{"sf1_id":1404394,"sf2_id":"Xnrx9Xre","title":"Silver Lining (Chapter 9)","author":"DecoFox","words":3782,"posted_at":"2019-01-06T21:52:00.000Z","tags":["Action","Adventure","Airplane","Alternate Reality","Alternate Society","Art deco","Border Collie","Canine","Character Development","Couple","Decopunk","Drama","F/M","Fear","Female","Fight","Fighting","Flight","Flying","Gun","Guns","Interspecies","Interwar","Love","Military","Mystery","Novel","Retro future","Sci-Fi","Science Fiction","Series","Sky","Steam Punk","Story Progression","Story Series","Straight","Swing","Vintage","Violence (Not In Yiff)","War","Weapon","Western","Western Swing","airship","combat","dieselpunk","tomboy"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1404394-silver-lining-chapter-9","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/Xnrx9Xre","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/60/08/6008c452-8e66-42e2-a3fd-a888416991fd","description":"#9 of Silver Lining\n\n9 of Silver Lining\n\nGreentext\nSecond Person Present\nNovel-Length, by chapter.\nWIP\nYou, a newly minted combat pilot with all the associated buckle and swash, find yourself signed up to escort an airship carrying mysterious cargo to places unknown. It feels good to be the real deal finally, just like in the books and moving pictures, even if they did assign you a border collie for a partner. And besides, the two of you aren't in over your heads or anything, right?","content":"1. Chapter IX, First Time for Everything\n2. \u0026nbsp;\n3. \\\u003e \"So are you two making out or something? Because I could come back if this isn't a good time.\"\n4. \\\u003eYou haven't known him long, but you'd know Tucker's voice anywhere.\n5. \\\u003eHe was at least your age, and maybe older, but somehow it seemed like he'd hidden away in a tree house and adulthood had passed him right on by.\n6. \\\u003eThere was an energy in his words you hadn't heard since those long summers down by the river, fishing, swimming, and sneaking beer and cigarettes; and a cadence in them that rang as loyal as it did naive.\n7. \\\u003eYou're sure as hell glad to hear it, even if the comment sends a worm of embarrassment sneaking past the dying fear to tickle the base of your spine.\n8. \\\u003e \"Hey, Tucker.\"\n9. \u0026nbsp;\n10. \\\u003eThe canvas top peels back and Tucker flops over the window frame, bright, blue eyes wide with excitement.\n11. \\\u003e \"That was really somethin'! I broke off to escort you in, Anon. I saw everything! Two kills! One for each of 'ya, huh? How's it feel?\"\n12. \\\u003eYour nerves might be worn bare, but that wild grin of his is infectious. Bit by bit the dead fear falls away like drying mud, and suddenly you're smiling too.\n13. \\\u003eYou really had done it, hadn't you?\n14. \\\u003eYou'd been through a fight, and you'd won! You'd won against the odds!\n15. \\\u003eHe reaches his hand to you, and you shake it as heartily as you can manage.\n16. \\\u003e \"Guess it feels pretty good.\"\n17. \\\u003e \"Hell yeah, it does. You really showed those pirates what-for! Now come on, guys, drinks on me!\"\n18. \\\u003eHe seizes on the handshake to haul you up, but you stop him before he can.\n19. \u0026nbsp;\n20. \\\u003e \"Hold up, Tucker.\"\n21. \\\u003e \"What?\"\n22. \\\u003e \"I'm shot.\"\n23. \\\u003e \"No shit. You look pretty good for being shot. Where 'ya hit?\"\n24. \\\u003e \"Shoulder.\"\n25. \\\u003e \"So you ain't about to die on me, then? Sweet. Well I'll grab a ladder for 'ya and help you outta' there. What about you, Whitney? You okay?\"\n26. \\\u003eShe doesn't say anything, but she squeezes your wrist and nods an affirmative.\n27. \\\u003e \"Well don't you lovebirds get too crazy now. Back in a jiffy.\"\n28. \\\u003eTucker flashes another grin and ducks out.\n29. \u0026nbsp;\n30. \\\u003eSilence settles again, but not so oppressively now that you're holding her. Your shoulder throbs and the wing drips, but drop-by-drop the dread leaks from your lungs until you cough, wheeze, and finally breathe again.