Scribbles and Drabbles

Notebook Drabble 35

A den of opportunities and dark ends festered in the colony on the moon of Dubhe's largest gas giant. It was a hellhole of a mining colony with the kind of men who got kicked off their own dirt and soil and got left to float in the black until a corporation with a hunger for desperate men, cheap men, netted them up. The war was the latest event that left men floating in the black, waiting to be caught up. The explosion at Megrez was close enough to have plenty of refugees with varying levels of resources. In the madness and chaos, Torben's luck remained the same. Bad with a dash of excellent timing. 

Case in point, he didn't have a job, but he managed to grab a spot in the boarding house. They didn't care if he had a contract; they cared if he could pay. 

The ships flew in and out in a loosely controlled pattern that faltered when a ship on its last legs collapsed.  The boarding house opened for the night soon, and Torben sat in the shadows waiting. Plenty of others slumped around him, most a good deal older than him and almost all with a grey complexion of defeat.  

He shifted his scarf more over his face. The fumes promised an early grave if the slave contracts didn't do it.

A familiar uniform appeared in the fog and marched straight to Torben. Silver accents with a purple insignia that promised death to anyone who crossed it. Torben eyed the man up; the sword wore his own mask with a filter rather than fabric. 

He saluted loosely. 

The man yanked him up and dragged him forward. No one stopped him. Why would they interfere in a place like this? Torben didn't fight either. Getting trapped on Kodak's ship would be foolish, yet the idea of pulling out of his rival's grip was laughable at best. Kodak slowed as Torben almost fell and moved at a more sensible, least frantic pace, but there was no mistaking the frogmarching air of the pace.

Had Kodak noticed his lack of words?

Kodak's muttered dark things under his breath. His rival was in a mood. Finally, they reached Kodak's little runner ship. It was small, meant for travelling between the ship in orbit and whatever port they'd docked at. It was easier and cheaper to run than docking the main ship, and the corporations preferred them to ship taking up their space in the docking ring. Being pressed in reminded Torben of being underground, the close tightness and slight humidity as Kodak pressed in after him in the tight space. 

"Torben," Kodak hummed, leaning closer. Heat engulfed Torben's side, and his chest fluttered as Kodak knocked their forehead's together in too intimate a manner for mere friends - they were not friends. Rivals didn't suit now either. What were they? "I missed you at Denebola. You gave your word that you'd be there." 

How did he answer that? 

He leaned against Kodak's warmth and found the man's hand in the darkness. Kodak hadn't bothered to turn the lights on - Kodak had night vision implants. Torben pulled it to his throat and let Kodak trace the bandages around it. The man hissed.

Kodak turned the light on, blinding Torben as Kodak pushed his chin up and studied his neck. The bandages were more a formality now, the wound was healed, and the scar shone a fresh pink. Torben's skin tingled as Kodak's fingertips drifted over it, and his stomach tightened as Kodak rumbled. The sound resonated through Torben's chest, and he flinched as the panel behind his back disappeared. 

"I take my eyes off you for one moment," Kodak said, pressing them out of the airlock and into the tiny cabin. Torben sat on the table surface as Kodak dug out his medical scanner and let Kodak confirm what the doctors warned Torben already. His vocal cords were shot. "You can't talk."

No, not especially.

Kodak cursed some creative words even for him before dropping the scanner in a loud slatter and hugging Torben close. Torben held him back, burying his face into Kodak's shoulder and enjoying the firm, safe hold.

"I'm never letting you out of my sight again," Kodak threatened.

The question was: to be a good soldier or a bad friend? Could he be a bad soldier with his fraction officially disbanded? Torben shoved that feeling away. The question became more relevant with his neck. Kodak's commanding officer inflicted the wound, admittedly in a berserker rage, but that meant little to his crippled vocal codes. He settled further into the hug, trying not to shake as the comfort soaked into his bones. Kodak made a good rival, a good ally. 

What could Torben do? With his fraction disbanded, his options were to find a new team to run with or turn straight. He couldn't join Kodak's fraction, if he'd wanted to with the damage to his neck. 

It took a few minutes but Kodak loosened his hold and pulled back to bump their foreheads together again. "You are staying with me," Kodak declared, anger simmering in his voice. "You sold your ship, and I ain't letting you try to go straight here. You'll fold in less than a week or end up in a slave contract. I know you."

It was possible. Torben had narrowly avoided that a few times already. It was a waiting game until he failed to notice something in the fine print or, worse, didn't care. TOo many corporations had life contacts or hours not worth the coin in their pocket. Bee didn't have enough to run his own ship, but it was clear that his pace would ruin him if he didn't get out fast.

Torben nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't have to be part of that man's fraction to stay with Kodak and his group. They didn't have exclusive contracts. Not that his consent would matter to Kodak much. The skulls didn't ask; they commanded. They took what was theirs and damned anyone else who got in their way - innocent or not. 

"I need to make port in Hota and collect Linx and Zaf. Tomo and Gin are about looking for suppliers. Gin will want a close inspection of your injuries. Do we need to call Orion?"

If Torben knew where Orion was, possibly. They'd got lost in the breakup. Or rather, Orion wanted Torben to come with him to the central planets. Torben stormed off, forgetting that with the company disbanded, he could not contact his adoptive father once he cooled down. He didn't know how to contact any of his family. 

Kodak waited for the answer.

He made the symbol for a disbandment. Kodak's eyes narrowed. "Orion left you behind?"

No, Torben ran off - big difference. 

"Mine, now," Kodak swore passionately, kissing Torben. "Part of my cohort, clan brother or not. I will not let you fade into the black."

Torben wasn't; he wouldn't fade that easily. Sure, things were bad, and he'd lost his entire social, job and support structure alongside his voice and hip, but he could be worse off - probably.