THE EXPANSE: Whispers From Above (Expanse/Flying Circus AU quest)

[DragonCobolt]

This is a bad idea.

You pull out your handheld and tap out a single name.

—​

You're at the counter of Rotti's for an hour and a half, nursing some truly abysmal tea that couldn't decide if it was black, green or some kind of curdled yellow. You kept waving off the request for an orders and the owner of Rotti's - Rotti - scowled at you.

"You're making a bad decision again, pampaw," he says, which is what he's been calling you since your first time you ate there, two years ago.

See, it was funny because Rotti is a grizzled old rock faced Belter who has soaked up enough rads with his face to count as a kind of lead lining. His eyes are milky white and he gets around with a cane and his own sense of hearing, while you're twenty one years old. But he's calling you the pampaw.

You smile at him, then tense as the stool next to you gains something rawboned and rangy.

You glance over.

Jos nods at you.

"Nice hat," he says.

"I can't find anything reasonable to compliment about your hair," you say.

Both of you chuckle. Nervously. Warily. Like two ships that have no transponders and are settling into an orbit that is almost firing range, not quite not firing range, dark enough that you can't tell who's carrying what until the guns warm up.

"So," Jos lifts two fingers. Rotti, shaking his head and muttering obscenities under his breath about idiots and airlocks, turns. When he turns back, he puts down two mushroom sakes on the counter. "Tell me about them Goths, Engles."

—​

ISA


"No. I'm captain."

Wulfe's ears are pinned back against her head - but rather than looking dangerous, she's just looking increasingly cute. You do your best, in your slightly addled state - too high on adrenaline, on whatever drugs Shed had put you on, on the dizzying possibility that you barely even had the courage to…that…

That the Gods might…

You pushed it out of your head, but before you could stop yourself, you say: "Well, that's weird. Ship, who do you think is captain?"

A synthesized voice plays from the console. "You are, User 1."

You spread your arms while remaining strapped down in the seat. "I mean, I dunno about you-"

Wulfe snarls slightly. "Hey-" she starts forward, but is stopped by Amos hooking a big finger through her collar.

"Whoa, Cap," he says, casually. "Lets all calm down here. If you swing, then I gotta swing, and then Sharky's gotta swing, before you know it, everyone here's dead except me, and…honestly, I don't wanna be captain." He shakes his head. "So, lets all just settle down and talk this out."

"...damn, Amos," Alex says, laughing. "You sound almost like the Old Man."

"He's never aimed me wrong so far," Amos says, shrugging.

Wulfe huffs. Her ears twitch, wriggle, then settle. She closes her eyes. "Okay," she says. "Now, I admit…you have technical control over my ship-"

"Our ship?" you say, trying to be amenable.

"...our…ship," Wulfe says. "But I'm still the captain with experience. So…" She holds out her hand, then grins. "Co-captain?"

You nod, slowly, glancing at Arren. He nods as well.

"Co-Captain," you say.

"Now, the big question: Where do we go from here?" Alex asks.

"We should return this ship to the proper authorities at the Herja Congressional Republic," Minna says, immediately. "T-There…might not have been any at the Academy. On Herja. But…but there has to be some somewhere."

"Oh, darlin'," Alex says, quietly, reaching out to squeeze Minna's shoulder. "I know this is hard to take, but…Herja's…not…a thing anymore. It was dying well before the War. Now, it's just got right assholes who are stealing her honor and using it to excuse all kinds of crimes."

Minna ducked her head forward. She lifted it, opened her mouth, closed it, then ducked her head back down again. "I see…" she says.

"But hey, uh…" Alex's eyes soften. "Think on it like this, this makes this legitimate salvage."

Amos nods. Minna doesn't look particularly cheered up.

"How about Briganti?"

The voice is Shed's, pushing into the room, looking at the lot of us with a little smile.

"That's not a half bad idea," Alex says.

"No," Wulfe snaps. "Not Briganti."

"Come on, Patches," Amos says. "Your mom and dad have to be missing you by now."

"Yeah, that's why not Briganti!" Wulfe says, her ears pinning back.

"Your mom's a great programmer," Alex pipes up. "Never seen a sysop she can't crack."

"Hey!" you say.

Wulfe does perk up.

"And Briganti is a free port - they let you approach without transponders if their IR doesn't show any weapons hotted up," Shedd says, his voice excited. "We can remass, get some fuel pellets. Maybe…get a job? With our fancy new ship? Eh? Ehh?"

Wulfe nods. "True…"

You and Arren exchange a glance. He subtly nods - he thinks Briganti is a good idea. And you have to admit…you don't have any better options. And without a change on the transponder and the name, this ship is going to be hotter than plutonium. You sigh, quietly.

"Okay," you say, quietly.

"And you get to meet Wulfe's mom and dad," Amos says. "You'll like em, Lucky."

"Isa," you say, absently.

"Yeah, like I said, Lucky," he says, slapping your shoulder.

"Burning to Briganti is going to take ages if we do it at a tenth of a G," Wulf says, the smirks at you and Arren. "Unless you two think you can adapt?"

"Oh, we can totally adapt," you say.

Wulfe's grin is…

Well.

Woflish, you suppose.

—​

The less said about the four days between the expanding cloud of complex vapor that was the Donnager and Briganti Station, the better. You were on so many drugs, and had to do so many horrible exercises to adjust to 1G of acceleration, that it felt a bit like torture. But…to your shock, you and Arren adapted to it faster than anyone else on the ship. Shed, who was an Erder born, kept whistling and shaking his head with your daily checkups.

You didn't know what everyone else did with their spare time. Your time was mostly spent being miserable, eating, sleeping - and having horrible dreams of being slowly squashed by freezing ice or blazing hot boulders, being trapped between layers of something vast and alien. When the torment came to an end…you had to admit, you appreciated the new muscles you found growing in your arms and belly. It was a workout you hated, but…hey, workout plus drugs plus literally not being able to slack off because you were always doing it equaled Arren looking cut.

You…

Maybe had to thank Wulfe.

Eventually.

When your bones stopped aching.

Briganti Station itself was quite a place, viewed through the crisp, clean cameras on the skin of your legitimate salvage. It was a double torus station, big enough for thousands of people, parked next to the hollowed out shell of the asteroid. It had been cut open and mined and mined and mined - and now was nothing but a bunch of rock around a big cavernous space that could be used as an 'in void' construction yard. It was nothing next to the biggest yards of the system…but even being in fifth or sixth place made it astoundingly busy.

"Dang, I think some of these ships are only slightly less well armed than ours," Shed says, counting hulls as the legitimate salvage (no one had come up with a name yet and no one wanted to bring it up while you and Wulfe were being 'co-captains'), while Amos nods.

"Plenty of pirates," he says. "If we have a bounty on our heads, we should be ready."

Wulfe nods. "Yeah, let's leave, uh, Shed and Minna on the ship. You two can keep an eye on things. Turn the PDCs on and fricassee anyone who looks at us funny."

"What?" Shed asks.

"I will not abandon my co-former-captives," Minna said, stubbornly.

"Then we leave behind Arren," Wulfe says.

"No," Arren says.

"Listen, cap, it's fine," Alex says. "I'll stay behind with Shed."

"He's one of Wulfe's!" Minna says, but you put your hand on her shoulder, gently. She blushes, her dark skin going darker. "...but he is also a good Herjan."

"Why thank you!" Alex says, smiling at her.

You smile. "So, me, Wulfe, Amos, Arren and Minna visit Wulfe's parents."

Wulfe groaned.

"Fine."

When you head to the airlock, Minna whispers into your ear. "Do you know her parents?" she asks.

You shake your head. "Her surname is Inaros, I think."

Minna frowned. "...Inaros…" she says, quietly, as the airlock doors open and you drift into the axial corridor of Briganti, where circular rings of handles set against the wall at the end of spiderweb catwalks. Snagging them, you were swept to the elevators that freighted people up and down to the rings of Briganti. Minna was looking deep in thought. Arren, though, was tapping away at his handheld, skimming through files - right, you hadn't had access to the solar network until now…sending up a long distance com request might have twigged any number of people as to your ship being flying free and easy.

Wulfe lead you along the surprisingly broad set of corridors and intersecting open areas that made up the inner edge of the Briganti's upper ring - and then stops before a doorway leading into an apartment complex area. Arren grabs your sleeve and you glance his way as you step in after Wulfe. He stumbles with you.

"...Isa…" he whispers. It's not physically possible for his face to pale and, yet, somehow, he looks completely bloodless as he holds up his handheld.

The newsfeeds are bright red and stark…and from years ago.

That doesn't change what they say.

INAROS CLAIMS CREDIT FOR ERDE ATTACK!

15 BILLION DEAD - AND COUNTING

ECOLOGICAL COLLAPSE?

ASTEROID STRIKE: FREE NAVY CREDITED

Your blood runs as cold as the ice under your homeworld.

The face of Marco Inaros shines from Arren's handheld - and you can see how he might have led to Wulfe. She has his angular beauty and his eyes and wolf ears. But his smile lacks all of her playfulness - his eyes are burning bright, even in the photographs. You and Arren freeze - while Minna whispers. "Oh. That's where I heard that name before."

The door Wulfe stands before opens as she turns to face you, unaware that you have a picture of her father floating right under the door in your field of view. "Okay, guys. Uh…this is my dad." She jerks her thumb as a shockingly beautiful, tall-for-an-Erder man with raven black hair and faintly watery blue eyes steps out. He has a thin layer of cheek fuzz that is dark black against his pale skin, but his black T-shirt is tight to his muscles, which are clearly well defined. He's holding a cup in his hand that he's in the middle of drying off with a hand towel.

You blink at him.

Look down at the photo of Marco Inaros.

Up at him.

Down at the photo of Marco Inaros.

Up at him again.

"That's…your Dad?" Arren asks, as Wolfe scowls, then snatches his handheld from his nerveless grip.

Wulfe's…Dad (?) laughs as he leans over her shoulder. "I thought you were going by Wolfe Nagata these days?"

"Yeah, well, I…shut up…" she mutters as…an ice pick realization slams into the back of your brain, forceful and pointed. You scramble, pull out your handheld, but it's not the internet you go to. Media. Books. You tap, then look down at the camera of your most read book, then up…

At…

"James…fucking…Holden," you whisper, slowly.

James Holden chuckles. "Hey," he says, holding his hand out. "Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated."

You gape at the hand of your biggest idol ever and start to hyperventilate.

—
What do you do?
[ ] Faint
[ ] Scream
[ ] Bombard him with questions
[ ] Write In

 

[DragonCobolt]

You had to keep your cool. You had. To. Keep. Your cool.

The first thing that happens is that your chromes start glowing bright red and green, flickering in a cheery pattern. James Freaking Holden looks concerned. "Are you okay?"

"ThaaaaaAAAtttt's normal!" you squeak as your gills flick open and begin to buzz as you feel completely and utterly mortified. ARren puts his hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking so hard that you're shocked the entire station isn't quivering with him. "Normal! Fine!" You clap one hand over your left gills, so your right keep buzzing as you breathe out of them in excitement.

"Are your gills all right?" Holden asks.

"I'm just allergic!" you say, hurriedly. "To, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, air!"

Holden gives you a look. A look of concern and worry. A look of genuine actual concern. For you. For your stupid head. You realize that your jacket if half unzipped, and as you try and stop your chromatophores flashing and your gillz buzzing, Arren is saying: "Show him the shirt."

"Uh, what shirt?"

"Ooh, yeah, show him the shirt, Co-Captain," Wulfe says, her voice filled with malicious intent.

"Do you need a vac suit or…" James Freaking Holden stops as Wulfe bounds forward, then jerks the zipper down on your jacket and she and your vicious, evil, horrible, awful, most worst ex boyfriend forever (ex boyfriend for a million years) work together to pull your jacket apart to show James Freaking Holden, the actual James Holden…

"Huh," he says. "I look really doofy don't I?"

You're…

You're wearing your Remember the Cant shirt. It wasn't just your favorite shirt, it was also your most comfortable one. Holden's heroic features look out from it, identical to the man standing across from you, save that he's looking amused and not solemnly heroic. Your brow furrows and confusion actually cuts across your embarrassment and excitement.

James Holden…doesn't just look like his face on your shirt. He looks identical.

Like.

Not a day older.

"Wulfe, baby!"

A new voice joins the fray. An older woman - a belter, with hair that was streaked here and there with gray - steps out and sweeps Wulf into her arms and away from you (good, because you were going to strangle her), drawing her in close and squeezing her. Wulfe squirms.

