Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Your favorite place on the ship is a small wing of the upper deck dining hall called a “coffee shop.” You don’t really know much about it, actually, except for the little things you hear now and then. Coffee is a drink from a planet called Earth, as is the alien chained to the counter, who calls itself a “human.”  You only know that much because you overheard it say so to an angry highblood once.  You’re honestly surprised it’s still alive, considering how often you’ve heard it work a highblood into a rage over a clever verbal trap you couldn’t follow or a well-played mind game you didn’t understand.  But it’s always so cool and collected, like it’s not even a little scared to stare a red-eyed subjugglator in the teeth.  You would be scared.  The human is much more resolute than most of the other alien slaves on the ship.  But, for some reason, the highbloods don’t even swipe at it.  You’ve seen more useful aliens die for less, and trolls, too, for that matter.  You’re pretty sure you’d get culled if you tried the sort of things the human does. That’s part of the reason you avoid it. You don’t want to get into trouble.

You’re already pushing your luck by sneaking into the coffee shop on your personal time.  You’re not really supposed to be in the coffee shop, or the upper deck at all, except for your job.  Lowbloods like you aren’t welcome on the upper deck.  They’re hardly welcome on the ship, at least as anything other than a slave, since it’s one of the most powerful and prominent warships in the Imperial Fleet.  The only reason you managed to get such a good position is because Vriska pulled some strings for you to convince Terezi she was sorry for mind-walking you off that cliff.  Now, you’re a janiterrorist, which means you can go almost anywhere you want as long as you have your cleaning supplies with you.  It’s not a lucrative job, or especially prestigious, but you’re a free troll and you’re on a really nice ship, so that’s worth something probably. The unfortunate thing is that there aren’t many other brownbloods around to help you blend in. Outside of the maintenance decks in the underbelly of the ship, you rarely see anyone lower than an oliveblood. You have to really watch your step if you want to avoid getting hassled, which is definitely something you found out early.  Your life more or less involves a lot of sneaking around and trying not to be noticed, which is difficult with your big horns and loud voice.  You’re working on the voice problem a little bit, but not successfully.

Sneaking around and being unnoticed gets a little exhausting sometimes, though.  The main areas of the ship are grand and wide, with complex hivestems spanning many floors towering over open community areas. It’s like a city, almost, which makes sense considering the ship counts as home for all of you now. Even though everyone on board besides maintenance staff is part of the Imperial Military, the ship is much more than a military base for all of you.  But you don’t really get to enjoy any of that. Your respiteblock is in the bowels of the ship with the other lowbloods, and you have to be careful to stick to the dim interior hallways away from the busy social areas. All the attractive niceness of the better parts of ship is dangerous for you.  But you like it anyway.  You want to enjoy it sometimes, even if it’s dangerous. And that’s why you sneak into the coffee shop.  It has the best view of the stars, since it’s a really special place for highbloods for reasons you don’t understand.  You just want a break from your menial chores to steal a glance at passing planets now and then.  

As long as you make sure to seem like you’re cleaning up the place, you’re fine.  You avoid eye contact with the highbloods, act busy, and keep quiet.  Mostly nobody questions you.  But the problem is the human.  Another reason you avoid the human is because it’s the only one who sees you often enough to know that you’re faking.  It knows you’re not really cleaning. Sometimes, during the highblood sleep cycles when there are only a few trolls in the coffee shop, you can feel the human looking at you.  It wears those sunglasses, so you can’t really be sure, but you think it’s watching you.  And when the ship is landing an invasion, when everyone but maintenance personnel boards battlepods to drop below the atmosphere of some doomed alien planet, no one is in the coffee shop but you and the human. Then, you know it’s watching you. You try to ignore it. You’re not really sure if it cares, but for the sake of show, you wipe off a few tables before taking the special opportunity to stare outside.  You can see the explosions on the planet’s surface, even from space. You envy the human for getting such an awesome view.

You watch four separate invasions alone with the human before it actually talks to you.

“Those are some fireworks,” it says.  You’re so surprised you knock over your bottle of scrubbing liquid.  It falls off the table and splatters all over the floor.

“Uh...” you say, flustered because you don’t know whether to respond to the human first or clean up the new mess.

“Oops,” it says. “Looks like you might have to do some actual work for once.  That section of the floor probably needs it anyway.  Not that I would know, since...”  It reaches down and tugs up on the link tether chaining it to the counter.

You don’t really know what to say.  You eye the link tether as you kneel to clean up the mess.  “That’s...okay, probably, since there are other people to do this job, so that you don’t have to do it.”

“Like you?” it asks.

“Uh...yes.”

“I’m just going to throw this out there: you’re either the worst janitor I’ve ever seen, or the best mime.  Since your usual audience isn’t around, why don’t you chill and take a load off your clearly overworked cyborg feet?”  It gestures to a table near the counter.

You don’t like the idea.  Even with most of the ship gone, someone could walk in at any minute.  You guess your hesitation is obvious, because the human straightens up and begins to bustle around behind the counter.  “What’s your poison?” it asks.

“Uh, what?” you ask.

“What’s your drink of choice?”

You’ve never had the human coffee beverage.  You have no idea what kind of concoctions the human can make, and you don’t really know if you have the right to drink it.  The human pauses as if it can read the confusion on your face and says, “Look, my reason for living has been reduced to serving you asshole as some kind of barista bondsman, which is almost as ridiculous as the scene in Space Jam when they threaten to use Michael Jackson as a basketball slave for alien children, so give some purpose to my essentially meaningless existence and order a coffee.”

You don’t understand most of what it said, but you think you get the gist of it.  “Um...okay,” you say.  You’re pretty sure there are choices involved, though, and you don’t know what the human can make.  You shrug and, hoping you don’t sound too lame, say, “I’ll have a coffee, then.”

“Just a coffee?”

“I...don’t know what variety exists, as far as coffee goes, or what tastes good.”

The human stares at you as though to size you up, and you think it’s making some sort of judgment about you, but you can’t tell because of how expressionless its face is. But just when you’re getting uncomfortable, it turns to its strange machines and ingredients and throws together some liquids to produce a warm, foaming drink.  You take it with some level of caution and try it.  It’s sweet and creamy, much different than anything you’ve had before.  Your eyebrows fly up.  “This is pretty good!” you say.

“So I’ve heard,” the human replies.  A warm feeling soaks into your body as the liquid settles in your nutrition sack.  Warm and energetic.  You take another drink, and the feeling grows stronger.  The human watches you and says, “The hot new craze sweeping across the troll empire.  Too bad there are only two humans left who have any idea how to prepare it.”

“Only two?” you ask.  You hadn’t heard that before.

“That’s right.  You’re talking to one of them.”

“And only you and the other one know how to make this?”

“Only me and the other one are left.  The human race is extinct.”

You’re beginning to feel a little dizzy.  Something strange is happening in your think pan, in the same places you feel when you’re communing with animals, and you don’t like it.  You lower the cup.  “Uh…I’m sorry to hear that,” you say.  “Your species, is it extinct because…?”

The human points out the giant windows towards the planet outside.  The battlegrounds are throwing dust and fire into the atmosphere. “Trolls.  Ain’t that a bitch.”  Its face remains expressionless, and you imagine its gaze is level behind its shades.  Somehow, that makes you feel worse, in both your think pan and your nutrition sack.  You’re rethinking this coffee drink.

“Sorry,” you repeat. You put the coffee down on the counter.

“You’re the first troll to apologize,” the human says.

“Really?” you ask. You lean against the counter. Your think pan is pounding, and your pump biscuit is beating too fast.  You jump a little when the human sets a glass of musclebeast milk down in front of you.

“Don’t worry about the dizziness.  This seems to happen to every troll their first time,” it says.  “Well.  Maybe not to this degree, but you’re smaller than most of my usuals.  Is that an age thing?”

“What, uh...what do you mean, first time?” you ask.  The psychic energy in your think pan is going haywire, and you can hardly think.

“Hey, maybe you should sit down.”  You look at the human, but you still can’t read any emotions on its face.  You nod and shuffle over to a chair. The block spins. The colors of the planet outside, bubbling with apocalyptic explosions, sharpen until they hurt your eyes. You’ve never thought much about controlling your psychic powers, since it was always something easy and natural for you to do, but you suddenly can’t seem to contain your mind. You’re melting into every lusus in the ship.  You try to pull back in, but you can sense everything.  Every tiny, little thing yanks you back out of yourself.  Your anxiety skyrockets.  You’re disconnected from your physical body. You feel terrible.

You lose track of time, but eventually you begin to settle down.  Your racing heart brings you back in.  You take deep breaths.  You didn’t realize you were bending over, but your head is between your knees.

“Fuck,” the human says. It’s leaning over the counter, and even though the change is small, you can see something different in its expression.  You think it’s concerned.  Or confused. You don’t really know. Your think pan aches.

“Is this...a normal thing, that happens after the ingestion of coffee?” you ask.

“Nope,” it says. “Maybe.  I knew you all got some sort of high off the shit, but I’ve never seen any trolls actually have a bad high before.”

“A bad high? What...?”

The human’s face is back to that unreadable expression, and you get the feeling again that it’s examining you.  “You’re different from the other trolls that come in here, aren’t you?”

“You mean, the highbloods?”

“Highbloods?”

“Yeah, as in, the other trolls that come in here.”

“Highbloods. Okay,” it says with a nod, and you get the feeling that you just provided an answer to a question it didn’t know how to ask.  “And you are...not a highblood, I’m assuming?”

“Oh, no, I’m definitely nowhere near a highblood,” you say.  You’re beginning to feel slightly better.  You could really use that glass of musclebeast milk, but you left it on the counter and you’re not feeling too confident about your ability to walk straight on your robolegs.  The human can’t bring it to you, and even if it could, you think maybe it would be rude to ask, given that your species destroyed its species. You guess you could carry a conversation while you recover.  “I’m a lowblood, which, as what’s apparent by the term, is the opposite of a highblood.” 

“So there are highbloods and there are lowbloods.”

“Yes, and also midbloods. They’re usually greenbloods, and sometimes tealbloods, depending on who you ask, which I think is relative to their own place on the hemospectrum usually.”

“The hemospectrum?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Okay.  So.  What is the hemospectrum?”

“Oh, uh, it’s just our blood color.”

“Your blood color?”

“Yes, as in the color of our blood.”

The human leans forward onto the counter and props its chin up with its hand.  “Just for your frame of reference, humans only have one blood color,” it says.

“Oh!  I didn’t think of that.  How silly of me,” you say.  You pause for a second to adjust yourself to the human’s frame of reference.  The thought of a world with no hemospectrum is bizarre to think about, and with your think pan still pretty scrambled, you’re having some trouble with it.  But you think that, in theory, it sounds like a nice idea.  “Um, okay, so, trolls have different color blood, as in my blood is brown, while highbloods tend to have, uh, cooler colors, like blue and purple.  Warmer colors, like mine, are less important, maybe because there are more of us, but I don’t know for sure, and the cooler colors are more important.  They make all the rules and have all the power, which, logically, may be why they’re called highbloods.”

It considers the information, tapping on the counter.  “That’s it?  It all comes down to what color you bleed?”

“Well, I think that there are also physical differences, such as our body temperatures, and that lowbloods have shorter lifespans so, maybe for that reason, don’t grow as large usually, and also highbloods tend to be more aggressive, supposedly, which is why they destroy things and get angry quickly.”

“So basically what you’re saying is I got stuck with the shit end of the hemospectrum in terms of customer service,” the human says.  You get the vague impression that it’s joking with you, even though its expression has stayed mostly neutral. Even if you’re wrong, the thought makes you smile.

“It’s not that bad, as long as you don’t make them angry,” you say.  “At least, on a positive note, highbloods are less likely to have psychic powers, except for maybe the subjugglator and their chucklevoodoos, which aren’t like normal psychic abilities and I don’t understand them at all.”

“Psychic powers?” the human asks, and you see one eyebrow tick above its sunglasses.

“Uh, yes, like what lowbloods sometimes have.  Like, for instance, I can commune with beasts, and train them into becoming loyal companions through psychic communion.  I guess that’s another thing that could be categorized as different between highbloods and lowbloods.”

“So, on a fundamental level, your brains are wired differently?”

“Uh...yes, that might be one way to think about it, although I don’t know about the scientific facts related to this topic.”

The human takes in the information and nods its head just a tilt.  “We might have found the source of the bad high, then.”

You pause. “Oh, so...it’s because of my psychic ability?”

“So psychic trolls and coffee don’t mix.  Good to know.” The human straightens up and grabs your coffee, which it dumps down the sink.  “You should probably drink that,” it says, nodding to the milk. You try to hide your uncertainty.

“Yes, okay,” you say, even though you don’t think you’re ready.  But you don’t want the human to know that.  The key to high self-esteem is to always pretend to be capable, even when you know deep down that you’re not.  That was one of the lessons you learned when you got your legs, even though several perigees of trying not to get culled by highbloods who think your life is worth less than the hair on their heads dampened your resolve to be confident.  The human doesn’t know that, and it might not even totally disdain your existence, which is an idea you like.  You lift yourself to your feet and try really hard not to stumble on your way to the counter.

“A little shaky on those cyborg limbs?” the human asks, holding the glass out to you, which you think is rather nice of it.

“Uh, not normally, no,” you say.  “Except under certain circumstances, like when I meet difficult urban obstacles, such as stairs or ramps of notable steepness, and when I’m tired, and apparently also when I drink coffee.”

You can’t see the human’s eyes, but from the contemplative hum it makes in its throat, you can imagine it eying the small length of your robolegs visible below the pants of your uniform.  You try to drink your milk and not feel self-conscious, but you’re not doing a good job of it.  “Well, whatever,” the human says.  “Those issues sound a little too common for my taste, but if it works for you.”

“Oh, yes, it certainly does work for me,” you say with a quick nod.  “In the case of legs, being capable of walking, no matter how much variable terrain can cause issues to happen, is always a good thing.”

You almost think you see a small twitch happen at the corner of the human’s lips, but it’s so fast and little that you can’t be sure.  “Yes, in the case of legs, being capable of walking is generally preferable,” it says, and you can’t tell if it’s making fun of you or not.  You decide to think it’s not, because that makes you feel better about yourself.  It pauses and tugs on its link tether.  “Sure wish I could do some actual fucking walking now and then,” it says, and whatever joking tone it set before shatters.

You don’t know why it didn’t really hit you before, but now, you look at the link tether and think about being trapped behind the counter, and you feel something tighten in your torso. “Don’t you...have a respiteblock, or get some time to use the load gaper, or other necessary activities? You don’t, uh...get to move around?”

The human turns around and pushes a button.  A cushioned slab slides out of the wall.  “Here’s my ‘respiteblock,’ in all its glory,” it says, sweeping its hand out as if to boast about the splendor of its meager living quarters. “I get five hours to sleep for every twenty I work.  I can show you my ‘load gaper’ if you really want me to.”

“Oh, no, uh, I don’t think you have to,” you say, and you honestly feel terrible.  You remember what it was like to be confined to a certain space and to have your movements restricted.  Granted, you could wheel around at least somewhat freely and the human can’t.  But also the human can stand, and you couldn’t do that.  Regardless, the situation is pretty shitty and you sympathize.  “Wow, uh...this situation is pretty shitty, and I can sympathize,” you say.

“Can you?” it asks. You can understand why it would be skeptical.

“I used to not have working legs, in that I was paralyzed, which isn’t necessarily the same sort of unfortunate experience you’re going through, but which is also not desirable for reasons that can be compared.”

“Huh,” it says. “That does suck, actually.”

“Yeah,” you say. “So...sorry, about your predicament, that being your enslavement for the benefit of highblood recreation.” You can’t really think of anything else to add.  The human watches you down the rest of the milk, leaning against the counter again with that nonchalant posture, chin in hand, that you decide looks pretty cool. You wish you could look cool like that.

“Hey,” the human says, and you almost drop the glass.

“Yeah?”

“You seem like a pretty decent guy, compared to the other shitdicks I’ve got coming in here on a regular basis.  My usual customers aren’t exactly model patrons, if you know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do,” you say, and you set the glass down.  The human takes it for you and moves it to the sink.

“I thought you might. Listen, I don’t really have anyone to run me through Troll Culture 101, but I have to deal with trolls all day every day, for literal hours on end.  And from what you’ve said, I’m guessing I’m right in assuming that I get the worst of them.”

“Yeah, I would say that’s a thing that’s true.”

“Yeah.  I’ve been watching you sneak around with an eye for avoiding conflict, and after everything you’ve told me today, I’m guessing you have to deal with this bullshit just as much as I do.  So, seeing as you’re a blue collar, Average Joe kind of troll who knows his way around, got any tips for a culturally illiterate alien working with highbloods hyped up on a human stimulant?”

You blink.  Tips?  After watching the human talk verbal circles around highblood after highblood and narrowly avoid what would otherwise be certain culling, you hardly think you’re the one to be giving it tips.  But you do have a lifetime’s worth of experience in dealing with highbloods, which is something the human doesn’t have.  You like the idea.  It gives you a spike in confidence, like you have some valuable knowledge worth sharing and maybe even something resembling wisdom.  It makes you want to lean on the counter yourself in some impressive, casual way.  “Uh, yeah,” you say, “I can give you some tips.  Like, for instance, if, uh…”  But you blank on finding anything relevant to say.  You feel the human watching you, and you’re embarrassed to feel your cheeks grow warm.

“What’s going on in here?” someone asks from behind you.  You jump and spin around.  A blueblood, no one too important.  You see the human straighten up out of the corner of your eye.

“Cleaning,” you say, and you dart over to your cleaning supplies.  You hurry to the other side of the block before the troll at the door can ask you anything else.  But you glance back at the human as it prepares the troll’s order.  You decide that next time, you’ll have some tips for it.  Aliens don’t last long on troll ships, but when the human sends you a small nod, you feel like you’d like it to survive at least a little longer.

Chapter Text

An invasion of a particularly rebellious alien world is planned for later, and almost all of the military personnel onboard are scheduled to launch.  When you were a wiggler, you imagined being part of the Alternian military as a cavalreaper, ready to be courageous and generally impressive with all the other strong, majestic soldiers fighting for the glory of Alternia.  That was before your accident, though.  You still trained with your lance, but you knew you probably weren’t going to be anything near glorious or majestic or impressive in your four-wheel device.  And, because you’re you, you’re not sure being courageous was ever a thing you were going to accomplish anyway, four-wheel device or no.  You were more confident about your ability to be all the positive things you wished you were after you got your robolegs, but you were still too clumsy to be any good.  Not being able to climb stairs gracefully isn’t a favorable indicator of battlefield finesse. But that’s okay. You’re trying very hard to keep up your self-esteem and not feel bad about the fact that you’re not launching with the rest of the Alternian military to be a useful and admirable troll. You can watch the battle with the human in the coffee shop, which is something you enjoy doing, too.

The plus side is that you’ve been able to compile a list of tips for the human as an alien among trolls.  You can’t do anything to help it have a better time with its servitude, probably, but you can help it survive at least. You’ve been writing all your ideas down so you don’t forget them.  You haven’t had many chances to interact with the human, but you know it’s watching you when you sneak into the coffee shop because sometimes it gives you a friendly little nod, as if to send a message of camaraderie.  The little gesture makes you feel special, like you’re unique among all the actually important trolls the human serves regularly.  Now, with the invasion planned, you have the opportunity to really talk to the human and share your troll wisdom.

There’s still the possibility that someone will stay behind and ruin your chance, so you make sure to play it safe until you know you won’t be interrupted.  You’ve shoved the list into your uniform, and you sneak towards the coffee shop as innocently as you can.  You peek inside.  The human glances over to you from the counter and raises a hand.  No other trolls in sight.

You can’t help but grin as you scurry over to the human and pull the list from beneath your shirt.  "Hi, it’s me,“ you say.  "I’ve been waiting for this opportunity to educate you, like you asked me to do, with the aid of this note I made for you about tips for being with trolls.”

“Whoa, slow down,” it says as you smooth the note flat on the counter.  "No need to be all business.  I don’t get breaks like this very often, you know.“

"Oh, right!  Sorry, how rude of me,” you say, a little embarrassed.  You can’t tell if it’s being serious or just joking with you in a serious sort of way.  You get the impression that it likes to joke around, but in ways you can’t always identify as joking around.  But you may be wrong.  Better safe than sorry.

“It’s cool,” it says, and you still can’t tell at all.  It leans against the counter, its hand moving to toy with the corner of your note.  "So, I’m guessing you have a name?”

“Oh, yeah! I forgot to say, I’m Tavros.”

“Tavros.  That’s a very troll name.”

“...Is it?”

“I don’t know. Probably.  It’s not a human name, that’s for sure. I’m Dirk.  Dirk Strider.  Humans have two names.”

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, uh, Dirk,” you say, testing the name on your tongue. It’s a funny name, but you don’t say so out loud.  You don’t think that’d be a good way to make friends, which is what you think is happening. “Also, trolls have two names as well, which I think we can both agree is a cultural point of similarity we can bond over.  So, my full name is Tavros Nitram.”

