[fic] Choppers |4
Title: Choppers 4/?
Author: girl_starfish
Rating: PG / PG 13 ish.
Notes: Thanks to mikkeneko and jamjar for putting up with my attention whoring. Much love!
The ship was duly christened -- Bart chose ‘Quicksilver’ but Kon insisted on calling it ‘the Rustbucket’ and the name was sticking -- and launched the next day. Both events were without incident.
Bernard handled the launch, having an actual valid pilot’s licence, if for the fact that it was registered to Bernard Montenelli. The on-duty customs officials recognised him and after a bit of teasing about the size of his crew (Tim and Kon having elected to stay out of sight during the exchange) they were good to go.
And did they ever go.
“Just because we can break light speed doesn’t mean we should,” Tim said, staggering over to the pilot’s command chair, where Bart was apparently trying to set a new space record. “And for all that you hold holy, adjust the pull!”
“The what?”
Bernard hit the button for the gravity localiser. “Here. Adjusts for the gravitational pull of the speeds we’re travelling at. So we don’t get pummelled all over the place where you accelerate to avoid asteroids.” He studied Bart thoughtfully. “I forget you haven’t flown in space before.”
“What?”
“Look, Tim, if you’re going to freak out over every little thing, maybe you should go back to your cabin and look at charts or something.”
“I don’t think this is freaking out over --”
“Kon, would you mind getting Tim out of here? He’s annoying our pilot.”
Kon shooed Tim out of the room, but he was apologetic about it. “Captain’s orders and all.”
Tim hated Bernard. “He’s trying to get you into bed,” he told Kon. “Just so you know.”
“Oh.” Kon took this with much more calm than Tim had thought possible. “Is he any good?”
“Excuse me?”
Kon shrugged. “If he’s good, I don’t mind so much. I mean, long journey, there isn’t much of a dating pool aboard, you know? What else are you going to do?”
Tim had not considered things in this light and was concerned to discover that made a certain amount of sense. Bernard was probably counting on the close quarters and tedium of a long journey to act in his favour.
Kon watched him sympathetically. “Fact of ship life,” he said. “You get used to it.” He paused, then added. “Just FYI, you’re more my type than he is.” And before Tim could do more than splutter incoherently, Kon patted him on the arm. “You’re not trying to seduce me,” he explained and entered his cabin.
---
They reached the edge of the Nebula quadrant the next day, 5 days ahead of schedule, thanks to Bart’s casual approach to the flight plans. Tim, thankfully, was in his cabin for most of it.
“What on earth possessed you to short-cut through a red zone?” he asked Bart in dismay as he attempted to log their current position. “You do know what a red zone is?”
Bart shrugged. “I wanted to see what was there,” he explained.
“For the love of --” Tim threw up his hands.
“What was in there?” Kon asked curiously.
“Couple of grade C stars, a small black hole and a League garrison,” Bart shrugged again. “The black hole was kind of cool.”
“League garrisson?” Tim said. “Are you sure?” Kon and Bart looked at him and he shrugged hastily. “Not that I care about League maneuvers or anything.”
“Um, whatever.” Kon said.
Bart looked like he agreed with Kon. “Anyway we’re here,” he said, pointing to Tims chart.
“How do you know?” Tim asked, circling it.
“I looked at the stars,” Bart said, fidgeting with the edge of the map, clearly becoming bored with the conversation.
Kon saw Tim’s expression and caught Bart by the elbow. “Didn’t you say you would help me oil the engine?” He maneuvered the smaller alien out of the way before Tim could give vent to his feelings.
Tim went to find Bernard. “If we end up lost forever,” he informed him, shoving Bernard’s feet off the pilot’s console on which they rested, “it is not my fault.”
“Woah -- take it easy.” Bernard scrabbled to regain balance. “Some friction can be expected during the early stages of a voyage, you know. You have to allow for differences in procedure and method --”
“If Bart had either procedure or method, I would,” Tim pulled out his charts and seated himself at the navigator’s console. It would take at least an hour of careful calculations to work out their position, and even longer to chart a new course. He said as much to Bernard who grinned.
“Ah, Tim. You’re over looking one very important detail.”
“And that would be?”
“We’re at our destination 5 days ahead of schedule. What’s a few hours to that?” Bernard patted him on the shoulder. “You’re working too hard, my friend.”
Tim had entirely neglected to notice that. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “The saving in provisions alone is more than equal --”
“Exactly!” Bernard had somehow worked his way around behind Tim to lean his hands over Tim’s shoulder blades. “You can’t be serious and grim all the time.”
Tim shut his eyes. Bernard might be obvious as all hell, but he appreciated the backrub. “I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work.”
“I’ve never met anyone who couldn’t benefit from one of my massages,” Bernard said, with confidence.
Tim snorted. “I’m not sleeping with you no matter how good you are at massages.”
Bernard paused. “This could be a perfectly innocent back rub. I mean, what’s a massage between friends? Really. I’m offended --”
“You don’t have to stop,” Tim said.
He was mildly disappointed when Kon announced that dinner was ready.