"Mom!"

"Hah! You owe me five dollars, Jim!" The belter says, pointing at James Freaking Holden, who laughs.

"What?" Wulfe asks.

"I was sure you'd stick to Nagata," Holden says, casually.

"I knew you'd-"

"Lemmi go, Nagata!"

Naomi Nagata pinches Wulfe's cheek, tugging on it.

—​

The cubbyhole apartment that James Holden and Naomi Nagata share is the coziest place you've ever seen. The walls have a few stills and images from Erde and other scenic spots around the solar system, and a few photos that look like they're from Holden's life. Seven people, all different, posing around a young child. James in his LNN uniform, cheerful and smiling. An autographed copy of The Rings of Geirskögul, which looks like it was signed by the actual author of the whole series, Monica Stuart.

The food's amazing too.

You…

You want to cry, kind of?

Arren has his arm around you (you've decided to rescind him being an ex-boyfriend for a little bit, as a treat) and you try and hide how emotional you're feeling. It's not…just that you're meeting James Holden, the guy who literally saved the solar system…

It's just…

You'd never expected to see a family that was just so effortlessly, easily in love with each other.

"So, anyway, Wulfe got into the air duct system of our little freighter, the Chetsmoka," James was saying.

"Daaaaaaaaad!" Wulfe groaned, covering her arms over her head. "I was, like, a baby!"

"You were fourteen, Wulfe," Naomi said, and the entire table erupted into laughter. Minna, proving she was still very Herjan, was drinking an almost Erder of beer. Erders drank to such ludicrous excess compared to Belters, it wasn't even funny. This meant that Minna was a bit tipsy, and she was showing her laughter more - and then hastily trying to hide it. Wulfe huffed and scoffed, and Arren, shaking his head as he dug his fork into his red kibble, asked.

"So, like…how…did all this happen?" he paused, then flushed. "I mean…if it's not prying."

Naomi sighed, then glanced at James and Wulf. Eee! James! You were thinking of him with his first name sometimes! James nods, and Wulf sighs. "She's…okay."

You kick her under the table.

"Mostly," Wulfe says.

Your eyes lock.

Shivery squirmy feelings shoot along your spine, straight to your belly. Your gills clamp in tight and Arren, not noticing, leans in a bit.

"Well," James says. "It was the war. You…you've read the Last Flight of the Canterbury?"

You nod hastily. Then try and turn that nod into something less so…so…obviously nerdy. Playing it cool as a cucumber, you say: "Yeah, uh…is it accurate?"

"Surprisingly so," James says, dryly. "Me in an aging LNN heavy cruiser against an entire Free Navy battlegroup, lead by Admiral Ashford himself. The guy had completely lost it by this point." You nod hurriedly, leaning in with Arren. "The rest of the Navy had gone into hiding, but he was leading his last six ships in a run on the agricultural orbital around Skathi. It was one of the last surviving really big agricultural centers that weren't on Erde. Without it…" He shakes his head. "Well. I didn't have the exact math, but it would be bad."

You nod. "T-They say without it, the entire inner and outer system would have hit a total foodchain collapse. Each colony didn't have enough…basic complicated biologicals and stuff to, uh, to make sure their enclosed ecosystems don't go into runaway collapse and stuff!" You blush as James nods at you.

"Exactly," he says. "I tried to talk him down."

Your eyes shine. "Even after the massacres?"

"What can I say, I'm an optimist," James says. "But…yeah, the battle…went pretty much how Monica wrote it down in the book. Enough people filmed it."

"W-Were you scared?" you ask.

…Isa.

Isa.

Isa.

Isa. What kind of STUPID QUESTION WAS-

"No, actually," James says, shaking his head. "We were all pretty sure we were going to die. So, we just wanted to make sure we at least took Ashford down with us. And, you know, hopefully save the solar system."

"Wow," you whisper.

"...how did you survive?" Minna asks. "The Canterbury was hit by three atomic warheads at the same time your final PDC salvo ripped Asford's frigate in half."

James sighs, slowly. "To this day…I don't know. During the final maneuvers, I blacked out. Extended high G and all that. When I woke up, I was in a spacesuit, drifting in space. If I wasn't found by Naomi…" He glanced at her and she nodded, solemnly. "Well. We got to know eachother and haven't been apart sense."

"Awww!" You can't keep it in.

"And Wulfe?" Arren asks.

"She's my daughter," Naomi says, firmly. Wulf blushes and looks away.

—
…and, uh…
[ ] Ask about Inaros
[ ] "So, why haven't you told everyone you're alive!?"
[ ] "So, like…you're…remarkably…like…it was fifteen years ago and you don't look like you've aged a day!" (realize you sound like you're hitting on him) "Not that I'm hitting on you!"
[ ] Write In

 

[DragonCobolt]

You and Arren speak at the same time. "So, Wulfe has like, NINE grandpar-"

"You're looking remarkably-"

"-parents-"

"-Preserved-"

Your two sentences crash into one another like a high speed asteroidal collision, and provoke a warm chuckle from James. "One question at a time," he says, standing to walk over to the coffee machine. "But, uh…right, Monica got all my family in the books, didn't she?"

You blush. "They're, uh, mentioned." You feel awkward all of a sudden.

"...they, uh…they're gone," James says, softly.

"Oh." You squirm. "Sorry."

James walks back, then sits next to Naomi. "It's okay, it's been a long time," he says, but he still looks sad. Wulfe punches his shoulder, then grins at you.

"What was it your boyfriend was saying?"

"Oh, uh…" Arren coughs. "Nevermind, it's nothing."

"Something about preserved?" Wulfe asks.

"He did mention something about that," Minna said, nodding.

Arren's gills tighten against his neck and he coughs, and you leap in immediately. "Well, like…you're remarkably…I mean…it was fifteen years ago and you don't look like you've aged a day! You look…great! Like, for your age!" You realize, with a lurch like deceleration, that it sounds like you're hitting on James freaking Holden, with his wife right freaking there, right next to him, watching you, right there. Your cheeks flash as your chromatophores start glittering green and you throw out: "Not that I'm hitting on you!"

Naomi laughs into her hand while James smiles at you - but it's such a Dad smile that it makes you want to stick your head between your thighs and curl into a ball until you CEASE to EXIST.

"I guess I just got good genes," he says. "Must be from all the times I got exposed to radiation." He pauses. "Oh, uh, Arren. Make sure you two have backups." He nods. "Take it from me, even if you two end up breaking up, you both will want to have storage on, uh…you know. That kind of thing."

Arren smiles. "Actually, uh, way ahead of you, uh, Mr. Holden."

This is dangerously close to 'no, it's fine, my boyfriend doesn't need a condom, his sperm is banked and he's snipped' for an evening dinner conversation with your former kidnapper's adoptive parents, so you hastily yank things around by saying: "So, uh, wanna hear about our new spaceship?"

James and Naomi's face start to shift as you tell the story. Naomi leans her head forward, hiding her face behind her hair. James breathes in, then breathes out again, and then shakes his head a bit once you're done.

"Goths," he says. "I hate those guys."

"Yeah," Wulfe says. "Now…it's not all bad news. I have a new ship now!"

"It sounds like you have a new ship," James says.

"I mean…" Wulfe glances over at Arren and you. "I guess. Yeah. We do."

"What's your plan?" Naomi asks from behind her curtain of hair.

"Uh, track down the original person who owned the ship that Minna was flying," Wulfe says, jerking her thumb at Minna. "Then we start asking questions - like, say, what the fuck would get an entire Gothic battleship out to find them."

James nods. "That…sounds like a good plan," he says, after only a faint hesitation.

Minna frowns. "Excuse me…forgive me if this is a rude question: But why, exactly, are you two so willing to allow your daughter to rush into deadly dangerous combat, while remaining behind, when you are one of the most decorated LNN officers in the history of the solar system and you are apparently a renowned OPA hacker?"

Everyone looks at Minna.

Minna pauses. "...was that…a rude question?"

"No, it's…" James opens his mouth, searches for a way to say it. "I…can't…do these kinds of things anymore." He shifts and you can tell, under the table, he and Naomi are holding hands. Tight. "Not after Skathi."

Silence.

James sighs, then stands up. "I, uh…you guys can stay here, and Naomi will work up a new IFF transponder code thingy for you." He nods and you all nod, and then Naomi and he are off, Naomi walking with him, murmuring quietly.

You hear, just before she leaves: "Don't worry, I got the…"

And then they're out of the room.

"So, like, your dad's pretty cool," Arren says.

"He's way better than Marco," Wulfe says, shrugging one shoulder.

"If that's the case, why did you fly as Captain Inaros, Wulfe?" you ask, your brow furrowing.

Wulfe flashes a grin, her ears perking up. Her one good eye gleams.

"Because it…really fucking pisses Marco off."

—​

Wulfe shows you to the bathroom while Arren gets the bed in the guest room comfy - he's going to have to find room for you and Minna. Wulfe points. "Mirror, sink, toilet…" she says.

"I know how bathrooms work," you say.

"Just checking," Wulfe says.

You notice that, above the mirror, is a placard.

EVERYTHING IS FINE

"...that's mildly unsettling," you say.

"It helps Dad," Wulfe says, distracted, reaching up to rub her finger along the strap of her eyepatch. "Back up, I call dibs on brushing my teeth." She steps into the room and you stay in the doorway, watching her. Wulfe tugs her eyepatch off without a care - and you see that her eye really is a snarl of ugly, ingrown flesh. Tight. Scarred. Knotted. Its like someone tried to put an eye in there but all they got out was cancer. Wulfe doesn't see you staring - but she still says: "By the time Marco got baby me back to port, the eye was gone. And since there was a war on…" She splashes water against her face, sighing. "No good regrowth gels or cybernetic replacements. The doc said they had to scoop it out but…Marco, ever the optimist, was sure his little Phillip…" She spits the name out as she slathers toothpaste on her toothbrush. "...could pull through."

"Oh," you say. Not sure what else to add.

Wulfe brushes her teeth, then spits into the sink. "He was a dick," she says, then looks at you, grinning, her teeth all white and sudsy with the toothpaste forth. "...do, you gonna stick around while I shower, or you gonna join me?"

Your chromatophores immediately go off.

"Eyy! Gotcha!" Wulfe laughs.

"I have a boyfriend!" You squeak. Instead of fleeing. Which is what you should be doing.

"Then why do you keep staring, Morganthau?" Wulfe asks, then rinses her mouth. She slips past you, with a mischievous grin, leaving you flushing and trembling.

She's such a jerk.

And hot.

And cute.

And funny.

And a jerk.

And her parents are famous and…

She's a jerk.

And hot.

You realize you've been running that loop long enough that the corridor has become dark and quiet - and you can hear the faint sounds of conversation from the bedroom nearest to the kitchen. The door is cracked just open enough to let a thin line through…and you recognize Naomi's voice.

Hmm…

—
…it is right there…
[ ] Listen, listen, listen, listen! Hope you don't get caught!
[ ] No. You are a good guest. You are going to brush your teeth, crawl into bed with your boyfriend, and not fantasize about your host's daughter.
[ ] Write In

 

[DragonCobolt]

You close your eyes. Step back.

Go to the bathroom.

And brush your teeth.

The conversation goes quiet before you're done.

You think Naomi is crying.

You hurry to the bedroom.

—​

You wait, breathlessly, for Minna to be snoring softly. Then, even softer than her breathing, you whisper. "Arren."

"Hmm?"

He shifts in the darkness of the tiny cubby hole room. Your bed is a niche in the wall, and at your word, Arren reaches up. You worry that he's going to turn on the overhead light, but instead, he hooks his finger and with a whisper smooth clicking noise, a partition slides down, closing you into the niche bed, making a private room in your private room.

Then he turns on the light, to a low dim, so he can look at you.

You feel…

Gods, it's hard to hit the right…note of how you feel. It's like being back home again - but in all the best ways, the ways that were so rare and scarce, the ways you'd blasted off into space to find. You were alone, with Arren.

Safe.

Safety meant you could relax. It meant you could… grin. "How good do you think the soundproofing is?"

No need to worry about a lock.

He glances at it, looks at it. "I mean, it's a nice guest room…" He pauses. "We do need to sle-"

"I know, I know," you say.

Arren was always the one who knew when to sleep.

You'd…

You still had an issue with sleeping. It wasn't dreams, not…exactly. You hadn't even dreamed about the old bastard when you had been under a hard burn. It was more…it was more that your time where you could be yourself was so precious and rare.

