The Things We Repair
Copyright© 2026 by Flubu
Chapter 26: The Shape of Care
Daniel woke because he was trying to sit up.
He did not remember deciding to move.
One moment he was asleep beneath the low medical lights, with Neris warm along his right side and her tail spread carefully across his lower legs.
The next, his shoulders had lifted from the berth and pain drove through his ribs, pelvis and left thigh with enough force to erase the room.
His breath stopped.
The berth moved beneath him.
Support panels rose along his sides and locked his body into place before he could fall or twist.
Daniel stared at the ceiling.
For several seconds, all he could hear was the alarm in his own pulse.
Neris woke at once.
Her head lifted from his shoulder, ears sharp and eyes wide.
“What happened?”
“He attempted to leave the berth,” ER said.
“I tried to sit up.”
“The distinction is medically irrelevant.”
Daniel drew a shallow breath.
Even that hurt.
Neris placed one paw against the side of his neck and the other over his chest, avoiding the injured ribs.
“You cannot move without assistance.”
“I noticed.”
Her gaze moved over the medical display.
His blood pressure had risen with the pain. The nanite activity around the pelvic fractures had increased.
“Did you damage the repairs?”
“No significant displacement detected,” ER said. “The berth prevented the motion from progressing.”
Daniel tested the restraint with one arm.
The side support did not move.
“You locked the bed?”
“You attempted to stand with a fractured pelvis.”
“I tried to sit.”
“You began by lifting your shoulders and attempting to move your left leg over the edge.”
“That sounds like sitting.”
“That sounds like the initial stage of falling.”
Daniel looked toward the nearest speaker.
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“Yes,” ER said. “I locked the bed.”
Neris’s tail tightened lightly across Daniel’s legs.
He looked at her.
She did not appear amused.
Her fur remained flattened on one side from sleep. The dark shirt she had worn through the night was creased, and there was a faint mark beneath one eye where her face had rested against the berth support.
She had not left him.
Daniel let his head settle back.
“What time is it?”
“Six forty-one,” ER said.
“The cattle.”
“Remain cattle.”
“They need feeding.”
Neris kept her paw at his neck.
“I will feed them.”
Daniel looked at her.
“The auger’s down.”
“I know.”
“The mixer wagon needs the supplement loaded manually.”
“I know.”
“The west waterer was running cold yesterday.”
“I know.”
“The heifers—”
“Daniel.”
He stopped.
Neris’s gaze did not leave his face.
“I have been doing these tasks with you for weeks.”
“With me.”
“Yes.”
“That’s different.”
“Because you are not watching?”
“Because I’m not there.”
Neris’s ears shifted.
“You will be watching through the tractor camera, the yard camera and the communicator on my coat.”
“Those don’t show everything.”
“They show more than you normally allow ER to observe.”
“That’s because he criticizes my bucket angle.”
“Your bucket angle is frequently inefficient,” ER said.
Daniel looked toward the ceiling.
“You’re both going?”
“I am incapable of remaining behind,” ER said.
“You know what I mean.”
Neris’s paw moved from Daniel’s neck to his cheek.
“I will do the morning work. You will remain here and tell me everything I am apparently incapable of remembering.”
“I didn’t say incapable.”
“You were preparing a list.”
“There are details.”
“There are always details.”
“That’s farming.”
“And I have been paying attention.”
Daniel looked at her.
She was frightened.
Not in the way she had been during the accident, when fear had sharpened her into motion.
This was quieter.
It sat behind her eyes and in the tightness of her tail.
Leaving him alone aboard Takuhai for an hour felt dangerous to her even with ER monitoring every heartbeat.
Daniel lifted his right hand.
Neris took it immediately.
“I’ll stay in the bed.”
“The berth.”
“The locked bed.”
“Yes.”
“I won’t try to get up.”
“You already did.”
“I won’t try again.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“That promise has a limited history.”
“I’m injured, not unreasonable.”
ER said, “Current evidence does not support the second claim.”