“Would you look at that. We’re not so different after all,” Dirk says.  You wonder if it’s saying so just because of what you said about bonding, but you can’t discern any malice on its part.  You wish you could read its expression better.  You can’t tell if it’s being sincere or making fun of you.  But it taps a finger on the counter in a speculative fashion and says, with what you think is sincerity, “You know, you’re the only person I’ve met on this murdership who isn’t objectively horrible.”

“Thank you,” you say, because, if it is sincere, you’re rather flattered.

“Sure,” Dirk says, and now you really do think it’s at least not making fun of you.  “Not gonna lie, it strikes me as a little discourteous that I’m asking you to help me out when we don’t know anything about each other.  How about you tell me a little bit about yourself?  We can get some intercultural communication established to feel out where we’re both coming from.”

“Uh, a little bit about myself, like...?”

“Like the story behind the metal legs, for starters.  I mean, I know you’re a…janitor?  Janiterror?  Whatever the fuck trolls call you.  You’re all pretty good at making up stupid names for your jobs to make yourselves sound tough.  But most janitors don’t have metal legs. You mentioned something about paralysis last time, right?”

You sigh.  You’re not surprised he’s asking, since your robolegs are a point of interest that not many other trolls share with you, but you wish something more admirable about you counted as your most noteworthy attribute. Not that you dislike your legs to any degree.  Having legs is a very good thing that increases your self-esteem and makes you not lame. “Well, uh, as for my legs,” you say, collecting up the confidence to be upfront about uncomfortable things, “it’s because once, a friend mindcontrolled me off a cliff, and I sustained injuries that made me unable to walk for a long time, but, uh, trolls who are unable to walk don’t live for long into adulthood usually, especially lowbloods, so another friend made me legs.”

Both of Dirk’s eyebrows lift above its sunglasses.  "Your friend mindcontrolled you off a cliff?“ it repeats.

"Uh, yes, but we were playing a game of sorts, one that’s very dangerous, so it’s actually not surprising that it turned out the way it did.”  You straighten the note on the counter in an attempt to seem cool and not at all bothered by the things you’re saying.  You have legs now, so you have enough confidence to talk about the bad things that happened without feeling self-conscious or upset.

“Trolls really don’t know how to chill the fuck out, do they?” Dirk says.

“No, not really,” you say with a small smile.  "But, uh, if it hadn’t happened that way, I would be fighting now in the military, probably not on this ship, so I wouldn’t be able to help you by providing you with guidance about trolls.“

You hope that sounds as nice and supportive as you want it to sound.  Dirk pauses for a beat, and you think you see its lips twitch again, almost like a microscopic, transient smile.  "That’s true,” it says.  "I guess I shouldn’t say all trolls don’t know how to chill.  You’re okay.“

You’re almost surprised at how pleased you are over the small praise, and you grin.  "Thanks,” you say.  You hesitate for a beat, but you call on your self-esteem to help you be honest about yourself, even if it makes you feel a little bad. "Actually, by troll standards, I’m pretty much embarrassing, so I think that might be why you say so. But I’m glad you think positively of me nonetheless.”

You can’t read Dirk’s reaction, but it seems to be thinking about what you said.  You wonder what you’re like from its perspective, without having lived life as a troll.  “Well, by human standards, most trolls are hyper-aggressive assholes. Not that human standards count for much anymore.”

“Humans, then...are they not an aggressive species?”

Dirk shrugs. “I guess that’s relative. We could sure be aggressive when we wanted to be.  But we at least had standards of basic fucking decency, which I didn’t think trolls had until I met you.”

"Oh, doubtlessly, being a coffee slave to highbloods would make you feel that way,” you say.  "So I don’t blame you for your bitter generalizations of our species.“

It releases a small, quick exhale of air from its nose that could almost be a laugh. "Thanks,” it says. “I guess I don’t have to apologize for being prejudiced, then.”

“No, I think that, given your history with us, that being the near extinction of your species, prejudice is a natural reaction,” you say, nodding in way you hope looks thoughtful and astute. “Objectively, it makes more sense than some of the prejudice that exists within our culture, that being the prejudice against trolls of different blood colors, which has no real reasons for existing.  So, since no one apologizes for that, I think it’s acceptable for you to also withhold apologies, and probably to hold attitudes that reflect your indignation.”

“’Indignation’ is one way to put it,” Dirk says.  Its wording suggests that it found fault in what you said, but you also still can’t really tell what that means about its emotional state.

“Are you, uh...” you start, but you hesitate.  You hate it when your think pan makes you afraid to say something or ask a question, but it does, a lot.  You feel self-conscious for not knowing what Dirk’s thinking and for prying into its personal feelings. Dirk waits for you to finish patiently, though, and that gives you a little boost to force your self-esteem up. “I’m guessing that, given the thing you just said, you have other emotions relating to your circumstances?”

“I sure as hell have emotions other than ‘indignation’ about the genocide of everything I’ve ever loved and the subsequent enslavement of myself and my last remaining friend,” it says.

You almost bite your tongue in your haste to correct yourself.  “Oh, yes, that seems reasonable to me, and I didn’t mean to imply otherwise, if I did,” you say.  After a beat of hesitation, in which you weigh your place in the conversation and try to not let yourself get caught up in your mistake, you venture, “Uh...if it’s okay for me to ask, then, what...emotions do you have, regarding those things?”

Dirk pauses. You really, really hope you’re not overstepping your bounds.  But you’re curious.  Just looking at it, it doesn’t seem to have any emotions at all.  You wonder if that’s maybe just a human thing, not showing emotions.  Maybe it doesn’t have the right facial muscles.  You want to be able to understand it to avoid future mistakes, though, so asking seems to be the only way you’re going to accomplish that.

“How about I put it this way,” Dirk says.  You straighten up and make sure you look as attentive as possible.  If Dirk notices, it doesn’t show it.  “Imagine you’re at home, minding your own business, with your rad as hell older brother who raised you.  You got that image in mind?”

“Is this...like a role play, of the purely mental variety?” you ask.

“Yeah, sure. You can think of it that way.”

“Uh, okay...so, uh...what’s a brother?”

Dirk pauses. “A brother is...trolls don’t have brothers?”

“Uh, I don’t think so?”

“Well, shit. A brother is a sibling. A person who shares the same parents as you do.”

You feel foolish, but you ask anyway.  “What, uh...are parents?”

Dirk pauses again. You get the feeling that you’re being irritating now, but you don’t let it affect your self-esteem. Mostly.  “Parents are the people who conceived you. Your genetic lineage. Trolls do reproduce, right?”

“Oh, yes, we do,” you say, nodding quickly so Dirk knows you finally understand.  “And, if parents are the source of the genetic lineage, it sounds like parents are the human equivalent of our ancestors, which is something I can use to conceptualize the things you’re telling me. Except that, I still don’t understand the concept of a, uh, sibling, as you called it, but that’s okay! I think, um...you said that this brother, it raised you?”

“Yes, in the place of parents, since we were orphans.”

“Uh, okay, so your ancestors, your parents, they normally raise you, like...”  You almost say lusii, but you don’t, because you realize Dirk probably doesn’t know what a lusus is.  “But, orphan, I know what that is.  So, you didn’t have your, um, usual guardians, and this, uh, brother, who shares your parents, raised you?”

“You got it,” Dirk says, giving you a small thumbs up.  The small gesture is enough to alleviate most of your self-consciousness, because someone who’s irritated with your slowness to comprehend things probably wouldn’t bother, and you smile.  Dirk nods and says, “Okay, lets reorient ourselves again.  You’re with your older brother, a dude who knows you intimately and shares your genetics.  Your guardian.”

“Okay,” you say, and you try your best to imagine the scenario Dirk’s building for you.  You’re having some trouble, and you wonder if it’d be okay to substitute Tinkerbull in for the brother human.  You don’t want to interrupt again to ask, though. You do it anyway and hope it won’t matter much.

“You're having a grand time chattin’ it up with your close friends, who you’re finally gonna get a chance to meet in the next year or so,” Dirk continues, and you close your eyes to concentrate as hard as you can on your imagination.  “And then, out of fuckin’ nowhere, aliens come down and make contact.  All the major leaders of your world are going fuckin’ apeshit because aliens?  Who knew?  And then, the invasion starts.  All the armies of your world pull together to battle this insane new threat to your way of life and existence.  Your brother, your only guardian and family, heads out to make a heroic final stand against the relentless aggressors, along with the guardians of several of your friends.  Before he leaves, he makes you promise that, no matter what, you have to survive. Someone has to survive this, and it may as well be you, because you might be one of the few with the wits and fortitude to carry on post-apocalypse.  You watch him die on national television alongside the last good warriors your people had.  You want to fight, but you know it’d be useless now, and you have to protect what little you have left to protect.  So you run, trying to find someone you can hold onto when the apocalypse finally hits. You reach one of your friends just in time.  Bodies are dropping left and fucking right, and the alien aggressors are looting, pillaging, ravaging your world for resources that they probably need to go decimate another totally innocent alien planet in the prime of its existence.  And out of all that, when you’re in hiding, literally the last of your kind, you finally notice a weakness: the aliens found something exclusive to your planet that they like.  A drink.  A drug for them, but not for you.  But they don’t know how to prepare it well enough to utilize its full potential as a stimulant.  Seeing your opening, you come out with your friend, the only two people alive, to strike a bargain.  Your life for fuckin’ coffee.  Now, you got all that in your head?  Or think pan or whatever?  Whatever emotion that might make a person feel?”

You do.  You do have an emotion, or a couple of emotions. You open your eyes and look at Dirk.  Its face is as expressionless as always.

“It’s not indignation, is it?” it says.  You slowly shake your head.

“According to my imagination of the things you just described,” you say, “I don’t think I have a name for that sort of emotion.”

“Yeah,” Dirk says. “Neither do I.”

You both fall silent for a moment.  You wonder if describing what must surely have been terrible memories for Dirk made it feel bad. You feel bad.  You look out the window at the flaming planet outside the ship and feel a little bit worse.  “Your friend,” you say, turning to Dirk, “is it...?”

“She,” Dirk corrects you. “She’s on some other ship somewhere, probably doing the same thing I am.  Hopefully still alive and not hurt.”

You nod, but your mind caught at the start of the explanation.  You wait just enough time to seem like you’ve adequately reflected on the fate of Dirk’s friend, and then you say, “So, if your friend is a, uh, ‘she,’ that means you’re...?”

Dirk just looks at you, and you feel heat rise to your face.  You’re trying very hard, your hardest, to feel confident despite the fact that you probably asked a very stupid question.  You even take a second to imagine Rufio giving you a nice pat on the back and offering polite sympathy for your ignorance.  Dirk finally speaks.  “I consider myself a ‘he,’” it says.  He says.

“Uh, me too,” you say. “In case you were wondering.”

“You know, I was a little shaky on troll gender,” Dirk says, and you almost melt with relief.

“That’s okay,” you say, glad that you weren’t the only one.  “We are, too, actually.”

“What?  Shaky on troll gender?”

“Uh...yes.”

“...Care to elaborate?”

“Uh,” you say. “Well, because...it involves a lot of...developmental milestones, and understanding ancestor history, and your performance in the brooding chambers, so...”  You’re trying to find an explanation, but you’re actually confused. You’ve never had to piece apart the construct before, much less describe it to someone who doesn’t understand even the basic information you’re mentioning.  By now, you’re almost certain that you seem like an idiot, but this is the first time you’re proving yourself an idiot about your own culture and not some understandable cultural difference.  You want to back out and leave yourself some dignity, but you know that backing out is a cowardly sort of thing to do.  You have to fight your natural cowardice and have self-esteem. Self-esteem means admitting that you’re stupid when you’re being stupid and not feeling bad about it no matter what.  So, you take a deep breath and say, “I don’t know how to elaborate, because I’m confused, about the reasons you have for not having difficulty with gender.”

Dirk doesn’t answer immediately.  You wonder if he’s confused, too, or if he’s just overwhelmed by how stupid you are. “Let me frame this in human terms,” he finally says.  “We generally associate our gender with our reproductive roles.  Generally, but definitely not always. The forms our gender is expected to take are mostly socially constructed.”

You’re even more confused. “Your...reproductive roles? As in...like, the reproductive roles of, uh, animals?  With more than one sex?”

“I’m guessing this means that trolls don’t have more than one sex, then.” 

Something clicks in your think pan.  “Oh, so, with humans, when they reproduce...do humans experience gestation, and the caring of their own young, like what some species of beasts do?  That’s what you meant about the, uh, parents?”

“You know, maybe we can get into the gritty details about reproduction at a later date. Let’s get to know each other a little better before we go through the whole ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours’ xenobiology trope,” Dirk says.  You’re not sure what he means by that, but you’re a little disappointed.  You actually do know a little bit about different forms of reproduction due to your interest in raising various fauna, but you never thought about an organism capable of higher thought actually bearing their own young.  You want to know more, but you decide to let it slide.

“Okay, I think that’s fine,” you say.  Dirk raises an eyebrow.

“Were you actually seriously pushing in that direction?” he asks.

“Uh, it’s just that I find the topic intriguing,” you say.  His eyebrow stays raised.  You must be saying something strange.  Or he’s misinterpreting your intentions.  You wish you knew which it was.

“Well, fuck, if you wanna know about it, get me some paper and I’ll draw you some detailed diagrams.”

“Really?”

“Sure, why the fuck not. It’s not like I have a hell of a lot more to do around here.  I’d actually appreciate the distraction.”

“Okay!” you say with a grin, and you make a mental note to bring Dirk a lot of paper.

“Speaking of which,” he says, tapping on the note you brought, “how about we take a look at these hot tips you got for me?“

"Yes, the wisdom!”  Your grin widens as you turn the note towards him.  You’re excited to show him that you’re not really completely dimwitted.  You have plenty to teach him.  "I wrote it all down so that you can remember, and also so that I could remember to tell you.  See, the first point is that you should avoid eye contact whenever possible, and the second is that you should get to know the problem highbloods’ moirails to help you through social interactions, and then–“

"Tavros, I hate to break it to you, but I can’t read this,” Dirk interrupts.  You pause and it hits you.

“Oh, yeah, you probably don’t read Alternian!  Damn…” you say.  All your excitement disappears. You thought you were being smart, but really, you were just proving yourself stupid again.  You sigh, but you remind yourself not to give into bad feelings about it.  Feeling negative emotions about your stupidity isn’t good for your self-esteem, and giving into bad self-esteem would disappoint Rufio.  "I guess this list isn’t very helpful for you then,” you say. You’ll just need to do better next time.

"It’s fine,” Dirk says, and he pulls the note closer as if to emphasize the point.  You perk up.

“Are you sure?”

"Yeah. I’ll translate it somehow.  I might as well figure out this gibberish so we don’t have to wait for space opera cinema hour to open lines of communication.”  He gestures to the window.  “Also, for the record, what the hell is a moirail?“

You open and close your mouth.  You’re going to have a much harder time than you thought.

Chapter Text

You end up contacting Karkat to brainstorm ways to explain quadrants to Dirk.  You describe Dirk as “an alien I know,” which sets Karkat off for the rest of the conversation about how “asinine” the whole endeavor is.  But he does help, so you guess that, even though it’s an asinine thing to do, he must support you at least a little bit.

Actually finding the time to talk to Dirk is the tricky part.  The next invasion isn’t scheduled for half a perigee, since Her Imperial Condescension has her eyes on a warrior planet in another arm of the galaxy and your ship has some traveling to do before it gets there. That means you won’t have any good opportunities to have a substantial conversation for a really long time. If you go to the coffee shop deep into the highblood sleep cycle, you sometimes get a few minutes to chat between coming and going trolls, but usually not enough to talk about anything important.  To your surprise, though, Dirk picks up Alternian quickly.  Really quickly.  Like, almost overnight.  He must be an especially accomplished linguist or something, which is so impressive to you that you can hardly wait to ask him to teach you his skills. You don’t know if you’ll ever get the chance to actually sit down with him for long enough to matter, but if you do, maybe you could learn some of his culture’s script to even the playing field, so to speak.  But you don’t really need to learn his writing system, because he has everything figured out much faster than you ever could.  He devises a plan to pass you notes without the highbloods noticing, which he communicates to you by flicking a small folded triangle at your face when you get close to his counter.  Now, he leaves you other folded triangles tucked away next to one of his coffee machines, which you can retrieve while pretending to clean. You leave him notes in the same place, except you don’t know how to fold them into tight little triangles like he does, so you have to wad them up in a way that looks generally less awesome. At least your handwriting is better than his is.  His Alternian looks a little weird.

One of the first things he sneaks to you is his promised explanation of human reproduction, but instead of the note containing diagrams about human anatomy with some details about the bearing of young, it’s mostly what you’re pretty sure to be straight porn. On the back of the note, he asks you, maybe jokingly, to educate him about the troll process of reproduction, which you think also actually means porn.  You’re quick to write that you can’t draw at all, which is a thing that’s thankfully true.  Your face is flushed when you sneak the note to him.  Now, when you pick up his notes, there are always two—one that actually contains a serious and often astoundingly sophisticated dialogue about important cultural information, and another that has more human porn.  Sometimes he draws trolls with arrows pointing at what would be the genitalia and instructs for you to fill in the blank.  You think he’s messing with you, or else he just really likes drawing sexually explicit situations.  Maybe both.

One time, though, he adds in a different set of drawings.  These humans seem to be more specific and aren’t involved in any activity that could be remotely considered sexual.  He spent more time on the details in their faces, so that they have more distinct personalities than his generic porn humans.  And he gives them names.  “Jake English.”  “Jane Crocker.”  “Roxy Lalonde.”  You discover from these drawings that humans do show emotions, much in the same way trolls do, with smiles and arched eyebrows and happy expressions in their eyes. One of the drawings is of an older human, who Dirk just labels as “Bro.”  Bro wears shades like Dirk does.  You think you understand the idea of human siblings better after looking at him, because they wear similar expressions and have similar facial features.  The genetic relationship is clear.  You tack this set of drawings up next to your recuperacoon.

You wonder how many of the drawings Dirk keeps for himself.  He asks for more paper long before he should’ve run out, judging by the number of notes he passes to you.  The idea of him drawing his friends for himself, given what you know about his situation, is both precious and sad.  You make sure he has more paper this time, and you try to think of more ways to help him. You’re running out of ideas, though.

Your latest plan is to get a list of all the highbloods’ moirails, at least the ones you know to frequent the coffee shop.  You don’t really know how to do that by yourself, so you’re going to visit one of the few people on the ship you know well enough to ask.  Most of your friends ended up on different ships, which isn’t unusual for trolls who don’t have established moirails.  Equius and Nepeta were two of the only ones who managed to stay together, and you think Karkat might have been able to follow Gamzee, but you can’t remember.  The only wigglerhood friend you have on your own ship is Sollux.  Except that you don’t know if you both really count as wigglerhood friends.  You haven’t talked to him much since Aradia’s accident.  Death, you mean.  What you had was an accident.  What Aradia had was just death.  You doubt that’d be a good way to begin your conversation with Sollux, though, so you put it in the back of your think pan and try not to dwell on it too much.

Sollux stays down in the lowblood portion of the ship with the other maintenance staff.  During the first part of his waking cycles, he’s with the other psionics, powering the ship.  You’ve heard the work is grueling and thankless, but at least the shifts are shorter than most other positions in the maintenance decks. Instead of using the time to relax and recharge, though, Sollux took up a second position monitoring and upgrading the heavily protected data network of the ship, which earned him a respiteblock a couple levels above the dismal hivestem he would have had to live in. You have no idea what sort of sensitive information is kept behind the firewalls Sollux has to maintain. You bet that, if you were to find out, you would probably be in a lot of trouble.  But since Sollux could surely access the most top-secret, classified information on the Alternian Imperial Fleet if he felt like it, you assume he’d be the best person to ask about getting information on the ship’s top highblood officers.  You hope he won’t be too tired or irritable after his engine shift to agree to help you.

You decide to visit him at work instead of going to his respiteblock.  That way, you won’t be intruding on his personal time, which is definitely something he needs with all the work he does. You find an hour during his waking cycle when you’re not working, and you navigate your way to his laborblock as quickly as you can with all the times you get lost.  You peek in.  He’s sitting at a husktop, which is flashing numbers and codes you don’t understand at all.  The light from the screen makes his face look sallow and emphasizes the dark rings under his eyes, which are almost as bad as yours were before you got a properly sized recuperacoon.  You pause and think about what you want to say, and you knock.

Sollux looks over at you, and something weird happens to his expression, like he’s both surprised and annoyed.  “Hiiii,” you say with a little wave.  “It’s me, Tavros.  Uh...how are things?”

“What do you want?” he asks, turning back to his husktop.  “I’m working.  This isn’t really the best time to catch up and shoot the shit, if that’s what you’re here for. Why you’d want to do that exactly right now when I’m very clearly busy is beyond me, but whatever.”