\n31. \\\u003eWhitney's still got your wrist. You can feel her shaking, and so are you, but the putrid dread is gone.\n32. \\\u003eYou squeeze a little tighter, and dig your fingers into her jacket as if it were her fur.\n33. \\\u003e \"Sure you're okay, Kid?\"\n34. \\\u003e She nods hastily.\n35. \\\u003e \"Don't mind me, Cap'n. I ain't hurt. Just got a little worked up, is all.\"\n36. \\\u003e \"That was some quick thinking and good shooting back there. Be dead in a heap of metal right now if it weren't for you.\"\n37. \\\u003eShe smiles.\n38. \\\u003e \"Reckon that's so. Fucking better have been, too, given I'm shaking like a little puppy. Make for a hell of a coward if I didn't have anything to show for it.\"\n39. \\\u003e \"You clearly ain't a coward, Kid. I saw what happened out there; wouldn't have blamed you if you panicked, but you didn't.\"\n40. \\\u003e \"Yeah, yeah. Just rather not be seen like this, ya'know? Got this image in my head where I step out there all proud and regal and regale everyone with stories of our heroism. I know that probably ain't how it usually goes, but I'd like to do better than complete nervous wreck.\"\n41. \\\u003eYou return her grin and pat her shoulder.\n42. \u0026nbsp;\n43. \\\u003e \"Me too, but I guess we'll do it together.\"\n44. \\\u003e \"You won't tell anyone I screamed, right?\"\n45. \\\u003e \"Don't look at me, Kid. I heard a battle cry.\"\n46. \\\u003eShe shuffles a little closer and sets her head on your shoulder, then she smiles, perhaps a little wryly.\n47. \\\u003e \"Thanks, Cap'n. And you were cool and composed throughout the whole thing. Didn't so much as whimper when they hit 'ya. 'Course you'll have to put on a good show for the medic if you 'wanna sell that one. Won't be able to hold your hand or nothin'.\"\n48. \\\u003e \"Shut it, Whitney.\"\n49. \\\u003eShe laughs, her face brightening.\n50. \\\u003e \"You don't sound so bad. How's it feel?\"\n51. \\\u003e \"Worse by the minute.\"\n52. \\\u003eThe laughter drains form her voice as quickly as it came. When she speaks again, it's the softest you've heard her.\n53. \\\u003e \"Shit, Cap'n. Bleedin' bad?\"\n54. \\\u003e \"Sure is a lot of it. Ain't dead yet, though.\"\n55. \\\u003eShe presses a little further into the crook of your neck.\n56. \\\u003e \"Well, I ain't a doctor, but I'm here no matter what. You got that?\"\n57. \\\u003eShe wrenches her arm free and takes your hand in her paw.\n58. \\\u003eMaybe it's her touch, or the way she says it, but for the first time since you took off this morning, you actually feel secure.\n59. \\\u003e \"Thanks, Kid.\"\n60. \u0026nbsp;\n61. \\\u003e \"Okay, okay. Break it up, you two.\"\n62. \\\u003eWhitney yelps and shoots Tucker a look, but her grip on you doesn't waiver. He just shrugs.\n63. \\\u003e \"Doc's on his way. Can 'ya stand, Anon?\"\n64. \\\u003eYou're pretty sure, but you shuffle your feet to make certain.\n65. \\\u003e \"Stand, yeah. Climb, probably not. But between you and Whitney....\"\n66. \\\u003eHe nods, grin softening.\n67. \\\u003e \"Alright. You ready?\"\n68. \\\u003eHe reaches you a hand again; this time you take it.\n69. \\\u003e \"Let's get it over with.\"\n70. \\\u003eWhitney pats your shoulder.\n71. \\\u003e \"Right behind 'ya, Cap'n.\"\n72. \u0026nbsp;\n73. \\\u003eHe pulls. Your shoulder screams. You probably do too.\n74. \\\u003eBut then you're over the edge.\n75. \\\u003eThen on the ladder.\n76. \\\u003eThen the ground.\n77. \\\u003eThe blood drains from your head, and your balance goes with it. Your nerves dull and your muscles twitch, but, true to her word, Whitney's back under your arm and supporting you before you get the chance to stumble.\n78. \\\u003e \"I gotcha' Cap'n.\"\n79. \\\u003eYou're glad she does.\n80. \u0026nbsp;\n81. \\\u003e \"So what's it like, being shot?