I didn't think I was going to write this one when I sat down.
Friends Among The Thules - It is...truly frightening what a combination of boredom, long deployments, longer training sessions, and a dearth of new people can do when they combine and distill themselves into a group of Thules let free from the confines of their ship unto a waystation to run rampant, especially when the only person staffing the only bar on said station is a newly arrived, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, happy and naive Yeeni not yet wise to the ways of the Thules.
(Focus: Human-Yeeni interaction.)
Nightsky Stars whistled as he polished a glass behind the bar. The whistling wasn't easy with Yeeni lips, but he'd wanted to do it since he was a pup. It was just
cool. And he'd always wanted to be cool. He'd seen it in entertainment shows, the way that heroes and villains alike strutted across the world. Whistling.
Bartenders whistled too. It was a way for him to establish himself here, on this station. The whistling Yeeni. He was so ready to change everything, to get away from home and reinvent himself. His parents on Brabu had smothered him and the rest of his litter, and they'd all longed to escape. His sister Plasma Dancer had signed up with the ground forces, but of course she would. She'd wanted to be fierce since the moment she could run, and he remembered being terrified of her until he learned that she was even more loyal.
But Nightsky didn't want to fight. He wanted to be
cool. And that was impossible with a doting mother who happened to be the head nurse of a major hospital, and took every opportunity to remind you that you were still her little
pup. He shivered at the thought, and felt bad for lying and telling her he was going to work on a freighter. At least his brother Blazing Comet seemed to enjoy all of attention now that two of the three siblings were gone. Maybe he'd be an actor, and act cool in those entertainment shows.
But Nighsky Stars would be cool. When he saw the chance to leave Brabu, to get into space and aboard one of the waystations in Barbarun that served passing ships headed towards Gathin and Valhidem beyond, he'd leapt at it. The opening had seemed specially tailored for a young Yeeni looking to get away from home, specifying the availability of bone vittles. And now he was
here, in his second week on the job.
The bar wasn't crowded at this time of day, and Nightsky Stars had checked on the two patrons recently, so he didn't have much to do beyond polish glasses. And whistle. And think.
Why am I here? They could automate this job. Just have a dispenser that spits out drinks as well as food. None of the regulars seem to want to talk to me.
The owner had been wonderful, an older human woman. He'd shaken her hand carefully, and she'd caressed the fur on the back of his hand with a thumb, looking over his black-and-white coloration. "You're perfect." Then she'd shown him the ropes, taught him how to pour drinks and serve food from the auto-kitchen. Now she was gone. It was just him and his bar. And his whistle.
The door cracked open a bit, and Nightsky looked over to see a young woman's face glance around the bar before locking onto him with manic intensity. A grin slowly spread across her face, and she pushed the door wide open and stepped inside. "Why
hello there." She glanced over her shoulder, down the station hallway outside and called out with a note of glee. "Oh
giiirls. Guess what I found?" She pranced into the bar and took a seat front and center, leaning in. "I'm Thule KE-1292, but call me Jian."
Oh. Thules. Didn't... da warn me about them? "Listen here young man. Stay away from those Thules. I know their type, and they aren't good for a proper young man like you." But it's just serving them drinks, right?
Nightsky blinked as a dozen more woman came into view, all clad in identical casual uniforms and with identical features. They all seemed to light up in excitement as soon as they glanced inside the bar, and poured in to take up all of the space along the bar. He was soon bustling around serving drinks and getting food for them. Each Thule seemed to want to talk and coo over him, often laying gentle hands on his wrist as he served their liquor.
They asked after him, his habits, his home, seeming more delighted by every answer. They loved that his name was "Nightsky" and made jokes about a fighter hundreds of years out of date. Often those jokes ended by complimenting his youth and the softness of his fur.
But he could never get deeper into conversation with any of them before another called him away. Nightsky felt frazzled, constantly busy and without a second to himself. Then the door opened again and he looked up to see another group of Thules in the door, already with anticipatory grins on their faces. They filled every table in the place, and only then did he even notice that the regulars had all drifted out at one point or another as the night had gotten louder with woman drinking and laughing and looking at him with coquettish eyes.