---
The shuttle had a common room area where the plating slid back to reveal their surrounding stars through heavily reinforced clear glass blend. The four of them ate together around the low table.
Bernard was effusive in praise of Kon’s cooking and Tim had to admit it was surprisingly non terrible. Kon shrugged the compliments off.
“When you’re crewing the big freighters, you learn to help out,” he said. “Everyone took a turn in the kitchen.”
“You have a lot of experience with freighters?” Tim asked.
Kon shrugged. “Freighters always need more crew. It’s a living. ‘Sides, space is -- Bart. It’s going to get cold if you leave it any longer.”
Bart made a non-commital noise, glued to the window.
Kon sighed. “One moment,” he told Tim and went to drag Bart back to the table. “Eat, or we close the plating.”
Bart reluctantly picked up his fork. “I was just looking --”
“It’s one thing to look,” Bernard said rather archly. “Quite another to spend all day looking.”
“And then there’s forgetting to eat because of it,” Kon told him with a bizarrely maternal air. “You did eat the breakfast I made you, yeah?”
“Um,” Bart paused mid-mouthful. “I don’t remember.”
Tim was amused as Kon promptly tipped what he hadn’t eaten onto Bart’s plate. Their two crew-members had quickly become friends, and Kon seemed to have taken it as his duty to look out for Bart.
Bernard was less impressed. “No good giving him food if he’s just going to waste it.”
“It’s not wasting it --” Kon started indignantly.
“You guys want to give it a rest?” Tim said. “Bart and I are trying to eat.” He stirred his ‘pasta with herbs and other stuff’ thoughtfully. “What were you saying about space, Kon?”
Bart gave Tim a look as though he’d realised what Tim had done but then Kon spoke and his nebulous attention span was transferred Kon’s way.
“It’s kind of stupid really,” Kon said, burying himself in his own pasta. “It’s just -- sometimes being planet-side feels so heavy, but out here I feel --”
“Like I can breathe,” Bart said.
“That’s it exactly. Better. Bigger -- like I can be me --” Kon caught himself and coughed. “But I guess everyone likes being in space.”
Space was exhilerating, but its immenseness and vast silences were oppressive. Tim sometimes felt choked by it -- and being able to breathe in the compressed air of the cabins? He opened his mouth to question this but Bart got in first.
“But it’s still not enough,” he said, palms flat against the window of the glass and frustration evident in his tone. “I want to be out there --”
“What’s stopping you?” Tim said. “Thanks to your short cut we’ve got time.” He looked up to find Kon and Bart staring at him and Bernard making frantic ‘be quiet’ gestures. He blinked. “You do know about the space suits in the --”
Bernard shook his head urgently. “Ix-nay on the uits-say --”
It was too late. Bart and Kon were gone.
“That’s torn it,” Bernard sighed.
“What did I do?” Tim asked.
“You’ll see,” Bernard said glumly. “We’re going to have a hell of a time keeping them inside the ship now.” He sighed, and then leaned over the table to slap Tim on the back. “If they forget to attach cables before depressurising the lock and ejecting themselves into space, you’re the one who’s going to fish them in again with the bug.”
Tim snorted. “And what are the chances of that?”
---
“What on earth possessed you to go into space without a safety cable?” Tim demanded, annoyance making the static over the in-suit radios worse. He finally managed to secure Bart’s foot, tugging him firmly towards the bug. “What were you thinking? Were you thinking?”
“Chill,” Kon, already rescued, said, belted firmly into the back of the bug. “It’s not as if we were completely helpless or anything.”
“Oh?” Tim said, maneuvering Bart inside the bug and getting a belt on him before he could float away again. The three of them were a rather tight fit inside the smaller scout ship that usually resided within the Quicksilver’s hold. It was not particularly flash, but smaller than the shuttle, and easier to pilot, it was the best thing to use for situations like this. “Explain how free floating unattached in space is in anyway good --”
“That was the best thing ever!” Bart’s headset crackled with energy and static. “Tim, you need to try it --”
“Small chance of that,” Tim said, pressing the button to close the bug’s top and sides. “Let’s hurry back before Bernard can disarrange my charts.”
Bart and Kon sat in the back of the scout-ship thoroughly unrepentent to judge from the grins. Tim found his annoyance relenting some as he parked the scout and re-oxyginated the lock. “At least we checked that the equipment works,” he said. “The scout’s excellent to handle.”
“’Course it is,” Bernard said immediately. “I reworked the steering valves. You wouldn’t believe the difference that makes.” He’d pulled off the helmet, and Tim could see he hadn’t stopped grinning once.
In spite of himself, Tim couldn’t help but smile in response. “That good?” he asked rueful.
“The best!” Bart surprised Tim by hugging him tightly. “Thank you.”
“Uh -- welcome, I guess.” Tim did not take well to being hugged at short notice.
“We got dinner to finish, yeah?” Kon rescued Tim, patting Bart on the shoulder and nudging him towards the galley. He squeezed Tim’s shoulder in passing. “Thanks, man. Seriously thanks -- that was something else.”
