Chapter 21
Culture Clash
Everything still ached. His joints, his head, even his teeth had joined in. It wasn’t new, just ill-timed. Just the reality he faced of being a human locked skyward. But the pain when he woke was far more manageable.
He would have felt much better if he hadn’t spent the night sleeping in the cramped corner of his cabin. He had fallen asleep wrapped in a sheet in a gnarled tangle on the floor, with Fia in his bed.
Apparently, generating bioelectric current for an extended period was taxing.
She had been immensely and adorably exhausted after everything she had done for him.
He had left the cabin to grab them a snack for five minutes, tops, and by the time he came back, she was curled up and snoozing. He couldn’t bring himself to wake her.
So instead, he slept on the cold floor with a spare flat sheet and a rolled-up jacket as a pillow.
She was still out like a light when he woke up that morning.
He marveled at the sweet noises she made between breaths.
The tendrils — her stalks? — whatever they were, they were surprisingly expressive in her sleep.
Occasionally, he would catch a flicker of light pass through them as she dozed.
They were extensions of her nervous system, and his heart fluttered when he realized he could be witnessing her dreams.
I wonder if she ever dreams of me?
He wanted to just press his lips to her forehead. Steal a moment of closeness. He had pushed. He had pressed the issue and forced her to admit that the trajectory of her life veered wildly away from his. And rather than try to meet her halfway, he had recoiled.
What is wrong with you? She was offering something.
Even if it was just a fling. And you shut her out because you’re scared of change.
You can’t just go through your life waiting for someone to fall into your lap, ready to be yours forever, to settle down to your own boring routine.
She has actual ambitions. Not everyone is like you.
His heart dropped. Had he really, truly fallen for her? Is that why he wanted to drag out every moment of shore leave? To have her stay for one more cup of coffee, recount one more story of her old Fleet days, even when he was bleary from sleeplessness?
But his only chance with her would tangle him up in a life of brutality and conflict far outside what he could handle.
He was smitten, but joining a potentially violent rebellion?
That thought made his stomach churn. Not because he feared bloodshed, but because he feared he had fallen hard enough that he damn well might do it.
Of course, you realize you’re in love after you’ve ruined it. You idiot.
The knock at his door brought him out of his haze. Fia seemed entirely unaffected by the clamor, so he did his best to get to the door without making too much of a disturbance himself.
He quietly slid it to the side to see Drey standing in the walkway. Davik looked back over his shoulder towards the sleeping Icthian, and then quickly shuffled into the walkway to close the door behind him.
“What the fuck, when did you get here?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
Drey’s augmented eyes narrowed at him, and the broad-shouldered merc crossed his arms as he gave Davik a once-over.
“Ho-lee-shit, Dav,” he muttered, his gruff voice low to match his hushed tone. “Carissa said you had taken on some crew. Didn’t know you were ‘taking on’ said crew.”
Davik cursed under his breath and gestured for him to follow to the mess hall. After they put some distance between themselves and the sleeper, Drey finally piped up with a laugh in his throat.
“Fuck, kiddo. You don’t gotta be shy. Just never seen you bring a girlfriend on board.”
Davik felt a bubbling swell of irritation in his stomach. That wasn’t what she was. That wasn’t what they were. And if he didn’t grow a spine, they never would be. Plus, the word girlfriend seemed too immature to describe what he wanted with her.
“Not my girlfriend, and even if she were, it’d be none of your fucking business, Drey. Where the hell have you been?” he asked as they made their way to the mess hall.
“Woof. I see getting laid hasn’t made you chipper. Christ, boy. I missed you, too.”
Davik trudged into the scullery and set to making a pot of coffee.
Yet again, their resident problem child appeared out of nowhere after having ditched them.
Drey had barely waited for the pod to thaw before he bailed.
It was half his fault they were in this situation in the first place, and he didn’t even bother to send a ping to see how they had been doing for the last few months.
“Yeah, you did miss us, Drey,” Davik huffed. “You missed an entire trimester of Carissa’s pregnancy, and you missed us working our asses off to get Marius back. You missed a lot because you weren’t here.”
“Shit,” he hissed between gritted teeth. “You know how it is, Dav. I had to take care of my own bullshit for a bit.”
