Sidekick flinched slightly at an unexpected, cold touch, looking down to see Villain pulling their hands away. "Sorry," they said, keeping their hands up and in view. Sidekick just sighed, relaxing back into the couch again, shifting their weight. They rested their feet once more on Villain's lap.
"No, it's alright," Sidekick said, grabbing another handful of popcorn from the bowl on the floor. "Just wasn't expecting it is all."
"Nervous?" Villain teased, their voice a purr. Sidekick laughed softly. Villain tickled their soles with cool fingers.
"Maybe," they joked. "I'm watching a scary movie, after all."
"Blade's not a scary movie," Villain snorted. Sidekick snickered.
"How many times have you seen this?" they asked, shooting Villain a look before cramming some salty popcorn in their mouth. Villain grinned down at them, their eyes gleaming in the dark living room.
"Too many times to count," they said. Sidekick huffed. They rested their head further back against the arm of the couch, stretching out and taking up the full length of the cushions. Villain sat straight and tall against the other arm, smiling, and once Sidekick settled down again, they began idly rubbing their socked feet.
Sidekick sighed, relaxing deeper, watching the movie. This was a nice change in pace. The public dating had been nerve-racking at times. They both looked very different outside of their costumes, but that somehow never put Sidekick at ease. This was better. More casual. More private. More… intimate.
"I can see where you get your costume inspiration from," Sidekick blurted. Villain snorted.
"I'm a product of my age," they said.
"When did this movie come out?" Sidekick lifted their head to look at Villain.
"Ninety-eight."
"Huh, I thought it was older," Sidekick said, looking to the TV again. Villain snorted.
"How old do you think I am?"
Sidekick looked down at Villain. In the dark, with only the light of the movie, Villain looked… a bit ghostly. Their eyes gleamed, and it looked just a little too bright to be a reflection from the screen. Sidekick raised an eyebrow.
"That's a trick question."
Villain grinned, and that smile sent pleasant chills fluttering across Sidekick's back. They were suddenly frustrated with the dim light, and how it kept them from seeing Villain's lips clearly. Simultaneously, it made their thoughts wander over Villain's body.
Sidekick laid their head down, tucking their face against the couch arm. They watched the movie intently as Villain rubbed their feet. The feeling of it danced the line between ticklish and painful. It was the most Villain had touched them in the months they'd been dating. Sidekick was sure those cool hands could do wonderful things. Magical things. Breath-stealing things. They stole a look away from Wesley Snipes' rolling muscles and dark skin to look at Villain, bathed in darkness right next to them. Villain was a sight to behold in costume, leather strapping and hugging across their body in all the right places. Hair wild. Bared arms glittering with blood and sweat in the moonlight. Now, they wore fuzzy pajama pants and a thin t-shirt. But their hair was still huge, and free, and thick, and soft-looking. And their eyes still gleamed. Sidekick realized with a start that Villain was still looking directly at them.
They looked back to the movie.
Sidekick stole glances at Villain now and then, but stopped when it seemed that Villain was watching them more than the movie. Sidekick shivered pleasantly when Villain moved on from their feet to their lower legs. They nibbled bits of popcorn in between remembering how to breathe and trying to focus on the movie.
"Okay," Sidekick blurted after awhile of silence between them. "Why is it that if a vampire is a good guy, they're automatically a daywalker?"
Villain laughed.
"Have you noticed that?!" Sidekick complained. "What's the deal with that? Getting to see the sun doesn't automatically mean you're a better person!" They got up on their elbow, debating throwing what little popcorn they had left at the screen.
"You're saying Hollywood assigns a morality to their nature?" Villain asked.
"They absolutely do," Sidekick said, and then ate their popcorn. "It's wrong. A nightwalker can be good, and a daywalker can be bad."
"A vampire can be good?" Villain asked.
"Yes!" Sidekick looked at them like it was an obvious question. "A vampire may be necessarily hyper-carnivorous, but it doesn't mean they're bad!" Villain huffed a small laugh. "It's how you choose to live. You can drink blood and be ethical about it, just like you can eat beef and be ethical about it."
"So you're saying vampires are just as moral as humans?"
"Yes. It's not different; vampires were humans once, and they don't lose their humanity by the action of being turned, they lose it when they choose to lose it."
"So a vampire can still be a good, trustworthy person? They can still be likeable?"
Sidekick looked at Villain, confused.
"Yes," they said. Villain was looking them in the eyes, now. Even in the dark, Sidekick could… feel it. Just as clearly as they felt Villain's cold hands laying on their legs.
Villain was staring at them. Deep into their eyes. Like they were talking about something very important, and not just a movie. Not just fiction. Villain's eyes gleamed, their always-cold hands flexed over Sidekick's sweatpants, and they were sitting… incredibly still. Incredibly perfect.
Sidekick narrowed their eyes. Then their eyes flew wide open, and they flinched up into a sitting position, sitting against the opposite side of the couch, staring back at Villain.
They only ever saw Villain at night. Villain was a shapeshifter who had very specific forms, and super strength. Their hands were always cold, they never got too close to Sidekick, their eyes were so bright despite the dark, and they had never actually seen them put more than water in their mouth on any of their dates—
"Woah," Sidekick whispered, looking down at the spilled popcorn bowl. They closed their eyes.
Staying at Sidekick's and watching Blade had been Villain's idea.
Because…
"You wanted me to know," Sidekick uttered. "But you wanted to know how I would react."
"Yes."
Sidekick dropped their face into their hands… and laughed. They laughed, and it was painful, like a dry cough. Because all they could think was thank God.
Thank God it wasn't them.
Thank God there was a reason Villain never kissed them.
Thank God their significant other had a reason to barely ever touch them or get intimately close to them.
"That's why you can't kiss me," Sidekick laughed, their voice rasping. The couch shifted as Villain moved. Closer.
"I haven't kissed you, yet," Villain hummed, "because… there are risks. To kissing me." Sidekick looked up, eyes wide, and didn't flinch when they saw that Villain was now on the cushion next to them, eyes shining in the dark. "And it would have been unforgivable of me to take those risks without explaining them to you, first."
"Risks?" Sidekick asked. Their eyes had already fallen to Villain's mouth, obscured by the dark. Villain nodded. "As in… life or death?"
"Oh, goodness, no," Villain said, and Sidekick smiled, laughing softly in relief. Villain shifted, and Sidekick thought they were pursing those soft-looking lips. "It is… very difficult for me to… not bite. When I am… excited."
Sidekick stared, a full-body shiver wracking them to the bone at the thought of Villain's teeth on their skin.
Villain leaned away slightly. Sidekick realized they were holding their breath and exhaled in a rush.
"But you wouldn't kill me?" Sidekick asked. Villain shook their head.
"No…" they said, "but, if I… consume your blood…"
They were both silent. Unfortunately, the movie was suddenly very loud. Villain looked down, found the remote under Sidekick's thigh, and grabbed it. Sidekick flinched at the near touch, their heart pounding. Villain met their eye, and Sidekick could hear their own breathing as they waited for Villain to explain.
"I would… feel you," they whispered in the new silence. "As long as your blood was inside of me, you wouldn't be able to hide from me." Sidekick gasped softly, cold blooming in their chest. "I would be able to find you in any crowd. I would be able to hear your heartbeat over a jet engine, and smell your scent from across the state."
Sidekick leaned back against the arm of the couch as Villain leaned closer. Sidekick was balling their fist into the waist of Villain's shirt before they knew it, trembling, their breathing ragged. Villain's back was to the TV now, and somehow, Sidekick could still find their eyes in the dark.
"That's the sexiest thing I've ever heard of," Sidekick mouthed. Villain huffed, a humorless little laugh, and Sidekick could taste their breath for the first time, sweet and musky. "You're telling me," Sidekick whispered, closing their eyes, "that I could be inside of you… and your body… would always feel me?"
The only sound in the room was the shifting of the couch and Sidekick's shallow breathing.
"Yes."
Sidekick rested both hands on Villain's waist. They were close. They were sharing a couch cushion now. Sidekick wondered how they smelled to Villain. Wondered if they could taste Sidekick's want on their tongue.
Sidekick felt the brushed of a cold, sweet breath across their lips. They shivered, then leaned forward and up.
Villain's lips were colder and softer than Sidekick had expected. They flinched back, just slightly, and Villain moved away a fraction of an inch. Sidekick grabbed Villain's waist in both hands, holding tightly, and kissed Villain harder.
Villain's hands were on the couch, somewhere on the back and the arm, off of Sidekick's body. Villain opened their mouth, and Sidekick met them halfway, stealing tastes and pulling Villain closer. Villain's cold body was pressing nearer, and Sidekick was vaguely aware of the knee between their thighs now.
Somehow, Sidekick knew they would have to push. Knew that Villain would try to play it safe. So Sidekick was the one who broke the kiss to taste their way along Villain's jaw and down the side of their neck.
Finally, mercifully, Villain grabbed the back of Sidekick's neck. A sound not unlike a growl rolled out of Villain's throat as Sidekick pulled them close and sucked their skin.
"You have no idea what that feels like," Villain all but whimpered. Sidekick's breath stuttered with the jolt of pleasure those words gave them.
"Then show me," Sidekick gasped, tilting their chin up in offering. The jolt of a thrill down their spine when Villain's breath cooled their throat was pure lightening. Sidekick shivered and melted back into the couch at the feeling of a cool, slick tongue sliding up their throat.
"Be prepared to stop me," Villain whispered, breathless. Sidekick could feel every sound on their wet skin, and it made breathing normally impossible. "I think I might get too enthusiastic about you."
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I have absolutely no idea why I hadn't planned on posting this.
---
Hero closed the fridge door again, empty-handed. Their options were meager and time-consuming, and they didn't have the energy tonight.
They limped to the cupboard and opened it, their eyes falling to the crackers. They pulled out the box, and it felt like they were on their last sleeve. They… could probably hold off. It was late enough by now they could just go to bed. They could save the crackers for breakfast. If they combined it with a coffee, they could probably make it through to the afternoon.
They set the crackers back in the cabinet and closed the door. They flicked off the lights as they hobbled past, keeping a hand along the wall for stability and guidance. Their stomach growled despondently, and they limped into their room. Falling into bed was a relief, and they were exhausted enough to fall asleep within half an hour.
Their front door opened.
Hero flinched awake, heart pounding, ears straining. Was it a dream? Were they imagining—
Someone was moving in their living room. In their kitchen.
Hero slowly got out of bed, trembling, breathing hard. They strained, avoiding putting their weight on their bad leg, and did their best to sneak to the door. They turned the handle carefully as the intruder opened their fridge. Ha, were they only here to steal groceries? Then they came to the wrong apartment.
The light was on in the kitchen. Hero braced a hand on the door, moving slowly, deliberately. Closer, quietly, so they could see the open fridge door—
Villain turned away from the fridge, grabbed a jug of milk off of the floor, and turned to put it in the fridge.
Hero stared as Villain packed eggs and ground beef and a head of lettuce and a bunch of carrots into the fridge. They looked to the front door, which was again closed, to the doorframe that looked perfectly intact. They looked to the grocery bags, to the meat and vegetables on the counter, next to the stove.
"Are you going to keep hiding like a shadow?" Villain asked, closing the fridge and putting away pasta and rice and condiments. Hero hesitated before limping into the light.
"What are you doing here?" Hero said lowly. They tried their best to stand upright, to be threatening. If the organization knew they'd let Villain into their home, there'd be hell to pay.
Villain paused, then looked over their shoulder at Hero.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" They shook their head, turning back to the cupboards. "Get off that ankle." Hero bristled.
"Get out of my house," they threatened. Villain wiggled their fingers and ooed mockingly.
"Oh, my, I'd better not cross the starving, injured, sleep-deprived Hero." They packed away a loaf of bread. "I'd be in for a real thrashing."
"I mean it!"
Villain closed the cabinet door sharply, looking directly at Hero. Hero flinched at the sharp sound and movement.
"Sit. Down."
"Make me," Hero whispered. They knew they weren't good for a fight right now, but if they didn't try—
Villain marched straight for them. Hero took up a modified stance, keeping their weight off of their bad leg, and when Villain got to them they struck. Villain deflected the blow with ease and then grabbed Hero sharply by the ear.
"Ow! Ow!"
"Shut up."
