Cargo Bay
Junko stood idly by for a few moments, unsure of what to do. She usually found herself listless while on leave, and so took very little of it, and without anything concrete to do until the Chusa’s dinner later in the evening she felt rather adrift. The urge to crawl back into a maintenance conduit and do some fiddling was almost overpowering, but the yard techs would be handling that now.
Finally, she mentally chanced upon some unfinished business she had to attend to. She glanced over, but found the Shosho occupied in conversation with their alien guest. Not wanting to interrupt, she sent a message as she walked down the ramp and out onto the flight line.
Code:
To: Shosho Ketsurui Hanako, 1XF Squadrons, Commanding
Ma’am,
In light of recently issued orders, and seeing that I am now in proximity to the necessary
facilities and in possession of otherwise unused time, it is my intention to proceed to Fort
Hanako’s hospital facility and present myself for upgrade to the NH-33 standard. Should
the procedure preclude my travel with the rest of the crew to the accommodations you
have so generously arranged, I will procure transport independently and meet the crew
there.
V/r
Itto Heisho Takeda Junko
The walk across the tarmac was quiet, which satisfied Junko. It had taken her years to finally start acknowledging her emotions, to admit that they were as legitimate as they were unavoidable. Times like this, when they swirled up and occasionally threatened to overwhelm her, made her question the wisdom of that transformation. Still, she did have a lot to think about.
So much of her childhood and even her first years in the Star Army had been driven by an internal, dysfunctional self-concept about her body, her species, and fundamental doubts about the existential worth of life in general. The NH-29H model she had been using for the past five years was both a blessing and a curse, alleviating some parts of her dysfunction and exacerbating others. And then there was the effort her mother had put into securing it for her.
She knew, from reading about the process, that the upgrade didn’t actually involve a transfer to an entirely new body, but rather a total internal femto-machine restructuring of her present one. Even its appearance would remain the same to her own unusual human-form Nekovalkyrja model. Still, the loss of the identity, of the “NH-29H” label meant something to her. She wasn’t yet sufficiently at peace with herself to know what, exactly, but could at least admit the deep significance of the moment.
Junko ground to halt on some unconscious order and looked up. She had to blink away tears from her eyes; she hadn’t noticed them until that moment. When her vision cleared she realized she was in front of the hospital. Taking a moment to wipe her eyes and straighten her uniform, she nodded to herself, straightened her spine, and marched into the building and up to reception.
“Hello,” she said, wondering if her eyes were obviously puffy and red. “I am Itto Heisho Takeda Junko of the YSS
Eucharis. I’m here for an NH-29 to NH-33 conversion.”