You struggle to sit up in the bed, arms sinking deep into the soft mattress below, but it simply isn’t any use. This monstrosity has swallowed you up, and cannot escape! Your only hope is to give up and lie back down. Hopefully, you’ll eventually regain enough energy to escape, but today is not the day.

What a shame.

It’s risky out there anyways. Who knows where that abomination could have gotten to during all that chaos? It’s supposed to be kept on the other end of the ship from you, but there’s no way for you to confirm that. Oh, sure, its handlers might be visible, but it itself?

Too risky. The last time you came even remotely close to one of those things, you were bedridden for a week. You’ll stay here for now, trapped by the sheets and beddings.

There is still one thing you can do. It’ll save you some work in the future, and it’s not like you’ll be able to keep up your current active power for long; you need to rest very soon.

You snap your fingers and watch the servo-skull putter over again. It drops the vox-caster on the foot of the bed this time — an act of spite, you imagine — causing you to curse as you reach for it with your tail. Twisting over, you just barely reach it with the tip of your tail — blunted to avoid tearing up the bed — and flick it over to your hand in one deft motion.

“Lord Captain,” you say, thumbing the switch on the device.

“What is it?” comes the reply. “This had better be—”

“If you would kindly, please adjust attitude by positive point-three-five-three arcseconds about the Astronomican’s first ray. Yaw negative one arcseconds and return the starboard macrobatteries to index. Fire cannon three, hold two seconds, then four and six. Fire on my mark.”

“What? Why?”

“For fun. Now, do it. Please.”

“You… Fine. Three minutes until ready.”

And three minutes later, on your mark, the deck shudders three times. You frown, then raise the vox-caster to your lips again. Twice more, you order a maneuver, followed by a firing solution, and twice more the roar of distant artillery, reduced to a mere murmur by distance, echoes through your quarters.

“Thank you, Lord Captain,” you say, before abruptly tossing the vox-caster aside. The servo-skull dives down, just barely catching it before it can shatter across the floor. As the servo-skull flies off, you can just barely hear the confused shouts of the Lord Captain emitting from the device. Now though, it is but a tinny whisper on the artificial wind, quickly silenced by folds of fabric waving in the breeze.

With that out of the way, you shift about and settle into a more comfortable position. You’re reluctant to fully let go, but the more you hold it, the worse the toll will be. Now, with only a few days awake, you’ll merely have a nice nap. More, and you’ll be asleep for days.

“Servo-skull. ‘R-and-R’ response for any messages. Return to standard operations in twenty hours.” You get no response from the skull, but you didn’t expect one anyways. You know it heard you as the lights go out only a moment later, leaving only the haunting glow of a hundred billion stars to illuminate the room.

And so, you suck in a deep breath and let go of your grasp on the warp. Exhaustion immediately fogs your head with fatigue, weighing down your mind and muscles. The cost of so many hours spent awake has come back to haunt you. Your body needs sleep. You want sleep, and so you give in.

As your breath stabilizes into a regular rhythm, the faint ringing of a ship-wide alarm enters your ears. As you watch, crew begin rushing back to battle stations, so recently left with relief at the closure of the last battle. And now, even on the far end of the room, hidden behind neatly arranged rows of banners, you can hear the angry cries of the dear Lord Captain frantically attempting to hail you for an explanation.

A smile creeps across your lips, and then you’re—

≡][≡ ⬦⬦⬦ ≡][≡

—awake once more.

You sit up, an alarm blaring in the back of your mind. Habitually, you reach over to your left, grasping your headband and mask and place them on. As you swing your legs over the side of the bed, rushing in your panic, you stand up too quickly and smash your head into the bed above.

“Wha? I’m awake! I’m— uh, Xena? What happened?” Tera says, blearily rubbing her eyes as she sits up above you.

“Owww.”

“Xena?”

“It hurts… Am I bleeding?”

“No. Did you hit your head?”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, are you alright?”

“...Maybe.”

“Let me take a closer look.”

Fortunately, it seems you haven’t actually injured yourself, but you make a note to ask Master Corr for a more in-depth inspection later today. With Tera’s help, you start to dress yourself for the day.

Tunic, pants, and… robe. You look in your drawers at the neatly folded garments. Next to your two sets of Initiate’s robes is one of red and gold: a remnant of memory. The attire of your other-self.

