What is it you really want, a Soulmate or just a Perfect Warrior?

Where Alice discovers a linguistic barrier that she wishes she didn’t cross

“Look, give me the phone then kindly fuck off and let me get dressed. Who the smeg are you anyway?” Being curled up in a ball freaking the frell out on the floor wrapped up in sheets is the most familiar thing I’ve gone through in the last 12 hours. She comes and kneels down next to me, gives me my phone (that has no signal) back, and I turn off the Germans that could only afford a drumset. But she doesn’t leave, just sits there and...

...Oh, that look is familiar too...

“Camelia Glorydew, ship’s surgeon.”...yeee-up, once again, I meet a new doctor and immediately have them think I’m nucking futs.  “And I only want to help, everyone has noticed you aren’t exactly coping with what’s happened.”

“No shit Sherlock, also news just in; water is wet. Just wait till I get over the culture shock and get my bearings, then I’ll start proper freaking out...  Also, silly question, why am I smegging naked?” ... Naked?! Gloves! Phew, still on...

“No I haven’t touched your gloves, and I am starting to understand Corporal Deepcutter’s insistence that I not. And you are naked because I’ve seen too many people get worse because of tight clothes blocking blood flow to leave anyone in them. Now, can you tell me what is wrong?” ... She reminds me a bit of Gram Washington... except short...

 “...I didn’t hurt anyone did I?”

“No, you just fainted after apparently speaking in four other voices.”

“Yeah, turns out the magic they brought me here didn’t quite understand the meatspace/cyberspace dichotomy... and you probably don’t either and mentioning it probably makes me seem madder and that’ll not be good for you releasing me from whatever you call medical seclusion on this dirtball and and and... can I have my clothes back please?”

“Of course, they’re in the table, I’ll give you some privacy. Just open the door when you’re dressed, the corporals have the rest of your things outside. I think you’ve made a good impression on them two, they don’t willingly interact with anyone on the ship other than me and Lieutenant Sararic.”

After rolling over to the table, that has a high lip so my things really are ‘in the table’, I can see that all my stuff is in there so; “What ‘rest of my things’, everything is here?”

She’s about to leave the room and turns back to me with a smirk on her face. “I don’t know, I’m just the surgeon, they don’t tell me anything.”

Hang on a moment...“Wait! Just how private is this room? Am I going to have others barging in?”

“This is the Female Guest Stateroom, only person you’ll be sharing it with is Colonel Aerilaya, and she is probably still in briefing with Commander Tiderider, so very private unless you leave the door open. Anything else?” After a quick shake of my head she leaves and shuts the door... finally some privacy... time to actually see what that magic whoopla did to my hoo-haa...

...

... Okay, I am never  calling it that again...

...I’m whole, like really whole (like really got a hole... bad Allie, stop being pervy), everything is right, all my scars are gone...all my scars are gon...

...

...what about those scars?...

...

... Gone... like completely gone... like smooth and unmarked like it never happened...

... YESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYES...

... Fuck this ship I wanna stand up and dance around...

...

...nope, still feels badwrong having bare arms... bear arms might be fun though... I should probably get dressed, and empty my pockets, see what smeg I actually got with me.

I have camos of holding... I guess it makes sense, I’ve shrunk, they’ve shrunk, all the pockets were full, it was either magic them or burst them... but it’s still smegging mental, they’re all at least twice the size inside. And my belt is long enough to double wrap it round me, so yay, no need to spend hours rebraiding thirty five meters of paracord. My training bra is now a proper bra, and it fits perfectly, so more yay, don’t have to arse about with medieval lingerie. Knickers fit properly too, and cause I don’t need to double up no more, I’ve got a spare pair, more no having to deal with fucked up regressive evil undies.

Feels nice having my feet free after... shit, 21 hours,  no wonder they ache. Well, bare feet are the least of their problems if they’re prudes, not like this top covers much more than my bra, and it’s warm enough to get by without my vest (also ‘ of holding’). Right, time to let them in, and see what this ‘rest of my stuff’ is.