Sleep stole that time.

So you worked with, like, a fraction of what you were supposed too.

Sleep? Orrrrrr you can fuck me, is your…isntinctive reaction.

Well. Okay. You now have an ace in the hole if this conversation goes completely off the deep end. You can just slide your pants down, and smooth things over with... No. Fuck. Fuck, no, no, bad. Bad. That's not how you were ever going to do things with Arren. Never. Never, ever.

Quietly, you say: "I just…I know, we'll sleep soon." You nuzzle against his side, reveling in the contact. In the hisness of this touch - his smell, his texture.

"Okay," Arren says, quietly. His hand slides along your back. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Right," you say. 'The past few days have been so crazy and…and there's stuff I want to get off my chest." You flush, your finger sliding along his chest gently. God the working out has been doing…things to…you shake your head. Focus, Isa. "So, Wulfe."

This is wrong, the thought is as immediate as the word out of your mouth.

"Yeah?"

But it's not your thought.

"What do you think of her?" You ask, and it's a little rebellion to the cop in your head. To the priest in your head.

"She's…nice," Arren says.

Nice.

Nice?

That one word does more than anything to jarr your brain out of its current track and onto a new one: Goggling at your boyfriend.

NIce!?

The arrogant, cute, sexy space pirate that literally met you by pointing a gun in your general direction before charging with you through an entire Goth battleship…was nice. Arren sees your expression and his gills flutter shyly. "And...her Dad's cool."

"Arren," you say, crooking yourself up on an elbow.

"What?" he asks.

"C'mon," you say, then poke his chest. The need to hear what he thinks is stronger now. "You can tell me. Fess up."

"Uh, only if you promise to not get mad," he says.

Your stomach feels like it has fallen away. Like you're decelerating away from the station. Like this tiny little pod is way, way, way, way too small. Like Arren's skin feels white hot. You flick your tongue along your lips while Arren watches for a nod.

"Yeah, sure. Promise," you say. Casual. Cool as a cucumber. Soo Casual. You're Isa Casual Morganthau and not freaking out a little.

Arren nods.

It still takes him what feels like five minutes but can't be more than thirty seconds to finally say something again: "Wulfe is…"

"Uh-huh?" you ask, your guts knotting. You don't know why you're so nervous, except what Arren says next will change what you say next and…and also, this feels…so…racy. Like, you and Arren had had long conversations about a bunch of things. But not about girls. When the conversation had gone towards…people…it had been the subtle dance around your desperate crush on him and his blinding crush on you, until you had both blurted it out. Then…then words had been less important than fumbling and kissing and trying to find a way to turn off the security camera in storeroom A-199. And, tragically, failing.

Arren pauses again.

"Come on, Arren," you whisper.

"...she's so hot," Arren finally admits.

It was like an Epstein torch going off in your brain. It's like the whole solar system can be touched. It's like you're not a little freak. You're not alone.

Yeah, you're dating a freak. Shut up, cop-brain. Shut up! You dig your fingers into Arren, not just because you're excited. Because you're scared.

"She is!" you hiss.

Arren seems to relax back into a puddle of tension. "Like, god, I wanna kiss her, but she just… she really pisses me off too-"

You nod, bobbing your head fast enough to not think. What the hell did that mean?

"But, like… she reminds me of you when you get all-" Oh! That's what it meant!

"Kinda wanna, uhhh, dom her?" you guess. Casual. Soooo casual. Definitely not imagining it right now.

Arren is quiet for a long time again.

"...yeah."

Your hand glides along his chest. To his belly. Your brain is filled with dreamy half-images of Arren and Wulfe. Her arms above her head. Her ears perked up. Or…pinned back. Eye defiant. Or welcoming. Hazy fantasies that slip along a knife's edge between dark and bright.

"Kinda wanna…" you murmur. "Pin her down and…make her call you Captain."

Arren's voice is a shy rumble. Eager rumble. "...yeah."

His belly is very sleek. His shirt feels very thin. The fantasies are getting warmer.

"Call you Sir, maybe." You whisper it in his ear, so quiet you can barely hear it over the thundering in your chest. It was Arren, he'd never hurt anyone. Not her and certainly not you. The fantasies were safe.

Arren's body makes it very, very, very clear what he thinks of that. You whisper, giddy with excitement. "I wanna pet her ears."

"Mmm…" Arren groans. "You think she'd be into that?"

You nod.

"I bet…" you whispered, having no idea on either count.

"… We should find out…" he concludes.

Okay.

Okay!

This conversation had gone better than you could possibly have hoped.

What if he gets tired of you?

What if he dumps you for another girl?

What if you're just his Isa…and Wulfe is his Lottie?

No.

You clench your jaw, and you refuse.

It was time to celebrate. You tucked your knees against your chest, squirmed, then rolled onto your side and used your arm to rotate a hundred and eighty degrees. From there…it was all about managing height.

Didn't want to bonk your head, after all.

—​

You opened the sleeping pod and slid your feet out. The deck plating was colder than you expected. You stood, smiling arrogantly at the utter lack of discomfort from the chill as you glanced back at your still sleeping boyfriend, and then glanced over at Minna.

She was laying flat on her back, her arms tucked at her side, in a bed so neat that it looked as if she had…actually made it before she got into it. Her boots were racked up next to her so she could slip them on in a second's notice.

You felt…

You felt weirdly sad, looking at how ramrod stiff she was sleeping.

What you felt more, though, was bladder. So, you stepped from the room and headed for the bathroom.

On your way back out, you noticed that you weren't the only one up already. James Holden was already up and about, and he was quietly cleaning the kitchen, his handheld set out on a counter. He had an ear-bud in one of his ears, so he was listening to something. You dithered, not sure if you should go out to him or not -but then James Holden spotted you and pulled his ear-bud out.

"Minna?" He asked.

"Uh, Isa," you say, blushing, feeling obscurely disappointed as you stepped out.

"Right, sorry, dumb mistake," he says, shaking his head a bit. "Can't sleep either?"

"No, it's…it's not that early, is it?" you ask.

"It's, uh, 0520, local time," James says, smiling.

"Well, I just had to, you know…bathroom," you say, jerking your thumb. Nervous butterflies in your belly. "Are you okay?"

James nods. "Yeah, I'm fine, just, you know…" He sighs, looking at the kitchen. "Finding useful things to do with myself."

You hesitate, opening your mouth, then close it. You wanted to ask him about why he didn't adventure anymore, but-

"When you and, uh…" James picks up his handheld, subtly glancing at it, before sliding it into his pocket. "And Arren, your…boyfriend?" You nod, a bit confused - you'd…not exactly been subtle about that part. "When you two head out, can you promise to take care of my daughter?"

"Totally!" you say, nodding. "I mean, heh, she's going to be taking care of us just as much. And her friends, Amos, Alex."

"Right," James says, nodding with the polite expression of someone who clearly had no idea who you were talking about, but didn't want to show it. You'd recognized it from enough awkward large gatherings back home.

Didn't Amos say he picked stuff up from Holden? A tiny part of your brain whispers. Something's…wrong.

"You okay?" you ask.

"No, honestly, I'm not," James says, shaking his head. "But, you don't need to worry about me." He smiles. It's a pained smile. "I'm in good hands."

—
Hmm…
[ ] "…come on! You can come with us - you're the James Holden, big stuff's afoot. You and Naomi can fly again, one last adventure, right?"
[ ] "Do you have any advice? Since, we're going to be pulling a James Holden and all."
[ ] Write In

 

[DragonCobolt]

It comes blurting out.

"What happened to you out there?"

James Holden looks terribly lost for a while. "I, uh…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "We think I stroked out, during the last hard burn. I think the CMO of my ship managed to save me…but then when the Cant went down, I was ejected while I was out. Naomi found me drifting in my suit."

"Wow, I didn't realize…"

"That's not the worst of it. Maybe it was the stroke, or too long without oxygen in the suit. I…have…I have memory problems now. Docs can't figure it out. I wake up, every day, and I swear it's still the leadup to the battle. Like nothing's changed. I have to be…reminded. Every day. About everything that's happened since then." He sits down at the table, and hunches forward. "Naomi takes a lot of notes."

"Oh," you whisper, feeling the air rushing out of you, and pity exploding inside of you. "Nothing?"

"It's weird. Some days it's easier, stuff is familiar even if it's new. I don't remember getting married, but it feels like it's been decades. I don't remember coming here, but it already feels like home. I don't remember that we have a kid, but she's… she…" Holden looks lost and confused for a few more seconds - but then you can see him literally building himself back up again. His shoulders square. He lifts his chin. He smiles. "Hey," he says. "I…think of it like this. I get to fall in love with Naomi again every single day, and learn everything about Wulfe that makes me proud all over."

You want to burst into tears and hug him and run away and- just…everything. You gulp, past the lump in your throat. "Sorry."

"Don't be," he says, firmly. You nod, your eyes shining.

"Well. Um. D…Do…do you have any advice?" you croak around the lump in your throat - trying to act normal and brave like him, like James Holden, he's so brave ahhhhhh! "Since, I mean…we're going to be pulling a James Holden and all." You tried for a smile while your eyes glitter.

James Holden smiles, slightly. "Are you lucky?"

You blink at him.

"Yeah," you say. "I mean…" He's told you the truth. You have to do the same. "I got Arren, don't I?"

James Holden smiles, gently, at you. "Then you've got all the advice you need." He steps forward. "But, also, when a firefight starts, don't take cover in anything thin - even if it looks metal. Concealment doesn't matter as much as stopping the rounds. Fortunately, most people aren't shooting anything that'll blow holes through bulkheads. Next, if you're in a space battle, do not underestimate just how effective a well run point defense grid is. The guns shoot themselves, but good target selection and prioritization makes all the difference. And!" He leaned in and you mentally took notes.

And tried not to cry.

—​

HEINRICH


Being back together with Jos…er, that is, as partners, no, uh…as…coworkers…it did have some upsides. While you were both crammed onto a people mover that could ship from Sigdrifa to Hingabe without too many questions and a limited amount of up front capital, you had gotten a chance to catch up on your favorite celebrity gossip feeds while Jos was being violently ill in his sick bag.

"I hate space," Jos groaned.

"You live in space, setara mali," you say, without looking up from the latest feed.

"I'm a city Belter," Jos mutters and ducks his head forward between his legs, breathing shallowly as the ship rumbled and shook under a course correction. The interior of the room was essentially a set of six rows of chairs, a bunch of sleeping nooks on the walls that could be closed and sound proofed (badly) and there were a double set of doors leading back to the cafeteria, and the steam showers. The whole place was designed to cram a bunch of people in and if the pressures of close confinement got too intense during the days of travel, they'd gas you all and then separate out trouble makers.

It was not a very nice spaceship.

Fortunately, you had your feeds.

"You still read that trash?" Jos asks.

"I wouldn't trust you to understand the intense pleasure to come from parasocial engagement with heightened drama - the vicarious romantic thrills, the imagined conquests of heart and home, the victories, the defeats, the bitter sting of betrayal, all delivered with enough remove for me to enjoy it emotionally, without-"

Jos leans over and cuts you off. "Hedi Wagner caught in bed with her manager," he reads. "That's a recording, they stuck a camera in that lady's bedroom."

"I'll have you know, they didn't stick a camera in there," you say, huffily, scrolling past hastily. "...she was filming herself and the film got leaked."

"Not exactly winning any quiz shows, huh?"

"Hedi is…not…dumb," you say, trying to not sound irritated as irritation exploded through you. "She cares about people."

"Not her wife, though," Jos says.

"It's complicated!" you say, flushing. "Now! Let's see…" You looked back at the feed, skimming past, shaking your head. "A lot of this seems juicy, but the trick is to try and figure out what's real - like this?" You point at a bold, underlined headline: CUCKED BY HIS ENEMY: JAMES HOLDEN, ALIVE ON BRIGANTI! LIVING WITH MARCO INAROS' EX WIFE!? Read More to find out!

"You sure, sounds juicy," Jos says, his voice sarcastic. "And so believable."

"Oh ha ha," you mutter. You shift and settle back in the seat. "Okay. We're a day out from Hingabe. Our light lag latency is pretty low - we should start thinking about how we're going to investigate this."

"Well, my plan was to call up my old friend, Semi," Jos says.

"I'm pretty sure he was my friend first," you say.

"He gave me the hat," Jos says, frowning at you.

