THE SPACE NAVY AU (18+)

IT: no u

Extremely pleased with her joke, Twitch settles in to play tappy-whack-a-grub until whoever her moirail is shows up.

When a kid in a somewhat ragged collection of rainbow clothing eventually draws near, she looks up hopefully.

"I'm waiting for someone," she says.

 

You're not out for five minutes before you learn that most of the folks on this ship are buttoned up in work uniforms and you stick out like a sore digit. You could have asked Twitchy to nab you some clothes, or you could have sucked it up and let Twitchy bring you your damn food, but noooo, you had to go and be adventurous. Thus, your journey is made all the more stressful by all the baffled eyes on you while you try and make heads or tails out of all the chalked arrows and notes and directories.

Then it happens: a freckled orangeblood steps in your path and furrows pierced brows at you. Her hair is buzzed even shorter than yours. She has cute ram horns, an attractive array of facial scars, and shoulder muscles that would have had you swooning had you not been terrified out of your fucking mind.

"Uh, so," she says, looking you up and down, a bemused little smile tugging at her lips. "Did you fall in a clothing donation bin or what, honey?"

Shit. Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. Your thinkpan is static. You stand there with your shoulders hunched to your ears, the silence between you stretching to unbearable proportions, and then suddenly you know exactly what to do. It is your old standby for dealing with unwanted strangers. The indigo's friend.

You straighten your spine and beam at her sweetly. "Well, blessed night to you, sister, I was just all up and getting my wander on looking for someone to speak at the good word to, you dig? Like, have you ever wondered how the universe keeps turning in its circles? It can't just up and do that by itself, there's gotta be something moving the gears, right? My Lords knew what they were all doing when they shaped up this bitty little existence we call life--"

It's starting to dawn on her as she looks at your clothes and face paints in a whole new light. "Uhhh, I--"

"--see, we're all a part of their vast in-joke, alla us, and some day we're all like to up and see the wicked punchline of it all, everything's gonna make wicked hilarious sense, or at least that's what I'm telling myself when life feels like I'm riding on some crazy tilt-a-whirl going 'SHIT THIS RIDE'S SCARY GET ME THE FUCK OFF', you know? And I can see it in you, sister, you got the monochrome sadness all up in your faith sponges, don't you? If you took up the wicked paints, you'd finally get some wild color up in you, you'd burn like fireworks with all the Divine in you. Just let me get out one'a these motherfuckin' pamphlet things, it even doubles as a fuckin' coloring book how bitching is that? Uhh, just a sec--"

You pretend to rummage in your pockets while she holds up her hands palms up and backs away. "No, listen, I'm. I'm not interested. I'm really, really not interested, I'm sorry I even asked."

She hightails it back to her work station like you lit her sculpted ass on fire, and you have to smother a giggle behind your fingers as you glance heavenward in silent camaraderie with your skybros.

You get more stares as you walk on, but nobody else talks to you while you wander around lost, which is indeed a blessing because you're pretty sure the only way you're gonna find Twitchy in this giant fuckoff hellmaze is by sheer dumb luck.

Which is exactly what happens. You want to cry with relief when you see her there happily engrossed in her game. As you make your way over to her table, your thinkpan is full of incoherent prayers of gratitude that you're here and she's here and nobody locked you in a broom closet and left you there to die. You did it. You were lost for what felt like forever and it was scary and you feel like warmed over shit, but you did it.

You snicker wanly when she says that. "Hey, Twitch. It's me."

 

"You!" Twitch says, with dawning pleasure. She points at her wrist, at MOIRAIL. "You, right? You look— uh— well, it's nice to see you. Sit here."

When Lu sits, Twitch shyly puts an arm around her thin ribs. "You look like you need a whole lot of taking care of, doll," she says, blushing at her own cheesy line.

 

"Me!" you affirm, sliding in next to her and grinning hugely. She puts her arm around you and you huddle close shamelessly, blushing like a furnace. Doll. She called you doll, just like in those movies. "Don't I know it. This place is so huge, Twitch, I dunno how anybody does shit. And. And. I need one'a them bland-ass uniforms so's I don't stick out too much. I had to throw some Divine bullshit at this one lady and I'm gonna have to do such penance later for bein' all false at her, but hahahaha it was being so fucking worth it."

 

Twitch grins. "Well, you can preach divine bullshit at me all you want, so long as you don't care if I don't remember a fucking word. We'll both be observant as shit for like, two minutes. Anyway yeah your clothes are a mess, girl, when's the last time you had anything new? I get new clothes. We'll find you new clothes. Remind me after din— lunch. I think this is lunch. I think I'm on gamma shift. You wanna get food now? It's an automat, if you go over you can just pick out whatever you want from the hatches, they work like a sylladex card that anyone can access."

((trollish automats have an edge over the human ones in that they employ captchalogue tech and so each compartment can hold multiple instances of pie slices or soup bowls or whatever, which are held in stasis until removed, and so food would come out perfectly fresh and not need to be periodically replaced like analogue automats))

 

You burst into giggles. "Aww, we'll have us a lil two minute sermon then, just you and me." You wiggle happily, simply content that you're with somebody who likes you and you're not lost and afraid anymore. You wrinkle your nose at the mention of clothes. "I ain't been shopping in fuckin' forever, sister, it's an upright shame, lookit, my tights all got holes up in'em. Fortunately they look all deliberate and shit or somebody might up and think I was all to being some kinda pervert." You widen your eyes at her all mock-innocent and giggle crudely.

