Because this gets posted everywhere I go...
Yes, I'm quite proud of it. If anyone's interested, I'll post some more, but anyway, here's chapter one.
They're all Odd-characters, BTW, from my Oddworld fiction, that I've picked up and plugged into a new setting, so if you're interested in who and what there's some information flying around... Woo.
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Chapter One
Time goes by pretty slowly when you have nothing exciting to do.
Dauntless, the little dark hawk-shaped spacecraft, had been travelling now for a month or so, but not an awful lot had happened apart from equipment breakdowns. She was a sophisticated little vessel, but sadly not so sophisticated she was immune to circuitry burnouts and conduit failures… At least her dual-phase armour-plated hull was standing up to pretty much anything the universe could throw at it, so they weren’t spending all their time running round patching up holes.
Onyx, the self-styled engineer on board, was down in the engineering section, sitting cross-legged in a confusing muddle of tools and engine spares, of trying his damndest to tweak another few ounces of power out of the for-once-purring engines. He knew the power was in there somewhere, and so far as he could tell there weren’t any bleeds on the system… Like last week, they’d discovered a power-bleed into a piece of redundant equipment, and now they’d cleared that
Dauntless was doing a lot better… Even so, Onyx was sure she was still quite a way off maximum capacity, and was running system-check after system-check to try and figure out why. He sighed and absently wiped engine grease off his hands and onto his trousers, scratched under his chin with the long prehensile tentacles on his sharp face, contemplating his mess.
There was the low breath of sound from the door on the upper-level; Onyx glanced up, and watched as one of his shipmates walked uncomfortably in. Slate was gradually getting more and more stand-offish, recently, he mused, not entirely sure why… Although the relatively tall, dark blue male had never looked to be very comfortable round other people, and tended to be pretty down-in-the-mouth and cynical most of the time anyway, right now he just looked tired and miserable. Perhaps he was homesick, Onyx mused, scrunching up his nose in absent concern – but that didn’t explain why he was avoiding everyone…
Have to speak to him about it, sometime…
Slate padded about on the upper level, for a while, noting down values off the computer readouts, not apparently noticing Onyx on the deck below.
“Slate?” Onyx asked, idly. “Everything okay up there?”
Slate glanced over the somewhat mezzanine edge of the upper deck and looked down at him for a second, nodded mutely, flipped a page over on his pad, scribbled something and managed to get halfway to the door before Onyx called out to him again.
“What?” he asked, looking back over his shoulder.
“You okay…?” the charcoal dark creature asked, gently.
“Yes, fine, why?”
“You’re looking preoccupied.”
Slate managed to force a smile, but his features were taut, crimped. “Just puzzling over our engine problems, nothing to worry about…” and then he was gone, before Onyx could challenge him further.
It was getting late; ‘late’ – and time in general – was, Onyx guessed, only relative, out here in space, but it was a lot easier on his psyche if he could plan his day around a clock. He’d had no luck with his engines, and was going back to his cabin, to have a shower and get all the uncomfortable grease off his skin, before heading to the kitchen to see what was available for supper.
He noticed the soft
tac-tac-tac coming from Slate’s cabin as he passed – he was typing away at his computer terminal, Onyx guessed, perhaps doing some sort of calculation to improve the efficiency of some system or another…
Does he ever stop working? he mused
Onyx stood outside and listened for a while – the
tac-tac-tac didn’t show any signs of slowing, at all… he put out a hand and pressed the buzzer.
The tapping paused. “Who’s that?”
“Only me,” Onyx leaned an ear close to the door. “You busy?”
“Not busy, but I’d still rather not have company,” came the curt reply, and the tapping resumed.
Onyx frowned; “What are you doing in there, anyway?”
“Just working.”
“You can stop sometimes, you know…”
No reply.
Onyx debated with himself for a minute or two, then put out a hand and thumbed the door control. Slate shot him a reproachful glare as the door opened, but quickly buried himself back in his computer.
“You like working in the dark, or something?” Onyx asked, standing in the doorway; the lighting in his shipmate’s room was so low it was barely on, most of the light coming from the bright screen in front of him.
