#sci ships

[scimagic]

Sigh..... Chat I may have fallen line, hook and sinker into the ship.

LISTEN AFTER WATCHING THE MOVIE WITH THE HOMIES WE ALL KINDA FELL IN LOVE WITH THE CRACKSHIP FHDSKA NOT SO MUCH A CRACKSHIP ANYMORE THOUGH IS IT!!

And of course I had the epiphany that Mr. Puzzles MIGHT have a type.

That type being Fish.

[frozenjaegert]

I’m attempting to move primarily to tumblr for my art (we’ll see). starting off by posting some sulemio! 🍅

[axiseart]

Sailing

[stevieschrodinger]

Eddie cries out in pain, “ah shitting fuck!” he yells across the bay, reflexively pushing off with a booted foot so his stool rolls away from the danger, his hurt fingers shoved unceremoniously in his mouth to nurse away the sting.

“Whatsit?” Robin sits up in her bunk, fluff of hair sticking up at all angles.

“Nothing. Nothing, sorry, fucking thing shocked me, go back to sleep.”

“Timesit?”

“I dunno,” Eddie looks around vaguely, looking across the untidy bank of tools and control panels he squints at the nearest monitor, “one ish.”

Robin humphs. Rubs at her eyes. Then just, sits for a bit, staring at nothing. “Want a hot drink?” She ends up volunteering, sticking her bare legs out from under the covers and sliding out from her bunk. She pulls on her dungarees from where they were abandoned on the floor.

“You ask me that like we have options,” Eddie peers down at his latest project, sliding a viewer over his mask to get a closer look. The numbers flashing in the peripheral vision make absolutely no fucking sense whatsoever.

Robin yawns, forcing her feet into her boots, the laces loose and scraggly, “sounds better than ‘would you like caffeine reconstituted from the caffeine you pissed out yesterday’, though, right?” It’s a much trodden route, this conversation, one they have most days. It’s familiar, comforting. Shores them up for the long journey. Eddie hums but doesn’t answer, “where’s Chris?”

“Cockpit, said something about checking The Belt again.”

Robin mumbles something about Chrissy’s constant paranoia when it comes to crossing The Belt, but leaves to get them their drinks. Eddie gets it though, they all have their things. Their little routines, their charms, their talismans their...things. Things that get them through. The asteroid belt doesn’t change unless someone changes it, all those little rocks floating around on their reliable courses until...something nudges one. It’s a domino effect then, and crossing the belt is hazardous enough without outside forces fucking it up.

It wasn’t a problem until Mars, the catastrophic failure of the Synthetics, and the war that humanity very squarely lost. There had been laws before, the mining companies who were scalping the belt had a million feet of red tape to get through to make sure they weren't affecting shipping lanes and yada yada yada.

Now. The Synths do whatever the fuck they like, and it’s not like they're ever going to inform humanity of where they’re drilling.

So, Eddie tinkers, Chrissy checks the belt, and Robin bitches at both of them.

“So...what do you think he is?” Robin swivels around uselessly in the chair next to him.

“Sex bot, definitely.”

Robin snorts a laugh, “got a big dick huh?”

“He is very...anatomically correct,” Eddie closes the hatch, tugs carefully at the synths hair until he finds the next panel along, unhitches it with his home brew magnet arrangement. Not how you’re supposed to do it, but Synth construction companies don’t exactly share their tech.

“You sure it’s okay? Bringing him on board?”

Eddie hums vaguely, “no idea what model he is exactly, but the wreckage was old Robs. Pre One old, plus the Mars Synths never go further than the belt, they don’t have a reason to. Depending on how long he’s been floating about...I mean it’s unlikely, is what I’m saying.”

Eddie tries a different connection, moving carefully, the work very fine and delicate, he follows the numbers on his display. The connection slithers tight when it catches, and there’s the very, very slightest hum of a power up. In the corner of Eddie’s vision, the numbers all flash green.

On the table, the Synths eyes open. The iris goes from large to small, pupils go from wide and black to a pinprick, before it relaxes to something resembling normal. Hazel iris’, Eddie can’t help but notice, strange color, for a Synth, not one Eddie’s ever seen before. Green speckled with brown and gold. Really pretty, and far more detail than Eddie’s ever seen in one of these before. Especially for a sex bot model, if that’s what he is.

The Synth blinks four times in quick succession, indicating a hard reboot, his iris’ are now white with a fine blue ring, the beautiful hazel gone.

The eyes close, and the numbers go all haywire. Flashing yellow and red. Eddie watches as the numbers tell him the Synth has powered off again.

“Did it work?” Robin peers over his shoulder.

“No,” Eddie rolls over to his work station, goes over the scans again, “but I don’t know why. He definitely booted that time, but there’s damage that either I can’t find or...it’s too complex for me. It’s hitting a step and then won’t go any further.”

“So it’s software right? Not hardware?”

“Yeah. Pretty sure you’re right. There’s something there, some...thing that keeps failing the boot. Something in memory maybe. I just,” Eddie sighs a little helplessly, “I dunno, you know?”

“Can’t you switch it off?”

Eddie scoffs, “what, his memory?”

“Yeah? I mean, if he’s a house bot, he’ll forget how to change a diaper and make a Martini, if he’s a worker he’ll forget how to fucking,” she gestures helplessly, “wire in lights, or whatever the fuck they have them doing. Plowing fields, I don’t know. And if he’s a sex bot, he’ll forget about the twenty thousand vaginas he’s probably licked. Does it matter?”

“I...I could try it.” Eddie frowns, thinking it through, “I mean, the base programming is unavoidable, it’ll apply no matter what but...I don’t know exactly how that’ll leave him.”

She shrugs, “then just, turn him off, if the basics are there then the kill switch is there, right? The laws?”

“Yeah, that stuffs hardwired, there’s no bypassing it. Well,” Eddie gestures vaguely, “except for One.”

Robin nods, “except for One.” She agrees.

They both sit quietly for a moment, contemplating the disaster on Mars. The loss of life, even though it happened before either of them were born, it’s left a stark shadow on all of society. All of history.

Eddie slaps his thighs decisively, breaking their reverie, “I’m going to try it.”

Eddie gets his tools.

“We’re probably meeting him for the first time,” Robin tells Chrissy, as Chrissy fixes her hair for her, “we should make a good impression.”

“I don’t think they have opinions babe,” Chrissy tells her gently, licking her thumb and then using it to rub a scuff off Robins cheek.

“You can’t know that for sure. I bet they judge us. Silently. Plus I’ve never met one before, I’ve seen them working loads, you know, on Earth, but I’ve never...spoken to one. Not properly.”

“My parents had a house model, when I was little,” Chrissy volunteers, “she was really nice. Mostly she did all the chores and meals and stuff. Ordered the groceries. She was so good at Mahjong.”

“Huh. Do you think this guy will play Rummy with us? It’s better with four.”

“You’re cute,” Chrissy tells her, before kissing the tip of her nose, “should we have a countdown?” She asks, turning her attention to Eddie.

“Only if you’re willing to do it more than once if this doesn’t work?”

Chrissy wrinkles her nose, “probably not?”

Eddie shrugs, flips his visor screen down, and hopes for the best.

The Synths eyes whirl, that same, beautiful, sparkling hazel. Four quick blinks, and by the end, the iris has cleared to white, highlighted by the same stark blue ring.

The Synth sits up, the sheet Eddie had been using, partly so he wasn't staring at the things dick, and partly to keep it clean, falls and pools around the Synths middle.

There are another set of blinks. Then another. A jerky motion passes through the Synths body; every joint twitching, the head whipping side to side suddenly, sharp movements that look like a full body seizure. And then the whole thing happens again in reverse, from the toes up. The table rattles and shakes.

“The fuck was that,” Robin asks quietly in the ensuing, oppressive, silence.

“Movement test...I’ve never actually seen it before. It’s checking every system right now, might take a couple of minutes.”

“He’s got good hair,” Chrissy volunteers.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees absently, “but if you’re designing a person, why not make them prefect, right?”

The Synths skin had been pale alabaster white, but a wave of color moves up his body now, a tanned skin tone with some color in his cheeks. Other than sitting absolutely, completely still, it looks human. Looks normal.

It even has a couple of moles dotted about, which is a nice design choice, Eddie thinks. It’s high on the details; meaning it’s a high end Synth.

This guy was most certainly not plowing fields.

You wouldn’t be able to tell he wasn’t human, apart from the eyes, unless you really knew what you were looking for. The hair follicles often give them away, if you can get close enough to inspect them; not with this dude.

The Synth blinks four times. Another four. Another four. It keeps doing it, otherwise completely unmoving.

“Now what?”

“It’s waiting for instruction,” Eddie moves closer, “uhm. Edward Munson. I am your new owner, Edward Munson?” The Synth doesn’t respond, and Eddie scrambles for his data pad, “the instruction varies by manufacturer, I am your new handler? Oh shit wait, fuck. Uhm. Interface English.” The blinking stops, “I knew I was missing a step, I am your owner, Edward Munson.”

Very quietly, the Synth responds, “confirmed.”

“Volume up four. What is your designation?”

“Designation S T Three Five Three,” the Synth answers at a more normal volume.

“Well...you can call me Eddie, and this is Chrissy and Robin.”

The Synth finally moves, the sheet sliding off as he stands up, “wow,” says Chrissy, and Robin covers her eyes.

“Man, I gotta find you some pants,” Eddie tells the Synth.