Villain pushed them back into a chair, then went for the stove. They turned on the heat and drizzled some oil Hero didn't own into a pan. Hero watched, a little mesmerized, as Villain started cutting up an onion. They did something weird, not cutting it all the way through on one side, and they didn't so much as sniffle as they chopped it up into little pieces. Then they dumped it into the pan, and Hero listened to it sizzle as Villain got started on a tomato.
"What are you doing?" Hero asked again. Villain barely spared a look over their shoulder.
"I'm making you something to eat." Hero blinked, breathing deeper around the tension in their chest.
"W-why?" Villain dumped the diced tomato into the pan next, then grabbed some spices Hero had never seen before.
"Because you can't heal a sprained ankle on crackers and soda."
Hero looked down at the tabletop. Why was Villain doing this? Was this a ploy? It had to be a trick; they wanted something. If Hero ate this, they'd owe Villain.
"Whatever it is you want me to do, I won't," they rasped.
"You mean eat a proper fucking meal?" Villain said smartly without turning. They stirred the veggies Oh, jeez, it already smelled great.
"This is a trick," Hero whispered.
"The only trick is getting the horse to drink water," Villain replied. Hero's stomach growled loudly at that moment. There was barely anything in the pan and it already smelled amazing.
"I, you can't fool me," Hero tried weakly. "I'm, you can't just buy me with food." Villain laughed, throwing their head back slightly as they did.
"Oh, baby," Villain chuckled, looking to Hero in the weak light, "even if you were right, you'd be wrong." They just kept chuckling, and Hero watched as they opened up a package of ground beef.
Hero watched, once again hypnotized by the sight of Villain's cooking. They added in the meat and continued to stir intermittently, adding more spices and smelling the pan along the way. The kitchen was soon full of the warm, mouth-watering scent of it, and Hero's stomach growled desperately.
There was a catch. There had to be a catch. Six hours ago, Villain was dancing around Hero like they were a mere pest. The fight had been over almost before it started, and Villain had walked all over them. And now they were here, in the middle of the night, chopping cilantro on their counter.
But, God, it smelled so good. And Hero was so hungry. When was the last time they'd had a proper meal? With more than two food groups?
"What do you want?" Hero rasped. "For the food?"
"I want you to stop asking me stupid questions." Hero shut their mouth, watching the quick way Villain roughly cut the greens. They were more precise with the lettuce next, and then they stirred the pan again before producing taco shells and warming them in the steam from the meat. A moment later, they opened a bag of shredded cheese.
Hero sat silently as Villain flicked off the heat and scooped the meat into the shells. They sprinkled on some cheese and cilantro and a more generous amount of lettuce, producing four tacos in quick succession. They set them down, dug a plate out from a cupboard, and then Hero was looking at four hot, loaded tacos right in front of them.
They didn't spare another thought to the cost, lifting up the first carefully. They took a bite, mindful of the loose way it was all packed.
It was amazing. Warm and just barely spicy and crisp and soft and crunchy and —
Hero took another bite, and another. They were halfway into the second when Villain sat down before them.
"At least someone appreciates my cooking," Villain grumbled. Hero slowed down, the reality coming back to them now. They swallowed what they had and put the taco back down, and Villain's sharp eyes snapped to their face. "If you ask me one more time what I want from you, I'm going to strangle you," they growled.
Hero snapped their mouth shut again.
"I don't want anything from you," Villain growled. "You need someone to take care of you. Because the people who employ you clearly don't." Hero frowned.
"They're good to me."
"Then why did they let you fight me on a sprained ankle?" Hero opened their mouth to mention the shortage of heroes lately. "Why do they continue to postpone your weigh-ins?" Hero faltered. How did Villain even know about that? "Why do they pay you in peanuts?" Hero gritted their teeth. "Why don't they send someone to check on you? To make sure you're okay? Why don't they have you in therapy?"
Hero looked down, their vision. They didn't know how to ask for a raise. And they'd called to see a therapist so many times. But nobody cared. Nobody ever took the time to care.
Hero sniffled, reaching up and covering their face. Villain shifted, and then Hero was being pulled into a tight hug.
"You're worth more than this," Villain hissed, their arms wrapped around Hero's head. "You don't deserve this. I can see it wearing you down."
Hero gritted their teeth, fighting the tears, but their throat was beyond sore now, and they sniffed and shook in Villain's tight hold.
"All I want," Villain rumbled, "is for you to get what you deserve. Because it's not those shit stains at the organization."
Hero whimpered softly, losing the fight with their tears. Villain let go and knelt down, and they wiped away Hero's tears with both hands as Hero sat and shook and sniffled pathetically. Villain looked over their face, hands on their cheeks, and Hero closed their eyes as Villain leaned in, kissing their forehead firmly.
"I meant it when I said I'm not fighting you anymore," Villain said against their skin. "I can't keep facing someone who doesn't deserve my wrath." They kissed Hero again, firmer this time, and Hero put their hands over Villain's. Villain pulled back, wiping at another tear. "Now eat your damned food," they whispered.
Hero nodded, sniffing, and slowly turned to their plate again. They continued to eat through the threat of tears, sniffing and struggling to swallow past the lump in their throat.
I have no idea what the word count here is but this feels kinda long. @_@
Also, I am so sorry for all of the exposition; I am trying to make it gentle but it feels like a lot! I think we're at/almost at the hump of this story, though! :0
cw: some peril, descriptions of vertigo and vomiting
first previous
---
Ten minutes.
That was no time at all.
The Skel. What in the name of Creation were the Skel doing in this sector? Paxie was here to monitor smuggling, to discourage unlicensed vessels from flying, to report unusual star activity.
The squad of five ships were not equipped for a skirmish with them.
"All ships!" Paxie ordered across the emergency channel. "Spool FTL drives and make heading for nearest fallback position! Defensive power allocations!" Ten minutes. Ten minutes! If the ships weren't all ready in time, if the Earthlings couldn't get ready in time—
They had no FTL travel—
"Ready automated fighters to scramble!" they added hurriedly.
The Earthlings. What were they going to do about the Earthlings.
Kime was scrambling, and she clamored in a rush through the narrow hallway. Paxie got out of her way as she bumped and clawed her way to the shuttle.
"Admiral!" Klte hissed. They looked back towards the med bay to see it looking at them, its helmet already back on its head. "The Earthlings!"
"I know," Paxie barked affirmatively. They couldn't leave this ship behind. But there was no way for it to possibly travel fast enough to keep up.
"Admiral," Harrison said, stepping into the hall. His eyes were wide, and his skin was pale. Paxie worried for a moment he might faint again. "How do your faster than light engines work?" Paxie blinked. They had no idea. And why was this a question to ask? Surely there was no way for the Earthlings to make an FTL drive in ten minutes with the technology available on this ancient ship. "Do they dematerialize?" he asked. "Do you use wormholes? Is it a space deforming drive?"
"It-it warps the shape of space," Klte hissed. Harrison turned sharply to look at them. Ramirez stepped into the hall.
"Does the space around the ship remain unchanged?" Harrison asked. "Is it distorted inside of the rings?"
What was the Earthling talking about? How did he know how FTL drives worked if Earth didn't have them?
"No," Klte said, their voice almost awed. "No, it's distorted in a bubble through the rings and projectors." Harrison turned sharply to Paxie.
"Admiral, we have to move this ship onto the belly of one of your vessels," Harrison said. "If your ships have ferrous hulls, we can clamp onto you to avoid falling off. But we have to begin maneuvers now."
"That's out of the question," Paxie breathed, blanching. The risk of the ship falling out of alignment and crossing the warp barrier.... "If you fall away, your ship will be smeared across open space."
"And what are the chances of the incoming vessel killing us?" Ramirez asked. She was stoic again. The look in her eyes was... haunting. She had the focus of any Xoixe. Of any apex.
Paxie looked again to Harrison. To Klte.
"Unless you have a ship large enough to dock our vessel, we don't have time to think of another solution," Ramirez said. And Paxie didn't. This mission had been routine, and the Earthling's ship was too large and awkwardly shaped to store on any of the Xoixe craft.
They opened a channel to Captain Eme.
"Captain, prepare The Water's Kiss to align and attach to the Earthling vessel, belly-to-belly."
"A-Admiral?!" Eme choked.
Ramirez and Harrison both sprinted to a different room in the ship.
"They know the risk, Captain, and it was their idea."
"This species is completely suicidal," Eme gasped. Paxie considered the conversation Ramirez and Kime had just had.
"I'm inclined to agree," they breathed. Then they looked up to Klte. "Into the shuttle, we have to get back."
"Aye, sir," it said, already getting down on all eight and running headlong for the airlock.
Adina could hear Paxie making their massive way back to the shuttle from the gear room. John swore again, yanking on the thermal regulation layer, and Adina finally managed to get her damned cryo suit off of her body.
"What a fuckin' day," John gasped, getting the tight-fitting undersuit on and zipped up. Adina just laughed bitterly. She'd barely gotten two minutes with the damn IV before she had to yank it out of her arm again.
John shrugged the top half of his spacesuit on just as Adina heard the low-pitched thump of the outer airlock door sealing. A moment later, there was a deep clang as the alien shuttle detached. "Solstice!" Adina barked, yanking her thermal layer into place. The computer chimed. "Override collision controls and roll ship 180 degrees!"
"Right away, Doctor Adina Ramirez," the computer said in its slow, melodic, feminine voice. The ship immediately began to tilt.
"Shit," John hissed, stumbling as he stood on one leg, stepping into the bottom half of his suit.
Once John finished suiting up, he helped Adina get clamped down. They both waddled to the bridge.
"Which chair do I sit in?" Adina cried.
"How many sim hours did you log?" John asked. Adina stuttered, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to remember.
"Um, uh, uh, th-three hundred and f-forty!"
"You're on comms," John said, pointing to the first chair on the left. He took the one mounted facing forward, and she thanked whatever the fuck was left of God that it wasn't up to her to fly this thing.
There was already a hail request open, and when Adina answered it, she got video of the purpley-green Xoixe.
"Earthlings, you have six minutes before the Skel arrive!" the thing boomed. John swore.
"Adina, are you buckled in?"
"N-no!"
"Get buckled, we have to move!"
Adina stumbled and grasped, her breathing coming loud and hard. The buckle was large, made to be used even with the massive spacesuit gloves, and she was able to get strapped in even as the ship kept spinning.
"I'm in!"
The ship lurched downwards, and Adina squeezed her eyes shut against the vertigo.
"Collision shield disabled!" someone in the room on the alien ship cried.
"Away vessel successfully docked!" another announced.
"FTL fully spooled! Bubble zone partially obstructed!"
"Lieutenant Harrison, you have to move faster!" the alien captain cried. Adina could barely hear them over the sound of her breathing. She kept her eyes closed, trying not to remember how close the helmet was to her face, trying not to think about what would happen if they got stuck here or sliced apart in the warp bubble, trying not to think about how it felt like she was going to throw up again.
"If I hit you too hard, I'll bounce off and lose my alignment!" John yelled back over his shoulder.
"Harrison, we don't have time, I promise you will not bounce off of our hull!" the captain yelled back. "Clear the bubble zone, now!"
John swore loudly and Adina cried out when he punched the maneuvering thrusters. It felt like they were free-falling, the entire ship rushing down faster and faster, flinging her stomach into her lungs, and then they slammed to a stop so fast that Adina's teeth cracked shut.
"Bubble zone clear!"
"Engage drive!"
The entire ship seemed to yank to the right, like some kind of twisted roller coaster and rubber band hybrid. Then everything shuddered all at once, and then there was aching, deafening stillness.
Adina could hear her panicked breathing like it was blasting through an amp right next to her face. Her head was spinning like a top but she knew in her body the cabin was unnaturally still. Her breathing picked up — she heard it more than felt it — and suddenly she was scrambling at the latch of her helmet, her gloved fingers clawing at the bottom of her visor.
She got the helmet off in time, but forgot about the seat buckle. The channel was still open in front of her as she coughed up bile. Her ears were ringing. She didn't feel any better at all.
"Adina?" John said. He held her face in his gloved hands, suddenly standing next to her. "Hey, can you stand?" Adina closed her eyes. She would have shaken her head, but even the thought made her want to wretch again.
"N, hh, n, nn-nn...."
