Reformation: Chapter Thirty

Notes: A little longer today, yay! Prepare for...baaaattles iiiiin spaaaaaaaace! Next week will be Cody and Ten making more questionable decisions, which should be lots of fun.

Title: Reformation: Chaper Thirty

***

Chapter Thirty

The air reverberated with the sound of alarms, yellow and red lights almost blinding as they blinked in time with their auditory accompaniment. Darrel sat fixed in his chair, hands gripping the seat so hard he couldn’t even feel them anymore, heart racing.

“Forward shields down to fifteen percent, sir! Ventral shields down to five. One more strafe across the bottom and we’re going to start venting!”

“The Cleaver is dead in space, sir! Full evac ongoing, but two Starshatterers are closing in on it.”

“Captain Obede says he needs another five minutes before he can safely break formation, sir.”

“Sir—”

“Sir—”

“All firepower and shields forward, full weapons spread and engage wherever we get a lock. If our shields are low, theirs have to be close to tatters.” General Caractacus’ voice cut through the babble like a scalpel through flesh. “Put as much of our bulk between the Cleaver and her pursuers as possible. Acknowledge Obede, but tell him to shave two minutes off that time, because we’re not going to be able to maintain our position for longer than that.” He paused for a moment, then continued. “And signal our own evacuation. All non-essential personnel are to proceed to the escape pods immediately.”

“But sir—”

“We’re not going to survive many more direct hits. We don’t have the power or maneuverability this close to the other ships, but if we don’t stay close to cover their retreats, more lives will be lost. Signal the evacuation now. I want to see progress with our battery, give me a status update!”

More happened, the timbre of the alarms changing, more orders shouted, officers scuttling to obey, and yet for Darrel everything felt like it was coming at him through gauzy layers of cloth. Even his breaths, tight and short as they were, seemed muffled, like he was inhaling into a pair of pillowcases, not lungs. They were the best ship in the fleet, and they were evacuating. What did that mean for everyone else?

Clumsily, Darrel pulled up his seat’s nav screen. He could have looked over Lieutenant Reyes’ shoulder, but he didn’t want to risk distracting her. He scanned the numbers, desperate for a sign that the general was overreacting, that things weren’t as bad as he feared. But…no, it was bad enough. Their original contingent of eighteen was down to twelve, nothing but the smallest ships and their own super-destroyer still bringing the fight. On the other hand, the pirates had gone from twenty-nine ships to fifteen, and even as he watched, another one of their signals flared briefly, then died. They still had their own destroyer, though, and if the Triumph went down, it would be able to pick off the remnants of the fleet, mostly Skyblazers, built for speed but not meant to sustain heavy damage. On the other hand, if they could take out the destroyer first, then the Skyblazers would have an even fight ahead of them, slightly outnumbered but better prepared to move and dodge.

There was no way, though. All scans of the enemy destroyer showed robust shielding still holding at fifty percent, and the ship had no compunction about ordering smaller vessels into the path of the Triumph’s fire to save it from more damage. It was a bulky, clumsy thing, but in a toe-to-toe fight right now, it would win. It was winning, because Miles was concerned with saving his people’s lives, and the enemy captain clearly wasn’t.

“Pirates, my ass,” he heard Reyes mutter, her hands flying over her screen. “No pirates are this disciplined. They should have cut and run like the Hammerfall an hour ago.”

“Update on the Cleaver, sir, all crew accounted for and away.”

“Including Captain Gorion?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And our own evacuation?”

“Fifty percent and—enemy ship rolling beneath us, sir, we’re going to take fire!”

“Shift all power to ventral shields, maximum thrusters for a portside roll, now!”

The Triumph began its maneuver, but Darrel was positive they were too late. Their belly was raw and exposed, and even a little ship like that could do enough damage to send them reeling. If they hit the engines, the super-destroyer would be blown in half. He and everyone else on the bridge held their breath as the nav officer said, “Taking fire in three, two—missed us, sir!” He sounded amazed. “Not entirely, some hit the starboard edge, but we’re doing all right. Ship is—”

“Continue the roll.”

“Sir, then we’ll hit the enemy ship!”

“Exactly.” He sounded darkly satisfied. “Brace for impact.”

Darrel braced, but it still wasn’t enough to keep him from feeling the vibration of the blow all the way into his teeth, the ground-shattering feeling of two enormous vessels of war colliding in an otherwise frictionless environment. More alarms sounded, but it hardly mattered at this point—they couldn’t get any more distracting. Vaguely, Darrel felt a fluttering at the edges of his mind that he knew was Grennson, desperate for answers. He should have evacuated already…

“Sir, we’ve lost our portside thrusters, shields down to two percent!”

“Evacuate the essential personnel and pass me helm control. Get yourselves to the escape pods.”

There was a moment of pure, stunned silence on the bridge, and then an outcry from every person there.

“We can’t leave you to—”

“I can stay, I can—”

“Let us—”

“Please, don’t—”

“This is not up for discussion!” There was the scalpel voice again, and this time it stabbed Darrel straight in the heart. “Give me control of the helm and get to your pods, now. That’s an order, people, move!” And reluctantly, unhappily, people did.

Reyes touched Darrel’s arm, drawing him out of his distracted state. “C’mon, cadet,” she murmured. “We have to go.”

Darrel didn’t respond, watching the new course Miles plotted on the nav screen. He was heading straight for the destroyer, a lurching, tilted charge thanks to the loss of one whole set of thrusters. The destroyer was already backing away, firing full tilt at the same time. It was a race to see if the Triumph would reach it before it exploded.

<Darrel? I’ve saved a pod, come meet me!>

He sent back a general feeling of wait before getting to his feet. There was something he needed to do first. “I’ll be right there,” he said. “You go, Lieutenant. Thank you.”

She frowned. “Cadet, I’ll make it an order if I have to.”

He smiled unsteadily. “I’m already disobeying one order, I’ve got no problem disobeying another one. Go on, I’ll be right there.” He had to keep Miles from doing something stupid, first.

In another thirty seconds, it was just the two of them on the bridge. “I believe I told you to evacuate, Cadet,” Miles said, but the ferocious sense of purpose had gone out of his voice.

“I will, sir, but only if you come with me.”

“Don’t worry about me, I don’t intend to commit glorious suicide today.”

Darrel bit his lip for a moment, then rushed ahead. “Captains never do, but eight out of ten times in similar situations, they do it anyway. My father did. I read all the transcripts of the battle he was in, I analyzed it over and over, and—he could have gotten away. He could have lived. He chose not to, because he thought he was helping more people by staying behind, but he didn’t. I’ve aggregated reports for every major battle of the past fifty years and investigated similar scenarios, and with very few exceptions, when a captain stays behind, they do so for no palpable gain. But they do it, because something about being in charge makes you feel too responsible.” He risked a touch of Miles’ arm. “Don’t do that to your family, please. Cody would never get over it.”

Miles raised one eyebrow. “I feel like you’re blackmailing me, Cadet.”

“Maybe I am, sir.”

“And I think it’s working.” Miles shut his eyes for a moment, then his fingers began to fly across the nav screen. “All right, I’ve autoset our course. If that destroyer gets smart we’ll miss it entirely, but we’ve still got a chance of hitting it.” He got up out of his chair. “I assume Grennson is holding a pod?”

“How did you—”

“Oh please. He wouldn’t leave without you. Lead the way, Darrel.”

The halls were empty of people now, and they couldn’t walk more than five steps without being sent staggering as another explosion rocked the ship. By the time they got to Grennson, Darrel was afraid the Triumph would break apart under their feet.