“Uh, yeah, um...while I do think that’s a thing we should do, given that, uh, we’ve been on this ship for over a sweep and haven’t really interacted at all, there’s actually a different reason I wanted to talk to you.  Namely, the asking of a favor.”

He grimaces, and his eyebrows move in a way that tells you he’s rolling his eyes.  “Of course.  Why the fuck else would you suddenly show up out of nowhere with that shit-eating grin on your face?”

“Uh...I’m pretty sure this grin is always on my face.”

“Oh, right. I forgot, since you only visit when you want favors.  The whole single time you’ve visited.  But at least that means I’m useful for something.  Which, you know, is the reason I’m on this ship, unlike some people I could mention, who networked their way into a cozy position without any hard work or mental agony.  Hey, Tav, what’s it like not blasting your think pan out of your hear ducts on a regular basis to earn your basic life necessities?”

“Um, well, it’s pretty nice, to be honest.”

“Hot fucking damn! I’m ecstatic for your good fortune. Maybe in another ten sweeps I’ll get to live that life, but I doubt it.”

This conversation isn’t going as well as you expected it to go.  You had almost forgotten how grumpy Sollux could get when he wasn’t having a good time, but now that you’re actually talking to him again, you’re not surprised this is the way things are turning out.  You shift on your feet, and your legs make a low mechanical hydraulic noise that makes Sollux’s grimace harden.  “Uh, so, about you being useful, which I think is a true trait you possess, one that’s very admirable, as is your work ethic...”

“Thanks,” he grumbles.

“You’re welcome. This favor, what I need is—uh, well, let me start by prefacing the situation with a short explanation, so that you understand what my intentions are.  I’ve made an alien friend, who works in the coffee shop where a lot of highbloods frequent, and—“

“What the hell is a coffee shop?”

“It’s, uh...it’s a place on the upper deck that sells an alien beverage called coffee.”

“The upper deck?” Sollux turns to look at you again with an eyebrow arched high.  “As in, the upper upper deck?”

“Uh, yes.  That upper deck.”

“Are you a fucking idiot?” he asks, and he actually swivels his chair around to face you.  “Do you have a death wish?  Between your general lack of a specialized skill set, your glitchy as shit artificial lower body, and your place on the hemospectrum, which I guess is even lower than mine is somehow, you shouldn’t even be on this ship, let alone scampering around the barrack hivestems. What the hell are you doing wandering onto the upper deck?”

“It’s not that bad, just as long as I’m wearing my uniform and have all my supplies and follow all the proper rules of etiquette pertaining to the existence of lowbloods in highblood spaces,” you say, raising your hands a little bit.

“Oh, you follow the rules of etiquette!  Of course! Because that’s kept lowbloods from getting their asses slaughtered mercilessly in the past,” he spits. “Why don’t you just throw on a shirt that says ‘cullbait’ and tie some bells onto your gigantic horns?  Maybe attach some blinking lights to that enormous rack and make it an actual party! How are you not dead?”

“Well, uh, I try to go during the highblood sleep cycle, so as to avoid being disturbed,” you say. “Besides, it’s easier to look outside when there are less highbloods around, which is why I like to go there anyway.”

“You go there to look outside?  Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“Uh, okay, so that’s a difficult question to answer because, um, technically, that area of the ship isn’t in my zone, so my reasons for being there aren’t strictly work-related, but, however, I still do work whenever I’m there, so as to avoid suspicion.”

“Oh my god,” Sollux groans, bringing a hand up to rub at his temple.  “You know why that area isn’t in your zone?  Because no self-respecting highblood would assign any part of the upper deck to a janiterrorist below...fuck, what’s higher than me on the hemospectrum?”

“Directly, you mean?”

“Yeah.  The one right above me.”

“Green?”

“Yeah, green. They’re the cut-off. Everything below them might as well have actual shit running through their veins for as putrid as we are to highbloods.”

“You know, it’s not that hard to remember which color—“

“Shut up, okay, it’s hard for me, and I have no idea why no one else has any problems figuring it out. It’s bullshit is what it is.”

“Uh, okay, sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a subject of personal soreness.”

“I don’t give a shit about the hemospectrum!  Well, okay, I do when it involves issues of personal safety, which is obviously more than some people do, even when they actually know what the hell is going on with all the different colors.”

You sigh.  “I understand your concern, but, realistically, I haven’t had any problems with highbloods, except for what can be expected from any encounter between a lowblood and a highblood who don’t plan to interact in any way.”

“I can’t believe it,” he says. “You know what it probably is? They probably think you’re some asshole’s moirail.  They’re probably like, ‘No way this handicapped cyborg lowblood from literally the lowest possible place on the hemospectrum—“

“Uh, second lowest.”

“What the fuck ever!  They’re like, ‘There’s no way this obviously out of place troll got this far into our turf without some help, and whoever has enough power to get this guy such a sweet job despite all his painfully apparent limitations must be hot shit.  I’m just gonna leave that alone and mind my own business.’ And they’re all wrong. Shit, you know what, this is actually pretty funny when you think about it that way.  Don’t you think so, Tav?”

His tone of voice definitely suggests that he doesn’t think it’s at all funny.  “Speaking of moirails,” you say in a hasty bid to change the subject, “particularly those involved with important highbloods, that’s actually related to the favor I wanted to ask you about.”

“Sorry, buddy, I can’t get you into an actual moirallegiance with an actual highblood,” he says with something like a sneer.  “I know I’ve got some pretty sick skills in stock, but that’s not one of them.”

“No, uh, that’s not what I mean to ask you about,” you say, and you feel your cheeks color slightly. “I’m asking on behalf of an alien, who works in the area I described.”

“An alien,” he says flatly. “You want me to play pale matchmaker for an alien.”

“No, not pale matchmaker. I don’t have any idea where you got that idea, or why you’re thinking it’s something I said or implied,” you say.  “I just want a list of all the highbloods’ moirails, particularly those that frequent the coffee shop in the upper deck.”

“For the alien?”

“Yes, exactly! So that he can use the list in order to be nice to specific trolls, and to potentially garner their favor, so that they might be inclined to help him be not harassed by their partners.”

“So you’re just going to, what, set this alien loose on the ship to play Where’s Troll Waldo with a bunch of trolls it’s never met?”

“No, because the human is tied up so that he can’t leave the coffee shop.”

Sollux stares at you with a deadpan expression, like he can’t believe how stupid you are.  You straighten your back in a way that might convey confidence, or at least competence, so that he knows you’re not going to feel bad about all the ways you’re not explaining yourself well. “Okay, let me get this straight,” he says, leaning forward.  “You’re going to give an alien a list of trolls who may or may not be highbloods when it’s tethered to a place that is open only to highbloods.  To make friends with trolls it may never see because they’re not stupid enough to waltz into a highblood area when they aren’t highbloods.”

You shoulders fall a bit. “Uhhh...what do you mean?”

“Why would highbloods have highblooded moirails?” he says.  “Highbloods are attracted down the hemospectrum for the pale quadrant.”

“No, that’s not true.” But you’re not at all sure you’re right.  You’re going to say it anyway, because you have to believe in yourself and not give into doubts.

“Yes, it is.”

“No, I don’t believe that.”

“Look, I’ve had enough insufferable one-sided conversations with Kk to know that highbloods find nice, pathetic midbloods with calm dispositions saucy as shit in the pale sense.”

“Okay, but...” you say, and you reach up to drag your hand through your mohawk.  “But, so highbloods live for a long time, and if it were true that they only form moirallegiances down the hemospectrum, like what you said, then they would constantly outlive their pale quadrantmates, which would be depressing and sad.  So, for older highbloods, ones who have lived a long time, wouldn’t it make more sense for them to seek moirails that live a long time as well, to avoid heartbreak and sadness?”

You and Sollux both fall silent and stare at each other.  He must see the logic in your argument, because he doesn’t immediately argue back. That thought helps you to gain a little of the confidence you lost.  “How about this,” Sollux finally says, “I’ll get your list together, and we can see how this shit actually plays out in the real world versus whatever drivel Kk reads on a regular basis.  He’d probably be interested in hearing the outcome anyway.”

“Okay!” you agree, grinning.

“I wouldn’t tell your alien project to get its hopes up, though,” he says.

“’He,’” you correct him.

“What?”

“The alien, it—he’s a he.”

“What the hell do I care? It’s not like I’m ever gonna meet it.”  Sollux turns back to his husktop, and you think that means he wants you to leave now.

“Thanks anyway,” you say. He makes a noise that doesn’t sound too irritated and gives you a small wave.  Still grinning, you turn and leave, hurrying to your respiteblock to write Dirk a note about the news.

You wait until the highblood sleep cycle starts before heading up to the coffee shop.  Once you step off the elevation platform onto the upper deck, you only pass two or three stray highbloods who are still awake, and you can’t help but peek up at their faces as you let them pass. It’s like they can’t even see you. You wonder if Sollux is right that they think you’re a powerful troll’s moirail.  The thought makes you feel important somehow.  But not important enough to become reckless with your sneaking.

You duck into the coffee shop with your eyes down like you usually do, pausing to scan the block only after you’ve made a show of setting up to clean.  Only two trolls are still there, drinking coffee together. You’ve begun to notice how it changes their eyes.  When they first start sipping their coffee, their eyes are still yellow, and their pupils are small.  But as they drink, their pupils grow huge and their eyes turn red.  Not the same deep scarlet as when a troll is especially angry, but an orange-ish red, hazy almost.  They usually leave right after that starts to happen, flexing their fists and grinning.  You’d rather be in the coffee shop than wherever they’re headed after that.

The two trolls look like they’re close to that point, and you’re glad, because that might mean you get a few minutes to actually exchange words with Dirk.  You casually sneak over to his counter, pretending to wipe down tables, until you’re close enough to tuck your note into your secret place.  He’s left two for you. You slip them out and into your sleeve, and you glance up at him to exchange a greeting.  But your blood pusher stutters when you see his face. A heavy purple bruise covers his cheek, and his lip looks like it just recently stopped bleeding. He gives you a tight nod as he finishes wiping off a glass.  You can’t help but gape. 

A loud bang behind you almost startles you off your legs.  One of the two highbloods had knocked over the table, and they’re both on their feet, glaring at each other with glowing scarlet eyes.  You scuttle backwards and press yourself against the wall.  Out of the corner of your eye, you see Dirk holding the glass over the rim of the sink as though preparing to break it.  The highbloods snarl something at each other, something about a promotion and a kismesis.  You try to get Dirk’s attention without being too obvious about it.  He stays where he is, on-edge, and doesn’t flinch when the first punch is thrown.  You do flinch. You try to imagine Rufio standing beside you as the scene devolves into a brutal brawl, encouraging you to find your battle spirit, like when he crows really loudly and smirks in an undeniably cool fashion, but really, you’re just hoping they don’t leave the fight unfinished so one of them feels compelled to take it out on you. You breathe a sigh of relief when one of them throws the other against the sliding doors and they tumble out into the hallway.  You can still hear them yelling at each other when the doors swish shut.

You slump against the wall, and Sollux’s warnings come to the front of your think pan.  You don’t think you’ll tell him about this. As you move to take a shaky step forward, a shrieking howl pierces through the closed doors, sharp like the scream of a wounded barkbeast.  You misstep and stumble.  Dirk’s hand closes around your upper arm before you can fall.

“Good fucking riddance,” he murmurs under his breath as he helps you straighten up.  You hope you don’t look as shaken as you feel. You feel pretty awful. “It’s a good thing you don’t pop by during the day more often, or you’d be shitting your pants in here,” he says.  So you probably look pretty awful, too.

You try to swallow down your bad feelings.  “Does this, uh...happen often?” you ask.

“More often as time goes by,” he says.  “And you can tell who’s going to be the culprits.  They come in more and more often for a fix and arrive in worse moods every time.  This shit really is like cocaine for all of you.”

You think to ask what cocaine is, but you don’t have the energy for it.  You look over at him.  The edges of his bruise look like a nebula, purple, red, and black, and the scab on his lip is red.  You can’t tell what color his blood is.  “What happened?” you ask.

“What do you think happened?” he says with uncharacteristic roughness.  “Some fucker suckerpunched me in the face.  Asshole almost clipped my shades.  He would’ve been bleeding out on the floor if he had. I already had half my mind to shove a blade of glass into his eyes.  I don’t know how much longer I can take this bullshit.”

You’re surprised by the forcefulness in his voice.  His expression is still somewhat ambiguous, but you can see his lips tighten, and there are tiny lines between his eyebrows.  “Sorry,” you say.

“Don’t apologize to me,” he says.  You almost apologize again out of reflex, but you bite your tongue.  He inhales air through his nose, slowly, in a way that definitely strikes you as angry.  Is he...angry with you?

“Can I...do anything? To help you?” you ask.

“Obviously not,” he says. “Just now, you were seriously afraid those bastards were going to come over here and get in your face, weren’t you?  You thought they were going to hurt you.”

“Uh...” you say, and you feel a stab of shame.  But you’re going to be honest.  Even though it makes you feel worse.  “Yes, I was. I’m, um, a lame troll, remember?”

“You're not lame. You’re smart,” he says.  “You know, there are day staff that comes in here every two hours or so. Usually a troll with forked horns during the early crowd, then one with rounded spirals, and another with these curved little spikes who makes rounds before bedtime.  So three of them besides you, the faker. You want to know how many there are since about last week, if that’s even a measurement of time you can understand?”

“Uh...not three?”

“Right.  Because spirals got a fist through the gut. Straight through, in one side, out the other.  Basically for the heinous crime of not moving out of the way fast enough.  I’m pretty sure—almost positive, in fact—that you’re more likely to die in this establishment than I am, even though you’re the same species as these glorified thugs.  And that’s what trolls are.  They’re glorified thugs, smug fucking murderers who don’t give a shit about anything resembling the sanctity of life.  I bet you’ve never heard that phrase before, have you? ‘The sanctity of life.’ It’s probably a foreign concept to you, another fascinating point of cultural difference between you and me to consider thoughtfully in your downtime, which for all I know is spent in a hole somewhere hoping some jacked up fucker doesn’t bust down your door and beat the shit out of you for their own self-aggrandizement.”

Dirk pauses and leans against the sink, clenching and unclenching one fist in a rapid movement that strikes you as painfully frustrated.  “Uh...” you say, but you’re at a complete loss for words.  You have no idea how you’re supposed to feel, or how you actually do feel.  You don’t think Rufio can help you with this.

“I’m sorry,” Dirk says, bringing his hand up to his face.  “I’m sorry, but I fucking hate trolls.  I hate everything about trolls and everything they value. Your entire culture is so loathsome to me, I can hardly stand it.  Every fucking day, I stand here, chained up like a dog while these huge, beefy jackasses verbally berate me and try to kill each other the second they step outside this room.  And as far as I know, any one of them could’ve been the guy that killed my Bro. One of the trolls sitting at a table and tweaking on coffee could’ve been the fucker who murdered Roxy’s mom. I could be making lattes for the butcher who slaughtered my best friends, and I can’t do a thing about it. I can’t do anything. This is my fucking life and I can’t do a goddamn fucking thing about it.”

He falls silent. He’s perfectly still, but you notice that it’s because all the muscles in his body are tight, like he wants to lash out but has no way to do it.  And you think that’s probably true.  You feel the impulse to take a step back, but you don’t, because you know instinctively that backing away now would be inappropriate. You’re friendly with him, right? Which means that you’re supposed to be supportive in moments of emotional hardship, even if he takes his anger out on you.  Besides, humans are a non-aggressive species, right?  That’s what he said.  So you stay where you are and try not to shift on your feet too much.  The hydraulic whirr of your legs shifting your weight back and forth is the only sound for a moment.

“I’m not going to stay locked up here forever,” Dirk finally says.  His fists slowly clench, and for once, you can read his expression. Anger, you think, but also fierce determination.  “One of these days, I’m going to figure out how to break out of here.  I’m going to take a ship, find Roxy, and get the fuck out, hopefully to never see another troll again.  I’m not out for revenge.  I’m not an idiot.  But I straight up refuse to spend the rest of my life watching entire planets burn for nothing out of those imax fucking windows.”

You look behind you out the windows.  You’re nowhere near any planets right now, but you know you will be soon, once you reach the next target for invasion.  You hadn’t realized that watching the invasions bothered Dirk so much. You always kind of enjoyed doing it.  But you never really thought too hard about what it all meant.  That is, what it meant from anything other than the troll perspective. You always associated the invasions with glory and honor.  A soldier in the Imperial Military was a noble thing to be, reserved for the best, most talented trolls.  But you try to think about it from Dirk’s perspective again.  Trolls coming down and destroying your world, killing your guardian publically and murdering your friends.  If you had become a cavalreaper like you wanted to be, maybe it could’ve been you, killing Dirk’s bro.  Or someone like Dirk’s bro for some other creature on some other planet.

You’re suddenly rethinking what you thought made a troll noble and glorious.  You look back at Dirk.  His nebula bruise makes the resolute set of his jaw look more impressive. He’s not cocky or confident the way you imagine Rufio to be when you want to practice self-esteem, but he’s got something else that makes you wish you could be like him. A strong will, even though he’s lost everything.  Almost everything. Everything but his one friend, the only person he has left to save.  Your eyes drop down to the tether link tying him to the counter, and you’re starting to develop a new idea of what courage and nobility is, in terms of what makes somebody a real hero worth being.

Chapter Text

You’re standing outside of Sollux’s respiteblock, two cycles away from the invasion.  The hallway is empty except for you, probably because everyone else is preparing for the landing, which is usually a thing that keeps the maintenance decks occupied right before such a huge attack. You bet Sollux has been busier than usual lately.  You know for a fact that he’s getting ready for his sleep cycle right now, if he isn’t already asleep, which you really hope is the case.  You need him to be awake and capable of talking about serious things with you.  Waiting outside his door and not knocking is exactly the sort of thing you shouldn’t be doing when you know that you’re wasting valuable time, but whenever you lift your hand to knock, you stop.  You just stand there and shift on your legs, and the sound fills up the empty hallway, reminding you of all the ways you’re not qualified to be planning to do the thing you’re planning to do.

You gulp down a huge breath of air.  You’ve been having a lot of conversations with Rufio—fake conversations, even though they matter in a real sense to you—and you’re convinced that this is the right thing to do. It’s what Rufio would do. You feel it deep down, in all the places that matter most to you.  But knowing that something is right doesn’t make it easier. Sometimes, it makes it much, much harder, like when the afraid parts of you are so nervous that you get dizzy and can’t make yourself do what you need to do.  But you have to.  If you don’t do this, you don’t think you could ever have self-esteem again.  You’d never be able to feel good about yourself in a confident way if you’re too much of a coward to do this.  So, even though you’re definitely very scared, you take another deep breath and knock.

You wait.  The door doesn’t open.  The hallway is silent.  You’re beginning to think you utterly failed the easiest part of your mission when you hear the low hum of the door’s mechanisms coming to life. It slides open to reveal Sollux, wearing nothing but boxers and an extremely irritable expression on his face.

“Oh my god,” he says as soon as he sees who knocked.  “Has anyone ever told you that you have shit timing?  You could try to show up when I’m eating or taking a break or something, but no, you get off on bothering me exactly when I don’t want to be bothered. What’s next?  Are you going to drop by when I’m on the load gaper? Hey, yeah, we could have a tea party while I’m taking a literal shit!  How enjoyable would that be?”

“Uh, no, it wouldn’t be enjoyable at all, and also I’m sorry, but, uhhh...can we talk inside?” You point into his respiteblock and try not to look too anxious. 

Sollux’s eyes narrow, but to your relief, he moves to let you in.  You scurry inside and try to get comfortable.  You don’t turn around to face him immediately, even when you hear the door swish shut.  You breathe deeply and try to remember how you wanted to say everything. This conversation is going to get tricky, and you have to be careful if you want it to work out the right way.  You almost jump when Sollux walks into your field of vision with his arms crossed. “What’s wrong with you? You look like somebody kicked the shit out of your lusus.”

“Uh, no, that’s thankfully not the case,” you say.

“Okay, so? I don’t know what’s got your undergarments so fucking twisted, but if you came here to unload, I want to make it clear right now that I have way more problems than you do and enough headaches without the added burden of whatever ludicrous nonsense you’ve brought upon yourself since our last chat.”

“I don’t know if that’s true, but you can think that way if you want,” you say.  “I actually, uh...have something planned, that I might need your help with, if you’re willing to do me another favor.”

Sollux releases an exasperated groan and turns away from you in a way that makes you inwardly cringe. Not a good sign. “Hey, I got an idea,” he says, exuding sarcasm, “how about I just never sleep and spend all my time doing favors for your senseless adventures?  This doesn’t have to do with your alien project, does it?”

“Um...yes.”

“Great.  Fan-fucking-tastic.  More pointless stupidity over something that’s both dangerous and completely absurd!  I hope you don’t expect me to go sneaking anywhere insane, because unlike some people I want to survive a little longer into adulthood, even if my miserable life does suck the worst kind of frond this side of the empire.”

You let out a weak laugh. “In terms of sneaking, I think I can manage that part by myself,” you say.  “All I need help with is the escape pod.”