“You’re welcome,” Tim said watching as Kon disappeared after Bart. He couldn’t decide whether he was relieved Kon hadn’t gone for the hug or disappointed . . .
He snorted, chiding himself mentally. He didn’t even like being touched. Just because he’d been fondled more times in the last week than in his entire history of League service did not mean -- he stopped that train of thought. Bernard was clearly a bad influence.
Their erstwhile Captain’s example aside, Tim reminded himself that he did not intend to sleep with anyone on this voyage, especially since Bernard had staked out Kon and Tim had to much dignity to want to sleep with Bernard (not unless the guy drastically improved his seduction techniques, because, really!). That left Bart.
Bart was ... apart from his mostly oblivious thing going on, he seemed ridiculously young at times. Tim couldn’t see any way of accomplishing sex without feeling incredibly bad about it later. As that was a source of stress the mission could do without, Tim told himself to stop thinking like Bernard, and finish replotting their course.
“I’ve worked out a loose flight path to the part of quadrant C I think the ship we’re searching for is most likely to be,” Tim told Bernard, showing him the chart. “We need to be precise about it --”
“So, Bart flying, you navigating?” Bernard made a couple of scribbles on the notebook he used for schedules. “Tomorrow morning do you?”
Tim nodded, looking over the other papers. “What’s all this?”
“I figured that once we get to the likely zone, we’d take shifts , searching with the bug and the shuttle, cover twice the amount of area --”
“Mmm.” It made sense but Tim couldn’t help but wonder at Bernard’s reasoning. “Are you sure that putting both me and Bart in the bug is a good idea? Separating both your pilots from the shuttle --”
“You forget I can fly,” Bernard pointed out cheerfully. “And I’m sure Kon can pick up the basics of your mapping techniques. Of course, this is just the start. We will switch the schedules up later, when we’ve seen how things work out.”
Tim decided not to say anything. “I’ll go, give Bart the flight plan.”
---
“This area is prone to asteroids,” Tim said. “And this one here is a radio dead zone. No instruments will work inside it, so we avoid it by taking this pass here --”
“Mmm,” Bart appeared to find star-charts almost as interesting as flying or stars themselves. “Or we could go straight from this star here to here --”
Tim shook his head. “We’re tracking a lost vessel. Co-ordinates are more important than landmarks and your star might have shifted --”
Bart studied the charts again thoughtfully. “What are the grey areas?” he asked, stroking a finger over the surface of the map.
“Unknowns,” Tims said. “We search them last.”
“But wouldn’t that be the best place . . . ?”
“It’s a League ship we’re looking for, and these are League charts. We know they’ve explored these areas, even if they’re not on any official maps.”
Bart nodded. “I really want to see what’s out here,” he said, pointing to a grey area, outlined with a thick concentration of gaseous stars.
“Well, if we don’t find the ship by the time we’ve finished the charted areas, I suppose you could. Although, given the level of radiation from those stars -- we’ll probably want to do that last.” Tim scribbled a note of that.
Bart looked unimpressed. “Tim,” he repeated, sidling closer. “I want to go there.”
“You said that,” Tim noted. “Anyway, we’ll want to search the closer areas first --”
Bart firmly brushed the chart away from Tim’s hands. “No,” he said. “I really want to go there.”
Tim swallowed. Bart was leaning into him in a way that, particularly given his earlier reflections on the subject, did nothing for his peace of mind. “Uh, that’s not really -- uh, practical, Bart --”
“Really, really want to go,” Bart insisted, completing his stealthy invasion of Tim’s personal space by brushing up against him.
Tim, trapped against the back of his chair, did the only thing he could. “Well, if it’s like that, I suppose you could search there first --”
The sheer brilliance of the smile Bart turned on him left Tim dizzy, and feeling positively dirty. “Thank you! I’m going to tell Kon!” And he was gone before Tim could say ‘what the hell?’
---
Kon came and found Tim later. “Bart told me you’re letting him search the unmapped C-3 range.” He leaned in the doorway to the bunkroom, his tone guarded. “I wondered why.”
Tim motioned Kon to come into the cabin he shared with Bart, hitting the button to close the door behind him. “He ... surprised me,” he admitted. “I wasn’t expecting him to be quite so insistent about it.”
“You didn’t -- ah,” Kon seemed happier, sitting on Tim’s bunk. “I’ve talked to him, told him he can’t do that.” Kon shrugged. “There are other ways to get what you want.”
Tim set aside his computer. Kon was much more interesting. “How’s things going on your end?” he asked quietly. “I know you said you were all right with Bernard --”
“Oh, that. No problems,” Kon settled back comfortably. “He’s got to work a little harder first. Give in too easily, specially at the start of a voyage and you never get a break. You got to play it right.”
Kon’s matter of fact approach to it made Tim distinctly uncomfortable, and he said as much.
“What can you do?” Kon replied. “Without a PIN, you can’t pick and choose your voyages, and sometimes it’s the difference between sleeping in the cargo hold or a warm cabin.”
