texted during the meeting, displaying as being from Nova Barnett

[petridish]

[Those who check the contact list may notice there is now only one Jane Shepard listed, but this user looks almost identical to her, just mad.]

Suggestions for ways to change your appearance? Long term but not as permanent as that asteroid's genetic modification, both things that can be done on the trip and recommendations for service providers for when we get back.

[All Nova's replies will also be in text unless otherwise specified.]

Comments

[squadgoals]

[With zero energy, time, or patience for snippy comebacks or snide remarks, she slashes through to the meat of each statement.]

First of all, I've always made it a point to give you space. That's why you never see me.

Second, there is nothing I can do about the TAB. Take it up with the Savrii. Realistically speaking, your specializations have a better chance of fixing that than mine.

Third, I would never touch someone's pets without their permission. I hope your crab is okay.

[She's serious. Unlike some pet trashers that could be named.]

I completely support your move to change your appearance and name. I encourage it. All I'm asking is for you to consider the highly likely possibility, based on what I've said and network evidence to the contrary, that I was not the one who killed you.

Didn't in my own universe, didn't in yours either, apparently, and didn't here.

[Snapping the TAB shut with an irritation she hates herself for having in the first place, she returns to cross-checking the contents of a pacdisk.]

[petridish]

[So she didn't kill her clone. Interesting.]

I meant don't comment on my posts or message me, because I don't want or need your support or your encouragement.

[She's not touching the rest of this comment. She's not thanking her for the space, she's not taking the bait of "touching someone's pets without permission" (perhaps her counterpart also tried to get the hamster off the warship), and she's not publicly backing down on the blame game.]

[squadgoals]

Understood.

You stop telling people I killed you, and you'll never hear from me again.

[Easy. And since she didn't, this isn't exactly a huge ask, right?]

[petridish]

Nice try.

[squadgoals]

[The TAB flashes, and she picks it up — and almost throws it across the room. Compulsion quashed, a similarly catty urge to type "you really show your age sometimes" flares up, hot and angry.

No. Patience. Honesty. A choice. A chance.]

I didn't kill you.

That's all there is to it.

I can't force you to change how you feel, or what suits your view of me, or take away the trauma you were forced to endure, but those are the facts. I'm sorry, I really am.

Just consider why you're doing it.

[petridish]

Seen by Nova

[She refuses to consider it.]