As we step into the corridor, and the world rematerialises around me, Sylvie pulls me along to the right. “You know we’ll get pranked hard, or worse, if we’re actually late again. The skies may be quiet, but we’re at the farthest edge of the frontier. We need to at least watch them.”

“Yeah, I know,” I reply, trying to locate myself within the fictional narrative, trying to pick up all of the contextual clues. “I’m right behind you, just lead me there and I’ll be fully awake, I promise.”

“Keep up, then!” she laughs, and puts on a burst of speed, breaking into a jog through the empty corridor.

I follow her, my long stride keeping pace easily. With each swing of my hips, it seems like I nestle into the landing better, until I’m wanting to put on even more speed just to test out the range of motion available to me. At the same time, my chest seems to be jostling more emphatically, and getting actually a bit uncomfortable? With a skipping break in my stride, I look down, and my breasts aren’t bigger or anything, so I shrug it off as perception and continue my pursuit. Thinking through it, I figure that it really must be just my awareness that shifted, and I’m pretty used to that – I have played a lot of varied characters through my many journeys. If it is more than usual, it must be the physical reinforcement.

Sylvie leads me to a door, labelled clearly as an ‘intrastellar listening post’. So, if we are military, we’re clearly in a very not-quite-military environment at the moment. We enter through the door, flushed from our jogging, and find a very relaxed room. Two couches dominate the space, with a high-tech touchscreen-style coffee table between them. The far wall is a screen, showing the entire stellar system (and just at the left wall is a neighbouring star, closer than most stars would be). A host of objects are noted on the wall, but all of them are a minimally-visible green. The mechanics of the system are immediately obvious to me: if anything follows the expected path, you might show it, but you want to keep it visually easy to overlook. If anything changes its path, you should show it bright and strong, and probably also make a noise to rouse any who were relaxing too much in their watch.

“Hello, early morning watch!” Sylvie announces to the room’s occupants.

Sizing up the room again, I see the two previous watch members, both relaxing on the couches provided. On the left couch is a mature-looking young woman, hardened by training and looking extremely buff. Her silvered black hair is shoulder-length, draped over a shaved side, managing to balance femininity and ease of upkeep. Her posture completely disguises her height to me, but her build is robust, suggesting she might be shorter than average.

Her watchmate is a young man who is probably in his prime, but a little bit babyfaced. I can tell immediately that in a fistfight, he will only ever win through agility and cunning. His dark hair is on the very long side of short, either due for a haircut or intentionally suggesting that. “Woo,” he says without any vigour. “Another watch of nothing happening.”

“Alex,” the woman chides, “Do you really want something to happen? You want us to get first contact, here and now?”

“No. I want to be on a watch when a ship enters the system, Des. Or anything, really. Why don’t we get any of the asteroid discovery pings?” He sits up, suddenly motivated. “Yeah, of course it doesn’t mean anything, but... it’d be something to notice.”

“You mean like you’ve noticed the 3 asteroids that appeared during our watches this month? Just go get your sleep. I know I need it, too.”

“Well,” I address them, “At least it’s nice to know nothing happened in your watch.”

“Not on our watch,” Des nods, as she sits up to make room on her couch for one of us. She is, I now see, a very big woman, both tall and solidly built. “I don’t suppose you have anything for me yet, Sylvie?” she asks, as we make our way to the couches, Sylvie approaching Des and leaving me Alex’s.

“Not really. Some progress, but the plot just isn’t moving. I did have a weird dream about it though, so that’s fun,” she laughs as she sits down.

Alex smiles. “Well, add a dream sequence to that fanfic, for me. I’m off to get my own dreams. Here I am, hoping for dreams of dragons again.”

“Dragons?” I ask, sitting down beside him.

“Sure,” he nods. “Dragons are great. Magestic, powerful, wise. Or, terrifying, feral, and cunning.” He stands up, and stretches. “There really is a dragon for every situation, you just have to find it.”

“Go get your sleep,” I laugh, “and good luck.”

“Maybe stick to the friendly dragons, though!” Sylvie adds, as Alex exits the room.

“I’m gonna follow him too,” Des says, and stands up. “Hopefully I don’t dream up anything more terrifying than a gecko.”

“Good night, Destiny,” Sylvie says, looking up with a rueful smile.

“Good night,” I add, raising a hand in farewell, not that Des looks back to see it.

As the door closes, Sylvie sighs again, still looking longingly after her.

I hesitate. It really isn’t my place, and yet... “Girl, you need to talk to her about it,” I say softly.

“I knoow,” Sylvie wrings her hands. “I just keep getting flustered and she’s so pretty and, and... Yeah, I do. I really do.”

“Come on,” I say, getting up and joining her on her couch. “It’ll go well. She’s a friend, she knows you, you’ll get the chance to say what you need to, as long as you sit down and try.” I wrap my arm over her shoulder, pulling her over towards me.

“Thanks, Ash.” Sylvie smiles up at me. “You might get stuck with Alex a bit more, though.”

I laugh. “I’ve spent my share of time around his like before.” I’ve lived a fair bit of my life as his like, to be specific. “It won’t be a problem. You’re not getting rid of me, though. Not a chance.”

== * ==

We spend the watch with idle conversation and chill card games. I find it is really easy to carry on the chats – either, the game is using my subconscious to develop the world in ways I understand, or it’s giving me cues to the world around me. Like, somehow suspecting that Destiny is gay? I don’t know her well, at all, and yet it feels like I’ve seen small clues towards that for months.

The watch, as uneventful as it is, was enjoyable enough. My boobs feel itchy a few times, but nothing too bothersome. Finally, the next shift arrives – a pair of guys, who clearly aren’t intended to be main characters in whatever story plays out, nearly identical with average looks and crewcuts.

I feel kinda tired after the shift, and Sylvie agrees, so we head back to our quarters, now mostly in the comfortable silence of tired friends. I navigate through to my room, peel off the armour-ish jumpsuit thing that everyone on watch duty seems to wear, and fall into my bed, nearly naked. I reach up and pull out the tie holding back my hair, and fall asleep as it comes to rest around my head. I’ve slept an uncountable number of times, and yet, this is probably the most comfortable I have ever felt. What on earth is different about it?