"Stay right here, then," John uttered, letting go of her. "We seem stable, so I'm gonna grab the IV again." Adina couldn't speak, and she couldn't move her head, so she just kept trying to breathe.
---
By the time Paxie got out of their suit, The Water's Kiss was well away from where it had come across the Earth vessel. Once again in open hallways, free of the environment suit, Paxie had abandoned propriety and sprinted for the command room.
They ran full-out, their claws scraping against the decks, their blood rushing. Everything was sharp. Their scales buzzed, and they were keenly aware of how hard their muscles were pumping to move them like this. Their body was alight, electrified. Their mind was focused, the Earthling pair their only thought.
They burst into the command room and slowed, their scales itching. They scraped their claws against the deck, panting hard, eyes snapping to the front of the bridge. There was an open channel, and Captain Ramirez was slumped in the display, breathing hard as Lieutenant Harrison worked around them.
Paxie relaxed, and the weight of fatigue settled over them. They padded heavily to the captain's chair. Eme flinched when they came into view and hurriedly vacated the seat. Paxie laid down in it, their chest heaving, and laid their claws down flat.
The Earthlings survived the initial jump. Good.
"Status report," Paxie huffed.
"The Earthling vessel is secured to the bottom hull, sir," Eme explained. "Our Ghost volunteered to engineer the dampener settings to keep them stable. We've evacuated the bottom two decks to keep our personnel from getting sick, but…." Eme glanced at the screen. Ramirez was trembling, and Harrison was wiping their face with the same thing they had given him earlier.
"She'll be okay," Lieutenant Harrison said. It felt all too familiar, to have Ramirez looking close to death and Harrison dismissing the matter. Perhaps it was another quirk of the species. Another avenue of their… self-destructive attitude. "We didn't suffer any damage during the maneuvers, thankfully," Harrison added. He stooped down to look into the feed from over Ramirez's shoulder. "We didn't hurt anything, did we?"
"N-no," Eme said. He was keeping his voice very proper. "No damage was sustained during maneuvers, and we did not have to scramble any automated fighters to escape." He looked again to Paxie. "All four vessels reported clean spool and initiation. We'll arrive at the fallback position five minutes behind them."
"It's going to be a long five minutes for them," Paxie mused. Maybe it felt closer than it was, but Paxie had been terrified the new aliens were going to get The Water's Kiss killed, or die in the retreat, themselves. If it was them waiting at the fallback position for a ship to arrive, they were sure they'd be inconsolably worried.
"Captain Ramirez, Lieutenant Harrison," Paxie said. Harrison looked up, but Ramirez only grunted. She was clearly in bad shape. And she wasn't getting better the way Harrison had. Paxie swallowed thickly and straightened up taller. "On behalf of the Interstellar Federation of Alliance, I, Admiral Uten Paxie, offer you and your species sanctuary. Under Article six of the Orphaned Body protocol, you all will be afforded medical care, nutrition, and housing without the need to prove citizenship of the Federation."
Harrison was staring at Paxie now. He curled one side of his lips upward, and chuffed softly. Ramirez seemed to be barely lucid. Paxie flattened their ears.
"As the commanding officer of this squadron, and your current head of authority, I'm authorizing an extended rest for the two of you," they went on. Harrison's expression went back to something more neutral. "You are both excused from any further duties for the day, and are not required to check in at a specific time."
Harrison nodded his head. He looked more serious now, more focused, the way Ramirez had earlier. He kept his hand on Ramirez's shoulder the entire time.
"Will do, Admiral," he said. He then gently patted Ramirez's shoulder. "We'll… hail you when we're feeling better."
"See that you do," Paxie said. "Rest well."
Harrison nodded again. Paxie nodded to the communications officer, who cut the feed. Then they took a long, deep breath.
"Announce ship-wide rest," they exhaled. "Keep half again extra medical staff on standby."
"Yes, sir," Eme said, opening the ship-wide channel.
---
Paxie roused with a start when their door chimed. They checked the time. It had been almost seven hours since rest had been announced. They still had another hour left.
They clambered up and out of their low bed, then padded over and hit the floor control for the door. It slid open, revealing a Qomo officer.
"The Earthlings have roused," it announced in the Xoixe language. "They've requested council with you and a highly skilled xenomedic at your convenience." Paxie quirked their jaw.
"Has something gone wrong? Are they injured?"
"No, sir," it said, "Captain Ramirez seems to be fairing better, already. But they wish to discuss the lives of their crew."
That was right. Ramirez and Harrison were the only crew members who had been thawed from their cryonic sleep, but there were more Earthlings than them on board. They would all need to be awoken as soon as possible. Keeping any creature in such a state, let alone for so terribly long, was absurdly inhumane.
"Very well. Rouse Ensign Kime and Lieutenant Tapide."
"Aye, sir."
Once Paxie was refreshed and the two xenomedics were gathered, the three entered the bridge. There was an open channel, already, and the second captain stood and relinquished the chair to Paxie. Paxie nodded their head and padded over, but they watched the feed distractedly.
Nobody was in frame. They could tell they were looking at a part of the ship near the helm station, but all there was to see was metal and wiring.
"Captain Ramirez?" Paxie said. They switched on the translation protocol when their words weren't repeated. "Lieutenant Harrison?"
There was a metal clatter. One of the Earthlings said something too quiet for the translation protocol to pick up. Then Harrison came into view. He looked pinker in the face now, and his eyes seemed clearer. He bore his teeth widely.
"Admiral, hi," he said. He was very close to the screen, and the untranslated version of his voice was loud. "How did you sleep?"
Paxie huffed a laugh.
"I think I should be asking you that," they said. "Is Captain Ramirez okay?"
"She's much better now," Harrison said, looking off-screen in the direction he'd come. Then he looked back to them. "She slept like a rock and got some water in her, so now she actually looks like a scientist."
"I can hear you!" Ramirez's voice shouted from off-screen. She sounded agressive, but Harrison was laughing, baring his teeth. Paxie quirked their ears. He didn't seem to be worried about confrontation or repercussions.
"Anyway, Admiral, we have a few questions," Harrison said, hiding his teeth again. He moved, and seemed to lower himself before the screen. Perhaps resting in that odd chair design. He was serious now. "We have around two hundred people on this vessel, six of which are presumed dead."
Paxie jolted, eyes wide. "What happened?" they demanded. "How long have they been dead?"
"They failed to wake from cryo sleep."
Paxie stared. Eight creatures had been awoken from cryo sleep? And only two of them had survived? They knew cryogenic stasis was cruel, but to be so dangerous?
"What is the state of the six individuals?" Lieutenant Tapide asked. She wasn't Xoixe, but a species with long, bright green and blue feathers across her body, small, delicate hands, and a smaller, more delicate voice.
"Once they fail to wake, the system re-suspends the body," Harrison explained. "The hope there is that they'll be preserved enough to resuscitate, if it's an option."
"Then they haven't been dead long enough to degrade?" Tapide asked. She was already going through information on her tablet beside Kime.
"That's the hope," Harrison said. He lowered his voice now, looking away. "We haven't exactly… checked on them. In person. But the computer says they're still viable."
Paxie felt a pang in their gut. Harrison wasn't looking at the feed now, and he had dropped his voice. Nobody knew the body language of these creatures yet, but this was not what they had observed as Harrison's normal demeanor.
Two hundred Earthlings. And six of them were possibly dead. What may have been a small wound to the Xoixe was a great blow to the Earthlings. No planet, no bearings, no familiar species, hunted in open space, and with barely enough of them left to survive.
Paxie rested their weight further back, dizzied with the idea. They could have very possibly witnessed an extinction event had the Earth ship not made it away with The Water's Kiss, had they not made such a risky and unsound exit plan. Not just the death of intelligent life, but the death of an intelligent species.
It was a difficult prospect to swallow.
"We're unable to dispatch a medpod to you during our jump," Tapide said. Paxie looked to her. She was especially unflappable among her people, they knew this, but it always took Paxie off-guard. "How accessible are your cryogenic compatriots?"
"Uh, well," Harrison said, glancing between Paxie, Kime, and Tapide. Paxie already knew Tapide would fit in the Earthling ship better than they did, but still not as well as the Earthlings. And since their spaces seemed to be made compact on purpose, they could only imagine what the stasis array looked like. "We would probably want to remove the pods from our stasis chamber. We can take them wherever you need to work on them once we've… landed?" Harrison raised his shoulders and twisted his hands to be downside-up, then relaxed again. "I don't know how it works."
"Once our jump is concluded, we can dock properly and shuttle your pods aboard," Paxie explained. "The Water's Kiss should have plenty of resources to evaluate your kin, and determine their revivability."
Harrison nodded, looking down. "Okay," he said. "How long until the jump is over?" Paxie turned and looked to the engineering station, manned by the off-rotation crew member. Eme knew their name, but Paxie didn't.
"We have another six hours," the engineer announced. Paxie didn't let it show how disappointed they were to hear that. They couldn't send or receive any messages while jumping, which meant they weren't going to get any further answers, and couldn't even consult command.
This was probably the worst First Contact in recorded history.
"Alright," Harrison said. He got to his feet again. "I guess we'll see you in six hours, then."
"Very well," Paxie said. "If you have further needs, do not hesitate to hail us again."
"Thanks," Harrison said, and he bore his teeth. He reached for the screen, but then stopped suddenly. "Oh, and before I forget," he said. "Thank you for sending the-the Ghost over."
Paxie tilted their head.
"The Ghost is there?"
Harrison raised the fur patches over his eyes.
"Oh," he said, turning to where he had come onscreen from. "Uh…." He glanced to the screen again.
Paxie heaved a long sigh. They hadn't cleared the Ghost to go aboard the Earthling vessel, but they supposed they hadn't specifically barred it, either. This Ghost wriggled through regulations like water through a leash.
The video feed blurred briefly, and then Harrison moved aside. A transparent, blue-gray mass waved into frame, seeming briefly to obscur the video with a sparse star field.
"Greetings, Admiral," the translation protocol said. Paxie withheld a laugh.
"Hello, Weak Force. You were supposed to wait to be introduced." Paxie couldn't help but notice their words weren't translated to the Earthling language, despite the translation protocol still being active.
"These creatures took my appearance with great grace," the automated voice said. "They understand better than we expected, and did not require coaching to comprehend me."
"Oh, that's good," Paxie said. When Harrison had… fainted, well…. Paxie wasn't worried now, because he seemed fine. But he would have been if Ramirez had been the one on screen, and Harrison remained hidden.
"Admiral," the voice said again. The blur on the video solidified somewhat, obscuring much of the background in a faint haze. "I have been searching through the data on this vessel, and I have discovered two important things." Paxie nodded for it to continue. "Number One: The Earthling vessel, The Solstice, had its course artificially altered, beyond the influence of celestial bodies or the intention of the crew." Paxie blinked, but before they could ask about it— "Number Two: These Earthlings are the species self-designated as Human, currently known as the Five-Fingered Ones, from the planet Areterra."
Areterra? Paxie knew that planet.
"They're from the same planet as the Mauilen," Kime gasped.
Paxie's eyes widened.
"That's excellent news," Paxie said. They looked to Tapide and Kime. "We'll need to adjust for environmental shift, but this should mean we know their chemical biology already."
"Correct, sir," Kime said, typing eagerly on her tablet. "We'll want to run tests first, but we should know then what medicines and foods will work for them."
"Admiral," the voice said. Paxie looked to the screen again. "It would be prudent for the Federation to treat the route alteration of this vessel as sabotage."
Paxie felt almost cold to hear those words. Sabotage. But it seemed as likely as anything else. But if these Humans were from Areterra, then there was more to know here.
Areterra's biological lexicon had no example of a species like the Humans. So there was less hope that their twenty-six million year mission clock was a malfunction. And it would cause some unprecedented administrative strife, assuming it was accurate. Did it mean they were truly an orphaned species then? Perhaps it was up to if they could survive the current climate of their planet? If it truly had been so long as that? Would the Mauilen have any responsibility over them, or would these two species be treated as entirely independent? Did the Maulien have any responsibility to home the remaining Humans and the method by which they rehabilitated their numbers, or was that weight solely on the Federation?
Paxie shook their head subtly. These were not questions for a patrol admiral.
"Thank you, Weak Force," Paxie said.