"Yeah, but he said he liked me more first," you say.

"And yet, here I am, with the hat," Jos says, pointing at himself, before turning it around and prodding your chest with it. "Before I gave it to you, kid."

You scowl at him as his finger. "Don't call me kid."

"Never stopped you calling me setera mali." Jos says, casually. You feel anger and bubbling inside you. Not anger bubbling, but anger and bubbling - an emotion you don't quite want to define yet. Your skin feels too tight as Jos turns and…he's so fucking hot at this angle? The sad puppy dog face, looked at side long, becomes a knife you just want to lick. "...or Daddy."

Your face flushes. "Well, you're not getting that again."

"Am I?" he looks at you, smirking.

—
Okay, how to begin your investigations. Both before you arrive and when you do.
[ ] hit up YOUR old friend, Semi, who is your friend first and not Jos' friend first - first online, and if he wants, IRL. See if he's heard anything about this Captain Polanski and their Scopulai.
[ ] Keep less people involved - go straight for the resellers and hit the bricks. Talk to people and keep moving.
[ ] Drag Muller into a cubbyhole and fuck his brains out.
[ ] Write In

 

[DragonCobolt]

You pull out your handheld and tap up your contacts.

"Calling Semi?" Jos asks.

"Yeah, I'm calling my friend," you say, frowning as the connection request buzzes in your hand. The connection blinked on and the smiling, dark features of Sematimba appeared, shrunk down in the palm of your hand. He beams at you.

"Well, well, if it isn't the prodigal son! Heinrich, what are you doing back around Hingabe?" he asked, curiously. "Looking to get some ships on the cheap or chasing a case?"

"The later, actually," you say, after waiting a beat to make sure that you've got enough lead up on the lightlag. Jos leans in and looks over your shoulder. "We're wondering if we could call upon your refined and dignified talents to-"

"Holy shit, is that Müller?" Semi says, too shocked to remember lagiquette.

"Hey Semi," Jos says with a tired smile, while Semi says, over him:

"Who the hell let that cradle robber within ten meters of you?"

"I'm hurt," Jos says, frowning, while Semi reacts with an eye roll to an expression he had seen a few seconds before - jarringly out of step. You put your hand on Jos' face, gently pushing his head back and away from the camera before he messes this up anymore. You wait…and then see Semi waiting for you. You sigh, then speak, slowly and carefully and very, very precisely.

"We are not anything. We are not together. I am on a case and Müller here is assisting me, as much as we'd all prefer he not." You nod. "I'm looking for a ship that went missing - the Scopulai, captain'd by Lionel Polanski."

Semi frowned. "Just a second."

His handheld connection breaks.

You tuck your handheld back into your pocket, turning to scowl at Jos.

"Your friend, huh?"

"I didn't realize he'd taken our relationship so seriously," Jos mutters.

"You never told me he was upset with the fact we were dating," you say.

"I never thought you'd want to be bothered by it, and if he didn't say anything to you…" Jos shrugged, spreading his hands as wide as he could in the narrow confines of your shared space on the people mover. "He didn't get it, I didn't push it."

"Did you at least tell him I moved on you?" you ask, feeling…faintly offended, like Semi had thought you were a little baby that needed his protecting.

"Yeah, that'll be convincing," Jos says, grinning at you sidelong. Your heart skips a beat and you chuckle.

"You weren't hard to convince," you say.

"And yet, here we are, sitting together in this POS, not on some cruise liner running for the gardens of Geirdriful…" Jos says, wistfully.

"That's cause we're broke as shit. Now and then." You lean your head against his shoulder without thinking and, without thinking, Jos slides his arm around your shoulders. You both freeze at the same second - snapped back to the present by your handheld chirruping. Semi was connecting again. You jerked away from Jos as if he was red hot and nearly brained a sleeping Believer on the seat next to you. Fortunately, you managed to jerk your arm around before hitting his jaw - and snatched your handheld from your pocket.

Semi was calling from a dark, quiet room - no background noise at all.

"You're not the first people to ask about Lionel," Semi says. "What the hell are you two mixed up in? This shit has Goths involved."

"Goths?" you ask, sitting up.

"...okay, I can't prove they're Goths. Officially, they're representatives from FVM Security - but I've checked, that corporation started up less than a year ago. But they have a bunch of military grade guns and a bunch of big packages they've moved on station - stuff that I'd bet my old hat were power armor components." He frowned. "They've been turning this whole station upside down looking for her."

"Lionel's a girl?" you ask, your brains skittering to a stop.

"No, Lionel Polanski is who registered the ship - she was brought in by a girl. Lyse. Nice kid. I have her hidden away - she…looked lost and scared and confused and said some guys were after her." Semi spread his hands. "Next thing I know, I'm lying to some legbreakers from FVM and Lyse hasn't had a chance to stick her head out of the flophouse I've stuck her in."

You and Jos exchange a look.

"What does Lyse look like?" you ask.

"Pretty," Semi says, smiling wryly. "Erder, without a doubt."

You frown, then tap at your handheld. "Does she look like this?"

"...yeah that's her," Semi says, looking at his own interface - at the picture you'd just sent. "She's got a new haircut, and different outfit, though."

The picture of Julia Sigaurd Theler-Mao.

"Who is this girl?" Semi asks. "And what do the Goths in disguise want her for?"

"How do you know they're Goths?" Jos asks, scratching at his narrow jaw, right where you used to kiss him after shaving. "They could be ex-League, right? Or HCR Marines? Or just some OPA toughs who raided the right arms depot?"

"The thinly disguised scorn was my first clue, the second was the big ass death's head tattoo on one of their wrists," Semi said. "Say what you will about Goths, but clever isn't one of them." He smirked, slightly. "So. Can you please clue me in on what the fuck I stuck myself into this time? And are you going to make it better or…or so much worse?"

Jos shrugs and looks apologetic.

—
What do you do?
[ ] Tell Semi everything you know - that she's the daughter of a billionaire on Erde who is up to her neck in the OPA.
[ ] Tell Semi part of the truth - she's an OPA agent related to what happened on the Donnager and that's why the Goths are interested.
[ ] Tell Semi nothing over the phone, just tell him to be ready to get you to Julia right when you arrive
[ ] Write In

 

[DragonCobolt]

You sigh, then lean back. "It's…maybe gonna be a bit worse, setera mali," you say, softly. "...she's OPA."

"Fuck." Semi purses his lips.

"...and she's related to whatever happened on the Donnager. And that's why the Goths are interested."

"Fuck."

You sighed. "Yeah."

—​

The docks at Hingabe aren't bustling like you'd expect. But you'd spent most of your life on Sigfrida, where even after the War, hundreds of thousands of people cycle in and out of the station at all times - but even before the War, Hingabe was already shifting away from being the forefront of the Inner Belt. It had started out as being a competitor to Sigfrida, back when there had been a tearing need for ships to exploit the newly opened up reaches of the solar system. But as ships got built and the asteroids had been hollowed out around Hingabe, the pressures of commerce had shifted.

Now, it was dying - and it clung to life by the only thing it had over Sigfrida.

You came to Sigfrida for trade.

You came to Hingabe for pleasure. Cheap, easy pleasure that you couldn't get anywhere else in the solar system - but even that wasn't really doing as much to keep the place alive as it used to, with traffic way down since the War. That was why you stepped out into a huge, open area that had dozens of brightly glowing signs aiming you towards a few dozen tunnels and side passages, each of them announcing which casino, brothel or theater you could get to…and why, also, nearly every sign had a big 50% going out of business sign on it.

If it wasn't shut down.

Jos stood beside you, narrowing his eyes as he swept his gaze back and forth, back and forth. He caught on something - nodding. "There's FVM, just like Semi said."

There were three security goons keeping an eye on everything, dressed in heavy looking armor that could have come right from Star Helix. Their logo is a wide pig-face, spraypainted on the black armor in gaudy golden pain. You frown a bit, then mutter to Jos. "What do you think the pig means?"

"Meat for the machine, Engles, just meat for the machine," Jos says, sounding tired. "Goths love that shit."

You snort. "Self destructive idealization of death and warfare, an inherently dead end philosophy. But pigs aren't anything like normal Goth symbols…"

"Yeah, that'll stop them killing you, stop looking at them," he says. One of the Goths is glaring right at you and you turn your back on him. "They're in disguise - it's not a Goth symbol. But it's totally Goth."

You shrug. "Where's Semi?" You try and put the FVM assholes out of your mind - it wasn't like they were hustling over to take you under arms. For all you knew, the Goths back on Sigfrida had barely any idea what you looked like, let alone sent the information here. For all you knew, they had your exact biometrics down to a T and were going to sweep in and grab you any second now. But then you and Jos spot the same thing, at the same time.

"Check-" Jos says.

"Hey-" you say at the same time. You glance at one another.

"I saw it first," Jos says.

You grin. He grins.

It's nice.

And the two of you amble off, as if heading to one of the not-quite closed down yet casinos - and you glance subtly over your shoulder. One of the FVM assholes is ambling after you. You casually kick the small hat that had been left hanging on a stud near the corridor, Semi's little hint to you, over as if it was nothing. People crowd in behind you and, the moment you and the FVM guy break eyeline, you grab Jos' hand and drag him into the niche between two casinos - a space normally meant for maintenance workers and licensed hookers. Your chests press together and Jos girns down at you.

Your heart beats fast as you turn - pressing your cheek against the crook of his neck, feeling the hard bump of his chin against the top of your head. The FVM asshole keeps walking past, hurrying forward, canting his head back and forth like he's trying to spot you through the crowd. You breathe out, slowly, and then nuzzle against Jos. "Lost him," you say, softly.

"Yeah." Jos says.

You and he look up into one another's eyes.

Your cheeks heat. "Come on."

Semi is right at the chain you and Jos expected him - the Hingabe branch of a chain that ran on Sigfrida's. Of course, thanks to the changes in supply lines and the war, the chain itself looked like it was cooking an entirely different cuisine than it used to - but that didn't matter. Red kibble was, at the end of the day, red kibble and as you and Jos sat to either side of Semi, he was polishing off his bowl.

"Were you followed?" he asked.

"And a good morning to you too, Semi," Jos says.

"Were you followed?" Semi glares, coldly, at Jos.

"No, the kid got us out of the way," Jos says.

You frown at him - and Semi shakes his head. "You two still feel like you should be against some kind of a law," he says, then leans back in the stool that he's using - hooking his fingers under the edge of the counter to keep from falling backwards. "So. I'm guessing you two want to meet your OPA contact?"

You nod. "Yeah," you say. "People are dying for this and we're here to find out why." You smile. "You always said you wanted adventure, right Semi?"

"That was because I was an idiot kid who thought being a cop meant catching bad guys," Semi said, then stood. "Come on."

The three of you head through narrow back connections - sideways junctions that slot together corridors that had never meant to be connected back when the station was new and made some kind of logical, rational sense. Doors opened and closed behind you and you walked in silence, looking back over your shoulder repeatedly to make sure you weren't being followed…but despite not seeing anyone, you felt a crawling suspicion that the FVM goons on the street were just the flashy, obvious weapon - while the knife was waiting in another.

Your sense of growing doom only got higher as you, Semi and Jos came to a flophouse in the worst part of the station. Semi walked, casually, past a body you were fairly sure was several hours dead, curled up under some trash and jackets - and then came to the front doors of the flophouse. You slip inside, with Jos taking up the rear. There's no one here, save for a woman at the front desk. She nods to Semi, Semi nods to her, and the three of you head up to the narrow corridors of the place. You can hear quiet groaning from one of the rooms.

Then, at last, Semi comes to a room that looks like it has a screen on, showing some entertainment feed from the amount of white light shining under the door. He raps twice.

The door opens.

And you and Jos look in at the bright, shining eyes of Julia Sigaurd Thele-Mao, back lit by a shimmering blue-white light.

She looks mildly terrified.

And you can guess why, considering it looks like her room is on fire.

—​

ISA


You, Minna, Wulf and Arren walked away from James Holden's hole with full backpacks and determination on the mind. At least…you had determination. You were filled with it, from your toes to your gills. Your hands tightened on the packs, while Wulf slouched along and grumbled.

"Mom could have at least tried hacking the computer," she said, shaking her head.

"Hey, our computer," Arren said.

"Technically, it is Herja military property," Minna said, quietly. "Even if the congressional republic is currently defunct." She sighed at that. "What is our plan?"

