"That's true enough. Doesn't stop us from trying, though?" Taura said, her voice a low, contemplative rumble.

The man -- Yue -- still looked singularly abstracted. It wasn't a rebuke for her hands-on solution, or confusion over the mention of technology she wasn't sure they had here. Could be simpler. Depression was an easy trap; giving up had all the mass on its side.

"Guess I wouldn't even know what he looked like. Wouldn't that be funny." Funny wasn't the right word. Funny wasn't even in the right star system. But there wasn't anything to do but make light of it, other than give up. And she'd already turned down that option. "I could walk right past him on the street and as long as he kept quiet, I'd never know." Or put on a fresh body like we put on clothes, and no-one would know.. It wasn't much more difficult than new vocal cords, if you didn't have any ethics beyond self-preservation.

She'd just keep that particular nightmare to herself. Transplant technology made lousy breakfast conversation. Or lousy anytime conversation.