The Sassinia-Sifsdottir Residence
11:12 a.m.
Kara "Gravity" Sifsdottir had always been a fighter, genetically engineered to serve her glorious empire in war. It was ironic that now that she had found peace, she was still fighting. Whenever she awoke, she had to fight the instinctive urge to make her bed, and report to her duty station ASAP. Whenever her professors called on her in class, she had to fight the instinctive urge to stand up in rapt attention, answer their question, and call them "Ma'am!" or "Sir!". Worst of all, whenever a loud noise startled her, she had to fight the urge to go for a weapon and respond violently to a nonexistent threat.
But that wasn't to say she was making no progress. Just this morning, she hadn't made her bed! Suck it, military indoctrination!
The military did have its perks, she admitted. For instance, the average person would call the apartment she shared with Sacre "basic" or "cramped". That person had most likely never shared a expeditionary-class gunship with twenty other crewmates. Kara, who had never had a place of her own, considered this the height of luxury.
As it was, many of their belongings still sat around in boxes. They were supposed to spend the day unpacking. So, of course, Kara lay in the middle of the living room on her back, dressed short-shorts and a band tee from her home universe. In her hands she held Starlight under his front legs. It was a familiar game for the housecat-sized robotic dragon. She would shove him into the air with all of her strength, and once at the height of the throw, Starlight would gently flap back down into her waiting arms. Repeat as necessary.
Basically, doing absolutely anything other than unpacking.
11:12 a.m.
Kara "Gravity" Sifsdottir had always been a fighter, genetically engineered to serve her glorious empire in war. It was ironic that now that she had found peace, she was still fighting. Whenever she awoke, she had to fight the instinctive urge to make her bed, and report to her duty station ASAP. Whenever her professors called on her in class, she had to fight the instinctive urge to stand up in rapt attention, answer their question, and call them "Ma'am!" or "Sir!". Worst of all, whenever a loud noise startled her, she had to fight the urge to go for a weapon and respond violently to a nonexistent threat.
But that wasn't to say she was making no progress. Just this morning, she hadn't made her bed! Suck it, military indoctrination!
The military did have its perks, she admitted. For instance, the average person would call the apartment she shared with Sacre "basic" or "cramped". That person had most likely never shared a expeditionary-class gunship with twenty other crewmates. Kara, who had never had a place of her own, considered this the height of luxury.
As it was, many of their belongings still sat around in boxes. They were supposed to spend the day unpacking. So, of course, Kara lay in the middle of the living room on her back, dressed short-shorts and a band tee from her home universe. In her hands she held Starlight under his front legs. It was a familiar game for the housecat-sized robotic dragon. She would shove him into the air with all of her strength, and once at the height of the throw, Starlight would gently flap back down into her waiting arms. Repeat as necessary.
Basically, doing absolutely anything other than unpacking.
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