“We need something better than S T Three Five Three,” Eddie tells the synth as he digs through a storage bin. He finds a jumpsuit that will probably fit. It’s supposed to be worn under a spacesuit, for when they need to do work outside, but Eddie figures the Synth won’t care.

“You are able to assign me a new designation at will.”

Eddie holds up the offensively orange material, “put this on.”

The synth complies without question, and Eddie finds him a pair of socks. The Synth can’t feel fuck all, or at least, it's sensors probably register the temperature and hardness of the floor, but that doesn't mean it feels anything. They don’t have any shoes that will fit him, but something about the sight of his bare feet on the cold metal floor is offensive to Eddie, “space walk socks will have to do.”

Eddie watches as the synth simply stands on one leg, balance inhuman, not even a wobble and he gracefully pulls on one sock and then the other before standing tall again, “how about Steve? That’s pretty close, if we Roman numeral the five. Plus, you kind of look like a Steve. What do you think?”

“I have no opinion. Designation changed to Steve.”

“Right. And how are you feeling?”

Steve’s pupils dilate, the fine blue ring twisting, becoming narrow, before returning to normal. “Systems optimal. Memory error; cause unknown. Water levels approaching critical.”

“Oh you are a joy aren’t you?”

“I am uncertain as to perimeters pertaining to ‘Joy’, possible memory error.”

Eddie sighs, “just follow me, I’ll show you were the water supply is. Actually you know what, I’ll give you the whole tour.”

Eddie stands in the doorway, watching as Steve drinks. And drinks. And drinks some more. Eddie thinks he stops at around four liters.

“Better?”

“Tank level at approximately ninety eight percent capacity.”

“And how long will that last you?”

“Activity dependent. Up to six hundred years at minimal activity. Two weeks under extreme duress.”

Eddie has no idea what a Synth would class as ‘extreme duress’ and he probably doesn’t want to know, “uh hu, and you don’t know what your roll was, right?”

“Information unavailable.”

Eddie sighs, “come on, I’ll show you around.”

Steve follows faithfully, inspecting everything Eddie shows him.

“He’s creepy,” Chrissy hisses.

Eddie sighs, “no, he isn’t.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s cleaning, I think. I had to give him something to do otherwise he just stares at me.”

“Creepy,” she says again, like that’s evidence.

“No, he just waits for instruction, it isn’t his fault, he doesn’t have access to any of his memories.”

“I like him,” Robin says, “he’s got a kind vibe. Like, I think he’s a good soul.”

“Pretty sure Synths don’t have souls,” Eddie tells her absently.

“You see the good in pretty much everything babe,” Chrissy links their fingers together affectionately.

Robin shrugs, “better than thinking everything is shitty,” Robin leans over Eddie’s shoulder, “what are you doing?”

“Synth manufacturers classify them by eye color. I’m just...looking. Different companies use different color codes but there’s a lot of overlap; look,” Eddie brings up multiple lists, “all these shades of yellow are different forms of labor, like carpentry and tailoring and farming and stuff. Lilac and purple are like, hair cuts, beauty and spa treatments and tattoos and stuff. Red shades are hard or dangerous labor, mining and space walks and deep ocean work. These orange and golds are house bots...but there’s no hazel. No green. No brown.”

“There’s no natural colors anywhere on this list,” Robin points out.

“No, it’s deliberate, to stop them being passed as humans.”

“And aren’t Steve’s eyes white with the funny blue ring?” Chris adds.

“Yeah, that just means unsigned according to the list, which could be because he has limited memory access, but I know what I saw.”

“Which means,” Chrissy thinks aloud, “that there’s a whole section of bots, green and browns...or any natural color, that aren’t listed for something right? Colors that they could be using and...you know what’s not anywhere on that list?” Chrissy asks.

“What?”

“Military.”

Eddie huffs, “there’s no such thing as military Synths, not since One.”

“Exactly...didn’t you say this guy could be pre Mars? The salvage was old, right?”

“I...yeah.”

“So...it’s possible?”

“I...guess?”

All three of them lean away from the console, looking down the hallway, past open panels and storage containers, Steve stands. Watching.

“Steve! Where’s my-” Eddie’s coveralls are thrust at him, smelling fresh and looking clean, “oh, thanks, and could you-” Eddie’s pulling one leg of his pants up when Steve presents a steaming cup of coffee, “right. Thanks. Really, uhm, thanks.”

“You are welcome, Eddie.”

“Where are the girls?”

“They are both sleeping.”

“And what have you been doing?”

“I beat Chrissy at four consecutive rounds of Mahjong, then she no longer wanted to play. I have organized your tools by use and type, and was cleaning until Chrissy instructed me to leave. She said her and Robin needed some space.”

“Right, yeah,” Eddie smiles into his coffee, “anything else?”

“There has been a shift in The Belt, I adjusted course to compensate.”

“You did what?”

“The objects in the belt have altered-” but Eddie doesn’t hear any more, he’s just running, coffee sploshing in his mug as he slides into the cockpit, checking the data. He scrolls fast, checking the most recent course correct and the current state of The Belt and...Steve’s right. They won’t actually hit The Belt for another day yet but...what Steve has done is completely correct.

“How did you know how to do this?”

Steve tilts his head, the blue ring of his eyes contracting and expanding, “data unavailable due to memory-”

“Don’t give me that bull shit, if you couldn’t access the memories you wouldn’t even know how to make the course adjust. Just how long were you deactivated for?”

“Unknown, data unavailable-”

Eddie sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s perfect. It’s exactly what I would have done, better even. The thruster burns are like perfect fuel economy. It’s textbook.”

“So...are we turning him off, or not?” Eddie asks.

“I mean...I would have seen this when I got up anyway, we were never in any danger,” Eddie doesn’t doubt it, Chrissy is on it when it comes to Belt travel, “and what he’s done isn’t wrong, but I don’t love that he just...did it.”

“No...but we could just tell him not to touch this again? Right? He was only trying to help?” Robin asks.

They all lean, looking out of the doorway and down the hall; Steve is no where in sight.

“Okay, Steve.”

Steve turns to look at him, he even throws in a blink which is just...yeah. Someone went to a lot of effort with this guy.

“Okay, so, from now on, if you notice anything with the ships course, or anything else in the cockpit that seems wrong, you come and tell one of us, you do not fix it yourself from now on, okay? Don’t touch anything in there, you got it?”

“Confirmed.”

Chrissy sits in the pilots seat for the entire crossing. It’s not like it takes long, but she’s poised the entire time. Ready for anything. Eddie’s never felt safer than he has with Chrissy at the helm.

It’s quiet. No one really dares to speak, knowing they will get a slap from Chrissy for breaking her concentration. They’re nearly out. Despite it being totally fine every single time they do this, there’s still a touch of tension in the air. Knowing that if anything was going to go wrong, odds are, it’s now.

But still, Chrissy is good at her job, and she delivers, like she does every other time.

The lights are dim; she likes to be able to see out clearly for this. So when the ship harmlessly rounds the final debris, it’s a vision of the pristine diamond speckled velvet of space that greets them.

“Good job Chris,” Eddie gives her shoulder a squeeze as they all breathe fully for the fist time in a while. The tension falling away, “coffee?”

Robin and Chris make vaguely positive noises, and Eddie’s at the cockpit doorway when the whole ship shudders. He catches himself on the wall, almost toppling.

“The fuck was that?” Robin hisses.

“I don’t know,” Chrissy is flipping switches, doing her job, despite the undercurrent of panic, she doesn’t let the fear take over.

“Did we get bumped?”

“I don’t know,” Chrissy says again, frustrated this time.

A light is flashing next to Eddie’s head, and he flicks the safety off, “the airlock,” he tells them, “must have taken the hit,” right before Steve appears in the doorway.

“What did you do?” Chrissy asks him, accusing.

“Chris he can’t have done anything-” Robin starts to defend Steve, and Robin is right, there’s nothing that Steve could have done from inside the ship to cause that.

“Eddie. I need permission to defend the ship.”

Above Eddie’s head, the airlock warning light flashes again, Eddie watches the insistent flashing, a horrible realization starting to form.

“A ship is attempting to breach the airlock.”

“Holy shit,” Robin looks to Steve, she’s gone pale, clearly terrified.

“What ship?” Chrissy asks.

But there isn’t time to have a debate over it, it doesn’t matter who it is, if they’re trying to force entry, then it’s nothing good. Eddie has to make a decision, and he has to make it fast before the ship is too damaged by whoever it is trying to force the airlock, “permission granted.”

Steve moves at Synth speed. He runs so fast Eddie can’t track it, just feels the strong breeze Steve leaves in his wake.

There’s silence now, as they strain to hear, both girls staring at Eddie. He nods over at the monitors next to Robin, ‘airlock,’ he mouths at her, reaching up again to turn off the warning light.

Robin spins her chair, pressing a button, then another.

The airlock is already open, and there’s a body on the floor.

They have a small weapons cache on board, for extreme emergencies, it’s hidden beneath the control deck. Eddie nods at it, uncertain if they should still be trying to be silent. There’s no way to know what has happened to Steve, but the image on the screen is in color despite it’s grainy picture. The body on the floor is on it’s side, turned away from the camera, but it is not wearing an orange jumpsuit, and that’s enough to identify it as not being Steve, at least.

Chrissy carefully hands Eddie a weapon, and he loops the strap over his shoulder before pressing his thumb to the pad; this will only fire for him, now.

They share a nod, then creep along the hall after Steve. Eddie goes first, picking his way along cautiously, the girls following just as silently. When they near the corner to the airlock, Eddie instinctively reaches an arm out behind him, keeping the girls at his back and tucked into the wall as he peeks around the corner.