“Surely there are alternatives. The code of man --”
“Applies to humans,” Kon shrugged again. “Not us. When things go bad, well, all we’ve got is each other.”
Tim kept forgetting that Kon’s earth accent and human-like appearance did not make him human. “Is that what happened on the last trip?” he asked.
Kon sighed gustily. “She was gorgeous,” he said. “And good. You wouldn’t believe how good she was. Alien, yeah, and she could do this thing with -- long story short, we were going in different directions. I mean, I’m a pretty easy going guy, generally speaking, she wanted to feast upon the still heaving entrails of her enemies, and decorate her ship with their bones.” Kon sighed again. “Sad really, because apart from that --”
Tim stared. “Decorate her ship with . . . ?”
“She had a really nasty temper,” Kon said. “And she kept calling me ‘puppy.’ I wouldn’t have stuck it so long if she hadn’t been, like I said, totally hot. Anyway, she turned the ship’s guns on an unarmed mining ship after an argument. I managed to stop her, but man, did I get hell for the rest of the voyage. That convinced me it was time to move on, but she didn’t agree.” He shifted into a reclining position. “Only so many places you can hide on Orange. I tell you, I was really glad to get a place on this ship.”
“I can imagine,” Tim said. “Can’t you get some kind of restraining order or --”
“Human laws apply to humans or those who have injured a human,” Kon reminded him. “’Sides, I don’t think she’s really the kind to care about what anyone else tells her to do.”
“But surely --”
“No one cares. We’re just aliens to the League and all the rest.” Kon shrugged. “You’re a nice guy, Tim, and I’ve met a few humans I would trust but you gotta face facts. The majority of your lot would be just as happy telling us to go frag ourselves.”
“That’s -- I had no idea the League’s humanist policies were so bad --”
“Hey,” Kon grinned at him. “Could be worse. We could be human.”
Tim snorted. “What are you?” he asked. “If you don’t mind telling me.”
“Don’t actually know. No parents, and the first people I knew were human and if they knew, they weren’t about to tell me.”
“Couldn’t you do the test, find out for sure?”
Kon shrugged. “I -- the people who found me were -- well, they were pretty insistent on keeping me. I ran away. Don’t want to do anything that would draw attention to myself. I figure if I’m out in space, cruising, I got as good a chance of finding my own kind as any. Sides, I kind of have the feeling I’m better off not knowing.”
Tim couldn’t even imagine what that must feel like. “That must be hard.”
“Just something you get used to. ‘Sides, it has its perks.”
“Hot alien sex?” Tim asked, thinking of Bernard.
Kon laughed. “For me, that’s almost a given,” he smirked. “Nah. How old do you think I am?”
Tim studied him. “You look -- for a human at least -- between 16 and 18,” he said. “But you sound older when you talk.”
Kon nodded. “Dunno how old, not exactly. I don’t remember anything before the scientists. But I ran into Rex, my old Captain a few months ago. He was one of the first Captain’s I had, small vessel and everything, so you got to know everyone really well. But yeah, that was ten years ago right? And he’d aged, gotten older -- and I’m exactly the same.”
“Ten years?” Tim leaned in to have a closer look. “And you didn’t grow taller or --”
“He dug out old photos to prove it,” Kon shrugged. “So yeah, dunno if I’m immortal or what the story is, but I guess I don’t have to worry about dentures or a cane for a long, long while.”
“But isn’t --” Tim paused as there was a knock on the door. “Yes?”
Bernard slid the door open. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said brightly. “Kon, I was wondering if you wanted a hand with the dishes.”
“That’d be cool, thanks.” Kon stood. “See ya, Tim.”
Bernard flashed Tim a victory sign. Tim only just refrained from rolling his eyes. He had no idea.
---
As arranged, Tim and Bart took flight shift together next morning. Bernard neglected to join them, saying that once you’ve seen Bart pilot recklessly through one asteroid field, you’ve seen them all, and that given the choice between the stark terror of a near brush with death, and sleeping in? They could wake him for lunch, thanks.
Kon chose to join them, however, placing a thermos of coffee beside Tim’s chair. “Mind if I --?” he asked, motioning towards the empty Captain’s chair.
“Not at all,” Tim said. Bart was still doing the logistics check in preparation for the asteroid field, so they had time. “I’d tell you to keep quiet and not distract us, but you’re an old hand at this.”
Kon smiled, taking the seat. “Actually, most pilots’ll have a fit if a lowly grunt like me enters their precious control deck. Bart’s the first non-human pilot I’ve seen.”
Bart grinned at him. “Watch me go through the asteroid belt --”
“Around the asteroid belt,” Tim reminded him. “We discussed avoidable risks.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Kon asked as he settled back.
“If I look as though I’m about to strangle Bart, you may want to stop me,” Tim said. “Apart from that --”
Bart hit the thrusters. “We’re good to go, yeah?”
“Ask that before you go to light-speed?” Tim frantically grabbed for his charts. “Vector left -- LEFT!”
“Just teasing,” Bart said, lazily spinning out of the way of an encroaching star and back onto the flight plan. “This way to the asteroids?”