"Signing off," the voice said. The feed cut, then, leaving the bridge in silence.
"This is exciting," Kime uttered. Paxie wasn't so sure. And they couldn't help but wonder how old the Skel were, and if they were or had ever been capable of sabotage like this.
"Notify Gunnery Sergeant Appi," Paxie said. "When rest is concluded, she will be to meet me in my office."
Also @those-damn-snippets because I think you might enjoy?
allergens: spicy
This might be in the top 3 spiciest things I've posted. Maybe. Whoops. (not sorry)
---
Henchman watched Supervillain work, still wearing the little, conical party hat from hours earlier. "My first birthday!" it read. A fun little joke for a party of two. A sweet celebration of a year of service.
Henchman watched Supervillain pour over maps, schematics, finances, reports. Whatever it was she was doing now. Planning the next move. Preparing for the next step.
A year ago, Henchman had submitted her pathetic little resumé and interviewed via phonecall in a public park (by far the strangest interview she'd ever had). She started that same day, and looking back on it now, she better understood the bizarreness of that first meeting. Of the way Supervillain got Henchman disoriented and vulnerable in some unfamiliar alley before exposing herself to view. Testing her tolerance before letting her in.
Supervillain had been terrifying in that moment, boxing Henchman into a dead end, silhouetted by the afternoon sun. She had been a goddess. A nightmare. A force of nature. Henchman's vision of the job changed then from processing inventory orders to dragging bodies into dumpsters. And then two hours later, she was calling a dry cleaner and disputing an outrageous charge.
A year. How had they only known each other for a year? Henchman couldn't even imagine what her day would be like now without Supervillain. It was like trying to remember how she lived without a phone. Every morning she made breakfast for the two of them, then started making calls and arrangements. Every night they sat down to dinner, talking about all of the things that had moved and happened during the day. Supervillain moved around her all the while between, making motions and pulling strings, orbiting like some personal Jupiter caught up in Henchman's tiny gravity. Sometimes, there was an operation, and Henchman paced anxiously at their little base, their little home, praying and praying that Hero or Superhero didn't notice. Didn't try to intervene. Didn't leave Supervillain in a broken mess, calling Henchman to come get her, to scoop her limp, shimmering, dripping body into the back seat of their beat-up sedan.
Yes. Looking back on it now, even after such a short amount of time, Henchman had been completely smitten. She had fought the man on the other end of that phone like she was some kind of knight raising a sword at a dragon. She smiled at the memory now, even stifled a chuckle, as Supervillain scribbled something on a sheet of paper.
Henchman watched Supervillain now. Her skin was damp with her concentration. If she wasn't focused enough on her shape, she would always seem to melt a little but. Like ice cream. Just enough to soak the clothes she was wearing and the seat or the bed she was on, but not enough to fall apart. Sometimes, it was cute. Sometimes, it was terrifying.
It had been a long year. A long year of getting to know Supervillain. Of learning her. Of figuring out her needs and learning to anticipate them. Realizing why Henchman was doing the kind of work she was doing. Why she was always talking to the dry cleaner or the internet company, why she was the one who talked during their back alley deals, why she was the one who delivered letters and thank-you cards. Supervillain was powerful. In a fight, she was terrifying, a whirlwind, a natural disaster made flesh. But she was also scared. Scared of people. Scared of rejection. Scared of loneliness.
Henchman thumbed the elastic strap of her party hat where it crossed under her jaw. Supervillain had gotten her a cake and everything. Those watery lips of hers, dark and full, had pulled into the biggest smile Henchman had ever seen. Henchman couldn't be sure, even now. But it seemed to her that there was some amount of fear that Supervillain was always holding that had slipped away, just for the party.
Watching her now, maybe it was there again. Some underlying anxiety. Some twinge of a secret terror. They had been together a year, and yet there was still some part of Supervillain that thought Henchman… didn't want to stay? Didn't want to be here? Was afraid of her?
"My first birthday!" That's what her hat said. She wondered for the first time if any of Supervillain's other relationships, friendly or otherwise, had lasted this long. "My first birthday!" "My first friend!"
…What about, "My first love!"
Supervillain was different. Henchman couldn't read her like she read other people, not exactly. But there had been that underscoring tenderness and affection at the party that had made Henchman cry. That had made her glad it was just the two of them. That had made her wish this day wouldn't end.
Maybe Supervillain did think Henchman might still leave.
So maybe… maybe Henchman should let Supervillain know why that wasn't going to happen.
She stepped forward. Walked quietly toward the desk. Supervillain looked up, with all of her graceful long lines and angles. The water on her skin shimmered in the warm overhead light. Henchman came to a stop by her chair.
"So," she said. Supervillain watched her. She reached up and tapped her nail against the party hat. "It's still my birthday." Supervillain smiled.
"I suppose that it is," she chuckled. Henchman smiled back.
"I was hoping…" She blushed. A year ago, she wouldn't have had the guts for this. "I was hoping for a birthday favor." Supervillain turned to face her, a bit more serious now.
"Name it," she commanded gently. Henchman blushed a little more, but she didn't look away.
"I was hoping… and, you can say no, I promise. But. I was hoping… for… a birthday, um, kiss."
Supervillain's eyes widened. A drop of water ran from her temple down to her jaw and over her throat.
"You can say no," Henchman assured her. Supervillain opened and closed her mouth, a little bit like a stunned fish.
"Yes," she whispered, so soft and so… delicate, that Henchman almost didn't hear it. Something in her chest flinched at the excited thrill that flared through her.
For a moment, Henchman was going to ask if she was sure. But the wide look in her eyes, the trio of water drops that ran down her face, and the way her eyebrows furrowed in that same way they always did when Supervillain was afraid she was asking for too much, answered Henchman's question for her.
Henchman was suddenly shaking a little as she reached forward, resting a hand on Supervillain's wet shoulder. She leaned in, and Supervillain tilted her head up, closing her eyes. Henchman smiled, giddy and pleased, and kissed her lips to Supervillain's.
Supervillain was warm, even as her shirt got wetter in Henchman's hand. Her lips were soft, and they still tasted a little bit like frosting. Henchman's heart was thumping in her chest, and she could hear Supervillain breathing heavier, could feel it across her lips. Henchman leaned in a little more, tipping Supervillain's head back just a little further, and tilted her head to the side. She kissed Supervillain slightly harder, cupped her other hand to the side of Supervillain's wet neck, felt her pulse strong and quick through Supervillain's veins. Henchman huffed, or maybe it was more like a sigh, something not the least bit decent or polite in her chest flashing its claws.
Henchman held Supervillain tighter, pulling back just long enough to suck in a deep breath, then kissed her harder. Supervillain hummed, or maybe moaned, and a wet hand was suddenly on the top of Henchman's shoulder, fingertips pulling her closer as Supervillain's breaths turned raspy. Henchman might have smiled normally, might have laughed to herself at the way Supervillain was still trying not to impose. Even as her skin turned hot and sodden, even as her heart raced and her chest heaved, she was still scared to ask too much. Still scared, maybe, of rejection.
Henchman's very thoughts darkened, shooting down two paths. On the one hand, she suddenly wanted to give Supervillain the whole world, beaten and subjugated and bowing down to her glorious, watery visage, never to refuse her again. On the other, she wanted to pull Supervillain into her chest, into her very body, so Supervillain could see herself through Henchman's eyes and know that she could never, ever reject her.
Henchman dipped her tongue experimentally between Supervillain's lips, and she shuddered and opened her mouth. Henchman groaned, sliding her tongue in along Supervillain's, fumbling to get herself into Supervillain's lap, swiping the party hat back to slacken the string under her jaw.
Supervillain's pants and the chair both squelched, warm, watery liquid soaking into Henchman's clothes every last place she pressed against her. Henchman cupped Supervillain's jaw with both hands, holding her like she was made of spun glass even as she kissed her breathless. Supervillain pulled away suddenly, gasping hoarsely for air, and Henchman blinked open her eyes just long enough to catch the long, graceful lines of her throat, water running over her skin in rivulets. Those claws in Henchman's chest flashed again, and a burning curiosity overwhelmed her, and she bent down and dragged her tongue up the swell of Supervillain's throat.
As Supervillain gasped aloud, her chest heaving, her body shaking, Henchman marveled at the salty-sweet taste of her. Even here, she tasted faintly like the birthday cake they'd shared. Interesting. How far did this go?
Supervillain swallowed thickly, and Henchman noticed with alarm the wet sound of her breaths. All at once, she seemed to slam back down into her body, realizing what she was doing. That she had invited herself onto her boss' lap, into her boss' mouth, that Supervillain's hands were shaking on her waist, that this was unprofessional, that she might love Supervillain, but that this was a job, this house was their workplace—
"I'm so sorry," Henchman gasped, pulling away—
Supervillain's hands turned into stone, pressing into Henchman's sides and back, immobilizing her. A thrill raced up Henchman's body so fiercely it nearly knocked the wind completely out of her. When Supervillain's grip softened again, Henchman didn't go anywhere. She breathlessly watched Supervillain shake her head, her jaw working, but all that came out were watery gasps and whimpers. Supervillain's body seemed to become wetter still, like she was thinking very hard about something, and Henchman realized she was trying to talk.
Henchman… had kissed her senseless.
Those claws flashed again. Henchman watched Supervillain's throat work, and this time, when she leaned in and licked, long and with panting breaths over wet skin, drawing a shiver and a whine up and out of Supervillain's throat, she was in complete possession of herself. She did it again, and the sound Supervillain made was so high, so thready, that those claws almost took control again. Maybe they did. Because Henchman started to wonder just how much like a puddle Supervillain could be. And just how many places Henchman could taste sugar on her.
When Adina had first woken up after the jump away from the Skel, she had been too confused as to where she was to even stand. She had expected to see the bunkbeds from the training facility, to look around and see blue, concrete walls, to see Patricia in the bed to her left.
Instead, she was in a claustrophobic, cold medbay, with John seemingly dumped over the gurney next to her, facing her, his hand slipped off from the drip control of her IV. It had taken her twenty minutes to climb out of bed, and she'd let John sleep.
She ran ship-wide diagnostics, checked the status and population of the stasis chamber, and was halfway through double-checking inventory when there had been an unsettling, crackling sound over the PA system. For a horrible moment, she expected to see a Xenomorph slowly creeping around the corner towards her.
"Doctor Adina Ramirez," the computer had said. But then it didn't elaborate. Which just creeped her out even more.
"Y-yes?" she'd uttered, looking around, the vacuum-sealed peanut butter and jelly meal in her hand the only weapon she had to defend herself with.
"This is the Ghost from the Arkinu vessel speaking," the computer had said. Adina blinked, looking to the hallways, then behind herself, then at the speaker above the door. "It is nice to meet you."
"Uh," she uttered. "You… too. I didn't realize you could transmit into our PA system."
"I am actually tapped directly into your computer," it said. "I am aboard."
Adina froze. That was the creepiest thing yet.
"Can I show myself to you?" it asked. It spoke in the familiar voice of the computer control, but it didn't match the cadence or word choice. She briefly considered how unwise it was to say yes. But then she was more scared of what would happen if she said no.
"Okay," she uttered, her voice trembling.
She waited. It took her a long moment to notice the hallway was glowing slowly brighter with a faint, blueish light. And then a floating, sheer… blob filled the hallway.
It looked like water with some milk splashed in, just enough to fog it up. But her brain told her that if she touched it, it would feel like chiffon or fine lace. There were tiny sparkles of light suspended in it, like fruit chunks in jello, or like glitter in plastic, and they faded in and out gradually as it moved closer.
"Wow," she breathed, taking a step back. Whatever it was, it was big. It had come into the room now, but it still filled the hallway, too.
"I hope my countenance does not distress you," the computer said. Adina huffed a laugh, smirking, looking up and down and through the thing.
"Be not afraid," she muttered to herself. She leaned forward, trying to peer into it as curiosity started to win out. She couldn't see any organs, or any solid internal structures at all, for that matter. Was this thing like a jellyfish? It seemed a bit more like a huge amoeba. But there was no way something so big — and so intelligent — was single-celled. Or was there? Who was she to say what limits there were on life? She was in outer space traveling faster than the speed of light, and this was the third intelligent species of alien she'd met today, and it was talking to her through her ship's computer in perfect English. "Wow," she breathed.