"We're going to Hingabe," you say, firmly. "We're going to find whoever sold the Dreki, aka, the Scopulai. Then we're going to figure out why a bunch of Goths are willing to set the whole solar system on fire to get it. Then…" You nod. "We're going to stop them."

"...we're going to stop them," Wulf says, slowly.

"Yeah," you say, blushing. It had seemed really cool and heroic when you'd thought it upa after your conversation with James Holden. Now you were realizing you might have maybe wanted to workshop it a little. "Like…they're obviously up to something bad! A-And…we have a gunship." Your voice is soft. "We can do something about it. Just like your Dad."

Wulfe's ears do a cute little twitch. Then she laughs, softly. "All right. Sounds fun."

"I'm down," Arren said, nodding.

"Yes," Minna said. "This seems like an excellent plan to me. Firstly, there is the fact that anything the Goth forces plan, such as they can be said to have a plan, would be a net negative for all of society. Secondly, there is the fact that they would already dislike us, as we have destroyed their prize warship. And thirdly…t-there is the fact…I am quite bad at being a merchant." She flushed, looking aside. "So, being a mercenary is a far better option."

"Not mercenary," Wulfe said. "If we were mercs, someone would be paying us. We're more…concerned citizens."

"Vigilanties," Arren suggested.

"Superheroes!" Wulfe said, brightening.

"Don't go too far," you say, laughing as you came to the docking area of Briganti Station. The gunship was there, waiting for you - and after you pulled yourself through the webwork of connective tissue, the airlock opened and inside, you found Shed, Amos, and Alex, none of them having shot anyone or gotten killed in the meantime. You beamed as you pushed aboard, feeling a strange rush of homecoming as you swung around into the now familiar antechamber before the belly airlock, while Wulfe came in to clasp Amos' hand.

"How's the old man? Still dead?" Amos asks, casually.

"Yeah, he's doing okay," Wulfe says. "All things considered."

You frown a bit at Amos - he has…brain problems, he's not dead. But then Alex is taking your hand, shaking it with a grin. "Welcome back, Cap," he says. "Er…Co-Cap, I guess."

"Thanks," you say. "...how long would it take us to get to Hingabe?"

"At one G?" Alex asks, scratching his jaw. "A two or three days, maybe less. The orbits work out pretty good for us - and the nice thing about one G is it gets you pretty much anywhere real quick. But-"

"One G is fine," you say, firmly. "Arren and I gotta work on our Erde legs."

"Yay…" Arren says, mock dryly.

"There's just one thing. Hingabe is a more, uh…official style station," Alex says. "We can't tool up there in this ship - it's registered to the HCRN…"

"That's where this comes in," Wulf says, aligning her backpack around, tugging out a collection of thin wafers and crystal chips and computer gear. "Mom bunged it together for me. We can use this to redo the IFF codes and transponder on this sucker - complete with a reworked history that will pass muster."

"Really?" Shed asks, nervously.

"Yeah, I mean, not before the War, before the War, we'd get spotted in five seconds - but since the War's made checking ships way harder, we're easy," Wulfe says, grinning. "Now, what do we call it? Mom shot down my first name suggestion of Wulfe's Harem Love Boat…"

"Aww, Patches," Amos says. "Didn't know you wanted my ugly mug like that."

"Nah, it's just those three," Wulfe says, jerking her thumb at you and Mina and Arren. Your face goes all hot even though she's joking and your heart hammers. Minna huffs.

"Since…that…won't be the name," you say, trying to…ha ha, what a joke, she's such a kidder, just…joking! Yes! That was the tone you were going for. "I'm open to suggestions."

"The Screaming Dragon!" Alex says.

Shed shakes his head.

You think.

—
What ship name?
[ ] Write In

 

[DragonCobolt]

Arren is the one who says it.

"...how about the Minnow?" he asks.

"Now! I like that!" Alex says, pointing at Arren, who grins sheepishly - how can someone with teeth that sharp smile in such a non-threatening way. "Since our cap, our co-cap, I mean, you're a fisher, so, like, it makes sense."

"Lucky got us the ship. Might as well name it after her," Amos said, slapping your shoulder.

"I'm not a minnow. I'm a shark," you say, and gnash your teeth.

"Sure thing, Lucky." Amos says, giving you a genial smile.

You and Wulfe exchange a glance. Wulfe gives you a look that says: Yeah, he's always like this. Aloud, she shrugs: "Minnow is cute, I guess. BUt we're a gunship."

"That means no one will see it coming, right?" Shed asks, nervously.

"Okay," you say. "Minnow it is. The Minnow."

Captain Isabella Morganthau of the Minnow, rings in your head, like a chiming bell. You smile to yourself. You could like that. You could like that a lot. You stepped away from the wall, then nodded again.

"Let's get to work."

Despite your words, a lot of your job turned out to be waiting for other people to do their jobs. Amos was the mechanic, Shed was the doctor - well, medtech - and both you and Wulf were the co-captains. Arren was working himself on the gunnery console, figuring out what buttons did what, as directed by Minna, who was going to be doing most of the actual shooting if you got into any real fight. But after you gave the order to get going, you weren't…exactly sure what to do next.

Mr. Holden had said, in his long advice ramble, that one of the things a captain should do is be, at least, familiar with everything that a ship can do. You can't be as good as your crew, but you should at least know what they're doing - so you can fill in. In a pinch.

So, you asked the CI to bring up all the technical specifications on the Minnow's ECM and EW systems and started to get a headache almost immediately - while Alex brought her out of dock and into space. Wulf stepped over to your chair as the engines rumbled on and Alex slowly brought it from a gentle burn to a crushing, hideous one G-burn. You hissed and clenched your teeth, but even the short respite in the station hadn't been enough to break your body's training. It was more…uncomfortable than painful, and the idea that you might get completely used to one G felt faintly…unsettling.

Like you were betraying your people, on a biological level.

There was kind of a social disconnect between Belters and Belters who were Fishers. At least, that's what your parents said. You hadn't seen much yourself - but you'd barely been beyond your home, beyond hanging with the crew of the Dryad, and all of them had seemed chill with weirdos. After all, they were trusted by James Holden and were following the orders of his daughter.

But part of that worry was…you were different. Deep in the bones and your muscles. Could you really be belters if you bounced back from a lifetime of null-G so well? Or…was it just that the Minnow had a huge store of expensive drugs that worked real good? Maybe every Belter could respond like this? Or maybe-

"You've read the same paragraph twice," Wulfe said, casually.

"Huh?" You blush, then tab forward. "Just trying to make sure I understand. This…is complicated."

"Yeah," Wulfe said, then crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the wall next to your station. Her ears perked up and she grinned. "So, what did you think of the folks?"

"Uh, they were nice," you said.

Nice? Nice!? Your brain screamed at you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Arren at the gunnery console, putting his hand over his mouth, confusing Minna at why he was so amused.

"Nice, huh," Wulfe said, then leaned forward, whispering in your ear. "I noticed where you were looking for the entire dinner."

Your big dumb eyes felt like they had spent the entire time glued to Wulfe now. How often had you looked at her? Had she noticed that you were a big dumb stupid lesbian Belter dumb-

"Yeah, my Dad's hot, but he's too old for you," Wulfe said, then slapped her back, and stepped away. "Focus on studying, I'm gonna make sure the armory has cool guns."

Your entire face feels blue.

—​

You and Arren pick the comfiest room that you can choose, which isn't hard since they're all the same. There's plenty of choices, since the ship is built to carry an entire platoon of marines to their killing and stabbing places.

"So, how was your studying?" Arren asked, curiously, as you tossed your stuff onto the bed, stretching and groaning - the pressure of one G is making your knees ache slightly.

"It's okay," you say. Then, blushing. "So, uh…should we…talk to…Wulfe."

"Who's this we?" Arren's grin is impish. "You're the one with a crush."

"You! You!" You say, turning to face him.

"I think she's hot," he said, with careful, measured cadence. "You? You are wobbling over her."

You sit on the bed with a thump. "It's one G acceleration, my knees hurty."

Arren grins. "So, I think you should be the one to talk to Wulfe."

"But you're the dommmm!" You lay back, wriggling.

"Why is it when I tie you up, it's all wriggling and biting and brattiness, but when it comes to hard stuff, now it's all oh woe is me, i'm the little subby shark, I can't do anything?" Arren's voice is playful as he walks to the bed, then crawls into it.

You lean up, whispering in his ear. "Cause you like it when I struggle."

Arren chuckles, then leans in.

So.

You prove it.

—​

About an hour before the flip and burn at the midpoint of the transit, you found yourself in the cafeteria at the same time as Wulfe. What Arren had said to you remained echoing in your brain as you watched her fiddling with the coffee pot, grumbling and rattling it as she did so. It was early in the morning shift of the ship, even if you were still getting used to the Minnow's daily cycle.

"Come on…Wulfey need coffee…" Wulfe whined.

Now was a good time to go and strike up conversation. Maybe talk to her. Maybe kiss her? Maybe fall madly in love and get married! …okay, okay, uh, slow up on that last one, Isa. Get to the talking first. You just had to pick the exact most perfect way to approach her.


—
Choose your approach.
[ ] …hey. (Sound too aggressive by accident)
[ ] …hey… (immediately panic as you realize you're being too flirty)
[ ] Hop on up (hop cutely onto the counter, fall off, look like an idiot)
[ ] So, uh, you like your coffee too? Wild, your Dad liked his coffee a lot too. …I'm good with machines. Well, okay, Arren is good with machines, but I watch him a lot! Or I can get Arren, do you want me to get Arren? Or Amos, they're both tech nerds. Arren and Amos, I'll go get them! (immediately panic as you realize you're panicking)
[ ] Write In (if you come up with something worse than the above, you get a prize. the prize is smooch)

 

[DragonCobolt]

You square your shoulders. No need to be nervous. You're Isabella Morgenthau. You've faced down Goth pirates in a Goth battleship and you'd come away with your very own Herja gunship and now, you were a co-captain of a crew of badasses. You could do this.

You could talk to a girl!

You walked over towards Wulfe. She slapped her palm against the coffee machine. "Gimmi…coffee…whinnnee." Her ears drooped and her little tail drooped with it. It was so cutely pathetic you nearly fainted. Instead, you kept walking forward and decided…well, sitting down, you'd be more approachable, right? Cause you were Belter tall and Wulfe was all short and squat. Comparatively. So, sitting down. Right decision.

You came to the counter where the coffee machine sat, then popped up off your feet, planning to land smoothly on the counter.

In slow motion, physics began to unspool in your mind.

One gravity is 9.81 m/s^2. You have jumped to the right height and with the right angle for 3.27 m/s^2 - approximately.

In slow motion, Wulfe turned to look at you. You could see her eye slowly drooping in a blink as you lifted off the ground, hit the middle arc of your gentle parabola.

You will miss the side of the counter by a solid two centimeters.

A yawning emptiness waited beneath your butt. An infinite depth of pure despair and darkness, from which you would never, ever, ever recover.

You are an idiot. You are the biggest idiot in the entire solar system.

Your hands thrust out, grabbed, hit a low packed shelf. Seated against acceleration, it didn't give - but your fingers gripped and the forward motion of your collapsing body tugged it smoothly out of the slot - designed as it was to be accessible and unlocked as it was during non-combat maneuvering. The tray itself was covered with containers that held spices, teas, and coffees that were all meant for the coffee pot.

Pivots can turn any surface into a catapult.

The tray, half out of the wall, popped down as you completed your collapse. Coffee bags whipped out, shot into the air, and dropped far faster and with far less range than they should have to your Belter brain. They slammed into your shoulders and head, rolling down your sides and onto the grounds with a series of meaty plops. You sat there, in a ringing silence, as the tray settled next to your feet, and the only noise was the faint gurgling of the coffee maker, finally, working.

Wulfe blinked down at you, her one good eye wide. "...are you okay?" she asked.

"Fine!" You say, hurriedly. "Meant to do…that, I…was…testing. The…gr…a…vity."

"You…were testing the gravity," Wulfe said, then held her hand out to her, grinning slightly. "Suuuuuuure." You take her hand, blushing, and she yanks you up to your feet, and you almost stumble into her. You're painfully aware of everything about yourself. Like how you're a head and a half taller than her. Like your glowing skin markings, which were flaring to life as you got all flustered. Like your gills, genetically engineered for the depths of oceans that had been abandoned after the War. Your tongue brushed your very sharp teeth, and they felt sharper than they ever had before.

"Well, hey, at least I woke you up," you say, laughing nervously.

