Switch to "A Walk through the Fertile Crescent"

After cycling through several options, she paused at "Walk through the Fertile Crescent." The description promised "ambient sounds of ancient agricultural heartlands, designed to promote deep, restorative sleep and stimulate natural biorhythms." Something about it called to her exhausted mind.

As the audio surrounded her, the pod filled with subtle sounds of rustling grasses, distant animal calls, and something like a faint song of voices. The padding beneath her seemed to beckon her downwards like a bed of meadowgrass. Despite her lingering unease about sleeping in a slaver's vessel, the combination of sounds and gentle movement began to pull her under.

Her dreams were vivid, filled with endless fields of golden grain swaying in warm breezes. She walked through them, her hands trailing through the heavy, seed-laden stalks. The sun felt impossibly warm on her skin, and somewhere in the distance, she could hear rhythmic chanting - harvest songs in languages she didn't recognize but somehow understood on a deeper level.

In her dream, her body felt different - heavier, fuller somehow. The warm sun seemed to penetrate her skin, settling deep in her belly with a pleasant weight. She found herself walking toward a river that cut through the golden fields, its waters dark and rich with silt that nourished the land around it.

She woke suddenly, disoriented by the shift from vivid dreamscape to the enclosed pod. Her bladder made itself known with an insistent pressure - not yet painful, but definitely requiring attention. The chronometer showed she'd been asleep for nearly three hours, longer than she'd expected given the strange environment.

The sounds of the fertile plains continued to play softly. Something about the audio seemed different now, or like there was something else there, a pulsing heartbeat.

Kira sighed and sat up, knowing she wouldn't be able to fall back asleep comfortably without addressing her body's needs. Unlike in her dreams, where she'd felt somehow rooted to the earth, her real body felt restless, sensitive in ways she couldn't quite define.

"Pause program," she murmured, and the sounds faded to silence. The hatch slid open with a soft hiss, and she climbed out, her legs slightly unsteady from sleep and the strange dream sensations that still lingered.

The corridor stretched before her, dimly lit by emergency lighting that activated at her movement. Outside of her pod, the strange musky scent of the ship was noticeable, making her head feel slightly fuzzy as she tried to recall the location of the facilities from the ship's schematics she'd studied earlier. It took her longer than she would have liked to admit to find it, but ten minutes later, she was clambering back into her pod.

Kira hesitated before reactivating the program. Something about those dreams had felt so real, so immersive. It was ridiculous to think the dreams had anything to do with the white noise music, though. And the dreams hadn't been... bad. Nice, in a way. After a moment's consideration, she whispered, "Resume program, reduced volume."

The sounds of the fertile plains returned, softer now, as the hatch sealed her inside. The padding seemed to welcome her back, conforming even more perfectly to her body than before. As she settled in, she could have sworn it felt warmer, like soil that had been baking in the sun all day.

Sleep reclaimed her quickly, dragging her back into dreams of ancient lands. This time, she found herself by the banks of a great river, its waters running clear and silvery, rich with promise. Women with bare bodies and faces she couldn't quite see were performing some ritual, their hands dipping into the silty water, then pulling handfuls of red mud from the bottom, staining their hands, then pressing their palms to their bellies while singing in that strange language that somehow resonated in her bones rather than her ears.

One of them approached her, hands umber to the elbow. For some reason, Kira didn't flinch away. Without speaking, the figure pressed both her hands to Kira's stomach, and she realized with a oddly subdued shock that she was naked too. The hands were warm and powerful against her body, and she leaned into them. The chanting grew louder, more rhythmic, seeming to pulse through her entire being.

She drifted through other dreams, but eventually, she returned to the riverbank. The women were dancing now, dancing in a great circle. This time, their faces were covered by elaborate masks of clay, wood, and stone. The oldest among them came towards Kira, carrying a mask. The mask was of a smiling woman's face, and when she pressed it to Kira's face, Kira discovered it was packed with some kind of fragrant herbs. It filled her lungs with a sweet, warm aroma. The mask's heaviness on her face felt so real that she tried to reach for it, to take it off, but her hands refused to move, and all she could do was stand and breathe, and gaze at the woman in front of her as a heavy, languid warmth settled into her.

She came partially awake, then, still feeling that odd heaviness on her face, and tried to reach for it again, so sleep-fogged she could barely tell if it was dream or waking. Were her hands even moving? Her eyes came open, but it was pitch black. The sense of heaviness left her face as if it had never been there. Why had she thought she couldn't move her hands? They were moving fine, now, and she touched her face, feeling nothing there, and, reassured, sinking back into sleep.

Throughout it all, that rhythmic chanting continued, sometimes fading to background, sometimes rising to overwhelm everything else. Once, she half-woke to adjust her position, the padding instantly reshaping around her. The program was still playing, but now it sounded almost like a lullaby beneath the environmental sounds. Before she could consider this further, sleep pulled her under again.

Morning came with ****, the pod gradually increasing its interior lighting to simulate dawn. Kira blinked awake feeling strangely heavy, as though the gravity had increased overnight. Her limbs felt weighted, and there was an odd warmth in her lower abdomen that wasn't quite discomfort but definitely wasn't normal.

"Program complete," the pod announced cheerfully. "Biorhythm adjustment cycle successful. Would you like to save these settings for future use?"

She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. Despite having slept longer than usual according to the chronometer, she felt tired in a way she couldn't quite define - not the sharp exhaustion of insufficient rest, but something deeper, as if her body had been busy with other work while she slept.

"No," she mumbled, not entirely sure what "biorhythm adjustment" entailed and not wanting to find out. The hatch slid open, letting in the recycled air of the ship's corridor. That musky scent seemed less noticeable now, or perhaps she was simply becoming accustomed to it. She noted absently that her wrists felt a little sore, and when she glanced at them, she felt like she could make out some odd marks on the skin, but if they were there, they were too faint to really be sure of.

As she climbed out of the pod, she felt a momentary dizziness, her hand automatically going to her stomach. For an instant, she could almost feel those fingers, pressed against her abdomen. She shook her head, dismissing the lingering dream imagery. She had a criminal to guard, reports to file, and a ship to figure out - no time for dwelling on strange dreams caused by luxury sleep tech.

Still, as she made her way toward the galley in search of something resembling coffee, she couldn't quite get the memory of those hands on her stomach out of her head.