Tim got the distinct impression it was a losing battle.
---
Author: girl_starfish
Rating: PG / PG 13 ish.
Notes: Thanks to mikkeneko and jamjar for putting up with my attention whoring. Much love!
The ship was duly christened -- Bart chose ‘Quicksilver’ but Kon insisted on calling it ‘the Rustbucket’ and the name was sticking -- and launched the next day. Both events were without incident.
Bernard handled the launch, having an actual valid pilot’s licence, if for the fact that it was registered to Bernard Montenelli. The on-duty customs officials recognised him and after a bit of teasing about the size of his crew (Tim and Kon having elected to stay out of sight during the exchange) they were good to go.
And did they ever go.
“Just because we can break light speed doesn’t mean we should,” Tim said, staggering over to the pilot’s command chair, where Bart was apparently trying to set a new space record. “And for all that you hold holy, adjust the pull!”
“The what?”
Bernard hit the button for the gravity localiser. “Here. Adjusts for the gravitational pull of the speeds we’re travelling at. So we don’t get pummelled all over the place where you accelerate to avoid asteroids.” He studied Bart thoughtfully. “I forget you haven’t flown in space before.”
“What?”
“Look, Tim, if you’re going to freak out over every little thing, maybe you should go back to your cabin and look at charts or something.”
“I don’t think this is freaking out over --”
“Kon, would you mind getting Tim out of here? He’s annoying our pilot.”
Kon shooed Tim out of the room, but he was apologetic about it. “Captain’s orders and all.”
Tim hated Bernard. “He’s trying to get you into bed,” he told Kon. “Just so you know.”
“Oh.” Kon took this with much more calm than Tim had thought possible. “Is he any good?”
“Excuse me?”
Kon shrugged. “If he’s good, I don’t mind so much. I mean, long journey, there isn’t much of a dating pool aboard, you know? What else are you going to do?”
Tim had not considered things in this light and was concerned to discover that made a certain amount of sense. Bernard was probably counting on the close quarters and tedium of a long journey to act in his favour.
Kon watched him sympathetically. “Fact of ship life,” he said. “You get used to it.” He paused, then added. “Just FYI, you’re more my type than he is.” And before Tim could do more than splutter incoherently, Kon patted him on the arm. “You’re not trying to seduce me,” he explained and entered his cabin.
---
They reached the edge of the Nebula quadrant the next day, 5 days ahead of schedule, thanks to Bart’s casual approach to the flight plans. Tim, thankfully, was in his cabin for most of it.
“What on earth possessed you to short-cut through a red zone?” he asked Bart in dismay as he attempted to log their current position. “You do know what a red zone is?”
Bart shrugged. “I wanted to see what was there,” he explained.
“For the love of --” Tim threw up his hands.
“What was in there?” Kon asked curiously.
“Couple of grade C stars, a small black hole and a League garrison,” Bart shrugged again. “The black hole was kind of cool.”
“League garrisson?” Tim said. “Are you sure?” Kon and Bart looked at him and he shrugged hastily. “Not that I care about League maneuvers or anything.”
“Um, whatever.” Kon said.
Bart looked like he agreed with Kon. “Anyway we’re here,” he said, pointing to Tims chart.
“How do you know?” Tim asked, circling it.
“I looked at the stars,” Bart said, fidgeting with the edge of the map, clearly becoming bored with the conversation.
Kon saw Tim’s expression and caught Bart by the elbow. “Didn’t you say you would help me oil the engine?” He maneuvered the smaller alien out of the way before Tim could give vent to his feelings.
Tim went to find Bernard. “If we end up lost forever,” he informed him, shoving Bernard’s feet off the pilot’s console on which they rested, “it is not my fault.”
“Woah -- take it easy.” Bernard scrabbled to regain balance. “Some friction can be expected during the early stages of a voyage, you know. You have to allow for differences in procedure and method --”
“If Bart had either procedure or method, I would,” Tim pulled out his charts and seated himself at the navigator’s console. It would take at least an hour of careful calculations to work out their position, and even longer to chart a new course. He said as much to Bernard who grinned.
“Ah, Tim. You’re over looking one very important detail.”
“And that would be?”
“We’re at our destination 5 days ahead of schedule. What’s a few hours to that?” Bernard patted him on the shoulder. “You’re working too hard, my friend.”
Tim had entirely neglected to notice that. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “The saving in provisions alone is more than equal --”
“Exactly!” Bernard had somehow worked his way around behind Tim to lean his hands over Tim’s shoulder blades. “You can’t be serious and grim all the time.”
Tim shut his eyes. Bernard might be obvious as all hell, but he appreciated the backrub. “I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work.”
“I’ve never met anyone who couldn’t benefit from one of my massages,” Bernard said, with confidence.
Tim snorted. “I’m not sleeping with you no matter how good you are at massages.”
Bernard paused. “This could be a perfectly innocent back rub. I mean, what’s a massage between friends? Really. I’m offended --”
“You don’t have to stop,” Tim said.
He was mildly disappointed when Kon announced that dinner was ready.
