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Corporal Deming Hideaki Chang knew, he knew , that he had won the lottery when it came to room assignments. Travis Mayweather didn't snore, or smoke weed, or touch stuff that wasn't his, or deliberately try to make his life hell, in contrast to the horror stories Hideaki had heard from the other MACOs rooming with Fleeters. Mayweather was a great guy. Easy-going. Friendly. Not to mention the best pilot on the ship. It was gracious of Mayweather to share his living space with Hideaki, an outsider, without complaint.
"Hey, Deming, how different do you think those Xindi ships handle? I wonder how many limbs I'd need to fly one of them." Hideaki gritted his teeth. Travis Mayweather was a great guy, he reminded himself. He was friendly. He was… too friendly. Hideaki didn't get it. The Fleeters liked the MACOs about as much as an extra toe on the forehead. The feeling, frankly, was mutual. The MACOs were here to clean up the Fleeter's messes. Of which there were too many. Peace was uneasy and kept by neither side talking to the other more than necessary, at least until the next spat between the Major and Lieutenant Reed.
"I've always thought that a ship was a ship, but these are like nothing I've ever seen before." Mayweather continued, unbothered, when Hideaki stayed silent. "I guess it makes sense. Divergent evolution and all that. But what's it like to pilot a ship from underwater? I can't imagine it." Hideaki didn't get Mayweather. At first he thought the young man was making extra effort to socialize with the poor unloved MACO, a pity project. But as he'd spent more time with Mayweather (sort of inevitable when you shared a room with someone), he slowly realized that the pilot was just a genuinely nice person. He would talk to anybody. Even a MACO who sat silently in his bunk and polished his weapons. And he'd talk about anything. The day's events, the food Chef was serving, weird tales from life on a cargo ship that were horrifying if they were true, mediocre ghost stories. The weather. There wasn't any weather in space, but that didn't stop Travis.
It was… a little annoying. Not for the first time, as Mayweather rambled on, keeping up the whole conversation by himself, Hideaki wished the MACOs had been assigned rooms with each other. That way he'd have something to talk about. Someone to talk to. Someone he knew.
Hideaki finished putting his plasma rifle back together. The click of the power cell sliding into place was shockingly loud and Hideaki realized with a jolt that Mayweather had actually stopped talking. Slightly concerned, he leaned over the edge of his bunk. A dark-haired head was bent over the table in concentration. From his position on the top bunk, Hideaki could see he was drawing. On real paper.
"What's that?" Hideaki cursed himself as soon as the question left his lips, Mayweather jolting slightly and looking up at him. Stupid. The man had finally stopped talking, and here Hideaki was prying. He'd get him going again -- or worse, he'd clam up. The last thing he needed was to be rude, give Mayweather something to gossip about with his Fleeter friends. His nosy MACO roommate. But Mayweather didn't move to cover his paper with his hand, didn't snap at Hideaki for looking over his shoulder like Hideaki would have. He flashed Hideaki a bright, startlingly genuine smile.
"Oh, just a little doodle. I like drawing ships." He moved his hand, letting Hideaki get a better look at the paper.
'Just a little doodle'? Strong, precise lines covered the page. The sketches could have been mistaken for actual schematics. There was a side view and a top view of an alien vessel -- one of the Xindi ships, though Hideaki didn't know which one -- as well as multiple pencil drawings of individual parts.
"That's amazing." Hideaki said before he could think about it. "You drew that from memory?"
Mayweather looked down in that way he did when he was embarrassed. He half-shrugged.
"It stayed in my mind. I get a pretty good look at them, from the bridge." He said modestly.
Hideaki straightened up and, only half-conscious of the motion, threw his legs over the side of the bunk to be able to see Mayweather better.
"Do you do this often?" Hideaki frantically tried to think if he'd seen Mayweather ever 'doodling' before. Hideaki would have known if he paid better, or any, attention to his roommate. As opposed to spending as much time as possible with the MACOs or at the gym or anywhere that wasn't his shared quarters. Mayweather nodded, spinning his chair around to lean back and look up at Hideaki.
