swimsuit.”

“Dream on, Captain.”

He laughed and closed the door to her cabin gently behind him.