“Wait, what?” Sollux asks, dropping his arms.  “An escape pod? What the fuck do you need an escape pod for?  Shit, you didn’t piss off someone important, did you? See, this is what fucking happens when you go slinking around places your clanky metallic ass isn’t supposed to go, you dense imbecile!  I warned you, but no, you had to be a knucklesponged asshole and—“

“Okay, um, no, I think I gave you the wrong impression,” you interrupt before he can get too carried away. “It’s not because I’m in trouble that I need the pod.  I, uh...this next invasion, when the highbloods are gone to do violent and murderous things, I’m going to sneak up into the coffee shop and break out the human, and we’re going to run away together to rescue his human friend.”

Sollux gapes at you, and you feel your face heat up, because even you realize how crazy and foolish it sounds.  You were hoping that saying it out loud would increase your confidence and make you feel more certain of your success, but neither of those things happen.  Your blood pusher just starts to beat a little faster. “Fuck that,” Sollux finally says. “I’m not going to touch that batshit crazy plan with a twenty-two span pole.  Nice knowing you, Tav.  It was a blast.  Have fun ruining your life over an alien.”  He takes a step towards the door as if to open it for you.

“Wait,” you say, reaching out and taking a hold of his arm.  He looks down at your hand and up at your face with a frown.  You let go quickly.  Your blood pusher is going wild in your torso cage, and you grip at the hair at the nape of your neck.  “Please, I would really appreciate it if you could help me, because this means a lot to me for a lot of reasons.  Can’t you just make it a little easier for me to get a pod, or at least tell me how to do it, so I can accomplish this task by myself?”

“Why?” he asks flatly. “It’s an alien, Tav. An alien. Who gives a fuck?”

“I do,” you say.

“Why?”

“Because....um....” You take a deep breath. You don’t really know how to make your point without saying all the things you’ve been feeling since your talk with Dirk so many cycles ago, so you muster up the courage to say it. “The alien, Dirk, he made me to realize something about myself, as well as about trolls, that I feel is really important.  His species, humans, they were all killed because of us, and now he and his friend are the only two left, and they’re being forced by reasons of highblood addiction to prepare a substance that intoxicates troll think pans.  And this substance, it makes the highbloods more violent when they’re under the influence, and they’ve begun to get unruly, even with him, who they want to preserve for the purpose of supplying their addiction.  They’re guarding him selfishly because of his finesse in the making of their coffee, but his life is terrible. I know you have a rough life with all the work you do, and, uh, because of your brain problems, but I’m almost positive I’m right in saying that his is worse.  Much worse, in ways that...inspire sympathy in me. I’m certain now that he won’t be able to escape to rescue his friend without help.  And I want to help because...with all my physical limitations, those that you said made me at risk to be killed more than other trolls, which is true, I wasn’t able to do anything noble or courageous or impressive as an adult like I always wanted to do.  To go on adventures and perform daring deeds, like I did when I was FLARPing with Aradia before I stopped being a useful troll.  I thought, back then, that being a cavalreaper would make me achieve those positive attributes, but now, with Dirk’s help, I realized that slaughtering aliens and destroying other civilizations isn’t the way to do that. Rather, rescuing a defenseless slave, whose unfaltering spirit I find to be admirable, from the grips of dangerous and violent captors would.  That’s the hero I want to be.  And so, with the support of Rufio and my self-esteem, I am going to become that hero, even though the task ahead of me is decidedly perilous.”

You try to straighten your back a little to seem more determined, like how you remember Dirk looking when he swore he’d escape.  Sollux bring his hand up to his face and draws it down his cheek, pulling at the corner of his eye so that the yellow of his eyelid stands out against his red eyeball.  You wait for his response, shifting on your legs.  “Stop,” he says, gesturing at your hips.  “Get that shit oiled or something.  What was that about addicting substances that make highbloods more violent?”

You pause. “You mean the coffee?”

“What is coffee?”

“It’s the human beverage Dirk makes at the coffee shop.”

“And it makes highbloods more violent?”

“Uh...yes?”

Sollux presses his hand against his lips and breathes out slowly through his nose.  “And obviously that hasn’t been enough to deter you from this coffee shop, because you’re broken in the pan or stupider than a spongeless carpenter drone.”

“They usually leave before they get too violent,” you say with a shrug that you hope seems casual enough to deter more questions.  “I guess they sometimes fight, but...I think, if they’re leaving to be violent elsewhere, the coffee shop is the better place to be.”

“Or not on the upper deck at all, which would be the reasonable response for anyone with any sense,” he grumbles beneath his breath.  “Look, Tav, all that sounds honorable of you if not completely idiotic, but I don’t have any death wishes. If the highbloods are as addicted to this coffee shit as you say they are, this plan is nothing short of a suicide mission, and I’m not interested.  At all. Not even a little bit. You can justify your weird, borderline profane obsession with your alien ‘pal’ any way you want, but I would rather perforate my own bone bulge with a rusty fork than get sucked into this bullshit.  Count me the fuck out.  I might be able to arrange something with the escape pod, but—“

“Really?” you say, perking up instantly.

“But if you sell me out or get me somehow otherwise involved in this rash of shit, I swear on the mother grub’s disgusting bilesack that I won’t let you live in peace with it.”

“I can agree to those terms,” you say, nodding enthusiastically.  “I’ll return your help with any favor or material possession you can ask of me.”

“No, I don’t want anything. Did you hear what I just said? As far as either of us go, this never happened and we don’t know each other.  That’s especially true when you inevitably get caught and skewered for stealing imperial property, got it?”

“Right, yes! Then, my undying gratitude will have to suffice, and I have plenty of that to give.”

“Just get out of my block. I’ve got shit to do.”

You scamper over to the door and wait for him to open it.  “Thanks again,” you say with a huge grin as you step out into the hallway. He closes the door without another word.

The cycles pass more quickly than you like.  Your blood pusher is almost always hammering away faster than it should, and an unshakeable queasy feeling sinks into your nutrition sack.  You resist the urge to curl up in your recuperacoon and sleep away the time until the invasion, just so you won’t have to feel all the uncomfortable anticipation filling you up.  But you do your work like you’re supposed to.  You try not to act suspicious.  You pass notes to Dirk hinting at your plan, but you’re too afraid to mention it directly in case someone else finds his stash of paper. You hope he catches on, or if he doesn’t, you hope he’s at least adaptable to sudden crises. He gives you that impression.

You wait to hear something from Sollux.  Every half hour, you check your messages and find nothing, at least not from him. He doesn’t give you instructions on how to steal an escape pod or let you know that he’s made the arrangements you asked for.  He doesn’t send you anything.  When you go to his respiteblock, he doesn’t answer the door.  That definitely doesn’t help you to feel better about your plan. He said he didn’t want to get involved, so...maybe that’s it.  You can’t really blame him.  Even you are starting to doubt yourself, despite all the fake reassurances you imagine having from Rufio and all your stubborn self-esteem.  You might have to make your self-esteem more stubborn. You work on that while you go about your business, waiting for the warpods to launch.

You don’t know how your plan is going to work without an escape pod.  But it can’t be that hard, right?  A lot of people fly escape pods, and they can’t all be smarter than you are.  Maybe you can look up the flying instructions when you get to that part of the plan. Someone probably put all the directions on the troll internet.  You hope.  You hope really, really hard while you get everything together, including the coil cutters you stole and the extra large garbage receptacle you cleaned out for Dirk to hide in, all of which you store in the back of the utilityblock.  This is the only chance you’ll get, so you hope that hoping will make the difference you need it to make.

The launch finally happens. You can tell by the quietness outside of your respiteblock.  The trolls on the maintenance crew that don’t launch use the time to take a break from their duties, which you think probably includes Sollux. You consider for a moment swinging by his respiteblock one last time to see what you can learn before you go, but you decide against it.  Sollux doesn’t want to help you.  You’re on your own.

You put on your uniform and imagine Rufio standing next to you, giving you the biggest pep talk he can manage. He says things like, “You’re the best!” and “You can do it!”  And you have to believe those things for his sake.  You take a deep breath and, just as you’re about to collect up the last of your things, you hear a knock at your door.

Your blood pusher jumps up into your throat.  A visitor is definitely the last thing you need right now, especially when you have to pay attention to time constraints.  But you also don’t want to seem suspicious.  You could not answer, like you’re sleeping, but you won’t be able to leave with someone outside.  Biting your lip, you move over to the door and, hesitantly, you open it.

“Oh, good, you haven’t left yet,” Sollux says, shouldering past you into your respiteblock. You gape at him as he punches the button to close the door.

“Uh, hey...what...?” you say as he surveys your room.

“What the hell, Tav, the launch is over and you’re not even fucking packed!”  He plops down on your reposecushion and pulls out his husktop. “Figures.  I’m starting to think you’ve got no actual clue what you’re doing ever, on top of having close to no sense of self-preservation. How did you even make it this long without serious help?  Oh, wait, that’s right.  You did have serious help.  And this is what happens when you don’t.  Good fucking thing I’m here to pick up the slack, fuck.”

“What...are you doing?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Get your shit together!” he snaps at you.  “I don’t want to wait around for the whole fucking invasion to finish up before we try to jump ship with the empire’s most valuable alien.”

“We?”

“Yeah, we. I’m coming, too. Obviously.”

“What?”

He huffs and looks at you over his husktop.  “Look, I’ve been doing some research on this ‘coffee’ bullshit you mentioned, and I’ve got some bad news.  Seriously bad news, like the kind of bad news that wakes you up in the middle of the night thinking, ‘Shit, everything is going to crash and burn if somebody doesn’t do something about this.’”

“Uh...really?”

“Yeah, really.  I’ll fill you in when we’re in the clear, if we make it that far. For now, all you need to know is that whatever reason you had for saving this alien is completely irrelevant compared to the reasons I have for getting rid of it. Personally, I say we drop it off at the first habitable planet we find and call it a night, but I’m guessing you’re not about that plan.”

You finally manage to regain something like composure, if composure was ever a thing you had in the first place, and you shake your head.  “No, you’re right, I don’t like that.”

“That’s what I thought. You’re wrong, but whatever. We might as well keep it around while we go get the other one.”

“You’re going to come with us to save his friend?” you ask.  You’re starting to get excited.  Suddenly, you don’t feel as alone and lost about the whole thing.

“Do I have a fucking choice?” he says.

“Uh, well, yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t. Not that you have any idea why that might be yet, since you’re hellbent on playing Troll Romeo to freak alien parasite Juliet, but just trust me, this is serious business.”

“Um...you’re starting to make me nervous.”

“Oh, now you’re getting nervous!  Get your shit together and let’s go!”

“Uh, right.” You scramble across your respiteblock and pick up everything you think you’ll need, including your favorite personal items, like your fiduspawn set and the picture Dirk drew of his friends.

“Tav, we’re literally about to commit treason.  Why are you packing up your wiggler games?” Sollux asks, and you notice he’s watching you with an irritated bend in his eyebrows.

“We might get bored,” you say with a shrug.  “Also, because I like it.”

“What the fuck ever! Are you done yet?”

“Okay, yes, but also you’re making me take longer than I would have, just so you know.”

“Alright, sweet, let’s do this.”

He closes his husktop and packs it away before jumping to his feet.  You open the door, and he peeks out, glancing both ways before slipping into the hallway.  “Uh...you’re acting suspicious,” you say as you close the door.

“What do you mean?” he asks, pressed against the wall.

“You’re...okay, first of all, you need to have a uniform, or else you’re not going to be able to get very far,” you say, pointing to his clothes.  “Also, you should just walk naturally, or like you have something to do, preferably with a quick pace and your eyes down so that no one will question your productivity.  It’s like, um...like you’re roleplaying a really productive worker, one who has access to areas that you don’t really have access to.”

Sollux considers your point with a sour expression on his face.  “Okay, so what do you propose I do about the uniform, genius?”

“Uh...I thought you would’ve have already procured one, given...”

“Let’s just both put it on the table that I’m a dumbass who planned ahead too far and didn’t think about something as basic as a disguise.  That embarrassing bit of idiocy is now where we can both see it and appreciate my failures.”

“I can get a uniform,” you say.  “Also, I don’t think you should feel bad about that, since you apparently have a lot on your mind right now.”

“Thanks,” he says drily. “How about you lead the way then, since you’ve got this all figured out.”  He gestures for you to precede him down the hallway, and you do, trying not to seem too pleased with yourself for proving you’re not a complete dunce. You lead him to the utilityblock, where all of your stuff is already ready to go.  You find a spare uniform in one of the abandoned lockers, probably belonging to a troll who met an unlucky fate while working. It’s too big on Sollux, who you notice for the first time is maybe a little skinnier than he should be, but it’ll work.  He glowers at you as he rolls up the sleeves.

“My plan is to use this to sneak him out,” you say, pointing at the garbage receptacle.

“That’s as good a way as any to steal imperial property,” he grumbles.  “Let’s get this over with.  I don’t want to spend any more time on the upper deck than we have to.”

You know the best path to the upper deck, and the closer you get, the tenser Sollux becomes. You’re glad almost everyone in the barrack and upper decks is gone, or you’d start to freak out, too, just because of Sollux.  You don’t think he’d be receptive to any comments or suggestions about his demeanor, though, so you don’t say anything.  You’re glad when you finally get to the coffee shop, which, thankfully, is empty. Dirk looks up when you enter. You can’t tell by his expression if he’s surprised to see you with Sollux and the cart of supplies you have this time, but he doesn’t say anything to greet you, which suggests to you that maybe some surprise is involved.  Outside the windows, you can already see the marks of the invasion marring the planet’s surface. 

“Um, okay,” you say, pulling the coil cutters from inside the receptacle.  “Hi, Dirk, uh, you might want to get together anything you want to take, because we’re here to rescue you.”

Dirk’s eyebrows lift just a little above his shades.  “No shit?” he says, which you think he means as a question.

“Yes, so, hold still.” You climb over the counter, trying to seem cool and impressive even though your legs aren’t the best at climbing.  He gives you some room to drop down next to him and, anticipating your next move, he holds up his link tether for you to cut.  You squeeze the coil cutters against your ribs to break through the thick metal.

“Damn,” he says, and you can’t tell if that’s meant to show appreciation for your strength or just a Dirk form of excitement.  It could be both. Either is good enough for you, though.

“Okay, so, we should hurry before someone else comes in.  Oh, this is Sollux, by the way.”  You point at Sollux, who grimaces and lifts his hand.  Dirk sends him a small nod before ducking below the counter and removing a stack of paper.  You were wondering where he hid all of it.  He folds it all in half and tucks in into the back of his pants.

“You go in here,” Sollux says, pointing at the garbage receptacle as Dirk leaps over the counter with much more grace than you managed.  Seeing Dirk finally move around gives you a small pause.  He’s fluid and careful with his movements, but something about him definitely exudes power.  Like he’s a warrior, and a good one.  You can’t help but watch him as you clamber back over the counter.  He turns to you as you get steady on your feet again, and he nods his head towards the receptacle.

“That’s the plan?” he asks.

“Uh...yes, sorry,” you say with an apologetic smile.  “I cleaned it, though, so it should be fine.”

“Nice,” he says, and he slips into it without another word.  He fits well enough.  You drop some stained fabric on top of him to cover him up and make the garbage receptacle seem a little more full of garbage than human.

“Okay, so the escape pod,” Sollux says.  “This is my shit. Stay close and do exactly what I tell you to do.”

You nod and take up your position behind the cart.  Sollux moves fast, almost too fast to avoid suspicion, but you know he wants to get off the upper deck.  As soon as the doors of the lift open onto the barrack decks, you see him relax a little bit. You relax with him, but not by much. You’re still not in the clear. The launch pads are the biggest and busiest part of the ship, spanning a full level of the ship between the maintenance and barrack decks, and you’re just now reaching the most difficult part of the mission.  You have to navigate your way to an escape pod with all your cleaning supplies, dressed as janiterrorists, without anyone noticing.  Luckily, the escape pods are less monitored than other vessels, since they’re meant for emergencies.  But you still have to cross the launch pads to get to them.

Sollux leads you to the edge of the deck, but instead of pressing forward, he ducks into a dim corner and pulls out his husktop.  You glance around the corner as he types some rapid commands into a few textboxes. There are a small number of trolls in your field of vision, but not as many as you thought there’d be. You’ve never really been on the launch pads before.  Most of the warpods are gone on the invasion, so the vast area looks almost desolate. You look back at Sollux and peek over his shoulder to get a look at his screen, but he snaps it shut before you can figure out what he’s doing.  A shrill beeping sounds on the launch pads.  When you look over, the few trolls loitering around begin to jog towards the source of the sound.  “We’re going,” Sollux says, and you perk to attention.

“Okay,” you say, moving to return to the cart, but your feet leave the ground.  You gulp down a yelp as you and the cart both fly forward, encased in blue and red plasma.  Sollux uses his psionics to levitate you up to the tall ceiling, above the florescent lights, and you watch as the immense expanse of the launch pads passes below you.  None of the trolls notice you rushing past high over their heads.  A sense of glee fills you as you bypass what you thought would be the worst of your obstacles, and the thrill of flying makes your blood pusher flutter.  When you reach the escape bay, where hundreds of thousands of docked pods sit in near darkness, you’re grinning.

“That was so sick!” you whisper as Sollux lowers you to the floor.  He glances at you with the same testy expression he’s been wearing since you left your respiteblock, but he pauses when he sees your face.

“That wasn’t shit,” he says, and something almost impish sneaks into his expression.  “It was way better on Alternia when we weren’t cooped up in this joyless metal workhouse.  Now that was sick.”

“Oh, yeah, no doubt! I remember Aradia—” You stop before you can finish the sentence.  Aradia used to give you lifts sometimes when you were FLARPing, and even though the memory of soaring through the Alternian night is so great, you think this topic might be inappropriate to discuss right now.  Sollux doesn’t say anything.  He just kind of looks at you, and the expression falls off his face.  You don’t feel quite as good as you did a moment ago.

You jump when you hear Dirk’s voice.  “Are we in the clear?” he asks, and you turn to see his head poking just a bit above the edge of the garbage receptacle.

“Uhh...” you say, looking at Sollux.

“Almost,” he says, and he turns away with a nod for you to follow.  You hurry around the cart and push it after him. Dirk’s head looks like a lump in the rag from behind, and it amuses you enough to bring a smile back to your face. You don’t tell him to duck back down as you push him past the dark pods.  “Here,” Sollux says as you reach one of the last ones. He pulls out his husktop and holds it in front of him with psionics as he types.

“The fuck?” Dirk asks. He looks over his shoulder at you.

“What?”

“That...computer? Is floating.”

“Oh!  Yes, Sollux is a psychic troll.  Remember, how I said that’s a thing sometimes?”

“Right.”

“Okay,” Sollux says, closing his husktop.  “I’ve disabled the alarms.  We should be able to sneak out without anyone knowing, and as long as they don’t do an inventory any time soon, we should be able to get a head start.”

“How often do they do inventory?” you ask as he opens the hatch to the pod.

“How the fuck would I know? I don’t work up here.”

“Oh, I just, uh...okay.”

“Just get on.”

You turn to get Dirk, but to your surprise and slight alarm, he’s already standing next to you. You hadn’t even heard him move. “You know how to fly this thing?” he asks.

“Uh...”

“Yes,” Sollux says from inside the pod.

“Well, okay then,” Dirk says, and he tilts his head towards you as if to send you a look. His expression doesn’t change, but you understand anyway.  You stifle a laugh.  “How about we get this show on the road?  One rescue mission, courtesy of Tavros Nitram, ready to launch.”

“Yes!” you say, unabashedly pleased with yourself.  His lips twitch into his brief ghost smile, and he steps ahead to climb into the pod. He pulls himself up into the hatch with such natural control and dexterity you barely remember to not stare. You notice that the muscles in his arms and back seem to be similar to a troll’s.  You’re more self-conscious of your own body when you follow, but, luckily, you’re a little more graceful when you’re using your upper body than you are when you’re using your lower half.

The pod is small, but not too small.  There are five recuperacoons on board as well as a load gaper, an ablutions trap, and a control panel.  Dirk waits for you to get yourself in and follows you to the front of the pod, where Sollux is already situated with his husktop out.  You hear the hatch close behind you.  The pod rumbles to life.

“Let’s get the fuck out of this hellhole,” Sollux mumbles under his breath, and the pod follows a track to an ejection chamber.  Moments later, you’re shooting through space, almost in shock that you actually made it this far.

Chapter Text

Sollux is busy doing something on his husktop that you think must be important, judging by the concentrated scowl on his face, so you lead Dirk away to get established in the pod. You take it for granted that he would know about all the important parts, like the recuperacoon and the ablutions trap, but you find out quickly that you can’t really make assumptions like that.  You spend a good amount of time trying to explain how a rucuperacoon works and why it’s important, and then asking Dirk about human sleeping rituals.  Humans apparently sleep during the night and spend all their waking hours during the day when the sun is out.  A fact like that doesn’t generally matter in space where time isn’t formed around the presence of a sun, but you store it away nonetheless.  Maybe if you find a habitable planet, it’ll be something worth remembering. For now, you have to wonder if a recuperacoon is appropriate for Dirk.  Since you don’t know how a human would react to sopor slime, you think it might be best to make a makeshift sleeping area for him, a ‘bed,’ as he calls it, and he agrees.  So the two of you set out to find stuff to make his ‘bed.’  He told you to find anything cushiony and somewhat flat, like pillows.  It feels a little bit like making a pile to you, but with more practical objects. Humans are strange and interesting creatures.