"Are you well?" it asked. Adina nodded, putting a hand on her cheek.
"I'm good," she said. "I, I actually have a lot of questions."
"Please, ask."
Adina nodded, fidgeting with the meal pack, deciding where to start.
"You're a Ghost?" she asked.
"Yes."
"As in the spirit of a living thing?"
"No," it said. "That is… a translation inconsistency." It shimmered, the little lights suspended in its body rippling in waves. Adina took a slight step away, eyes wide with awe. "You do not have a good word for my kind," it said. "But for your sake, perhaps a better word to use would be, 'robot'."
"A robot?" Adina muttered, touching her fingertips to her lip. Then her eyes blew wide. "So you're not organic?"
"Partially correct," it said. "Technically speaking, my kind are silicate-based lifeforms."
"Woah," Adina breathed. This blew everything she knew out of the water. Theoretically speaking, complex silicon-based molecules like DNA would be more stable at high temperatures, far too high to be standing in the room with the thing right now. Was that part of why it seemed so ephemeral? But then wouldn't that make it even less stable? But clearly, it was fine at this temperature, so maybe her understanding of chemistry was wrong? Or just ignorant. And were they robots because they used silicon instead of carbon like a microchip, or was there more to it? And what was the line it was crossing between robot and lifeform? Did they eat? Reproduce? Were they more like nanite colonies? Was that an ignorant conclusion to draw? What did it mean anyway by robo—
A sliver of shape slipped towards her, like a tiny tentacle pushing out of a thin membrane to reach for her.
"Would you like to touch me?" the computer asked.
Adina looked down at the offered… appendage. It wasn't very dense with the lights, or even very opaque. She rubbed her fingers on her palm, the vacuum-packed meal heavy in her other hand, gauging how clean her skin was.
"I have oils, on my skin," she said. She looked up, but with no eyes, it was difficult for her to find a point to look at it. "Some species, even on our planet, find human touch to be caustic…."
"You will not hurt me," it said, reaching slightly further out. "And I will not hurt you." Adina nodded, then looked again to the appendage, which was easier to focus on than the mass of tiny lights suspended in the hallway and most of the room.
She set the food down, and then slowly reached out with both hands, cupping them together. The Ghost reached down in a smooth arc, and it laid a length of the little tentacle across her palms. It was light as air, almost too light to feel. She carefully held it with one hand, and then caressed the length of the tentacle with her other pointer finger. It was dry and smooth, and she pet it again, trying to figure out its texture. It was difficult to tell. She gently ran the back of her finger over it, but the hairs on her skin didn't help.
"Do you, ah," she uttered, and then she looked up at no part of it in particular, "do you mind if I touch you with my lip? I won't bite you, but there's a chance that I have germs—"
"I cannot contract organic diseases," it assured her. Then it moved, sliding the appendage up along its surface smoothly, until it was level with her mouth. She blinked, then leaned forward and grasped it gently. She rubbed it slowly against her bottom lip.
It was completely and utterly smooth. Moreso than hairless skin, than polished stone, than glass. It almost didn't make sense. She blinked, marveling, and carefully let go.
"Wow," she said again.
"I have questions of you, as well," it said.
---
Rest had concluded, and Paxie considered Gunnery Sergeant Appi's words carefully.
"Popular opinion on my planet would dictate that you do not trust these people," she said in her rasping voice. Her environment suit was thin for casual wear around the ship, and the translation protocol speaker was as crisp and clear as any. "The end of their legacy is nothing but war machines and poisons in the land itself."
"You think these Humans are from that time?" Paxie asked. Appi lowered her nose, her large eyes sharp.
"Based on what I could see of their ship, yes. The construction resembles one of their more formidable weapon-vehicles."
"Do you have any record of an ideological shift?" Paxie asked. They didn't want to believe Ramirez and Harrison were war-like. They seemed nice, despite their self-abuse.
"Their archeological record is full of weapons for thousands of years," Appi rasped. She flexed her claws subtly, but Paxie could see the agitation she was trying to hide. "Admittedly, it is difficult to decompress their legacy. But, Admiral…" Appi looked directly into Paxie's eyes. "This species was the sixth major extinction event of our planet."
Paxie resisted the strong desire to pin their ears. It was their job to know and accept the facts. But this was an ugly revelation. They had hoped the Human people were a miracle, a sample of the past so distant it could only be extraordinary. But according to Appi… they were destruction.
Perhaps Paxie should have expected as much, with the way they treat their own bodies.
"Thank you, Gunnery Sergeant," Paxie uttered with a nod. "Your insight is deeply informative."
"I'm sorry it's so morose," Appi said, nodding back. "I know this is an awkward situation."
And it was. If Humans were going to be harmful to the Federation or any planet they were hosted on, then it would be better not to offer them citizenship. But if they were legally an orphaned species, then the Federation had no choice but to home them.
This was exactly Uten's luck. They were never going to get a second chance at First Contact.
"I appreciate your candor," Paxie uttered. Appi flicked one ear.
"Speaking of…" she said. Paxie perked their ears. "This species, though long extinct, does represent a significant keystone in our planet's behavioral sciences," she said. "If it isn't too bold or unorthadox, I would like to meet them."
Paxie nodded. "I'm sure we can arrange that," they said. "They may be curious of you, as well."
"I'm sure," Appi rasped.
---
There was nothing special to do to prepare for jump to end, apparently. Adina was expecting to have to buckle in, but it seemed all she and John had to do was brace a little bit. After a moment, everything seemed to tug to the left and keep moving, as if they were set down on some slow-moving track. And then it was over. The deafening, unnerving stillness was gone now. It had been so long that Adina had convinced herself it was part of space travel.
John delicately maneuvered the ship to dock properly with The Water's Kiss as Adina went down to decouple the resuspended pods. She… wasn't looking forward to it. But it had to be her. Because John was close friends with one of the unresponsive engineers.
She stepped into the stasis chamber and stopped. She had seen this place before, of course, when she climbed out of her pod earlier. But she wasn't exactly properly aware of her surroundings at that point. And before that, everyone had climbed into their pods in the big research building on Earth. So she'd never gotten the chance to truly familiarize herself with the real thing.
The pods were arranged in a honeycomb pattern, and several motorized platforms could move side-to-side and up or down to handle each pod as they were carefully ejected. Either during wakeup, or during… removal. Adina climbed onto one of the platforms and looked up and across, spotting the six lights that winked a slow, desolate red.
The two xenobiologists happened to be nearer the door. Everyone was arranged alphabetically, but these two both had D names. Adina got the platform in place and locked it with the stiff lever before turning to the first pod.
"RESUSPENDED" it said across the screen at the feet of the pod. It was a polite way of saying, "Died on wakeup, but at least they're frozen again now." Adina really hoped these aliens had tech like Star Trek, and could just revive people with a couple pleasant clicks and beeps. She used the screen to shift the power from ship-side to battery-side, keeping an eye on the switch that would do so manually if the computer had trouble. But there was no issue. A low-pitched beep signaled the change, and another beep declared the systems were running properly off of the new power source.
Adina grabbed the big release lever for the pod and forced it down with a grunt. The pod trembled, but was otherwise fine. She took up the grab bar around the bottom of the control panel and slid the pod out, mindful of the wheels that automatically folded out as it got closer to the end. She locked the wheels once it was in a good position on the platform, then moved on to the next pod.
By the time she had locked the fourth pod in place, John had docked with the Xoixe ship and the xenomedics were on board. She had paused for this pod, reading the name again. This one was John's friend.
Thinking about it… they didn't want to try to revive him first. The first attempt was the most likely to fail. But that also meant they couldn't risk the two xenobiologists. They should probably both go last, in fact. Then there was another engineer, and another biologist. Both of them were better trained and qualified in their fields than Adina and John, which was why the computer had tried to wake them up, first. Adina let out a shaking sigh, bracing her hands on the grab bar.
Raj Joshi. She'd read earlier that his GPA in university had been .2 higher than John's. It was probably why he had been picked first. She didn't want to think about how John could be mentally punishing himself right now, especially if the aliens couldn't revive him….
"Captain Ramirez?"
Adina looked behind herself suddenly. Paxie was in the room with her, standing upright on two thick legs. They looked a bit like a bear, or maybe a tiger, the way they held their arms. Adina hadn't realized their hips could make the adjustment to standing upright. Paxie blinked their four eyes at her, which were currently about level with her shins. She blinked back, marveling at just how big the Xoixe was.
"Yes?" she managed, unimpressively.
"Do you require assistance with this task?" Paxie asked. Their voice was… soft. Still deep and throaty, but gentle. They weren't looking at any of the pods.
She looked to the pod array again. Once she loaded Raj, she'd just have the one left.
"N-no," she said. She turned and met Paxie's eyes. "Thank you."
"Do you require company?" they asked.
She watched them, surprised by their gentle tone and how steadily they held themself on two legs. Faintly, she wondered why the Xoixe bothered walking on all fours if bipedalism was an option.
"That might be nice," she finally said.
---
It took multiple trips to get the pods onto the Water's Kiss. Once they were gathered in a small atrium, Paxie asked John to come out, too. Adina watched him closely as he stood away from the pods. He wasn't looking at any of them, which was probably for the best. He had him arms crossed tightly beside her as he watched Paxie.
"As you know, we were able to locate your planet in our current star maps, accounting for celestial drift," they said. Adina and John nodded. The Ghost had said that much, at least. But they were a bit more tight-lipped about the rest of it. "The planet that you lived on is now known by the name Areterra." Adina felt a swell of relief in her chest. Earth was still okay? Maybe they could get back to it. "However," Paxie said, and Adina almost shied away. It sounded like a very heavily loaded "however." "Areterra was able to produce a second space-fairing species after your kind went extinct."
Oh.
Humans had gone extinct, then.
They were truly the last of their kind?
And she was in charge of them.
26 million years…. It had really been 26 million years.
She felt light-headed. John looked down to her, concerned.
"This complicates the matter," Paxie explained. They were using that soft voice again. "There will need to be a meeting and case to decide which jurisdiction your people fall into, and how any future repopulation will be handled." Adina nodded, trying to take deep breaths. She was tired of fighting against her stomach. "For now," Paxie said, their tone kind as ever, "I wanted to introduce you to Gunnery Sergeant Appi, a Mauilen. I hope you will all find kinship in a shared planet."
Adina took another long breath and looked up to Paxie. Then she looked down, following their gaze to a small alien she hadn't noticed earlier—
Adina gasped, grabbing John's arm suddenly, eliciting a hiss from him. Adina didn't know exactly what sound was trying to escape from her throat right now, but she was sure it was a squeal.
Standing in front of them, at no taller than a two year old, was a big-eyed, wide-pawed, thick-furred cat in an environment suit.
"Oh my God," Adina whispered.
"No way," John breathed.
What kind of cat was it? How did it evolve to still be so recognizable over such a long stretch of time? Its coloring was whitish-gray with heavy black peppering around the eyes and speckled up the forehead - snowmelt camouflage? Its paws were broad like a lynx or a Pallas' cat, or a snow leopard. But with the suit on, Adina couldn't see any details of its morphology.
She realized she was staring. She let go of John and crouched down slowly.
"Sorry," she said, keeping her voice soft. "I just… our people, we.… we called you cats in our day."
Appi moved slightly. Maybe their ears moved under their helmet.
"We existed in your time?" they asked. Adina blinked, thrown off by the rasping, direct tone of voice. It was still high-pitched to her, still clearly from a small throat. But the authority in that voice was unmistakable.
"Uh, er, not you, exactly," she explained. She cleared her throat, aware that she was using a voice she might employ in a conversation with a child. No, she should treat this creature like any other scientist. "We had many species of feline - that is, a Family of carnivores with similar traits." John got down, too, squatting and resting both of his elbows on his knees. Appi looked between the two of them, and Adina caught sight of their pupils contracting and expanding. "The ones most, uh, humans were familiar with were… companions."
"What were they like?" Appi asked. They looked Adina in the eye. It stole her breath a little. Those eyes, they were huge. And there was something deeply, hauntingly intelligent about them. There was something she badly wanted to label as "human" to them.
"They were wonderful," Adina muttered. She blinked slowly. "For a lot of us, their company was more of a comfort than another human's."
Appi considered this with a twitch of their lip. They looked away from Adina, to John.