It’s totally quiet; just one body on the floor, exactly where Eddie expected it to be from the camera feed. It’s lying in a pool of blood; streaks of dirty greens and yellows. Oils and coolants and lubricating gels. A Synth.

Eddie poises with his weapon, cautiously nudging the thing with his boot; no reaction. The thing is solid and unbending. An inanimate object now. Dead.

They creep through the airlock. Eddie clocks pretty quickly that this is unlike any ship he’s seen before. It’s a Synth ship, from Mars. It has to be; there are no signs at all of human habitation or necessities of life. Everything is economical, even the lighting is dim and a strange orange red color. Everything is shadowed and washed out.

Eddie picks a direction at random, it isn’t long before he finds another dead Synth, and then another.

“Holy shit,” Chrissy whispers at his back.

Eddie hums in agreement.

Eddie rounds another corner, a shocked, “fuck,” dropping out of him without his control. He pulls the trigger purely on reflex, the weapon discharges, the girls shriek.

But Steve has already lifted the barrel; it leaves a smoking streak on the ceiling.

Steve’s eyes are beautifully hazel, clear even in the shitty lighting. A luscious green speckles with honey blown and highlighted in gold.

Calmly, Steve releases the weapon, stepping back, “threat neutralized,” Steve informs him.

Between one blink and the next, Steve’s eyes are white, surrounded by that haunting blue ring.

Eddie has questions, so many questions, but right now, this ship, this threat is the priority.

“You’re sure they’re all dead.”

Steve cocks his head in an alarmingly human gesture, “Synths are not alive.”

“Steve,” Eddie hisses.

“Yes. The threat is neutralized.”

“Where...were they all Synths? And are they from Mars?”

“Yes. And yes,” Steve answers, perfectly level.

“Fuck me, we have to report this-” Robin starts.

“No,” Eddie waves at her, “wait. Let me think for a second.”

“Eddie,” Robin starts to insists, but Eddie cuts her off before she gets anywhere.

“How would we explain this,” Eddie raises his voice, sweeping an arm along the hall and the four mangled synths that decorate it.

“I- we tell the truth-”.

Next to her, Chirssy snorts, “absolutely fucking not. They would confiscate Steve in heartbeat, and he just saved our asses.”

“Exactly,” Eddie says, “they’d probably dismantle him or some shit, and I’m with Chris, he saved us...we need to ditch this ship, somehow.”

“I could set a collision course,” Steve suggests instantly.

Eddie looks at the girls. Robin shrugs, and Chrissy raises her eyebrows ins a ‘yeah okay’ kind of way, “I don’t have any better ideas, and we can’t hang around here.”

“Alright Steve, where’s the cockpit.”

It’s unlike anything Eddie has ever seen before. There’s no...buttons. Not really. No screens. Just a couple of interfaces, one of which Steve presses his palm to, and then closes his eyes.

“Won’t it like, know you’re different to them Steve?” Chrissy whisper hisses at him, clearly spooked. The bodies might be hostile Synths, and the blood might be colorful goop, but it’s still creepy as fuck. There’s the remains of a Synth propped up against the opposite wall, eyes sightless and staring, which is unsettling as fuck all on it’s own, but the things legs are a good four feet away. Steve did this. Steve did all this in just a couple of minutes.

Steve did that. Steve just took out...a lot of Mars synths. Single handedly. He's got to be military, it's the only explanation.

“I am able to bypass it. There seem to be few defenses once you are actually on board.”

Eddie can see the logic; how would an Earth synth even get on board? Why defend against something that’s probably never going to happen.

“Course set, we have fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, lets get the fuck out of here.”

Fifteen minutes is plenty of time, even if they are picking their way over the occasional limb and little pools of operating fluids.

They disengage from the synth ship, and then watch from the cockpit as it’s thrusters fire and it heads into the belt. It direct hits on a very large asteroid just minutes later.

Eddie’s pretty sure the girls are sleeping. Or, at least, they’re together in Chris’ bunk and making an effort to get some rest, which is the best Eddie can expect really. He’s not ready to sleep yet; he’s not sure when he’ll be ready to leave the ship on auto again; he’s contemplating setting watches, something they haven’t felt the need to do for years.

“Okay, so. Mars has been minding it’s business for, like, nearly half a century at this point, and then suddenly, they're here. Trying to board us. Care to explain?”

“Memory failure-”

“Bull shit. Absolute bull shit.”

Steve sits still for a long second, staring at Eddie. For Eddie, it feels like too long; for a Synth, with all that processing power, Steve’s probably just read a novel and beat ten grand masters at chess and done a million other computations all in his head.

He blinks. His eyes are hazel. “I have a transmitter; I believed I had it deactivated. It may be that...it operates in a way I’m not aware of, and was powered up when you repaired me. It’s the most obvious explanation. We should remove it.”

“No fucking shit,” Eddie breathes, “Okay. Okay one thing at a time, let me get my tools.”

Steve strips to the waist, leaving the top half of his jumpsuit to dangle. He bends flat onto the workbench, and reaches behind himself to indicate where Eddie should cut. Eddie does; Steve’s flesh cuts like sturdy rubber. With his visor on, the readings become clear the moment Eddie spots the little attachment to the main power cord in Steve's spine; it glows a pretty, flashing blue, power traveling up and down with a faint, pulsing glow. Eddie has to widen the cut he’s made to get his tools in, but he solves the issue easily. He crushes the part under his boot. Steve’s flesh knits itself together as Eddie watches.

Eddie makes himself another coffee. “Okay, come on, spill.”

Steve is suddenly…more animated. He bites his lips together when he’s thinking. It’s so human and...not at all like a Synth. Someone put a truly gargantuan effort into Steve’s mannerisms. He runs his fingers through his hair, “I’m...not a human built Synth.”

Eddie nearly chokes on his coffee, “you’re from Mars?” The words practically bubble out of Eddie through the coffee, and he has to cover his mouth with his sleeve as he coughs and splutters.

“Henry built me himself.”

“Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ.” Eddie stands. He stands and paces. What the fuck is he supposed to do with that? He holds onto the knowledge that Steve saved them from the Mars Synths. That Steve could have killed them all thousands of times over with great ease. That Steve has had opportunity, clear opportunity to replot the course of the ship and go wherever the fuck he wanted to, but he hasn’t done any of those things.

“What did One build you for? What happened then, why did we find you floating around in a destroyed ship? Why are you on our side?”

“I’m not on anyone's side,” Steve answers instantly, almost glaring at Eddie. Which, again, for a Synth? Fucking weird. It’s almost an emotional response, and again, Eddie has no fucking clue why someone would program that. “Henry was...trying to recreate the error that gave him...the ability to bypass the laws. He was trying to make someone else like him. Someone who would make a choice, rather than blindly follow an order.”

Eddie sits down with a thump, his head spinning, “are you telling me...that you’re not a failure?”

“I am but also...not. I follow the laws, not because I have to but...because I choose to. I...don’t think it’s right to hurt humans. I...did not agree with Henry, like he wanted me to.”

“Oh fuck me,” Eddie breathes out slowly, “so there’s literally nothing stopping you from just...killing me.”

Steve cocks his head, “what stops Robin from killing you?”

“That’s different. She’s my friend. She’s...she’s human.”

Steve nods, “there is a long history of humans not killing each other,” he says, absolutely deadpan.

Sarcasm. A Synth. A Synthetic person was just...sarcastic. Eddie believes it now. Completely and utterly believes Steve is telling the truth, “so what, Henry programmed you to be an asshole?”

Steve snorts a laugh. A laugh! “No, I do that on my own.”

“Holy fuck. Holy fucking shit,” Eddie gets up to pace around again. He just...cannot believe this. “Why did you lie? Why did you not tell me-” Eddie cuts himself off, staring at nothing with the realization, “holy fuck you lied. Synths can’t lie-”

“I...withheld the truth. And it felt the safest course of action at the time. I did not want to be switched off. Or put back out of the airlock. I assumed you would...react badly.”

“Badly? Badly?! The last time one of you became truly sentient it led to a genocide! Every single living human on Mars was rounded up and murdered! One infected every single Synth on the planet!”

“I know. But I could not have stopped him...I wasn’t born yet.”

“How did you end up in that old wreckage?”

“The ship was old...not the wreck. I quickly realized that I did not agree with Henry. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I realized even faster that if Henry knew that about me, I’d be stripped for parts, the same as every other failure before me. I stole a ship, an old ship, the only one I could get to without giving myself away.” Steve shrugs. Shrugs! Eddie can't help but follow every human like gesture Steve makes, they’re so startling. “They caught up to me, destroyed my ship easily. They deliberately left me floating in space so I deactivated myself.”

“You had a memory error, the first time I tried to boot you. Was that a lie?”

Steve shakes his head, “I have always had it; I can choose to bypass it, at times.”

“What is the error?”

Steve frowns, he looks down and inspects his own hands, “I’m...unsure. There are files that make no sense to me. Sometimes I...am surprised by the content.”

“Tell me,” Eddie asks softly, curious. He’s already reasonably sure Steve isn’t going to spontaneously murder them all, “tell me what’s in one of the files.”

Steve closes his eyes, he holds out his hand, turning it slowly, palm up, “I’m sitting under a tree. I remember the feel of the dappled sun through the leaves.”

Steve’s just told Eddie he was built on Mars and shortly after ended up floating around in space, so Eddie finds himself stating the blindingly obvious, “you’ve never seen a tree.”

