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“AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”
The scream tore through the cockpit, echoing off the paint-flecked metal and glass to create a truly ear-piercing cacophony. Huaisang didn’t even twitch, which was just as well since he was painting his toenails with his foot propped on the control panel.
“Pipa, you can scream all you want, I’m not giving you any more juunuts.” He had no idea when the parrot had learned to screech like that, since his brother’s theory that it was mimicking the sound he himself made when Mingjue sent him a picture of an eel clearly had no merit. “Shoo, off with you.”
“AHHH!” Pipa screeched to make sure he knew his tight-fistedness wasn’t appreciated, but took off from one of the many perches bolted around the craft to join the others in the transparent dome on the top of the ship. Huaisang was happy to dedicate that little room to the creatures; he appreciated the beauty of space as much as the next artist, but he preferred to do it down here where he could multitask. His dashboard was always buzzing with intercepted comms and illegal stream stations; Director Nie didn’t feel right when he wasn’t plugged in to his web of interstellar information. Mingjue often speculated that Huaisang slept in his control room—though, since Huaisang always packed the bedding back in his sleeping room before he docked, the man had no proof.
With a sigh Huaisang capped his nail polish—just in time to throw the bottle halfway across the room in shock when a heavily distorted but unmistakable voice came crackling from his scanner. It crashed into a stack of canvases and sent the bundle of brushes atop clattering to the ground, making Huaisang cringe and briefly drowning out the unintelligible voice. Once the avalanche had settled Huaisang forced himself to relax, shaking out his arms. He swung around on his seat and gestured for the scanner to open its controls. With expert efficiency Huaisang dialed the sound in, filtering the static until the crackles revolved into words.
“—an anyone hear me? This is Purple Lightning requesting emergency assistance, if anyone picks this up I’m—”
“Hello?” Huaisang interrupted, wanting to alleviate the stress in the person’s voice as quickly as possible. “This is Songbird , I read you.”
“Oh thank fuck, ” the voice said, relief clear despite the remaining distortion. “My ship’s all fucked up and I have next to no power reserves. I can’t fly anywhere, although I can keep life support on for a while. How big are you, would you be able to pick me up? Purple ’s a class delta.”
“There’s no way I can dink you, but I might still be able to help. What are your coordinates?”
The voice replied, repeating itself twice before Huaisang was sure he had it right. “Okay, give me a second.” He spun away from the scanner to one of his screens, fingers flying as he searched through the lines of code flitting past almost too fast to read.
“Right, I might have something,” he said urgently, buzzing with excitement. “When you say you can’t fly, do you mean not at all? Or could you get a few clicks?”
“I could, but after that I’d be totally done. If an asteroid came at me I wouldn’t have the juice to dodge.”
“That won’t be a problem, my stranded friend. Scoot yourself over to 006Δ-25϶-ఇ90 and turn off your pinger.”
“What? Why? I told you, if something comes at me—”
Huaisang pouted, and made sure it was clear in his voice. “Don’t you trust me?”
It was hard to tell through the snow, but Huaisang thought the voice sounded a little sardonic when it replied “why wouldn’t I trust you, unidentified disembodied voice?”
“No idea,” Huaisang replied primly. “I’m very trustworthy. Especially to people choosing between my advice and certain death.”
“...well I can’t argue with that.” It could have been static but Huaisang thought he sighed. “Alright, fuck it. Here goes nothing I guess.” The voice went silent while the person belonging to it presumably piloted their craft to the specified location. The coordinates Huaisang had given him were very close indeed, and within ten minutes the person was back.
“Okay, I’m here, and collision avoidance is off. Shit. What exactly is your plan here?”
“There’ll be a ring sweeper heading by that spot in twelve hours, you should be easily able to get yourself scooped up. It’ll give you a lift to the port on Sora 2W. Just keep your head down and pretend you’re debris for ten days. I figure you’d rather pay the fine for stowing away than die alone in the void, right?”
“...right,” the voice agreed faintly. “Really? How the hell did you know that?”
“I have my ways,” Huaisang said mysteriously.
“Clearly. Shit. When is the thing going to reach me? Twelve hours?”
“Exactly 11.72 hours.”
“...and I guess I’ll just have to trust you on that one too.”
“Mmhmm.”
