All the Stars in the Sky [Chapter 6]
Title: Measure of a Man
Originally Published: July 25, 2006
Pairing: Fred/Gene
Genre: Romance
Rating: PG-13
Words: 2,452
Summary: Fred and Gene. It'd take a miracle, and a very persistent one at that. All the stars in the sky would fall first, right? You'd better get ready for the meteor shower.
Disclaimer: Outlaw Star characters, settings, plot devices, and references do not belong to me.
Warnings: Definitely some language, and plenty of sexual tension.
A/N: Still in rich text... I guess I was going through a phase.
KHz
Sound - what humans perceive to be sound - is nothing more than vibrations traveling through the atmosphere. Vibrations that pound themselves out for our auditory enjoyment or suffering, using the natural drum in the inner ear. A drum, perhaps the most primal instrument known to man, perhaps built into our bodies to help keep the world - as we perceive it - in time with our natural beat.
------
“Dammit, Jim, I wanted to get back up in space sometime before I turn grey.”
“We can’t fly the ship out of here until we pass the dock inspection, Aniki. I think you should know that after all this time…”
“But we’ve been doing repairs all week! We’ve been spending more time in port than in space for the last month, and it’s driving me insane! What the hell’s the holdup with this tin can, anyway?
“I resent that remark. I’ll have you know I am built of only the finest quality-”
“Can it, Gilliam, or I’ll dump you in the scrap yard. Well, Jim?”
The snarky boy genius let out a long-suffering sigh. “That’s just it - I haven’t been able to figure out what’s wrong yet.”
“…Huh? What the hell, why not? You’ve got Mel and Gilliam here to check every corner of this ship, inside and out!”
“I know, but something’s interfering with Gilliam’s scanners, and Mel only controls the navigation system. I’ve tried everything, Aniki, but the only option we’ve got left is to go in manually and dig through Gilliam’s programming.”
Gene blinked, then gazed up at the gleaming red hull of the ship towering above it all. “Gilliam’s programming, huh?”
“Oh no, I don’t like that look he’s giving me,” one of the Gilliam bots fretted, its thin metal arms coming up and clinking against its face in robotic horror.
“Hey, I’ve been computerized before,” Gene said, eyes gleaming ominously. “Actually, I’ve been thinking I’d like to do it again.”
“Jim, don’t let him get into my programming!” Gilliam pleaded, hurrying to the boy’s side.
“Should you be saying something like that about your captain?” Gene glared.
“I don’t think we need to make it that complicated, Aniki,” Jim said flatly. “We don’t need you to put your mind into the computer’s mainframe just to find out what’s blocking the scanners.”
“Tch. You’re no fun, as usual,” Gene grumbled, crossing his arms and all but pouting. “Fine, what do you need to do then?”
“Just one thing,” Jim replied, suddenly beaming. He bent down to rummage through the large box of tools and repair equipment that rested beside him, tossing out the ones in his way as he went. When he finally resurfaced with a triumphant “Ha!” it was with a somewhat dusty and crude black box.
“…What is it?” Gene had to ask after staring at the object blankly for a moment.
“This,” Jim gestured proudly at the box, “is a genuine twenty-first century audio signal processor. Specifically this model’s from the turn of the century, just after the year 2000, from what I gather. I restored it myself! Can you believe someone was stupid enough to throw something like this away? I was really lucky to- HEY!”
Gene interrupted Jim’s rambling, which he had long since tuned out, by swiping the box out of the boy’s hands and proceeding to give it a rough shake.
“ANIKI! Don’t do that, you’ll break it! Give it back!” Jim yelled, snatching his precious antique back from the nosy redhead.
Gene relented with an exasperated sigh. “I don’t understand your interest in these old fossils. Things like Caster shells I get, and even those old cars you endlessly lust after, ‘cause at least those are useful. What the hell can that piece of ancient history possibly do that Gilliam and Melfina can’t?”
Jim patted the machine delicately, almost as though he were reassuring it. “It’s not a concept all that different from the Caster shells, you know. They’ve both got an old magic to them.”
“…There is no way that giant doorstop is capable of containing and releasing magic.”
Jim only rolled his eyes. “Not everything you hear has to be taken literally, honestly. I mean there’s just something the technology from the past has that the current stuff can’t touch. Back then, most machines were built with just one main function in mind, not like how everything can do just about everything these days. You would have a job to do, and you could say ‘This is the machine for the job, and nothing else will do.’”