"You have a different opinion?"
Adina looked at John. He had his lips pursed behind the helmet. Adina widened her eyes, bracing for something awful.
"I… never met a cat I got along with."
Adina scowled. Appi nodded their head, lowering their chin and evaluating John. Their look was decidedly shrewd.
"We'll see if I break your streak, then," they rumbled quietly.
Adina got a chill down her back. She mentally shook herself. It had been millions and millions of years. The fact that this creature even looked like a cat was an anomaly. She should know, as a biologist, that she had no way to predict this animal's — this person's — behavior or thought patterns.
She half-listened as Paxie explained how things would go from this point. To say she was reeling was a gross understatement. Maybe she shouldn't have been. It hadn't been confirmed, but she'd known this was possible. That they were all that was left. That humanity had gone extinct and were every bit as history now as the dinosaurs had been.
They got the resuspended pods into the ship's medbay with the help of several more aliens. Nobody had asked John to help, which Adina was glad for. He stood in the hall as Kime and another alien stood together, likely gathering personal data from the pods.
"How are you doing?" Adina asked softly. John just shook his head.
"I'm not worried about me right now," he sighed, rubbing his forehead. Adina nodded, looking down. She was. But she had to be. She was… wow, she was the matron to all of humanity right now.
"I'll see what I can do to help," she whispered, putting a hand on his arm. He nodded and patted her gloved fingers weakly. She stepped away, reluctant. But he didn't meet her eye, so she turned and went back into the alien medbay.
"Captain Ramirez," Kime asked.
"Yes?"
"Is it possible for us to have some yet-living subjects to study?" Adina blinked. The medbay was already a little crowded with this many. "Seeing their parameters may increase the odds of survival for these six."
"Oh, yes," Adina said, nodding. She blinked harder, frowning, looking down. "Yes, of course. That makes perfect sense." She should have thought of that when she was already in the stasis chamber.
"May I go with you?" a small, raspy voice said. Adina turned and looked down to see Appi standing close behind her. She smiled, and she fought back the urge to bend down and pick Appi up like a baby, or like her cats back home….
"Yes, please," Adina said. "I'd love the company."
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The door banged loudly, bursting the long-sleeping silence in the house. A second crash, just as loud but somehow more violent, sent the front door flying open. Dust swirled as an umbrella rack clattered to the tiled entryway floor, and Sidekick stumbled in, tripping over the lip of the door and the umbrellas and the rack before falling to their hands and knees. Villain was already on alert, their eyes and hands glowing brightly as if they were molten. Sidekick coughed and clamored to their feet, the awful sound of metal on tile bouncing into the otherwise dark and silent house.
"Are you okay?" Villain uttered, their mouth throwing off yet more hot, yellowed light. But they were already cooling, the darkness swallowing the pair up again. The house smelled old, dusty, and faintly of mildew.
"Oh, don't worry about little ol' me," Sidekick grunted, staggering to their feet. They toed the remains of their impromptu escape room to the side of the foyer as Villain stepped around them and deeper inside. They closed the door as Villain lifted a hand, illuminating the main hallway with their renewed glow. "This place has power," Sidekick said, straightening their clothes. "I can feel it in some of the walls."
"We shouldn't use any lights," Villain said distractedly. The house was cluttered, some boxes and stacks of magazines lining the corners of the hallway floors, making the path narrower. Sidekick caught up to Villain and stuck close to them.
Villain cleared the house in a slightly chaotic pattern. There was no-one here, and there hadn't been for at least a year or two. Once they were sure they were alone, Sidekick went about rummaging in the kitchen while Villain scavenged for tolerable blankets. Most of them smelled too strongly of dust to use. But they found a couple deep in a linen closet that was less crowded with spiderwebs.
Villain brought their findings into the living room. Behind the couch, boxes and bins and books were piled up to waist height, blocking the rear part of the room off and making a safe place to turn their back on. Yet more was piled up onto the couch, and for all of the dust on it, it still looked too unstable to move. So Sidekick had taken the cans and the opener they'd recovered and sat cross-legged on the floor. Villain held two of the blankets between their knees and began unfolding the third to lay on the ground. "Smart," Sidekick said, gathering the cans and standing.
Once the two of them were sitting on the relatively clean blanket, their backs to the couch, a can of beef stew simmering between Villain's faintly glowing palms, everything finally seemed to slow down. It had been almost ten hours since they'd started running. And they knew there was going to be a lot more running ahead of them.
They glanced over at Sidekick. The room was painfully dark without Villain's glow, but street light through broken blinds fell across Sidekick's face. It was almost purplish blue, and it swept downward over their brow, their eyes, and their nose. Across their cheek, down to their lips, over their jaw, to their throat. Sidekick ate efficiently, their eyes darting down to the warmed can in their hands as they spooned up its contents, then back up to the window or hallway, out toward the street as they ate and chewed and swallowed. It all made them look half-feral, the light glimmering off of their sharp, focused gaze, the dark raking its fingers over their cheek and chin. It made them look like a hunter.
Then those sharp eyes snapped to Villain, and a shiver went down their back.
"Eat up," Sidekick said, looking back outside. Their eyes were somehow gleaming despite the impossibly long day they'd both had. "You're going to need your strength."
They looked like Hero right now. Not physically — Hero's hair was angelically fair, and their face was thin, their frame lithe — but… energetically. Sidekick had the same look of unstoppable drive on their face that… that Hero had.
Even now, Villain couldn't scrub the sight from their mind's eye. Hero, blood dripping from the corner of their mouth, the shadow looming over them in the filtered sunlight, looking over their shoulder at Villain —
"Run!"
"Vill."
Villain flinched. They blinked against the darkness in the house. Their ears strained against the silence. Sidekick had stopped moving, just staring at Villain with those intense, focused eyes. Vill. Hero had called them that.
"Talk to me," Sidekick uttered through the dark. The light on their face was almost bright, but it wasn't sunlight. "What's going through your head?"
"What do you think?" Villain breathed. They'd meant to sound angry. To sound cold. But now that they'd stopped moving, the horror was all catching up with them.
"I don't know," Sidekick said. Stubborn. "You tell me."
Villain scowled. They glowered, they sneered. But the heat didn't come, and when they opened their mouth to insult Sidekick, they choked on a sudden lump.
Hero, bathed in afternoon sunlight coming in from the high, high windows, red soaking their white costume, their green eyes going dark.
Villain heard themselves breathing hard as they squeezed the can in their hands. The dark only invited the mental images in all the brighter, like a dimmed movie theater.
Hero's body sliding to the floor, collapsing like a ragdoll before the dark, monstrous creature as it lifted its blood-soaked hand.
Villain flinched, the can and fork clattering sharply, when Sidekick put a hand on their shoulder. "Breathe," Sidekick whispered. "Focus on just breathing."
They were shaking, their breaths coming fast and ragged. Sidekick was up on their knees, and they put both hands on Villain's shoulders. Their touch was heavy, but they didn't hold Villain down or trap them.
"Match me, Vill, match me," Sidekick said, and then they started taking deep, loud breaths. Villain nodded, struggling to breathe along. Sidekick was breathing deep, and slower than Villain was, and it was all Villain could do to match them. Sidekick nodded, breathing in through their nose and out through their mouth, and Villain did what they did. In… out… in… out…. They finally caught down to Sidekick, and they looked up into those half-feral eyes in the dark, sharing their breaths. In… out…. "Better," Sidekick whispered. They sounded perfectly calm. Villain looked down at their half-empty can. Sidekick had eaten almost two. But Villain wasn't even going to be able to finish their first.
"How are you so calm?" Villain whispered. The silence in the house was thick. They didn't want to make it angry.
"I'm trained for this," Sidekick said simply. Then they paused. "My job… is to take care of the person in charge."
Villain shuddered. Sidekick took another set of deep, slow, loud breaths. Villain followed along.
"You're allowed to be in charge," Villain whispered. Sidekick huffed.
"I wouldn't know what to do."
Sidekick sat against Villain's side, their body close, warm, and heavy. Villain kept controlling their breathing. They tried not to get lost in their thoughts. But it was dark, and quiet, and Hero's blood had been lurid across their pale skin —
"How has your wine and painting class been going?"
Villain blinked. They turned and looked at Sidekick's face, the sharply drawn light splashing over their features. They were at the bottom of their second can.
"How…" Villain breathed. Sidekick shrugged, their spoon scraping and scratching loudly as they searched for the last of the food.
"It's Hero's business to know your business," they said. "And it's my business to know Hero's business." Villain watched them as they stuck the old spoon in their mouth and sucked it clean. They had moved closer, so the light coming in from the street had shifted now to curve over their large chest and busy hands. Villain looked back down to their own can.
"It, uh…." Villain frowned. Did this mean that Sidekick had studied Villain? In the back of their head, Villain knew Hero had dug into their life. Hero always seemed to know when Villain was having a bad day, or when they were going to be violent, even before the two of them got to the fighting. Before they sat down at the cafe. Before….
"Get out of here!"
Villain swallowed thickly.
"It's been, uh, good." They narrowed their eyes. What was the last thing they did in their night class? "We painted… an arctic lake." They nodded, looking down at the can in their hands through the darkness. "We weren't allowed to use white paint."
"But the canvasses are white, right?" Sidekick asked. Villain nodded. "I like that rule," Sidekick said, setting their can down. "Forces you to think about your goal differently. To adapt." Villain scoffed.
"It's just painting," they whispered, spooning another bite of stew up and then into their mouth.
Sidekick kept them talking for… hours, it seemed. About nothing, mostly. Everything. Asking things about their life that were just barely invasive. How their cat was doing and if their roommate would be okay watching them. If they were planning on selling any of the paintings they made. If the new used car search was going well.
Villain talked, and at some point, they stopped hearing what they were saying. They were caught looking over at Sidekick where they leaned back against the dusty couch, warm and heavy against Villain. Comforting. Inquisitive and gentle and stubborn.
Like Hero.
Villain's spoon scraped against empty tin. Sidekick nodded and reached out, taking the can.
"Room for one more?" Sidekick asked, reaching for another can. Villain shook their head.
"I don't think so." They had no appetite. They were surprised they finished that one at all; they hadn't even realized they were still eating. Sidekick nodded and set the food back down.
"You should try to get some rest," they said. "I'll take first watch." Villain sighed.
"I don't think I can sleep right now," they whispered. Sidekick hummed sympathetically.
"You should at least try," they said. "Rest your body, at least. I'll be here." Villain sighed and moved to lay down across the blanket, pulling the one in their lap up over their body.
They stayed close to Sidekick. Close enough to touch, to feel their heat. They shivered against the dark, stale air of the house. Sidekick moved, and Villain's eyes fluttered closed when they began carding their soft fingers through Villain's hair.
But in the dark, they couldn't avoid it. The flashes from the afternoon. When Villain had run in to get Hero, to escape, to finally take them away. And Hero, the sunlight gleaming on their hair and glittering over their suit, had looked at them in horror.
Because that thing had crawled out of the shadow behind them.
Villain flinched sharply when Sidekick's hand snagged on a tangle.
"Sorry," they whispered. "Are you tender-headed?"
"What was that thing?" Villain gasped. Sidekick stilled, but kept their warm hand on Villain's head.
"That… was Superhero," Sidekick whispered. Villain looked into the dark with wide eyes. "And by now," Sidekick uttered, slowly smoothing their hand over Villain's hair, "they've told everyone that you killed Hero, and that I helped you escape."
He wasn't sure why he'd agreed to take over the gym teacher's after-hours rounds, exactly. He had a lot of homework left to grade and he actually didn't want to stay in this building much at all today. Something about the weather made him want to hunker down in bed with a bag of chips like a bear. But Hugh had a lot going on lately. So Ben agreed to make sure all of the equipment was properly locked up after basketball practice.
It was fine. Hugh would owe him later. Maybe he'd rope the guy into a couple beers, who knew. He'd come up with something.
Ben walked down the hallway to the gymnasium, his footsteps bouncing off the linoleum and across the walls. But they didn't sound right. Was the floor here messed up? He stopped walking to look down, to look for details he could give maintenance. But… the weird sounds continued. They echoed awkwardly through the hall, and he turned his head, trying to find the direction they were coming from. They sounded… wet? Was there some kind of leak? What the hell was that noise?
