Living Stone
The space was small, but it was her own, a place of rest. There was another gentle thud as a mining ship detached from the far side of the complex, slipping with a whisper into the blackness of space.
She spun the lock, and the bulkhead obligingly opened with a creak, allowing her passage out of the main corridor of the Colony.
Ahead is a slightly cramped modular hallway, brought in who knows when, from who knows where. The old metal joins had rusted into place, the hall would likely remain here for hundreds of years to come.
Pictures cover the walls, smiling faces of hundreds of friends and relatives, living and past, tearful and happy reminders of her five hundred years of history. A short distance along the hallway, there is a small side room on the left, a coat room, for entertaining guests, as well as containing a space suit for use in an emergency. Today, her robes are the only ones that hang there, she glances in the mirror at the end of the room with a sigh, her face is young, but her eyes are beyond ancient, fully of wisdom, and emotion.
Leaving the room she goes the rest of the way down the hall, passing a small guest bathroom, before the walls change from industrial metal, to living rock. The walls are smooth, the formerly rough surface smoothed by the passage of thousands of hands, through her five hundred years of history with this place.
There are more pictures on the walls, as well as paintings, mostly done by her, of everything imaginable. The stone is cool on her bare feet, its nice after a long day, wearing her shoes, trodding through the metal halls of the colony. The furnishings are threadbare and mismatched, but look comfortable, they've seen a lot of use, and have aged well, better then her, she surmises.
She passes through into the warm little alcove that is the kitchen and puts water on for tea, setting it to a long low burn that would warm take at least an hour to boil it, the counters and cupboards are all carved out of the stone, with rich wood for facing. The Refrigerator is covered with more pictures, as well as a few notes, and a shopping list. She frowns at it, its been a while since that list was up to date.
She exits the kitchen, and climbs the steep, narrow little staircase, going upstairs.
A small balcony looks down into the living room, it wraps around the room a quarter of the way, and leads her bedroom, where her bed is still unmade. The upper floor is wooden, in exquisite expense, that she slaved over for months all those generations ago, its smooth and slightly warm under her feet.
She walks to her bedroom, passing from wood to soft carpet as she opens the dark wooden door and enters. The bedroom contains the only window, a long curving section of armored crystal, providing a view of beautiful rings of the gas giant the colony orbited, and casting a faint blue light throughout the room. The walls here are so covered with pictures that the dark stone walls can scarcely be seen.
As she feared, the bed is unmade, and there are a few sets of discarded clothes on the floor. She glances about at the slight mess with a tired sigh before fishing her bathrobe from the hook behind the door and padding back to the bathroom.
The bathroom is large, with a large bath, and a standing shower and the bathroom sections are separated by walls of glass bricks. The shower is carved smoothly out of the rock, she turns it on, and water cascades out of the roof of the stone like a summer storm, pouring off and down small carefully placed catches and protrusions in pleasing little waterfalls, babbling lyrically.
She slips out of her clothes while she waits for the water to heat fully, and looks at herself critically. She's not a vain women, and she would normally not care too deeply for her appearance one way or another. But this body was different. Unlike anything that she had experienced in her 600 year long existence, seven rebirths, seven lives, but this... She eyed the line of plugs running down her spine critically.
This was when everything changed.