"You're sure everything's ok?" the captain asked as she navigated the shuttle around some spinning chunks of hull plating.

I grimaced and lied, "I'm ok."

Piper glanced at me then her attention returned to the view outside the windows. "You don't sound ok Amanda. What's troubling you? Is it the lack of gravity? Or the fact that we're getting closer to the wreck?"

I shook my head slightly, then clenched my teeth as I immediately regretted it.

She gave me another quick look then stated, "I'd like you to tell me. If it's going to affect your ability to function out here we'll head back to the ship."

Her voice got a little more serious, this wasn't her talking like a concerned friend, she was my captain and commanding officer now. "It's not a question of toughing it out or not wanting to look weak or being worried about disappointing me. If there's something impacting your performance it could put the two of us in danger Amanda. So please be honest with me and tell me what's wrong."

"Sorry boss," I sighed. "You're right, it's just kind of embarrassing."

I braced myself then admitted "I didn't notice these problems back when we had the suit modified, I suppose because I was only in it for a minute or so and never in zero-g. The um, modification for my tail just feels incredibly wrong. Like it's rubbing my fur all the wrong way? And there's no space in these seats for my tail, that's why I have it wrapped around onto my lap but because of the e-suit I can't feel it and that makes me feel weird too."

With another sigh I continued, "And my ears don't have enough room to move around properly, so they're constantly hitting the inside of the helmet which both tickles and itches. And finally it's almost making me motion-sick the way the helmet's comm speakers make it sound like you're standing nose to nose with me every time we talk? There's this huge disconnect between my eyes telling me you're seated a meter to my right and my ears telling me you're in front of me."

By that point I was blushing, and I added quietly "I guess I never consciously realized before how much more sensory information I get from my vulpine traits. I won't let it impact my work though, we don't need to turn back."

Piper was quiet for a few moments, but I was positive she was trying not to laugh or something like that.

When she did finally speak her voice was level and serious, as she asked "You don't get those sensory issues when you're on the ship and talking to me through the comm?"

"No," I shook my head again, and again regretted it. "That's different, because I know your voice is coming through a speaker and I can see the speaker and hear that's where the sound is coming from?"

"Actually now that I think of it that's probably why I get so confused talking with Jenny when she's using the intercom rather than her HPD? With her voice coming from multiple speakers in the ceiling my ears don't know where to focus, and I don't know where to look."

The captain was quiet again for a few moments. By that point we were less than a hundred meters from the bow section of the Hammersmith, and Piper was using the shuttle's thrusters to get us into a matching tumble.

It was an odd experience. As we approached the ship it felt like we were moving on a level plane while the wreck was tumbling and spinning. But over the next two minutes or so it felt like the Hammersmith slowed down while the universe started turning around us. When she was finished the large hull next to us appeared to be completely motionless, while the stars around us turned and spun.

Finally she moved the shuttle closer, until we gently touched against the side of the hull. At that point she engaged magnetic clamps to secure the shuttle against the Hammersmith's bow, and we were basically ready to go.

With that done the captain looked at me again and asked, "So are you ready for this? Be honest Amanda, if you don't think you can handle it we'll abort the mission. I can come back with Sarah and see what we can do."

I took a deep breath, then nodded "I'm ok. I'll be fine."

"Ok then," she stated. "Unbuckle and follow me."

Moving in zero-g inside the e-suit was very different than being in zero-g inside the Demeter. Or maybe it wasn't specifically the suit, the lack of atmosphere probably played a big part as well. Back on the ship my tail actually helped me move around. I wondered if my big floofy appendage almost acted like a sail or a rudder or something.

Sealed in my suit and without any air outside, it just flapped around uselessly. And ontop of that it felt really uncomfortable so I tried not to do it. I couldn't help it though, my body was already so used to having the tail that using it was second-nature.

So I did my best to ignore the unpleasant sensations, from both my tail and my ears, as I followed the captain to the aft part of the shuttle where she was already preparing for our EVA.

One end of a tether was clipped to the belt of my suit. The other end was on a spool anchored to the ceiling at the back of the shuttle. Then a three or four meter length was clipped from me to Piper's suit. So the shuttle was clamped to the side of the wreck, I was connected to the shuttle, and the captain was connected to me.

I vaguely remembered learning about this sort of thing back in my first year with the Navy, during the obligatory EVA training. The tether was made of a flexible high-strength line, coated with a softer material to protect it and the people using it. The spool would feed out the line as Piper and I ventured away from the shuttle, it'd keep us tied to the craft incase one of us came loose, and finally it'd show us the way back incase we got lost inside the wreck.

Next she grabbed a pair of toolkits from the shuttle's equipment locker. One was clipped to my belt, the other clipped to hers. And finally she hit the controls to open the shuttle's overhead loading door.

A few panels in the ceiling dropped downwards a couple inches, then slid and rotated to starboard and opened up the view overhead. When it was done we had a large rectangular window to the void, about two meters across and three meters long.

"Follow me," Piper said, then she used her hands to pull herself up and out of the shuttle. "And try not to look anywhere but the ship hull, ok? If you're not used to this kind of work it can make you dizzy or nauseous, so just focus on the wreck which looks like it's not moving."