Jim’s eyes had softened as he spoke, and Gene watched him owlishly. “It’s the simplicity, Aniki. They had one purpose, and they served that one purpose until they broke down smoking. It just seems…purer to me, somehow.”
Gene was at a loss as to how to respond to the boy’s speech. Jim wasn’t the kind of person to offer up his deeper feelings on a subject so easily, and the unusual behavior tightened the nerves under his skin as he watched the blond boy tinker with the knobs on the processor.
Finally he coughed lightly into his hand, clearing his throat. “So uh…what does it do, anyway? That audio thing.”
“It measures kilohertz - sound wavelengths. You can set this model to measure anywhere between zero and ten thousand kilohertz per second, which is good because whatever’s messing up Gilliam’s scanners has to be working under low frequencies.”
“My program is more than capable of detecting frequencies far lower than any human or archaic machinery can pick up,” Gilliam said, sounding as petulant as a programmed personality possibly can.
“Not when they’re actually interfering with the sensors that detect them,” Jim said flatly, switching the machine on with a loud click!
It didn’t make any sound at first; the blank screen slowly came alive with a green light grid, displaying a motionless and likewise bright green but much thicker line.
“…Is it on?” Gene asked.
“Of course it’s on,” Jim said testily. “I have to get it into position before I can get it going-”
“What’s with talk of positions this early in the morning? Really, Gene, if you aren’t careful you’ll corrupt the boy.”
The two preoccupied crew members fell silent and looked up as one to see Fred Luo, paused a distance away from them and looking oddly tired. But almost before Gene had time to take in the exhaustion rimming Fred’s eyes, the merchant’s usual smile crawled back into place, chasing away the ghosts of fatigue and forcing his comment to finally sink in.
“Hey! I am not corrupt. You’re the one always molesting people anyway, I don’t need to hear that from you,” Gene grumbled.
Fred hummed amusedly and turned to a flustered Jim, giving him a pat on the arm. “Careful what you let this man teach you, James, or you might just turn out like he did.”
Jim scoffed. “I’m not that stupid,” he said, turning away from the both of them and going back to fiddling with the settings on the processor.
“And now you two are ganging up on me,” Gene whined, missing the quick secret glance shared by the boy genius and the smitten merchant. “What are you doing here, Fred? If you just wanted to make fun of me you could’ve done that over the phone like usual. And what, no goons with you today?”
“They’re in the car,” Fred replied, gesturing over his shoulder. Gene followed the man’s finger and recoiled at the twin gazes directed his way, which, though they were covered by sunglasses, still managed to burn holes wherever they aimed.
“Yeesh,” Gene almost shivered. “Is it me, or do they seem especially pissed off today?”
“They’re just worried.” Fred turned around and offered the two in the car a reassuring smile, which seemed to placate them somewhat. “And I came to oversee one of your deliveries.”
Gene blinked. “Deliveries? But they came yesterday. And no one’s complained that we were missing anything, even if they do complain about everything else…”
The dark haired man in front of him got a curious look on his face then; Gene thought it might be a cross between hesitant and scheming, if such a combination were possible.
“Hey, I got it working!” Jim’s sudden cry interrupted them. “It took a while to get it to work, but the low frequency setting is still kicking!”
“That’s great, Jim,” Gene said, suddenly glad for the distraction. “So how long till we know what’s wrong with Gilliam?”
“There isn’t anything wrong with me at all, thank you,” Gilliam said snippily. “The problem is whatever happens to be interfering with my unparalleled and superbly advanced programming.”
“When did you get such a big ego?” Gene glared at the wide-eyed robot near Jim’s feet. “And stop listening in other people’s conversations!”
“Like captain like starship; and will both of you keep quiet? You’re throwing off my readings!” Jim huffed, hovering over his precious machinery. He discreetly pulled his ever-present goggles down over his eyes - not because the job posed any danger to them, but because he knew what was coming, and that his eyes would give that fact away to the unsuspecting redhead.
Gene huffed and crossed his arms across his chest, but remained quiet nonetheless. For a while.
“…What delivery?” he murmured to Fred, glancing at him out of the corner of one suspicious eye.
“Hm? Oh,” Fred replied, taking his curious gaze off of Jim’s handiwork to look back at Gene. He stared at the object of his affection for a moment; just before Gene could begin to fidget under the look, Fred flashed him a spectacular smile and said simply: “Me.”