Davik let out a resigned sigh as he watched the coffee slowly drip.
He understood the situation to some extent.
The man was in a similar boat to him. Chasing the right blend of augmeds and psych-chems to keep everything together.
However, unlike him, Drey kept adding more metal to the mix to replace the failing organics.
A painful snowball effect that shaved away what was left of his body and added to his debt ledger.
“And how many people do you have looking to bleed you for payment this time, Drey? You only ever show up when you need us to bail you out.”
He cleared his throat, but didn’t offer any sort of denial.
“Damnit, man … we can’t do this. This is a bad time. We’re barely holding on. We can’t juggle hiding you and keeping our own heads above water.”
“I know, I know. Carissa, she— Trust me, she gave me an earful. But I’m not on the run, just needed a ride. My shuttle’s limping, just need a piggy-back. I’m only here to check in, make sure you’re doing okay, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Yeah, yeah. Salve your guilt. Get it out of your system and then get the hell out of here.”
He felt the venom creeping into his words, and he hated himself for it.
It’s not like the job to get his brother out went sideways because of Drey.
Someone screwed them over, got bad intel, or Davik had missed something.
But it wasn’t his fault. It just hurt that he left them high and dry afterwards.
“Alright, I deserve about fifty percent of that. I’ll let the other fifty percent slide because you look like shit. Hungover or something?”
“Or something,” he said, pouring himself a cup and doing the same for Drey.
He handed the man his mug and sat at the dining table. Drey joined him and kicked his boots up on a nearby empty chair.
“Withdrawal?” the merc asked.
Davik made a so-so gesture with his hands. “Kinda. Out of augmeds, out of sleep meds. Didn’t sleep. Didn’t dose. Got caught in a flare-up with nothing to quell it. So, I’m—”
“Oof. You’re feeling it bad-bad, huh?”
He nodded and drank deeply from his mug, perking up at the sound of footsteps. Carissa made her way into the mess hall, her walk more of a waddle than usual.
“You made me divert my route to pick you up, and then you don’t even come say hi to me first after you dock?” she said as she walked over to face the man in question. “Getting really, really high on my shitlist, Drey.”
“Hey, look. I brought a peace offering,” he said as he held his hands up in resignation. “But if you’d rather just take me out back and give me the old heave-ho…”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “I couldn’t pry your sorry ass out of my life if I tried. You’ve been a barnacle on my side since basic training. Now shut up and give me a hug.”
Drey obliged and scooped her up in a hearty embrace.
No matter what nonsense he got tangled up in, she would always drop everything to help him.
It was hard to hold it against her. They were damn near siblings.
Trauma bonding on a battleship was something Davik didn’t have a frame of reference for, but he had seen the effect it had on them.
“Alright, what’s the peace offering?” she asked.
Drey produced a slender box from his jacket, about the size of his palm, and handed it over to her. She inspected it, turning it over, and then used the box to thwap him on the forehead.
“You idiot. You think I’m in any sort of state to enjoy a Rinnan cigar?”
“Hey now, it’s for after you squeeze out the little hellion!”
Carissa laughed and moved towards the table, and Drey helped her sit — or more aptly, squat — in the chair.
“Fuck, C. You’re getting huge,” Drey murmured. He barely dodged the swift kick she aimed at his shin before he followed it up with a chuckling apology. “I mean, in a good way! You’re baking a baby in there. I just feel like I blinked, and it went from a blip to a bump.”
“Yeah, that happens. You’ve been gone for three months,” Davik muttered before sipping his coffee, taking a small bit of enjoyment watching the guilt that was creeping across the man’s features.
“I know, I’m sorry … to both of you. I just had to take care of stuff. I had a few people hounding me back then. Couldn’t just linger here, you know?”
“Yeah. You signed up for those hounds yourself, you idiot,” Carissa grumbled.
“And!” she said, jabbing a finger at Drey’s left arm.
It looked freshly augmented, inlaid with brutal metallic reinforcement and a port for some sort of tactical module.
“Look at that. Newly kitted out. Don’t think I don’t see you’ve got a fresh carbon graft. How much did that run you?”