“Oh good!” Grennson beamed at them, and it was like sunshine in the middle of Darrel’s mind for a moment. “You brought him! Get in, everything is prepped to go.”

The launch sequence seemed to take forever, even though realistically, Darrel knew Miles was working as fast as he could. Finally the airlock closed, and the mechanism gave the pod a gentle push away from the carcass of their ship. The three of them clustered around the single window, watching as the Triumph gradually came into view.

“Poor girl,” Miles murmured. “My poor, poor girl.”

“You did your best by her, sir,” Grennson murmured comfortingly.

“Perhaps. If not, then it’s too late for—” His voice cut off abruptly as the ship suddenly flared with light, a coruscating series of explosions breaking it into pieces at last. “Boys, get dow—” They didn’t have time to strap in before the shockwave reached them, though, and sent the pod hurtling toward Pandora at breakneck speed.

Reformation: Chapter Twenty-Eight

Notes: The battle has begun! Have some starships duking it out for a while. Tactics, treachery and a whole lot of Darrel doing his best to follow along.

Title: Reformation: Chapter Twenty-Eight

***

Chapter Twenty-Eight

They weren’t caught off guard. That was the best that could be said of the Federation Fleet’s initial foray into battle. They knew what they were flying into, and that was the only reason that the descent from liminal space didn’t result in a bloodbath. That, and modified shields that gave the Federation ships a better chance against energy weapons that tore through their outer resonances like they were cobweb.

Darrel sat frozen in his seat behind Cadet Reyes, watching the numbers fade in and out on her tactical screen and listening to General Caractacus respond to his crew’s information with calm, detached orders. “The Pisces is heeling, sir, portside shields look to be completely down!”

“The rest of Pisces’ detachment will bring up cover for her. Keep our firepower on the ship in front of us.” He sounded so certain, but Darrel knew there was no certainty in the heart of battle. It was clear now which commanders had been slow to respond to the general’s staffing and defensive orders—they were taking heavier damage, and were slower to respond to threats. Their fleet was outnumbered initially, twenty-nine ships to eighteen, but they weren’t entirely outgunned. The pirates in front of them—and Darrel had never even heard of pirates who had access to a military-level Destroyer, it was a fucking farce—were being surprisingly chary with their ammunition, and their delays gave the biggest Federation ships time to maneuver themselves into the line of fire.

One of the ship designations on Reyes’ screen suddenly went dark. “Enemy ship destroyed, sir!”

“Target the next closest of a similar size within the same zone. On my mark, turn broadside guns on it and focus our forward firepower on the ship harassing the Cleaver.”

“Sir,” one of the tac officers called out worriedly, “if we change our heading like that, we open ourselves up to enemy fire against the dorsal shields. They’re down to fifty-one percent.”

“If we lose the Cleaver, we open up the smaller ships she’s protecting to firepower they can’t expect to handle. We’ll manage, Cadet. In three, two…mark.”

The Triumph was a Super-Destroyer, a new class of ship that was bigger and more powerful than anything the Federation had put out in decades. There hadn’t been much of a need, without open warfare dogging them, but the admiralty had wanted a new toy. The Triumph was half again larger than a regular Destroyer, had more flexible defensive capabilities and a weapons system that was more than a match for anything they were facing. That was good, since it was the only ship in the fleet that was doing consistent damage to the enemy ships. The Triumph’s starboard battery opened fire on the harrier-class that was firing on them, hitting it with a flurry of destructive power so vast it had no choice but to run. It tried, but it didn’t make it far. “Enemy ship destroyed, sir!”

“Two on our tail, sinking under to fire on our belly!”

“Fire ventral thrusters fifty percent, take us down. Maintain forward firepower on the Cleaver’s enemy.”

“Aye, sir.” The ship began a vertical roll, its stern dropping as the bow remained fixed on the ship it was engaging there. The forward guns weren’t as powerful as the side batteries, but between their firepower and the Cleaver’s defensive shots, the enemy ship had to turn tail and run.

“They’re following and firing, sir, impact in six seconds.”

“Ventral thrusters to full power, end forward engagement. Brace for impact.”

Three, two, one… Darrel counted down in his head, gritting his teeth, but when the shots hit it wasn’t nearly as stunning as some of the earlier hits had been.

“Deflection to ventral shields was seventy-five percent. We’re holding steady, sir.”

“Good. Give me a count.”

“Twenty-four enemy ships remain. We have all eighteen, although—” The tac officer cut off for a moment. When he spoke up again, he sounded worried. “Pisces is in bad shape, sir. Captain Himmel has ordered an evacuation. Their shields are next to nothing, and there are two ships converging on it.”

“Where’s Himmel’s detachment leader?”

“Captain Uris isn’t responding to the comm, sir.”

“Force a connection, and get us to Pisces, now. Inform Captain Gorion that the Cleaver will have to stand in front for the moment.”

“Aye, sir!” People got to work, and Darrel’s hands itched with the urge to be doing something, anything, other than watching. On the other hand, seeing how hard Reyes was working just to get the Triumph going in the right direction, much less responding to commands from the tactical staff, and he had to admit that he was probably doing more good by not doing anything at all.

“Connection holding, sir! We have the Hammerfall on the conn.”

“Captain Uris.” Darrel shivered at the dark tone of the general’s voice. He’d first met the man as Cody’s grandfather, a kind, patient man. He’d gotten to know him better as a commanding officer, hard but fair. This tone, though? There was nothing kind or fair about it—he sounded coldly furious. “Why aren’t you covering your detachment?”

“I’m currently engaged with two separate warships, General,” Captain Uris snapped. “Forgive me if I don’t have time to pander to your urge to backseat command.”

“Your destroyer should have been at the front of your detachment, not cowering behind a Class-Five Skyblazer. You’ve been engaged with those two ships for half an hour. They’re a third your size. Why aren’t they destroyed?”

“Not all of us have your firepower, sir. My shields are at forty percent and dropping, I don’t have time to—”

“Captain Obede.” The general cut off the detachment commander, talking directly to her subordinate. “Status, now.”

“Shields at eighty-five percent, sir.”

“Why are you shadowing Uris instead of assisting the Pisces?”

“Sir, I was ordered by my commanding officer to maintain a defensive position on Hammerfall’s port side.” He sounded tense.

“Shut your mouth, Obede. That’s an order!”

“Ma’am, my general has asked me to report. I must comply with his direct order, the same as I did for you.”

“Open my comm to the rest of Uris’s detachment,” Miles directed his communications officer. When she nodded, he spoke with resounding authority. “Captains Obede, Kylal, and Terry, I’m reassigning you to my detachment. Disregard all former directives and protect the evacuation of the Pisces. Kylal and Terry, for the time being, follow Captain Obede’s lead.”

“Aye, sir.” A chorus of what sounded like relieved voices echoed through the comm, and Darrel could see the ships begin to move away from Hammerfall.

“You can’t steal my detachment in the middle of battle!”

“You haven’t proven to me that you deserve them,” Miles retorted. “How many enemy ships have you destroyed, Captain?”

“I’ve been faced with a situation that—”

“None. And according to my engineer’s scan, your shields are over ninety percent. If you want your protective detail back,” and oh, the general sounded positively vicious now, “then you’ll prove your mettle by putting your ship on the line for this fleet. The Hammerfall is the second most powerful ship we have. It needs to be doing the second-highest amount of damage.”

