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Chapter 1 - Awakening

Dreaming, Syne struggled, the plain grey-furred coyote thrashing his limbs in their restraints. Somehow, the young Captain had been secured to a flat metal table, spread-eagle, on his back. He squirmed and yipped helplessly, afraid, unable to even curl his tail as it was secured too. Whining instinctively, he looked around in the darkness of his dream, until something brilliant and red caught his eyes, glowing weakly at first, but becoming brighter and brighter until it consumed all he could see...

And then Syne awoke, thrashing in his heavier than usual covers. His heavier, damper than usual covers. Panting gave way to blushing as he slowly realized what had happened: He'd wet the bed. Shame was over-ridden by nervous questions: Had the catheter during his cold-sleep somehow malfunctioned? Was he diseased? Was something wrong? He was only twenty seven, hardly old enough to start needing touch-up work for failing flesh, right?

Syne made a note to see the ship's doctor and set about cleaning up. He threw the covers down the laundry hatch, feeling his cheeks flush as he wondered if anybody would notice the scent in the laundry room before the bots got around to washing it, and stepped into the shower, growling happily as the warm water cleaned his fur. He shut his eyes and sighed, feeling more and more human (or coyote, really), as he soaked. He smiled as he shook his snout into the water, looking forward to first breakfast with his friends and family.

His twin, Cosyne, and his little sister Tanjent, were his family by blood, even if none of them really had much left of their original genetics. Every first breakfast was the same: How lovely the food was, how much waking from cold-sleep and the couple strange dreams that followed it always sucked, but somehow they all loved it.

Something about waking from stasis really made you feel alive. The human twins-turned coyotes and their younger human-turned feline sister agreed on this, as did their friends and shipmates who flew with them, various brothers and sisters in arms they'd met on their way to where they had found themselves today: A independent mining crew with their own ship, free to fly where they would with a ship that saw to their every need, making cash nothing more than a means to luxury. That freedom had been hard-won, and they enjoyed every moment of it.

Well, every waking moment of it anyways.

In similar showers in their own quarters, the rest of the crew was doing more or less the same thing Syne was, just without the lingering anxiety of having wet their beds for the first time in decades. Cosyne was woofing happily as his light blue fur soaked up water, the warmth feeling lovely against the shaved stripe that cut through his headfur, an inverse mohawk with pink skin beneath. Tanjent was soaking her purple and neon-green dyed fur as well, shaking her rump and waving her tail and yowling off-key into the torrents of water pouring from the shower head. The genre, lyrics, and beat were pretty much indistinguishable, but a uncontrolled exuberant racket sort of suited the ships designated electrician and computer specialist/inventor.

In the quarters next to Tanjent, Frost was soaking in a bath. He had started his life as a fox, but found it hard to face the world as effeminate as he was, so had a partial-conversion to wolf done. What he was now wasn't immediately identifiable as either in particular, but vaguely resembled each, red and soft, dark brown fur mingling. The youngest of the crew, only twenty, was a little antsy, but good-natured, a good friend of Tanjent's, and the ship's Vehicle Master. The title was self-declared at first, and taken less than seriously, but with Tanjent sticking up for him, he got his shot to prove himself, and prove himself he did, on various drones and excursion crafts while working, and on his personal joy-rides when not. The fox-wolf was basking in the warmth, waiting for the jitters and sickness of awakening to pass while wondering what that very quiet sound similar to meowing and nails on a chalkboard was coming through the pipes.

Tumbler, a raccoon, was the ship's cook. At least, thats the function her served now. He waved his hands about, making kung-fu movie noises as he fantasized about some of the things he did before he was a cook, when stealth, subtlety, theft and other ninja-like things had been needed. He didn't miss the stress, but an addiction to adrenalin dies hard, especially upon waking from dreams of older days. Tumbler didn't actually know much about kung-fu, if anything, and probably hadn't thrown many punches during his life, at least not while facing his opponent anyways, but he really had a thing for the ninja image, even sliced and diced salads and other foods with a katana Tanjent had made for him. His birthday and age were a subject of much speculation, as he refused to disclose either of them, liking the few pieces of mystery he could hold on to. In truth, he had not yet been Rejuvenated once and was, like most of the crew, on his first life-cycle, but he smiled whenever his keen ears overheard somebody speculating that maybe, just maybe, he had been around for centuries of waking life. When he was exhausted from fake kung-fu, he settled onto his knees and sighed blissfuly, experiencing a somewhat more rapid natural recovery from cold-sleep than his crewmates, making a sort of raccoon-purr as his mind strayed to the hidden closet in his quarters, the one he kept his fine geisha kimonos and other girlish items of clothing in, feeling his coon-cock emerge from his sheath as he pondered which he would wear and lounge in after breakfast, wishing he had time to 'enjoy' his private interests before hand.

While the crew speculated that Tumbles might be a multiple-lifetimer, it was common knowledge that Doc was one. She was about 157 years old, and was pretty damn sure that Tumbles was nowhere near her age. But would never dream of ruining his fun. It was the personalities and character of her shipmates that had brought her here in the first place, and had kept her here when her talents would allow her to be anywhere in the galaxy, or possibly beyond, that she chose. What Doc had been born as, nobody knew, and nobody asked, but they knew her real name, or at least chosen name, was Quicktail. What she was these days was a stunning beauty of a white cat, the only way to tell her age was to be with her and speak with her; the worksmanship of her body, designed by her, was as good as it came. And she was fond of using it.