"I guess you did," Wulfe said. "But this machine is an evil machine. It's keeping me from my coffee - and now, look, it's running as slowly as possible."

You and she looked at he coffee machine. It was working away with a soft gurgling noise.

"You know what they say, right? A watched navplot never ends," you say.

"Yeah," Wulfe says.

"...wanna talk?" you ask. "About…stuff. And things?"

Smooth, Isa. Smooth.

Shut up brain.

"Sure," Wulfe said, then both of you were at the table. She sat across from you and you scrunched your feet under your chair, worried that you'd bump her feet. Because that was a normal, sane thing to worry about when you were trying to seduce someone. "So, you wanna hear about my Dad, right?"

"No, uh…I was more curious about you," you say, blushing hard. "Like, how did you meet Amos and Alex and Shed and the rest?"

"They're all of Mom's," Wulfe said, sighing. "They come along to keep me safe, you know." Her voice holds a bit of bitterness. "Like…they followed by orders back on the Dryad, but…it's more like I was pretending to be a captain than anything else."

"Oh," you say. "I mean, you seem like a pretty good captain!"

"I guess," she says, then looks away, her eyepatch facing you. You reach out and take her hand, squeezing it across the table.

"They love you. Your parents, I mean. I got to talk to your dad, and…like, even with his memory stuff," you say, hurriedly, not sure if you were stepping on toes. Wulfe sighed, her ears drooping slightly.

"Yeah," she says. "...what about your parents?"

"What about them?" you ask, shocked at how bitter you sound.

"I mean, hey, you can't just talk about my weird parents without fessing up about your weird parents," Wulfe says. "Like, my bio dad is Marco Inaros. There's no way that your parents can be worse, right?"

"Oh no, it's just my dad, and he's…" It took you a moment to actually say it. "He's a coward, or maybe he never cared. He just looked the other way when… sorry." You'd never actually put it into words before, not properly.

"Hey, it's okay…" Wulf assured you.

"… I grew up in a cult. We're a cult. I was one of the girls the high priest, um… took a liking to," you say, your voice soft and bitter. You could tell from the look on her face you didn't have to clarify. "Then when I spoke out against him and he scarred my face…" your hand went to your cheek - the scar was long gone, you'd had it obliterated at the medical clinic despite the expense, and walked around showing everyone the fresh, pale blue line that had been all that was left of it. Daring them to mention it. Daring them to say anything about it. Instead, everyone had looked the other way, as the blue skin had faded back to the same color as the rest of you. "...he …didn't say anything then either."

It…still feels like a knife grating against your chest. It…

Gods.

Sometimes, you wished you didn't have the internet. Sometimes, you wished there weren't forums where other people who had been abused were. Sometimes, you wished you'd just lived in some tiny fishing village before the Epstein drive and fusion rockets and satellites, and you could have just…kept…holding onto the parents in your heads.

Dad, who was just trying his best and was sad and scared and ignorant. Mom, dead in your childhood, not there for when it got really bad, who would have helped if she could. Good people, not willing members of a cult, bringing their child into it. But…

Grate. Grate. The feeling of the old knife, still stuck in your ribs.

Dad had let it happen. They had all let it happen. The high priest ran the town. Hell, for all you knew, he had the backdoors to all the sysops of the settlement. He could do whatever he wanted, sure, but…

But no one had even tried.

"...holy shit," Wulfe whispered. "I'm going to fucking kill him."

Your heart does a squeeze and a flutter and your skin feels three sizes too tight. Arren had never said that. He held. He comforted. He took you away. He helped steal money. But he was, at the end of the day, gentle and kind and he didn't kill, not ever. That was why you loved him. If Arren had said 'i'm going to fucking kill him', you'd have been scared. Arren was safe.

Wulfe saying it made your heart race.

"Thanks," you say.

"...okay, uh…" Wulfe laughs. "I…goddesses. No, nevermind. Sorry."

"No, what?" you ask, your hand turning around. Your fingers interlaced with hers.

"Just…y-you and Arren are, uh…ya know. Active." She coughed, and you saw something you'd never expected. Wulfe's cheeks were burning.

You wanted to laugh. You also wanted to burst into tears. Because you were just…barely holding onto a mask of normal. Just act like it's no big deal. Like it happened to someone else. There was Bella, little Bella, who laid on her back and thought of nothing at all, and then she had died and now there was Isa, and Isa did what she wanted. Isa was never scared that Arren would realize she was faking it all and realize she was just…just a wadded up, thrown away…thrown away…

You focused on the things that mattered. Warm points of Wulfe's fingertips against your knuckles. The twitch of her furred ear. The glittering humanity of her one remaining eye. The faintly visible gnarled scar tissue of her eye socket, peeking around her cloth eyepatch. The signs that she'd had something taken from her.

Just like you.

"Isn't that…hard?" Wulfe asks. "Since, I mean, you…" She trails off.

You smile, shyly. "It… I'm still figuring it out. We're figuring it out."

"No offense, but it seems to be working." Your cheeks burned.

"I… well…" How the hell do you explain something like this? "He helps me feel in control."

"Oh! Like in a kinky way?" Wulfe shoots back, and you can see the mask on her face was tottering too. You want to laugh. Cry. Maybe both. And yet, both emotions are whirling inside of you like a top.

"...yeah…" you say. "It took us a bit, while we were drifting. A lot of time to experiment."

"Oh ho ho?" Wulfe chuckles. Nervous laugh.

"So, now… He…ties me up…" Your hand tightens on hers.

"Oh…" Wulfe draws in a short, sharp breath.

"Blindfolds me sometimes… And, um…" you whisper. "No…doesn't. always mean…no. But I have safe words. I'm in control."

"...oh…" Wulfe whispers. Her ears are up. Attentive. Her eye is looking down at the shiny metal of the table. And the mask is falling off your face - and to your shock, you don't feel scared anymore. It's like…Wulfe's peeked at you. And she's not withdrawing. She's…enticed. Like there's something between you. Is it cause you're both fucked up little freaks?

Maybe you're just her kink, a whispery part of your brain thinks. She'll use you up and throw you away.

And the worst thing is…

That idea feels thrilling. It's…fucked up and gross and you want to bury your face your hands. But it is exciting and wrong, the fantasy of giving in to an intrusive thought. Like sliding your tongue along the blade of a knife. Like nuzzling up against a lead package around a nugget of plutonium. Like opening your faceplate in vacuum to correct a dangling wire. Like taking the wrong man to bed and feeling dirty and used and…good. Wrung out. Warm.

"S-So, you, uh…that kind of…kink. Right." Wulfe gulps. "I…I'm not into that much, you know." She lies. Badly.

"Uh-huh," you say.

"Women should be respected, autonomy wise, and…and Amos would totally kill me," Wulfe stammers. "If I…so, anyway. Glad you two! Are! Good!" She gives you a little fingergun with her free hand. Her other hand is still caught by yours. She starts to stand up - and you tug back. She should be able to get away, but instead, she comes back down onto the table. Her eye widens as you grin at her.

"...you know, uh, kinks are kinks. They're not real life. It's not like you think Arren's a big bad…bad…guy."

Wulfe gulps. "Y-Yeah. Well. Yeah." Then, non-sequitur from nowhere: "Coffee."

"Huh?" you ask.

"Coffee!" She points, craning her arm around to aim it at the coffee machine - which is bleeping and burbling.

"Oh!" You let go of her hand and regret it as Wulfe stands, scrambles. Her hands are shaking as she pulls out a coffee cup and fills it. It's the kind made for variable gravity environments, with the cap that she seals on, then takes a swig from. She breathes out, her tail wagging. "...god your tail is cute."

She laughs and blushes. "Still no idea where my Mom or Dad ended up getting that genetic marker from," she says.

"I dunno if this is racist but I wanna pet it," you say in a rush.

Wulfe looks over her shoulder at you, then turns to face you full on, hiding her tail. "Isa, did you know among my people, offering to pet my tail is tantamount to proposing marriage?" she says, her voice mock serious. You snort and lean your head on your cheek.

"How about your ears?" you ask. "Can I pet your ears?"

"Oh, you mean a handjob?" she declares, somehow with a straight face, before both of you start giggling - snapping the tension between you. You stand up and saunter towards her, your finger reaching out and bumping the tip of her ear. Wulfe laughs - then gasps as you lean your hand in. Your fingers cup her ear and scritch the base, where ear joins to her head. One of her eyes starts to close and she slowly lowers her cup, tilting her head so that you have better access. Her tail bumps rhythmically against the counter behind her and she actually makes a little whining noise.

Wow, you think, scritching her more, and then Wulfe pushes your wrist away, her cheeks burning. "Isa!" She flushed and laughed.

"You weren't kidding," you say, stunned.

"I was! …kind of," she said, flushing.

"Well, I wanna pet your tail, still," you say.

"What about Arren?" she asks.

"What about Arren?" you lean in slightly. "What if…I told you that he said, to me, that if this ever came up…the answer…was…" your stomach was full of butterflies. You should go. Just turn and walk right out the door. Why was Arren making you do this? He was the dom! He was the one who was good at talky!

"Yeah?" Wulfe whispered, her ears perked up. Thump thump thump. You couldn't tell if it was your heart or if it was her tail or both.

"...he…wants to watch."

She raised an eyebrow.

"So you're looking for a unicorn?" she asked.

"What's that?"

"A girl willing to be the third for a couple, and also a kind of horse."

"I don't know what that is either."

"… it's a myth. Much like unicorns. Both kinds," she responded.

"Oh," you said, with a sinking feeling.

Wulfe nodded. "That said, I have been called legendary, you and your boyfriend are both very attractive, and that sounds super hot," she said. "So I guess I'm a unicorn?"

You blink at her. "I, uh-" she grabs your hand, the coffee cup forgotten.

"You free now?" she says, almost hastily, nodding.

"Okay," you say. If she thinks you're gonna do a chicken, a…the thing where you don't do the thing just because it's actually happening, which is called 'playing chicken' for reasons that utterly escape you, then you were simply going to prove her wrong. "Let's do it!"

"Fine then," she says. You step away from her, then jerk her away from the coffee machine and towards the door.

"I mean it," Wulfe says.

She says it again as you and her enter your room, where Arren is nose deep into technical readouts on his handheld terminal. He lifts his head up, then blinks at the two of you as the door shuts. Wulfe puts her hands on her hips. "I am here to take your girlfriend," she said. "In a manly fashion!"

Arren blinks at her. Then he laughs. "Aren't you a girl?"

"Yeah, and Isa is going to be calling me Sir," Wulfe growls.

Your knees almost turn to liquid. Arren slowly turns off his hand terminal, then sets it on the nightstand, watching Wulfe with a contemplative air. "And after," he says. "What are you going to do then?"

"Uh…" Wulfe said. "I, uh…I leave? I guess? After the aftercare?"

You are being a very good, meek little Isa. You watch, eagerly, as Arren sits up, slides his legs out of bed, and then stands up and up and up. Wulfe's ears go straight up into the air and her tail stills as he looks down at her from his height.

"Sounds good," he said, and flashed her a grin that made you actually whimper.

Spoiler: Sex Scene Spoilers!

Wulfe dommes Isa. Arren learns that watching is the most awkward thing in the universe.
Arren doms Wulfe. Isa learns that watching is the hottest thing in the universe.

Spoiler: Sex Scene Actual

"So, the safe word…" Arren whispered it in Wulfe's ear as Wulfe glances, sidelong, at you. Her eye is hungry. Her eyepatch makes her look dangerous. You feel like you're about to faint. Arren pats Wulfe on the back, steps aside - then she's on you. Her hand is on your wrist, pinning your arm over your head, her other hand is on your throat, caressing you. The pressure, the strength of her, makes it feel like you've gone from null to ten Gs in ten seconds and…and…

"Hello there, little fishy…" Her voice is predatory and your panties are soaked.

Still.

Squirm. You wriggle, push back, and grin at her as her hand slides from your throat. "My name's Isa. Co-Captain. Remember?"

Wulfe's eye widens and she looks as if she has to actually gird herself, squaring her shoulder. Her finger tugs at the zipper on your jacket and you wriggle, as if you're trying to stop her. Your breasts come free after a moment, contained in your black bra. Her finger pauses and her breath catches as she looks down at your chest. Then she's looking back into your eyes. "Not anymore," she growled. "I'm captain now."

"I won't call you sir," you say. "I mean for one, it's all…misgendery."

Wulfe snorts as you wriggle. Wriggle. Come on, Wulfe.