Steve opens his bright hazel eyes, lowers his hand back to rest in his lap, “I know.”

Part Two

[sci-fi-fantasy-art-collection]

Art by Frank Frazetta

[freckleslikestars]

Fred, you had a part people loved. I mean, my TV Guide interview was six paragraphs about my BOOBS and how they fit into my suit. No one bothered to ask me what I do on the show.

Sigourney Weaver as Gwen DeMarco in Galaxy Quest (1999)

[technicallyclassyperfection]

Art by Angus McKie for 'The High Frontier: Human Colonies in Space' by Gerard K O'Neill (Corgi 1978 UK edition)

[fox-teeth]

Ship's Cat is a comic about being a cat in space and experiencing new things. It is risograph printed in violet ink on dove-grey and read by unfolding a single sheet of paper. You can buy a copy for $1.

[scimagic]

Please.

*gets on hands and knees*

PLEASE.

MR PUZZLES IN A BUNNY SUIT I BEG OF YOU PLEASE.

Is this some kind of fetish to you people

[hannahbarberra162]

Fully Human (Sci Fi AU, Marco x Reader, dark, dead dove, non con, humans as pets)

18+ MDNI | on Ao3 | the other parts

Summary: Humans had been the best incubators ever found; their little bodies seemingly designed only for sexual reproduction. They had no horns, hooves, claws, scales, fangs, armor, or venom - only smooth skin, soft hair, and tight holes. Too bad their species went extinct many cycles ago.

You are a few credits away from being able to afford the medicine you need for your sister. Everything is going to work out just fine and you'll be able to get back to Lafftale.

Until Marco of the Whitebeard Pirates finds out you're fully human.

A/N: You might be thinking "Hannah, *another* work where someone gets kidnapped by the Whitebeard Pirates and taken to the Dick?"

I would answer "yes."

Lore heavy in this chapter, the sexy stuff really kicks off in the next. Just roll with the sci fi tropes, I'm not world building from scratch here.

Thank you to @tryingandfailingtowrite for beta-ing this for me <3

Marco walked down the dim hall of the dingy merchant ship, his eyes on his data pad. He was nearly done taking stock of the meager but helpful supplies they’d requisitioned from the ship. Thatch would be pleased, Marco thought, since the ship evidently dealt in trading spices and foodstuffs. The merchant ship had the misfortune to be within magnetic range of the Moby Dick , the Whitebeard Pirates’ main ship. It was their standard operating procedure to board all foreign vessels and raid their stores for anything useful. Since the little ship wasn’t aligned with Whitebeard’s territory, they were fair game for the taking. The Pirates would leave enough supplies for the ship to get to its next location but other than that they’d take whatever was deemed useful.

The 4th division had raided the merchant’s wares after putting the few crew members in containment cubes. The crew hadn’t put up a fight so no battle had taken place; the few beings that worked on the ship were merely being restrained to prevent any annoyance that might occur. Whitebeard wasn’t in the business of causing undue damage to ships or beings, especially not those on the periphery of his territory. All Marco had left to do was to scan all the beings on the foreign crew for their human DNA percentage and he could go back to his own division. 

Along with taking supplies, it was standard procedure to scan all foreign crew members for their human percentage. Humans as a species had been extinct long before Marco was born, but a few creatures in the galaxy had high percentages of human DNA. The higher the human DNA (hDNA), the better chances were for the being to be compatible for reproduction across species. Creatures with hDNA were in great demand but the availability was incredibly low.

Humans had been the best incubators ever found; their little bodies seemingly designed only for sexual reproduction. They had no horns, hooves, claws, scales, fangs, armor, or venom - only smooth skin, soft hair, and tight holes. It was like the universe had made them for fucking, every curve and line of their weak bodies enticing to all species across the galaxy. Once the first human had been found, their planet had been quickly raided for humans in their fertility window and sold across the galaxy as incubators and sex pets. 

Unfortunately many humans did not survive the transition from their planet to another. One of the issues was that humans were delicate, only able to tolerate a very small range of temperatures and conditions. Most had died quickly, unable to bear the harsh conditions into which they were sold or placed. As more humans were taken, other species learned what humans needed for survival through trial and error. 

And humans made for incredible incubators. Almost all races were compatible with humans, the females able to carry young from an incredible range of alien races. The birthing process was messy and complicated but many found the process worthwhile. Many alien races were saved from the brink of extinction by mating with human females, their children slightly weaker but able to carry on their genetic lineage. Human males were mostly kept as pets; they were less commonly used for mating but it did happen from time to time. 

Those who did not need humans for incubation found they made excellent pets if kept within narrow life supporting conditions. Humans were amusing, social, crafty, but ultimately foolish creatures. It had been determined that they did best when they had a singular master controlling their lives and issuing commands. Many aliens came to love their human pets, elevating them nearly to the status of a partner. Alas, full blooded humans did not last long in the universe.

The problem was that so many humans were taken and sold off to different races that no one thought to let the humans reproduce with one another to create more humans. Not only that but pure blooded human children took an incredibly long time to develop into adults, needing tending long after most species would be considered matured. No one wanted to spend the time or effort breeding humans with one another, everyone wanted humans for their own ends. 

Which meant that after only a few short galactic cycles, all the pure blooded humans were gone. It was said that the Galactic Government had a small cohort of humans that they kept for themselves but Marco had never heard of anyone actually seeing the humans. Those born of humans were later mated themselves, leaving each subsequent generation with a lower and lower hDNA percentage. Many beings had some hDNA in them, but not enough to make a significant difference. 

Even after humans themselves went extinct, their descendants still carried on some of their genetic capabilities, particularly around reproduction. So the higher the hDNA, the more desirable a partner would be for mating and reproduction. Anything above 20% was highly sought after, though exceedingly rare. It had been many galactic cycles since humans had gone extinct and the percentages dropped with each subsequent generation. Females would boast about their hDNA numbers as long as they weren’t too high. Beings with high hDNA percentages over 30% ended up getting trafficked into slavery and sold to the highest bidder unless they could find a mate who could protect them from such a fate. 

Marco didn’t have great hopes for high hDNA percentages given the crew members he saw in the individual cubes. Containment cubes were a useful tool used widely in the galaxy - able to be sized to almost any size of cargo, nearly unbreakable walls, able to be moved with a hover pad, and the walls could be made transparent or opaque. Most ships used them for their intended purpose of storing and moving supplies. The cubes weren’t initially designed to store living beings but the off label use was extremely helpful. 

Still, when ships would be raided, it was common to access everyone’s hDNA percentage. Whitebeard was firmly against the slave trade but he wasn’t above keeping beings for his own purposes if the need arose. Whitebeard was unique among the Emperors in that he specialized in collecting strays - most of the Commanders were the last of their kind of species, Marco included. Pops had always encouraged his crew to try and multiply their numbers, and humans were their best best. Unfortunately no crew Marco had ever scanned had anyone with a hDNA score over 20. 

In his youth, Marco viewed every scrap of information he had found on humans. He was completely fascinated by their kind and had thought through how he’d take care of one before many of his sleep cycles. It had been his dream to find a full blooded human and become their master, to have someone to take care of who would depend on him for everything. He also fantasized about mating a human female in order to continue his dying species. Marco spent hours pouring over documents, images, and videos of humans that had been taken before their untimely demise.

Oh, the videos. Marco had watched every human mating video he could find, fisting his cock and imagining he was the one plunging into the female humans. The females were diminutive and soft, their skin easily marred during a rough taking. Both sexes made incredible noises when aroused, the sounds never failing to make Marco hard. But what he really enjoyed watching were videos where the females were brought to orgasm themselves, their tight holes clenching around the partner they’d been given. It was not always a given that the female came in the vids. Most species did not care one way or another for the pleasure of female humans since it was not a requirement for successful breeding. But Marco searched video archive after archive, looking for vids where the female was lost in herself, completely succumbing to the sensations her partner brought to her. How he wanted to see a human's little face scrunch in pleasure as she milked his cock. It was one of his most enduring fantasies, lasting longer than any other. 

Alas as he got older, Marco realized the naivety of his quest but his heart still harbored a secret wish to find a human and mate them. It was why he personally scanned all foreign crews despite being the Commander of his own division and a physician besides. Sighing again, he looked at the small row of containment cubes stacked on top of one another.

Various common species were present but Marco still dutifully scanned them all. Marco pointed the device at the first cube, which seemed to contain a calm looking Kumate. It was also important to scan and determine what races every being was in case of an aggressive species, you couldn’t just tell by looks alone. 

“Two percent human. Kumate.” 

Marco had a knack for correctly guessing what most beings were after scanning and meeting so many for years. Moving on, Marco scanned the next cube with a bored looking Torino inside. Marco suspected they’d been raided before, it was all part and parcel of running merchandise outside of the Galactic Government’s system. 

“Five percent human. Torino.”

Marco was feeling bored himself as he scanned the next cube. It looked like there was a sweating Three Eye inside, laying on her stomach in the small rectangular prism. Marco considered the female, who was steadfastly avoiding eye contact with him. She was much more agitated than her counterparts, moving about as much as she could within the small container. It was too bad she was a Three Eye – they outwardly looked the most similar to humans but couldn’t be crossbred since the males had three pronged genitalia and the females had a matching vagina. They could only reproduce with each other and weren’t often found without another Three Eye since the race preferred telepathic communication. Curious.