"Yeah. Don't have as much time anymore, but it's relaxing." His eyes flickered to his bunk. "You should have seen me last year. I had a bunch of them just sort of pinned up. Too many, honestly. I took them down when we were modifying the room to make space for two." He smiled at Hideaki. It wasn't accusing, or even resentful. Mayweather seemed honestly happy to have been forced to double up with Hideaki.
Hideaki wondered. He glanced around the room briefly. What was it like, before? When it was just Travis Mayweather's room? With enough space that drawings could be pinned to the walls? In the cramped quarters now housing two, it was hard to imagine.
Mayweather was relaxed in his chair, looking at Hideaki. That could be the end of the conversation, Hideaki realized. He didn't have any reason to ask Mayweather more about himself. He could leave the room and go to the gym right now. Go to the cafeteria and get a cup of coffee he didn't need. Go back to the MACOs. Let Mayweather have his own room again, for a few hours at least, until he crawled back in and slept quietly in his bunk without taking up any of Mayweather's offers of conversation. Of friendship. Huh. Was Hideaki the asshole here?
"Do you draw, Deming?" Mayweather asked him, sounding genuinely curious. What the hell. Hideaki lowered himself down the ladder to stand next to Mayweather.
"No sir. I never had any talent for it." Hideaki paused. "You can call me Hideaki." It was awkward to say after 3 months of never correcting him, but Mayweather took it perfectly graciously. He didn't ask Hideaki why. Hideaki didn't offer. Not yet.
"Of course! You can call me Travis, you know." He turned to his paper and flipped it over, already starting to sketch something on the other side. "What do you do, then? For fun."
Hideaki had to think about that for a while. Which was depressing.
"I like music." He finally said. "I have a guitar at home." He didn't get to bring it along with him. The ship was already over capacity with 36 new people. Large personal items were out of the question. Mayweather -- Travis -- nodded encouragingly, eyes flickering to Hideaki to let him know he was still listening as he created some sort of… whimsical-looking robot, was the only way Hideaki could describe the drawing.
"We have a guitar that's available to anyone." Travis said. "I think it got shuffled to Cargo Bay 1 during the big move-in, but I bet we could crack it out of storage."
Hideaki found he didn't have to force a smile. It was as natural as anything, as natural as leaning back on the wall and talking.
"Hideaki, are you going to the gym?" The question surprised Hideaki. It shouldn't have. He looked down at his brown t-shirt and MACO grey pants. Travis was lying on his bed, eyes closed. Hideaki had thought he was asleep.
"Yes." He always went to the gym at this time, to run group exercises with the MACOs. Travis turned and raised his eyebrows at him.
"Can I come along?" Hideaki was thrown for a moment. "I want to try out some of those secret MACO exercises you guys do." He grinned at Hideaki, mischievous. "If we're doing any more of those joint training sessions, I'm not getting my lip split again." And there it was. Hideaki winced. The MACO-Fleeter truce was nearing it's breaking point. Hayes and Reed were at each other's throats again. Cole was fooling around with the chief engineer (and apparently the Vulcan now too. Lucky woman.) And Travis, who had been slammed to the mat less than 24 hours ago and quietly confessed to Hideaki afterwards that his jaw still hurt if he opened it, was looking at Hideaki with a determined set to his chin.
Speechless, Hideaki could only nod. Travis grinned, shimmied out of bed and into his workout clothes, and the two went off to the gym. He didn't walk with a limp, which was good. He had hit the mat badly; the Fleeters weren't taught how to fall properly. They spent the walk in uncharacteristic silence. Even Travis didn't seem in a talking mood. Hideaki thought about asking Travis if he was sure about this. He didn't.
"Maybe if I wear a brown shirt, they'll like me better." Travis joked as they rounded the corner to the gym that had been all but claimed by the MACOs. Hideaki wanted to laugh, but it was a little too true. It was unfair. The MACOs didn't ask for this. They were just here to do their jobs. But a certain self-absorbed Lieutenant was making even that impossible. The MACOs were starting to get sick of it. Everyone was secretly waiting for the day that their Major snapped and put the little rat in his place. But Hayes, damn him, was too professional for that sort of pettiness. Even though the guy really, really deserved it.