The symbol of your office, upon which a metal, two-headed bird makes its nest. Two unknowns, pieces to a larger puzzle lie before you, and yet you still don’t know any more about what happened and why.

“Xena? You ready yet?”

“Almost!”

You give your mysterious accoutrements one last look, then grab one of your typical brown robes and throw it on. There’s too many things to do, so you’ll focus on what’s most important first.

Breakfast!

≡][≡ ⬦⬦⬦ ≡][≡

The questions weigh heavy on your mind, and you only have two options for lightening your load: diving deeper and finding answers, or spreading it out by speaking of it with someone else. Considering all the worry your Masters have for your safety, you’ll go with the second option. But, who are you going to talk to?

Your friends, as great as they are, wouldn’t know what to do or what to say. They’re probably even less risk averse than you! No, you’ll have to speak with one of your Masters, and the sooner the better. Therefore, Master Corr will be your unfortunate, unwitting victim.

“Good morning, Master.”

“A good morning to you, Xena! Here, come here! I’ve got something to show you.”

You approach, curious as to what she has. She sits at the counter in her office, her favorite chair pulled up and extended as high as possible. On the counter is a large container into which she peers, a wide smile on her face. There’s no way you’ll be able to look into the container like her from where you stand, but you don’t have to physically get up there to do so. Force Sight is ever so useful.

Within the box is something alive: a creature you’ve never seen before. It wiggles about, a great many appendages massing at its side. You hear a soft panting sound and wet squishing noises, as well as a thumping whenever the animal limbs impact the side of the box.

“What is it?”

“Come on up here! Pull that chair— ah, nevermind.” Without warning, Master Corr reaches down and picks you up, lifting you into a sitting position on the counter. A loud clattering of hard plastic against linoleum floor echoes through the room as your tail sweeps through several jars of various materials, knocking them over and sending them rolling off the countertop.

“Ach, I’ll get that later. Now, take a look!”

“I could already see it from down there.”

“Huh? Oh, right. What do you think?”

“It’s… nice?”

“Is that all?”

“Uh, I’m not sure what it is.”

“Yeah! Me neither! But they’re cute as all hell!”

They? Did you miss something? You look closer, then reach out with your other senses. Oh, right. They.

What you thought were fat limbs sprouting from the side of the creature are in fact, just smaller versions of the creature itself, fighting each other and suckling at the mother’s teats. What a stupid mistake. These things are just dogs. Not very interesting, but certainly still adorable.

“Why are they here?”

“Oh, I’m just taking care of them for their owner. She’s in the Halls of Healing right now and just didn’t have anyone else available to care for them.”

“... Can I have one?”

“Unfortunately, no. No pets for Initiates!”

“Please? I’ll take really good care of it.”

“I’m sorry, Xena, but no. They already have a good home: with ME! Muahahahaha!”

You pull up your mask enough to show her the biggest frown you can muster, but she simply keeps laughing her most evil laugh. Finally, she peters out and says, “I’m just kidding. They’ll all go back to their owner. So, I’m sorry, but neither of us will be able to keep any.”

“Aw, okay. Well, I actually had something I wanted to talk to you about before we start.”

“Oh, sure. Go ahead!”

You speak about your dreams, explaining what you saw regarding the thing in your arm, the spherical room you feel is yours, the battle you saw, and all the little details in between. As you speak, Master Corr’s expressions change dramatically, swinging from delight in the new discoveries you made, to worry and disapproval at your descriptions of war and weapons.

“That’s quite a story you’ve got there, Xena, and a heavy burden to carry if this ‘other-you’ is really another you. There’s so many ways to explain who exactly this other-you is — if you’ve read fiction — ranging from an alternate reality to a future yet to come.”

“What if it’s a past that I’m seeing?”

“Yes, that’s also another possibility.”

Master Corr sighs and leans over, head hanging down. “Xena, there’s many unexplained things in this Galaxy, but not all of them are unexplainable. Many are just misunderstood phenomena, and many more are manifestations of the powers of the Force. You, however, have something new: the warp, and that brings about even more possibilities I can’t even imagine. Anything is possible, in my opinion. And that, unfortunately, means there’s just so many more questions for you to answer. I think that you should either explore further until you find your answer, or just wait until the truth uncovers itself. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you; there are some things you can put off, and I think this is one of them.”

Procrastination. You’re not sure if you like that, but it makes sense.

“Thanks, Master Corr. I’ll think about it.”