\"\n82. \\\u003eYou come to your senses lying supine on a stack of ammunition boxes, your head on Whitney's lap and Tucker standing over you. He's slouched a little, and favoring a shoulder as if he were leaning on something. His right hand is hooked in his pocket by the thumb, fingers tapping uneasily at the denim of his trousers.\n83. \\\u003e \"Well how 'bout it, Anon?\"\n84. \\\u003eWhitney shoots him a bit of a glare. He seems to notice, but the truth is you feel a little better hearing him make light of it. You shuffle through a plethora of incidents buried in your memory and build the best comparison you can.\n85. \\\u003e \"Like getting hit with a sledgehammer that's also a branding iron. Can't say I recommend it.\"\n86. \\\u003eHe winces visibly, shifting his weight to the other foot, and then the other shoulder.\n87. \\\u003e \"Newest guy on the ship, and you got the best story already, huh?\"\n88. \\\u003e \"Reckon we do, Tucker. Look forward to tellin' it.\"\n89. \\\u003eHe nods.\n90. \\\u003e \"Well, I'll see you then, Anon. In the meantime, it's back to work. Doc'll be about here; don't let 'em keep 'ya too long.\n91. \\\u003eHe pulls his flying cap back down over his dirty brown hair and trots off, pausing a few paces out to throw you a sloppy sort of salute.\n92. \\\u003e \"And careful with the pain meds; we're still getting drunk tonight!\"\n93. \\\u003eThen he's gone, eager footsteps echoing through the hangar until an engine roars to life and drowns them out.\n94. \u0026nbsp;\n95. \\\u003e \"So, what'll it be, Cap'n?\"\n96. \\\u003eYou sigh, a bit of embarrassment rising to meet the pain.\n97. \\\u003e \"I'm fine, Kid. You can let go.\"\n98. \\\u003eShe drops your hand.\n99. \\\u003eYou hate to admit it, but it feels awfully empty without her.\n100. \\\u003eBut you're the real deal, ain't you?\n101. \\\u003eSo you crack your knuckles, grit your teeth, and haul yourself back up, hiding the howling pain behind a false grin and clenched fist.\n102. \\\u003eShe sidles respectfully to the far side of the crates and wraps her tail around behind her. Then she draws her flask and drains the remainder in a long, drawn-out gulp.\n103. \\\u003e \"Hell of a day. Tough to imagine getting used to this, you know?\"\n104. \\\u003eHer whiskers twitch as the liquor hits her, then they sag like cattails.\n105. \\\u003eYou shake your head.\n106. \\\u003e\"Can't be like this all the time.\"\n107. \\\u003e \"Between you 'n me, Cap'n, I fucking hope not.\"\n108. \\\u003eShe starts to say something more, but the snap of a door latch interrupts her.\n109. \\\u003e \"So which one of you is shot?\"\n110. \\\u003eThe ship's doctor bares a few teeth in a grin he must have rehearsed in a mirror, the antiseptic sheen of his canines startling against the charcoal of his coat.\n111. \u0026nbsp;\n112. \\\u003eHe's a wolf, you think, but a scrawny one. He moves with a gait caught somewhere between confidence, anxiety, and a primal sort of fascination; his unkempt fur sifting over the collar of his sharp, white coat, and tail dragging along behind him like a horsehair cable. A pair of silver spectacles perches on his muzzle and makes beady, insectoid images of the amber eyes behind them. There's a false sort of order to it all that rubs you the wrong sort of way. It might have been enough to scare you a little, only you were sure you could have decked him as easy as the wind blows.\n113. \u0026nbsp;\n114. \\\u003e \"The human?\"\n115. \\\u003eHis eyes light up and the edges of his muzzle curl, and as they do you can't help a few crystals of ice forming in your blood.\n116. \\\u003e \"My lucky day,\" he chirps, gesturing to the blood stain starting to soak into your jacket around the shoulder, \"You'll, uh, have to pardon my excitement; I'm sure it sucks. It's just that I never got a good look a human before.\"\n117. \\\u003eSuddenly you aren't quite as used to the idea of being shot as you were a minute ago. Your heart crawls back into your throat, only to tear itself halfway between fear and sympathy.