Her hand yanks your bra forward. Your nipples are aching hard against the cool air of the cabin - and Wulfe wastes no time. She cups your breast, rolls your nipple, rough enough you hiss. Her other hand pushes your arm back, so your chest thrusts out and she…tugs. You gasp and bit your lip as she growls. "We'll see about that."

Your arm is free - but that's because both of her hands are pushing at your clothing. You squirm, struggle, and your clothing comes off, revealing your brightly glowing chromatophores shimmering along your skin like erotic tattoos. Wulfe grabs you and shoves you back against the wall, pinning your arms above your head with her hands. She leans in, her voice soft.

"Mmm, you look better like this. No use pretending you're anything but the Captain's pet." She bites your throat, then. Fierce. Dominant. Her growl shudders through you, and her teeth plays against the toughened flesh around your gills.

Your toes curl and your eyes swing up to the ceiling as her body presses against yours. Even through her clothes…she's blazing hot. Fire hot. Fusion hot. Her hands glide along your side and your hands remain, obediently up, as she bites along your throat, collar, to your breasts. Her teeth tease your nipple and you groan. She draws back. "Who's Captain, hmm?"

"Me…" you whisper.

"Wrong answer."

Her hands shove you away from the wall. You stumble, grabbing onto the fold out desk. Your cheek presses against cool plastic - and then Wulfe grabs your hip, steading you with one hand. "You're the captain's pet, and you're being a naughty little bitch. And you know what naughty little bitches get?" She croons - and then pauses, as if checking, waiting. You don't even think of the safe word.

Instead, maximum bitchy bottom voice comes out.

"Fuck you."

"Not until you say please." Her hand cracks against your ass. Rougher. Harder than you expected. It makes your rump tingle and your body rock. You gasp - and then Wulfe slaps again. Then again. Then again and again and again, and each time, you let out a gasp and a moan and a little squeak. You grab onto the desk, trying to support yourself, your knees trembling as your pussy gets wetter and wetter. Your ass aches and buzzes with electrical sensitivity - Wulfe leaves it tingling just long enough for you to not get used to it before she spanks you again.

It's too much.

You start crying, tears of pleasure and frustration and pain leaking from your eyes, gasping out. "S…Stop!"

She spanks one more time.

"Pl-ease!" Desperation.

"Not until you say-" Smack. Smack. Smack! The three smacks crack against you so fast and hard that it is almost unbearable. You don't know if you're going to scream or cum or faint. "-the magic word, pet."

"Please! Sir! Please! SIr, sir, please, stop, I'll be good, I'll be good!" you gasp. "Your pet will be a good…good pet, Sir, please!"

Wulfe breathes out a slow. Satisfied. Sigh.

"Good…good…" she murmurs. "Who's captain?"

"Y-You, sir…" you tremble, sliding from the bed to your knees, panting heavily. You lean against the desk - until Wulfe's hand grips your hair, jerking your head back. She has unzipped her pants and her sleek girlcock is thrusting from between her legs, her little hairless balls visible between her thighs. Her pre smells feminine and she drips with arousal, clear and transluscent and…very different from Master. Your nose flares, breathing her in. Your head spins as Sir croons.

"And you are…"

"Captain's pet…" you say.

"Goooood…" Her cock presses against your lips and you open. She's smaller than Master - but she makes up for it with vigor. Eagerness. She grabs your hair and she uses you, like you were just put on this ship for this moment. Her cock plunges into your throat and her balls slaps your chin and you wuff against her hips every time she thrusts deep, her fingers digging into your hair - pressing against your scalp as she shoves your head against her with every press of her throat.

You love every second of serving Sir.

Sir jerks back, then grabs her cock. She jerks once, twice…

And cums on your face.

You groan as warmth splashes against your face and your mouth opens, drinking her down. She tastes…less intense than Master, a bit salty. Still good. She holds your head with her free hand. Rubs her cock against you. She's softening slightly, panting. You moan and pant softly.

"So, I've learned something," Arren says, his voice wry. "Watching…is…uh…"

"Hot?" Sir asks, her ears perking up.

"Kinda, um…awkward?" Arren laughs. He moves up behind Wulfe. He murmurs in her ear. "Though, you know, you did pretty good at domming her." His hand caressed her hair and Wulfe squirms a bit.

"Hey," she said, pouts. "Well, you don't have to just wa-

She freezes as Arren's arms slide around her. His finger scritches her ear - and before your eyes, Wulfe's cock gets rock hard again. Her tail twitches and Arren noticed - and god…how…does he do this so fast and so effortlessly. Like, you could sub, all right. But Arren?

Arren was magical.

His hand caresses along Wulfe's belly as he keeps scritching her ear. She squirms, but he holds her firmly in place. His voice is a soft rumble in her ear, but you can hear it, excitement making your belly do eager loop dee loops.

"You did such a good job for a first timer - put her right in her place." He smiled and you watched as Wulfe…just…completely melted in his hands. She was quivering and wriggling and Arren could see it too. You saw a flickery light in his eyes.

You couldn't breathe.

He grinned, slowly. His tongue slid along his lips. "So, uh," he said, quietly. "Did you have fun, Wulfe?" He asked, scritching her ear. "Being the big bad dom."

"Mmhmm," Wulfe murmured, eye half closed as she was scritched.

"Cause you seem pretty happy getting head pets," Arren murmured. Wulfe squirmed, blinking, her eye widening slightly. "Maybe a bit sinnier than you let on?"

"W-Well, I…shut up," she said, blushing.

"I mean, you should remember what this relationship is. Isa is my pet. And you?" Arren slid his other hand along her belly. He slid his palm slowly up. Your heart hammered in your ears. You were still not breathing. At all.

Wulfe didn't stop him.

"You're also my pet," Arren purred.

You nearly fainted.

Wulfe still didn't stop him as his hand slipped up, then cupped one of her breasts, squeezing. She had bigger tits than yours, and Arren gripped her enough that…Wulfe gasped and squirmed.

"Hn…I…h-hey, I…" She blushed, hard. Her ears were drooping. Her face confused.

"Did you forget the safe word?" Arren asked, his voice wry.

"No, I remember, it's just-" Wulfe gasps again as Arren's hands gently glide her to the bed and he sits down, drawing her onto his lap. Her clothing slides completely off under his tugging and she wriggles as he croons in her ear.

"Shh, don't struggle, be a good girl."

The words 'good girl' hit something deep in Wulfe. You can see it. Her cock is throbbing and hard and twitching against her belly as Arren strokes her - not touching her breasts, not touching her cock. Rubbing her belly. Petting her hair. Sliding his hand along her tail. Petting her. Making her his in a way that…is…you can't tear your eyes away. Your hand slides between your thighs, finding your sex as you watch with wide eyes, hating every single blink.

"What are…you doing?" Wulfe sounds dazed.

"Shhh, good girls don't ask anything but what makes their master happy. And you want to make your master happy, don't you?" He croons. "Slut, stop touching yourself and get the collar for your fellow pet."

His voice holds the snap of command that jerks your hand from between your legs. You blush and mutter. "Fellow pet, huh-"

"Now."

Arren has been nothing but gentle to Wulfe. But his voice to you makes you so wet you almost start panting. You tremble as Wulfe's cum cools on you - and then you scramble to the luggage. Wulfe blushes as she is laid on her back and ARren pets her muscular belly, then slides his finger along her cock. "You have a cute little dick, you know," he murmurs. "Very girly."

Wulfe looks aside. "I…t-this is so weird…"

"That's not what good girls say when their masters compliment them," Arren says, gripping her dick in his hand. He squeezes, gently, and Wulfe bucks her hips. She grabs onto a pillow, covering her face. Her mumble is muffled.

"Shutupbbbhtttttt!" She says. A verbal keysmash. You had never seen the like. Your hands shake as you hold the collar out to Arren, and he takes it with his other hand.

"Come now, puppy. Show me your throat."

Wulfe is still. Then…sides the pillow aside. Her cheeks burn and her one good eye looks away, her cheek mashed against the bed. She's hiding her eyepatch. She looks so…soft like this. So…girly. You want to let out a soft 'aww' but instead, you bite your lip, watching with awe as Arren releases her cock - and Wulfe lets out a little mewl…then the collar slides around her throat. Clicks home.

"Ah…" She whispers.

"Now," Arren purred. "What are you?"

"...a good girl…" Wulfe whispers.

"Mmmhmm, and what do good girls do?" He pets her belly.

"...t-they…make their Masters happy…" She whispers.

Arren unzips himself. Your fingers glide along your sex and you bite your lip so hard you almost draw blood. He presses his cock against hers - dwarfing her. You knew he was…big, but…uh…estrogen…and also, girl…and…boy and…your brain is sparking, words…no…more anymore…

"What a girly little cock you have, I love it…" Arren murmurs. He bucks his hips, frotting against her. The pressure draws a mewl from Wulfe, her ears perked up, her tail thumping against the bed. "You're so beautiful, you know."

"N-No I'm not." The words escape her and you're not sure she meant to say them,because her head snaps around, showing her eyepatch. Arren reaches down - and his hand caresses her cheek. His cock keeps grinding against her, his hips moving gently, but Wulfe doesn't move as he slowly slides his thumb under her eyepatch. She doesn't move, doesn't shake her head, doesn't even breathe as he slides her eyepatch slowly away from her eye, then over her ear. It lays beside her as she looks up at him, her eye socket a gnarled mash of scar tissue.

"You're prettier than the stars," Arren murmurs.

Gods.

Gods.

Why does it feel like a punch, bitter sweet and perfect. You want to cry. You want to worship him. Wulfe does start trembling, her voice ragged. "I…th-thanks…" She whispers, then then she turns her head aside, and her hips start working back - grinding herself against Arren more and more desperately as he leans down. You marvel at the gorgeous sight of his muscular frame above her, the way his blue and her pink skin contrast, at the glow of his body as his arms cradle her, as he kisses her neck, her breasts, sucking on her. Her hand hangs free and you take it in both of your hands, kissing her wrist, and she moans, and her fingers interlock with yours.

It's a tight grip.

A loving grip.

The moment feels…

You don't even want to name it, lest the name is too much, or too little. So you just watch, in awe, as the two rock faster and faster. Arren groans. Wulfe whines.

They make a mess of one another. Arren gets all the way to her breasts. Wulfe pants, and trembles - and you can see the post high crash coming. The sensation of…being in this headspace is…intense. And Arren has been so good so far - he doesn't disappoint. He does everything for her that he did for you. He held her. Touched her, but gently. He let her shake and quiver. And most importantly, he calls her by her name.

"It's okay, Wulfe. It's okay. Isa and I are here for you."

The name is important. Calling you back to yourself.

You crawl onto the bed - knees ouch floor hard is a thing that exists once the awe of watching wears off. You cuddle against both their sides as Wulfe curls up and nuzzles into both of you as best as she cans. She sniffles and cries a little - and then mumbles. "Eyepatch. Eyepatch, please." You worry she's freaking out - but then she says: "M-Makes me look sexy."

All three of you laugh.

You slide it over her cheek. She settles it. Arren kisses her other cheek.

You all lay together.

"Well…" Wulfe said, quietly, looking at the ceiling. "That was…a lot." She paused. "...we gonna do it again?"

"Yes," you say, desperately.

"Yes, with conditions," Arren said, nodding sagely.

"Okay, lay em on me," Wulfe says.

"If we're both here, we're both working on Isa," Arren said. "I am not sitting sideline again."

"E…he…hehehe…" you whimper, your entire face burning. "O-Oh noooooo…haha…oh…oh no…"

—​

You're in the middle of watching Hingabe swell larger and larger on the final approach with Alex on the bridge when Amos stuck his head into the bridge and said: "Yo, Lucky. Minny's got something you gotta hear."

"Amos, we're-" You start.

"No, seriously, Lucky. This is important." Amos ducks down.

"When Amos says something's important, Cap, it's important," Alex says, raising his eyebrows at you. You sigh, nod, then stand up. The Minnow is burning at only a third of a G for the final burn, so you at least feel like you're in a normal habitat for once. You swing yourself down the ladder, following Amos to the armory. This would be where an entire platoon of HCRMC marines would have worked on their gear, so it has more than enough space for Minna's extremely illegal stolen suit of Valkyrie class recon power armor.

She's spent the past few days of the flight refitting it away from the extremely toxic hydrazine thrusters it used to something that wouldn't kill everyone if you weren't in your own space suits.

