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2174, the SSV Shanghai
Kaidan walked through the corridors of the Shanghai with his eyes slitted, trying to quell the tracers racing across his vision. There'd been a little lounge down here, he was sure of it, and if he was very, very lucky—
Damn.
The room was occupied. A junior officer with pilot’s wings on his shoulder was sitting at the little table in the corner. His omnitool band was spread on the table, and he was working the display with both hands, hunched forward and peering at it from under a cap. The bright light from the tool sent spikes through Kaidan’s skull — but the room was still darker than the medbay, and quieter than his bunk in the marine junior officers' cabin.
“D’you mind if I…”
The man in the hat shrugged, not looking away from his work. “It’s public space.”
Kaidan sat down on the one lounger, stretched out his legs, and closed his eyes. After five minutes the feeling of blessed relief had faded, and the discomforts started creeping back in. He needed to lie quiet and still, but it was uncomfortable with a total stranger in the room. Especially if he had to turn his back to him, to keep from catching the omnitool glare out of the corner of his eye. He tried to settle, but he couldn’t. He rolled back onto his back.
After a few minutes he felt the weight of the other man’s regard.
“You got a snorer down in marine land?” the pilot asked.
“Huh? Oh,” Kaidan took a deep breath, trying to make his brain spit up words. The man had asked quietly, but it still hurt. “Not snoring,” he fished for a delicate way to say Carrera and Hertz were having moaning sex two bunks over, then decided he didn’t need to be delicate if they weren’t. “Fucking.”
He listened to his own words, and the other man’s silence. Maybe that hadn’t come out right. “Not me. Other people. Noisy.”
God, he didn’t want to talk. It was even worse listening to his own voice than someone else's. His was right there in his skull with him.
The pilot snorted. “Show offs. Bone in a supply closet or something, crew quarters is just rude.”
Kaidan sighed an agreement. “So.” He waved his hand vaguely in front of his closed eyes, then winced at the movement. No more talking, please. “Gon’ be quiet. Sorry. Migraine. Medbay… too bright.”
He rolled his head toward the wall. White flag delivered, I retreat from the conversation.
There was a small, considering sound from the other corner, then rustling fabric, and a few soft thumps.
The glow that kept creeping in behind Kaidan’s eyelids dimmed.
He sank into the darkness, breathing longer and easier than it had been, the winds of his internal storm slackening by a few knots. He rode it for a while, thankful — but curiosity finally got the better of him. He rolled his head back over and cracked one eyelid.
A barricade of chair cushions blocked the omnitool screen from Kaidan’s view, leaving only a soft glow around the edges. Somewhere behind it were the quiet sounds of the pilot, back at work.
———
Kaidan stretched. It didn’t hurt. He opened his eyes, slowly, and that didn’t hurt, either. He sat up, slowly. So far, so good. Tentatively, he checked the time on his omnitool, with the display on the dimmest setting. The readout surprised him.
“Good grief — three hours? I can’t believe no one else came in here.”
“Oh, someone tried.” The pilot said from the corner. He pushed the wall of cushions aside. “Didn’t you hear?”
No. Kaidan must have actually fallen asleep. “What d’you mean, tried?”
“I threatened to pee in his socks.”
“You what?!”
A white grin flashed in the dimness. “Surprised him, too!”
Kaidan chuckled.
“Shock’s a totally valid tactic,” the pilot continued smugly. “Even you marines learn about that. You’ve just got to consider all the potential applications.”
“Still, three hours, almost alone, on a ship. Wow.”
“I’m telling you. Tactics.”
“Ha.” Kaidan stretched. “I’m Kaidan, by the way. Have you been working this whole time?”
The pilot tapped his name tag. “Moreau. Jeff, or Joker, whatever. And yeah. I do have snorers in crew quarters. And insomnia. Might as well make progress on this cert.”
“What course?”
“Astrogation.” Teeth flashed white in the dim again. “So I still know where I’m going, even if someone else fucks up.”
“That’s nice to know, since I’m probably one of the passengers.” He remembered the jouncing shuttle drop earlier that day, schooled his voice neutral, and asked “Did you fly us down this morning?”
“Please.” Moreau scowled. “If it was me, you wouldn’t have had such a bumpy ride. That drop was crap.”
Nice to not have to be nice about it. The pilot turned back to his screen and Kaidan scanned the messages he’d missed while napping. His eye snagged on something from Carrera.
“Damn.” I’m such an idiot. He just hadn’t wanted to cause a fuss.
Moreau looked over at him, questioning.
“I just realized,” Kaidan said, “That I should’ve sent Carerra and Hertz up here, then the rest of us could’ve used our racks like they’re intended.”
The pilot glared at him. “If you send your fuckbunnies to my favorite quiet spot, I will pee in your socks.”
Kaidan held up his hands. “They’re not my fuckbunnies. And I get it. Promise.” He smiled. “I will never point anyone here.”
“Good.”
“That way I can still use it.”
A shrug.
“Without worrying about my socks.”
The pilot grinned. “Eh, why not. The medbay is shit for resting in, anyway.”