THE SPACE NAVY AU (18+)

He certainly sounds like Galley. You lower your gun, but don't put it away yet, if only because it's comforting to hold when things are this weird.

"What --" Your voice cracks from uncertainty and dryness. You clear your throat and try again. "What... exactly... just happened? Who are -- are you related to -- are you a Galgal?"

 

"You don't know me? Okay. Okay, you're— empress on a fucking scow, are you like an actual for real little kid now? Okay. Um. Fuck. This is bad. Stay right there. This is fucking bad. If you shoot at anything in this room I am authorized to cram all your bullets straight up your 'chute, so don't."

Galley then proceeds to phone the Captain and completely freak out at him. When the Captain hangs up, the Helmsman flops back in his hammock with a long, unsteady sigh. His wires pulse with discharged energy.

"Okay," he says hoarsely. "Okay, I'm just gonna— hold course. I'm going to do that then. Holy fuck." He tilts his head just enough to eye Bel. "Goddamn," he adds.

 

"What do you mean now?" you manage at last. Having caught your breath and gotten hold of yourself somewhat, you put your gun away and show him your open hands as you unfold from under the desk. You're definitely in some kind of trouble here, but it's not a shoot-your-way-out kind of trouble, it's a think-your-way-out kind. "You said, 'You're small now.' Implying you know me, but larger. And you look like my matesprit, but older. And not missing any fingers."

 

"Okay. You were. Uh." Galley bares his teeth at himself in frustration, sends an enormous crackling surge of energy up his wires, and visibly forces himself into a flat affect.

"Sir. The Sunslammer has been navigating a patch of extremely fragile space this last night, as we head away from Battlefront Six Alpha Sigma Twenty Nine, code name Tesseract Rumpus. The local enemy has a form of propulsion that folds spacetime nearly cross-ways to the way Alternian ships move, especially in terms of post-light transport, and the effects compound in high-traffic areas of our combat front, ultimately shattering the material space-time is composed of.

"It is physically distressing to Helmsmen to navigate through broken areas like this. It has been described as roughly analogous to walking barefoot across shattered ice floes. Commander Kadros volunteered for a support position today, but interfered with the normal function of my helmsrig during a particularly difficult piece of navigation, and diverted an unreality pulse to ground itself through him, rather than myself. I don't know anything else about what the fuck is going on, sir." His voice, perfectly flat and even throughout, wobbles a little at the end.

 

When he calls you 'sir', your stomach lurches. And it gets worse from there. "Commander Kadros?" you quaver. "Who... looks like me, but bigger? What is this, the 'road not taken' episode of some corny psychodrama?"

 

"This is the Sunslammer, sir. First Mate Commander Belatu Kadros is on record as fourteen sweeps. He is of relatively normal stature for a healthy male blueblood." The corner of Galley's mouth twitches, showing a few extra fangs. "Various elements of his anatomy are superior to those of other healthy male bluebloods."

 

You clear your throat awkwardly, trying not to smile back and not quite succeeding, not sure how to talk to this big, healthy, gorgeous troll who looks and sounds enough like your Galley to make your blood pump do wind sprints. "So you're... you and Commander... just like me and Galley. But grown up and SUNSLAMMER OH SHIT." It gets through to you all at once and you clutch the desk like the ship's crashing right this second. You may or may not slightly whimper. The blood drains from your face.

"That's why you've got all your fingers," you whisper.

 

Galley sits bolt upright at the volume spike, baring all his fangs and crackling with threatening yellow sparks.

"What?" he demands. "What—?" When he sees that the younger Bel isn't angry, he relaxes a little.

 

"You said... he, the older me? grounded an -- an unreality charge. Right? And suddenly here I am." You make yourself stop crushing the edge of the desk, but your hands are shaking so you tuck them under your armpits. "This is like, the world where you didn't --"

You stop yourself. If he's still got that paranoid prick of a captain, you can't go around saying he might crash the ship. Actually, if he's still got that captain, you're probably destined for the wrong side of an airlock. But on the other hand...

"You look... good. Healthy. Um. Nice uniform. So... your captain's a decent sort?"

 

Galley gives a wry smile. "He's fucking crazy. But he's alright. Don't tell him I said so."

 

"So... not..." You hesitate, then name the captain that drove your Galley to crash his ship.

 

"Ha!" Galley barks with laughter. "That was six captains back, kid Kadros, you are young! But you know, you never forget your first dead highblood." He puts a hand over his heart, grinning wickedly. "That corpse is special."

 

Your eyes go round, and you go from blanching to blushing in a hurry. That wicked grin kind of makes your brain shut off. "My Galley killed him by crashing the Sunslammer," you blurt.

 

"Oh." The smile drops off Galley's face. "I was unable to complete that particular maneuver. But the nasty grub-groper's dead anyway for letting me get close enough to try. So. The results of the attempt were satisfactory."

He looks down at his hands. "I got to die," he murmurs, "...right? I got to die."

 

"No," you answer, subdued, "and I'm still working on convincing you -- him -- that living's better. But he's free. He can walk under the moonlight. He can have a moirail and a matesprit. He can talk back to me and not get zapped by his brain. He's, uh, still working on talking back to Erskin. My rival. Who's a seadweller, so, I guess, that's a hurdle, but he's getting there. Are you... okay?"

 

"Erskin," Galley repeats, coming out of his reverie. "Ha. Well, that's— something. Walking, huh?" He regards his bare, completely uncallused feet, flexes his toes. "Sounds like I'm doing better and worse than yours in different parts. I guess that's okay. I mean, I hate this shit, but—" he shrugs, "—everyone's got their job. The captain says everyone's got their fucking job. He doesn't much like it either. I think you like it." He tilts his head thoughtfully. "You're happy here. That part of this shit is alright."

 

"I'm happy, huh. Well, that's. Information. So uh... did your Bel ever try... not being a soldier?"

 

Galley smiles wryly. "Yeah, emphasis on try. I'm a carrier, kid Kadros. We don't see combat."

He looks over at the door, just before someone on the other side knocks on it, fast and frantic.

"Galley! What's going on!?" the captain shouts from the other side, and knocks again.

Galley looks back at Bel, inquiringly, to see if he wants to let the man in yet.

 

You return his stare blankly -- is he leaving it up to you whether to open the door? You have no idea what happens if he does, but it's not like it's safe for him to defy his captain, is it? You give him a big theatrical shrug, with the hands and everything.

 

"Galley! Come on!" you shout again. "May I please—" the difficult little shit finally deigns open his goddamn door, and you lurch through the entrance, fully expecting to see Bel turned inside-out or eviscerated or something.

"What in the absolute star buggering hell," you say, beholding Bel. "You have shrunk."

Galley gives you a big, ridiculous shrug, then bursts out laughing. You make it about two seconds before leaning against the doorframe and laughing until you hurt.

"Oh my god," you wheeze. "Oh my god your itty bitty wee precious HORNS, Bel, OH MY GOD."