Minna was holding the helmet, with a series of cables run into it, and diagnostic systems set up around it. She sees you entering, her face serious as she comes to attention. "Co-Captain Morgenthau," she says, actually clicking her heels. "At 1120, I was running routine diagnostics on my radio systems when my Mark 3 Valkyrie class recon power armor when the Operating System picked up the following transmissions from Hignabe - all of them identified as being out of date Herja Congressional Republic Marine Corps codes. Upon initial investigation, I determined they were crudely modified for security in ways that are hallmarked as being used by the Goth Paramilitaries." She nodded. "I have cracked their codes and am now prepared to play the information for you, ma'am."

You blink at her. "...good job, Minna!" You say.

"T-Thank you, ma'am." She says, drawing even more firmly upright.

"You can just call me Isa, you know," you say.

"Minny prefers being all official like, Lucky," Amos says. "It calms her down, ya know."

Minna blushes, though her dark features make it hard to tell. "Ishallbegintheplaybacknow." She says, all at once, and taps the helmet.

The speaker is grainy, but you can hear it clearly enough.

"Watcher HQ, this is Watch Two, the targets have entered Level-11 before we lost track of them. Any luck on the network?"

"Watcher Two, this is Watch-HQ, we have potential face-ID from a kiosk in a flophouse on level 12. We believe they're seeking Lyse."

"Permission to mobilize Goliath units, Watcher HQ."

"...no…go in plainclothes, Watcher Two."

"Understood."

The playback finished.

"That sounds bad," you say. "And…and…who is Lyse?"

Minna gulped. "That is the woman I purchased the Dreki - also known as the Scoupulai, from. If the Goths are deploying paramilitary forces to this 'flophouse' then it is likely they are there to kill or kidnap the very woman we are here to talk to."

Amos gives you the same casual smile that he gave to all situations. "Well. Isn't that interesting, Lucky."

—
What do?
[ ] Rush for the Flophouse, with guns. But be all…plainclothes! Sneaky style.
[ ] "Hey, Minna, how do you feel about beating up Goths in power armor?"
[ ] Write In

 

[DragonCobolt]

An idea blooms in your head. "Hey, Minna…how do you feel about…tight spaces?"

"I am highly trained against claustrophobia," Minna said, coming to attention. "Why?"

You told her the plan.

Minna frowned.

—​

HEINRICH


You were a born and bred Belter. When it came to fire…there was nothing else to ask. You grabbed Julia, yanked her back, and shouted to Jos: "Müller, we gotta find a fire extinguisher!"

"Yeah, no kidding, kid," Jos said. "What happened?"

Julia looked between you two, blinking - and then said: "I don't know! It's not even fire!"

That caused both of you to come up short. You realized…you weren't smelling any burning scent. No fire alerts were going off. But the blue light and the shimmering glows were sweeping around the room, riveting up and down the walls like bands of fire. It was really pretty…but…eerie. It also seemed to be centered on a glowing blue knot of bright light on the counter of the bathroom. Julia pointed at it.

"That started flaring just a few minutes ago," she said. "I…It's been glowing since I found it, but not like this."

"What is it?" Jos asks.

"I…I don't know!" Julia said. "We were just supposed to grab it off a freighter - some Erder corporation had it. We thought it was a bioweapon or something!" Julia's voice is getting panicky. "But it's not. I hope. Maybe."

You stepped into the room, holding up your handheld. The dosimeter is nice and green.

"Heinrich, did you not hear her say bioweapon," Jos snaps, grabbing onto your arm with long, bony fingers. You jerk your arm free and step closer to the blue glowing center of the disturbance. You pass your hand through the shimmering flames and see them dance around your fingers. They feel…quite cool to the touch.

"It…it must be some kind of…hologram, or volumetric display, some kind of fancy visual effect," you say, trying to find some sort of rational explanation for what you were seeing. "What…what is the center of it?"

"It's a blue gemstone, about three centimeters long, banded in gold, like, in a broach," Julia said, shaking her head a bit. "It's covered with some old writing, I checked on the internet, I can't find any translations. The computer says its something like old Rishonen, but…different."

"Wow," you say. "And you didn't do anything to trigger it?"

"No!" Julia said, shaking her head. "It just started glowing."

You frown. There's only a few things that could have caused this sort of thing - if it was a volumetric display, it had to have to have been triggered by a transmission. You pull out your handheld, but your connection is for shit. It is then that you notice the cheap wire mesh planted on the walls. Julia, seeing your look, explains: "I…I was worried I might be tracked."

"So you turned your whole room into a Saint Bucker's basket?" you ask.

"...yeah…" she says.

"Clever," you say, then step backwards. "So, it wasn't a signal. Maybe it was timed or…"

"We have company," Jos says, pushing Julia behind him. The faint sound of footsteps comes up the corridor. Confident movements. Steady paces. No conversation. You step to the doorframe and use it as cover, while Julia presses herself against the wall. Two men come around the corner, then freeze as they see you. They have guns. In the time it takes for you to process they have guns, Jos has already shot one in the face.

The man drops as his friend throws himself into what little cover there is and starts spraying. Julia covers her face with her hands as plastic shavings explode into the air. Holes burst into the door next to Jos, and a scream of alarm and fear comes from the room. "Into the room!" You shout, then fire three times into the ceiling - not wanting to risk any bullets going through a thin metal door. It keeps one of their heads down as Jos and Julia run into the burning room.

You step back.

Something dark and black skitters along the floor.

You grab the door.

It swings.

Before you get it fully shut, the grenade goes off. The door smashes into your sternum, but what is worse is the thunderclap from Sigvard himself, smashing into your ears and blazing through your eyes like a star. You stumble onto your ass and skid, your head ringing. You shake your head as Jos grabs for you, drags you. Your eyes blink away sparks and you hear Jos shouting: "You're okay! You're okay, Heinrich!"

But…

Rather than capitalizing on the moment…instead of Goths advancing, you hear rattling gunfire. Thumps. Whirrs. Clunks.

Then the door bursts open and a suit of gleaming, modern looking Herja power armor stands there, painted bright white. Someone has patterned roses on the shoulder pauldrons. The face mask is down, but a woman's voice comes from it. "Are you all right in here? We're making sure no one has been hit in the crossfire. My name is Minna Hammerl, I am a former academy student of the HCRN training base. On Herja. Obviously." She paused for a long moment, then said. "Are you aware…your…room is on fire?"

"Their room's on fire!?"

You are helped to your feet by Jos as two others enter the room. One of them is…

Oh!

You've never actually met a Fisher before. They were almost an urban legend throughout the Belts, despite being fairly well documented, because they simply didn't leave their home much. If you hadn't seen quite a few videos of them on the internet, and talked with a few in feeds, you'd never have guessed they were actually real…but…even so, seeing a woman that was clearly part shark, with blue-gray skin, slitted gills on her throat, and glowing markings swirling along what parts of her were exposed? It was all quite a lot.

Next to her is a slightly less rare abnormality: A woman with wolf ears and a tail. That kind of genetic modding was common enough before humanity had even left Erde, and it cropped up across the solar system, even without access to the advanced laboratories that had made it possible. She had a single eyepatch covering what was clearly a botched regrow job - and her one good eye widened as she looked at the blazing flames.

"Thanks," Jos says, casually. "For dealing with the Goths."

"I was concealed within a cargo container," Minna said. "It…turned out to be less useful than…because the Goths had…had already started to…" She trailed off, and her two friends were gaping as well - at the flames behind you.

Which made sense.

They had changed color.

You turned, just as a male fisher arrived, saying: "Hey, guys, uh, Gods what the fuck is that?"

The blue flames had become red. Bright red. Jos and Julia backed away from it. As did you.

"Is that bad?" You ask.

"How the hell should I know?" Julia hissed.

"It's your weird glowy-" The wolf eared girl said, but then a hissing voice snarled from the flames, rising like a whistle blowing a work shift.

"Innnnnnnnnaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrosssssssssss!"

Everyone froze at that. The wolf girl's ears pinned back. Her tail stilled.

"...yeah?" she asked. "I usually go by Wulfe Holden. Now."

You wanted to tear your eyes away from the red flames to gape at her - but there were too many impossible things going on at once for you to pick which to boggle at. The red flames blazed white, then flared brighter, spreading far apart. A strangely sweet wind blew - and something odd slapped against your face with a papery texture to it. You snatched it away from your head and…and to try and describe it. It was like someone had made a slightly too thick piece of parchment - and too textured too, you could see all the little crinkles and folds in it. It had a skeletal webwork of thin bands of brown shooting through it, reaching outwards to a fractal ice pattern that made up its ragged edges. The papery-stuff stretched between the brown shoots, like the wings of some bat or…or…

You realized what you were holding.

It was a leaf.

From a tree.

More leaves blew from the wall. They came from nowhere, buy they slapped against your faces and chests as a humanoid form stepped forward from the white tear - and the voice continued to speak.

"Tree burner. Forest killer. Ocean poisoner. Sky smasher. Rock thrower. Murderer. Murderer. MURDERER!"

The…

The thing that stood in the room was not human.

Except it was.

They were too tall. Taller than a Belter. Their movements were too fluid and graceful. Their skin was brown and craggy, covered with…bark. If you hadn't identified the leaf, you'd have never pegged what it was, but…but it was bark. Like a tree. Her eyes glowed with red fire and her skin was wreathed through with shoots of green, flowering into orange blooms that spread along her shoulders and backs like she was a living walking garden. She…was nude. And female. And so beautiful that your heart hammered and your sexuality felt deeply in doubt.

She thrust a finger at Wulfe.

"You! We have waited for years to get our hands on you!"

Wulfe blinked. "W-What?" she looked like she was coming out of a deep reverie. "I…bu…but I didn't do any of that!" She stepped backwards. "That was my dad, Marco! He's a fucking asshole, he threw the rocks at Erde, I was a baby!"

"Blood is to blood is to blood. Through the daughter, we have the father." The woman snapped her fingers. "Seize her."

The white light behind her flared.

Men burst from the wall. They were too tall and too fluid. They wore armor that that looked like filigreed orange wood and carved stone. They carried longbows, knocked with arrows. At their feet came small animals. No, not animals, small people. Furred, chittering, laughing things with huge eyes, which gnashed their teeth and scampered forward as the fisher girl shouted: "RUN!"

That was the best idea you'd heard all day.

Jos, of course, lifted his pistol and shot one of the bowmen. The bowman stumbled, shook himself, then laughed. "What is this?" he plucked the plastic bullet from his chest.

His friend loosed. Jos grunted, an arrow protruding from his chest. "JOS!" you scream, then grabbed his bony self as he collapsed. Then you were all running, panicking - and ran from a nightmare into a worse one. The ceiling lamps of the corridor are sparking and flashing. More of the little furred creatures are swarming on the walls. Three of them have already pulled a wall terminal apart and are cackling as they tug out chips and wires. Sparks flare and doors are opening, the shocked inhabitants of the flophouse gaping out - then diving for cover. Some strange green stuff is growing along the floor and brown tongues of biomatter are sweeping along the walls, blooming with odd growths.

Grass.

Branches.

Flowers.

Jos is dying.

The whole group of you bursts out into the open air before the flophouse and before the bowman can leap after you, Minna uses her power armor enhanced strength to grab an entire park bench outside, wrench it free from its struts, and smash it down before the door. This buys you a few seconds. Jos groans, his voice wheezy. "Sorry…sorry about…" He's able to talk at least. The arrow is in his chest, but you don't know if it's cut an artery or pierced a lung or simply embedded itself in his ribs. You don't know how to treat goddamn arrow wounds.

Your mob - Julia, you, Jos, the two fishers, Wulf and the power armored girl - are at the nexus…of utter madness. The moss and greenery is growing from every part of the station at once. You could see strange quadrupedal creatures bounding - hooved, horned, and bearing beautiful almost-men and almost women. Music and song fills the air, and you can hear laughter and screams in equal measures. There are no alerts or anything, because there appear to be flowers blooming from the speakers.

"We need to get him to a doctor," you say, grabbing Jos.

"We have a medtech!" the fisher girl says.

"Do you want to go through all that?" Julia asks.

The door shudders behind you.

"Guys, uh, maybe we can run and discuss at the same time?" Wulfe asks, her ears pinned back.

The door shudders again.

—
What do!?
[ ] The casinos are the straightest path. Most populated, though.
[ ] Cut for the back alleys and loop for the spaceports.
[ ] Find a local security precinct. They'll have first aid gear, maybe help.
[ ] Write In