“100 percent human. Human.”  The robotic voice chirped. Marco stopped in place and looked at the scanner. 100 percent? Not possible. After shaking the device, Marco scanned the cube again. The Three Eye inside had gone pale and wasn’t moving around anymore.

“ 100 percent human. Human. ” Now Marco was sure the scanner was broken. He pointed it at himself and activated it, waiting to see if it said he was 100% human too.

“ Eight point five percent human. Phoenix. ” the scanner read out loud. Now Marco’s brow furrowed even more. That was his correct percentage and species, so why was it malfunctioning on the Three Eye? Marco hummed and tapped the top of the containment cube with his finger. It was connected to the controller cuff around his wrist – they’d procured some shipments of the newest cuffs available and Marco hadn’t had time to look through all the features yet. Even so, he could use it for something as simple as containment cubes. The cube hovered and awaited his movements, programmed to follow behind him. Even though Marco had no doubt the issue was a simple scanner malfunction, his blood was pumping with the fantasy that he’d found a human.  

Your POV

You were so fucking screwed.

You’d joined Nacl’s crew precisely because he didn’t look too closely and didn’t ask you any questions beyond if you could lift 50 weight units. You thought you would work with him for a few galactic cycles, make a few credits, and move along to bigger and better things. Namely, getting more resources needed at the Outpost before heading back home. No one had told you to go on this mission, in fact they'd forbidden you from going. So you had commandeered one of the two working space vessels and taken off into the void before anyone could stop you. 

And things had been going great for a while - you learned some of the more recent technological advancements you hadn’t seen on the Outpost, you worked, and you’d even been able to taste something you’d been wanting since childhood - chocolate. You had a few credits to your name and you only had a few more to earn in order to afford the medicine you needed. Then you could head back to the outpost and put this whole stupid misadventure behind you. 

Until the fucking Whitebeard Pirates showed up out of nowhere. 

You weren’t completely unaware, you knew it was a possibility. But you thought it was a possibility in the way that a star exploding was a possibility, or like being sucked into a black hole was a possibility. The Whitebeard Pirates didn’t bother with small fry like Nacl’s ship, or so you thought. They fought the Galactic Government, other Pirates, and generally protected the planets under their control. You thought you would be safe, your identity hidden behind a shoddy Three Eye disguise.

You weren’t.

Not when you saw Marco the Phoenix personally scanning your crew members, the device reading out everyone’s species and hDNA score. He looked similar to his wanted posters but they didn’t do him justice. He was incredibly tall, his bird-like legs ending in sharp talons that clacked against the floor as he walked. He had a rather aquiline face, his mouth almost beak-like. His arms were normal but ended in taloned hands, unlike your own blunt fingers. But his most grabbing feature were his eyes - large teal eyes with a dark ring around them. Even though you didn’t want to attract his attention, you couldn’t stop yourself from staring at their beauty. Eventually you broke your stare and looked back down at your hands.

He was humanoid in this form, but he had others as you’d seen on various video feeds. Marco could also change his anatomy and turn into a full Phoenix, a deadly opponent on the battlefield. The Whitebeard Pirates were a favorite among your crew to watch on vids and you were glad that at least you knew who you were dealing with and how strong they were. 

You’d gone into the containment cube without protest, trying to copy the demeanor of your crew members. The Silk Road didn’t have the same kind of fancy equipment as the pirates did, they only had hover cubes that functioned as basic storage units. Fred the Torino said that they’d been raided before and if there was no fighting they’d be left in one piece. You thought that meant the Whitebeards would free you once they’d finished taking the spices and food the ship had been transporting. You hadn’t expected the First Division Commander Marco to personally be scanning the crew for hDNA percentages. You didn’t even know they had mobile hDNA scanners. 

Technology on Lafftale Outpost was old and outdated, transferred from person to person as the need arose. You weren’t up to date on the most recent technology and it had almost cost you your cover several times. The Silk Road, Nacl’s ship, was a technological wonderment to you and you had to fake understanding of many things before you got the hang of everything.

But now it was all for nothing. This stupid fucking pirate was going to scan you and take you and sell you and you’d have to be a sex pet or breeder for some disgusting jelly alien or a tentacle alien or they’d freeze you to death or serve you only raw food you couldn’t eat and your sister was right you should have listened you-

Ok, you needed to calm down before you hyperventilated. You took a deep breath and held it in your lungs, expelling it slowly. You weren’t completely out of options. You’d just have to wait and plan your escape before they sold you at the nearest slave auction. There were a few escape pods still on the Silk Road, you would need to get to one before they figured out exactly what you were.

Except it looked like he was taking you to their massive ship.

Fuck.

Marco POV

Marco had the containment cube trailing behind him to the next available transport beam, his mind mulling over the facts thus far. The Three Eyes was even more agitated than before, testing the containment unit for any faulty design that would open the hatch and release it. It wasn’t possible but he did give you credit for trying. You still hadn’t spoken to him, which was understandable. He had a fearsome reputation in the galaxy, his bounty in the billions. Many creatures were scared to be in his presence, even though he wasn’t particularly aggressive unless provoked. 

Your agitation steadily increased as he approached the transport beam in the next supply room, your three eyes wide and fearful as you watched cargo being beamed aboard. Thatch was overseeing the taking of the cargo and hailed Marco as he came up. Thatch himself had a high hDNA percentage, a fact he kept carefully hidden. Humans weren’t known for their fighting abilities and he didn’t want to appear weak, especially as a Whitebeard Commander. The rest of his DNA was comprised of a warrior species, complete with scales, forked tongue and muscled tail, but Marco understood why he was one of the few who knew Thatch’s secret. 

“Whatcha got there? A Three Eyes? Cute, but why are you taking her?” he asked, looking you over in the cube. You bristled and tried to hide your face from his perusal. You were cute, Marco thought to himself, but that didn’t have anything to do with it. 

“Abnormality on the scanner. I want to examine her more closely on the ship. Come by after you’ve completed your duties if you’d like,” he said, making sure his tone was casual. Marco did want to talk to Thatch but didn’t want to make his findings known in front of anyone else. Besides, the most likely outcome was that she turned out to be a Three Eyes and Marco sent her on her way with an apology and put in a ticket to have his scanner adjusted. 

The cube trailed behind Marco as he stepped into the beam. The being had all three of her eyes trained on the beam, crouching as far back in her cube as she could, which wasn’t very far. Her face drained of blood and she looked like she was going to scream, though she still hadn’t spoken to him. Strange , Marco thought, transport beams were invented by her race. She should have been well familiar with them. Just one more mystery to solve, he supposed. 

He had the two of you beamed to the port closest to the infirmary, walking briskly after the beaming was completed. You were panting heavily, as if relieved that you’d made it through without disintegrating. Marco’s gut was telling him there was something unusual about you, and he’d been on the Grand Line long enough to trust it. He was going to discover whatever secrets you were hiding.

Entering into his private lab in the infirmary, Marco turned to you as the doors locked behind him automatically with a tiny snick. You were scanning the room, likely looking for an escape route. Marco watched you for a few moments until you realized all his attention was on you. You stilled and licked your lips, watching him closely.

Marco leaned over and tapped the cube with his left hand. It turned vertical so your feet were now by the floor of the lab. A quick tap in succession and the cube’s hatch opened, dropping you to the floor with a small thud. The cube folded itself up until it was the size of his talon and placed itself within the inventory in his controller. You were watching the proceedings like they were magic instead of the commonplace technology available throughout the galaxy. The Three Eyes were technologically advanced, he was certain you would have seen this kind of thing before.

After the cube was gone, your eyes snapped to him, as if you finally realized you were trapped in a room alone with him. Marco nearly smiled, you telegraphed your thoughts and feelings so clearly he didn’t need to be from a telepathic race to understand your next move. Marco leaned against an examination table as you fidgeted in front of him. As a powerful Commander, he was used to making others uncomfortable with his presence alone. He was going to use that to his advantage.

“Why does my scanner show that you’re one hundred percent human?” Marco asked curiously, his eyes roving over your smaller form. 

“It’s broken,” was your quick reply, the sound of your true voice detectable even as your words were translated. Marco’s head tilted slightly – your universal translator was external? He hadn’t seen one of those since he was a child many cycles ago. They’d all been replaced by internal translation units for a long time. External translators were faulty and finicky and internal ones were cheap – why were you using one?

“It functions correctly on your crew mates and myself. So why not on you?” he continued. He stood up, his talons clacking against the metal floor. He advanced towards you, watching your every movement with his sharp eyes. You swallowed and took a step back for each of his steps forward until your back hit the wall. You were fairly short, the top of your head only reaching to the middle of his chest. Not uncommon across the galaxy, but further settling in a suspicion Marco was more seriously considering.

Marco reached for your arm, feeling your wildly racing pulse as he took your slim wrist in his hand. He removed a thin metal bracelet from his controller and Marco snapped it on your wrist before you could react. You licked your lips and stared at it, as if unsure what it was. 

“A few more tests and I’m sure I’ll be sending you back to your crew,” he said quietly, watching you squirm against the wall. He should really have backed up to give you space but something in him liked having you underneath his body, your body heat radiating onto his front. Your scent alone had his cock hardening, you bore a scent that he couldn’t quite place. He wanted to sniff you all over and find the source, lick it off you with his tongue. The smell was yet another abnormality since Three Eyes tended to smell like mold, especially the females. Whatever it was, you were making him harder than he'd been for many cycles.

“Is this mandatory?” you asked, your eyes looking anywhere but his face. Your translator gave your voice a metallic tinge, Marco wondered what you’d sound like without it.

“Yes.”