“You don’t understand anything.” Captain Uris was practically spitting into the conn. “This can only end one way, and I’m not going to drag myself and my crew through the black just so you can go down in a blaze of glory! I refuse to follow your immoral orders. We’re leaving.” And a moment later…

“Hammerfall has entered liminal space, sir.” The communications officer sounded stunned. “She’s gone.” And all the enemy ships that had been closing in on her were suddenly free to target other, less defensible vessels.

“The Pisces’ main engine has just blown, sir,” a tac officer added. “It’s completely disintegrated. Last evac numbers were at eighty percent safely away.”

“And Captain Himmel?”

“I believe the captain went down with the ship, sir.”

A moment of solemn silence reigned before Miles spoke again. “Pursue broadside engagement against the three nearest ships. Roll us if you have to, we’re playing a game of brute force now.”

Rolling them would expose the fragile dorsal shields. But the Triumph was the only cover some of the smaller ships had, and would make itself vulnerable accordingly.

Darrel gritted his teeth and took a deep breath as the ship began to twist.

Reformation: Chapter Twenty-Six

Notes: Happy Valentine's Day, darlins! Thanks to everyone who played along with my audiobook contest, and thanks to everyone who's commented and messaged me. I'm moving a little slowly lately (really persistent cold) but I swear, I'll get back to you soon. In the meantime, enjoy some new perspectives.

Title: Reformation: Chapter Twenty-Six

***

Chapter Twenty-Six

Miles sat alone in his ready room, eyes darting between the message he’d just received from his son and the data he was getting on the enemy fleet’s formation. They were less than a standard day’s distance from Pandora. Now, he reminded himself firmly, was not the time to turn this ship around and blast Raymond Alexander’s personal residence into atoms.

They’re safe. That was the first thing Garrett had said, that his girls were safe. It was a good way to start, because the story that followed was harrowing enough without a load of uncertainty on top of it. Explosions, deaths, being hunted down and almost captured if not for intervention from Perelan’s ambassadors. Now his family was on the way to an alien planet where the Federation had very little jurisdiction, which was a comfort. The president’s gamble had failed.

You’re next. His son had sounded hollow as he said the words, like all the energy had been burnt out of him. He’ll have them focus on your flagship, to try and take you out. It’ll sow dissension and put your fleet into a state of chaos. You should hang back, let other ships take the brunt of the attacks while you whittle them down.

It was a loving thought, but not a practical one. Miles’s ship was the flagship for a reason—it was half again as big as any of the other vessels, and had the best shields and guns by far. Miles had already pulled his senior staff aside and had them install a program into the tracking systems that was calibrated to center on the energy signatures of the waiting ships, instead of arriving in a flurry and wasting valuable time trying to identify the enemy. He’d gotten some side-eyes for it, but nothing he couldn’t defuse and certainly no accusations, not after laying down the law with his subordinate captains. They could complain about him all they wanted to, but they would follow him into battle and follow their orders or he would install a new captain in their place.

Less than twenty-four hours before they arrived. He should sleep. He should send Garrett more than a rote affirmation of receipt of his message. What he wanted to do was contact the Perel ship directly, but that could draw attention that would be unwise, not to mention deadly for everyone aboard. They wouldn’t be safe until they were actually on the planet. Raymond hadn’t grown bold enough to attack a sovereign alien world, not yet. Not ever if Miles had his way.

His children were in the hands of the Perel. He, in turn, had one of their children on his ship. Miles rubbed his eyes for a moment, then went back to studying the spacescape over Pandora. He was going to do everything in his power to make sure that child was returned, safely, to his home.

***

There was a strange sort of tension on board, nothing like what Darrel had imagined when he thought about serving in the Fleet. He had assumed that activity would far outweigh any downtime, that excitement would supersede boredom, that duty wouldn’t feel like so much terrifying obligation. He was wrong. They were heading into a fight tomorrow, and far from bluster and brashness, everyone around him was just…quiet. Like they couldn’t quite believe what was happening to them, and didn’t want to think about it anyway. Most of the crew were first and second year cadets, so that stood to reason.

Eventually he took refuge in the room he shared with Grennson, who looked as disturbed as Darrel had ever seen him, all his quills sharp and lifted. “Oh,” Darrel said, finally understanding. “This must feel even worse to you.”

Grennson nodded miserably. “There’s a lot of fear. It’s…without something like adrenaline to combat it, fear is an exhausting emotion to subject yourself to over and over. It grates against the mind, always moving, never silent. It’s radiating at me from all corners of the ship right now, and I can’t escape it.”

Darrel sat down next to him. “Am I making it worse, or do you want me to stay?”

Grennson immediately took his hand. “Stay. You make everything better.”

Darrel had finally gotten over his blushing reaction every time Grennson complimented him, but he still felt a little swell of warmth from it. “Here, sit down in front of me.” He tossed a cushion on the floor. “And try not to stab me, okay?”

“Okay.” Grennson got down on his knees, facing away from Darrel, and Darrel cracked his knuckles and tried to remember what Jason had told him about tension headaches and Perel. Light and gentle, focus on the temples, deep breaths, easy strokes. He set his fingertips along the ridge of Grennson’s eyebrows and stroked outward, following the curving bone to the very edge of Grennson’s temples, then repeating it. Slowly he got into a rhythm, and as he made his gentle motions, his own nerves started to settle. He could see the good it did Grennson, the stiffness of his quills lessening until at last they were feather-soft again, his shoulders gradually lowering until they didn’t almost touch his ears anymore.

Darrel wasn’t sure how long he’d been going, but by the time he stopped he could tell that their breaths, even their heartbeats, were in perfect sync. It was the sort of empathic connection Perel were only capable of with people they were especially close to, and he felt grateful that he qualified. “Do you think you can sleep?”

Grennson nodded. “Do you feel ready for tomorrow?”

Darrel shrugged. “I’ve spent so much time on the sims lately I feel like I’ve been living there. I feel better about being Reyes’s backup, at least. I think that’s the best I can hope for.”

“Then it will be enough.”

Darrel hoped that Grennson was right.

***

“You’ve got to sleep, darlin’.”

Garrett shook his head, resolutely not looking at his hallucination of Jonah. “I’ve got to finish this first.”

“Sigurd’s working on it. Let him handle things while you take a break.”

“It’s too much for just one person to work out.”

“Especially when one of them is dead on his feet.”

“If you could avoid that word while I don’t know whether you’re alive or not, I’d really appreciate it,” Garrett snapped, breaking his resolution and glaring at the image of his husband. He knew he wasn’t there, he knew it, but he didn’t feel it. It felt like Jonah, and if he let himself go too far down that hall, he wouldn’t be able to back out of it. Especially if Jonah really was… “I’ll sleep in another few hours.”

“Fifteen minutes,” Jonah wheedled. “Fifteen minutes to let Sigurd tie the net tighter without you. That’s all.”

“There’s no time to—”

“There is, darlin’. I swear there is. You know it must be true if you’re the one thinkin’ it.”

Garrett sighed. “Stop logicking me.”

“You’re doing it to yourself. C’mon.” Jonah patted the couch where he was sitting. “Come and sit, just for a little while. Come back at it fresh.”

“Just for a little while.” Garrett’s arms felt like lead as he pushed away from the table, and it was surprisingly difficult to get all the way over to the couch. He sipped from the bottle of water Jonah pointed out on the side table, then leaned his head back with a sigh. It wasn’t fair. Humans had figured out cures to almost every disease and disorder that could come at them, had found a way to practically defeat death itself, and yet there was still no way to go completely without sleep. Oh, there were stimulants that would let you evade it for days, weeks if need be, but none of them came without permanent side effects. Garrett was rather fond of his brain, all things considered—he wasn’t about to sacrifice it for the sake of a few more minutes, even though he kind of wanted to.