“It’s calming,” Slate replied, eyes on his screen but fingers no longer tapping. “Was there a problem?”
“N-o…” Onyx measured his words carefully. “Not with me. That was what I came to ask
you, actually.”
“Well, I’m fine. Can I get on now?”
“Slate…” Onyx sighed. “You don’t
look fine, you know.”
Slate didn't look up; the readout on his screen threw eerie patterns across his face and shot green glints into his eyes. For a second, he remained silent, then; “Onyx… leave me alone, please…” he said, softly, stiltedly.
"No." Onyx sighed, and folded his arms, remained in the doorway;
crunch time, his pessimism told him, snidely,
Now he’ll either spill the beans or decide to never speak to you ever again. “I’m not leaving you alone,” he said, solemnly. “Until you start to tell me why you’re avoiding everyone.”
Slate glanced up for only the barest of seconds, then leaned back over his computer and started to
tac-tac-tac again. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes it does! Frack, we’ve only been out here for a month or so; if you’re like this
now, you’ll end up locking yourself in your cabin and never coming out ever again at the end of next month…!” He caught the back of Slate’s chair and with a rough push spun him away from his terminal. “Now, come on…” he folded his arms, and tried not to look so bullish and bossy his shipmate would clam right up and never speak to him again. “I want to know why you’re so miserable, all of a sudden...”
“It doesn’t matter…” Slate replied, huskily, hands in his lap, refusing to meet the elder creature’s solemn pale yellow-amber eyes; his chair had drifted backwards into the wall and come to a stop where they were conveniently facing each other.
“Yes it
does,” Onyx insisted. “If it’s something someone’s done wrong, or to upset you, then you’ve got to tell us…!”
“No-one’s done anything,” Slate shook his head and hugged his arms round himself. “And no-one’s upset me. Not deliberately.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Come on, Slate, you’ve got to tell us
something… And… well, look, if we don’t know what’s hurting you we’re going to end up doing it again…” he put a hand on Slate’s shoulder, but the young male just twisted his chair away. “Is it to do with me?”
Slate was silent.
“It is, isn’t it?” Onyx sighed, faintly.
“No, no, it’s not just you…” Slate cut in, quickly – too quickly – and glanced up at him, but realised his mistake, lost his nerve and looked away again, swallowing thickly, when Onyx gave him a probing look.
“Not just me?” Onyx echoed. "So who else?"
"Look, Onyx, will you just leave me alone…?" Slate pleaded, faintly, managing to meet his gaze. "It really isn't important. I'm… probably just being stupid about nothing."
Onyx just stood silent for a few seconds. "You sure?"
"Yeah. I just need..." he took a shaky breath. "Need to sort my feelings out."
"Feelings, huh?" Onyx nodded, knowingly. "Lena or Ivy?"
Slate jerked his head up. "Wha-…?"
"Who's the reason for the unrequited love?”
“It- no, no-one! Just shut up and leave me alone!” Slate turned back to his computer, looking hurt at being caught out.
“You could just tell them, whoever it is,” Onyx suggested, gently.
“And what would be the point in that?” Slate challenged, miserably. “I don’t want to go causing a rift and they’re out of
my reach anyway. Just let me get on with my feelings on my own, okay?”
“Slate,” Onyx took a breath. “Look, if it’s Ivy… her and me, we’re not together. Never have been, not really. Just… tell her. If you feel something for her, tell her!”
“Go away, Onyx,” Slate went back to his tapping. “Please.”
Onyx sighed. “All right,” he replied, beaten. “All right, I’m going. Just… At least think about what I said, okay…?”
“Yeah,” Slate replied, distantly, starting to
tac-tac-tac again.