Unnoticed by all involved, Jim suddenly fumbled with the machine and began working at an almost frantic pace, as Gene eloquently voiced his confusion:
“…Huh?”
“Me!” Fred repeated, moving forward to slip an arm around Gene’s broad shoulders. “I came to deliver myself to you, Gene.” He breathed the man’s name into his ear, which slowly began to redden.
“What are you talking about?” Gene said gruffly, trying to wriggle out of Fred’s grip.
Fred gave a sigh and pulled Gene impossibly flush against his side. “You see, Gene, it’s like this. You are one of my largest investments - your ship is one of my largest investments.” He unconsciously began rubbing his ear as he continued, the usual nervous habit. “I don’t know of its origins, but I can tell it’s something unlike anything else in the galaxy. The fact that it’s a grappler ship only bumps you higher up that list of mine.”
“What are you getting at?” Gene asked, brows lowered in suspicion. As he gave another half-hearted shove at the merchant’s stubborn arm, Jim suddenly stumbled over one of the bulkier objects he had thrown out of the toolbox in his search for the audio signal processor. His arms waved wildly about in his simultaneous attempt to keep his balance and to protect his precious machine - and the battle with gravity suddenly came to a crashing end as the processor, aimed in Gene’s direction, picked up an interesting wavelength.
“Please take more care with yourself, James,” Fred admonished.
“R-right,” Jim said, quickly righting himself and patting off the fine white dust that covered the ground of the spaceship parking lot. “I mean, yeah, don’t worry about me!” He offered an embarrassed grin until the two men took their attention away from him once again, then quietly set about tracking this new wavelength.
“So?” Gene said to Fred. “What are you getting at with all this ‘investment’ talk?”
“Well, simply put…” Fred began, lifting a forefinger to illustrate his serious point, “You are a liability and an insurance nightmare. I am not one to entrust my money to other people, so in lieu of sending an agent along with you to keep you in check, I have taken it upon myself to stop you from pulling any gratuitously reckless stunts that will up my insurance rates.”
“I…hey! I’m not any more reckless than the goons that decide to battle with me! And you know I’m good for the money! Why else would you, of all people, keep letting me come back to add to all my debts?”
“Hmm, I wonder…” Fred gently brushed the tips of his fingers underneath Gene’s smooth chin, daring the ship captain to break eye contact.
“I knew it,” Jim whispered to himself, staring at the simple graph displayed on the processor. The steadily increasing number of peaks hardly seemed to surprise the young boy.
“Knew what, Jim?” the affronted Gilliam bot from earlier said from over the boy’s shoulder, nearly startling him out of his goggles.
“Shh! Keep your voice down, Gilliam!” Jim hissed, glancing up quickly to be sure the others hadn’t heard. Once satisfied, he breathed a sigh of relief. “You mean you don’t know what’s going on? Really, there’s a lot that you miss being stuck on board all the time.”
“Gene won’t let me come outside.”
“And for good reason,” Jim muttered sardonically.
“So what is it that I seem to be missing? Does it have anything to do with whatever is interfering with my scanners?”
“…What? No! This has nothing to do with your scanners. Did you always have such a one-track mind? Uh, program?”
“Actually my program allows me to focus on upwards of one thousand simultaneous tasks at any given time, should the need arise.”
“That’s great, Gilliam, really. But again, you’re getting way off the point.”
“Well if you aren’t working on my scanners, what are you doing with that audio signal processor?”
“Well, why don’t you take a look?”
The little Gilliam bot maneuvered itself to get a clearer view of the graphed screen. “It appears to be a steady wavelength - but its speed is continuously increasing.”
“Exactly,” Jim said, smirking. Suddenly the speed of the wavelength jumped to almost double what it had been; the blond boy looked up at the scene before him, and nearly laughed out loud.
Fred had managed to tease Gene into a corner made by stacks of delivery crates, and was now trapped between the merchant’s body and cold, industrial steel. Jim couldn’t hear what Fred was whispering into the ear of his redheaded friend, but if the sound pattern being graphed on the small screen was any indication, it had to be good.
“What is it measuring, exactly?” Gilliam asked, looking from the two men to the audio processor.
In the distance, Fred brushed his lips almost imperceptibly against the tip of Gene’s thoroughly red ear.
“Aniki’s heartbeat,” was all Jim had the breath to reply.