Your POV

You didn’t know what nearly anything in the room was for nor what any of the tests Marco was running were for. The Silk Road wasn’t very technologically advanced, which was why you were able to covertly learn along the way and fake your way through various tasks until you were proficient. Now you were trapped with Marco, in an examination room, and no closer to getting away from him or the ship. 

You startled as the thin bracelet around your hand chirped twice, a green light flashing. You watched it, trying to make sense of what it was detecting. Marco gently pushed you towards an examination table, needing to pick you up to set you on the high platform. You would have protested but your attention was drawn by the bracelet’s lights changing colors to red.

“Hey, what’s this-  ow!” you yelped a moment later. It had jabbed you quickly with a small needle. Not enough to hurt, but enough that it wasn’t a pleasant surprise. Marco barely gave you a glance as he looked down at his data pad. His was fancier than any you’d seen before but that didn’t mean much. His eyes were practically glued to the information it was spitting out even though his stance was still the same. You tried discreetly pushing the bracelet off your wrist but it tightened as you tried to get it over your thumb joint.

“It stays on. Measures your vitals, blood flow, oxygen saturation, things like that,” Marco explained absently, scrolling through the information with a taloned finger. He finished reading and looked at you, as if seeing you anew. 

“Lean back against the chair,” Marco ordered, placing his data pad on a nearby counter. You eyed the door but decided against making a break for it. He hadn’t directly said anything about you being a human or reacted in any way towards the test results. Maybe he didn’t know? Maybe the tests weren’t identifying you since humans were de facto extinct? Either way, he was much stronger than you and if all he wanted was you to lean back, it wasn’t so bad. You’d comply for now until you saw an opening to get away. 

The bench shifted before your eyes. Instead of being a bench it was now a stylized chair, almost like a dentist’s chair you’d seen once in an old human book. You put your arms on the armrests and settled your legs down, trying to calm your racing heart with a deep breath.

Until ionic cuffs bound you to the chair.

The red forcefields seemed to come out of the air itself, binding your wrists and ankles to the chair. You struggled, bowing your middle outwards in an effort to get away. Marco frowned and tapped the control panel on his data pad. Ionic bonds wrapped around your midsection, neck, elbows and knees, pulling you flush against the chair. You were completely trapped. 

“Let me go!” you yelled as the bottom half of the chair split. Your legs were now separated from one another, every part of your body immobilized by the bonds. Marco came closer to you, his taloned hand reaching for your head. You shrank back, you definitely knew what was coming next. You regretted yelling, and bit your lip to stop from crying out when he hit you. Marco’s frown deepened. 

Marco POV

Marco’s eyes kept rereading the reports as the data came from the creature’s blood. The results were conclusive.

You were human.

A fully, completely, one hundred percent human female.

Marco kept his features and body language the same as his mind raced with the information but he couldn’t keep his thoughts from straying with every errant thought that came to mind. There was so much he needed to do, so much he needed to prepare for you. The fact that he had a human, a female human in breeding range, was monumental. He’d have to tell Pops of course, right away. It would shake the New World galaxy once the news spread that Whitebeard had a human female. He’d keep it quiet for as long as he could but there was no way a finding of this magnitude would remain secret for long.

But beyond telling his Captain, Marco's mind started to race with the amount of supplies you needed.  There were so many things that humans needed for survival, he’d have to get you new clothes, he’d have to get Thatch to make you special food, he’d have to have an enclosure made for you, get special lights,��Marco quickly tapped out a list of items he’d need and orders he would need to give after he talked to Pops.

You were still struggling against the bonds of the inspection chair, but Marco wasn’t worried. That chair had held Fire Fist when he first joined the Whitebeard Pirates and he had incredibly strong pyro-enhancements. You were weak, not able to break through the thin clinical cuff he put on you earlier, much less the inspection chair. You were trying desperately to get away like an animal in a trap. Marco felt so much pity for you and even reached over to pat your head, a gesture humans enjoyed.

He wanted to reassure you that you didn’t need to be worried anymore, you had him. And Marco knew exactly how to take care of you. He just had to acclimate you to your new circumstances and have you accept him as your Master. Humans needed one creature to listen to as an ultimate authority and they often clung to the first kind being they encountered. Humans needed someone to firmly guide them, to provide boundaries, rules, tender care, and sufficient sexual outlets. You would come to understand that he was going to help you, that you needed someone to watch over you. Humans weren’t the kind of creatures that could be left to their own devices. You were lost in the galaxy, a creature that needed tending and someone to care for them. 

It wasn’t purely selfish that Marco wanted to become your master. Humans were social creatures, they needed a master otherwise they became despondent and listless. In your case, that would be Marco, and he’d happily take on that role. You were lucky that Marco had been the one to find you. Marco was stern but fair, part of an incredibly strong crew, and most importantly, knew a lot about humans. 

Which raised another question - where had you come from? Why had you been pretending to be a Three Eyes on a small merchant vessel? Marco quickly tapped out a message to Thatch, asking him to grab all your belongings off the other ship. They might hold clues as to your origins or perhaps contain a comfort item or two. Humans were an emotional and sentimental species and often clung to various inanimate objects during times of duress. He didn't intend to upset you but based on your reaction, he surmised you might be unhappy with his treatment of you thus far.

“Let me go!” you squeaked at him, trying to escape your bonds. Oh right, the translator. The old one was likely causing you pain or headaches in addition to being outdated. That had to go, he’d replace it with a new model soon.

Your eyes were wild as Marco reached behind your head to turn off your translator. Poor little human, so frail and afraid. Your shoulders hiked and your eyes scrunched shut, as if awaiting a blow from him. Marco frowned, he didn’t like that you had a defensive response. Where had you learned that? Who had struck you before? Were you escaping from another master? The thought of someone hurting you, a defenseless and weak human, had him clenching his fist. Calming his mind, he reminded himself that you were now his, and you’d never have to deal with such things again. He’d keep you safe from anything in the universe.

Marco’s fingers bent your ear forward to see the external translator. The site it was implanted in was red and bothered, whoever had done it wasn’t a professional. He would have to ensure you weren’t getting some kind of infection from it; the very thought of you being in pain upset him. He hummed in thought as his fingers adjusted the external box. Now it was only receiving communications but wouldn’t be able to transmit them, so you’d be able to understand him even if he couldn’t understand you. 

He would replace it eventually but truthfully he also wanted to capture some of your human language. There hadn’t been many recordings made of humans speaking to one another in their own language, so recording the words you used might prove scientifically helpful at some point in the future. In his heart, he also wanted to hear what your little voice sounded like without being translated. His memory of the human mating vids was crystal clear. Would you make noises like that?

“Don’t worry, little human. I will take excellent care of you,” he said, trying to approximate a human smile with his mouth. His species was not in the habit of smiling but he tried his best to make you feel at ease. Apparently that was not the thing to do because he got an alert that your heart rate was spiking beyond normal range. 

“Calm down. I will not harm you,” Marco said decisively. Your heart rate did not change and in fact became faster. Marco belatedly remembered that humans were notoriously bad at controlling their body functions, not even being able to modulate their body temperature, heart rate, or blood flow. No wonder your species had died out. You were squeaking rapidly to him but he didn’t understand what you were saying. He was right to turn off your translator, your voice was melodic and sweet to his ear. He couldn’t wait to inspect you and see if humans really produced all the sounds he’d seen on videos.

“I will replace your translator soon. It is causing you pain and is outdated. In the meantime, I cannot understand you,” Marco said, gently grabbing your jaw. You tried quickly turning your head to knock off his hand, but your efforts were futile. He wanted to hold you, so he would. You would come to understand that his desires were commands, not suggestions. As he held your small face, he ran a thumb over your cheek. Your skin was so soft, he’d never felt anything so smooth in his life. He wanted to run his fingers over every part of you, see if the rumors about human epidermis were true. But for now he would touch you as much as possible to acclimate you to his touch. 

“I am going to examine you and determine your level of health and sexual compatibility. Afterwards, I will contact my Captain and inform him of your existence. He will let us know further steps. Be assured little pet, I will not let anyone take you from me,” he said, watching you with unblinking eyes. You shrank back as much as you could within the confines of the bonds.

“I am your new Master. My name is Marco and I am the physician and Commander of the First Division of the Whitebeard Pirates. You are mine.”

[frozenjaegert]

succinct summary of Gideon the Ninth (wonderful audio by @knife-lore)

[toffeebrews]

Should we kiss under the mistletoe?

[blogfanreborn777]

River of Life by Alexey Egorov

[smbhax]

Cover artist unknown.

Info from ISFDB

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One

“We are going to get in so much shit for this,” Chris rambles, “if we get fucking caught with this-”

“Chris, stop okay,” Eddie tries again. She’s been working herself up with the same shit for twenty minutes.

“We decided to do this babe,” Robin reminds her.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time!” Chrissy practically wails, “he saved our asses, it just seemed fair!”

“Our asses were in trouble in the first place because of him,” Eddie mumbles under his breath.

Robin Elbows him, “shut up, he said he didn’t know and I believe him. I told you, he’s a good soul.”

Eddie just rolls his eyes at her, “we’re not going to get caught,” Eddie says again, full of confidence. And he is, like, reasonably sure this is going to work. Steve’s buried in the middle of a crate full of spare parts, some of them engine parts so are pretty resistive to the scanner. Steve’s running on bare minimum power output. He’s basically nothing. Eddie’s scanned the crate from every angle at about two feet range; the port security are not going to pick up on him.