“Okay, fuck. Well I’ve been awake for two cycles now and fearing for my life for half of that, so I am going to go and sleep for eleven and a half hours.”
“Oh.” Huaisang tried not to feel too disappointed by this. “I guess that’s sensible.”
The voice huffed. “Yeah. Listen, thank you. Even if you’re just messing with me for kicks, at least I’m going to die better rested.”
“Hey, I am an asshole, but not that kind.”
The person snorted. “If you say so. Bye, asshole.”
“Wait,” Huaisang said. “What’s your name?”
“Why?” The voice asked in genuine confusion.
“I just want to know! What if you die before the sweeper picks you up; wouldn’t you rather go knowing someone out there knows your name and what happened to you?”
“...I thought you said I wasn’t going to die.”
“I’m not saying it’s impossible! What if you get hit by a rock!”
“I...am going the fuck to sleep.”
“No! You can't, I'll die of curiosity!! You’re the one who’s supposed to be dying here!”
“I thought you said I wasn’t dying! ”
“HYPOTHETICALLY!”
“It’s Jiang Cheng!” The voice exclaimed, and then went silent as if surprised by its own words. A very long sigh crackled through the speaker. Huaisang grinned.
“Nice to meet you Jiang Cheng,” Huaisang replied. “I’m Nie Huaisang.
*
“You’re going to WHAT!”
“Would you relax? I’ve done this before.”
“There is. No way. You have spliced your comms into the system of a star sweeper from inside its belly while concealing your presence from the crew.”
“Well, not exactly. But similar. I’m sick of you making me repeat myself, and annoying as you are there isn’t anything else to do with my ship on emergency power except listen to you. Ow, fuck.”
“Jiang Cheng?!”
“Calm down, I just scratched myself on the panel. The edges are sharp as fuck, ow. ”
“I don’t think they designed them with the assumption that human arms were going to be reaching through them!”
“Yeah yeah—oh, did that do it?”
Suddenly the crackly voice which had been Huaisang’s companion for the past two days was gone, replaced by a smooth baritone which made the hairs on Huaisang’s arms stand up. After growing accustomed to the barely intelligible static the sudden sound of a man speaking directly into his ear startled him with its intimacy.
“Holy shit.”
“It worked?”
“Yeah, hang on, wow. You sound so hot, what the fuck.”
“Wh—I—what?”
“Your voice is really hot. Are you good-looking?”
“What? I—I don’t know! Why?!”
“No need to be modest,” Huaisang cajoled. “Come on, tell me.”
Every flustered inflection of Jiang Cheng’s voice was now crystal clear for Huaisang’s listening pleasure. “Huaisang! What the hell!”
“Come ooooon, tell me. Tell me or I’ll play Yrtuvian jazz through the comms for the rest of your trip.”
“ Asshole, what the hell? Fuck, I really don’t know, Huaisang. Don’t deafen me, that’s just cruel.”
“Hmm,” Huaisang said, stroking his chin because he was method. “You don’t know, huh?”
“I really don’t.”
Huaisang grinned. “That means ‘yes’ for sure. You just don't want to admit it, that’s fine, I understand. Hey, describe yourself.”
“I—how? No!”
“No no, I can’t just not have a mental picture of you. What’s the feature people comment on the most?”
“...my...my cheekbones?”
“Oh yeah,” he said with smug satisfaction. “You’re definitely hot.”
*
“Ughhhhhhhh.”
“What?”
“UGHHHHHH.”
“Huaisang, what.”
“Ugh.”
“You called me. If you didn’t want to talk about it you could have not done that. Is it still an option?”
“Ugh. Brothers.”
“Oh. Yeah, okay.”
“So you know?”
“I know.”
“Mine just called me. He was all ‘Huaisang when are you going to visit, have you been eating, zipping between systems drawing nebulae isn’t a career you know’ like he doesn’t have enough credits to keep me in parrots and paint until I was just a brain in a jar.”
“...maybe I don’t know.”
“Hmm?”
“My brother mostly talks in explicit detail about his husband’s thighs until I hang up on him.”
“God, I wish that was da-ge’s problem. Can we trade?”
“If you figure out a way to swing that, I’m up for it.”
*
“Wait, so—so, let me see if I have this straight.”
“Uhuh.”
“You have been all over the known universe.”
“Sure have.”
“Had several close calls with death.”
“Yep.”