Onyx turned back out of the doorway and let it glide shut behind him; he leaned back against the door and rubbed his temples, feeling exhausted for some reason… Maybe a shower would wake him up a bit…
The kitchen looked deserted when Onyx finally trailed in, sometime close to midnight. He’d developed a headache shortly after speaking to Slate, and now it felt like someone was playing a bass drum in his temples… he didn’t fancy eating, but maybe a coffee would help, he’d read somewhere caffeine sped up the time it took for painkillers to work…
"You're looking worried," a voice commented, matter-of-factly, as he walked across the room to sideboard with the kettle.
Onyx glanced up at the speaker; Ivy sat in one of the coarse armchairs at the side of the room, her feet curled up on the seat, a book in her hands. Her style of 'reading' usually made the others laugh, as it was entirely possible for her to read an entire novel in bare minutes, and yet she'd deliberately take ten minutes to read a page – ‘to get all the meaning out of it’, she said. Onyx didn't feel like laughing, right now, though. "Worried?" he queried, filling the kettle and plugging it in.
"Preoccupied," she clarified, closing the book. "Are we still having trouble with the systems…?"
"For once," he collapsed into the nearest chair and sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It's not
Dauntless. It's Slate, today."
"He's unwell?" she sat forward a little, cocked her head.
"Not so far as I can tell – well, not unwell in the classic sense – he's… I don't know. Looks homesick. Or lovesick. One of the two...” He closed his eyes. “He won’t talk to me, though.”
“Would he talk to me, do you suppose?” she asked, softly.
Onyx nodded. “He might, but, well…” he sighed, softly. "Ivy…" he looked up, met her considering pale blue gaze. "I think… that he might want to say something to you, but is too shy to say it."
She blinked. “I don’t follow you.”
“Just something he said – well, it was more the way he said it, but… I think he’s in love.”
“And you think it’s with me?” a tiny smile tugged at the side of her mouth. “I’m flattered, but… I don’t think
I deserve his affections…”
“I could be wrong, and I probably am,” Onyx hurriedly admitted, not wanting to get her hopes up if he’d – as was usual – got the wrong end of the stick. He leaned forward and laced his fingers, hands stuck out in front of him. “It just… seems… likely. Of course, he might have a crush on Lena which is why he’s so skittish, but… I don’t know what the hell to say to him, now.”
“What
did you say?”
“Just… if he felt something for you to tell you.”
“You suspect he considers us a pair, still…?”
Onyx nodded, heard the kettle boil and the
clic as it switched itself off, but didn’t feel motivated to get up and make his coffee, any more. “I doubt he’ll say anything to anyone unless someone else brings the subject up,” he grumbled, morosely. “Now I see why so few of us go into counselling…” He looked up at her; “You won’t tell him I told you, will you…?”
She smiled and shook her head. “No. I won’t breathe a word to anyone.”
The next few days were those on-edge horrible sort of days, the sort where you’re waiting for something to happen but it doesn’t. Good to her word, Ivy acted as though nothing had happened, and certainly didn’t betray any of Onyx’s suspicions. Surprising both her and Onyx, though, it was Onyx that Slate finally called, saying he wanted to talk.
Slate was for once not sat at his computer when Onyx walked in and perched on the sideboard just inside the door.
“You wanted to talk?” Onyx suggested.
Slate nodded, dragged his gaze up from the thin carpet and met his friend’s eyes with a struggle. “I… was thinking about what you said to me the other evening,” he said, stiltedly. “But… it’s… kind of hard to explain,” he replied, softly; the back of his throat felt tight, and burning with the emotion he was trying hard to keep down. “Hard to even
start to explain… I don’t want to make any rifts, not with my silly problems…” he waved his hands and looked away again. “Really, this was a silly idea of mine, it doesn’t matter. I’ll… speak to you later, I guess…”
“It is about me and Ivy, isn’t it?” Onyx sighed. “Slate, I’ve already told you a dozen times we’re not together, never
really have been…”
“I know.”
“So what’s stopping you telling her your feelings?”
“Because it’s not her,” his words were strangling in his throat, and he finally summoned the courage to look Onyx in the eye; his own eyes were bright with tears, only partly of humiliation. He rushed the words out before he lost his nerve. “It’s not her, it’s you.”
"Ride the Avocet", Dauntless fiction #1