---
The shuttle had a common room area where the plating slid back to reveal their surrounding stars through heavily reinforced clear glass blend. The four of them ate together around the low table.
Bernard was effusive in praise of Kon’s cooking and Tim had to admit it was surprisingly non terrible. Kon shrugged the compliments off.
“When you’re crewing the big freighters, you learn to help out,” he said. “Everyone took a turn in the kitchen.”
“You have a lot of experience with freighters?” Tim asked.
Kon shrugged. “Freighters always need more crew. It’s a living. ‘Sides, space is -- Bart. It’s going to get cold if you leave it any longer.”
Bart made a non-commital noise, glued to the window.
Kon sighed. “One moment,” he told Tim and went to drag Bart back to the table. “Eat, or we close the plating.”
Bart reluctantly picked up his fork. “I was just looking --”
“It’s one thing to look,” Bernard said rather archly. “Quite another to spend all day looking.”
“And then there’s forgetting to eat because of it,” Kon told him with a bizarrely maternal air. “You did eat the breakfast I made you, yeah?”
“Um,” Bart paused mid-mouthful. “I don’t remember.”
Tim was amused as Kon promptly tipped what he hadn’t eaten onto Bart’s plate. Their two crew-members had quickly become friends, and Kon seemed to have taken it as his duty to look out for Bart.
Bernard was less impressed. “No good giving him food if he’s just going to waste it.”
“It’s not wasting it --” Kon started indignantly.
“You guys want to give it a rest?” Tim said. “Bart and I are trying to eat.” He stirred his ‘pasta with herbs and other stuff’ thoughtfully. “What were you saying about space, Kon?”
Bart gave Tim a look as though he’d realised what Tim had done but then Kon spoke and his nebulous attention span was transferred Kon’s way.
“It’s kind of stupid really,” Kon said, burying himself in his own pasta. “It’s just -- sometimes being planet-side feels so heavy, but out here I feel --”
“Like I can breathe,” Bart said.
“That’s it exactly. Better. Bigger -- like I can be me --” Kon caught himself and coughed. “But I guess everyone likes being in space.”
Space was exhilerating, but its immenseness and vast silences were oppressive. Tim sometimes felt choked by it -- and being able to breathe in the compressed air of the cabins? He opened his mouth to question this but Bart got in first.
“But it’s still not enough,” he said, palms flat against the window of the glass and frustration evident in his tone. “I want to be out there --”
“What’s stopping you?” Tim said. “Thanks to your short cut we’ve got time.” He looked up to find Kon and Bart staring at him and Bernard making frantic ‘be quiet’ gestures. He blinked. “You do know about the space suits in the --”
Bernard shook his head urgently. “Ix-nay on the uits-say --”
It was too late. Bart and Kon were gone.
“That’s torn it,” Bernard sighed.
“What did I do?” Tim asked.
“You’ll see,” Bernard said glumly. “We’re going to have a hell of a time keeping them inside the ship now.” He sighed, and then leaned over the table to slap Tim on the back. “If they forget to attach cables before depressurising the lock and ejecting themselves into space, you’re the one who’s going to fish them in again with the bug.”
Tim snorted. “And what are the chances of that?”
---
“What on earth possessed you to go into space without a safety cable?” Tim demanded, annoyance making the static over the in-suit radios worse. He finally managed to secure Bart’s foot, tugging him firmly towards the bug. “What were you thinking? Were you thinking?”
“Chill,” Kon, already rescued, said, belted firmly into the back of the bug. “It’s not as if we were completely helpless or anything.”
“Oh?” Tim said, maneuvering Bart inside the bug and getting a belt on him before he could float away again. The three of them were a rather tight fit inside the smaller scout ship that usually resided within the Quicksilver’s hold. It was not particularly flash, but smaller than the shuttle, and easier to pilot, it was the best thing to use for situations like this. “Explain how free floating unattached in space is in anyway good --”
“That was the best thing ever!” Bart’s headset crackled with energy and static. “Tim, you need to try it --”
“Small chance of that,” Tim said, pressing the button to close the bug’s top and sides. “Let’s hurry back before Bernard can disarrange my charts.”
Bart and Kon sat in the back of the scout-ship thoroughly unrepentent to judge from the grins. Tim found his annoyance relenting some as he parked the scout and re-oxyginated the lock. “At least we checked that the equipment works,” he said. “The scout’s excellent to handle.”
“’Course it is,” Bernard said immediately. “I reworked the steering valves. You wouldn’t believe the difference that makes.” He’d pulled off the helmet, and Tim could see he hadn’t stopped grinning once.
In spite of himself, Tim couldn’t help but smile in response. “That good?” he asked rueful.
“The best!” Bart surprised Tim by hugging him tightly. “Thank you.”
“Uh -- welcome, I guess.” Tim did not take well to being hugged at short notice.
“We got dinner to finish, yeah?” Kon rescued Tim, patting Bart on the shoulder and nudging him towards the galley. He squeezed Tim’s shoulder in passing. “Thanks, man. Seriously thanks -- that was something else.”