If Travis was in charge of the ship's security, Hideaki was sure that the MACOs would be joining Fleeters for movie night by now. And with that thought he pressed the button to open the door. MACOs were scattered around the gym. Some were stretching, some were doing exercises; Kemper and Romero were apparently trying out their jiu-jitsu as Money refereed.
All conversation stopped as the heads in the room turned and saw Travis, standing next to Hideaki. Hideaki walked in and Travis, cool as a cucumber, followed completely unfazed by the twelve sets of eyes looking at him with grim neutrality. The man had guts.
Cole stepped up to them, looking at them with undisguised curiosity. Hideaki liked Amanda. She didn't let impending death stop her from living her life to the fullest every day. Hideaki was also extremely envious of her right now, if the rumors were true.
"Looking to join the MACOs, Ensign?" She said with a smile playing at her lips. Travis ducked his head respectfully.
"No, sir. Just hoping to get up to speed with you guys." He gave a boyish smile until his lip stretched slightly, and his mouth twitched in a wince. "If you show me any of your special MACO moves, I promise I won't tell anyone."
There was an uncomfortable pause, and the air in the room was suddenly too tight for a moment. Then Cole laughed, and Hideaki could breathe again.
"Alright, but I'd better not hear any questions from the Captain tomorrow." Amanda warned him lightly, and the twelve MACOs shuffled into line to start proper exercises. Hideaki caught Amanda's eye, and she nodded slightly. He nodded back, relieved. Hideaki found himself glad that no matter what else happened on this ship, Travis and Amanda were there.
It was easy to forget to be human, Hideaki realized with a bolt of clarity as they started interval sprints. It was so easy.
Travis was, unsurprisingly, easy to become best friends with. Everybody always had room at the table for Travis. And if Hideaki was with him, they started having room for Hideaki too. There was a shift, slight but momentous, like a mountain moving one centimetre to the right. The MACOs weren't the enemy anymore. They were… part of the crew. Equals. Hell, the Major and Lt. Reed were even getting along now. In their own way. Hideaki tried not to think too hard about it.
Travis and Hideaki's room had art on the walls now. Travis would doodle ships on sticky notes and slap them onto the wall (always over his own bunk, or on his dresser, never over their shared space). They'd stay up, sometimes for a few days, sometimes longer, and when they were gone they were replaced by new drawings. Hideaki asked Travis what he did with the old ones, and Travis dismissed them as "just some doodles". It was the one thing that Hideaki couldn't quite wrap his head around. The man clearly had both a talent for art and the dedication to create it. But he never shared it. Usually he wouldn't even keep it.
Hideaki looked at the wall over his bunk. Travis had spent an hour and a half filling a page with dots and lines, filling them with color to make something like a galaxy, spiderwebs of white in between dizzying hues of red and blue. It was amazing. When Hideaki told him so, Travis had smiled and asked Hideaki if he wanted it. Hideaki, of course, had said that he couldn't just take it, and Travis had offered again, insisting that he was just going to end up recycling it if he didn't want it. So Hideaki had a little galaxy over his bunk now. It was nice. Hideaki looked at it and wondered. He didn't say anything, but he wondered. He looked into plastic-safe paints and what Engineering had on stock and what they could do with the matter resequencer. He just rolled ideas around in his head for a while, not really planning as much as examining possibilities. He didn't say anything. But he did wonder.
On Thursday he came back from sickbay and found Travis sitting at the desk. He must have just gotten off shift; he was still in his uniform. He had a paper out but it was blank; his pencil was beating a tattoo against the table, and his eyes were half-lidded. He was frowning. Travis was frowning more recently, Hideaki noticed.
Hideaki looked at him for a moment and decided it was worth at least asking.
"Could I bribe you to design a gun decal for me?"
Travis spun around, eyes flying open. His ears were practically perking upwards with interest.
"A gun decal? For what?"
Hideaki smiled slightly and got out his plasma rifle. And he told Travis what he had been thinking of. And Travis smiled. And they got started.
