Chapter Text
Strive’s ship really suited him.
It was small and lightweight, not much in terms of weaponry, but agile and fast. It made him the perfect scout, almost untouchable in a dogfight, and able to thread through gaps in asteroid belts that the others couldn’t manage. Not to mention, it had a large clear port through which he could view the endless sea of space, and the liberated stars twinkling back at him.
It suited him, and he never really thought much about it. Finding the ship had been a miracle for him, almost a kind of destiny, and he had never been one to think hard about things.
It certainly wasn’t the time to think about it now, facing off against a swarm of Void fighters. Strive dodged around between the blasts of friend and foe, space debris, and asteroids. Drawing fire, confusing the fighters, he had all his focus on the battle around him.
Until the end, with only two enemies still standing, a missile shot past Strive’s left and exploded into Phobos’ ship, and over the coms they heard his shout of pain before his signal cut out and the ship broke open.
Strive didn’t think. He threw his arms forward and his ship shot into the debris. He wove around the shrapnel as if he were maneuvering through a busy market, not piloting an entire ship. It was just so fluid, intuitive, he was aware of every bit of space the ship took up, and threaded between the metal without even thinking. All the while he searched, his gaze darting around looking looking-
There. Phobos’ form, hanging there among the debris, unmoving. Strive shot toward him, even as part of him realized he didn’t know what he was doing. It’s not like he could just open the door out here, but he needed to get Phobos out of dead space, into the ship, now-
And then, just like that, as he charged right into him, Phobos’ body phased right through the ship’s window, moving through the clear dome like water, leaving no hole as he entered. Inertia was a thing, though. Strive yelped and ducked as Phobos flew across the ship to hit the floor behind him, rolling to a stop. For a few seconds Strive could only stare wide-eyed over his shoulder at Phobos’ crumpled form, then he finally registered that his teammate was indeed out of dead space and with him in the ship.
“I got him,” Strive whispered, then whipped his head around to yell into the com. “I got him! I got him! He’s in my ship!”
A cacophony of voices called back. Meouch was cheering. Havve was making some frantic beeping noise, and Sung was trying to shout over them to ask about his condition.
“Um-!” Strive glanced back over his shoulder. Phobos had rolled over onto his back and lay there, breathing hard and clutching at his side. “H-He’s breathing. Phobos, are you hurt?” The other didn’t respond. Strive bit his lip in worry.
“Take him back to Mothership!” Sung ordered. “Brian, go with him. We’ll finish up here.”
Strive swallowed, then nodded. He veered the ship around in a hairpin turn and went shooting off back toward Mothership. Dimly aware of Brian’s ship in formation beside him, Strive darted through space. His ship was the fastest of the bunch, and Brian’s the second. They would get there in time. It would be fine. Phobos always had his helmet and suit on, anyway, so hopefully that gave some protection, right? Right??
“Strive.” He jumped as Brian’s voice came on the com. “Calm down.” That was all he said, the channels falling silent once more. Strive forced himself to take a deep breath, and let his shoulders ease down. Just a few more minutes until they made it back to Mothership.
000
Sung, Meouch, and Havve arrived soon after, with Havve towing the remains of Phobos’ ship in.
“The doctors say he’s going to be ok!” Strive told them as soon as they arrived at the medical bay. “He needs some rest, and treatments, but the damage doesn’t seem too bad.”
“Oh, thank the stars,” Sung sighed, then reached out and clapped his hand hard down on Strive’s shoulder. “Amazing work, Strive! Your quick actions saved the day!”
“Ah...” Strive gave a weak smile in return. “I’m just glad it worked.”
“That’s for sure.” Meouch grimaced and rubbed his jaw. “It would be downright embarrassing if that’s what took him down.”
“It was incredible!” Sung flashed a wide grin and spread his arms out. “I had no idea your ship could do that!”
“Well, um...” Strive clasped his hands together as his eyes darted to the side. “Actually, neither could I.”
“Oh?” Sung leaned back in surprise. “Ah yes, you mentioned that you found your ship after it crash landed. It’s hard to believe, sometimes! That thing seems to fit you perfectly.”
It did, and Strive was starting to realize how weird that was. He had seen the others’ ships, how they were full of dials and levers and lights. Strive just had his control points, where he put his hands, and told the ship what to do.
Sung had moved on to discuss Phobos’ condition and the state of his ship, and Meouch was commenting on changes in patrols for the time being. Strive was left alone with his thoughts, sinking away into himself as more and more questions appeared in his mind. Eventually Sung must have noticed him staring at the ground, eyebrows furrowed together, because he clapped him on the back and bade him to go get some rest. It had been a stressful time for him, after all. The others could take it from here. It was only when he mentioned it that Strive realized how exhausted he was. The burst of adrenaline and stress and worry had left his mind buzzing, and his knees weak. He could only give a clumsy nod before heading off to his room to sleep.
Yeah...best to think on it tomorrow.
000
“I think it’s salvageable!” Sung announced from up on the ladder, his body halfway into the wreckage of Phobos’ ship. He held one hand out behind him. “Brian! Toss me a 19mm!”
Brian grabbed the wrench, flipped it once in his hand, then sent it whizzing through the air squarely into Sung’s palm. Sung flicked it once in thank you before getting to work.
Down below, Strive watched them tinker with this and that, fixing wires, banging the metal frame back into place. That was how you fixed a ship, wasn’t it? A normal ship, anyway. A normal ship that you assembled from scratch, using bits and pieces and electricity.
Strive turned to his own ship, resting innocuously enough nearby. He remembered that day, how the ship had transformed under his touch, morphing and shifting like a living thing, taking form to create something that seemed to fit him exactly.
He also remembered the battle against the Void, when his ship had taken that hit, and it had hurt like he had been shot himself. After that battle, Strive had inspected his ship for damage, and found no mark. It had almost shut down in that battle, but once Strive himself had revived his willpower, it worked fine again, worked well enough to travel through the Void and make it to the other side.
Why...?
How...exactly did his ship work?
It was all so intuitive, Strive had never thought to- had never had to study it further. Phobos had told him once that he couldn’t believe Strive was new to flying, because he matched someone who had trained for years. Training? Strive would certainly need lessons if he had to fly someone else’s ship. He didn’t know what any of those buttons or devices did, but he had just assumed they were all made to fit each unique person.
He was starting to realize that wasn’t entirely the case, and an uneasy feeling was forming in his stomach. Maybe it was just his ship that was amazing, and he...he was just lucky; he didn’t deserve to be on the brigade with the other pilots.
“Oh, Strive!”
He looked up and found Sung peering down at him from the ladder. The other flashed him a salute with the wrench. “Ho there! Does your ship need some repairs as well? We can give you a hand while we’re here!”
“Oh, that’s ok!” Strive called back. “It’s fine!...I think.” His answer earned him a boisterous laugh from Sung.
“Well, make sure you keep an eye on it! A pilot’s ship is his life out there! Don’t let a single scratch go unnoticed!”
Strive nodded, then turned his attention back to his own ship. It never had any damage, even when he clipped asteroids or took hits. From what he could tell, it fixed itself, remade itself, from whatever technology it was made out of.
His shoulders slumped. His ship was his life, but there was so much he didn’t know.