Daniel ignored him.
“What’s my status?”
The medical display opened above them.
Blood pressure stable.
Oxygen acceptable.
Internal bleeding controlled.
Lung repair progressing.
Pelvic support active.
Rib stabilization active.
Nanite integration expanding.
The last line had not been there the previous night.
Daniel read it.
“Integration.”
Neris’s fingers tightened around his.
ER answered.
“The nanites have moved beyond temporary vascular and tissue repair. They are establishing longer-term interfaces with your immune system, bone marrow, peripheral nerves and metabolic regulation.”
Daniel looked down at his own chest.
He could feel nothing moving inside him.
No metallic current.
No foreign machinery.
Only pain, exhaustion and the uneven pull of each breath.
“Can you stop them?”
“Not safely at present.”
“Later?”
“Unknown.”
Neris looked toward the display.
“We will discuss that after the cattle are fed.”
Daniel understood the decision in her tone.
Not avoidance.
Prioritization.
He nodded.
“Fine.”
Neris began to move away.
Daniel held on to her paw.
She looked back.
“Come here first.”
She leaned close.
Daniel put one arm around her as far as the berth supports allowed.
Neris settled against his uninjured side, careful of the monitors and the healing ribs. Her muzzle rested beneath his jaw.
Daniel closed his eyes.
Her scent carried the faint citrus-and-dark-chocolate trace of saleth beneath the sterile air of the medical bay.
“You’ll be back soon,” he said.
“Yes.”
“That was for you.”
“I know.”
Her tail curled once over his ankles.
Then she stood.
ER released one side of the berth long enough for her to climb down.
Before leaving, Neris checked the nanite display twice, Daniel’s oxygen three times and the position of the water cup beside him.
Daniel watched her put on her jacket.
“You’ve forgotten something.”
She stopped.
“What?”
“Breakfast.”
“I am not hungry.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Neris stared at him.
Daniel looked toward the service hatch.
“ER.”
A manipulator emerged carrying a sealed nutrition bar from Takuhai’s stores.
Neris took it without enthusiasm.
“You have become a poor influence.”
“I’m injured. I get authority.”
“No.”
“Temporary authority.”
“No.”
“Emotional leverage?”
Her ears lowered.
“That was unfair.”
“Yeah.”
Daniel softened his voice.
“Eat it in the tractor.”
Neris put the bar into her pocket.
“I will return before you become intolerable.”
“You’re already late.”
She touched her muzzle to his forehead.
Then she left.
The medical bay hatch closed behind her.
The room became too quiet.
ER maintained the overhead display.
Daniel looked at it for several minutes.
His body had survived.
That fact did not yet feel attached to him.
“Show me the yard feed,” he said.
The main display changed.
Neris emerged from the concealed path between the trees and crossed the snow toward the tractor shed. Morning light had only begun to reach the tops of the spruce.
She moved quickly.
Too quickly, Daniel thought.
Her shoulder looked better, but she still favoured it slightly when pulling open the shed door.
“She’s lifting with the wrong arm.”
“She has not lifted anything,” ER said.
“She’s about to.”
“Neris is aware of her injury.”
“She forgets when she’s worried.”
“You also forget injuries when worried.”
“Mine are more recent.”
“That does not improve the argument.”
Neris climbed into the tractor.
Daniel switched to the cab camera.
She fastened the communicator to the dashboard, started the engine and pulled on her gloves.
“Can you hear me?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“You sound tired.”
“I got hit by an auger.”
“The drive housing struck you.”
“Good correction.”
“You insist on technical accuracy when discussing machinery.”
“Not usually while lying down.”
Neris shifted the tractor into gear.
“Tell me the alternate feeding procedure.”
Daniel had already prepared it in his head.
“The grain bin has a gravity clean-out gate at the bottom, west side. Use the blue bulk tote, not the white one. The white one has a crack near the lower seam.”
“I remember.”
“Fill the blue tote halfway.”
“Why halfway?”