-End-
Originally Published: July 25, 2006
Pairing: Fred/Gene
Genre: Romance
Rating: PG-13
Words: 2,452
Summary: Fred and Gene. It'd take a miracle, and a very persistent one at that. All the stars in the sky would fall first, right? You'd better get ready for the meteor shower.
Disclaimer: Outlaw Star characters, settings, plot devices, and references do not belong to me.
Warnings: Definitely some language, and plenty of sexual tension.
A/N: Still in rich text... I guess I was going through a phase.
KHz
Sound - what humans perceive to be sound - is nothing more than vibrations traveling through the atmosphere. Vibrations that pound themselves out for our auditory enjoyment or suffering, using the natural drum in the inner ear. A drum, perhaps the most primal instrument known to man, perhaps built into our bodies to help keep the world - as we perceive it - in time with our natural beat.
------
“Dammit, Jim, I wanted to get back up in space sometime before I turn grey.”
“We can’t fly the ship out of here until we pass the dock inspection, Aniki. I think you should know that after all this time…”
“But we’ve been doing repairs all week! We’ve been spending more time in port than in space for the last month, and it’s driving me insane! What the hell’s the holdup with this tin can, anyway?
“I resent that remark. I’ll have you know I am built of only the finest quality-”
“Can it, Gilliam, or I’ll dump you in the scrap yard. Well, Jim?”
The snarky boy genius let out a long-suffering sigh. “That’s just it - I haven’t been able to figure out what’s wrong yet.”
“…Huh? What the hell, why not? You’ve got Mel and Gilliam here to check every corner of this ship, inside and out!”
“I know, but something’s interfering with Gilliam’s scanners, and Mel only controls the navigation system. I’ve tried everything, Aniki, but the only option we’ve got left is to go in manually and dig through Gilliam’s programming.”
Gene blinked, then gazed up at the gleaming red hull of the ship towering above it all. “Gilliam’s programming, huh?”
“Oh no, I don’t like that look he’s giving me,” one of the Gilliam bots fretted, its thin metal arms coming up and clinking against its face in robotic horror.
“Hey, I’ve been computerized before,” Gene said, eyes gleaming ominously. “Actually, I’ve been thinking I’d like to do it again.”
“Jim, don’t let him get into my programming!” Gilliam pleaded, hurrying to the boy’s side.
“Should you be saying something like that about your captain?” Gene glared.
“I don’t think we need to make it that complicated, Aniki,” Jim said flatly. “We don’t need you to put your mind into the computer’s mainframe just to find out what’s blocking the scanners.”
“Tch. You’re no fun, as usual,” Gene grumbled, crossing his arms and all but pouting. “Fine, what do you need to do then?”
“Just one thing,” Jim replied, suddenly beaming. He bent down to rummage through the large box of tools and repair equipment that rested beside him, tossing out the ones in his way as he went. When he finally resurfaced with a triumphant “Ha!” it was with a somewhat dusty and crude black box.
“…What is it?” Gene had to ask after staring at the object blankly for a moment.
“This,” Jim gestured proudly at the box, “is a genuine twenty-first century audio signal processor. Specifically this model’s from the turn of the century, just after the year 2000, from what I gather. I restored it myself! Can you believe someone was stupid enough to throw something like this away? I was really lucky to- HEY!”
Gene interrupted Jim’s rambling, which he had long since tuned out, by swiping the box out of the boy’s hands and proceeding to give it a rough shake.
“ANIKI! Don’t do that, you’ll break it! Give it back!” Jim yelled, snatching his precious antique back from the nosy redhead.
Gene relented with an exasperated sigh. “I don’t understand your interest in these old fossils. Things like Caster shells I get, and even those old cars you endlessly lust after, ‘cause at least those are useful. What the hell can that piece of ancient history possibly do that Gilliam and Melfina can’t?”
Jim patted the machine delicately, almost as though he were reassuring it. “It’s not a concept all that different from the Caster shells, you know. They’ve both got an old magic to them.”
“…There is no way that giant doorstop is capable of containing and releasing magic.”
Jim only rolled his eyes. “Not everything you hear has to be taken literally, honestly. I mean there’s just something the technology from the past has that the current stuff can’t touch. Back then, most machines were built with just one main function in mind, not like how everything can do just about everything these days. You would have a job to do, and you could say ‘This is the machine for the job, and nothing else will do.’”