"Mm, yeah, I guess I better, huh," you mutter. You're actually feeling pretty queasy at the moment, and you're not sure if food will make that go away or make it worse. You peer at the automat and decide nabbing a plate can't hurt--at best you'll get some nourishment that actually sticks to your ribs, and at worst you'll hork it all up and Twitch will cuddle you a lot. "'Kay, let's motherfuckin' do this."

You wobble your way over, and after milling around for a little while, you put together a tray of stuff you think you'll be able to keep down.

Your tray consists of the following: eight bacon pancake strips, two pizza-stuffed grubcakes, two chocolate pudding cups, a strawberry jelly larvae, and a Galaxy Green soda. After a moment's thought, you add some fried pill bugs that have some kind of green garnish on them. There. A lil' vegetable.

 

Twitch frowns at the tray thoughtfully when Lu sits down. "I thought you were sick," she says. "Right? You were sick? Are you better now? Or is that for me...? I'm hungry." She sneaks a hand towards a pizza grubcake. She's a solid, brick-shaped girl, rounded out from the wet scrap of bones and seizures she was when she was first pulled out of her rig, and pizza grubcakes have played a significant part in this aspect of her recovery.

 

You pick up your jelly larvae and bite its head off so as to drink its syrupy innards. Hell yes. "Mmpf? I dunno, I'm feeling kinda shitty but I got my ass out here, so's I figure I earned me some fuckin' sugar. And yeah, you help yourself, my ganderbulbs were prolly all to being too big for my digestive sac anyhow."

You take a pancake bacon strip and pop it in your mouth. Your eyes widen in an "I just found breakfast Nirvana" look and you immediately attempt to stuff three more in your mouth.

 

"Hey. Hey, stop that." Twitch takes the tray of junk food away and puts it on the other side of herself. "You don't earn sugar for being sick. You get sick because you're sick and you're eating too much sugar when you're sick. I think. It's science. Give me those." She takes the remaining pancake bacon out of Lu's hand and looks stern when Lu makes a protest. "This is like, no. This is like 'I'm A Rust Construction Drone And I Need Fifty Million Calories Right Now' food. I'm going to get you 'Hello I'm Some Kind Of Sad Zombie' food. Because you look like a sad zombie. Sit there and then wave at me if I look lost."

She strides authoritatively off to the automat display and fills a tray with much more thoughtful deliberation— high-protein stew with tuber slices, several chunks of panfried fish, and a cup of juice with krill— though towards the end she looks confused, then lost, then orders more pizza grubs.

 

You make a completely tragic whine around your mouthful of bliss, but make no attempt to reclaim your tray once she gets between you and it. "Awww, but Twitch--" She gives you that stern look and you make your your meekest, most pathetic pout. "I can be a rust construction drone--" you start, but then she's scooting off to get you different food and you do as she says.

Your tray is still where she left it, of course, but it's well out of reach and all at once you don't have much energy to grab it--and besides, she said no. Heaving a woebegone sigh, you rest your head in your arms and watch her pick out your lunch. You have to admit, what she takes for you looks pretty dang good--it ain't bacon pancakes, but it's still nice. They have nice food on this nightmare hellmaze ship.

When she starts looking a bit confused, you wait until you catch her eye again and give her a wave. It's not even a "hey, this is a reminder for your pan" wave--you just do it like you're waving hello, again, from your little corner of misery with no pudding cups. You are the saddest clown.

 

Twitch is startled, then peers at Lu, then peers around the room to make sure if Lu is waving at her— then trots over to the table.

"Hey, I, uh, I think this is for you," she says. "You, uh, you look like you could use, um. A nice meal. And maybe a friend." She rubs the back of one of her horns in shy embarrassment.

 

Your pumpbiscuit promptly melts at that, your lips curving into a doofy smile. "Well then, it's a good thing I all got one then, don't I?" you say and give her cheek a peck as you stand up so she can sit back down where she was before. Once she's settled, you sit and take in your new tray of edibles. Your bilesac does an odd little flip, but chugging down your juice seems to help a little bit. You take a few slow bites of stew, and as the warmth spreads through you, you decide that, yeah, this is a lot better than jelly grubs. "So whatcha got planned after lunch?"

 

"I, uh." Twitch is bright yellow across the cheeks, thoroughly flustered, but attempts to cope. "I could hang out with you," she says gamely. "Since we're friends." She scoots a little closer, and helps herself to a pizza grub off Lu's tray. "We could do what you were planning."

 

"Me? Planning? Hahaha. Weell, f you don't got more work or nothin', maybe you'n me can go watch a grubvid," You griiin and waggle your brows at her, even as your fins heat up. You have a feeling you're going to fall asleep five minutes in, but it would be more interesting for Twitchy than just napping. "You can even choose that shit, I ain't being any kind of picky."