“What are you doing?” Sollux asks when he finds you rummaging through the nutrition block. You startle and knock over a shelf of rations with your horns.

“Oh, hi, I’m making a bed,” you say, bending over to pick everything up.  “Or, uh, trying to, but finding the appropriate materials on this pod is proving to be a difficult task.”

“A bed?”

“Yes!  It’s like a sleeping slab made of cushions, that humans use during their sleep cycles.”

“Fuck that,” Sollux says. “Let the human make its own sleeping slab.  We’ve got shit to discuss.”

You perk to attention and almost drop more rations.  “You mean, about the serious things you alluded to earlier?”

“Yes, exactly. The really fucking serious things I mentioned that we need to get on the table so we know what we’re up against.  In a seriously serious manner that doesn’t involve frolicking around doing stupid shit with the alien.”

“Oh, okay, I’ll get Dirk.”

“We don’t need it!” Sollux says, but you’re already trotting out of the nutrition block and down the narrow hall.  You’re going to have trouble navigating the pod with all the small spaces and narrow little steps, but you’ll manage if you’re careful.

“Uh, Dirk?” you say when you finally find him in one of the ablution chambers with a collection of towels.  You hadn’t thought of that.  “Oh, nice thinking,” you say, pointing at the stack.

“It won’t be much, but it’ll be better than nothing,” he says with a shrug.  “If it doesn’t work out, I might give the slime tub a go.  Might be fun as a faux science experiment.  We’ll get to see what sort of havoc troll sleeping juice wreaks on my complexion.”

“Oh, yes, it will surely be an enlightening discovery,” you say, stifling a laugh.  “But, uh, for now, Sollux wants us to have a meeting about some serious things he found out about.”

“The other troll? Sounds good,” he says. He stands and follows you out. You find Sollux at the control panel, staring irritably at his husktop.

“Hi, we’re here,” you say, ducking in and taking a seat.

“About fucking time,” Sollux says, turning away from his husktop.  “And you brought the alien.  Great.”

“Oh, yes, this might be a good time for introductions, since you both haven’t been formally introduced,” you say.

“No,” Sollux says.

“So, this is Sollux,” you say, looking at Dirk.  “He’s a wigglerhood friend of mine who shares many mutual acquaintances and past histories with me.”

“Is this the friend who mind controlled you off the cliff?” Dirk asks.

“No,” Sollux spits before you can answer.  “I’ll be the first to admit that I’m no fountain of goodwill and niceties, but I’m nowhere near as bad as she is.  She’s on her own level of fucked up.  And anyway, I can’t control people with my mind.  Let’s just be really clear, right now, that my mutant brain can’t do shit but move stuff around and fill my nights with horrible, unspeakable noise.  I’m telekinetic, not a telepath, and I’m not going to scan your brain or anything stupid like that. That’s all you need to know about me.  Introductions are over, let’s move on.”

“I thought you said it was normal for trolls to get mind controlled off of cliffs,” Dirk says, glancing at you.

“What the fuck, Tav, why would you tell him that?”

“Uh, no, that’s not exactly what I said,” you say, holding your hands up.  “I meant to imply that it was normal for bad accidents to happen while FLARPing, because of the dangerous nature of the game.”

“Oh, so the friend in question is still not off the hook,” Dirk says.

“She’s a literal sociopath,” Sollux says.  “Don’t use her as a baseline standard to form your opinion about trolls, because she’s the fucking worst on almost every level imaginable.”

“That sounds pretty serious.”

“It’s the truth.”

“So I take it you hate this person.”

“I sure as hell don’t like her.”

Dirk turns to you. “So is this what a kismesissitude looks like?” he asks.  You only have time to grimace before Sollux jumps in.

“FUCK no, and fuck you!” he says.  “This shit is a purely platonic explanation of fact.  I don’t develop the overwhelming urge to grope myself every time I recognize that another troll is objectively horrible, okay?”

“I, uh, don’t think Sollux has a kismesis, to further prove that point,” you say, hoping to steer the subject away from Vriska.

“Mind your own business,” Sollux snaps.  “And before you start harping on me about finding concupiscent quadrant partners before drone season, let me remind you that you don’t have a lot going for you either, so back off.”

“I...wasn’t going to, actually,” you say, a little taken aback.

“Good!  It’s hard finding someone when you’re working as hard as I do to earn my meager living, and I don’t need you getting on my case about it.”

“I really wasn’t going to get on your case at all, or mention anything about that subject.”

“Good.  Great.  Glad that’s settled.  Now can we please start talking about something relevant, or do we have some other nugget of inane bullshit to split open beforehand?”

“I’m good,” Dirk says.

“Me too,” you say with a nod.

“Finally!” Sollux turns to his husktop and pulls up a number of graphs and figures.  He turns it towards you.  “You see these?”

You look at the screen and back to him.  “Yes?”

“I made these graphs using the statistics I found on the death counts in the Imperial Fleet warships. It might not matter if some nobody takes a club to the head, but we’ve got to keep track of the population figures to keep the ships livable.  Here are the graphs from the ten biggest ships, including Her Imperial Condescension’s.  What do you notice about them?”

You examine the graphs. Eight of the ten seem pretty stable, with lines that stay at roughly the same level, but two of them show a steep rise in fatalities after a specific point in time.  “What, um, happened to those two ships?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Sollux says.  He points to the first. “This is our warship, the third most important in the Imperial Fleet, and this one is the fleet’s second. They’re the only two warships with coffee shops.  You want to take a guess when this trend really starts to pick up?”

“After the invasion of Earth,” Dirk says.  You glance at him. His face is as expressionless as it always is, but you sense something sober in his tone.  Maybe you’re just projecting emotions onto him because that's how you feel now.  You turn back to Sollux.

“One glitter biscuit for the alien,” Sollux says.  “You were right when you said that coffee makes highbloods more violent, Tav. This is some serious shit. I was scanning forums for any conversations I could find on this subject, and some of the stuff I read would send shivers down your dysfunctional spine.  Moirails can’t placate their highblooded palemates. Subjugglators are using their chucklevoodoos in weird, twisted ways, and more trolls are complaining about nightmares even when they’re in their ‘coons.  Highbloods are damaging the ships and disobeying their superiors, and highblood-to-highblood fatalities are up just as much as fatalities down the hemospectrum.  This coffee business is literally ripping apart these warships.”

“It’s not...really that bad, is it?” you ask, glancing at Dirk.

“It sounds about right to me,” Dirk says with a shrug.

“You bet your tin-can ass it’s that bad,” Sollux says.  “And you were wandering around the upper deck like a garbling halfwit to go stargazing. I told you, didn’t I? It’s a miracle you’re not dead, and I don’t throw around the word ‘miracle’ like some rottensponged loser. And that’s just the start of our problems!”

“It is?” you ask with growing trepidation.

“It is.  I did some research of the more illegal variety using my sick hacking skills,” Sollux says, and he turns his husktop towards himself to type.  “The Condesce got wind of all of this and ordered some experiments done.  She obviously doesn’t have a coffee shop, since she’s a badass who can’t stop anywhere long enough to pick up stray aliens. Most of the experiments are being conducted on the other warship, the one with the other human. They have more space, resources, and manpower, if you can even fathom any ship getting bigger than ours was. The findings so far are that coffee fucks trolls up in the pan.  The shit is addictive as fuck and affects all sorts of important parts of the brain, which isn’t surprising. Coffee speeds us up and enhances our sensory register, so if put to practical use, we could really raise the bar in our invasions.  We’re talking the most lethal planets in the galaxy, reduced to nothing under the onslaught of our hyped-up, caffeine buzzed troops.  But here’s the real sauce glazing this grubloaf: the Condesce is conducting experiments on psychic lowbloods like us to see how our think pans react, and the results are looking grim for us to say the fucking least. Well, for me, mostly, but you’ve got stakes here, too, Tav.  If this keeps going the way it looks like it’s going, we’re going to have hordes of telekinetic lowbloods shipped off to slavery the second they come of age, doomed to guzzle gallons of this human poison to increase their power output by several hundreds of times the rate they could go before.  We’re talking faster ships, stronger shields, hotter projectiles, better defense and offense all around, and lowbloods with life expectancies of five sweeps after they reach adulthood. The empire will literally be able to zap us to fucking death on coffee once they figure out how to harness our psionics after we lose control.  She’s already expanding the coffee greenhouses into actual fucking plantations.  This shit is real and it is happening right now.”

You gape at Sollux, blood pusher stuttering in your chest.  He stares back at you, hard.  You try to swallow.  “But, only the humans have the ability to make the coffee, as its preparation is an art form that takes years to master, so...”

“So we’re stealing the human,” Sollux says.  “And we’re going to steal the other human, and we’re going to keep them as far away from the empire as possible.”

“Oh,” you say.  It all clicks together.  “So, this mission is about more than just saving Dirk and his friend from their horrible enslavement, but also about saving hundreds of trolls from future torture and death?”

“Hundreds of thousands of trolls.  Maybe millions,” Sollux says.  “Not to mention our own asses.”

“Wow!” you say. So you’re being a bigger, braver hero than you thought you were being.  Even though you’re terrified about the implications of Sollux’s explanation for your personal safety, your self-esteem ticks up a notch.

“So the plan is to go get Roxy?” Dirk asks.

“Yes!” you say, turning to him with a grin. 

“Fuck yes, I’m on board with this.  But I should just mention that everything I said about the two of us being the only ones who can make coffee...that was a lie.”

You come crashing back down. “What?”

“Preparing coffee is simple. All you have to do is grind up the beans and add hot water.  Literally anyone could do it with reasonable amounts of success. Sure, espresso requires a little more skill, but it shouldn’t be too hard for anyone to figure out after they’ve played with the machines for a bit.  That Roxy and I are the only ones who can properly make it was nothing but a lie for the sake of self-preservation.”

“Are you joking?” Sollux says. “Please tell me you’re joking.” You’re hoping he’s joking, too.

“Nope,” he says.

“Fuck!” Sollux says, digging his fingers into his hair. “This is the worst possible scenario!  Are you telling me that we just risked our necks to smuggle you out of that warship, and you’re not even that fucking important?”

Dirk shrugs. “Well, I appreciate it anyway.”

“You smug, bulge-groping fuck! We are going to get culled for this, and you really couldn’t give less of a shit, could you?” Sollux snarls, point an accusatory finger at him.  One of Dirk’s eyebrows rises just a bit above his shades. 

“I give as much of a shit as is warranted, given the circumstances,” Dirk says.  “Look, I don’t have a hell of a lot left in the universe to give a shit about, other than my one remaining friend and my dignity. Even the dignity part is shaky at this point.  So if the two of you are willing to help me salvage those things, I’ll show you all the gratitude I have and count you among the good guys in my book.  I definitely don’t want you to die or otherwise suffer in any way for helping me.  But trolls as a collective?  I doubt I’d be able to muster up a full fuck if you all destroyed yourselves from the inside out over coffee.  Y’all ransacked my world for it, and let’s just say I find it fittingly ironic that karma’s got it biting you in the ass.”

“Fuck you,” Sollux snaps. “If we get fucked over for this, it’s completely, one hundred percent entirely your fault, as both the person who introduced our race to coffee and as the guy we’re so magnanimously saving from captivity.  You owe us, okay, so don’t try to act like you can just shrug this whole thing off!”

“Are you really trying to tell me that I should feel responsible for whatever drug your species murdered my species to acquire?”

“I’m just saying that you brought it here, and you can help us take it out.”

“No.”

Sollux clenches his teeth together in a hard scowl.  “That’s it, we’re dropping the alien off on the next moon we see,” he says, turning away from Dirk.

“No!” you say.

“Look, even if I did agree for whatever moronic reason to help, how exactly do you expect to actually achieve these goals?” Dirk asks.

“I don’t fucking know, okay?” Sollux snarls, throwing his hands up.  “I thought it’d be good enough if we snuck in and broke out you and your stupid human partner in crime, as though that’s going to be an easy thing to do now that everyone knows you’ve escaped, but now we know that the second anyone fiddles with your equipment, we’re back to square one!”

“Wait, but...” you start, but you stop talking because you’re not entirely sure you have something relevant to say.  Your thoughts are jumbled, and the stress of the situation isn’t helping you much. You don’t want to put Sollux in a worse mood by saying something stupid.

Sollux eyes you irritably for a second.  “What?” he asks.

You bite your lip but force up your self-esteem to say what’s on your mind.  “But, so, they don’t know that the humans aren’t the only ones who can make it yet, right?” you say.  “So it’s likely that maybe everyone will be trying to catch them—us—instead of trying to mess with the coffee equipment, right?”

“Did I mention yet how addicting this shit is?” Sollux says.  “Do you really think all the highbloods are just going to lay back and wait for someone to catch us?  Hell, they’re probably going to start eating the stuff any moment now.”

“Which they’ll find to be an effective way to get high,” Dirk adds. 

“What, really?” Sollux asks, turning to gape at Dirk.  Dirk nods.

“Okay, okay, but!” you say before Sollux can fly off the handle again.  “What if we can find someone to work as our allies while the highbloods are distracted?  Because, if they’re trying hard to catch us, maybe someone else can sneak around to do things behind their backs.”

Sollux pauses and seems to consider your point.  He turns to his husktop and types some things while he thinks.  “Most of the coffee plants are on the other human’s warship,” he says.  “There are some on the one we left, but that operation is smaller because they’re not conducing experiments.  If we could burn down those plants, we can get rid of coffee for good.”

“So, would that work?” you ask, growing excited that maybe you offered a reasonable suggestion.

“We’d have to find someone as stupid as we are to help us pull it off,” Sollux says. He turns to look at you. “You realize that this is literal suicide, right?  There is no way we’re going to go skipping around the galaxy with a bunch of enraged highbloods in pursuit and not die.”

“Isn’t that...what we’re already doing?” you ask.  Sollux pulls a face.

“...Fuck.  Well, if we’re going to die, I guess it’s better to die this way than by working to death in a metal box.”

“That’s the spirit,” Dirk says, with the slight lilt that you’ve come to identify as his joking voice.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Sollux falls silent and begins to type a message to someone, and Dirk moves to sit next to you, keeping a keen eye on Sollux’s husktop.  A few quiet moments pass.  “So, um...” you say, breaking the silence, “since, uh, we just had a serious conversation about serious things, and collectively agreed that we might be in a treacherous situation—“

“’Might be’?” Sollux grumbles.

“Uh...anyway, how about we participate in an uplifting communication exercise, maybe of the team-building variety, one that might help us to strengthen our morale and better understand each other?”

You turn to Dirk, who you hope to be in a better mood than Sollux.  His lips twitch into his tiny, brief smile.  “What’d you have in mind?” he asks.

“Actually, I was thinking that you could tell us more about your culture, given that, um, knowing more about you might increase Sol—our empathy for you and facilitate communication.”

“Sure,” he says. “What do you want to know?”

“Uh...in the last note you gave me, you were talking about some of the, um, holidays and rituals humans have?”

“Right,” Dirk says, and his tiny smile grows a little bit bigger.  He picks up where he left off in his last note, which was about a fat man with large antler beasts who sneaks into people’s homes and leaves them either fun toys if they’re good or rocks if they’re bad.  From there, he begins to talk about other human rituals and festivals.  In one of them, humans purposely jump into the path of angry hoofbeasts and try to outrun them, and in another, they throw colored powder onto each other.  You like the idea of that festival. It sounds peaceful and harmonious, everyone throwing colors at each other like that.  But then you have to remind yourself that humans don’t think of colors the way that you do, since they don’t have the hemospectrum. When you try to get Dirk to explain what reasons anyone might have for conducting these rituals, he shrugs and says it probably has something to do with religions.  So you ask him about human religions, and that spirals into another huge discussion.  People wearing special garments, worshipping books, turning food into their gods and then eating them, sitting beneath waterfalls and starving themselves...you’re starting to think Gamzee’s religion sounds tame and pleasant in comparison.

“And when people see the likeness of Jesus on a piece of toast, it goes on national news and everyone flips their collective shit,” Dirk says.

“Jesus, he’s the one who, uh...”

“Partied with the unwanted members of society and turned bucket loads of water into an intoxicating substance called wine.  And when they tried to kill him for being such a cool guy, he came back from the dead to basically say, ‘I told you so,’ and peace out in style.”

“Wow, uh, human religion is much more complex and, um, lively than I gave it credit for. Would it help me to take notes?”

“Oh my god, he’s fucking with you!” Sollux says, finally turning away from his husktop to glare in your direction.  “There is no way anything he’s said so far is real. He’s obviously a pathological liar.”

“Hey, this shit is more real that kraft mayo,” Dirk says.  “I’d tell you to look it up, but unfortunately the human internet doesn’t exist anymore and my cultural heritage has been completely destroyed. By trolls.”

“Don’t listen to a word he says, Tav.”

“Uh...”

“You want to know my favorite fun fact about Earth religions?” Dirk asks.  You don’t know if he was joking before or not, but now that Sollux is pestering him, you think you can see the small signs that say he’s definitely teasing.  You try to suppress your smile for Sollux’s sake and nod.  Dirk’s head tilts a little towards Sollux.  “There are religions that literally worship dicks.”

“They worship...what?” you ask.

“Dicks,” Dirk says, and he points down at his crotch.  You glance down, and up at his face, and down again.  Because of all the detailed drawings Dirk made for you, you know exactly what he’s talking about.  You feel heat rise to your face. 

“What’s a dick?” Sollux says.

“I’m glad you asked,” Dirk says, and he pulls the paper out from of the back of his pants. “Got a pencil?”

You hand him a pencil and watch him sketch, and even though you know what he’s drawing, you can’t help but think about it in a new light.  Is worshipping their genitalia a common thing for humans to do?  Is that...something you should know about them, as a cultural point of reference?  Is it an aspect of politeness you’ve been failing to properly execute? You always thought Dirk just liked to draw porn more than the usual person, but maybe for humans, sexual intimacy is just...not a very private thing, or something to be celebrated openly and publically.  You don’t know how you feel about that.  Can you accommodate this aspect of his cultural identity?  You glance at Dirk and really consider him from this new point of view.  He’s no troll, but he’s not...bad either.  At all. Maybe even the opposite of bad, if you rethink his alien uniqueness.  You don’t think it would be terrible or even unwelcome, meeting him in the middle in terms of his cultural attitudes towards physical intimacy. You start to think about it maybe a bit too hard, and the heat in your face skyrockets.  You have to look away as he finished his drawing.

“This is a dick,” Dirk says, tapping on his drawing with his pencil.  You glance at Sollux to see his reaction, and you’re glad to notice that you’re not the only one with a blush.

“A simple explanation would have worked,” Sollux says drily.

“Nah, this is much more thorough.  We wouldn’t want to risk any miscommunication about something this delicate.  That said, I’ve been trying to get Tavros to draw a troll dick for me since we met, for the sake of science, but he keeps saying that he can’t draw.  Care to lend a hand?”

Dirk offers Sollux the pen and paper, and you recognize with some relief that he’s still joking, probably to annoy Sollux for being so short-tempered with him earlier. And it’s working. Sollux just glares at him. You can almost hear him grind his teeth together.  But, to your surprise, he puts on a malevolent smirk.  “You want to see a troll dick?  I can show you a troll dick.”  He turns to his husktop and types something into his browser. A video pops up. He presses play and turns it towards Dirk, and as soon as you see the images move, you know what it is.

“No shit, trolls make pornos?” Dirk says.  To Sollux’s obvious chagrin, he pulls his chair a little closer to the screen.

“Okay, well, uh, I’m, um, going to go to sleep, so...” you say, standing hastily.

“You’re sleeping already?” Dirk asks.  He glances over at you, and you don’t know if it’s just your imagination, but you can almost feel his eyes tracing your blush.  His small smile turns up at one corner into a tiny smirk.  “Well, we can always save the good parts for later.”

You hear Sollux snap at him as you leave the room, but you mind is too jumbled with embarrassment and something else to think about it.  Your face is still hot when you make it to the respiteblock you decided to claim. Only when you get there and you’re standing in front of your recuperacoon do you realize that it’s going to be too small for your horns.

Chapter Text

You wake up with a sharp gasp and a jolt that makes you feel sick.  For a second, you don’t know where you are.  You’re just scared.  Really scared, in ways you’re not used to feeling anymore.  You haven’t had a nightmare this vivid in sweeps. You actually can’t remember the last time you had a nightmare this vivid.  Maybe it’s the worst you’ve ever had.  You don’t have the mind to think that hard about it right now.  A familiar ache is pulling at the base of your horns from the strain of hanging off the lip of your recuperacoon, and the awkward position is starting to stiffen your spine. You inhale and pull yourself out.

