Boundless

Fragile and Fierce

Once upon a time, a Girl was trained to withstand torture.

She was young, full of energy, some traumas under her belt, freshly recruited into the Black Ops. And she was tough, this Girl - just like her Uncle.

Trained to resist incapacitant chemicals, interrogation, physical strikes, isolation, hunger, pain.

The one thing no one tells you about torture; virtually everyone cracks. In films and fairy tales, the shiny hero will keep his honor and his silence, and all ends well.

Only valor won't hold against such cruelty, not long, at least. You have to build your endurance, steel your mind. Become a motherfucking machine, cold and calculating.

And you see, you could work towards this goal - training, preparing yourself for it.

With training, you would have a chance - not of resisting torture endlessly, no. No, no, no. You would have a chance to gather your wits and try to find an out.

Because everyone cracks. Every. One. Cracks.

And the Girl, the one that went to the Moon (remember her?), would later be trained to withstand torture. And to withstanding torture, being tortured becomes part of your training.

***

"Sistri", the voice came from the Gauntlet in the blue Medic's left wrist. "How is she?"

Not great , the Medic thought, but said instead:

"Stable and alert. Her cast seems to be holding well", because, of course, the Girl was not only on the edge of her first heat - she also had a fucking broken arm.

"My cast is just fine", Lance grumbled. Back to the visitors' quarters, she was curled up into a ball in her bed. Sistri observed from the room's open door.

"You should drink something", the Medic suggested softly - her gentleness lost in translation.

Lance groaned. "Is this going to get worse?"

Sistri looked down. Oh, yes, it would get worse (and Lance was already experiencing great discomfort). Heats were an overwhelming experience, but the first time? The very first heat?

Mature females would face it bravely, somewhat prepared by their previous experiences - they knew what was coming. But the first time was an overall overpowering experience (in every sense of the word), and in Lance's case? Not having control over her own body was also freaking terrifying.

Don't lose your mind, Lance, don't lose your fucking mind, God, I can't black out again; the Girl curled even more, tensing all her muscles, forcing her brain into staying aware of her body.

Since very few oomans ended up developing this trait, the Yautjas didn't know what to expect and Lance was blossoming fast - her discomfort had amped considerably in the last six hours.

"You will reach a point when it doesn't make much of a difference. The vast majority of our females say the relief and pleasure is so great, it overshadows the misery they go through", Sistri said. Infertile, the blue Medic didn't have personal experiences to share.

The Girl groaned something and buried herself further into the furs. Now the Girl understood why females looked so mean.

I need... to keep... my fucking shit together.

Angry. Lance was growing angry - which was better than helpless. Anger would sustain her, yes, but too much anger...

Breathe. He counted. Ah'kaedh always counted.