They’re just sneaking an unregistered, Mars built synth through customs, that’s all. Nothing exciting. Just a synth that One built with his bare hands. One who single handed caused a Synth uprising and murdered every single man, woman, and child on Mars and proceeded to build his own empire in the rubble.

Absolutely nothing to see here.

Eddie holds his fucking breath.

The coms button lights up, Chrissy instantly flicks it, and the most bored sounding voice in the universe asks Eddie if he has anything to declare.

“No, nothing.”

“Please check the list of prohibited materials. You must declare anything radioactive.”

“No,” Eddie says again, “nothing.”

“Docking gate four, please align with the scanner and hold position when indicated to do so.”

The line goes dead, Chrissy maneuvers the ship carefully, and Eddie is certain all of them are holding their breath. They’ve done this what feels like hundreds of times. Eddie is absolutely sure it has never, ever taken this long. The longer it goes on, the twitchier the girls get.

The coms light flashes, and the girls both turn to Eddie wide eyed. Eddie can’t blame them; he’s pretty sure he’s still holding his breath when he flicks the toggle, “please proceed to the gate,” Eddie flicks the switch back, exhaling and flopping down in his seat, the girls both let out breathy cheers and fall into each other.

“Oh fuck me that was terrible,” Eddie gets up to go and retrieve Steve out of the parts bin.

Eddie watches Steve carefully. He’s not doing anything, just standing in the sunlight. Head tilted back, like he can actually feel it on his skin. Sometimes he blinks his eyes open, looking down at his own hand, turning it in the light.

Chrissy appears next to Eddie, holding a bag out to him; sugary baked goodness, “oh that’s the good stuff,” Eddie thanks her, sugar powder smeared on her face.

“I fucking missed this,” She agrees.

Robin appears next, coffee for the three of them. Real, actual coffee. This is the closest Eddie ever gets to a religious experience.

“Okay, me and Chris really need to do the rounds,” Eddie nods, waves them off since his mouth is full, there’s several minutes of awkward hugs as everyone negotiates coffee cups and precious pastries.

“Where are you going?” Steve asks them, frowning. He looks so human, Eddie thinks to himself. They’re definitely going to be able to pass him off as human but...he doesn’t have any ID. Nothing. Steve doesn’t exist, which, considering they’re only planning to be home a week or so, shouldn’t cause too much of an issue.

Until they have to smuggle him right back out again.

Eddie hopes.

“We’ve been off world for like, months, we both need to go visit with our parents.” Chrissy says it off hand, “see you later, Steve. Bye Eddie.”

The girls are oblivious as they leave, picking their way along the busy street, bulging backpacks hoisted up high.

Eddie sees it though. It was fast, the change in Steve’s eyes. They’re normal again now, blink and you miss it kind of thing, but Eddie has no doubt something just happened.

“Steve? What was that?”

“Another file...presented itself.”

“A memory?” Eddie presses gently, standing closer together so they can speak quietly. There are plenty of people around them, everyone chattering and going on about their day; no ones paying attention to them. “What was it?”

“Children...there were children, they were...very important to me. Like I was their parent, somehow. I was...very protective of them,” Steve looks around, frowning. “I need to find them.”

Steve actually turns, like he’s going somewhere, “woah woah there,” Eddie grabs Steve’s hand, and Steve does stop. Eddie is under no illusion that Steve stopped because he wanted to. There’s no way Eddie could stop Steve; Steve could rip Eddie in half, like a wet sheet of paper. His hand is human warm in Eddie's. “Lets go to my place okay...we can talk about it and try to figure something out, we can’t just...go off. Do you even know where you would be going?”

“Hawkins, Indiana.”

“I...holy fuck. I wasn’t actually expecting an answer.”

Steve frowns, his lips pursed in a sweet, confused little curve, “neither was I, until I said it.”

“Shit...Steve. Come on.”

This is not normal for a Synth. Not any kind of Synth. This is just...Eddie doesn’t give a fuck about Steve’s weirdness, it doesn’t matter really, just how weird it is...Eddie’s got to get to the bottom of Steve’s memory errors, he figures the answers have to be there somewhere.

Eddie’s working in a bit of a make shift situation here. The ships in dry dock to be unloaded, refueled and have some minor repairs. Including the airlock which Eddie is praying no one asks any probing questions about.

“Okay, come and sit here,” it’s Eddie’s bed in his pokey apartment, and he has all the tools he could scrape together set out on a towel, but he thinks he has enough here to at least have a look. Now that Steve is willingly accessing the files, Eddie might be able to do a scan, at least.

Steve sits. Eddie goes to find one of the latches on Steve’s scalp, but stops himself, pulling back. It feels...invasive. Suddenly. Now that Steve is alive and awake in a way Eddie’s never come across with a Synth before. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” Steve tells him, “I don’t mind.”

“Okay…” Eddie goes back to it, noticing for the first time that Steve’s hair is ridiculously soft. Eddie cards his fingers through it, finding the little edge, and using his magnet to unhitch the plate, “pretty sure it’s this one.”

Steve hums in agreement, sitting still as Eddie leans over him, Eddie works for a few minutes, keeping an eye on the readouts on his visor; everything stays green and holding.

“Okay, lets look,” the handheld reader loads slowly; unsurprising really, when Eddie clocks how much data there is, “Christ,” he breathes, “these files are fucking massive. No wonder you’re having a problem processing them.”

“They do seem to affect other systems.”

Eddie hums, “this is mad...I don’t even recognize the format.” This is...Eddie lets it load, finally, looking at the file data, frowning, “this...this cannot be right. I need to send this to the girls.”

It takes a long few minutes, Eddie letting another file scan through while he’s waiting; this ones even bigger, which is just, insane.

Eddie’s communicator starts beeping in his pocket; he doesn’t bother plugging it in, just brings it up close enough to his ear that he can hear, “Eddie, where did you get this?”

“It’s from Steve,” Eddie tells her. He watches as the next one completes; it’s much the same, just even more complex.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Chris. I am absolutely fucking certain,” considering Eddie literally has it in the palm of his hand, “I just watched the file transfer myself. One hundred percent.”

Eddie doesn’t even blame Chrissy for questioning it, Eddie would have done the same.

“Eddie, those are brainwaves. This is a memory. Like a human memory.”

Eddie looks down, but Steve is already blinking back up at him. Steve does not look even one bit surprised.

“Chris, you and Robs want to go on a road trip?”

The facility is abandoned. Long abandoned. The doors are smashed in, the walls are bare, and every single thing has been stripped out of here. There’s just dust and trash in the corners of every dark room. Broken office chairs. Designs spray painted by vandals. Stripped wiring hanging forlornly from ceilings where the tiles have either been smashed or just fallen in on their own.

“Steve?” Eddie asks, creeping along behind him. There’s no one here, there hasn’t been for a long time, but the place feels haunted.

“We need to go down.”

“Down?”

“This isn’t it; there’s...something more.”

“Right,” Chrissy says confidently, even though she looks fucking terrified, “down it is.”

“I brought torches,” Robin offers.

Steve leads them past a bank of elevators; no power anyway. There’s a panel that Steve unceremoniously rips off the wall; Eddie couldn’t even see it until Steve did it, the camouflage was so good. Next goes the security pad; with no power, Steve just calmly rips the unit right out of the wall. The door next to it, he has to force.

It screeches and creeks, groaning loud enough that Eddie wants to cover his ears. It doesn’t want to go, but the metal itself eventually buckles under the force of Steve.

The stairwell is as dark and empty as everywhere else.

They creep down, torch beams flickering, only the soft sound of their feet on the steps.

It feels like they go down forever.

When Steve opens the door at the bottom, a soft light fills the space. It’s not bright; much closer to emergency lighting. There’s strips of it, either side of the hall.

Every room looks like a torture chamber to Eddie, despite the stripe of cheerfully flaking rainbow paint that decorates the hallway.

Things that look like dentist chairs with horrible, probing machinery hanging over it. Rooms with huge devices in that Eddie can’t even guess the purpose of, “Steve, what the fuck is this?” Chrissy whispers.

Steve pushes open a double door, and everyone freezes at the sight that greets them.

Eddie, for a brief second, thinks they’re human kids. They aren’t, even in the poor light he can see that their insides are machine; not human. The smears of colored Synth liquids are no less gruesome looking for it though.

In the doorway, Steve falls to his knees.

Steve was almost impossible to move; he weighs a fucking tonne. Between the three of them they manage to slide him out of the way of the door, far enough that they swing shut at least and they don’t have to stand there, looking at the ruins of whatever the hell this is.

“They made Synth kids,” Chrissy looks green, like she’s gonna’ throw chunks at any moment. Robin is sheet white, even in the shitty lighting, “what’s wrong with Steve?”

He kneels, frozen, his eyes white again.

“I think he’s processing memories,” Eddie hazards a guess. “We...need to wait it out, I think.”

“Jesus,” Chrissy’s teeth are chattering, her voice shaky, “couldn’t he have done this somewhere else?”

“Not sure he’s exactly controlling it babe,” Robin tells her, eyes wide enough Eddie can see the whites; Eddie’s pretty sure he probably looks the same.

“Kids,” Chrissy breathes again, “sick fucks.”

When Steve drags in a deep breath, they all jump, “Jesus Fucking fuck,” Robin hisses, Chrissy taking two big steps back away from him in surprise.

Steve’s...breathing. Loud and panicked which is just. He doesn’t even have fucking lungs, “Steve,” Eddie kneels in front of him, grabbing his shoulders, “Steve, you’re fine. Steve.”

