A cursory look at the information console that displayed my status when I stepped into the chamber confirms it.
The stasis chamber is offline.
So much for seeing if it would provide any useful information.
Such as where the hell I am right now. Or where Ree is.
I don't have the time to fully comprehend what the actual fuck is going on before the tremors hit, sending me bouncing against the padded interior. I slam my fist on the control panel, a futile gesture against the dead tech.
"Great," I mutter, the word thick with sarcasm. "Unhinged jarhead due for routine psych evaluation meets her end in tubes built by pink cum-covered aliens. Just peachy."
I have never been the superstitious sort, but if this little mess really ends in my death, I and whatever deity is in charge of fate are going to have a drawn-out talk.
They'll really need to explain whose parade I fucked up so badly in a past life to warrant having to go through this shit.
I turn my focus toward the glass see-through pane in front of me and feast my eyes on the chaos around me.
If the monumental quantities of red earth I can see is anything to go by, we crash landed.
Tremors start again as the view outside the chamber changes, and I realize it must be sliding down rocks. I have a ridiculous impulse to jump out of it before I remind myself that a metal can is better than nothing.
The slow slide turns into a roll.
The momentum increases within moments, and I bounce off the sides of the chamber like a ping-pong ball. Pain blooms in multiple locations, then the chamber comes to a sudden halt.
The glass slams into a rock, and a moment later, I slam into it.
When I come out of my daze, the first thing I notice is the new webbed pattern of breaks across the glass. The second thing is the burning pain on my forehead.
I lift a shaking hand up to it and it comes away covered in blood.
Must have rung my bell.
My gaze drifts down to my body, the bright pink hair clashing with the stark reality of the situation and I am quick to let a string of curses rip from my lips, a torrent of vitriol aimed at the slime-covered bastards who subjected me to this ridiculous modification.
Afterwards, I feel moderately better.
It's time to get out of this death trap and see where I am.
But not as a sex Barbie.
No way am I wandering around an alien planet with a head full of cotton candy and my ass bared to the fucking wind.
Reaching deep within myself, I focus on the tickling sensation of the band around my stomach.
I have a vague niggling thought about how the thing works, which was in my mind even before Ree brought it up. Strange, because I have no recollection of being awake between being captured and having her in front of me.
I let out a growl at the memory of getting the shit kicked out of me before being sold to aliens.
"Fuck you, Chet!" I yell, causing my head to hammer more, but something in my chest to loosen.
Life's a tradeoff that way.
I make myself focus back on the being-clothed plan.
Why does it feel like I know how to use it?
I guess if the slimes have the tech to modify a body to such drastic levels it isn't too much of a stretch that they might have found some way to insert usage instructions in our heads.
