OUTWORLD: Sea Dog

OUTWORLD: Sea Dog Part 11

Michelle whimpered like a pup as her consciousness flitted in and out. She blinked, trying to make sense of it all – she could just make out a male voice yelling at her. Just what it was actually saying was unclear at present. She strained to hear, commanding her ears to pick up what they could.

"Wake up."

Michelle moaned, suddenly back in bed at home. Milson and Madge were yipping excitedly and jumping around on the duvet – on her. "Wake up, Mile-high Michelle!" Madge hooted.

Michelle growled and tried to bury herself in her pillow, curling up tighter under the covers. Denzil Rickert's little jibe had spread beyond the gates of the Esther Ballard Academy, it would seem. "No. Go away!"

She yelped as something burrowed under the duvet. "No! No! Leave me alone!" she howled as she felt teeth biting into her toes. "Ow! Get offa me!"

Her sisters' laughter faded out, replaced by that male voice. "Wake up, Pow!"

Michelle grunted and found herself back in bed, in the grip of another memory. "Get up, Michelle!" her mother was barking. "Get up! Now!"

Michelle snuffled, muzzle still in pillow. "I'm tired," she protested weakly, her voice drowsy and muzzy. She squealed as an angry paw reached into her hair and pulled – hard.

"You're getting up now!" Martina Pow snarled.

Michelle cried as she was yanked roughly out of bed and pulled toward the door. "Momma, stop it!" she screamed. "Ow! Stop it!" She tried to bat her mother's paw away, tried to wriggle free. She wailed as her foot connected with something hard. She wanted this to end, for her Momma to be sweet and kind again.

"I've had enough of you, Little Miss Sleeper-in!" Martina Pow growled, turning to face her. "Get up and do as you're told from this day on, or there'll be trouble."

"I hate you!" Michelle yelled, baring her teeth to her mother. "Ever since you and Pa started fighting!"

The slap that connected with her face brought her back with a cry into the waking world.

"Wake up, Pow!" the voice said once more; it had an odd whistling quality. It carried on, but Michelle had a distinct feeling that its next words weren't aimed at her. "Leave the bloody formium and let's get back to the sub!"

Michelle coughed; her mouth tasted terrible, and she could barely breathe. "What's happening?" she managed.

"Pow?" the voice asked her. "It's Flink! You can hear me?"

Michelle nodded limply.

"Great," Flink cried. "Just hold on – I'm gonna swap out your oxy, okay? There'll be a quick second where you'll be without air, so hold your breath when I tell ya."

"Okay." Michelle blinked again, clearing her vision. Several angry red telltales were hooting at her, telling her that her air, her suit integrity, the immediate environment – all were in a critical state.

Another faceplate hovered in front of hers, and a female voice filtered in. "Pow, we're gonna take you back to the sub and get you fixed up."

"Ames," Michelle croaked.

Flink's faceplate joined Ames'. "Okay, Pow, hold your breath – now!"

Michelle did so. There was a loud hiss, and there was an odd sensation in her ears. "Keep holding it!" Flink instructed her. "Okay, now you can breathe!"

Michelle gasped as fresh oxy pumped into her suit. "Wait. What are you breathing?"

She didn't receive an immediate response; when Flink's face reappeared, she noticed that it wasn't behind a faceplate. Bubbles streamed from the Beaver's nose. Ask a stupid question, Michelle thought ruefully.