“No, you don’t.”

“Stop telling me things I already know.”

“Somebody’s gotta say them out loud.” Jonah was so close, Garrett could feel the heat of his thigh. Or rather…well, it was as though he could, which was better than the alternative. Wasn’t it?

“If you’re that confused, you need more sleep.”

“Anyone would be confused talking to their hallucination,” Garrett defended himself. He had to keep saying that—as tempting as it was to live in the delusion more fully, his actual husband was on Pandora fighting for his life. He’d better be fighting for his life, at least. Garrett couldn’t let himself forget that.

“He’d want you to sleep too. C’mon, kick your shoes off, darlin’, stay a while.”

Garrett sighed. “One hour.”

“Four.”

“Two.”

“Three and a half.”

“Two and a half.”

“Three it is.” Jonah sounded satisfied. “Lay down, relax. I’ll get you up in time.”

Garrett didn’t let himself think too hard about his own sub-conscious promises as he settled on the couch. A minute later, he couldn’t think at all.

Sleep had never come so fast.

Reformation: Chapter Nineteen

Notes: Darrel perspective this time! A little aside on sucking, which I was really feeling fit my life yesterday, and what you can do to snap out of it. Also, in case I don't talk to you again between now and then...Merry Christmas, darlins!

Title: Reformation: Chapter Nineteen

***

Chapter Nineteen

Actually helming a starship was nothing like the sims. After his first session shadowing Lieutenant Reyes on the second set of controls, acting as her backup but not given actual control of the ship, Darrel was convinced that whatever he’d been doing at the Academy so far was designed to frustrate, not educate. He watched Reyes look at her gravity map and adjust thrusters and tried to see what she was seeing, tried to get a handle on what he should be doing to compensate, but it completely evaded him. There were no consequences for his poor response time other than an amber light briefly flickering on Reyes’s control panel, but it was embarrassing to see her turn her head and look at him assessingly—again—like she couldn’t figure out his dysfunction. Well, fuck it—he couldn’t either.

Darrel just wasn’t a natural pilot, not like Cody. He could read the schematics of a ship until he was blue in the face, understand the physics of landing and takeoff and increasing speed, adjusting for gravitational waves and the firelines of other ships, and he understood it all. Intellectually. Actually doing something with it was a whole other story, and his acceptable performance grades in the sim did him almost no good on a real ship. By the end of his eight-hour shift, he was about ready to fry the secondary control panel just so he didn’t have to sit there and suck so badly again.

“First shift dismissed, Second is ready to take control.” General Caractacus’s voice was as calm as ever, and went a little ways toward calming Darrel down. If the general had noticed how lousy his second helmsman was, he hadn’t mentioned it yet. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t, though. They were headed for a fight, and if Darrel couldn’t figure out how to manage input from his implant and sensory data from the ship itself as they headed into battle, he could fly them into the path of their own fleet’s missiles. Fuck, what would his grandparents have to say then? The son of a Federation hero, a famous pilot, destroying his own ship in a mistimed maneuver. He’d be posthumously disowned.

Darrel pushed back from the control panel and headed for the exit. He needed some more time in the on-board sim, and dinner, and some time with Grennson. The Perel was pulling overtime in the infirmary as a counselor, his empathy giving him a huge advantage when it came to diagnosing and settling nervy cadets, and he loved the work, but he’d take a break for Darrel.

“Cadet Parrish!”

Darrel stopped in his tracks with a little internal groan. That was Reyes. He turned and faced the senior cadet, already a tabbed lieutenant with a promised placement on a ship as soon as this action was over. “Ma’am.”

“Where are you off to so fast?”

“Simulator. Ma’am,” he added. “I obviously need to get some more time in before anybody lets me near the real deal.”

“Aw, you’re not so bad.”

Darrel couldn’t stop his eyebrows from rising. “You must not have been watching the same performance as me, Ma’am. All of my reactions were off. I didn’t respond within the same parameters as you more than ten percent of the time, and even when I did, my responses weren’t always accurate. I basically—”

“Sucked harder than a black hole?”

Darrel nodded stiffly.

“Good lord.” Reyes threw an arm around his shoulder—not the easiest thing, since Darrel had at least eight inches on her—and guided him down the hall. “No you’re not going to sims, you’re going to come eat with me and let me talk your ear off for a little while, okay?”

“Will you talking my ear off make me better at the helm?” Darrel asked a little morosely, and Reyes laughed.

“Maybe not, but it might make you feel a little better. I don’t want to send you back to your friend looking like you have the weight of the universe on your back; he’ll think we’re abusing you on the bridge.”

Darrel shook his head. “Grennson knows better than that.”

“He knows a lot, huh? The empathy thing, I mean.”

“Kind of. It’s not exactly like mind-reading, though. There’s no actual telepathy except between bonded individuals, and even then it doesn’t reach that level very often. But it does give him a lot of insight into the emotional states of different beings.”

“I’m surprised the brass aren’t training him up to be military intelligence,” Reyes commented as she steered them into the mess. “All our advancements, and we still don’t have a unbeatable lie detector. Someone who understands emotional responses to stress and subterfuge would be a huge asset for them.”

“Yeah.” Darrel smiled a bit smugly as they got into line for their food. Looked like…beige glop today. Mmm. Glop. The worst thing about living on a ship, after sucking at his job, was the food. Darrel was ready to kill for one of Grennson’s muffins. “They’re not allowed to use him that way. It’s part of the treaty with Perelan, and it carries a lot of penalties if they try to break it. Grennson is probably the most protected person at the Academy, in a way. He’s got two different governments looking out for him so that they can keep talking to each other. He doesn’t let it go to his head, though.”

“Sounds like a good guy.”

“He is.”

“You are too.”

Darrel was already starting to shake his head, but Reyes held up a hand as they sat down. “No, don’t let your issues at the helm start to creep into the rest of your head. You can be good at almost everything, and then the one sticking point in all your proficiencies ends up being enough to drag you down that spiral of shame. You’ve got to kick it in the butt before it gets that far.”

“How?” Darrel spooned up a bit of glop unexcitedly. “I’m awful at it.”

“Because you’re thinking too hard about it.” Reyes frowned. “They don’t tell you this at the Academy, of course, but the simulations there are slowed down by as much as fifty percent. The idea is that you get the actions down, then as you continue your education, they’re sped up to more normal speeds. And of course, you’re supposed to be able to practice on little ships before they stick you on a big bubba like his one. You were what, second year? Just starting?” Darren nodded. “Then it’s ridiculous to think you’d do any better than you are right now. I don’t care if you’re Parrish the Pilot’s kid or not. Your dad wasn’t born knowing how to fly a star ship, and neither were you. Neither was I! But everybody can learn.”

“But it’s—” Darren paused, trying to think of how to express his thought without sounding like a complete idiot. “It doesn’t feel that way. It feels like I should know, you know? That’s the vibe I got at the Academy too.”

“Fucking Academy bullshit and their ‘vibes.’” Reyes rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m not talking down about the Legacy program, I know it gets a lot of kids an education they might not get otherwise, but it also sets a lot of people up with incredibly unrealistic expectations. Your dad died when you were, what, under a year old? And people expect you to just pick up piloting like it’s nothing, like you’ve been studying it for decades like he did? It’s crap. But it’s not like they make it easier for you to do anything else, either. If I had to guess…” She looked at him narrowly. “I’d say…diplomatic track. The way you talk about your friend makes me think your interest is more than passing.”

