"The containment is gonna fail. We have to get out of here now!"

"Just another minute--"

"We don't have another second! We have to go! Now!"

"If I just reverse the--"

"No! C'mon! Take my hand!"

"I can stop it..."

"No you can't! We--"

Screams. Flame. Charring flesh. My melting arm.

"Tom!"

The head turns. Skin sloughs away. Eyes boil and burst. A blackened skull smiles with blackened teeth. Screaming again.

My own screaming.

Noooooo!

"Excuse me? Are you okay?"

He awoke with a ugly, convulsive shudder. Pain cut across his body, as if he had been wrestling with himself in his seat. The hand on his shoulder drew back with rapt concern, and went to hail for assistance.

"No," he said with unintentional sharpness, voice still lost in the last moments of a panicked nightmare. "Uh... no, no I'm fine, you don't have to call anymore."

"Are you sure?" came the gentle reply. He raised his head to her blue cheeks and broad, dark eyes, still marked by uncertainty. The nictitating membrane quickly slid over them before her eyelids blinked. Her resplendent uniform broadcast authority and confidence, ready to snap to attention at his word.

"Yes," he replied with surety. "Thank you, though."

Her small mouth curled into a genuine smile. Her deep color softened into its natural sapphire tint, much to his relief. The last thing he wanted was anyone agitated enough by him to notice his unease. Especially a professional like the shuttle attendant here, who had every authority to alert the pilot crew and dock at the nearest spaceport.

He didn't want anyone to ask questions.

"Bad dream?" she said conversationally.

And of course she asks a question, he observed. "Y-yeah. Let's say that."

"Anything I can do to help?"

He eyed her again. Her smile remained, as broad as it can be on a face dominated by eyeball.

"No, no, I think I'm okay."

"You think?" Her smile arced into more of a grin.

He attempted to answer, but the words broke into a smile despite himself. Eridanians like her were rare in the service sector of the galactic economy. The society on Eridanii Prime had maintained a distinct, reclusive nature thanks to a long and bloody history of alien contact, and therefore usually steered its incoming generations to behind-the-scenes careers like research, archival work, and technical diagnostics. An Eridanian that resisted those social pressure and involved themselves in direct contact with non-Eridanians was almost always going to be more extroverted than not, and commit themselves to that job to the fullest extent. At least in his experience, and she was only confirming his anecdotal evidence.

He clicked his tongue, then ran it over his teeth before speaking. "Promise to keep a secret?"

Her high brow raised with a subtle crinkle, pushing against her white hairline. "Only if it's not illegal."

"Ha, no." That at least was the truth. "I look Terran, from Earth, right?"

She blinked again before responding. "Yeah?"

His expression went smug before whispering, "I'm actually not."

Her cheeks flushed blue again. "What... do you mean?"

He flicked his wrist with a flourish, then tapped a spot near his palm. Cleanly, a panel slid beneath the skin of his arm, exposing metal and plastic.

She gasped, "Cyborg!"

"Something like that." That was also true... in a way. He tapped his wrist, and the panel returned, slipping back into place with no hint of visible seal.

"Wow," she breathed. Her eyes marveled at him. "I don't think I've met a cyborg before."

"You may have, you just weren't aware of it. Obviously." He grinned. "Still, there's only a few out there. And speaking of that, you're one of the few Eridanians I've met."

She blushed, a bright azure, at his recognition. "I know there's not many of us off-world."

"Guess we're two rarities, even in something as big as the galaxy."

She paused for a moment, then placed her hand on his shoulder again. She leaned over him and lowered her volume to a soft lilt. "So... is there anything I can do to help you?"