“You’re welcome,” Tim said watching as Kon disappeared after Bart. He couldn’t decide whether he was relieved Kon hadn’t gone for the hug or disappointed . . .
He snorted, chiding himself mentally. He didn’t even like being touched. Just because he’d been fondled more times in the last week than in his entire history of League service did not mean -- he stopped that train of thought. Bernard was clearly a bad influence.
Their erstwhile Captain’s example aside, Tim reminded himself that he did not intend to sleep with anyone on this voyage, especially since Bernard had staked out Kon and Tim had to much dignity to want to sleep with Bernard (not unless the guy drastically improved his seduction techniques, because, really!). That left Bart.
Bart was ... apart from his mostly oblivious thing going on, he seemed ridiculously young at times. Tim couldn’t see any way of accomplishing sex without feeling incredibly bad about it later. As that was a source of stress the mission could do without, Tim told himself to stop thinking like Bernard, and finish replotting their course.
“I’ve worked out a loose flight path to the part of quadrant C I think the ship we’re searching for is most likely to be,” Tim told Bernard, showing him the chart. “We need to be precise about it --”
“So, Bart flying, you navigating?” Bernard made a couple of scribbles on the notebook he used for schedules. “Tomorrow morning do you?”
Tim nodded, looking over the other papers. “What’s all this?”
“I figured that once we get to the likely zone, we’d take shifts , searching with the bug and the shuttle, cover twice the amount of area --”
“Mmm.” It made sense but Tim couldn’t help but wonder at Bernard’s reasoning. “Are you sure that putting both me and Bart in the bug is a good idea? Separating both your pilots from the shuttle --”
“You forget I can fly,” Bernard pointed out cheerfully. “And I’m sure Kon can pick up the basics of your mapping techniques. Of course, this is just the start. We will switch the schedules up later, when we’ve seen how things work out.”
Tim decided not to say anything. “I’ll go, give Bart the flight plan.”
---
“This area is prone to asteroids,” Tim said. “And this one here is a radio dead zone. No instruments will work inside it, so we avoid it by taking this pass here --”
“Mmm,” Bart appeared to find star-charts almost as interesting as flying or stars themselves. “Or we could go straight from this star here to here --”
Tim shook his head. “We’re tracking a lost vessel. Co-ordinates are more important than landmarks and your star might have shifted --”
Bart studied the charts again thoughtfully. “What are the grey areas?” he asked, stroking a finger over the surface of the map.
“Unknowns,” Tims said. “We search them last.”
“But wouldn’t that be the best place . . . ?”
“It’s a League ship we’re looking for, and these are League charts. We know they’ve explored these areas, even if they’re not on any official maps.”
Bart nodded. “I really want to see what’s out here,” he said, pointing to a grey area, outlined with a thick concentration of gaseous stars.
“Well, if we don’t find the ship by the time we’ve finished the charted areas, I suppose you could. Although, given the level of radiation from those stars -- we’ll probably want to do that last.” Tim scribbled a note of that.
Bart looked unimpressed. “Tim,” he repeated, sidling closer. “I want to go there.”
“You said that,” Tim noted. “Anyway, we’ll want to search the closer areas first --”
Bart firmly brushed the chart away from Tim’s hands. “No,” he said. “I really want to go there.”
Tim swallowed. Bart was leaning into him in a way that, particularly given his earlier reflections on the subject, did nothing for his peace of mind. “Uh, that’s not really -- uh, practical, Bart --”
“Really, really want to go,” Bart insisted, completing his stealthy invasion of Tim’s personal space by brushing up against him.
Tim, trapped against the back of his chair, did the only thing he could. “Well, if it’s like that, I suppose you could search there first --”
The sheer brilliance of the smile Bart turned on him left Tim dizzy, and feeling positively dirty. “Thank you! I’m going to tell Kon!” And he was gone before Tim could say ‘what the hell?’
---
Kon came and found Tim later. “Bart told me you’re letting him search the unmapped C-3 range.” He leaned in the doorway to the bunkroom, his tone guarded. “I wondered why.”
Tim motioned Kon to come into the cabin he shared with Bart, hitting the button to close the door behind him. “He ... surprised me,” he admitted. “I wasn’t expecting him to be quite so insistent about it.”
“You didn’t -- ah,” Kon seemed happier, sitting on Tim’s bunk. “I’ve talked to him, told him he can’t do that.” Kon shrugged. “There are other ways to get what you want.”
Tim set aside his computer. Kon was much more interesting. “How’s things going on your end?” he asked quietly. “I know you said you were all right with Bernard --”
“Oh, that. No problems,” Kon settled back comfortably. “He’s got to work a little harder first. Give in too easily, specially at the start of a voyage and you never get a break. You got to play it right.”
Kon’s matter of fact approach to it made Tim distinctly uncomfortable, and he said as much.
“What can you do?” Kon replied. “Without a PIN, you can’t pick and choose your voyages, and sometimes it’s the difference between sleeping in the cargo hold or a warm cabin.”
“Surely there are alternatives. The code of man --”
“Applies to humans,” Kon shrugged again. “Not us. When things go bad, well, all we’ve got is each other.”