A small, strangled, pained cry.
Ben's blood froze along with the rest of him. A girl. That sound was coming from the small gym, at the back of the hall. Whoever it was, she whined, weakly. Ben almost thought she'd said, "Stop."
Oh, fuck. Oh, what the fuck.
Ben sprinted, rushing for the small gym door, keys and shoes filling the hallway with so much noise, and then the loud bang when he slammed open the double doors—
There, up there, in the bleachers, two shapes. Ben staggered back when the one turned to look at him. "Monster" was the only word he had in that split second, looking up at the human-shaped thing with gray skin, black eyes, and lips slick with… blood.
Ben was completely out of his depth. He didn't even know how to categorize this. Was it some kind of animal? An elaborate prank? There was the girl, limp in it's hands, and Ben thought he recognized her—
The thing rose, it made to lunge for Ben, and he tripped over himself to get away, falling on his ass just in time to watch the monster get tackled out of the air by something else.
There was something else in here?! What was next?!
The monster and the — the wolf?! — ripped and tore at each other on the floor, away from the door. Not wasting a moment, Ben climbed up off of his butt and sprinted as best he could for the bleachers. He stumbled and banged his shins more than once getting up to the girl, then gathered and pulled her into his arms. He couldn't tell if she was still breathing or not. The thought that he was holding a dead body was like ice water down his back. He looked down the bleachers, holding the full weight of a teenaged girl, and worried that if she wasn't already dead, he'd kill them both trying to carry her down these stairs.
His head snapped up at a terrifying, roar-lile sound that shook the whole gym. Then he looked down, gritting his teeth, and pounded down the steps in a rush.
Holy shit! Holy shit, he made it!
He looked up again, and the human-shaped monster burst into a thick puff of steam. It rushed at him, and his heart stopped, right as the wolf dissolved into a swarm of bats, swirling around and controlling the cloud.
Was he asleep at his desk?! This was a nightmare, it had to be!
He didn't know how much time he had, so he ran, his steps heavy and precarious with the girl in his arms. There was a bang behind him, spurring him on with a punch of fear as he got into the hall.
He did his best to run, to get out of there as fast as possible, to keep the girl safe and balanced in his arms. She made a small sound, a groan, and he would have laughed with relief if he could breathe. He headed for the nearest exterior door, his heart pounding cold as crashing noises chased him up the hallway. He cried out in fear, gripping the girl tighter, and turned to shoulder out of the door.
He tripped, hard, over the threshold, and he had just enough footing left to twist and fall onto his back. The girl fell limp right onto his chest, punching the already winded wind out of him. He gasped, but it was hitched, caught against his sternum like gum. He couldn't get a breath in, he didn't even have the air to get the girl off of him.
The sounds of the fight were getting closer. He couldn't see past the weakly moaning student. He braced, immobile, for whatever pain or horror was about to overcome him.
Bats, so many tiny, screeching, flitting bats burst out of the still-open door, whipping past him and into the night. In the harsh floodlight, he saw several swirl and dive for him, only for several others to swoop over him and attack upwards. He gaped like a fish, still breathless, trying so hard to suck in a breath, mind whirling. These bats didn't move like they were supposed to.
The small animals cleared, screeching and shrieking into the distance. He was able to force half a breath into his lungs, but it hiccuped right back out of him. He squeezed his eyes shut, suffocating. There was another noise, and then footsteps, sprinting to him over grass.
Another set of hands grabbed the girl, yanking on her. Ben gritting his teeth, grabbing for her, trying to protect her from her next attacker, but the newcomer shoved his hands away with incredible force. Then the girl was on the stranger's shoulder, and he ran out of sight. Groaning, straining, feeling ready to pass out, Ben struggled to get onto his hands and knees. The same person — a student — was on him again, then, much to his surprise. Then, to his downright shock, the kid lifted him up onto his feet.
"Walk, walk, walk," the kid growled, his voice urgent, all but dragging Ben to a waiting car. The girl was in the front seat, leaning back, pale as death. The kid dumped Ben into the back seat and slammed the door shut behind him. Ben hadn't even righted himself before the kid was in the driver's seat and pulling the car off of the grass, towards the street.
Ben was finally getting his lungs back, struggling for air, for relief. But now, he could so strongly smell blood. He sat upright, shaking, looking across the car and at the driver. A street light passed in time to illuminate the kid pulling his hand away from his mouth, the meat of his thumb bleeding. Ben stared in horror as the kid reached over to the girl.
"Drink," the kid demanded, and Ben felt a wave of nausea like the inertia around a turn. The girl whimpered in front of him, and the boy turned to look at her. When he spoke again, his voice was downright terrifying, like the barreling of a train rushing up behind you. "Rebecca, you will drink."
She made another noise, and the kid looked away. Ben couldn't see, didn't want to see, if she was doing as told. He just stared at the driver.
"Put on your seatbelt," the kid said in a normal voice. Ben actually didn't want to do that. He wasn't sure he didn't want to bail out of this car yet. But then the kid turned to look at him, another passing street light illuminating a furious look on his face.
Ben slid back and grabbed the belt before the kid could use that voice on him.
The car was quiet, except for the roar of the engine and tire noise as the kid howled through town. It looked like they were headed to the hospital. That was good. So maybe Ben was okay to stay in the car.
Eventually, the kid pulled his hand away from Rebecca's face. He glanced at his hand, and Ben tried not to see the blood smeared across his skin. He could hear the girl breathing now, panting raggedly, fidgeting in front of him. He sighed, shaky and breathless, in relief.
"Rebecca, who was that?" the kid asked. Ben leaned to one side, trying to be quiet, to look forward into the passenger seat. Rebecca moaned. "Rebecca, please, I need to know who that was."
"I… I can't," she slurred. "I don't know."
"Why were you there?" he asked.
"I… we… I don't remember."
Ben looked between them as the kid swore under his breath. What was going on here? Did he think Rebecca personally knew that monster? And where had he even come from? He seemed entirely too calm about Rebecca's state, and he sure had been fast about getting them out of there.
"Who are you?" Ben demanded of the kid. He glanced back, over his shoulder. The lighting was better in this part of town, and Ben recognized the face.
"Abe Mitchell," the kid said. "I'm in your second period European History class." Ben nodded, leaning back slightly. He could see now that Abe was covered in tiny scratches and spots of blood.
What was going on? Where had Abe come from? And where had that wolf come and gone from, and those bats?
And that monster had turned into… mist.
Ben's eyes widened, and he looked again to Abe's hand, now on the steering wheel. Rebecca had been bleeding, he realized now. And she had been pale and chilled in his arms, limp. But now she was suddenly active again?
After… Abe told her to drink.
Ben stared at Abe. Abe threw a stern, sideways look back at him.
When they got to the hospital, Rebecca was still too dazed to walk. Ben carried her inside, and Abe led the way to the ER desk.
"Help," he said to the receptionist, "she's lost a lot of blood!" Ben swallowed another wave of nausea, not looking at Abe's right hand. There was a flurry as the receptionist got nurses into the room, as Rebecca was placed on a gurney and examined as she was wheeled away, as Abe told some bullshit story about the two of them jumping a fence when Ben caught them making out in the parking lot after dark. He threw a look back at Ben during that, looking embarrassed for just a second before his eyes hardened like stone on Ben. Ben responded with a shaken, but still emphatic, glare. As if he would ever in a million years say that it was actually a wolf, a monster that dissolved into vapor, and a swarm of bats that had done this. This kid must have thought he was a complete moron.
When things quieted down, Abe took a seat in the waiting room. Ben eventually sat down across from him. He didn't know Rebecca's emergency contact info, and he couldn't get it from the school at this point, but he had been able to give them her last name, at least. He had her in fourth period, he'd realized when he'd gotten any chance to look at her face. He hung his head and shivered, trying not to think about the moment when he'd picked her up and thought she was dead.
"So," Abe uttered. Ben pursed his lips, rubbing his face, then looked up hesitantly. Abe met his gaze. He looked… nervous. "How… how much of that did you see?"
Ben glanced around the room, but they were pretty much alone. He looked back to Abe, but couldn't meet his eye. Had Abe been the monster… or the wolf? He was the wolf, surely. Unless he was lying to ease Ben's suspicions… Would he do that? He was apparently a pretty quick liar.
"Enough," Ben said, his voice shaking. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Enough to know I probably shouldn't ask questions."
To his surprise, Abe laughed. Then he laughed again, putting a hand across his face to cover his eyes.
"Shit," Abe swore under his breath. Ben shivered. He really hoped this was a dream. It didn't feel like one. Abe lowered his hand to cover his mouth, looking into Ben's eyes. A flicker of fear and something primal in the base of his skull told Ben not to meet that gaze, so he looked away. "Would you believe me," Abe said, "if I told you that was all for film class?"
Ben glared up at Abe, then pointedly looked to the reception desk. Ben's heart was still pounding, his chest still ached from that awful breathlessness, and they were in the hospital, so no. Ben would not believe that.
"Sure," he said with a shrug. Abe frowned down at the low table between them. He looked pensive. Maybe Ben should have actually tried to make that convincing. Was there anything to stop Abe from turning into a wolf or a swarm of bats or a monster and killing Ben right now?
Holy shit. Abe had… Abe was a…
Ben felt dizzy. He put his head in his hands with a moan. If Abe wanted him dead, then there probably wasn't anything Ben could do to stop him. So there wasn't much point in fighting it.
"Are you gonna kill me?" Ben breathed, intentionally too quiet for a normal person to hear. There was silence between them for a moment. Ben was almost relieved.
"No," Abe whispered, dashing Ben's hopes. "But if that other… one recognized you, then you're still in danger."
This was a nightmare. No, no, Ben was probably actually just dead. He was dead already, and his brain was making up stories to explain it away with his last moments of oxygen. Or, he had just gone straight to Hell. That sucked. He thought he deserved Heaven. He wasn't perfect, but he gave more than he got.
"I'll need to protect you and Rebecca," Abe said. "Whoever that was, they're probably pissed now. They'll want to finish Rebecca off, and get at you just to make things worse for me." Ben stared at Abe. He was taking all of this way too well.
"Who are you?" Ben hissed. Abe looked up, meeting Ben's eye. Ben set his jaw, not looking away this time.
"Abraham," Abe said sternly, all of the youth drained from his boyish face. "Your bodyguard, until I tell you otherwise."
I'm going to be going through the previous three parts and adjusting some language and pronouns (if I haven't already done so by the time this is posted). It won't require anyone re-reading if they don't want to, but it should make things feel more consistent for first-time readers.
allergens: some miscommunication, brief reference to sex
cw: description of a needle (non-threatening)
---
Paxie sighed again, breathing deeply in the shuttle. Klte's suggestion to rest and take off the helmet was a good one. They felt better now, having taken the moment to recuperate. The past two hours had been a flurry. They decided to get back to work, and they stuck their head back into their helmet, allowing the automatic clamp to reseat. Captain Eme would need a break soon, too, undoubtedly. So they should head back to the ship as soon as possible.
The shuttle was still cycling the atmosphere out when their earpiece chirped.
"Go ahead," they said.
"Admiral, we'd like to request a Ghost to come aboard," Kime said. Paxie tried to perk their ears, but the helmet kept them mostly in place.
"Is there something wrong with the Earthlings' vessel?" they asked, maybe a little too worriedly.
"There's an inconsistency in their comms systems," Kime explained. "They wanted to view a star map to reconcile the data, but can't use our devices."
"Ah," Paxie mused. They supposed it wasn't a bad idea. There didn't seem to be an abundance of digital technology in this ship, but it did sound like this matter could be handled with a Ghost's help. "Very well," they said. "I'll have Captain Eme dispatch our Ghost immediately."
"Very good. I'll… prepare the Earthlings for its arrival."
"Actually, Ensign, I'm almost done." The shuttle sounded more or less silent by now, most of the noise Paxie could hear coming from the body of the strange, small ship and up into their suit. "I'll let them know what to expect."
"Very good. Sergeant Klte and I will be sure to leave a path for you."
"Excellent, thank you."
Once the request had been sent along and the blue light shone to indicate the cycle was complete, Paxie opened the doors again. Most of the doorway was taken up by the outer hull of the ship. There was radiation fading on it, and the dings and pocks of micrometeorites. They shivered to think of how desperate this species must have been to leave their planet with such an unequipped vessel.
