#varek

“I am seeing the worlds on a level you humans simply can’t understand” Arulos I went to college parties I’m sure I can understand.

Art by me @cidsin Artfight 2024 @artfight

Another batch... the sketchbook still has around 10/11 pages or a bit lesser... and my bookmark list is getting smaller too!!!! But not much time to fill the rest so... Let's go!

Mossy belongs to NeeciaChan

Lich Queen Gael belongs to @gaelfox

Varek belongs to XyKoNox

Alexander Márquez belongs to Otterforwater ( @kristanlayne )

Dahlia belongs to RegalRegex

🚫 Do Not Re-Upload/Edit My Shots/Art Without My Permission🚫

                [Pillowfort][Instagram][Tumblr][AO3][Nexus]

Trouble meets Danger hurhur.

Varek thinks, not for the first time, that he truly does not understand certain aspects of Mercury’s design.

He picks his way down the corridor with care, the task made more complicated than it needs to be by the flashing of the emergency alert lights- everything is alternately dark and bright, and the rapid adjustment makes his head throb, the appearance and disappearance of shadows making pinpoint details seem to shift.  He wonders if T’len and Cassie have this problem, or if the Nar’aan have developed a visual range that better overlaps with that of the human crew.

Not that it’s relevant at the moment; he can’t afford to let his mind wander, no matter how worried he might be for both T’len and Cassie.

There is a loud hiss behind him, and a wall-panel begins to bubble.  Varek abandons caution to bolt for the next junction, slamming his hand down on the controls to deploy the emergency bulkhead only a moment before he feels the sharp jolt of a section decompressing.

His hand shakes as he draws it back.  Too close.

And he has to move; it takes far too little time for the long, low-slung aliens that the humans have taken to calling damselflies to cut through Mercury’s frame, and he can only hope he hasn’t attracted the attention of the one behind him.  He wishes the lights would stop; it’s disorienting, and he’s already turned around- half of this deck appears to be compromised, and Varek hasn’t had much reason to visit this portion of the ship.

He taps his comm again, and it makes another uncooperative chirp; the system is still down, and Varek has no means by which to demand an update from Eli or Whiskey without the comm system.

All in all, he is finding this situation entirely unpleasant.

He makes it another dozen meters down the corridor before he finds himself at a dead end.  An emergency bulkhead has blocked off the turn he’d hoped to make.  He curses quietly, and turns back.  There has to be some path-

-he’s barely had the thought when there’s a very different hiss, and a section of the corridor wall clicks out.  It sweeps smoothly to the side, and Varek knows there have been a few occasions when he’s been happier to see Whiskey, but not many.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on the bridge?” Whiskey asks, and there’s just a hint too much waver in his voice to carry off the teasing bravado he’s shooting for, and Varek does not care.  He grins anyway, and heads for the hatch.

“That’s where I’d intended to be, but I had to make an unscheduled detour,” he says, allowing Whiskey to help him into the ridiculously small space.  There’s barely space for him to slip past Whiskey into the slightly-wider tunnel behind him, and he’s not entirely sure how Whiskey turns around once he’s pulled the hatch closed behind them.  “And the comms are down, I couldn’t exactly ask for directions.  How did you find me?”

“Comms are down, but the internal scanners are still working,” Whiskey replies, moving up to occupy the same stretch of tunnel as Varek.  He brushes against him as he does- unavoidable, really, but Varek can feel the pressure of a hand left a moment too long, knows Whiskey is taking the opportunity to steal a moment of contact.  Reassuring himself, Varek thinks.

He understands the impulse.  He resolutely does not dwell on how many people he’s come to care for, and how few of them he can be sure are safe; he just presses a little closer himself, and nods when Whiskey motions with the tablet he’s just retrieved.  It isn’t as though there’s anywhere to go; it looks like Whiskey has the fire-suppression system active, the tunnel is sealed before and behind them.

“How bad is it?” Varek asks, and the look Whiskey gives him is the furthest thing from comforting.

“They haven’t made it to the bridge, yet,” he offers, but his tone is as grim as his expression.  “I need to get to the secondary control nexus, the primary’s trashed, and we’re bleeding atmosphere.  We need to get the internal bulkheads deployed.”

“All of them?” Varek asks, a chill rolling down his back.  Anyone still trying to get to their stations would be trapped.

“All of them,” Whiskey confirms, shaking his head.  “They broke through two of the cargo bays and the stabilizer supports.  That’s a lot of surface exposed to vacuum.”

“Which direction is that from here?” Varek asks.

“That way,” Whiskey says, motioning forward.  “Bridge is that way,” he adds, gesturing behind them.  “You have a tab?”

“Not at present,” Varek says.  He hadn’t had his tablet on him when the alarms had sounded.

“Take this one,” Whiskey says, pressing his tablet into Varek’s hand.  “Like I said, the sensors are still on, you’ll be able to see where you’re going.  And it’ll tell you if any of the compartments have been breached.  You may have to backtrack a little, but you won’t get lost.”

“What about you?” Varek asks.  It’s a practical question, really- Varek is well aware that his presence on the bridge is significantly less likely to change the course of this encounter than Whiskey getting to the system controls- but the part of himself that still hears the sneering of his instructors over his sentimentality knows that’s not why he’s asking.

“I don’t need a map,” Whiskey replies, shrugging one shoulder and offering a wry smile.  It’s a thin disguise for his nerves, but Varek appreciates the effort.  “Think I’ve spent more time in these tunnels than in the corridors, as it is.”

“Not when there’s something boring holes in the ship,” Varek counters.  He’s never been the nervous type, but he can admit he’s rattled; Mercury has survived past odds that strain credulity before, but there’s nothing quite like the horror of knowing that vacuum is creeping in compartment by compartment.

Space is, after all, very unforgiving.

“I’ll manage.  Get to your station, give Eli trouble for me until the comms are back up,” Whiskey says, and he reaches up, tapping the control to open the next compartment.  There’s a hiss of pressure equalizing, and the bulkhead lifts.  When he moves, Varek will have the room to turn around, to head in the other direction.  To try and get to the bridge, to do whatever he can from there.

When he moves, they will part ways, put wall after wall between them in their wakes, and without the comms up-

-Whiskey starts to move, and Varek fists a hand in his collar to stop him.

“You’d best be there, when the comms come back up,” Varek says, and he’s not managing teasing bravado, either.  “I don’t want to have to go looking.”

“I’ll be listening for you,” Whiskey says, reaching up to tap his comm.  “You have a map, no excuses.”

They need to move; Varek knows every second matters, knows that he’s kept Whiskey too long already.  Doesn’t know how far out of his way Whiskey diverted, to get him out of the corner he was trapped in.  Still, he hesitates; he’s made many friends on Mercury, but Whiskey was the first, and remains the dearest.

This is not an easy goodbye.

Whiskey reaches up, closes his hand around Varek’s wrist- a gentle reminder, and no less reluctant, and Varek does not let go.  He pulls Whiskey in, instead, and kisses him.

Whiskey startles, but doesn’t pull away; he kisses back, and it’s sharp and it’s desperate and it’s not a promise, they both know better.

Varek is the one to pull away, to press his forehead to Whiskey’s for an instant before he lets go.  Whiskey nods, short and sharp, and there is a world left unsaid in the dark shadows of his eyes, and then he’s moving, and so is Varek.