You try not to dwell on the nightmare in the ablution trap while you wash off the slime.  You think of Rufio instead, and how he wouldn’t let this bother him if he were a real person who could have nightmares. He would be disappointed in you for forgetting your happy thoughts and allowing this regression into your past insecurities affect you so much.  But even though you’re imagining positive things as hard as you can, you still feel all the negative emotions running under your thoughts like an insidious riptide. You thought you would never have to deal with this again.  Not having terrible, bloody nightmares ranked similarly with having working legs for things that make confidence and self-esteem happen, and you thought you solved that problem when you got your properly fitted recuperacoon. But now you’re back to the way things were before, and you’re feeling the sharp drop in self-esteem that the nightmares bring.  But you have to be brave.  Scary nightmares can’t be enough to bring you down.  Even if you’re already beginning to dread the next time you’ll have to fall asleep.

The pod is quiet, but as you wander through the cramped passageways, trying to figure out what to do with yourself, you hear a faint tapping in the direction of the navigation block. You’re surprised to find Sollux still awake and typing away on his husktop.  Dirk is slumped in a chair to the side of the block, sleeping. You think.  You can’t tell with his shades covering his eyes, but he doesn’t move when you enter, and his breathing is even in a way that would suggest sleep.  You try to minimize the metallic sound of your footsteps as you make your way across the block.

“What are you doing up? You just left like an hour ago,” Sollux says as you slide into the chair next to him.

“Just an hour?” you ask, feeling your nutrition sack sink.

“How would I know? It’s not like I was keeping track,” he says, but he pauses when he glances at you.  You know it’s no use trying to wipe your face clean of whatever uncertainty is on it.  You’re exhausted.  He examines you for a moment and says, “Three.  It’s been three hours.”

You sigh.  “I guess that’s enough for now.”

“What’s up?” Sollux asks, his eyebrows pulling down.  There’s no use pretending there’s not a problem.  You try to battle down your embarrassment and shrug.

“The recuperacoons are too small for my horns.”

“Fuck, what? Really?”

“Yeah, but I think, if I can manage three hours of sleep, that’s probably okay.”

“Are you kidding? There’s one ship full of subjugglators hyped up on a stimulant and another full of pissed off subjugglators going through withdrawal, and you can’t fit in a fucking recuperacoon? Your pan is going to get wrecked!”

“They’re just nightmares,” you say, partially because you don’t want him to worry and partially because you don’t want him to be right.

“Can’t you eat some slime or something to make up for it?”

“Well...according to Gamzee, or the example he’s set, that’s probably not the best idea.”

“Oh, shit, yeah...well, what the fuck are we going to do about this?”

“Nothing, I guess.” He stares at you, and you shrug again.

“...Fuck,” he says.

“So, um...when did Dirk fall asleep?” you ask in an attempt to change the subject.  Sollux scowls and turns back to what he was doing.

“After he got tired of being a disgusting pervert,” he says.  “This guy is a freak, Tav, and that’s saying a lot coming from me. I mean, I’m a freak, but he’s a freak.  I don’t know why you like him so much.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“You didn’t stick around for the Q&A on troll reproduction.  You’d change your mind if you heard the sort of questions he was asking me.  That shit was nasty.”

“Okay, maybe, but I’m almost positive he’s just messing around when he does things like that.”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you!  He’s fucking with us. He’s probably going to use us to rescue his friend and then throw us to the highbloods like slabs of meat to a pack of rabid barkbeasts.”

“No, I don’t think so. I think he’s genuinely grateful, and also has a respectable sense of honor.”

“What the hell gave you that idea?”

“Mostly just the things he’s told me about humans, and their cultural codes of decency.  Also because, when he told me about his Bro, the human guardian who raised him, he said that he was specifically chosen to survive the apocalypse because of his positive qualities of fortitude and cleverness, and I don’t think that would be the case if he weren’t a good person with admirable traits.”

Sollux makes a derisive nose through his nose.  “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Uh, well, I think it’s likely you’ll get that chance, when we’re rescuing his friend.”

“No,” Sollux says, and he stops typing to turn towards you.  He gives you a hard look.  “He’s not coming with us.  He’s staying right here, in hiding, while we go get the other human.  Got it?”

“Uhhh...” you say, and you glance towards Dirk’s sleeping form.  “I don’t think he’d like that.”

“I don’t give a shit what he does or doesn’t like!” Sollux says.  He grabs your horn and yanks your face back to look at him. “He stays here. We’re not going to go sneaking around with a wanted stolen alien when we’ve already got enough to think about. And if he gets caught, you know what we would’ve accomplished?”

“Uh...”

“Nothing.  We’d be dead, and we would’ve accomplished nothing. I don’t care how far you have your fingers up your nook for how cool you think he is, he stays in the ship. Got it?”

“Um...” you say. Sollux stares you down, and you sigh. “Okay.”

“Got it?”

“Got it.”

He lets go of your horn, which begins to ache again.  You reach up and rub your skull at the base before it turns into a headache. Sollux goes back to typing, and you watch numbers and symbols move across his screen.  “What are you doing?” you ask.

“Covering our asses,” he says. “Setting everything up. Being useful, unlike someone I could mention.”

You almost feel guilty before you remember that you have been useful.  “I found out about the coffee, at the risk of bodily injury,” you say.  “I was the one who came up with the plan.”

Sollux scoffs lightly, but the corner of his lip turns up a little.  “Okay, yeah, I guess I’ll give you that.  But I’ve got the shit end of the deal here with the workload. Keeping ahead of the game is delicate shit, Tav.  You’d better be happy I decided to come along for the ride, or you would’ve been caught and butchered by now.  I mean, fuck.  They’ve been trying to pinpoint our position for hours, and they’d probably have a fucking horde of ships on our asses if I didn’t have the skill set to disable them.”  He snickers, and you can tell he enjoys showing off his skills, even though he probably means what he says about your situation.  If circumstances were different, you would really appreciate the idea of him sabotaging a bunch of enraged highbloods from the safety of your pod.  But you’re not as spirited as you were before you went to sleep, and you don’t really want the reminder of how completely you would have failed without Sollux. You would’ve died. You really would’ve, and you almost went through with it anyway.

You shift in your seat. “I forgot to say before, being distracted,” you say, looking at Sollux, “but, uh...thank you, for deciding to come with us, and for preventing us from being caught.” You notice Sollux glance at you, and you make sure you look like you mean what you’re saying as much as you actually do.  His fingers stutter on his keyboard.

“Yeah, well, someone had to do it,” he says, and he resumes his typing.  “Things would’ve just gotten worse if you went in alone and failed. Security would’ve gotten tighter, and by the time anyone else figured any of it out, we’d all be fucked. But we would’ve been fucked anyway if you hadn’t thrown up a red flag in the first place, so...I guess I should thank you for having the steel shameglobes to go in and uncover all this bullshit.  If you hadn’t, fuck, I would’ve been so screwed.”

“Really?” you ask with surprise and a small spark of delight.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he says immediately.  “That wasn’t encouragement.  Like you need another excuse to justify your stupidity.”

“Uh, well, my stupidity doesn’t seem so stupid now, does it?” you say, grinning.

“No, it’s still stupid. Just because your stupidity turned out to be useful doesn’t mean it stopped being stupid.  I get that you’re trying to stop being pathetic or whatever the fuck you were talking about with that dumb spiel on being a hero or going on adventures or whatever, but that doesn’t mean you can let your vapid imagination confidence fairy convince you to walk into the line of fire like a brainless tool.”

“My...you mean Rufio?”

“Whatever its name is. You know, Tav, most people don’t personify their pathological need to compensate for their short-comings, but whatever.”

“Uh, no, okay, he’s not that. He’s my self-confidence, and he’s what makes me to remember to have self-esteem and not give into negative thoughts about myself.”

“Oh, here’s an idea! Just don’t give into negative thoughts about yourself.  There, done. No need for vapid imagination confidence fairies.”

You frown. “Uh, actually, I think you could take a feather from my book, since, if I remember right, you have negative thoughts about yourself all the time, and could use reminders to not be that way.”

“Okay, wow, no. That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because I have actual problems, you nooksniffing fuckpod!  I can’t will away my fucked up mental issues just because some special voice in my head tells me to ignore common sense and act like a jacked up shitsieve.  I already have enough voices in my head, thanks, and they sure as hell aren’t giving me impassioned motivational speeches about feeling good about myself.”

He scowls, and you feel a little bad for forgetting about his issues.  And even though your first impulse is to tell yourself not to feel bad because of the self-esteems, you think maybe this time you deserve it. So you let yourself feel bad. “Sorry,” you say.

“Tell it to your stupid imaginary friend.  I don’t need your pity,” Sollux spits.  He keeps scowling, and you feel a little worse.

“Well, uh...” you say, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, “if you need someone to, um, act the function of what Rufio serves for me, I can be willing to give you reassurance for the purpose of not feeling bad about yourself.”

Sollux’s fingers stutter on his keyboard again.  “So, what, are you offering to channel your dumb self-confidence muse to lead me through attitude counseling?”

“Oh, you mean as in a scenario in which I roleplay as Rufio for your benefit?” you ask, perking up. You wish you had thought of that idea.  It sounds pretty good. But Sollux puts on a grand show of rolling his eyes, and his fingers begin to tap at his keyboard again.

“Not interested.”

You sigh, a little disappointed. “Well, okay, if you say so, but, uh, if that ever becomes a thing you want to try...”

“Sounds to me like you just want an excuse to act out your stupid fantasy confidence power trip,” Sollux says. “That’s some kinky shit, Tav.”

“Uh, no, that’s not at all what I was thinking when I offered that option,” you say, but your face gets a little warm. 

“Good, because I don’t want to get stuck cleaning up whatever mess your misplaced fake confidence exploits leave in your wake.”

You slouch back in your seat and grumble, “Yeah, well, my fake confidence is telling me now not to listen to your mean-spirited grumpiness about my attempts to have self-esteem.”

“Tell your fake confidence to bite me.”

“Um, well, if my fake confidence were a little less fake, maybe it would take you up on that offer.”

“Good thing it’s so fake, because that’s too black for my tastes.”

You want to reply, but you can’t think of anything to say that would sound clever the way you want to sound, so you don’t.  You shift to get more comfortable in your seat and watch Sollux type.  The consistent rhythm is soothing in a way. As minutes pass with no sounds but the tapping of his keys, you watch him switch between chat logs and codes, and your eyes grow itchy with exhaustion.  You don’t really know when they close, but your dreams come strong and shockingly vivid.  The nightmares are sharp, but every time you’re about to jolt awake, your dreams lull and an unfamiliar sense of calm washes through your half-conscious mind. You can’t be sure, but when you finally wake up, you almost think you can remember the soothing touch of someone running their fingers through your hair.

“Thank god,” Sollux grumbles when you reach up to touch your head.  It takes a moment for your eyesight to focus and for you to reorient yourself. The nightmare images are quicker to dull this time, maybe because of the strange sense of ease that kept interrupting them.  Your back pops a couple of times as you pull yourself to sit upright. “Hey, Tav,” Sollux says, glaring at his husktop, “if you’re finally ready to wake up, can you do something with your alien project?  He’s pissing me off.”

“Uh...?” you say, turning to look at Dirk.  He’s awake and alert, but you can’t see any signs that he’s doing anything annoying in any way. “What...is he doing?”

“He’s fucking staring at me,” Sollux snaps.  “And he keeps asking me questions.  I’m busy here.”

Dirk shrugs. “I’m just interested in troll technology,” he says.

“Yeah, well, I’m interested in not being bothered,” Sollux responds.

“You weren’t mad when I was bothering you last night,” you say, beginning to remember your conversation.

“That was different,” Sollux says.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t hate you. Also because I’ve got something important on my plate right now and I don’t have time to play cultural ambassador for a nosy alien.”

“Is it something serious?” you ask, leaning forward to look at his screen.

“Fuck if I know! I can’t figure out what it is. Something weird is moving around the system and messing with my shit, but it’s not like anything I’ve ever encountered before.  Whatever it is, it’s not tripping me up or ruining anything as far as I can tell, and I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Oh, that...” you say, but you don’t really know enough about what he’s talking about to actually provide any sort of meaningful comment.  “It sounds weird,” you finish lamely.

“It is weird, and I don’t want to sit here trying to figure it out with your pet staring at the back of my head like a creep.”  He grinds his teeth together, and you sigh. You turn to Dirk.

“Well, um...maybe we can find something else to do?”

“How about you let me take a look at your legs?” he suggests.

“Fucking pervert,” Sollux mutters just loudly enough for him to hear.

“I’m interested in robotics,” he says with a small shrug.  “I built my fair share of robots back in the day, before I was reduced to an organic coffee machine.”

“Oh, really?” you say, growing interested.

“Yeah.  It’s a hobby.”

“You, uh, never mentioned it before.”

“Because he’s lying,” Sollux grumbles.

“Because I wasn’t entertaining the possibility that I would get a chance to pursue that particular hobby again,” Dirk says as though he didn’t hear.  “And if it didn’t matter anymore, why would I talk about it? We’ve only been exchanging information for a relatively short time, after all.  I’m willing to bet I still have more to learn about you, right?”

“Uh, yeah, I think that’s probably true,” you say.

“So there you have it. And since we’ve both still got things to learn, I’d like to take this opportunity to get to know you a little better.”

That’s all the convincing you need.  “Okay,” you say, standing up.  “Uh, where do you want me to stand?  Or sit?”

“Really?” Sollux says, sending you a deadpan glance.

“What?”

“Are you going to offer him a dance when you strip your pants off?”

“Uh,” you say, and you can feel your face turn bronze.  You glance at Dirk, but his face is as stoic as it always is.  You turn back to Sollux and try not to hunch your shoulders with embarrassment.  “No, that is, I think he has a fair point, about getting to know each other and our personal hobbies, and, also, I think that, what he said about not getting the chance to pursue his hobby, it’s sad to think about, and so I want to help him to rekindle his personal interests in reasonable and not at all questionable pursuits—“

“Okay, I get it,” Sollux says, waving a hand at you in an obvious signal to shut up.  “But stay in here.”

“I thought you wanted us to leave?”

“I changed my mind.”

You glance at Dirk again, and he shrugs.  “I really wasn’t planning on doing anything that would need any privacy.  Unless you wanted to nudge things in that direction.”

“Uh, what?” you say, and your already hot face grows a little hotter.  The corner of Dirk’s lip twitches up.

“I’m joking,” he says. “Take a seat anywhere. I just want to take a look at the sort of tech trolls are packing.”

You don’t know what to think anymore, but, since this is the first time Dirk gave you any verbal confirmation that he was joking, you choose to believe him. In respect for Sollux, you move away from his chair and pull your seat to the other side of the block. Dirk moves over to you and sits in front of you on the floor.

“You wanna pull up your pant legs for me?” he asks, gesturing at your calves.  “I’d do it myself, but I wouldn’t want your angry chaperone to blow a fuse.”  He glances over his shoulder just in time to catch an irritated look from Sollux, whose ears turn yellow with a flush.  He grumbles something harsh under his breath and returns his attention to his husktop.  Dirk’s lips twitch into a small smirk.  He turns his head just enough to quirk an eyebrow at you, as if to include you in the joke, and you smile.

“Sure,” you say, stifling a laugh. You bend over and pull your pants up above your knees.  Dirk wipes his face clean of the small signs of expression, and he leans forward to examine the intricate mechanics controlling your knees.  You’ve looked at them before yourself, when you’re alone and bored, but you don’t have the knowledge to understand what makes them really work.  You just know that Equius probably did a good job putting them together.  You always feel a little uncomfortable when he’s examining you for a tune-up, since he always wears that hard scowl and sweats all over the place, but you don’t get that feeling from Dirk.  At this angle, you can see through the small gap between his sunglasses and his light eyebrows.  His eyes move back and forth in tiny, rapid movements.  They’re a strange color, like a burnt orange, somewhere between your bronze and the gold Sollux’s eyes would be if it weren’t for the mutation of his psionics.  And intense.  You trust immediately that he was telling the truth about his interest in robotics, because his concentration shows in his eyes.  You don’t know if you’ve ever concentrated as hard as he seems to be concentrating right now, but he makes it seems so effortless. Like he does this all the time. You always thought he was smart, but now you really think he must truly be very intelligent. Even though he hasn’t said anything yet, you’re impressed.

“Do you mind much if I touch you?” he asks, and his eyes flicker up to look at you.  You’re a little embarrassed that he’s caught you staring, but if it bothers him, he doesn’t show it.  But he never does show anything, so you can’t use that as an indication of his personal feelings.  You glance away to be polite.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you say. You glance back down when you feel a small shift in your hips.  He turns your leg out gently to get a better look at the inside of your knee. You’re not nervous about his touch the way you are with Equius.  He doesn’t seem like he could crush you on accident.  He seems careful and thoughtful and very controlled, just like all of his movements.  You almost wish you could feel his touch on your knee.  He slides his hand down to your ankle and coaxes your knee joint to straighten.

“This is some advanced shit,” he says, bending and straightening the joint.

“Is it?” you ask.

“Yeah.  I’m not about to take you apart to figure it out, but I wish I could.”  He sets your ankle on his shoulder and looks underneath the joint.  “Maybe we could snag a robot during our rescue raid so I can get my hands dirty.”

“No,” Sollux says.

“Well, if Lispy says no, I guess that’s that,” Dirk says.  His eyes flash up to yours and he sends you a tiny smile.  You bite down a laugh as Sollux turns in his seat to glare at Dirk.

“Lispy?”

“Hey, do you know how this is connected up to your nervous system?” Dirk asks, ignoring Sollux. “I’m assuming this isn’t all relying on simple muscle cues.”

“Oh, yeah,” you say, sending Sollux an apologetic glance.  “It’s, um, my spine.  The place where I broke it, there’s an artificial spine that goes around it.  Here.”  You reach behind you and touch the place on your back where the artificial spine starts.

“No shit.  An artificial spine?”

“Yeah.  Is that...not something humans have?”

“Not yet.  We were working on it, but that’s some advanced technology where I come from.  The nervous system is complicated.”

“Do you...want to take a look at it, then?” you ask.  You don’t think it’s a weird thing to suggest, but for some reason, you feel something flutter in your torso.

“Hell yeah, if you’re cool with it.”

“Sure,” you say, and you turn to sit sideways in the chair so he can see your back.  You lift your shirt up under your armpits. He moves behind you, and the fluttering feeling in your torso gets a little stronger.  You have to make yourself not jump when you feel his fingers brush against your skin.

“Damn,” he says in an impressed sort of way, and that word makes you feel something positive that you can’t exactly identify.  Like being important or impressive, like when you realized you could help him with your wisdom or save him from his captivity.  But different somehow.  And you don’t really understand why, because you weren’t the one who made the robotics or the artificial spine, which is surely the main thing he finds impressive in this case.  You think it’s just because no one has ever said “damn” while looking at your body before.

“Is it, um...cool?” you ask, trying to ignore the fluttering.  “I’ve never seen it before.”

“It’s very cool,” Dirk says. You’re sure he’s just humoring you, but his fingers trace it down your back and you almost shiver. You look up and catch Sollux watching you.  He starts when you make eye contact and turns around, growing yellow around the ears again. That makes you feel weird. Part of you wishes you had a little more privacy, but part of you is glad Sollux is around. And that combination of emotions just confuses you, so that you spend the rest of Dirk’s examination trying to figure out what the feelings in your torso mean.

Chapter Text

Without regimented sleep and waking cycles, you can’t really tell how much time is passing ever. You try to go by the clock on your husktop, but the numbers don’t mean much when you don’t have to work or meet a schedule or do anything really.  It takes you a while to figure out what to do with yourself.  At first, you’re afraid of bothering Sollux, but you don’t want to hover around Dirk either since you don’t really know much about his personal opinions regarding the constant presence of friendly company, so you wander around the pod and entertain yourself the best you can. But you begin to notice that you’re never alone for very long when you do this.  Dirk might disappear into the pod for a stretch of time, but he eventually emerges again freshly showered and comes to find you for conversation and the mutual enjoyment of recreational activities. You teach him how to play fiduspawn, which he learns so quickly you’re almost afraid he’ll actually beat you soon, even though you’re really good at the game.  He’s unusually smart with strategy.  You have experience on your side, though, so you just need to really work your deck and your excellent skills with the creatures you spawn.

You check in with Sollux sometimes, too, and he lets you talk to him about your games even though he seems really busy almost all the time.  He’s constantly switching between trollian and a couple other programs, even while he’s having conversations with you.  You feel like you’re bothering him a lot, but you keep accidentally spending more time in the navigation block despite your efforts to be polite, mostly because Dirk shows up to find you and starts his own conversations with Sollux that always seem to end in rude remarks.  And after a while, you accidentally begin to play most of your fiduspawn games in the navigation block as well.  You even get Sollux to play once or twice. He doesn’t complain until after you find out Dirk likes slam poetry, and then your loudness starts to distract him from his other activities.  His irritation spikes when Dirk begins to work subtle burns into his lyrics in response to the complaints.  You ask Sollux if it would be better for you to go somewhere else, but he shrugs it off, even though he’s usually scowling and making obscene hand gestures at Dirk in the meanwhile.  So you accidentally begin to spend all of your time in the navigation block, except for when you need to eat or use the load gaper or ablution trap.