Somewhere along the line, with all the tinkering with flesh she had done, she had lost all inhibition. While Tanjent needed to be, and often was, courted the old fashioned way, getting some playtime with Doc usually took very little more than asking. Or looking like you were considering asking. In fact, belaboring the asking part too much was one of the few ways to lose her interest. While in the public quarters, Tumbles kept his food and kitchen supplies, and in private, he kept his miniskirts, thigh-highs and heels; Doc kept her own tradetools in sickbay, and her toys in her closet. At her age and proficiency, she felt very little need to justify her behavior, even to herself. The one time she stopped to think about it, she ended up shrugging and figuring that when one comes to view sex as a hobby, getting all the tools and devices and optional pieces for it is the natural thing to do. There were a lot of things she had never tried, and still quite a few things that offended her sensibilities personally, though she'd never begrudge another their own wants as long as they hurt nobody else in the process. But these thoughts of ethics and judgment had no place in the ancient feline's mind as she stroked herself blissfully to orgasm after orgasm, purring and smiling under the warm water as she hid from the waking-sickness beneath a carpet of endorphins.

In the final crew quarter, located in a side-space between the three major bays, was Bell. Bell was a badger femme, though without her figure, you'd be hard pressed to tell. This was a creature who had rejected her gender, but, for whatever reason, never just gone flat-out and had herself turned into a male. Nobody much understood this part of her, but she was rational enough to not let it affect how she interacted with the rest of her friends. With her family. And the crew was sympathetic in turn, in every way they could think of to be sympathetic. This caused occasional friction, but in the end with this bunch, friendship always won at the end of the day. And that, that comraderie, is why Syne's crew had arguably one of the best miners and core mechanics as well as one of the best doctors there was to have. Bell had no secret loves, no secret interests, just a burning desire to be seen as a male despite her flesh, and over time, the crew had adjusted to this and did their best to honor this. Which wasn't hard to do, watching the buff badgeress handle an impact-drill on captured asteroids. While the rest of the crew bathed and dreamed, she pumped iron. It only ever made her feel sicker, at least for the first 8 hours after waking from the first inevitable nap you end up taking after being awakened from cold-sleep, but in her mind, weakness was to embraced head-on in every case. To do less was to give in. For all his fantasies of Ninjahood, even Tumbler knew that Bell was their fist every time they needed one, and suspected that she used those fists of her to take core-samples from asteroids when nobody was looking, or at least tried to.

Eventually, all felt good enough to leave the showers. Tumbler first, still dreaming of soft silk and guilty fantasies, cooking breakfast. Followed by the others, one by one, in various states of dress, Tanjent in nothing but a towel, yowling her music until somebody finally told her to shut up. Good cheer and good food followed at their massive table, full of toasts, comments about how good Tumble's cooking was, how awful waking from cold-sleep was, and then speculating on what they might find in this cluster of rocks.

Doc shot a knowing glance at Tumbles as he served her food, sniffing the air and grinning mischievously as her paw ever-so-lightly brushed over his white boxers, teasing the half-hard length beneath it. With a wink, she invited him to drop by for a check-up later if the cold-sleep lag lasts too long. Amidst snickers, Syne mentions he may need an actual check-up, remembering his wet sheets, setting off another chain of innuendo and teasing, perpetrated mostly by his twin brother and younger sister. Frost and Tanjent get into an animated conversation about their plans for the scout-shuttles and excursion crafts this run, and, last of all, Bell arrives; her hulking, muscular form shaking the deck as she announces her presence with a good-hearted snarl, the golden ring through her black nose flailing as she bared her teeth and cracked her neck, stomping to her seat and sitting down with a meaty >Thump< of her fist on the table. "Where's my food, Ninja-Bitch!", she calls out to Tumbles' raised rump and fluffy tail as he ferrets her helping out from his oven. Laughter all around as the chef pulls out a bowl, one that looks like a bucket, of biscuits and gravy, easily three times the amount of food of anybody else, and meets the thump of the badger's fist with an equally impressive thump of his own when he drops the bucket on the table, rattling everybody else's kitchen-ware. "Right here, and there's more if ya can handle it big guy!", he churred in reply, messing up her short hair with his paw affectionately before giving her a hug from behind and licking her nose, scampering back to his kitchen before she can grab him and give him a good shaking. Bell just shook her fist towards the kitchen and laughed, smiling, starting to dig in.

Amidst cheerful conversation, Tanjent pokes at the keypads on her bracers, and in the lowest layer of the mining ship, 8 androids awaken and set about the menial and automatable tasks of prepping the launch bays and cargo bays. In the bridge, unoccupied, displays awaken as surely as the occupants of the ship, sensor batteries and arrays mounted on the hull awaken, as do antennas and other pieces of equipment, metal plates shifting on the hull, as the ship slowly wakes and readies for mining; several systems catching and throwing errors, broken somewhere along the trip to this remote location. The engine room awakens last, displaying information for Bell when breakfast is done, one by one, the ship's spaces light up and become alive.

As breakfast finishes up, and Frost heads to the Launch bay, Bell to the Engine room, Syne and Cosyne to the bridge, Doc to sickbay and Tanjent starts scampering from broken piece of equipment to broken piece of equipment in a blur of purple and green, her 8 androids in tow, out in the rock field, a dull speck of red starts to brighten as the ship washes Syne's wet blankets.