\n118. \\\u003e \"It's no big deal, just hurry, okay?\"\n119. \\\u003eWhitney casts you a knowing look, but stays mercifully silent.\n120. \\\u003e\"Right. How would you rate the pain?\"\n121. \\\u003eThe doctor pauses and pops the latches in his briefcase, then looks back up at you from behind the lid.\n122. \\\u003e \"Research,\" he explains, suddenly timid, \"so be honest.\"\n123. \\\u003eYou shake your head, a little frustration joining the anxiety.\n124. \\\u003e \"I 'dunno, man. A lot? I'd really rather cut to the chase, if it's all the same to you.\"\n125. \\\u003e \"Sorry, sorry. It's just, well, I've been writing a dissertation, and--.\"\n126. \\\u003eWhitney casts him the same glare she did you before leveling her gun the door lock. His muzzle shuts faster than a mouse trap.\n127. \\\u003eHis eyes are a bit more apologetic when they meet yours again. This time he produces a pair of bulky sheers, and then finally bends over you.\n128. \\\u003e \"Jacket's ruined anyway.\"\n129. \\\u003eHe sets to cutting, humming a tune you don't quite recognize as he works.\n130. \u0026nbsp;\n131. \\\u003eIt's nothing at first, but the longer you sit there the more the pain starts to get to you.\n132. \\\u003eAnd maybe you are a little dizzy, now that you think about it.\n133. \\\u003eBut you're psyching yourself out.\n134. \\\u003eYou know you are, but the longer he cuts the more your senses seem to swirl.\n135. \\\u003eThe pain's pretty bad now. It breaks over you in waves, each set pressing a little harder than its predecessor.\n136. \\\u003eBut that's a good thing, right?\n137. \\\u003eYou're pretty sure.\n138. \\\u003eBut then he's done cutting, and you yelp as the jacket falls away.\n139. \\\u003eHe leans in then, squinting as he gets close. His breath is hot and sticky on the wound. It makes you almost sick to feel it, and sicker as you catch sight of the blood pooling and drying there in the reflection of his glasses.\n140. \\\u003eIt was hard to imagine, having your insides laid bare to the world like that. Despite the pain, you could scarcely believe they were. That had been good enough before, but you hadn't had a good look at it before. Now you had. If whitney were still holding your hand, you'd probably have crawled into it and hid, but for now you look away and count the seconds.\n141. \u0026nbsp;\n142. \\\u003e \"Aw, that's nothing. Tagged the bone, but nothing scary. 'Gonna have to poke around a little to see how bad the fragmentation is, though.\"\n143. \\\u003eThat doesn't sound like a lick of fun to you, but you're already drunk on relief.\n144. \\\u003e \"Just, uh, be careful, okay?\"\n145. \\\u003eYou drop your head back on the ammo boxes. This time it lands on a folded towel. The doctor comes back with a prod and forceps, looking a little more at ease with the tools seized in his paws.\n146. \\\u003e \"Uh, maybe squeeze or bite on something; I 'dunno.\"\n147. \\\u003eHe shrugs, and you look away. It's not five seconds before you feel him dig in.\n148. \u0026nbsp;\n149. \\\u003eIt's about the strangest thing you ever felt, someone picking at you like that. It's like peeling a scab again and again, each little tag running a little deeper than the last until he's forging into you with all the rhythms, twists, and jerks of a bird picking at carrion. You can feel the metal deep inside you, probing somewhere nerves were never meant to feel. But if you don't think, and you don't look, it's almost like it isn't happening. You look to Whitney instead; she replies with a good-natured wave.\n150. \u0026nbsp;\n151. \\\u003e \"Okay, yeah. It's chipped, not broken. Got some bone shards in here we've got to deal with though. And the bullet, too. \u0026nbsp;Looks like a .30 caliber; lucky you. Wanna' keep it?\"\n152. \\\u003eDamn right you want to keep it.\n153. \\\u003e \"You got it out already?\"\n154. \\\u003e \"Nah, not yet. Trust me; you'll know.\"\n155. \\\u003eSomehow the warmth of the laugh in his voice makes it all the more chilling.