“I’m doing a dual-track,” Darren admitted.

“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing.”

“It’s a distraction. Or so I’m told.”

“People suck.” Darrel coughed out a surprised laugh, and Reyes pointed her spork at him. “They do! It’s one of the few truisms I feel like I can really get behind. Space is full of surprises, the path of life never runs smooth, and people suck. Not all the time, thank goodness, but enough that most of the time I just wish I could fly the ship all by myself, if that makes any sense.”

“You might be able to. You’re fast at the helm.”

“Nah, I’d get tired after a few hours, but that’s nice to hear. Now. About your piloting. We’re gonna go to the sims together after lunch, and I’m going to use my badge to enter a program that will give you an accelerated practice regime. We’ve got a week and a half before we get to Pandora, and if you spend a few extra hours a day on the simulator, you should be able to get your reflexes up where they need to be by the time we arrive. Sound like a plan?”

“Why are you helping me?” Reyes looked hurt by the question, and Darrel moved fast to explain. “I’m really grateful that you are, but it’s like you said…people suck. And there’s a lot of competition here, a lot of cadets looking to distinguish themselves and get tabbed before they graduate, like you did. Nobody else has offered to help me with anything.”

“Have you offered in turn?”

Darrel felt himself start to flush. “No. I haven’t.”

“Well, it’s got to start somewhere. Your friend knows that. Take a screenshot from his data pad and give it a try, pay it forward. I’m sure someone out there would love to learn how to speak Perel but doesn’t feel bold enough to ask Grennson.” She winked. “Just a thought. Now, finish your delicious glop and lets get going before the simulators are all full.”

Reformation: Chapter Ten

 Notes: Ah, rush rush rush! But here is a new, and hopefully different, perspective for Reformation for you today. It's about time we got back to the boys, isn't it? I mean, the other boys.

Title: Reformation: Chapter Ten

***

Chapter Ten

Darrel felt like the klaxon that had sounded over the Academy campus half an hour ago was still ringing in his ears. Emergency declaration. Emergency declaration. Proceed to your towers for orders. Proceed to your towers for orders. It had been broadcast over their implants too, and the flashing red and yellow indicator in the corner of his vision would stay there until Darrel reported to his superior officer for duty. The thing was, he didn’t even know who his superior officer was supposed to be yet.

“This is a non-standard emergency mobilization,” Sergeant Bowers had explained to him and the rest of the cadets in Apollo Tower. “There are confirmed reports of a piracy attack on a planet in the Fringe, and the admiralty has decided to take this opportunity to improve the wartime capabilities of our student body.”

“But most of us haven’t even done a mock deployment before, sir,” Darrel had spoken up before he could talk himself out of it. He didn’t have to be Grennson to feel the apprehension rolling off his fellow cadets. This wasn’t just non-standard, it was unprecedented. Grennson couldn’t stop shifting on his feet, quills vibrating with little shudders that only Darrel was really close enough to see. “Is there something wrong with the fleet that’s already deployed out there?”

“Our navy has downsized dramatically in recent years, cadet, but regardless, this is an executive order. Kit up, and follow the directive sent through Hermes to get your personal mission plan.”

Well, that was a fucking non-answer if Darrel had ever heard one. He’d wanted to press the point, but Grennson’s discomfort and the sergeant’s obvious dismissal decided against it for him. Instead he took Grennson’s hand and radiated as much calm and comfort as he could when he wasn’t really feeling it himself, and led his friend back to their quad. Their currently empty quad.

“Where are Cody and Ten?” he muttered, looking around. He waited for his personal directive to start scrolling across his mental screen, but nothing came, just the indicator to wait, wait, wait.

“They’re not here.”

“I know they’re not, it’s annoying.” And a little disturbing. Darrel would never admit it out loud, but he always felt a little better when the four of them were together. More like they could handle anything that was thrown their way, instead of worrying about unsolvable science or a personal interaction that he wasn’t prepared to deal with.

“No, I mean they’re not here at all.”

Darrel turned and faced Grennson. “What, on campus?”

“No,” Grennson said breathlessly, like he couldn’t quite believe it. “On the planet.”

“What?” How could that be? Had they deployed early? Why hadn’t they send either of them a message to let them know? “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Grennson’s eyes were huge, and bright with an emotion Darrel didn’t want to see in his best friend. It looked suspiciously like fear. “I can’t feel them anymore. I could, for a while, but now they’re moving away and I can’t feel them!”

“Okay, c’mere.” He led Grennson over to the couch and pushed him to sit back on it, but Grennson wouldn’t let go of his hand.

“Stay with me,” he insisted, and Darrel couldn’t say no.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, all while sending out a ping for Cody and Ten. His implant echoed dully: no response evident. He checked his messages again, but there was still nothing. What the hell were the two of them doing, leaving the planet but not leaving a note?

An incoming call light flashed on the holo screen in the center of the living room. Darrel activated it instantly. “Hello?”

“Darrel?” The face that materialized in the vid was…Garrett Helms? Darrel felt himself relax a little. “Are you okay?”

“Grennson and I are fine. Do you know about the deployment?”

“I’ve heard about it, but I don’t have all the details yet. Is Cody there?”

Darrel’s tension ramped up so tight that he heard Grennson squeak in reaction next to him. “No,” he said slowly. “He and Ten are…I thought maybe they were with you? I haven’t seen either of them all morning.”

“No.” Garrett’s voice had lost all inflection. “They’re not with me. Do you have any idea where they could be?”

“Off planet,” Grennson whispered. Garrett’s eyes focused on him like a laser. “I felt them leave perhaps a quarter of an hour ago. I don’t know who they’re with, if not with you.”

“Ah.” That was it, just ah. “Give me a moment.” His face vanished from the screen, and Darrel and Grennson exchanged a blank look.

“What the hell?”

“If Garrett doesn’t know where they are, then they’ve—they’ve probably run away.”

“Why would they run away?” Darrel demanded. “Neither of them is afraid of something like a deployment. At the worst it would be an inconvenience for Ten, but Cody wouldn’t just…abandon his responsibilities like this.” He wouldn’t abandon us.

“I don’t think it’s about avoiding conflict,” Grennson said slowly, like he was still working it out in his head. “I think it might be about—approaching it from a different direction. Do you know where the pirates are attacking?”

“They haven’t announced it yet.” Darrel felt his heart stutter a little in his chest. “Do you think…”

“I think we’re going to Pandora.”

“Then why wouldn’t they want to go?” Darrel exploded. “You wouldn’t be able to keep Cody away from Pandora if it’s under attack, not with his dad there right now. It doesn’t make any sense!”

“I know.” Grennson’s voice was quiet. “Which makes you wonder, doesn’t it? What would pull them away from the opportunity to travel to Pandora and be part of its protection, without giving them black marks on their Academy records? What would make them leave without telling us? Why would they have to be so secret? Why wouldn’t they even contact Garrett?” He gestured toward the frozen holoscreen. “Cody has never been careless of his fathers’ feelings. Garrett is greatly distraught.”

“How can you even tell that?”

“It’s very clear to an empath.”

The holoscreen flared to life again before Darrel could reply. “Stay in your quad for the time being,” Garrett said without ceremony. “You’re going to be personally escorted to your individual deployments.”

“How do you know that?” Garrett wasn’t a part of the Academy’s administration, he shouldn’t be able to know these things. He just shook his head.

“Will we be together?” Grennson asked.

