Hers were Peacekeeper issue, designed to last the length of a battle campaign. They were never
meant to be used and reused for more than half a cycle. One day they simply disintegrated into
their component fibers.
She requisitioned a new pair from a heap of what she assumed were discards that she found
tossed into a corner of the amnexus chamber one morning. They were flimsy, uncomfortably
loose, and the wrong color, but it was better than going without.
It was not until several days later that she ran into a territorial dispute over the item.
“That’s my underwear!”
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