\n156. \\\u003eHe goes back to digging. You're almost used to it, only the next tug feels like he thrust a broken bottle in you and twisted. Had you been ready, maybe you wouldn't have screamed. But you weren't ready at all. He pats you on the shoulder.\n157. \\\u003e \"Thought we'd start with the bad one.\"\n158. \\\u003eHe's at it again before you can reply.\n159. \u0026nbsp;\n160. \\\u003e \"Say, this bruise here isn't from today, is it?\"\n161. \\\u003eHe prods the bruise from the cargo bay with his off-hand, the dominant one still pecking at you like some sort of corvid.\n162. \\\u003e \"No.\"\n163. \\\u003e \"Looks like armor trauma; like you got shot in a plate or something. That so? You pick that up in the raid the other day?\"\n164. \\\u003eYou weigh your options.\n165. \\\u003e \"Reckon I did, yeah.\"\n166. \\\u003eHe just shrugs.\n167. \\\u003e \"These things seem awful attracted to you for a new guy. Think Ol' Noah might have it out for 'ya.\"\n168. \\\u003eAnother pull. This time it feels like he broke your collar like a goddamn wishbone, but you manage to contort the latter half of the scream into some sort of expletive.\n169. \\\u003eYour eyes open in time to catch him bouncing the mushroomed bullet in his paw before letting it clatter to the tray.\n170. \\\u003e \"Don't worry, I won't ask. Whatever's going on, I guess they want to keep it quiet. Kind of freaks me out, but Cap'n Walker's a good guy. I don't think he'd steer us wrong.\"\n171. \\\u003eYou swallow the pain as he digs back in.\n172. \u0026nbsp;\n173. \\\u003e \"You know 'em?\"\n174. \\\u003eThe doctor nods, eyes flashing a bit warmer.\n175. \\\u003e \"Been shipping with him since I got out of the Army. Paying for school that way. Almost done now, though.\"\n176. \\\u003e \"And you trust 'em, do 'ya?\"\n177. \\\u003eThis time it's Whitney's voice cutting in, which you can't help resenting a little. You'd been appreciating the distraction.\n178. \\\u003eThe doctor nods firmly.\n179. \\\u003e \"This your first trip?\"\n180. \\\u003eShe shrinks a little.\n181. \\\u003e \"Yeah.\"\n182. \\\u003e \"Notice how you sleep full nights and not in four-hour shifts, and eat pretty good while you're at it? Well it's not like that everywhere. Not even on Avalonian ships. Been some strange places under Walker; doesn't seem he's got much a taste for the routine. But he takes care of his own, and I'll be damned if I ever hear another airship captain call me 'sir'. Does usually brief us, though, no matter how crazy. Don't know what he's got planned this time. But whatever it is, he'll have a reason.\"\n183. \\\u003eHe pulls again, but this time the pain actually subsides on the trailing edge of the jolt.\n184. \\\u003e \"Right. Just have to wrap you up, and you'll be on your way. Careful drinking; it's an anticoagulant.\"\n185. \\\u003e \"Huh?\"\n186. \\\u003e \"You'll bleed more. Shouldn't kill 'ya or anything, but you'll notice.\"\n187. \\\u003e \"Right.\"\n188. \\\u003eThe doctor trades his forceps for some sort of chrome device you swear he must have pulled out of a comic book. It looks like it ought to shoot lasers or something, but he cocks the contraption as casually as you might a cap gun.\n189. \u0026nbsp;\\\u003e \"You'll feel a pinch,\" he says, and then he thrusts it into your shoulder.\n190. \\\u003eIt's a hell of a fucking pinch.\n191. \\\u003eAnd so is the next one.\n192. \\\u003eAnd the one after.\n193. \\\u003eBut he presses on with a casual indifference you can't help but admire, and down your wound the little shots of pain march like stubborn ants.\n194. \\\u003eClick-snap.\n195. \\\u003eClick-snap.\n196. \\\u003eClick-snap.\n197. \\\u003eIt's not so bad.\n198. \\\u003eNot once you're into the rhythm.\n199. \\\u003eAnd then it's over as quickly as it started.\n200. \\\u003eHe pats you on the shoulder again, this time with some finality.\n201. \\\u003e \"It's Anon, right? And Whitney?\"\n202. \\\u003eYou nod and lift your good arm. He shakes it.