A three-day long discussion and lots of paper later, Travis had designed a logo that, to use the vernacular, was totally sick. The blocky design bore little resemblance to an actual shark, but that was because it was a robot. A robot shark. A robot shark that was going to go on the body of Hideaki's gun.
And then they went to engineering to get some crew members' shit and a little aluminum resequenced into something similar to paint. The wonders of modern technology. And then Hideaki handed his gun (sans power cell and heating coil, of course) to Travis. It was harder than Hideaki had expected it to be. It was like handing over a piece of himself. But he trusted Travis with it. Without question.
Travis warned him that he'd never done anything like this before. So Hideaki waited as Travis tinkered around, experimenting with the paint. He waited. He tried very hard not to look over Travis's shoulder, letting the man work without interruption. He realized when he checked the time that Travis hadn't gotten himself any dinner, so Hideaki walked to the mess hall and got two plates of chicken alfredo. Hoshi Sato waved to him, and he gave her a polite smile and a friendly nod as he walked out of the cafeteria. That woman was terrifying.
When he made it back to their quarters fifteen minutes later the gun was nowhere in sight, and Travis looked like the cat that had caught the canary.
"You didn't go and sell it, did you?" Hideaki asked as he handed Travis a plate of alfredo.
"Thanks. No, but I wanted it to be a proper reveal." Hideaki noticed a conspicuous cloth folded over something on Travis's bunk. His fingers itched to grab it, but Corporal Chang was a seasoned MACO and a devout professional, and he finished his chicken alfredo with extreme restraint.
Travis finished his plate before him, and he met Hideaki's eyes and grinned. Hideaki couldn't help but grin back.
"So." Travis drew out the single word. Hideaki looked at him, hands in his lap. Travis looked at Hideaki like he was going to say something else, keep drawing it out, but then he just laughed and shook his head.
"You're gonna like this." And Travis went to his bunk and picked up the cloth-wrapped gun and handed it to Hideaki, eyes dancing with pride and a little bit of hesitant anticipation.
Hideaki slowly unwrapped the gun. He looked at it for a moment and just whistled.
"Wow." He said simply. He picked it up, a hand brushing over the surface with awe. The silver design gleamed. A robot shark swam up the left side of Hideaki's gun, metal jaws opened menacingly. It was fucking awesome.
"It was hard to keep the lines straight on the surface. I messed up the fin a little bit here." Travis pointed nervously. "I don't know if that's-"
"It's perfect." Hideaki looked up at his friend and gave him a big grin, saw all of Travis's shyness melt away. "It's perfect. Thank you." He flipped his gun over, one side to the other, going back to the design again and again.
"This is great."
"Oh, I'm sure all those other MACOs will be green with envy." Travis said lightly, finally sitting down. Hideaki gave him an emphatic nod.
"They will." He said firmly. Travis laughed, bouncing a knee slightly. Hideaki thought about what he was going to say next. "You know, you're a great artist. If anybody wanted to get a decal, you're the best choice."
Travis snorted and turned around. "I'm sure that gives me a leg up on the market."
"Well, if they find out you can be bribed, I'm not sure I'll be able to stop the MACOs from coming to you."
Travis spun his chair again, so that he was facing Hideaki. He was smiling, ready to joke, but his expression dropped slightly when he saw how serious Hideaki's face was.
"You really think so?" Hideaki just nodded. Travis's face split into a delighted grin. He crossed his arms. "How about that! My mom would be proud of me. Getting a side hustle in deep space."
Travis had a mother and a brother who were still alive, Hideaki knew. He nodded. "I'm sure Romero will be beating down your door when he catches sight of this."
"Well, I'll have to tell him my rates are very high." Travis smiled slyly at Hideaki. Hideaki thought of the favor Travis had asked for. High, indeed. But Hideaki would pay up. Even if it meant his death at the hands of one Ensign Hoshi Sato. He just hoped they'd take the shaving cream off his corpse before shooting him out into space.
He smiled to himself as he admired the robot shark one more time before getting up to put his gun back together. Travis Mayweather. A man of many talents. Hideaki thought he was glad he was in Starfleet and not MACO.
He was definitely glad he'd been signed onto Enterprise.