"Yes ma'am," I replied as I followed her out.

Even doing as she said it was still a bit of a head-spinning experience, and a very blatant reminder that there's no 'up' in space. Or rather, 'up' is in whatever direction you want it to be at the time.

Up in the shuttle turned out to be 'astern' from the Hammersmith's point of view. For me and Piper though, we were using the side of the Hammersmith as a surface for our magnetic boots to cling to which meant 'up' was 'port-side' for both the ship and the shuttle, which appeared to be laying on it's side on the hull plating.

All it took was one glance at the stars spinning around us for me to focus intently 'down' at the Hammersmith's hull. And that's when I realized it wasn't smooth. Or rather, we'd parked on the only smooth bit, which was nearer the bow. Aft of our position the thick dense hull plates were wrinkled and ripped, there were jagged edges and seams where the hardened alloy had been peeled apart like foil.

The captain had already figured out the safest point of ingress and she led me over to it. It was one of the ship's main airlocks, and for some reason both inner and outer doors were open, which gave us a safe and easy way to get in.

I was just wondering how and why the airlock was wide open like that when I realized the answer. The doors weren't open, they were missing. From the look of it they were torn free of the ship, probably during the initial blast from the mine.

Piper paused just outside the airlock and took a clip from her toolkit. She used it to connect our main tether line to a hand-hold outside the airlock, sort of like a mountain climber would secure their lifeline as they made their ascent.

Then the two of us made our way inside, and as we did so 'up' changed to match the ship's orientation.

Our suit helmet lights illuminated the dark silent corridor, and from the inside there was no sense of movement at all. It was easy to forget the ship was in a perpetual tumble, surrounded by a field of debris.

On the other hand it was impossible to forget we were in a wreck. The main corridor was barely recognizable, and it was a mess of potentially dangerous debris. Dozens of panels had been dislodged from the walls and ceiling and floor, and in some places there were tangles of cable and conduit floating loose.

Even so, I knew we were in the main port-side corridor, that stretched the length of the ship. In fact I felt a little stir of emotion as I realized the airlock we'd just come through was the same one I used when I first reported aboard. And this was the corridor I followed to the captain's wardroom, which was just a little ways aft of the airlock.

That path was completely blocked now, by debris and wreckage. Fortunately the infirmary was forward, and things weren't quite as bad in that direction.

"I'll take the lead," Piper stated, "But you're our navigator. You know your way around this ship, so tell me where we're going."

"Forward," I told her. "The infirmary should be about twenty meters ahead, on the starboard side."

As we started moving I added, "We'll have one bulkhead to get through, then the infirmary itself may be sealed as well."

The captain responded, "Understood. I have a cutting tool to handle that."

Sure enough we got to the bulkhead after only a few minutes. Most of the debris was free-floating so we were able to just nudge it aside out of our way. Then we had to stop while Piper got her portable cutting tool from her toolkit. It was similar to the device Sarah used to open the ship's safe, but that almost seemed ages ago now.

It took the captain about ten minutes to carefully carve a large circular opening through the hardened metal door. When it was complete she gave the round section a push, and it drifted inwards down the rest of the corridor. The two of us took a few moments to climb through, and then I was confronted with my first up-close casualty.

The body had been floating just inside the bulkhead, as if waiting to greet whoever came through.

I knew we'd encounter remains, and as a medic I was probably better-prepared than most people for that sort of thing. It still startled me and left my heart racing for a few moments.

Apart from the first glance when the body was fully illuminated from my helmet lights I avoided looking straight at it. I didn't recognize them in that initial glance, nor did I look for their name on their uniform, but I saw enough to know it was a man and death had come to him mercifully fast. The body showed all the usual signs of exposure to vacuum, but none of the indications that vacuum was the cause of death.

Piper continued to lead the way, and we navigated past more debris and loose cables and things floating free from the ceiling and walls until we finally reached the infirmary. The door was closed, but it had buckled and was no longer secure on its guides. Not that there was any power in the ship to open or close it anyways.

It only took a minute or so to cut through the thinner alloy, then Piper carefully moved the door aside. She stepped through first, and a moment later I followed her into what had been my assigned workspace for three quarters of a year.

Like everything else I'd seen so far, the place was a mess. Part of the ceiling had collapsed, and a large chunk of equipment I didn't recognize now filled part of the space in my office. That was surrounded by panels and cables and all the other flotsam and jetsam that floated silently in the dark enclosed space.

My eyes found the desk and chair where I'd been seated prior to the emergency call in engineering. I could easily imagine myself sitting there, staring at the wall as I daydreamed of a better future and a better life for myself, after finally reaching my goal and getting my transition.

The desk was still in place, bolted to the floor. The chair was also still in place, pinned by that chunk of equipment that had come down through the ceiling.

Without a doubt if I'd been there when the mine struck, I'd be dead. My mangled remains would be crushed between my chair and the stuff that came down from whatever was above the infirmary. The only consolation was knowing I'd have died instantly, and probably wouldn't have even known what happened.

The sight and the realization left me with a surge of emotion, but I knew it wasn't the time or place to process any of that. So I tried to cover it up with humour instead.

I glanced at Piper and stated, "I swear boss I usually left the place a lot more clean and tidy than this..."

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