\n203. \\\u003e \"Well 'grats on losing your foreign object virginity.\"\n204. \\\u003e He slaps the bullet into your still-open hand.\n205. \\\u003e \"Enjoy your trophy. Try not to rip the staples.\"\n206. \u0026nbsp;\n207. \\\u003eA peculiar sort of silence settles in the doctor's wake, and, from beneath the dulling pain, you feel your senses begin to sharpen again.\n208. \\\u003eWhitney's quiet now.\n209. \\\u003eShe hunches like a gargoyle at your feet, arms folded to rest on her thighs, and eyes cast down but somehow far away. She's settled a lot since the landing, but even now you catch a faint tremble in her paws and whiskers.\n210. \\\u003eThen the door shuts, and finally she looks up at you.\n211. \\\u003e \"You okay there, Cap'n?\"\n212. \\\u003eShe flashes a shaky smile. You sling your feet back to the ground and roll gently up to sit.\n213. \\\u003e \"I'll live.\"\n214. \\\u003e \"Good, 'cause I don't reckon I can quite carry you.\"\n215. \\\u003eShe stands and extends a paw to you.\n216. \\\u003e \"Can you walk okay?\"\n217. \\\u003eYou take the paw gratefully.\n218. \\\u003e \"Think so.\"\n219. \\\u003eYour head spins as she pulls you up, but once you're standing it steadies again.\n220. \\\u003e \"Yeah, I'm okay. Need a goddamn shower, but I'm okay.\"\n221. \\\u003eWhitney nods.\n222. \\\u003e \"You're telling me. A shower and a drink.\"\n223. \u0026nbsp;\n224. \\\u003eThe walk back to the cabin passes in a stumbling, sickly blur. Your mind resonantes with muted tones of pain, thrill, and nausea, and your feet seem to flop like springs beneath you.\n225. \\\u003eIt was like getting off a tilt-a-whirl you'd been dared into riding drunk.\n226. \\\u003eYou knew that because you'd done it once.\n227. \\\u003eIt had been a stupid fucking mistake.\n228. \\\u003eAnd Sarah, the girl who had been your kind-of-sort-of date, ditched you when you threw up on her.\n229. \\\u003eBut Whitney doesn't seem to be going anywhere.\n230. \\\u003eShe's kept hold of your hand, and you get the sense she wouldn't let go of it for the world.\n231. \u0026nbsp;\n232. \\\u003eYou're pretty sure it's for her sake as much as yours, but you can't quite make out what she's feeling. The shaking's gone now, and her eyes are dry as fossils. But the usual life you've come to expect from her seems only to flicker across her like worn-out neon.\n233. \\\u003eHer eyes are stern, and muzzle stoic. Her ears hang limp at half-mast.\n234. \\\u003eShe grins sometimes: A prideful, radiant grin.\n235. \\\u003eBut then the moment's gone, and each little flash seems to drown in a sea of uncertainty.\n236. \\\u003eHell, maybe you do know what she's feeling.\n237. \\\u003ePoor kid probably feels just like you.\n238. \\\u003eIt's more than just the pain and lingering shock. It's an exhausted sort of confusion that buzzes across your brain like radio static, and drowns your thoughts in the din.\n239. \\\u003eIt begs you to make sense of it, but you aren't even sure where to start.\n240. \\\u003eSo you walk, and you start at the beginning.\n241. \u0026nbsp;\n242. \\\u003eYou'd played your share of Army back in the day. Even carved yourself rifle from an old sycamore limb.\n243. \\\u003eEveryone was a hero when you played army. Even the fallen felled platoons with their 'dying breath', and then went home at night with the rest of you.\n244. \\\u003eYou never told anyone, but sometimes you wondered what it was really like.\n245. \\\u003eYou wondered: if it really happened to you, would you run?\n246. \\\u003eYou stop just short of the door and squeeze her paw.\n247. \\\u003e \"You know what, Kid?\"\n248. \\\u003eShe cocks her head, tired eyes twinkling.\n249. \\\u003e \"We didn't run.\"\n  \n  \n\n","series":{"name":"Silver Lining (Archival Version)","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1366901-silver-lining-chapter-8.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1458845-silver-lining-chapter-10.json"}}