Tim kept forgetting that Kon’s earth accent and human-like appearance did not make him human. “Is that what happened on the last trip?” he asked.
Kon sighed gustily. “She was gorgeous,” he said. “And good. You wouldn’t believe how good she was. Alien, yeah, and she could do this thing with -- long story short, we were going in different directions. I mean, I’m a pretty easy going guy, generally speaking, she wanted to feast upon the still heaving entrails of her enemies, and decorate her ship with their bones.” Kon sighed again. “Sad really, because apart from that --”
Tim stared. “Decorate her ship with . . . ?”
“She had a really nasty temper,” Kon said. “And she kept calling me ‘puppy.’ I wouldn’t have stuck it so long if she hadn’t been, like I said, totally hot. Anyway, she turned the ship’s guns on an unarmed mining ship after an argument. I managed to stop her, but man, did I get hell for the rest of the voyage. That convinced me it was time to move on, but she didn’t agree.” He shifted into a reclining position. “Only so many places you can hide on Orange. I tell you, I was really glad to get a place on this ship.”
“I can imagine,” Tim said. “Can’t you get some kind of restraining order or --”
“Human laws apply to humans or those who have injured a human,” Kon reminded him. “’Sides, I don’t think she’s really the kind to care about what anyone else tells her to do.”
“But surely --”
“No one cares. We’re just aliens to the League and all the rest.” Kon shrugged. “You’re a nice guy, Tim, and I’ve met a few humans I would trust but you gotta face facts. The majority of your lot would be just as happy telling us to go frag ourselves.”
“That’s -- I had no idea the League’s humanist policies were so bad --”
“Hey,” Kon grinned at him. “Could be worse. We could be human.”
Tim snorted. “What are you?” he asked. “If you don’t mind telling me.”
“Don’t actually know. No parents, and the first people I knew were human and if they knew, they weren’t about to tell me.”
“Couldn’t you do the test, find out for sure?”
Kon shrugged. “I -- the people who found me were -- well, they were pretty insistent on keeping me. I ran away. Don’t want to do anything that would draw attention to myself. I figure if I’m out in space, cruising, I got as good a chance of finding my own kind as any. Sides, I kind of have the feeling I’m better off not knowing.”
Tim couldn’t even imagine what that must feel like. “That must be hard.”
“Just something you get used to. ‘Sides, it has its perks.”
“Hot alien sex?” Tim asked, thinking of Bernard.
Kon laughed. “For me, that’s almost a given,” he smirked. “Nah. How old do you think I am?”
Tim studied him. “You look -- for a human at least -- between 16 and 18,” he said. “But you sound older when you talk.”
Kon nodded. “Dunno how old, not exactly. I don’t remember anything before the scientists. But I ran into Rex, my old Captain a few months ago. He was one of the first Captain’s I had, small vessel and everything, so you got to know everyone really well. But yeah, that was ten years ago right? And he’d aged, gotten older -- and I’m exactly the same.”
“Ten years?” Tim leaned in to have a closer look. “And you didn’t grow taller or --”
“He dug out old photos to prove it,” Kon shrugged. “So yeah, dunno if I’m immortal or what the story is, but I guess I don’t have to worry about dentures or a cane for a long, long while.”
“But isn’t --” Tim paused as there was a knock on the door. “Yes?”
Bernard slid the door open. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said brightly. “Kon, I was wondering if you wanted a hand with the dishes.”
“That’d be cool, thanks.” Kon stood. “See ya, Tim.”
Bernard flashed Tim a victory sign. Tim only just refrained from rolling his eyes. He had no idea.
---
As arranged, Tim and Bart took flight shift together next morning. Bernard neglected to join them, saying that once you’ve seen Bart pilot recklessly through one asteroid field, you’ve seen them all, and that given the choice between the stark terror of a near brush with death, and sleeping in? They could wake him for lunch, thanks.
Kon chose to join them, however, placing a thermos of coffee beside Tim’s chair. “Mind if I --?” he asked, motioning towards the empty Captain’s chair.
“Not at all,” Tim said. Bart was still doing the logistics check in preparation for the asteroid field, so they had time. “I’d tell you to keep quiet and not distract us, but you’re an old hand at this.”
Kon smiled, taking the seat. “Actually, most pilots’ll have a fit if a lowly grunt like me enters their precious control deck. Bart’s the first non-human pilot I’ve seen.”
Bart grinned at him. “Watch me go through the asteroid belt --”
“Around the asteroid belt,” Tim reminded him. “We discussed avoidable risks.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Kon asked as he settled back.
“If I look as though I’m about to strangle Bart, you may want to stop me,” Tim said. “Apart from that --”
Bart hit the thrusters. “We’re good to go, yeah?”
“Ask that before you go to light-speed?” Tim frantically grabbed for his charts. “Vector left -- LEFT!”
“Just teasing,” Bart said, lazily spinning out of the way of an encroaching star and back onto the flight plan. “This way to the asteroids?”
Tim got the distinct impression it was a losing battle.
---