Jim’s eyes had softened as he spoke, and Gene watched him owlishly. “It’s the simplicity, Aniki. They had one purpose, and they served that one purpose until they broke down smoking. It just seems…purer to me, somehow.”
Gene was at a loss as to how to respond to the boy’s speech. Jim wasn’t the kind of person to offer up his deeper feelings on a subject so easily, and the unusual behavior tightened the nerves under his skin as he watched the blond boy tinker with the knobs on the processor.
Finally he coughed lightly into his hand, clearing his throat. “So uh…what does it do, anyway? That audio thing.”
“It measures kilohertz - sound wavelengths. You can set this model to measure anywhere between zero and ten thousand kilohertz per second, which is good because whatever’s messing up Gilliam’s scanners has to be working under low frequencies.”
“My program is more than capable of detecting frequencies far lower than any human or archaic machinery can pick up,” Gilliam said, sounding as petulant as a programmed personality possibly can.
“Not when they’re actually interfering with the sensors that detect them,” Jim said flatly, switching the machine on with a loud click!
It didn’t make any sound at first; the blank screen slowly came alive with a green light grid, displaying a motionless and likewise bright green but much thicker line.
“…Is it on?” Gene asked.
“Of course it’s on,” Jim said testily. “I have to get it into position before I can get it going-”
“What’s with talk of positions this early in the morning? Really, Gene, if you aren’t careful you’ll corrupt the boy.”
The two preoccupied crew members fell silent and looked up as one to see Fred Luo, paused a distance away from them and looking oddly tired. But almost before Gene had time to take in the exhaustion rimming Fred’s eyes, the merchant’s usual smile crawled back into place, chasing away the ghosts of fatigue and forcing his comment to finally sink in.
“Hey! I am not corrupt. You’re the one always molesting people anyway, I don’t need to hear that from you,” Gene grumbled.
Fred hummed amusedly and turned to a flustered Jim, giving him a pat on the arm. “Careful what you let this man teach you, James, or you might just turn out like he did.”
Jim scoffed. “I’m not that stupid,” he said, turning away from the both of them and going back to fiddling with the settings on the processor.
“And now you two are ganging up on me,” Gene whined, missing the quick secret glance shared by the boy genius and the smitten merchant. “What are you doing here, Fred? If you just wanted to make fun of me you could’ve done that over the phone like usual. And what, no goons with you today?”
“They’re in the car,” Fred replied, gesturing over his shoulder. Gene followed the man’s finger and recoiled at the twin gazes directed his way, which, though they were covered by sunglasses, still managed to burn holes wherever they aimed.
“Yeesh,” Gene almost shivered. “Is it me, or do they seem especially pissed off today?”
“They’re just worried.” Fred turned around and offered the two in the car a reassuring smile, which seemed to placate them somewhat. “And I came to oversee one of your deliveries.”
Gene blinked. “Deliveries? But they came yesterday. And no one’s complained that we were missing anything, even if they do complain about everything else…”
The dark haired man in front of him got a curious look on his face then; Gene thought it might be a cross between hesitant and scheming, if such a combination were possible.
“Hey, I got it working!” Jim’s sudden cry interrupted them. “It took a while to get it to work, but the low frequency setting is still kicking!”
“That’s great, Jim,” Gene said, suddenly glad for the distraction. “So how long till we know what’s wrong with Gilliam?”
“There isn’t anything wrong with me at all, thank you,” Gilliam said snippily. “The problem is whatever happens to be interfering with my unparalleled and superbly advanced programming.”
“When did you get such a big ego?” Gene glared at the wide-eyed robot near Jim’s feet. “And stop listening in other people’s conversations!”
“Like captain like starship; and will both of you keep quiet? You’re throwing off my readings!” Jim huffed, hovering over his precious machinery. He discreetly pulled his ever-present goggles down over his eyes - not because the job posed any danger to them, but because he knew what was coming, and that his eyes would give that fact away to the unsuspecting redhead.
Gene huffed and crossed his arms across his chest, but remained quiet nonetheless. For a while.
“…What delivery?” he murmured to Fred, glancing at him out of the corner of one suspicious eye.
“Hm? Oh,” Fred replied, taking his curious gaze off of Jim’s handiwork to look back at Gene. He stared at the object of his affection for a moment; just before Gene could begin to fidget under the look, Fred flashed him a spectacular smile and said simply: “Me.”
