No True Pair

The Aurora had never experienced the ocean the way a human could. Nor even the way whatever monstrous things her crew were could experience it. Once, she had the power and size to pull the waves to her, but she could not feel its coolness or taste its salt. Cyberia had few oceans, so cold was its climate. Its sun was very far away, and artificial heating could only go so far. Oceans existed, yes, but they were miles beneath thick ice. The most she saw of Cyberian oceans was the icy landing pad she rested on as a warship. 

Ivy Alexandria had experienced the ocean. She could appreciate the contrasting temperatures of cold water and hot sun, legs dangling off a dock while she read, the hem of her skirt just starting to get damp. But she never experienced an ocean the way a moon could, the way the Aurora had. She could rattle off the math of the tides and gravity, but she was small, and oceans were very large. 

The pair did not discuss the ocean. Occasionally, Ivy would ask curious questions about the sensation of being a starship or Aurora would puff steam against her cooling lines, but they did not discuss it. 

But at one point, Ivy sent a beacon from a water-covered planet, and Aurora landed in salty water, steam curling off her hot hull. She banged doors open and closed for the rest of the day, and Ivy had a satisfied smirk behind her book. 

And at another point, the Aurora located a tiny world hidden in the corner of a forgotten galaxy. She shoved Ivy out in a shuttle and left her there for a week. Ivy gravity was enough for the tiny planet’s tiny oceans to respond to her weight, and, when Aurora eventually returned for her, Ivy could not hide her smile as she showed off calculations and notes about being an unnatural moon. 

In their own ways, they experienced the oceans.