You even begin to sleep in the navigation block.  You tried to sleep in your recuperacoon one more time, but you could hardly stay asleep for more than an hour.  You don’t know why your nightmares are so much more manageable when you sleep in the navigation block, but you think it might have something to do with the presence of other people.  Maybe you just feel safer when you’re with someone else.  It doesn’t make much sense to you, but you’re glad for the relief regardless.  You still wake up earlier than you should, though, so you’ve started taking short naps whenever you get too tired instead of trying to get all your sleep done at once. Since you don’t really have anything else to do, it works out well enough.

Spending all your time in the navigation block has made you notice things about Sollux that you don’t think you would have noticed otherwise.  He doesn’t seem to sleep at all, and you don’t think you’ve seen him get up to actually make himself his own food yet.  At least he gets up to use the load gaper. When you ask him about it, he tells you he’s got too much going on in his think pan to bother. Since you’re part of the reason he’s so busy, you don’t think you’re right to argue with him, but you do make him food whenever you go to the nutrition block.  You have to remind him to eat it now and then.  There’s nothing you can do about his sleep, though.

You don’t know how many cycles have passed when you finally return to the navigation block after visiting the load gaper to find Sollux asleep against his husktop screen.  Your initial reaction is to be relieved, but then an alarm goes off in your think pan.  “How long has he been asleep?” you ask Dirk, who’s doodling on some paper in the corner of the block.

“No idea,” he says, glancing over.  “Not longer than you’ve been gone.”

“Uh, shit, we’ve got to get him to a recuperacoon,” you say.  “I don’t know if his brain issues, with the voices and whatever else causes him to have problems, would be made worse by the, uh, current situation with the chucklevoodoos, but I don’t think he should be sleeping outside of his ‘coon, just in the case that he’s particularly susceptible to that sort of thing.” You pull Sollux’s face off of his husktop and wipe the drool off the screen before sliding your arm underneath his armpit.  In a flash, Dirk is standing on the other side of the chair.

“Need a hand?” he asks, and he’s already supporting Sollux’s back.  You don’t think you do need a hand, since Sollux is rather skinny, but you might have some trouble getting him over the lip of his recuperacoon without jostling him around.

“Thanks,” you say. Dirk nods.

“Lead the way.”

You both carry him to the nearest respiteblock, and Dirk helps you strip him down to his boxers without waking him up.  He’s a hard sleeper, which isn’t surprising given how long he went without sleeping. You wonder if that’s how he managed to work both of his jobs on the warship.  You and Dirk gently slip him into his recuperacoon, and you make sure he’s covered and comfortable before leaving.

“Damn, I thought I had trouble chilling the fuck out,” Dirk says as you both walk back to the navigation block.  “Is he always this way?”

“Uh, I don’t really know,” you admit.  “I think I remember Aradia mentioning something about this sort of pattern of behavior, but it was a long time ago, so I forgot the important details that could be considered useful now.”

“Aradia?”

“Oh, uhh...” you say, and you feel your nutrition sack sink a bit.  You forgot that Dirk doesn’t know who Aradia is. You sit down in Sollux’s chair and close his husktop with a sigh.  “Aradia was...a mutual friend we both had, who was tragically killed in a bad way.”

“Oh,” Dirk says, and the short response makes you feel that he can sense your sadness on the subject. He sits down as well. “Is this more murderous troll bullshit?” he asks after a pause.

“I...guess, yes, that would be a way to put it, although I never thought about it that way until you just mentioned it now,” you say.  ‘Murderous troll bullshit’ seems like such a simple and understandable phrase for Dirk to say, but it paints the memories floating to the front of your think pan a different color.  That whole part of your life was devastating, but never in a way that felt odd or out of place, given your culture and upbringing. Things like that happened to lowbloods like you and Aradia.  Trolls like you got hurt or killed all the time.  But now, thinking about it from Dirk’s perspective, from the perspective of an alien whose life wasn’t built around those sorts of assumptions, you feel a new and much more painful emotion about the matter.  Like maybe it didn’t have to happen that way, or shouldn’t have happened at all.  You sigh again, much more heavily.

“Remember when I told you, about how I was forced by the mind control of my legs to walk myself off a cliff?” you say, glancing at Dirk.  You don’t know why you’re telling him this, since you don’t really like to talk about it, but you feel that maybe he can understand in a different way than anyone else what your bad emotions mean to you.  He understands ‘murderous troll bullshit’ in a way no one else does.  And anyway, you did want to share with him the experience of getting to know each other better, right?

“Yeah?” he says.

“Aradia was my FLARPing partner, and we were called Team Charge, because together we took on hard challenges and were generally adventurous and brave.  At least, she was, and she inspired me to try to be that way as well, because I admired her.  But we were both lowbloods, and she was even lower than I am on the hemospectrum, the lowest, I think.  So, uh, anyway, when I got brainwalked off the cliff, she was pretty angry, and she tried to defend my honor by the usage of ghosts as a means to extract emotional and psychological revenge.  So the person who served as the aggressor in these events, she, um...she took control of Sollux’s mind, and she made him to murder Aradia with his psychic powers.  He was dating Aradia at the time, I think, so it wasn’t a good situation for him at all, but...I don’t know much about how he felt, because I never asked him about it. I think that this tragedy might be one of the reasons that Sollux and I maybe didn’t talk as much as we could have after that.  Since we both got Aradia killed on accident with our...well, by our, I mean mostly my weaknesses, because Sollux didn’t do anything wrong, whereas...my inability to defend myself set off the chain of events that caused this to happen. But Sollux, as the weapon of death, surely also feels bad about it as well, in different ways. Maybe.  I don’t really want to ask.”

“Holy shit,” Dirk says, and both of his eyebrows lift above his shades.  “That’s seriously fucked up.”

You nod.  “It, uh...it’s pretty sad to think about, actually, so...but, uh, as someone who has also experienced tragedies related to the loss of cherished friends, I thought maybe you would understand.”

You fall silent, hoping that you weren’t out of line for saying so.  The loss of one friend doesn’t compare with the loss of an entire species, but you want him to realize that you know he understands.  You think he understands, at least. And that does matter to you.

“Yeah, I understand,” he says after a pause.  “Maybe not all that about mind control and whatever other convoluted bullshit was involved, but I get it.  You know...I wasn’t strong enough to save my friends either.  I think we can both appreciate how much it sucks to feel helpless like that.”

Something tightens in your torso, and you don’t know if you feel better or worse for what he said. To know someone as clever and capable as Dirk could feel helpless the same way you did and often still do is both reassuring and terrifying.   For one of the first times in your life, you wonder if maybe it wasn’t just your weaknesses that made everything fall apart.  Maybe things fall apart sometimes whether you’re strong or not.  Or maybe it’s murderous troll bullshit that makes things fall apart.  You wish that weren’t the case, but the more you think about it, the more you’re really starting to doubt your own culture.

You sigh and open your mouth to speak, but the shrill shriek of the pod’s alarm cuts you off, and your blood pusher seizes in your chest.  The navigation block flashes red.  Out of the observation windows, you see far in the distance a gigantic warship, larger than the one you left, boasting the emblem of the Alternian Fleet.

Before you can think of anything to do through your panic, Dirk is standing next to you and leaning over the control panel.  He pushes a button, and the alarms silence.  You look up at him with wide eyes.  “What do we do?  Should I get Sollux? I’ll go wake him up!”

“Wait,” he says, and he lays a hand on your shoulder to keep you in your seat.  “Let him sleep.”

“But that’s—isn’t that the ship, the one with your friend?”

“Looks that way.”

“So, we should definitely prepare to land, or at least to fool them into not knowing who we are, right? They probably know to be searching for us, right?”

“It’ll be fine. They haven’t seen us yet. We’re cloaked.”

“We’re...cloaked? Can escape pods do that?”

“Not literally physically cloaked.  Our signals. They have no way of knowing we’re here, since we’re still too far to be seen.”

You frown in confusion. “How do you...are you sure?”

“I’ve been taking notes,” he says with a microscopic smirk.  “Don’t worry.  We have some time to let Sollux sleep a bit before we fly in and go crazy.  He probably needs it.  And we need the time to plan.”

You feel uneasy, but you nod anyway.  Even though you have no idea what Dirk means by ‘taking notes,’ you trust him to be generally competent at basically everything, so you assume he knows what he’s talking about. And he’s right that Sollux needs some sleep, and that you need time to plan, probably, even though ‘we’ in terms of making plans doesn’t seem to include you.  Dirk returns to his seat and stares out the window at the warship, obviously deep in thought.  You don’t want to interrupt his brain from making intelligent strategies, so you lean back in your chair and try to relax.  Relaxing is a hard thing to do, though, when you have to start thinking about all the dangerous and terrifying risks you’ll be taking to rescue Dirk’s friend. You have no idea what you’ll be facing.  You just know that most of the important people in the Alternian empire are on this warship, including the Grand Highblood and His Honorable Tyranny.  That would be enough to scare you even if they were the only important people on the ship at all.  But you also know Gamzee is on this ship.  That makes you feel a little better, but not by much.  You really don’t want to find Gamzee drinking coffee or suffering from its effects.  The thought makes you feel a little sick.  You decide to stand up and walk around instead of doing nothing and scaring yourself with thoughts.

Hours pass. You rearrange the nutrition block and use the ablutions trap.  You play with your fiduspawn monsters and put them to sleep in your respiteblock. You sit on the floor in Sollux’s respiteblock and stare at your robolegs to try to figure out how they work.  It feels like two whole cycles pass before you hear Sollux groan from inside his ‘coon. You rush over as his head pokes out.

“Fuck,” he says, running his hand through his hair.  “Where...? Shit, I fell asleep, didn’t I?”

“Uh, yes, you did, and we made sure to put you in your ‘coon so as to prevent the having of bad nightmares,” you explain. 

He stares at you with a groggy expression for a second and says, “Thanks.  How long have I been asleep?”

“A long time, probably because you stayed up for so long.”

“Fuuuuuuuck, I hate it when I do this,” he says, and he sinks back into his ‘coon with a groan.  “I’m gonna be out of it for a whole cycle.”

“Uh, well,” you say, peeking down at him, “that...is probably not good, seeing as how we’ve basically arrived at the destination...”

“What?” he asks, popping out of the ‘coon so fast you stumble backwards onto your butt.

“Yeah, um, the warship? We’ve been following it for a while now.”

“And you didn’t think it would be a good idea to, I don’t know, wake me up?”

“Um, yes and no? I did think to wake you up, but also you needed to sleep, so Dirk and I decided that we would leave you alone for a bit.”

Sollux scrambles out of the ‘coon and hurries out of the room, stripping his boxers off on the way to your chagrin and complaining the whole time.  You can hear him complaining in the ablution trap for the minute and a half he spends cleaning off the slime, and you hear him coming back before he actually stomps through the door.  You look away for modesty’s sake as he puts on new clothes. “How they haven’t noticed us yet is beyond me, but we’re a couple of lucky assholes to still be alive right now.  Do you know what could’ve happened if they picked up on our signal?” Sollux asks, turning to you, finally fully clothed.

“Uh...but Dirk said that our signal was cloaked.”

“Yeah, when I’m monitoring it!  Cloaking our signal involves a lot of intercepting and jamming other signals.  Flying and navigating all Alternian vessels creates a ton of data input and output that can be easily tracked, especially when we’re tracking the coordinates of another ship!  We can’t just permanently cloak ourselves unless we intend to just float around space like a bunch of directionless idiots.”

Your nutrition sack drops. “But...Dirk said it was okay, and that he took notes, and that I could trust him.”

“’Took notes’?” Sollux repeats.  “Is that why he spent so much of his time hovering over my shoulder?  Does he really think that’s enough to figure out such a complicated system? That conceited piece of shit is going to get us killed with his overinflated hubris, and you’re going to let him, because you’re a dunce.”

He pokes you in the chest, and you honestly feel really bad, not only because you might’ve gotten all of you into a lot of trouble but also because you did trust Dirk and now you don’t know if you should.  You try for a second to imagine Rufio giving you a pep talk, but you’re too full of conflicting emotions to have a good imagination.  And in the end, Rufio is fake and can’t undo your mistakes. “Sorry...” you mumble. Sollux’s finger hovers on your chest for a second, but you’re too ashamed to look him in the face.

“I’ll fix it. Don’t worry about it,” he says in a clipped voice, and he turns to leave the room. 

You wander after him and try not to wince when you hear him snap at Dirk.  But his angry reprimands stop abruptly as you enter the navigation block.  He’s looking at his husktop, and his mouth is open mid-word.  “What the fuck?” he says.

“Yes?” Dirk responds. He’s got that little smirk on his lips.

“We are cloaked.”

“I know.”

“How the fuck did you—?”

“I’ve got a sharp learning curve.”

Sollux turns to gape at Dirk, whose smirk grows just a little bigger.  Sollux’s face flushes gold.  “You think you’re hot shit, don’t you?” he says.

“Only as much as you think you’re hot shit,” Dirk responds, stretching.  “I think we can both agree that neither of us are perfect, but we have our respective talents.  Are we going to continue with this mission or what?”

“Oh, well, excuse me.  I didn’t know you had everything under control.  Looks like I’m the dunce here.  Just a self-indulgent asshole, that’s me.  With this cool guy human genius on board, I’m barely even needed.  Why didn’t you just land us if you’ve got everything locked and loaded, cool guy human genius?  I thought you didn’t care about the mission.  You could’ve been in and out by now.  What are you waiting on me for?” Sollux grumbles as he sits down at his chair and begins to type into his husktop.

“What, and leave you asleep on the pod while I try to figure out my way around a foreign warship? That sounds like a shitty thing to do to you and Tavros.  I’m not interested in setting you both up to be captured.”

“Thanks,” Sollux says drily, but you notice the tips of his ears grow a little more yellow. You don’t know what that means, but you’re just all-around confused anyway, so you don’t think much of it. You shuffle in and sit next to Sollux.

“Are we...landing, then?”

“Yes,” Sollux says.

“And we’re not in trouble for being not cloaked?”

Sollux’s lips tighten, and Dirk answers for him.  “I had it under control.”

“Really?” you ask, perking up.

“Stop talking, I’m concentrating,” Sollux interrupts.  But Dirk puts his hand on the control panel and flashes you a brief thumbs-up, and relief explodes in your chest.  You knew you could trust him.  Now, you trust him even more.  You grin, and you barely notice Sollux roll his eyes.

“This is what’s going to happen,” Sollux says as you near the ship.  It looms in front of your pod, dark against the void of space, lit from the back by a faraway sun.  Its size alone is enough to make your blood pusher sink.  You turn away and look at Sollux instead. “We’re going to land in their escape bay, and our pod is going to blend in with theirs.  I have a distraction set up on the launch pads. No one should notice us come in, and we want to keep it that way.”

Just as he says, a hatch opens on the side of the ship, and your pod maneuvers smoothly into the round opening.  It slides onto a track that moves it to a space among many escape pods, which all look exactly the same as the pods in the escape bay of the ship you left.  “Okay, now what?” Dirk asks.

“Now, you’re both going to stay here, quietly, doing nothing, until I come back with the alien,” Sollux says.  He turns to glare at Dirk.  “And that isn’t a suggestion, asshole.  The voices of the imminently dead constantly screaming in my think pan don’t include ours right now, and I want to keep it that way, so don’t fuck anything up with your cool guy human genius bullshit.  Got it?”

“Is that my new nickname? Because I’ll take it.”

“Fuck you! Your new nickname is Dick. Aptly named after your disgusting human reproductive tube.  And look, it sounds just like your real name.  How’s that for clever?”

“Got it,” Dirk says. “You go, we stay here, and I’m Dick, the Cool Guy Human Genius Formerly Known as Dirk.”

“Wait, uh,” you say, looking at Dirk with a furrowed brow, “is that...okay?  I mean, you’re okay with staying here?”

He shrugs. “If that’s the plan.”

“Really?”

“Don’t give him ideas!” Sollux says, slapping his hand over your mouth.  He gets a grip on your face and turns your head to look at him. “And you, stay here.  Got it?  I don’t need you doing anything dangerous or stupid.  This is a delicate operation, and there are a lot of reasons I don’t want or need you getting involved. Not the least of which is your bravado factory of an imagination, courtesy of Rufio the Confidence Fairy. Okay?”

He lets go of your face, and you try not to pout.  “I guess...okay,” you say.

“Okay,” he says with a nod. He takes a deep breath. “All right, I’m going.”

You follow him to the pod’s hatch and watch him drop to the floor, shifting on your legs. He looks up at you as the hatch closes, and you manage to send him a small wave before he’s out of sight. With a sigh, you return to the navigation block.

  Dirk is leaning on the control panel, watching Sollux fly away.  You sit down next to him.  “Um, maybe we shouldn’t sit at the window, in case someone comes by?” you say.

“We’re not going to stay here for long,” he says.

“Oh, okay. What do you want to do while we wait?  We could play more fiduspawn, if...you’re not sick of doing that yet.”

“I mean we’re not staying in this pod for long,” he says.  “We’re going to rescue Roxy.”

“We...what?”

“Sollux is somewhere safe now. He can stay on this ship and figure out a new life.  But I’m not going to sit around while he tries to organize a giant attack against coffee that mostly likely won’t work.  We don’t have time for that.  We’re going to get Roxy and go.”

You sit up straight, and panic begins to well in your torso.  “You mean, you were lying earlier, in saying that you were okay with the plan?”

“Yes.”

“And...now we’re going to go behind Sollux’s back to do the thing we said we wouldn’t do?”

“Yes.”

“Is...that okay?”

“It’s going to have to be,” he says.  He turns to you, and even though you can’t see his eyes behind his shades, you can almost feel him staring you in the eye.  “Listen, if I didn’t know how much all this means to you, I wouldn’t be asking you to do this with me.  But you’ve staked a lot in this rescue mission, haven’t you?”

“Uhh...” you say, trying not to show your confusion too much.  “I...what do you mean?”

“Your confidence. Rufio, right?”

Heat rushes to your face. “Uh, how do you know about Rufio?”

“I’m a light sleeper.”

“Oh, no, you mean you overheard...?”

“Listen,” he says. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got my own special kind of imaginary friend.  Not really the kind that helps me with my confidence in any way, but the point remains. Don’t get caught up on that. You’ve invested something personal into helping me and Roxy out, haven’t you?  All that talk about being a lame troll and a lowblood and whatever else...you have something to prove to yourself.  Am I right?”

“Uh...” you say, and you sigh. “Yes, that is true. Sorry, I just...wanted to be a hero, and do impressive and important things, like saving the badly enslaved last surviving members of a nearly extinct species.  But I truthfully did want to help you because I also respect you, and I still think that your situation, and the larger social and cultural factors that lead up to it, aren’t good for moral reasons that don’t align with my personal values...”

“And that’s why I’m asking you to do this with me.  If you weren’t staking so much of yourself in the completion of this mission, I wouldn’t bother bringing you.  I’d sneak out and leave you here to your own devices.  But I’ve got reason to believe that you need this just as much as I do, if for different reasons, and I know for a fact that you won't try to stop or sabotage me, unlike someone I could mention.  So I want you to come with me to save Roxy.  What do you say?”

You bite your lip, but something is glowing inside of you.  He thinks doing this will help you to grow your self-esteem?  He wants you to come with him, specifically, because he knows how important this is to you?  You have a feeling you already know what you’re going to do, but you think about what Rufio would do, just in case.  And Rufio, according to your imagination, would definitely not wait in the ship while Dirk goes to rescue Roxy.  Rufio would go, and he would be awesome and amazing and cool, with undeniable self-esteem that helps him to successfully complete all the challenges he faces.  If Dirk believes in you, Rufio does, too.  You can’t let him down now.

“Okay,” you say, and you’re almost surprised how eager and not afraid your voice sounds.

“Great,” Dirk says, and he gives you a small smile that makes the glow inside of you feel even warmer. “Let’s go.”

He moves to stand, and your warm feeling falters.  “Wait, uh, now?”

“Yeah,” he says, but he pauses.  “Is that a problem?”

“Uh, well, we don’t really know when the highblood sleep cycle is, or where the coffee shop is either, so it wouldn’t be a good idea to just rush in, right?” you say.

“The highblood sleep cycle starts in roughly two hours,” Dirk says.  Your face falls in surprise.

“How...do you know that?”

“Research.”

His face is too expressionless to read, and even though that seems like a strange answer to you, you trust him enough to believe he knows.  “Oh, okay,” you say.  “But that means we should wait until then, right?”

“The distraction Sollux set up for us won't last forever. We need to sneak out of the launch pads while we have the opportunity. We can use the time to scout out the situation before we move in,” he says.