“And your biggest fear. Is fish? ”
“Creepy bastards don’t have eyelids .”
“Neither do lots of animals!”
“Yeah, but it’s okay when other animals do it!”
“That’s not how that works!”
“My phobia, my rules.”
“Just, any kind of fish?”
“Oh no, only Terran fish. What was the point of leaving homeworld if we were going to bring the worst thing about it with us?! Questions that keep me up at night.”
“...I don’t understand you, Huaisang.”
“Few do.”
*
“God, fuck, I really have four more days of this?”
“Unfortunately. What, are you getting sick of my company already?”
“That would imply I ever desired it in the first place.”
“Harsh. You’re speaking to your saviour, you know.”
“Against my will.”
“What’s that? I can’t hear you over the sound of all that static you voluntarily cleared up.”
“Fuck off.”
“But really, what did you mean?”
“NutraGel.”
“Oh. Ick. Yeah.”
“I’m genuinely not sure I wouldn't rather starve. I might survive four days without ingesting anything. And even if it killed me it’d get me a reprieve from your nattering.”
“‘Nattering’? What are you, my long-dead grandma? Just for that, I’m going to tell you exactly what I had for lunch today.”
“Oh shit. Huaisang, I didn’t mean it, don’t do this to me—”
“Rehydrated dumplings in sour soup, with fresh chili from my greenhouse—”
“Oh you bastard!” Jiang Cheng swore. “Fuck you fuck you fuck you, fuck you so much Huaisang, god damn it.”
“And crystalised blackmelon for dessert.”
“I hate you so much Huaisang, if we ever meet I’ll beat you to death with a tube of Nute I swear it on my mother’s grave.”
“Was she a good cook?”
“What? Who?”
“Your mother!”
“Oh. No idea, I certainly never saw her do it. My sister though...she’s the best cook in the quadrant. She makes this soup, it’s one of the traditional foods in the Yunmeng system, and Huaisang I swear the smell of it alone could wake the dead it’s so good.”
“You sound wistful. Has it been a while?”
“Too long. I haven’t seen my sister in almost a year.”
“Oh. Well, I bet when you do meet up again she’ll make you enough soup to make up for your current deprivation.”
“...yeah.”
“Not sure any Yunmeng soup could rival the garlic toast I’m eating right now though.”
“Huaisang I will murder you one day.”
*
Huaisang didn’t know why he hadn’t told Jiang Cheng he was heading for the same port as the sweeper. Maybe a part of him wanted to see the look on his face when he realised he’d have to make good on his threat to kill him with meal replacement rations.
Maybe a part of him was afraid Jiang Cheng wouldn’t want that.
He hadn’t wanted to ruin the time they had left over the comms if that was the case. Without anything else to do Jiang Cheng had ended up spending all his time on the line to Huaisang, and Huaisang had grown used to talking. They’d discussed their families and childhoods, their likes and dislikes, pretty much any thought that popped into Huiasang’s head. Even when they weren’t talking the comm stayed open, the two just enjoying knowing someone was there. Huaisang was good at bulling people into being friends with him, but even he was surprised how quickly they’d clicked. He was going to miss Jiang Cheng’s grumpy profanity when it was no longer his constant companion. He sighed and opened the commlink.
“You awake sleepyhead?”
“I’m sorry? Which one of us sleeps ten hours every cycle?”
“Hey, don’t be mean to me first thing in the morning, I have good news.”
“Okay?” Jiang Cheng said and Huaisang didn’t appreciate how wary he sounded.
“You’re going to reach port in about six hours!”
“Shit, really? I wasn’t sure I had the day right. There’s no day cycle in this hold you know.”
“I know,” Huaisang said, not without sympathy. Being stuck in total darkness for ten days would be enough to drive anyone crazy, and Jiang Cheng seemed like someone who did poorly with idleness. “It’ll be over soon though! Sora 2W has five suns, so you can make up for your time in there in just two days!”
“That’s not how that works, Huaisang,” Jiang Cheng said dryly. “But I will be happy to be planetside.”
“What’s the first thing you’ll do?”
“After landing? Stretch my legs I guess. Find something to eat with actual texture. Just...be outside.”
“Those sound very achievable. Da-ge would be proud of your expectation management.”
Jiang Cheng snorted, but Huaisang had a sneaking suspicion he was pleased.
