Holiday prompt the third! Author’s choice what the human shows their companion, as long as it goes pear-shaped
[AN: This story precedes yesterday’s]
Deathworlder entertainments are not advised for non-Deathworlders, said the Wikipedia Galactica, only the native life forms of a Deathworld can withstand even the most allegedly gentle of their entertainment vehicles. Though the Deathworlders insist that these entertainments are safe, be advised that they are only safe for Deathworlders.
Rael could easily believe, and understand those words, now. Especially ones he looked over the tallest peaks of a ride calling itself The Bone Bruiser. And very much especially you once he saw the look on Shayde’s face. It was a decidedly unholy and Deathworlder expression of anticipatory glee.
The same look, he recalled, she got when she saw the Space Elevator.
“No. Absolutely not. No way. I am not riding that with you.“
“Come on, yer the toughest thing there is next tae me! There’s no way it could hurt you. Yer vacuum-rated, and impact-proof. Ye could take a swim in lava, parkour around asteroids, and finish it up with a dip in liquid nitrogen.”
It was times like this, Rael regretted telling her that his species’ specs were publicly available. “One: just because I can, doesn’t mean I want to. Two: I am alpha-test. I do not want to find out where my factory flaws are the painful way. Three: there’s very little that you could offer to convince me.”
She took this as a challenge. “They do deep-fried chocolate cake…”
Curse her for knowing exactly how to bribe him. “Slices or whole?”
“How aboot a slice afore, an’ a whole one after?“
*
People were staring. He couldn’t really blame them, it wasn’t every day that a cogniscent turned completely silver in front of their eyes.
The memory of the ride, and their escape haunted him in flashes of vivid detail. The moment he knew that Shayde knew he was in trouble. The way that her face dropped from enthusiastic joy too worried terror as her eyes swirled from cheerful gold to a sickly chartreuse.
Her immediate reaction was to grab him and pull them both through their own shadows.
There was a moment of absolute darkness. Absolute cold. And somehow, terrifying voices demanding that they take his place.
And then, the blistering burst of genuine sunlight. Repeated impacts against the soft, cushioning walls of the bouncy castle. And her arms, tight around him, as she wept tearful apologies into his shoulder.
It took four medtechs just to get her away from him.
You need to visit a visit to the Med Bay, but it was a close thing. Some mis-assigned instinct to regurgitate had battled furiously with his designed desire to hang on to every last calorie he got.
Thankfully, she had calmed down once they announced he would be fine.
And once the medtechs cleared away, he could see that she had fetched him a Double-Dog Dare Platter from Deep-Fried Everything. With spray cream, and spray cheese, and chocolate sprinkles.
Now, he sat quietly, clinging to his reflective blanket and picking gingerly at the feast before him. Shayde sat opposite the bench, primed and ready to dash for anything he desired. And snivelling quietly into handkerchief.
“I thought ye’d be awreet,” she repeated intermittently. “I’m sorrah. I’m reet sorrah…”
This felt worse than a trip through a wormhole. At least going through Hyperspace included the need to eat. “How silver was I?“
“Fall-blown smooth mirror.“
She was right to be terrified for him. As he recalled, the next stage up in hazard signs was complete torpor with flashing, luminous spots at regular intervals. “Next time, assuming I consent to a next time… we work our way up.”
“Babbie Funland it is, then,” she agreed. “After ye get yer calories in.”
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