“The loader gets light in the back if you fill it all the way.”
“I can attach the counterweight.”
“That’ll take longer. Half a tote is enough for one mix.”
“The cattle require two mixes.”
“Make two trips.”
Neris’s ears angled toward the communicator.
“I had inferred that.”
Daniel smiled despite the ache it caused.
“The tote lid sticks.”
“I remember.”
“Don’t stand in front of the clean-out gate when you open it.”
“I remember.”
“Grain can bridge inside the chute. If it doesn’t flow, don’t reach in.”
“I remember.”
“Neris.”
She stopped the tractor beside the storage bin.
“Yes?”
“Be careful.”
Her expression changed.
“I will.”
She climbed down.
The blue bulk tote rested beneath the shed overhang. Neris used the tractor forks to move it into position under the gravity gate.
The bin stood silent without the auger.
She released the outer latch.
Nothing happened.
Daniel watched through the camera.
“Tap the side of the chute.”
“With what?”
“Rubber mallet hanging on the post.”
Neris found it.
One strike produced no result.
The second loosened a rush of grain supplement that struck the bottom of the tote with a heavy rattling roar.
Neris stepped back well before the flow began.
Daniel released a breath.
“I was not standing in front of it,” she said.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You changed your breathing.”
ER said, “Daniel’s respiratory rate increased by fourteen percent.”
“Traitor.”
“I am providing medical monitoring.”
Neris shut the gate when the tote reached half capacity.
She secured the lid.
The old front loader lifted it easily.
Daniel guided her toward the mixer wagon.
“Keep the forks lower.”
“They are clear of the snow.”
“Lower.”
“Why?”
“Visibility.”
“I can see.”
“Lower, Neris.”
She lowered them by several centimetres.
ER overlaid the bucket-angle reading.
“The change improved forward visibility by less than one point eight percent.”
Daniel glared at the display.
“Why are you measuring that?”
“Neris requested evidence.”
“When?”
“Before leaving the ship.”
Neris’s tail moved behind the tractor seat.
Daniel could see it in the lower corner of the cab camera.
She was amused.
The portable tote emptied into the mixer wagon through its top hatch. Neris added haylage and mineral according to Daniel’s instructions, then repeated the process for the second load.
It was slower than using the auger.
Messier.
Functional.
Daniel watched every movement.
When Neris drove toward the cattle yard, he switched between cameras fast enough that the displays blurred.
“You are increasing your heart rate unnecessarily,” ER said.
“I’m watching.”
“Neris has operated the tractor successfully on twenty-seven prior occasions.”
“Not alone.”
“She is not alone.”
Daniel looked toward the speaker.
“No.”
He settled back.
“She isn’t.”
The cattle gathered at the feed line before Neris reached it.
Mabel stood apart near the solid gate panel.
Daniel expected the familiar strike.
It did not come.
Neris distributed the first load evenly along the bunk.
She stopped twice to correct the mixer speed without Daniel prompting her.
The second load followed.
No feed spilled.
Her bucket angle remained acceptable.
Daniel did not mention it.
When the others moved toward the feed, Mabel stayed beside the gate.
She watched the tractor cab.
Neris shut down the engine and climbed out.
“What’s she doing?” Daniel asked.
“Waiting,” ER said.
“For what?”
Neither answered.
Neris approached the gate.
Mabel extended her nose between the rails and sniffed the air around her. Then she moved her head toward the empty passenger side of the tractor.
Neris looked at the cab.
Daniel watched her understand.
“He is alive,” she told the cow.
Mabel’s ears turned toward her.
“He is injured. He cannot come outside today.”
The cow breathed heavily against the gate.
Neris placed one paw against the broad space between her eyes.
“He will return.”
Mabel leaned forward.
The gate shifted beneath her weight.
Neris scratched through the thick winter hair on her forehead.
Daniel watched from the medical berth.
His throat tightened in a way that had nothing to do with the damaged lung.
“She doesn’t understand,” he said.