That got the first fresh hint of emotion from Garrett since they told him Cody and Ten weren’t around. He smiled, and now Darrel could see what Grennson must have been sensing all along: it was the most fragile, careful smile he had ever seen. “Yes, you’ll be together. I promise.”

Grennson exhaled heavily. “Thank you, Garrett.”

“It’s the least I can do. Take care of each other, all right?”

“What about Cody and Ten?” Darrel pressed.

Garrett shook his head. “Try not to worry about them. They’re all right.” For now, the subtext screamed. Garrett ended the connection before Darrel could ask any more questions.

He looked at Grennson, who seemed calmer now. “I still don’t understand.”

“It’s okay.” Grennson reached out and patted his head, the same way Darrel would stroke Grennson’s quills when he needed to be soothed. “I don’t think anyone does.”

Five minutes later, a knock sounded at their door. Darrel dashed over to answer it, Grennson at his heels. He opened the door—

And immediately brought his hand up into a salute. “General, sir!” Holy shit, what was General Caractacus doing outside their quad? What was he doing in active uniform at all? Darrel didn’t know him well, but the man was Cody’s grandfather, and a war hero. He’d retired years ago, though.

“Gentlemen.” The general looked between Darrel and Grennson, who had crept up beside him. “At ease. You two are under my personal command until further notice.” Sure enough, Darrel’s notification icon had stopped blinking. “I was here anyway, and I thought I would escort you to my ship.”

“We…um…we should be escorting you, not the other way around,” Darrel insisted. “You’re the general.”

“Call it whatever you like, but we’re on a schedule. Are your kits ready to go?”

“Yes,” Grennson said. They’d made sure they had their emergency kits prepped after getting off the holo with Garrett.

“Grab them and fall in. I’ll explain more once we’re on board the Masterful.”

Grennson looked around curiously. “Where is the rest of your entourage, sir?”

“They’d better be busting their asses getting our ship ready,” the general replied with a hint of humor. Darrel hoisted up their duffel bags and returned to the door. The air still smelled a little acrid with the scent of Ten’s last failed experiment. Darrel had never thought he’d miss something like that, but the prospect of leaving it behind had him nervous all of a sudden. What were they walking into? What had happened to their friends?

Grennson placed a steadying hand on Darrel’s elbow. “We’re ready, sir.”

And they were still together. Darrel’s unease steadied a bit. They were together, and wherever they were, so were Cody and Ten. He was grateful for that.

He just hoped things stayed this way.

Reformation: Chapter One

Notes: Cody! Ten! Darrel! Grennson! Now we're cooking :)


Title: Reformation, Chapter One

***

Chapter One

 

Cody woke up to the acrid smell of something that probably wasn’t supposed to be able to catch on fire bursting into flame. A second later the fire alarm began to sound. It said something about Cody’s adaptability over the past year that all he did was grab Ten’s abandoned pillow and press it over his face.

“It’s fine, everything is fine, I’ve got a handle on it!”

“It’s too early for this,” Cody mumbled. There was no way Ten had heard him over the sound of the alarm, but there was also very little chance ze’d care about waking Cody up, under the circumstances. After all, “sacrifices have to be made for science, if it was easy any idiot could do it!” was Ten’s motto.

Their door banged open. “What the hell, Ten?” Ah, Darrel was up.

“Oh, go back to bed, I’ve got this under control.”

“You think anyone on our entire floor can sleep through the noise? I thought you had official lab space this year!”

“Yes, one tiny cubicle of a lab surrounded by people who have no idea of the concept of privacy and keep interrupting my work. Like I can get anything important done there.”

“They sound a lot like your kind of people, actually.” Darrel raised his voice. “I swear, Ten, if you don’t shut this noise off, I’m going to—” Whatever he was going to do was drowned out by the sudden whistling fizz of a fire suppression system going off.

A second later the alarm shut off. Nobody said anything, which was weird enough that Cody poked his head out from under the pillow and took a peek.

Ten’s recessed lab space—a reclaimed section of closet that ze’d convinced Cody neither of them needed—was coated from top to bottom in the neon orange foam that the suppression system in the ceiling had let loose with. Unfortunately, both Ten and Darrel had been in the path of it, and were covered from the tops of their heads to the center of their chests in the same foam.

“So,” Ten said a moment later. “Try not to ingest the foam, it’s toxic.”

“Ten­—”

“What? So I started a little fire, so what? It’s out now, no harm done, and I’ve learned some very interesting things about the properties of this particular formula.”

“Such as?” Darrel asked acidly.

“Such as its volatility is more easily expressed than my initial hypothesis suggested, and while it has a lot of redeeming factors statistically speaking, I’m not comfortable potentially injecting my cell lines with a substance that might set them on fire, much less an actual person.” Ten sniffed. “See? This is me being careful, take note of that.”

“I’ll take note of the fact that we’re supposed to be in class in hirty minutes and you just set all of us back thanks to your little science experiment.”

“Little? It’s not little, it’s huge, this could change the entire field of medicine and also, testy much? Honestly, what’s made you so angry this week?” Ten’s tone turned speculative. “Could it have something to do with the fact that you’re sleep deprived due to taking almost double the normal course load thanks to splitting your time between command and linguist tracks? Which is a stupid thing to do, by the way. Any moron could see that you’re much better suited for the linguist track.”

“You’re taking more than double the normal course load. You have no room to criticize me.”

“I’m a genius insomniac egomaniac, I can handle all those classes and get through the tests and practicals with my eyes closed.” Ten sounded frustrated, and Cody knew why. This was hir way of trying to be supportive, as incredible as that seemed, but Darrel had refused to be comforted by anyone since they got back from Perelan, even Grennson. He’d had a meeting with his mother and grandparents, and in the space of an hour they’d said something to him that had affected him, badly enough that he’d added the command track classes. They were all curious about what had happened, and why, but the only person likely to get the truth out of Darrel anytime soon was Grennson. That didn’t mean Ten wouldn’t stop trying, though, so Cody sighed and sat up in the interest of heading off a fight.

“We have to leave soon. You guys should shower.”

Darrel rolled his eyes, turned and stalked out of their room. Now that the scent of burning had mostly been carried away by the ventilation system, Cody could smell the savory spice of Grennson’s muffins in the kitchen. Those were definitely worth getting up for.

He and Ten stared at each other for a moment, silent and assessing. Ten looked wary, and slightly haughty, even covered in orange foam. They’d already had an argument about Ten’s extra projects since getting back, Ten unusually adamant about pursuing the one ze’d set up in their room. Cody wasn’t interested in bringing it up again. “You can autoclave that, right?” he asked, pointing at the tiny lab space.

“Of course I can.” It was subtle, but he could hear the relief in Ten’s voice. Funny—Cody was the one who usually went out of his way to avoid confrontation. This project was keeping Ten strangely on edge, though. “And I totally will, I have nanotech embedded in the walls and it’ll shunt everything outside of the beakers into the tower’s waste system.” The fact that the four of them were together again this year, somehow wrangling a quad on the bottom floor of Apollo Tower, was nothing short of a miracle. Cody sensed the guiding hand of Admiral Liang in the arrangement, but he wasn’t about to question it too hard.

“Okay.”

“That’s really all you have to say about this?”

“Why, do you want me to scold you?” Cody raised an eyebrow and grinned suggestively. “’Cause I can do that, but I really didn’t think you were into that sort of thing.”

“I’m not much into the concept of foreplay, but verbal stimulation could be something we should try to incorporate into our sex in the interest of covering all potential avenues of getting off.”