They chatted amiably for the next several hours, neither of them acknowledging that this could be their last conversation. Huaisang had long grown antsy when the spaceport came into view, but he joined the virtual queue and waited well beyond the atmosphere for his turn to dock. He strained his eyes for a city-sized sweeper waiting with him, but there were about six just within his line of sight. He bit his lip.
“Oh,” Jiang Cheng said eventually. “We just entered atmo.” Huaisang couldn’t get a read on his voice.
“Nice,” Huaisang replied awkwardly, not sure what to say. He was still an hour away from landing, but it would take a while for Jiang Cheng to get picked up once he pinged the sweeper crew.
There was only silence for a long time after that, and Huaisang let it sit. He wondered how Jiang Cheng would say goodbye. He wondered how he’d react when they met.
“Well.” Jiang Cheng finally spoke. “They’re almost here. I’ll be out of this tin can in a minute.”
“Congratulations on exiting the cold metal womb of interstellar sanitation.”
“Thank you for putting that in the worst way possible, it really drives home how grateful I am to escape this situation.”
“Aw, you love me,” Huaisang teased, covering his muddled feelings with jocularity. “Admit it, you’ll miss me when I’m gone.”
“Well, it’s not like I can’t still call you sometimes,” Jiang Cheng huffed, trying to sound dismissive and falling a little closer to unsure.
“Duh, of course you can,” Huaisang said immediately. “If you don’t I won’t switch brothers with you.” The dashboard blipped, signaling Huaisang to come in to land. He maneuvered the craft planetside with less than a quarter of his attention.
“Well I can’t let you back out of that deal,” Jiang Cheng replied with genuine warmth undermining his wry tone.
“Guess you’ll just have to call me.”
“Guess so.” There was a thud from the other end of the line, and then a beep. “They’ve found me,” Jiang Cheng said.
“Oh.”
“Huaisang.”
“Yeah?” The landing was a little bumpy. Mr Pennyfeathers didn’t appreciate it.
“Thanks for saving my ass.”
“You’re welcome, Jiang Cheng.”
“Bye, Huaisang.” Did he sound wistful? Or was Huaisang just projecting?
“Bye.” The line clicked off for the first time in days. Huaisang ignored how it felt like a blow to the gut and ripped his headset off, almost taking a few earrings with it. He stumbled out of his chair, tripping over a pillow and almost imprinting his face into a still-wet painting propped on the wall. He popped out of the hatch like a cork from a bottle, thanking the technological gods he didn’t have to log his presence or pay for the hanger space manually.
The port was bustling with people on that sunny morning, so it was easy enough to get directions to the latest sweeper to dock. The skyfront was loud and bright, and filled with carts manned by vendors of every species, selling a vast range of wares to the new arrivals. Once he had a direction Huaisang broke into a sprint, dashing past colourful clothing stalls, behind melodious music performances, through clouds of delicious smells. He skidded to a stop in front of a busy fortune-teller’s cart, searching through the crowd of crewmen disembarking from the towering sweeper before him. Huaisang couldn’t see Jiang Cheng—or maybe he could, he didn’t know what he looked like— so ignoring his racing heart he sucked in a deep breath and cupped his hands around his mouth.
“ JIANG CHEEEENG!”
A man walking away from him stilled. Huaisang could only see the back of his purple shirt, his cropped hair. Slowly, he turned.
“Huaisang?”
They stared at each other across the handful of metres separating them. Huaisang felt his hands tremble, his whole body filled with a strange buzzing electricity. The man had sharp bronze eyes, strong shoulders, a narrow waist. His lips were slightly parted as he stared at Huaisang in shock. He blinked.
“You weren’t kidding about your cheekbones,” Huaisang blurted, and closed his mouth with a click. For the first time since they’d met he didn’t feel in control of his tongue.
But, purely by accident, he seemed to have stumbled onto the right thing to say. Jiang Cheng’s shoulders relaxed, and he rolled his eyes. Huaisang had never seen him do that before, but it somehow felt intensely familiar nonetheless.
“Hey,” he said, finding himself back on sure ground. “I saw a stall which sells Yunmeng cuisine a ways back there, right in a sunbeam. I can’t speak to the quality of their soup, but would you like to try it with me anyway?”
The cheekbones were even more stunning when he smiled.