The next few hours had him run off his feet, always moving to another table, getting more drinks and stopping for a word and a touch from another of the pilots. He felt like the center of attention, like half the bar was hanging on his next word at any given moment. And they kept touching him. He didn't feel
cool. He felt wanted, even desired, but not cool. He shook his head to clear sweat from his ears and the eyes of every person in the place watched the motion with greedy eyes.
He flinched back, feeling suddenly very much in the center of a spotlight he hadn't asked for. At that very moment the door banged open once again to reveal another Thule. But this one was older, with lines on her face to go along with the hard expression. She scanned across the room and her eyes came to rest on Nightsky where he was nearly cowering behind the bar. Her eyes flashed. "All of you, tone it down." She pointed straight at him. "You, Walk with me."
The words weren't an invitation. They were a command. Nightsky felt pinned again, once more subjected to scrutiny he hadn't asked for. But this time it also offered an escape from the dozens of other eyes following his every move. He walked quickly, striding for the door.
"Aww, Commander!" "But he's
so cute." "Stealing all of our fun for yourself!" A chorus of complaints followed him out, and he breathed a sigh of relief when the door swung shut behind him.
Not cool.
"I must apologize for my girls." The older Thule said, a scowl on her face. "It's been a long patrol, and I had them flying nonstop to simulate a running battle for the last week. Come." She gestured down the passage.
He followed, glad to get away from the eyes pressed against the crack around the door. Once they'd turned a corner he shivered. "What - why?"
She sighed, taking a moment before answering. "We're a hard breed, the Thules. We fly hard, we fight hard. And we party hard. But we like soft things, to remind us that we're fighting for something worthwhile. So that when we're alone in the harsh void we can remember that there's more than hardness out there. That something soft is waiting for us." She gestured towards him, careful not to touch. "That's how they see you. Silky, adorable. Something to be treasured in the gaps between the blackness."
They walked in silence for a time. Nightsky was trying to process everything as they navigated the station that had been his home for the last few weeks. Out of the viewports he saw the ship that had docked. It was enormous, nearly as large as the station it was attached to.
When he didn't say anything, the commander continued. "It's unfair to you, I know. We placed this burden on you without asking. I'm sorry. But -" She paused again, seemingly uncertain about the next words. "That bar is a spacer bar. This will happen again. The other deck is going to hear about a young Yeeni with starry fur." She stopped and swallowed, turning to face him. "and again with the next ship that docks. I'm sorry, but if you don't like this, then you should think about getting a different job."
Nighsky Stars took a deep breath, looking out of the viewport, at the ship and the glittering points of light beyond. "What kind of ship is that?"
The commander's lips quirked. "A Taurus-Secundus troopship. The
Solace of Saget. We're practicing fast troop deployments while on internal patrols."
"How many Thules aboard?"
"About a thousand. I have three hundred as two flights for my fighters, the rest for Commander Nagasi's bombers. Spares for casualties."
"And you - you fight for the Federation?"
She tilted her head. "We do. Not much recently, but when war blooms, we will be there."
Nightsky looked back out of the viewport, studying the lines of the ship. Imagining the women in his bar flying and fighting and
dying while - while thinking of him.
What is being cool but commanding people's attention? When I got this job I wanted to be the quintessential bartender, a reliable presence who was always ready with a quip and a drink when the heroes walked in the door. Now it happens, and I'm not ready for it. Well, like your da said. "You can never be ready for the crisis. You can only face it with everything you have when it comes."
He felt a smile stretch his lips, and he held a hand out. "Does a Commander need to be reminded of softness too?"
She laughed, and took his hand, stroking the soft fur with her thumb. "I won't tell you to breathe the void, that's sure and certain! But if you're ready, we should go back. My girls would never forgive me if I kept you to myself." Her expression softened and she met his eyes. "Only if you're ready."
He nodded. "I am." And he strode back to his bar, and the patrons who had come to visit him. Whistling.