You pick at your food while you talk. The fish is really very good, but your stomach's already regretting the jelly grub you horfed down before Twitchy rightly confiscated your tray of sin. You slug back the krill juice in hope that this settles your stomach some and huddle a little bit closer. Twitchy is like a tiny little heater and you want nothing more than to stick your freezing feet up under her butt, but you don't do this because 1. you're all in a cafeteria and you have some sense of decorum and 2. Twitchy probably wouldn't like being introduced to your icy lil' footnubbins like that.

You stare at the rest of your stew and such. You can't finish it, and looking at it depresses you. "Uhh. Think I can all be saving this for later, hon? It's good, it is, but my bilesac's doin' back flips all up inside me."

 

==> Be the Acting Captain.

On the contrary, you've finally managed to carve out an hour or two in which to not be the Acting Captain, and you intend to enjoy it. Sadly, all your quadrants are unavailable; Pancho's work schedule conflicts with yours most of the time, Galley's busy with a couple of refuel dockings (he's extra careful about docking procedures since the Zero Sum, for which you do not blame him at all), and Erskin is still in the heal tank and under VR with Jethro, though Sigs assures you it won't be for much longer.

You do have friends, though. You spent your last free hour (ages ago, it seems) helping Murfey build his bar. This time you want to be 'outdoors'. You head for Twitch's last known location, poking at park plans on your tablet. This idea of an athletic park with lots of activities to do is getting pretty popular with the crew, and working on it sounds like just the kind of stretching-out you need right now.

Ah, there she is. "Hey, Princess. Want to come work on the running track with me? I've got some... nice..." You trail off as you look up from your tablet and see who Twitch is sitting with. There should not be anyone on this ship you don't recognize. "Hello, stranger," you say mildly, raising an eyebrow.

 

Twitch intercepts Bel's look at Lu and puffs up protectively, her nubby forked horns lowering. She's been sympathetically rubbing the indigo's back and encouraging her to take deep breaths and occasional sips of juice. She's also clearly ready to fight the world for her.

"Can I help you," she says belligerently.

 

Okay, that's interesting. And cute. And slightly alarming. "Yes, you can," you tell her, tempering your firmness with a little gentleness in case this is one of the times she doesn't remember you're friends. "You can tell me who this new person is. I'm supposed to know about all the new people."

((bel is out of uniform, btw; he's dressed for athletic park funtimes. so unless he was pointed out to lu as the acting captain at some point before this, he's just some blueblood.))

 

Twitch backs down fractionally. She doesn't recognize Bel in his casual clothes, but the chain of command between a young helmsman and a mature blueblood four times her size is fairly self-evident.

"She's not new, she's my friend, sir," she says, perfectly clear and confident on this subject, then hesitates. "She's.... um. Her name is... She can introduce herself."

(now lu)

 

The moment Tablet Guy wanders over, the first thought in your head is goddamn how is anybody all to being hatched with hair that fuckin' shiny for? You are simultaneously amazed and jealous. He must wash it in the tears of orphaned baby fairy bulls, how else could he grow keratin that fancy?

But then he looks up at you, and you notice his blue, blue eyes and go still. As much as you'd like to imagine that your face is carefully expressionless, you can't fool yourself: you are completely spooked. You can tell because all the blood just rushed to your face and fins and your fingers are tingling and your pulse just got uncomfortably fast.

Was he looking at you because someone reported alla that clown cultist preachy nonsense you pulled earlier? Are your Lords punishing you? Or was it because you don't have a uniform? Did Galley sell out your shit after all? Oh fuck. Oh shit. Say something. Say something.

Underneath your dread, you are aware that Twitchy is rubbing your back and saying things to you, but her voice registers all fuzzy, and all her touch does is make your back tingle unpleasantly. You try to take a sip of juice but end up sloshing it the moment he mentions that he's supposed to know about all the new people.

Oh fuck. Oh gods. You're screwed. You are completely and utterly screwed, he's gonna find out you're not supposed to be here, that you're underage and stole up somebody's job and you haven't technically done any work at all since you got here anyway. Without meaning to, you've tilted your own ugly, jagged little horn stubs back submissively, showing your throat, your eyes locked on the ceiling somewhere over the blueblood's head. You can't look anywhere else, because your mouth is filling up with saliva and the ringing in your ears just got a whole lot worse, and they're both looking at you, and you don't know what to do, you don't know what to do--

You open your mouth to say your name and hurl all over his shoes.

 

You dodge, but it splashes. You're super annoyed about that for all of two seconds, and then Twitch's protective puffery and the indigo's panicky submissiveness and everything all add up and you realize this is a kid, and she's terrified.

So your irritated sigh is gentle and tolerant, kind of wry, and you hand the kid a wad of napkins before calling a work droid over to mop up.

"You look like that's the first real meal you've had in a perigee, kid. No wonder it came back up. Or are you actually sick? My moirail's on duty in medbay right now, I can call ahead and get her to clear a little time for you." Ostensibly focused on cleaning up your one pair of athletic shoes, you're watching both girls out of the corner of your eye. "Relax, we're not going to space you or anything. We just need to figure out where you belong."