They lowered their head and squeezed into the open airlock. Since Paxie was too large to fit with both of the Earthling airlock doors closed, the doors had both been manually opened. Paxie wasn't worried about the Xoixe's technology failing to hold the seal from the outside. Even with the awkward shape of the small ship. But if it had been an issue the Earthlings had to solve with their own technology, well….
They hated to admit it, even to themselves. But they would not have felt safe.
Klte and Kime were both out of the hallway that lead to the bridge, allowing Paxie to get most of the way in. This room wasn't made to accommodate as many as The Water's Kiss' bridge. There were four…console stations, and what looked to be a command module in the middle. This is what Harrison and Ramirez were working on.
"Captain Ramirez, Lieutenant Harrison," Paxie said. Both looked up, and Paxie bowed their head lower. "Please forgive my absence. But I do have some positive news."
"Good news is good," Harrison said. Their eyes got wider as they watched Paxie. Ramirez remained stoic as ever. Paxie licked the roof of their mouth.
"We are summoning a Ghost to come help with the technological gap," they announced. Both aliens looked towards Klte with slightly widened eyes. Paxie hesitated. That was a… strange reaction. Both looked back to them, and they kept talking, unsure of what else to do. "Its kind is often a bit… difficult for those who have not seen one before to grasp."
Harrison looked very uncomfortable. Ramirez glanced at them, then back to Paxie. But they also seemed uneasy. Paxie hesitated again. They looked to Kime, but she didn't seem to have any insight.
"Lieutenant Harrison? Do you need to rest?"
"I'm sorry," Harrison whispered. "I just… you work with ghosts?" Paxie tried to perk their ears, and Kime and even Klte seemed to hone in on Harrison.
"You know of them?" Paxie asked.
"We have… legends. Stories." Ramirez looked again to Harrison. They had changed color, going pale—
Klte lunged at the same time as Ramirez, and both of them grabbed Harrison and kept them from falling completely down. Paxie watched, momentarily stunned, as Ramirez took on the burden of Harrison's weight.
Had Harrison died?!
"What's happening?" Paxie barked. "Kime, vitals, we need—"
"I'm okay," Harrison rasped, dumbly grasping at Klte.
Paxie didn't know what to do. They were useless, clogging up the entire hallway, unable to move anywhere fast, watching as Ramirez labored to get Harrison to one of the consoles. They sat them down (what a strange sitting position) and crouched down in front of them. And Paxie struggled to even get near.
Harrison looked half dead. Ramirez had a hand on their neck, and was saying something quietly. The translation protocol couldn't pick it up. But it did hear Harrison.
"It's just a lot," they said. "It's a lot."
Ramirez stood and pushed down lightly on the back of John's head. They shifted, then rested their head on their knees. Bendy creatures, then. Xoixe certainly weren't so flexible.
"He's okay," Ramirez rasped. "He just fainted. It's…." They didn't speak for a moment, reaching into a compartment and getting something out. When they spoke, their voice was raspy. Wet. "Sorry. It's been a long day for us."
"I understand," Paxie soothed. They had felt the same way, and this had been a normal day until two hours ago. They couldn't very well imagine what it was like for these small aliens.
"Thank you," Ramirez rasped. They opened a small, thin container and pulled part of the inside of it out. They handed it to Harrison, who took it and held it loosely in one hand. Then they put their hand on his back and moved it in slow circles.
"What is fainting, Captain?" Kime asked. "Does he need medical attention?"
"No," Harrison groaned. "I'm… I'll be…."
"He's okay," Ramirez said again. "His emotions are very severe right now, and he's dehydrated and hungry. His body is taking in too much stimulus, and it overwhelmed his nervous system." They laughed, quiet and breathy. "His body threw a tantrum." Harrison laughed, too.
"This all sounds very severe," Kime said. Paxie definitely agreed.
"Do you have food?" they asked. "Did you bring any?" Ramirez laughed again.
"We have food and water, we'll be okay."
Paxie quirked their jaw. They didn't understand. Harrison was sick, so sick that his nervous system was… throwing a tantrum? Were these conglomerate creatures? They didn't have the markers for that. But Harrison had looked by all means to have died for a moment, and the two of them were laughing about it. Maybe laughter meant something different on Earth.
Either way, this kind of treatment of crew was unacceptable. Paxie could dismiss the cryogenics ship-wide, as that was a species survival tactic. But they would not tolerate gross neglect of subordinates.
"Captain Ramirez," Paxie ordered. Ramirez looked up, and Harrison followed their gaze groggily. "Your lieutenant is ill, and his needs have clearly reached a point of catastrophe. I demand you give him proper nutrients and rest at once."
The bridge was silent. Both aliens were staring at Paxie. They had their claws raised now, and they were grinding their jaw in agitation. Ramirez's eyes were wide. They were breathing hard, their chest swelling.
"Admiral," Ramirez said, their tone low. "I will yield to your command. But I promise you that my lieutenant's condition is completely survivable."
Paxie watched them both. They weren't sure now if they appreciated Ramirez's command style. Neglectful and dismissive of their crew's needs. Those were terrible leadership qualities.
"I'm okay, Admiral," Harrison said. He stood, slowly, and both Ramirez and Klte seemed ready to grab him if he faltered. To Paxie's shock… he didn't. "Your concern is… heartwarming." Paxie huffed quietly, resisting the need to raise their head, knowing now from experience the ceiling was too low. Ramirez motioned for Harrison to walk in front of them, and the two walked toward Kime. She backed up along the hallway to allow them in. "Don't judge me, but I think I have a crush," Harrison whispered as they left.
"Shut up, they can hear you," Ramirez whispered back. Paxie pinned their ears flat. If Harrison had an injury, especially a crushing one, then they wanted to know about it. They turned off their translator protocol.
"Ensign Kime. Make sure Lieutenant Harrison is getting the appropriate care."
"Yes, sir."
"Sergeant Klte, be sure to be available of he needs help."
"Aye, sir."
---
John kept his head down on the table. He'd managed to finish the new hydration pouch, too. Adina still couldn't stomach the idea of putting anything more than water in her face. And even then, she'd barely been managing to sip her pouch.
"You should really get a hydration pouch," John whispered. "You need the electrolytes."
"I don't want to waste it if I throw up again," Adina breathed.
"You're more likely to throw up if you don't."
She knew he was right. But her tongue was tingling, her back itched all over, her head was throbbing, and every limb felt hollow and staticky. And now ghosts were real and part of this… space federation. On top of everything else.
Adina glanced around the galley again. It was small, only made for up to eight, but the nightmare creature was sharing the space with them. Actually, it probably wasn't nice for Adina to call it that. It had tried to save John's fall, after all. And Adina got the distinct feeling it was watching her to protect John. Because now the admiral of the alien fleet just outside thought she was a heartless bitch who didn't care about her lieutenant.
"Hey," John muttered, looking up. Adina looked back to him. He was still pale, and his eyes were painfully red, and he nodded his head delicately towards the bridge. "Be honest," he breathed, and Adina noticed the nightm—the cave mantis' suit didn't repeat him. "Do you think I have a shot?"
Against her will, Adina pictured John in nothing but an environment helmet and boots, looking at a condom the size of a tube sock with apprehension.
She burst into laughter, splitting her head with pain and laying over the table. John laughed, too, rasping and hysterical, and they both filled the metal room with a cacophony. When the laughter died down, Adina had both arms over her head, squeezing her skull against the cold, plastic table and whimpering.
She was shaking. She knew if she opened her eyes, she wouldn't even be able to see. She took long breaths, but they were somehow shallow. She felt like her body was falling apart.
"Am I dying?" she whispered. John's hand came down on the back of her neck, cool and heavy.
"You survived the wakeup process," John whispered back. "That's where everything goes wrong."
"I feel like shit," she whimpered. "I've never felt like such absolute shit like this."
"I'm sorry," he whispered, and he smoothed his hand over her shoulder. "Maybe we should just get you an IV."
"We don't have time for that," Adina rasped.
"The aliens haven't killed us yet," John uttered. He sounded like he was smiling. Grinning, actually. "Besides, they like me enough. I'll put in a good word and get you twenty minutes to close your eyes."
"My hero," Adina droned. John laughed, then stood.
"C'mon, let's get you hydrated," he said, and he stepped around the table and gently took her by the arms. She rose carefully, keeping her eyes closed, and let him lead her to the med bay. The cave mantis followed behind with minimal noise, but she could still hear it. He helped her sit and then lay back in one of the beds, then started rummaging for the proper fluids.
"What is wrong with Captain Ramirez?" Kime asked.
"She's badly dehydrated," John said for her. She wasn't eager to talk at the moment, and she appreciated his answering for her. "We'll put some fluids in her, and then we can keep trying to figure this out."
Adina eventually opened her eyes when John made some noise from right beside her. The room was a bit blurry, but it was manageable. John set the IV on a small hook in the wall, then tied a length of rubber around her upper arm.
"What is this for?" Kime asked. She was in the doorway now, trapping Adina, John, and the cave mantis in the room. It was as close to the bed as the big alien could get.
"These fluids are going to re-hydrate me," Adina said, and she sat up slightly. She started forming and relaxing her fist repeatedly once John had the band tied across her bicep. "I'm increasing the pressure of the blood vessels in my arm right now, to get a large vein to push against my skin so he can put a needle into it."
The room was very quiet as John bent low, swiping an alcohol pad over the inside of Adina's arm. It burned just a little, and then he gently touched her skin with one hand and lined up the needle with the other. She watched him push it into her, impressed with the steadiness of his hand. He untied the band and stepped back, and she laid her head back with a sigh.
"I'll get something for your head in there, too," he said.
"Thanks."
"C-Captain Ramirez," Kime uttered. Adinia looked up sharply, jarring her head badly, surprised to hear the alien sounding so... scared? She was looking directly at Adina through the domed helmet of her environment suit, but Adina just couldn't read her expression. "Can you not drink water? Are you malformed?" Adina blinked. Then she took another look at the scales on Kime's face. Had the Xoixe never heard of injections? Of intravenous fluids?
"I, my body can't stomach the fluids I need right now," Adina explained. "So I have to bypass my stomach." Kime and the cave mantis exchanged looks.
"You mean to say that you do not require your stomach?" Adina glanced at John, who looked a little bit amused at the disconnect as he injected medicine into the top of the bag.
"I do," Adina explained. "But my stomach isn't doing what I want it to right now. So I'm, uh, removing it from the equation right now. So that I can get back onto my feet."
"Why do you not simply rest?" the cave mantis hissed. Its voice was a bit frightening, halfway between a snake and the chirp of a bat. It made her want to turtle her neck.
"We have too much to do," Adina said, reluctantly meeting its big, black eyes. "I can't afford to take the time right now."
"But your body is failing," Kime said.
"Well, I mean, it might if I kept going like this," Adina relented. "But by doing this, I'm able to stave that off."
"I don't understand," the cave mantis hissed. "You're dying."
"No, I wouldn't say that—"
"Then you do not require water or your stomach to live."
"Well, okay, I do—"
"It's a bit more complicated than that," John said.
"But rather than sleeping and resting your body and mind," the mantis continued, "you are instead piercing your body and adding an outside substance to your flesh, so that you may continue your activities without... sacrificing the time?"
Adina blinked, and she could see John staring at the thing, too.
"It sounds pretty metal when you put it like that," John said.
Everyone in the room flinched when the two aliens' suits made a loud, sharp noise.
"Code black, code black!" another Xoixe voice called over both enviro suit speakers. "Hostile ship spotted, Skel-type destroyer, weapons hot and locked onto the Earth-type explorer! Approaching at factor 3, ten minutes until interception!"
Adina looked directly at Kime, her entire body suddenly seeming to fade away. She was numb all over, and the drugs still in her veins seemed to rev up for a second round. Time slowed. The Xoixe seemed to pale beneath its scales. Part of Adina tried to convince the rest of her it didn't mean the same thing on them that it meant in humans. That the alien's body was reallocating blood flow to muscles out of anticipation of a fight. Out of fear.
"All ships!" Admiral Paxie's voice boomed over both speakers and from down the hall. "Spool FTL drives and make heading for nearest fallback position! Defensive power allocations! Ready automated fighters to scramble!"