“Not the words,” ER replied.
Neris remained with Mabel until the cow turned toward the feed bunk.
She checked the west waterer next.
The intake had begun icing around one edge. Neris cleared it with the insulated tool Daniel kept beside the post, then checked the heating element and flow.
A yearling heifer approached with a slight hitch in her right hind leg.
Neris saw it before Daniel did.
“ER, record gait.”
The camera tracked the animal.
Daniel leaned toward the display and immediately regretted the movement.
Pain crossed his ribs.
“Easy,” ER said.
“Show it again.”
The footage replayed.
The heifer placed less weight on the right hind foot but showed no obvious swelling above the hoof.
“Probably packed snow or a stone,” Daniel said. “Get her into the handling lane after feeding.”
Neris looked toward the animal.
“Can it wait until you are mobile?”
“Could. Shouldn’t.”
“I can examine the hoof.”
“You can’t run the chute alone.”
“I can if the animal enters voluntarily.”
Daniel almost objected.
Then he stopped.
Neris had handled the cattle with him for weeks. She understood the gate system. The heifer was calm.
“Use the small sorting pen,” he said. “Don’t close yourself in with her.”
“I know.”
The heifer followed a small bucket of feed into the pen.
Neris secured the outer gate, kept herself outside the animal’s turning radius and lifted the foot only after the heifer had settled.
A compacted ball of ice and manure had lodged between the claws of the hoof.
Neris removed it.
The heifer placed the foot normally almost at once.
“Good,” Daniel said.
Neris looked toward the camera.
“You sound surprised.”
“I’m relieved.”
“That is different.”
“Yeah.”
She released the heifer.
As Neris drove away from the cattle yard, Mabel returned to the solid panel.
Clang.
ER said, “One.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Good.”
Neris was back aboard Takuhai before eight thirty.
She entered the medical bay carrying a thermos, two containers of food and Daniel’s phone.
The nutrition bar wrapper protruded from her coat pocket.
Empty.
Daniel noticed.
He did not comment.
Neris set the thermos beside the berth and studied the medical display.
“Any changes?”
“Daniel attempted to adjust his position twice,” ER said.
“I moved my arm.”
“The second movement involved your torso.”
“My back itched.”
Neris removed her coat.
“You could have asked ER for assistance.”
“I did.”
ER said, “Daniel rejected the manipulator after describing it as ‘creepy.’”
“It came at me from behind.”
“It was applying a sterile pad to an inaccessible location.”
“It had three fingers.”
“All available manipulators have three primary contact points.”
Neris leaned over Daniel and examined the skin near his shoulder.
“Does it still itch?”
“No.”
She knew he was lying.
Her paw slipped behind him with careful pressure and scratched lightly through the fabric of his shirt.
Daniel exhaled.
“Better?”
“Yes.”
“You are difficult.”
“I got the cattle fed.”
“You watched the cattle being fed.”
“Same household result.”
Neris poured coffee into the thermos lid.
Daniel reached for it.
She moved it out of range.
“Water first.”
“I’ve had water.”
“Seventy-eight millilitres since I left,” ER said.
Daniel looked toward the ceiling.
“You two have become unbearable.”
Neris held the water cup to him.
He drank.
Only then did she allow the coffee.
It was warm rather than hot and weaker than Daniel preferred.
He drank it anyway.
After breakfast, ER released the upper berth support and raised Daniel slowly.
The first five degrees were tolerable.
At ten, the muscles around his ribs tightened.
At fifteen, pressure shifted through the stabilized pelvis.
Daniel’s hand closed around the side rail.
Neris stood beside him with one arm behind his shoulders and her tail braced along his uninjured hip.
“Stop,” she said.
“I’m fine.”
ER halted the berth.
“Your blood pressure is falling.”
“Keep going.”
“No,” Neris said.
“It’ll settle.”
“Your body is not a tractor engine.”
“Those settle too.”
“Daniel.”
He opened his eyes.
