Reborn: Book 1 The McKensie Chronicles

Chapter Two: Becoming McKensey

 February 22nd 2358

As I slowly wake up I begin to realize two things. First, I am on the floor. Second, something is moving on my arm! Jumping to my feet I scream as I brush a four-foot-long snake off my arm. Damn. I hope I didn't hurt it! It is similar in size and shape to a corn or king snake, but I do not recognize its patterns. I mentally thank whatever power there is that it didn't bite me. It's about now that realize I am still very much female, still on the wreck of a spacecraft, and that I REALLY have to pee! One more realization occurs to me as I make my way through the ship in search of a bathroom; the wound on my foot is completely healed. The blood-encrusted sports bra I used as a bandage is the only evidence I was ever injured.

It takes me more than 5 minutes to find my way to the bathroom. The toilet is like what you would expect to find on an RV or a boat, but at least it still works. The bathroom is about as small as an RV or a boat bathroom would be as well. Once finished I stand up and reach for the knobs of the sink to wash my hands. Finding none I put my hands under the faucet, hoping it is motion controlled, and look up into the mirror while I wait for the water to come on. For the first time, I see my reflection in the mirror; but it is not me at all. Instead, a beautiful young woman stares back at me. Though her face is dirty, she is uncommonly pretty. She has long strawberry-red hair that is wavy despite being tied in a ponytail. It extends almost to her waist. Her eyes are the most striking feature. They are not hazel, brown, blue, or even green as one might expect. Instead, they are a brilliant silvery white.

I step back and bump into the wall opposite the sink as I try to get more of this woman into view. The ample bosom is covered by the loose t-shirt I scavenged yesterday. I pull the shirt up a bit so I can see her waist, but not so far as to uncover anything I shouldn't. I can't help but smile as I take in the rare beauty; she smiles back at me. Untying the knot I put in her hair for the ponytail I let it cascade down around her shoulders. I am so mesmerized by this visage in the mirror that I stand there staring for almost ten minutes before I realize there isn't any water coming out of the sink. I'm not really sure why I expected there to be, I am on a crashed spaceship after all. Still, that the sink didn't work bothers me more than I can explain.

Shaking myself out of this reverie I quickly decide to get back to the problem at hand. My weirdest, most disturbing dreams have never lasted this long. Even though I know this can't possibly be real, a part of my mind is already processing what it will mean for my survival here if it is. If I am really marooned here, I need to start working out a plan quickly or I will die, and so will this young woman I have been trusted with caring for. For the rest of the day, I search the section of the wrecked ship I am in, mentally cataloging everything I see that I think would be helpful for survival. All the way forward there is a twisted opening. The jagged metal framework is all that remains of what I assume was the bridge section. It seems to have been torn away or demolished on impact. I turn back to make my way aft. I manage to force open a twisted hatch on the right revealing an armory. There is a hatch on my left as well, I assume this is the captain's cabin; that's where I'd put it anyhow. Unfortunately, bulkheads on that side this far forward were so damaged in the crash that the hatch is jammed. I can't get in there to search for clues to where I am.

Turning back to the armory, I wonder about the locks. Surely there was some kind of security. It must have been electronic and seems to have been reset after the crash. This room is small; no more than a walk-in closet with a rifle rack on one side, with some drawers beneath it. The other side has a row of Pistols, a narrow bench top for maintenance, and more drawers beneath the bench. In all, there are fifteen futuristic handguns and ten of what appear to be some form of a military combat rifle. In the drawers, I find maintenance tools, cleaning supplies, and ammunition. There are fifteen hundred rounds of what is pistol ammunition and two thousand rounds of rifle ammunition. The ammunition is all caseless, but the charges seem quite small to me with a polymer-like cylinder bonded to the base of the bullet that appears to be quite a bit tougher than the descriptions of caseless ammunition trials I read about. Maybe they finally perfected it.