“So sexy,” Cody deadpanned. “Oh baby, tell me more about the techniques we need to incorporate into the satisfaction of our biological and emotional urges, it’s such a turn on.”

Ten blinked. “If I weren’t covered in foam I’d jump you right now.”

“The fact that you’re not doing it is evidence that you’re crazy in love with me.”

Ten grinned. “True.” Ze grabbed a change of clothes off hir bed—it had become their unofficial extra storage space since losing the closet and deciding they’d rather sleep together anyway—and headed into the bathroom. Cody got up, pulled on fresh clothes and headed straight out into the common room. Their tiny kitchenette was on the right, and Grennson was just pulling fluffy muffins out of their antique oven. Not many people knew how to use the old technology when it came to baking, but Grennson was a purist about his food, even the stuff that wasn’t Perel in origin.

“Hey.” Cody came up beside him and inhaled deeply. “Those smell amazing.”

“Thank you. They are my father Jason’s recipe.”

“I know.”

“He would occasionally long for human food during his time on Perelan, and Ferran learned how to make all of his favorites for when Jason was too busy to do it himself.” Grennson continued like Cody hadn’t spoken at all. “I learned the same. These should be eaten with butter.”

“Yeah, I know—”

“I will get it.”

“Grennson.” Cody reached out and caught his friend’s milky-pale hand, squeezing gently. Grennson froze, his quills quivering with pent-up emotion. “What’s wrong?”

“I feel…unsettled.”

“Like homesick?” They’d just left Perelan a few weeks ago, after all. Cody would understand if Grennson was unhappy with the separation. They’d managed a brief rendezvous with Jonah on the way back, with Cody’s dad on a supply run to Pandora, but Jason and Ferran had been recalled to Perelan immediately after dropping them off at the Academy. Grennson was an empath, sensitive to the people around him, and especially his family.

To Cody’s surprise, he shook his head. “This is more generalized. More pervasive. Something is different about the Academy this year, Cody. There is a sense of expectation in our instructors, something that isn’t necessarily good. It feels like people are bracing themselves, but they don’t know what for.”

“Do you think it has to do with the election?” The Federation’s five-year election was being held this term, and every media outlet was already blistering with attacks on every candidate. Ads were being run for politicians not even from this planet—it didn’t make any sense to Cody. Pandora was a small colony, and elections had been simple, fast and never contested. Seeing the circus the Central System made of them was exhausting.

“Possibly,” Grennson allowed. “I know little of such politics. Perelan’s matriarchies are inherited positions.”

“Even those don’t always go uncontested, though.” Grennson’s own adopted father was proof of that. Ferran was officially his mother Grenn’s heir, even though he was biologically male. He would be the first male House ruler in tens of thousands of years.

“No, but they aren’t so pervasive, either.” Grennson shrugged, a human quirk he’d picked up over the years. “I hope that’s all it is. I can bear it either way.”

“Good. If you need help, let me know.” Cody cast a hopeful look at the muffins. “Can I have one of those now?”

“Of course.”

Bad feelings or no, crazy science experiments and packed schedules or not, Cody was excited for the new year. He had his friends with him, his family was healthy and happy, and he had recovered really well from the environmental challenges of Perelan. As far as he was concerned, everything was off to a perfect start.

Last year’s awfulness had been an anomaly. This year was going to be better. How could it not be?

The Academy Post #13

Notes:  I keep intending to get to the meat of the plot, and then everyone keeps wanting to socialize and interact.  Damn it, it’s just so easy to write conversation with these people.  Next time, I swear, we’ll start moving things along.  For now, enjoy the fireworks!

Title: The Academy

Part Thirteen:  Low Blow

***

                To say that their club got off to an inauspicious beginning would be a bit like saying, “Drifters make people nervous.”  It was the truth, but it was only one, bland facet of the bigger issue, which was that some people were fundamentally incompatible.  Couple that with unreasonable as well, and you had the start of Grennson’s culture club.

                Actually, no, the very start of it was okay.  Darrel requisitioned a few more chairs and expanded their table to fit eight, Grennson made lhosa tea, Cody cleaned up the kitchen and Ten actually brought someone with hir, which was honestly more than Cody expected.

                “Bartholomew, this is everyone.  Everyone, Bartholomew Applegate.  Yes, he’s a Friend, no Grennson, that’s not what you think it is, yes he’s here to preach about where he comes from but no, he promises not to try and convert you,” Ten said after dragging the husky boy into the quad behind hir.  “Now we’ve got what, ten minutes before this is supposed to start?  Come with me, I want to talk to you about gene bundling.”

                “Ten, you can’t take him away now!” Cody protested.  “We didn’t even get to introduce ourselves.”

                “I introduced you more efficiently, he already knows your names,” Ten said.

                “That doesn’t even count.”

                “How would you know what counts?  You grew up on the Fringe.”

                Bartholomew looked uncomfortable but Cody didn’t even blink at the rudeness.  “Yeah, and my grandfather was the Federation-appointed governor of an entire planet out there, so trust me when I say I’m cultured enough to know when you’re being impolite.  Hi.”  Cody held out his hand.  “I’m Cody Helms.”

                “It’s pleasant to make your acquaintance,” Bartholomew replied. 

                “Oh, good grief.”  Ten rolled hir eyes.  “Hurry up.”

                Grennson and Darrel actually got as far as giving Bartholomew their names in person before Ten managed to whisk him off to the bedroom, where hir computer modeling systems were running at full capacity.  Cody watched them disappear and tried not to feel relieved.  Maybe if he had time to ease everyone into meeting his guest, things would go better.

                Pamela was the next person to show, and she was relentlessly cheerful.  “Good morning!” she said as Grennson brought her in.  “I brought muffins.” 

                “You didn’t have to bring food,” Grennson said fondly, taking the food and setting it on the counter.  Darrel gave him a sharp look but didn’t say anything.

                “I like to bake.  Strong enough smells obscure my telepathic ability; did you know our sense of smells are very strongly correlated to our memories?  When I bake, all I think about is learning to bake with my mother.”

                “You’re a telepath?” Darrel asked, his caramel skin paling slightly.

                “Oh, yes!”  She came over and sat down next to him, and smiled understandingly.  “But it’s very hard to get more than blurry surface thoughts, and I’m doing my best not to read any of you right now.  I don’t want to violate your privacy, trust me.”

                Well, that was…sort of reassuring, but not very.  Cody did his best to think about anything other than himself: the muffins, which smelled delicious, Ten being hirself and just taking someone back into their room without bothering to ask Cody if it was all right, the taste of Grennson’s tea, the sound of the door chime…

                “I’ll get it,” Darrel said before Cody could stop him, and he headed for the door with a little smile on his face.  Apparently he liked who he’d invited along.

                The smile fell away when Darrel found not one, but two people waiting in the hall.  “Hi Dare,” the girl said.  “I saw Kyle on the way over and he told me he was heading here too.  Pretty convenient.”  She paused, then asked, “So can we come in?”

                “Yes,” Darrel said, but he didn’t move.  “Yeah, but…”

                “I invited him,” Cody said, trying desperately to keep from blushing.  Of course, now that he was thinking about it he knew he was turning red, fuck.  Well, at least being embarrassed would keep him from thinking about other things.

                Darrel looked at Cody incredulously.  “You did?”

                “What’s the problem?” the girl asked.  “And could you not just leave us standing in the hall while you talk about us?”

                Grennson moved forward to play host.  “Please come in.”  He offered a human-style handshake to both of them.  “I’m Grennson Kim.  Thank you for your interest in this.”