He had not realized they were closed.
The room tilted.
Nausea rose quickly.
Neris held a container beneath his mouth before he could object.
He did not vomit.
The possibility was humiliating enough.
His skin felt cold.
“Lower him,” Neris said.
ER reduced the angle by five degrees.
Daniel breathed slowly.
The dizziness eased.
Neris kept her arm behind him.
Her tail maintained steady pressure along his side.
They waited.
“Again,” Daniel said.
Neris looked at the readings.
“Not yet.”
“I need to sit up.”
“You need to heal.”
“Both.”
ER said, “Controlled elevation is medically useful. Excessive speed is not.”
Daniel looked toward the speaker.
“So we keep going.”
“At two-degree intervals.”
“That’ll take all day.”
“You have no competing appointments,” ER said.
Neris’s tail moved against Daniel’s hip.
He knew she was trying not to smile.
The berth rose two degrees.
They waited.
Another two.
By the time Daniel reached thirty-five degrees, sweat had gathered along his hairline.
His breathing remained shallow but stable.
Neris adjusted the support beneath his shoulder.
Daniel looked down at himself.
He was sitting.
Barely.
He felt as though he had dragged a loaded feed wagon uphill.
“That’s pathetic,” he said.
Neris became still.
Daniel regretted the words before she answered.
“Your body is repairing injuries that should have killed you.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“You could argue.”
“You are allowed to hate this.”
The simple permission undid something inside him.
Daniel looked away.
The medical bay blurred for a different reason.
Neris did not pretend not to notice.
She sat on the edge of the berth and placed her paw over his hand.
They remained there until his breathing settled.
ER waited in silence.
Later, Daniel asked to see the accident.
Neris said no.
Not immediately.
Her answer came too quickly and too sharply.
Daniel looked at the main display.
“ER has the footage.”
“Yes.”
“I need to see it.”
“You were there.”
“I don’t remember the failure.”
“That is not a loss.”
“It is when I need to know what I missed.”
Neris’s ears lowered.
“You did not miss anything.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I was watching.”
“You were at the hopper.”
“ER was watching.”
“Through a chest camera.”
Daniel looked toward the display.
“Show me.”
ER did not obey at once.
“Review may cause distress.”
“Probably.”
“It is unlikely to improve your recovery.”
“That’s not why I’m asking.”
Neris stood beside the berth.
Daniel met her eyes.
“If I did something wrong, I need to know.”
“And if you did not?”
“Then I need to know that too.”
The recording opened.
Daniel watched himself enter the feed shed.
Lock the disconnect.
Test the stop.
Inspect the bearing.
Move the shaft by hand.
Replace the bracket.
Align the chute.
Run the system empty.
Stop it.
Run it again.
Restore the feed load.
Everything appeared ordinary.
Then the sound changed.
Daniel saw his recorded self turn.
Saw the first movement in the housing.
“Pause,” Neris said.
ER did not.
Daniel watched himself reach for the emergency stop.
The housing twisted.
The impact happened too quickly for the camera to resolve clearly.
Neris’s body struck the floor at the edge of the frame.
The image froze.
Daniel stared.
“Again,” he said.
“No,” Neris replied.
“ER.”
“I have already completed mechanical analysis.”
Daniel looked away from the frozen image.
“Then show me that.”
The footage changed to a reconstruction of the auger tube.
The hidden weld lay beyond the visible inspection area, inside the enclosed section of the shaft.
A hairline fracture had propagated through older metal fatigue. Under the second loaded cycle, the weld separated.
The shaft shifted.
The rotating flight struck the tube.
Torque transferred to the drive housing.
The outer mount failed.
Elapsed time from first audible irregularity to impact:
One point two seconds.
Daniel read the number.
“I heard it.”
“Yes,” ER said.
“I moved.”
“Yes.”
“Not fast enough.”
“The emergency stop could not have halted the shaft before structural failure.”
Daniel watched the simulation repeat.
“Could I have inspected the weld?”
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