Chapter 16 #2
The ache in his hands and shoulders from all the fine detail work was fierce, but he didn’t want to dip into his dwindling supply of pain suppressors and augmeds.
Not yet, at least. For all he knew, it might spring a leak, and then he’d be too fuzzy around the edges to operate a torch.
He had to stay sharp. Even if that sharpness echoed in his joints as he typed out a message to Fia on his datapad.
“When’s your ETA? I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“I will be back within the hour. Should I grab anything for you while I am off-ship? The shop I am in has: spices, candles, nutri-gel, lottery tickets, and latex bodysuits.”
Davik knew that pressing the screen more intently didn’t make the message any louder, but he still replied in all caps.
“THE LAST ONE. DEFINITELY THE LAST ONE. VERY IMPORTANT, DEFINITELY NEEDED FOR THE INTEGRITY OF OUR MISSION.”
Her reply was just a single orange heart icon and a laughing cat digi-sticker.
It made his own heart throb. And then, the image of her in something skintight and latex elicited a separate, far less wholesome throb.
He did his best to set his mind to checking the bell for any sign of a leak, before he lost himself in that image and became a leaking mess of his own.
Hopefully, large military-industrial espionage tubes were an acceptable token of affection because he had not had an opportunity to get her something normal, like candy or flowers.
Or latex.
She is just joking. Calm down.
He was being defensive. It was a learned behavior.
It was a protective impulse. If he coated his burgeoning feelings of hope with doubt, then it would soften the blow when things inevitably fell apart.
He needed to take a step back and enjoy it for what it was: harmless flirting with a woman.
One who was lost, and alone, and part of a conflict and culture he couldn’t fathom.
But that wasn’t right. If anything, he felt like the inverse.
She was lost, but she was not so weak that she could not stand up for herself.
Sure, she needed the occasional shoulder to lean on, but that seemed entirely reasonable given the circumstances.
He had offered support, and she had returned it tenfold.
She listened to his excited ramblings about engine efficiency. She would point out his doodles in the margins of his notes and ask him to draw some Earth creature she had read about.
Time spent with her just felt right. It was so easy just to exist around her. It wasn’t a one-sided, volatile dynamic where he frantically tried to patch up her hurt with shallow offers of gifts and distractions.
And every time you see a sticker she’s stuck somewhere on the ship, you get all giddy. Like a damn schoolboy.
He had always cared so much, but it was never right.
Never the right time, never the right person.
What he offered was never enough to fix them.
Or maybe the issue was that he snuffed out someone’s ability to fix themselves because he insisted on solving things to brute-force his importance in their life.
He let out a hiss of pain as he finished tightening one more of the bolts on the tank. He really needed to get a refill of his meds. All of them.
Another to-do for the list.
By the time Davik realized Fia had gotten back to the ship, the tank had circulated enough heat from its thermal coils to be acceptably tepid. Still a far cry from the cozy warmth of the pool they had shared back in Driska Station, but it would be enough.
She stared at the tank, setting down the bags of supplies she had picked up on the station.
She tapped her claws on the plexiglass, and her pupils blew wide, reducing the color in her eyes to just a thin glimmer of green surrounding a sea of black.
Words that sounded like happy Teelish fell from her lips, and her tendrils shimmered with excitement beneath her scales.
“Hopefully, it isn’t off-spec, but … ta-da!”
She pushed back from the tank and closed the distance between them in a heartbeat. His own pulse thundered as she grabbed his face, those wide pupils drinking him in.
He heard a soft trilling noise emanating from her throat. Like a fluttering wing, but guttural. She pressed her forehead to his, and he was immediately and keenly aware that he was breathing the same air as her.
“This is a kindness I can never repay, Davik. You have worked so hard. Do you realize how important this is?”
“Hey, you’ve helped me, too. Besides, we’re in this together now. Y-you like it?”
She pulled away, and he felt the sudden space between them sapping his energy. Her hand touched the tank reverently. It was nice that she appreciated his hard work, but he really, really wanted to come back to that moment of closeness.
“You have returned to me a part of myself that I thought was lost. If this helps me find the operative, this could be a step towards liberation. Davik, this is…”
That’s what she needs to focus on. Not you. She’s a soldier, you idiot.
“Well, she should be ready to go. You want to give it a whirl?” he interrupted, his throat tightening with a confusing tangle of excitement and worry. This might help save the operative, which might save his brother.
And it was setting her on a path away from him. Away from his comfortable risk of low-level crime and back into her world, doing whatever it is TCIP does. Blowing up mining stations, taking down Feds. Things that were far, far from his comfort zone.
Fia was already shrugging her clothes off before he realized it. He had been so busy wallowing that he had missed watching her unzip her jacket, and she had already stripped off her pants by the time he had re-focused.
He did his best to remember what he was meant to do to operate the damned thing.
Unfortunately, the reflection in the tank was clear as day, and it showed her entire body in beautiful, near-nude perfection.
Save for a simple pair of shorts and a bandeau that kept the best parts of her obscured.
The spectacular view incinerated his memory of whatever the hell he was supposed to be doing.
“Oh, I almost forgot!”
She had already been making for the ladder up the tank before she stopped herself, hopping down to grab something from her bags. It looked like a stimbead canister, and Davik let out a surprised laugh at the indulgence.
“I will need these!” she exclaimed, her smile wide.
“Since when were you hooked on stimbeads?”
“Deciphering datastreams is neurologically taxing. On the Fleet, we had technicians administering stimulants.” She popped a few of the pea-sized spheres into her mouth and shrugged at him. “This may be an effective alternative.”
He shook his head in disbelief and gave her a little shooing gesture as she headed back up the ladder. “Before you go under, anything I should keep an eye out for? This is my first time, too.”
“I will take it easy for this first run. I do not wish to overload myself.”
“Overload?” he asked, tapping his fingers on his datapad. “That sounds ominous.”
“It is not something you need worry about. There is a potential risk of mild neurological damage if I cannot keep things—” She paused, making a calming gesture with her hands as she spoke. “Controlled.”
She moved to press her palm to the plexiglass, the webbing between her fingers splayed enough that the light within the tank could barely peek through.
“Without the tank, manipulating datastreams is like pulling on a thread. I tug, and something comes my way. Then I read, untangle, and decipher. But I can only pull with my own strength. There is equilibrium. It is nearly impossible to draw more than I can handle on my own.”
“But this tank amplifies your pull, enough for you to get in over your head,” he said, worry beginning to show on his face.
“Well, shit. You’re smart enough to know your limits.
And strong enough that even if I said no, it’s not like I could do more than mildly inconvenience you from doing it, anyway. ”
That earned him a mischievous smile from her that sent his blood to all the wrong places for the task at hand.
“Wish me luck on my maiden voyage? Though I am no maiden, and I am not voyaging far.”
“You’ve got this, Fia. Good luck.”