Unnoticed by all involved, Jim suddenly fumbled with the machine and began working at an almost frantic pace, as Gene eloquently voiced his confusion:
“…Huh?”
“Me!” Fred repeated, moving forward to slip an arm around Gene’s broad shoulders. “I came to deliver myself to you, Gene.” He breathed the man’s name into his ear, which slowly began to redden.
“What are you talking about?” Gene said gruffly, trying to wriggle out of Fred’s grip.
Fred gave a sigh and pulled Gene impossibly flush against his side. “You see, Gene, it’s like this. You are one of my largest investments - your ship is one of my largest investments.” He unconsciously began rubbing his ear as he continued, the usual nervous habit. “I don’t know of its origins, but I can tell it’s something unlike anything else in the galaxy. The fact that it’s a grappler ship only bumps you higher up that list of mine.”
“What are you getting at?” Gene asked, brows lowered in suspicion. As he gave another half-hearted shove at the merchant’s stubborn arm, Jim suddenly stumbled over one of the bulkier objects he had thrown out of the toolbox in his search for the audio signal processor. His arms waved wildly about in his simultaneous attempt to keep his balance and to protect his precious machine - and the battle with gravity suddenly came to a crashing end as the processor, aimed in Gene’s direction, picked up an interesting wavelength.
“Please take more care with yourself, James,” Fred admonished.
“R-right,” Jim said, quickly righting himself and patting off the fine white dust that covered the ground of the spaceship parking lot. “I mean, yeah, don’t worry about me!” He offered an embarrassed grin until the two men took their attention away from him once again, then quietly set about tracking this new wavelength.
“So?” Gene said to Fred. “What are you getting at with all this ‘investment’ talk?”
“Well, simply put…” Fred began, lifting a forefinger to illustrate his serious point, “You are a liability and an insurance nightmare. I am not one to entrust my money to other people, so in lieu of sending an agent along with you to keep you in check, I have taken it upon myself to stop you from pulling any gratuitously reckless stunts that will up my insurance rates.”
“I…hey! I’m not any more reckless than the goons that decide to battle with me! And you know I’m good for the money! Why else would you, of all people, keep letting me come back to add to all my debts?”
“Hmm, I wonder…” Fred gently brushed the tips of his fingers underneath Gene’s smooth chin, daring the ship captain to break eye contact.
“I knew it,” Jim whispered to himself, staring at the simple graph displayed on the processor. The steadily increasing number of peaks hardly seemed to surprise the young boy.
“Knew what, Jim?” the affronted Gilliam bot from earlier said from over the boy’s shoulder, nearly startling him out of his goggles.
“Shh! Keep your voice down, Gilliam!” Jim hissed, glancing up quickly to be sure the others hadn’t heard. Once satisfied, he breathed a sigh of relief. “You mean you don’t know what’s going on? Really, there’s a lot that you miss being stuck on board all the time.”
“Gene won’t let me come outside.”
“And for good reason,” Jim muttered sardonically.
“So what is it that I seem to be missing? Does it have anything to do with whatever is interfering with my scanners?”
“…What? No! This has nothing to do with your scanners. Did you always have such a one-track mind? Uh, program?”
“Actually my program allows me to focus on upwards of one thousand simultaneous tasks at any given time, should the need arise.”
“That’s great, Gilliam, really. But again, you’re getting way off the point.”
“Well if you aren’t working on my scanners, what are you doing with that audio signal processor?”
“Well, why don’t you take a look?”
The little Gilliam bot maneuvered itself to get a clearer view of the graphed screen. “It appears to be a steady wavelength - but its speed is continuously increasing.”
“Exactly,” Jim said, smirking. Suddenly the speed of the wavelength jumped to almost double what it had been; the blond boy looked up at the scene before him, and nearly laughed out loud.
Fred had managed to tease Gene into a corner made by stacks of delivery crates, and was now trapped between the merchant’s body and cold, industrial steel. Jim couldn’t hear what Fred was whispering into the ear of his redheaded friend, but if the sound pattern being graphed on the small screen was any indication, it had to be good.
“What is it measuring, exactly?” Gilliam asked, looking from the two men to the audio processor.
In the distance, Fred brushed his lips almost imperceptibly against the tip of Gene’s thoroughly red ear.
“Aniki’s heartbeat,” was all Jim had the breath to reply.
-End-