                “Xenia Mohr,” the girl said.  “Thanks for keeping me out of seminar, I hate it when lecturers get mushy.”

                “You must be studying a harder science.”

                “Yeah.  Micro-quantum.”

                “I know nothing about it, you’ll have to explain it to me when we have a moment,” Grennson said, then turned to Kyle before Xenia could get started. 

                “Thank you for having me.  I’m Kyle Alexander,” he said with a smooth smile.

“Why are my quad mates trepidatious about having you here, Kyle?”

“I assume it’s because Cody didn’t tell you I was coming.”  He glanced at Cody and winked, and Cody felt his stomach do that stupid tightening thing again.  Good thing he was already blushing.

“He’s Valero’s sponsor,” Darrel added, finally emerging from his stupor and shutting the door.  “He’s the captain of the paraball team, too.”

“Oh.  Oh,” Grennson said, understanding suffusing his voice.

“In Cody’s defense, he didn’t know who I was when he asked me to come,” Kyle continued, and okay, that was enough of that.

“It doesn’t matter,” Cody said firmly.  “You didn’t have anything to do with the Valero thing, and you’re a great racer and you come from the most politically-important planet in the entire Federation.  I’m not sorry I invited you.  Thanks for coming.”

 “You have the shiniest mind I’ve ever felt,” Pamela marveled.  “It’s like glass, all I can see in you is a reflection of myself.  But then, I guess you would be like this, since your brother is the President.”

“I was learning to repulse telepathic intrusions by the time I was four,” Kyle replied easily.  “Don’t take it personally, it’s such a reflex at this point that I doubt I could let you in if I tried.”

                Grennson looked intrigued.  “Do you mind if I try?  I’d love to see if your training shields against empaths as well.”

                “Feel free,” Kyle said.  “Is it easier if you’re touching me?”

                “I should be able to get an understanding from here.”  Grennson’s quills fluttered a bit as he focused on Kyle.  A minute later he exhaled noisily.  “Pamela is right.  It’s like a…it’s like looking into a pool of water.  I can sense that there are things below the surface, but all I can see is myself.  How wonderful.”

                “I’m glad you think so,” Kyle said, and Xenia went after a muffin and for a moment Cody dared to hope that this would all turn out okay.

                Then Ten came back in, Bartholomew trailing behind.  “Hey, who brought the—what?”  Ze looked astonished, which quickly morphed into fury.  “What are you doing here?”

                “Ah, answering questions?” Kyle said with a disarming smile.  It didn’t do anything for Ten, whose hands were flexing like ze had claws at the tips, eager to disembowel someone.

                “What idiot invited you?”

                “That would be me,” Cody said with a wince.  Ten didn’t disappoint.

                “Why?  Why would you invite the sponsor of the girl who was verbally abusive to you, who smashed up our quad and used Darrel like a door scanner and broke a table with me?”

                “I’m not proud of what Valero did, and she’s paying for it already,” Kyle said.  Ten rounded on him furiously.

                “You can shut up, I’m not talking to you right now.  Cody, seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

                It took Cody a long time to get angry, but when he did it tended to come on fast and hard.  He stood up, walked over to Ten and said, “Get in here,” then headed into their room.

After a moment Ten followed, and just before ze slammed the door shut Cody heard someone say, “Ooh, lover’s quarrel?”

Cody rounded on Ten as soon as the door was shut.  “You need to stop it.”

“Stop what?” Ten demanded.  “Stop trying to protect you from assholes who would as soon spit on you as look at you if they knew the truth?  Stop trying to learn everything I can about you so that I can fix you?  Stop trying to be—”

“Okay, right there, that’s the perfect example,” Cody interrupted.  “You say you’re trying to fix me.  Here’s the thing: I’m not broken.  I’m not like almost everyone else, but that doesn’t make me a, a toy that you have to fix in order to be worth anything.”

“I don’t—”

“I know you don’t see it that way, but that’s what it sounds like, Ten.  And you’ve got to let the thing with Valero go.  Kyle is a nice person—”

“How would you know?  You don’t have any classes with him, he’s a senior cadet!  Where did you even—oh, the track, it had to be the track, that’s the only thing you’ve done apart from class and studying that I haven’t been there for.”  Ten scowled.  “And what, you saw him and decided ‘Oh, this pretty person looks like he’d be a lovely addition to our dumb little club!’  How is one meeting enough to feel comfortable bringing him here?”  Ten’s eyes narrowed.  “Do you want to sleep with him?  Are you two fucking?”

“Would you listen to yourself?” Cody demanded.  “Now you’re just making shit up!  Yes, I met him at the track, where he was the only person around who was available to race, and yes, he was good at it, and yeah, he’s pretty too, but no, I’m not sleeping with him.  The only place I’ve been sleeping is here, which you’d know if you ever bothered to come back from the lab and spend any time in your own quad, which you haven’t for the past week because you’ve got a new fucking puzzle you want to solve.”  Cody held up a hand before Ten could interject. 

“And I’m grateful, okay, I’m really fucking grateful that you want to figure me out because I’d love to be normal like everyone else, I don’t want to die before everyone else in my family, but people have been working on this problem for generations, Ten.  And you’re a genius, you’re brilliant and I know you’ll make progress on whatever you set your mind to, but I’d rather you be my friend first and my savior after.  I miss you.”

Ten looked dumbfounded.  “Shut the fuck up.”

“No, you shut up, I’m being serious.  I slept awfully last night, I’ve got a headache from worrying about this exact thing happening today, Grennson went and brought a telepath here which has me worrying even more, and I really wish you’d give Kyle a chance.  Because when you’re not happy I’m miserable, and you’re making me miserable right now.”

Ten sat down on hir bed.  “This is emotional manipulation,” ze said, but it was quiet, not angry.

“This is truth,” Cody said, sitting down next to hir.  “It’s the same thing sometimes, but right now it’s mostly just truth.  I know you’re upset, and I’m sorry about that.  But I can’t bend over to make everyone happy all the time, Ten.”

“You could probably make Kyle Alexander very happy by bending over,” Ten snapped, but there was no heat in it.  “Almost everyone in this stupid Academy would love to bend over for that man, including most of the instructors.  You know his brother is the president of the entire Federation, don’t you?  Kyle’s even more of a social catch than Grennson.”

“I didn’t know who he was when I asked him to come,” Cody admitted.  “I’m actually kind of surprised he said yes, to be honest.”

“Probably for Grennson’s sake,” Ten said.

“Thanks.”

“Not that you’re not interesting too,” Ten added.  “For your own sake, I mean.  You are, you’re…great.”

“I feel damned with faint praise,” Cody teased, but Ten looked serious.

“No, I mean it.  You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met in my life, and that should make me want to walk all over you, but somehow it doesn’t.  You’re not a sycophant, you’re not a shy little moose, you’re just…you.  I liked you from the moment I met you, and that never happens to me.”

“Thanks.”  They sat in silence for a moment before Cody asked, “What’s a moose?”

“It’s a tiny little Earth animal.”

“Are you talking about a mouse, maybe?”

Ten furrowed hir brow.  “Maybe.  I don’t know, it’s just an old expression.”

“Huh.  I like it both ways.  Now, can we go join everyone else?  And be nice?  Please?”

“Don’t beg, it makes you sound weak,” Ten said, but ze stood up and smoothed down hir coat.  “I’ll go.  I can’t promise to be nice, but I won’t deliberately taunt him, either.”

“That’s all I ask,” Cody said.