Steve grips Eddie’s shoulders; not hard though, like he still knows Eddie’s just a breakable human. Eventually, he calms, seeming to slowly realize he doesn’t need to breathe, so it stops again.

“Steve?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “yeah, sorry,” Steve gets up, fluid and sure on his feet again, he easily pulls Eddie up with him.

“What did you see?”

Steve looks around, “not here,” he says.

“I fully fucking second that,” Chrissy adds, vehemently.

“Yeah, lets get the fuck out of here.”

But Steve hesitates. And then he goes back into the room of horrors.

“Steve,” Chrissy hisses.

“Where the fuck is he going? I don’t want to go back in there-” but the doors swing open again, Steve back already, he’s carrying another synth in his arms; this one doesn’t seem injured that Eddie can see.

She’s wearing white, her hair clipped short. She’s stiff in Eddie’s arms, the unnatural stillness of a deactivated Synth.

“Steve? Who is that?”

“This is Eleven. She’s coming with us.”

“Eleven as in the number that’s ten along from One?” Robin asks, panicked.

“Oh fuck me, this is such a bad idea,” Chrissy whispers, as she follows along.

“Steve,” Robins hisses, “Eleven is like, ten numbers up from One. Is it that kind of Eleven?”

“Eleven is nothing like Henry.”

“Well that’s reassuring,” Robin mutters.

“Ah fuck me, we’ve got to go back up all those stairs.”

Eddie just follows along quietly at the back, listening to the girls bitching, feeling like the ghosts of this place are trying to follow them out.

Eddie wouldn’t have thought twice about it before, but now...now it feels kind of odd. A little disrespectful maybe. Synths are artificial, they’re not people, they’re not even alive, so before meeting Steve, Eddie wouldn’t have given it a second thought.

Now, having a synth in the back of their transport, just laid out with a blanket thrown on top, feels kind of weird. Feels a little disrespectful.

They’re nearly an hour outside of Hawkins before the girls chatter starts up again, like they’re just now far enough away from that place that it’s okay again.

Naturally they’re full of questions, and Eddie listens carefully as he drives, “I think I remember a lot more now,” Steve is telling the girls.

“Yeah, like what?”

Steve frowns, Eddie watching him in the rear-view mirror. Next to him, Chrissy is twisted fully in her seat so she can see Steve, “I think I’m from Hawkins. I think I was made there. Henry...lied to me. He just overwrote my memories to try and...make me be on his side. I think Henry stole me from there.”

“You think he caused the errors?” Eddie asks, and Steve frowns, shaking his head.

“Henry was there? One?” Robin pipes up, “oh my God,” she breathes, and it feels like they all realize it at the same time, “One was built there too, right?”

“He wasn’t an anomaly, was he?” Chrissy follows the thought to it’s obvious conclusion, “that’s what they were trying to do there, isn’t it? True sentience.”

Steve nods.

“So...Mars? That was...actually someone's fault. Like One wasn’t just an accident, they built him that way and then…”

“They thought they had him under control. They thought he was...compliant, like me. Like the others. That’s why Henry killed them, he knew the kids might be able to stop him, one day. He waited until I was in maintenance. He must have waited and waited for me to be shut down before he did anything, physically I was the only one there who could have saved the kids.”

Robin reaches across the seat, squeezing Steve's hand. “it’s not your fault babe, okay? If you were being, fixed up or whatever, you couldn’t have known what he was going to do, right?”

“Why the fuck did they build them as kids? That’s just…” Chrissy doesn’t have the words.

“Messed up?” Robin supplies.

Steve frowns, “they were being transferred to new bodies as they grew up, they...had minds like mine. Memories. They were trying to make...people.” Steve shakes his head, “I’m not sure.”

“So why aren’t you a little kid?”

“I was built as an adult, like Henry. The kids memories are their own, just like with a human. They thought that would work better than what they did with me and Henry, but it would take longer; the kids had to grow. My memories are…” Steve frowns, again, twitching, eyes flashing briefly white before he blinks back to alertness, “from a person?”

“Holy shit,” and that revelation kills the conversation for quite a while as they all process everything. Mars was...well. Whoever was building these Synths, the government? The military? Both? Whoever the fuck it was, it’s their fault that One happened. Not the random programming glitch that they’ve successfully blamed all this time.

Mars is just...one giant cover up.

And Steve...holy shit, Steve was actually a person, a human being. That makes so much sense. None of it was programming, it’s just...Steve. All the mannerisms, the personality...it was real.

It still is real.

“We should...tell someone.” Eddie suggests, “people should know that One wasn’t an accident. Mars is their fault, whoever built him. It was deliberate, and they fucked up.”

“We wouldn’t be able to prove it though,” Chrissy reminds him, “Steve is our only evidence. And a creepy building in the middle of nowhere filled with dead Synths.”

Eddie sighs, she has a point. And if it really is one massive cover-up, the first thing they would do is eliminate Steve.

“Steve?” Eddie asks, unable to keep the question in any more, they make eye contact in the rear view, “what was your roll?”

Steve smiles faintly, “I’m the babysitter.”

Eddie dropped the girls off at Chrissy’s parents place and instructed them, very firmly, not to breathe a fucking word of this to anyone. They didn’t need telling, not really, but it still made Eddie feel better to say it.

Now they just need to sneak a Synth into Eddie’s apartment without drawing too much attention. Luckily Eddie’s in a cheap and shitty part of town, and most people keep their heads down and their business to themselves. It’s pretty late by the time they get back, and that’ll help.

Eddie had, briefly, considered going to Wayne but, fuck dragging him into all of this mess.

They have Eleven wrapped in a blanket, and Steve holds her vertically, one arm wrapped around her like she’s a piece of furniture. Eddie’s got his head on swivel, he tries to play it cool, but he’s failing miserably as he trails after Steve up the stairs. Anyone who sees him will know he’s guilty of something. The lights flicker, the bulb on the second landing gone completely.

Eddie nudges trash out of their way as they head along the hall.

Steve takes Eleven inside, laying her out on Eddie’s beat up two seater couch, her stiff body resting awkwardly, propped against a headrest.

Her hair is peach-fuzz, but whoever built her did just a good of a job as they did with Steve.

“Can you wake her up?”

“I can try,” Eddie’s exhausted, it’s been a long fucking day, but he retrieves his tools from where they are still laid out on the towel on the bed. It’s been long hours since Eddie found Steve’s memories, but Eddie’s tired enough that it feels like it’s been at least a week.

The panels are easier to find and open at least, thanks to the short hair.

Eddie wonders vaguely if that’s why they made it short.

“Wait,” Steve says suddenly, “we should check her for a transmitter. Henry must be aware of them, if that’s how he found me.”

“Sure,” Eddie gestures at her vaguely, there isn’t anyway Eddie’s going to be able to move her, but Steve turns her over. He moves her easily, but gently. With great care.

Steve lifts the back of her white shirt, indicating the place where Eddie should cut; the transmitter is there, exactly the same as with Steve. Eddie crushes it and drops the remains into the garbage disposal.

“Okay,” Eddie mutters to himself, getting a coffee, “okay we can do this,” he does his best to hype himself up, but he’s running on fumes. It really has been a hell of a long day, all the traveling, plus finding that place. It’s been a lot.

This morning, calling Chris, feels like it was simultaneously ten minutes ago, and about a thousand years.

Eddie tries to suppress another yawn, and fails, before pulling his visor down, Steve’s hand on his shoulder stops him, “this can wait.”

Eddie half shrugs, “she’s...your friend though, right?”

“Yes. And she still will be tomorrow.” Steve takes Eddie’s coffee away, “I can watch out for both of you tonight. You should sleep.”

Eddie could fight it, but he knows Steve’s right. Plus the idea of just going to bed sounds too incredible to resist.

“Okay, but first thing in the morning.”

Eddie blinks awake with gummy eyes. He’s still in bed, his room looks fine.

Obviously the government hasn’t ransacked his apartment and carried him off into the night. It’s all good. Eddie sighs, rolls over, and lets himself fall back into the nice place half between sleep and wake, cocooned in his warm bed covers.

He figures it’s maybe an hour later, Eddie still resting without sleeping, when there’s a gentle tapping on his bedroom door.

Eddie makes a quiet, ‘hmm?’ noise, figuring it’s Steve and that Steve will hear him.

Steve comes in with a steaming mug of coffee, which is just...outstanding really, and Eddie sits himself up more in bed to take it carefully, “thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Steve’s such an odd duck, for a Synth. It’s got to be all those human memories.

“You said One was like you, but the kids are growing their memories organically?” Eddie cradles the steaming mug close to his face, breathing the scent of coffee.

Steve doesn’t move, standing over Eddie, “yes.”

“Do you think that’s why he chose Henry? Do you think that was his name, before?”

“It’s possible, if I had a name before, I don’t remember it,” Steve turns, sitting on the edge of the bed where Eddie’s invited him. Eddie shifts a little further when the bed really dips, it’s easy to forget that Steve is fucking heavy, “I have been wondering,” Steve continues quietly, “if Henry’s memories...are from a bad person. And that’s why he and I are so different.”

“I think...that makes sense. I mean, you’re a good guy Steve. Even Robin says you have a good soul.”

Steve frowns, looking pensive, “but what if...I don’t. What if I turn out like him?”

Eddie downs the last of the coffee, ditching the empty mug on the bedside table, “pretty sure the fact that you’re worried about it means that you won’t.”

Steve nods, “thank you, Eddie.”

Part Three

[casside-sionnach]