“Uh, but...you’re sort of obviously a human, and being in close proximity to that part of the ship is probably inadvisable, right?”

“I’m quick on my feet.”

“Ummmm...” you say. You don’t want to doubt him, but that plan doesn’t really sound like much of a plan to you at all. But do you have a better idea? You think really hard for a second while also trying not to look like that’s what you’re doing, and finally an idea pops into your think pan.  “Actually, if you want, I have a highblood friend on board this ship who might be able to help us? We can sneak out now and stay with him until we find a better time to do more rescue-oriented things...?”

“A highblood friend?” Dirk asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“Yeah, uh, but he’s a good highblood, though.”  You think.  You hope. As long as he hasn’t had the coffee, he should still be the same Gamzee you always knew, right? “Do you want me to send him a message?”

Dirk stays silent for a few seconds, and you hope you haven’t said anything wrong. But he finally shrugs. “If you think it’ll help, we can give it a try.  It never hurts to have friends in high places.”

“Okay!” you say with a nod, and you pull out your husktop.

Chapter Text

When Dirk said he was quick on his feet, you didn’t really know what he meant, but you do now. You sneak around in the way you’re used to sneaking, by making yourself small and insignificant but also acting like you know where you are and what you’re doing when you really have no idea at all, but Dirk sneaks around by actually sneaking.  Whenever you pass groups of trolls, he disappears in a flash, and you don’t see him again until you’re alone. You’re honestly really impressed. You wish you could move that fast, but you can barely climb stairs without tripping over your feet. You say so to him once there’s no one else around to hear you talking.

“If we get the time and resources, I’ll look into upgrading your assets,” he says with a small smirk and a little gesture to your legs.  That thought gets you all excited for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is the idea that maybe you’ll get to be around Dirk for long enough to allow that to happen.  You have to remind yourself to not give into your excitement enough to mess up your sneaking as you make your way up to the upper deck, where Gamzee has his hive with the rest of the highbloods.  You’ve never been in a highblood hivestem before, and you forget your excitement as the halls you shuffle down become colorful with what you’re sure to be blood painted onto the walls.  You’re starting to wonder if maybe this was a bad idea.  When you find the respiteblock Gamzee told you to find, you check your iHusk again to make sure you’re not knocking on the wrong door. You look at Dirk over your shoulder.

“Is this it?” he asks.

You nod.  “That’s what it says.  But, uh, just in case...maybe you should hide somewhere.”

He doesn’t move immediately. “Will you need me?” he asks.

“Uh...” you say, and even though you want to straighten your back and give Dirk a confident reassurance that you can definitely handle anything that happens, your shoulders slump. “If you didn’t go very far, I would appreciate that.”

“Sure thing,” he says, and he disappears.  You don’t know where he’s gone, but you trust him that he’s somewhere close. You just wish trusting was enough to make the hallway feel less empty and covered in blood. You take a deep breath and knock at the door.  Your blood pusher thuds against your ribcage.

You yelp when the door swishes open and a pair of arms clamp around you.  A familiar voice drawls into your ear.  “Tavros, my most missed of invertebrothers who’s been all hiding up on the other side of the motherfucking galaxy!”  Gamzee pulls you out of the hug before you have enough time to react, and you’re relieved to see that his eyes are a mundane shade of yellow, obviously not affected by coffee in a bad way. He has a happy grin on his face that makes you grin, too.  “What shit’s been getting kicked with you, bro?” he asks.

“Uh, well, remember what I said when I—“

“Wait a fucking minute!” someone barks from inside the respiteblock, and a firm shove pushes Gamzee out into the hallway with you.  You’re suddenly staring Karkat in the face.  “What the fuck are you doing here?” he demands.  To your horror, Sollux is standing right behind him.

“Uh...“ you say as your blood pusher freezes.

“Tavros?  Damn it, I told you to stay in the ship!” Sollux says.

“Um...“

“I’ll take responsibility for this,” Dirk says, appearing behind you.  Gamzee lets out a startled ‘honk!’ and you notice Karkat visibly jump with surprise.

“Where the hell did you come from?” Karkat asks as Gamzee glances up and down the deserted hallway, whispering something about miracles.

“You—I knew you weren’t going to stay out of this!” Sollux says, pushing past Karkat with an enormous scowl.  “Are you trying to make this harder for me?”

 “It wouldn’t bother me if you thought so,” Dirk says with a shrug.  Sollux opens his mouth to retort, but you step between them.

“Wait, uh, this is my fault,” you say.  You can almost feel Sollux’s eyes flash to yours, and you try not to shrink.  You’re a horrible liar.  The way Sollux’s shoulders drop an inch makes you feel even worse. You suck in some air and say, “Uh, because I wanted to hang out with Gamzee for a while, since, given how long it’s been since I’ve seen him, I missed him, so...”

“Aw, bro, ain’t you just the best motherfucker a guy could get his hopes up to be about knowing!” Gamzee says, throwing an arm over your shoulder.  You feel a little bad for Gamzee’s sake that you weren’t telling the whole truth, but his delight makes you feel a bit better anyway. You did miss him, and not many people seem to like you as much as he does, which always makes you feel some kind of special.  You let yourself smile as you slide your own arm around his waist.

When you glance at Sollux, though, you can tell he doesn’t believe you.  His scowl is darker somehow, but not exactly angry in the way it was when he was talking to Dirk.  “And?” he says.  “Anything else you want to add?  Maybe about why you brought your alien project?”

“I’m pretty sure I count as your alien project now as well,” Dirk says.  “Just sayin’.”

“Shut up,” Sollux snaps at him.  He turns back to you. “Tav, you said you would stay on the ship.  Don’t fucking tell me you took the stolen imperial property for a walk into a highblood hivestem because you missed Gamzee.”

“Um, well,” you say, trying not to tighten your grip around Gamzee’s waist, “I just thought...that maybe...he could meet Gamzee, and that I could handle it for now, or at least...Rufio—“

Sollux interrupts you with an explosive groan, and you know he’s really frustrated because red and blue sparks dance out from under his glasses.  He grabs your free hand and presses it flat against his cheek. “You feel that, Tav?” he asks. “What do you notice about what you’re feeling?”

“Uh...” you say, and you suspect the answer is probably obvious, but you’re suddenly distracted. Sollux’s skin is just a shade cooler than yours is, just enough to be a strange sort of refreshing, like the way you used to feel when a light breeze from the sea blew up and over the edge of your cliff after a long hot night.  It feels familiar, even though you don’t think you’ve ever really touched Sollux before like this. You don’t know why, but even though he’s mad at you, some of  the anxiety making your blood pusher feel tight lessens.  “I don’t...know?”

“It’s real, Tav,” he says, holding your hand there. “I am real.  You know what’s not real? I’ll give you a couple seconds to think about it.  If you need a hint, let me know.”

You swallow and drop your eyes to the floor.  “...Rufio.”

“Right.  Rufio’s not real.  Rufio is just you, telling yourself to do stupid shit because you have no idea what confidence actually is.  You can’t take wanted aliens into highblood hivestems because you want him to meet a friend. I don’t give two fucks what Rufio ‘says.’  Between me and Rufio, listen to me.”

You glance up at him. His eyes blaze, literally, with red and blue psionics.  You don’t really know why you do it, but you unwind your arm from around Gamzee and lift your other hand to his other cheek.  “...Sorry,” you say.  The expression falls off his face, and you see a bizarre shiver twitch across his shoulders.

“It’s fine,” he says, dropping your hand and taking a huge step back.  “Get inside.  Both of you.”

“Wait, what?” Karkat says as Gamzee steers you past him. Dirk follows with a small nod. “Wait a fucking minute, I don’t want that in my respiteblock!” Karkat says, pointing at Dirk as he closes the door.  He glares at Sollux.  “You’ve brought enough bullshit to my doorstep to last me fucking perigees without factoring in the actual alien, and now you’re inviting it into my goddamn place of residence?  You’re worse than my fucking lusus, and he brought home more rotting dead shit than I cared to count!  What if someone finds it here?”

“We can’t leave it—him in the hallway, Kk,” Sollux says, dropping onto the reposecushion.  He cradles his head like he’s getting a headache. You wonder if that’s your fault.

“I thought this was Gamzee’s respiteblock?” you ask, looking around to distract yourself from feeling bad about Sollux and incurring related low self-esteems.  Plenty of signs point to Gamzee living here, like the horns on the floor and the scary clown posters, but there are also trashy romance novels and Thresh Prince of Bel-Air posters laying around, too.

“I’m his moirail, moron,” Karkat says.  “We share a respiteblock.”

“Really?” you ask. “Even though you’re...not a highblood?” You glance down at his gray symbol and remember that you actually still have no idea what his blood color is. His eyes are gray, too, with obvious color contacts.  His face flushes a warmer color, though, confirming that you’re right.  It looks reddish.  Is he even lower than you on the hemospectrum?

“Moirails get privileges,” he says tightly.  “Mind your own fucking business.  What we should be talking about is that.”  He points again at Dirk.  “What are we going to do with it now?”

“We’re going to leave it—him here while we get shit done,” Sollux says.

“What, with the idiot brigade?” Karkat asks, gesturing to you and Gamzee.

“Hey, yeah, we can get our chill on while you all go do whatever the motherfuck you were about doing,” Gamzee says, and he rests his arm lazily over your shoulders again. You glance at Dirk. His expression doesn’t say either way whether he likes that idea or not.

Sollux pinches the bridge of his nose and inhales slowly.  “No, you’re right, Kk,” he says.  Your nutrition sack sinks.  “Besides, we can’t make a fast getaway if they’re both here.”

“We’ll make it back to the ship before you,” Dirk cuts in.  “I can guarantee that.”

“Oh, can you?” Sollux says, looking up at him.  “Is this more cocky cool guy human genius bullshit? You don’t even know what we’re going to do or how long it’ll take.”

“Whether we go back to the ship now or wait here for a while, we’re still going to need to sneak back,” Dirk says.  “The question you should be asking is whether we’re more likely to be caught here or in the ship. I don’t know about you, but if I were a suspicious highblood looking for a fugitive alien, I wouldn’t start looking in other highbloods’ living quarters.”

Sollux presses his lips together into a tight frown, and you send an appreciative glance at Dirk for his clever use of critical thinking.  But Karkat jumps in when he notices Sollux’s silence.  “No, okay, first of all, this is my respiteblock, and as much as I appreciate the gravity of this situation—I mean, obviously my moirail is at risk for turning into a raving lunatic if this coffee shit gets out of hand, so I’m just as personally invested as anyone else in this bullshit—I’ve got plenty of reasons for not wanting valuable stolen imperial property found in my respiteblock.  Gamzee will back me up on this.  It can’t stay here.”

Beside you, Gamzee nods. “The motherfucker’s got some secrets we can’t up and let leak out on account of no alien,” he says. But just as you’re about to feel disheartened, he continues, “Which is why I’m going to be getting my diligence on about this shit so as to prevent any motherfuckers from finding the motherfuck out!”

“No, you nincompoop, that’s not what I meant!” Karkat says, frustrated, but Gamzee drops his arm from your shoulders and walks over to him.  He gracelessly paps his face.

“Best friend, if you’re gonna be about sneakin’ around doing all this motherfuckin’ dangerous shit, you trust on me to know where this motherfuckin’ alien bitch be at. And if it’s at our crib, ain’t that the easiest motherfuckin’ way to juggle this shit?”

Karkat narrows his eyes and stares up into Gamzee’s, and even though you can’t see his face, something about Gamzee’s posture seems off to you, maybe not as dopey or fluid as you remember it being.  “I don’t like it,” Karkat says.  Gamzee nods sympathetically.

“Ain’t nobody likes what shit’s getting kicked about now,” he says.  “But don’t you get your worry on about it, brother. We’ve got this up and fuckin’ locked.  And with friends around, you know I’ll be keeping my wicked self up out of trouble, too.”

For some reason, that seemed enough to convince Karkat.  “Fine,” he says with a huff.  He looks over Gamzee’s shoulder at you.  “Do me a favor and work out something harmless and stupid to do while we’re risking our lives, would you?”

Gamzee glances at you over his shoulder, and maybe it’s because his eyes are lidded in a way that doesn’t seem like the lazy, spacey look you remember Gamzee having, but they seem darker than before.  “Uh...” you say. “Sure, I think?”

“Okay.  Great.  This is just...great,” Sollux says, standing up.  “Hey, here’s an idea: let’s all stop being stupid and actually do something!”

“What’s the plan?” Dirk asks.

“Not you.”

“Obviously, but if we’re going to be back at the ship before you, we need a reasonable estimate of time.”

Sollux makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat.  “Fine,” he says.  “Me and Kk are going to go check out the plantation they’ve got on board, and once we get an opening, we’re going to poison the water in the irrigation system. We’ve got Tz and her psychotic partner in crime already positioned in the other ship to do the same thing.”

“They’re involved now, too?” you ask.

“Not because I wanted them to be,” Sollux says, mirroring your frown.  “I would’ve asked Nep and Eq to do it if I didn’t know that Eq would be fondling himself over the idea of a highblood stimulant blitzing a bunch of muscular assholes the fuck out.  And Eridan or Fef are right out for obvious reasons. Kan is still doing the jadeblood thing.  So that leaves all of us here and those two.  At least Tz has some sense.”

“I’m just surprised that...Vriska would be interested in helping.”

“Well...she has psychic abilities, too, so coffee’s not going to do her any favors.”  Sollux grimaces, and you can sympathize wholeheartedly with his facial expression.  But the logic makes sense to you, so you nod.

“Anyway, getting back on topic,” Karkat cuts in, “we’re coordinating with them to make sure this all happens at the same time, so there’s absolutely no way the subjugglators will get a head’s up too soon and try to stop us.  And once we set everything up, Sollux is going to run the sprinkler systems on both ships, and we can say goodbye to coffee for fucking ever.”

“And Roxy?” Dirk asks.

“The other human?”

“Yeah.”

“No coffee, no problem,” Karkat says with a shrug.

“We’ll get her once we’ve run the sprinklers,” Sollux says.  Karkat starts and turns to him.

“Wait, I thought—”

“Something could still go wrong,” Sollux says.  “They can still rescue some of the plants or seeds or something.”

“But didn’t we agree that rescuing the alien would be really fucking dangerous?”

“Yeah, which is why we’re going to do it while they’re distracted, Kk.”

“I didn’t sign up for this!”

“So, let me get this straight,” Dirk interrupts, taking a step forward.  He looks pointedly at Sollux.  “You’re not actually planning to rescue Roxy?”

“I just said it’s part of the plan!” Sollux answers, and you’re surprised at the earnestness in the way he says it, like he really wants Dirk to believe him.

“Not my plan,” Karkat says.

“Kk—“

“Sollux, that would be suicide, and I’ve been trying very hard to not die for basically the entirety of my adult life!”

“We managed to steal an alien without dying.”

“Yeah, which is exactly why trying to steal the other one now would be certain death!”

“We can’t just leave her here, Kk.”

“Wait, is this about the coffee or the alien?  Because it’s starting to sound like it’s about the alien now.”

“It’s about both.”

“Of fucking course it is! Can’t just have one of them.  Everything’s gotta come in pairs with you, doesn’t it?”

“Okay, fuck you, that has nothing to do with this.”

“Then what the fuck else is the problem?  When did you get such a bleeding heart over some aliens?”

“When didn’t you?  I thought if anyone would start to cry over alien enslavement, it would be you.”

“Look,” Dirk interrupts before Karkat can bite out another retort, “if you won’t rescue Roxy, I will. I’m not leaving here without her. I couldn’t give a shit about any other plan you have, frankly, and I won’t hesitate to sacrifice your agenda for my own.  So someone needs to let me know whether it is or isn’t part of your plan so I can make the appropriate adjustments to mine if needed.”

“And, uh, I, for one, agree that the rescuing of the other human should be a crucial part of any plan, as it would make us bad people to leave her behind to live a horrible life and to prevent the reunion of forcibly separated friends,” you say, even though you don’t know if it’ll do much good.  You can hope, at least.

“We’re going to rescue the other human,” Sollux says firmly.  He looks at Karkat and adds, “I’ll do it by myself if I have to.”

You don’t know what you expected from Sollux, but his conviction takes you by surprise. You thought he wouldn’t care about saving Roxy except for that it would prevent the making of more coffee, but he does seem to care.  Like it matters to him that you care and that Dirk cares, even though he made it sound for so long that the only important thing was destroying coffee. Like maybe saving Roxy matters to him now, too.  The glow of appreciation spreads through you, and you can’t stop yourself from grinning at him. When he notices, his ears turn a little yellow. 

“Fine!  Whatever,” Karkat snaps, throwing his hands up. “I get it.  We’ll save the other alien, since I guess it’s a person, too, and we have a moral obligation to care.  I can care. Look at me, caring about an alien I’ve never fucking met, even though it’ll probably get me killed. Let me just jump right on the back of this idiotic fucking bandwagon because everyone else is already riding it.”

“Don’t worry, best friend, it’ll all work out,” Gamzee says, patting Karkat on the shoulder.

“Probably not, but whatever. Let’s just get Phase 1 of the suicide mission underway.”

“Stay here,” Sollux says to you as he and Karkat get ready to leave.  “If you mess us up, the whole plan could go to shit.  Listen to me.  Got it?”

“Yeah, okay,” you say with a nod.

“Yeah, just...slam with Gamzee or something,” Karkat says.  “Are we ready?”

Sollux nods, and the two of them slip out of the door.  It closes with a whoosh.  You sigh and turn to Gamzee and Dirk.  “So, um...Gamzee, this is Dirk, my...human friend.  And Dirk, this is Gamzee, my troll friend from wigglerhood.”

“Yo,” Dirk says, lifting a hand.  “Nice juggalo aesthetic you’ve got going for you.”

Gamzee glances at Dirk but turns to look at you without answering him.  “So when do you motherfuckers plan on getting your rescue mission to be happening?” he says.  His eyes are dark and lidded again.  The smile slips from your face.

“What?”

“You were all saying over trollian that you were gonna get your rescue mission on from here and that you were needing my help to get that to be about happening, ain’t that right?”

“But, uh...didn’t you say...?”

“I can’t get my chill on about Karkat breaking no motherfuckers out what are under special surveillance like the human is,” Gamzee says, completely serious.  You’ve never seen him this serious. It’s a little unnerving. But you’ve also heard through gossip that he’s been not eating sopor slime anymore, so that might have something to do with it.  He continues, still with that serious tone, “His blood ain’t right, brother. If he gets his wicked self captured up, there’s no coming out of it for him.  They’ll cull him right the motherfuck there, no question or trial. So if you motherfuckers wanna be about rescuing up your human so he don’t have to, I’ll get you whatever the motherfuck you need.”

Dirk’s eyebrows raise a bit. “Nice,” he says. “Judging by your makeup, maybe you could help us with some sort of disguise?  I stand out, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“You motherfuckin’ got it,” Gamzee says.  “But I ain’t got nothing for your hair.  Stay the motherfuck here for a short while and I could be about hooking you up with some crazy-ass fucking dyes to get you all transformed into something like what might pass as a troll.”

“If you’re willing to help, I’m willing to wait,” Dirk says with a shrug.

“Gamzee, are you really okay with this?” you ask as he turns towards the door.  “What about...their plan?  I mean, will Karkat be mad at you?”

Gamzee pauses. “Maybe...yeah,” he says. “But Karkat’s the only motherfucker I got what keeps me feeling sane in this motherfucker, and I can’t risk that for nobody.  But you, bro...you gotta be careful, okay?”

He reaches over and brushes his fingers against the fuzz at the side of your head, just around your horn. The intimate gesture takes you off guard.  “Uh...yeah, of course,” you say.

“If you’re brave enough to up and steal an alien like what this motherfucker is, I got all sorts of faith in you, brother.  But I ain’t gonna be happy if bad things happen up at you, so be motherfuckin’ careful.”

“Um, yeah, I will,” you say. You didn’t expect the small amount of praise, and you’re more than pleased to hear someone call you brave. You still don’t actually believe it yourself, no matter how hard you try pretending, but hearing it from Gamzee is a different matter.

“I’ll be back with some bitchtits disguises,” he says, and he disappears out the door.

“So how about that?” Dirk says as the door closes.  “Looks like we’re doing better than expected.”

“Um,” you say, because you’re full of mixed feelings.  Hearing about the plan changes the way you were thinking about some things, and Gamzee’s attitude makes everything more complicated.  You’re not smart like Dirk or Sollux. You don’t know if you can keep everything sorted out well enough to know what’s happening or what counts as a good idea or not.  But you don’t feel like you’re doing better than expected.  “Dirk, um...if we rescue Roxy before they poison the coffee plants, won’t we ruin the plan?  Especially since they’re coordinating with others?” you ask. You’re almost afraid to look at him, because you feel like you’ll see him looking disappointed that you’re uncertain. But when you do look at him, he’s as expressionless as always.

“It’s likely,” he says.

“But...then, what about...everything?”

He sighs slowly through his nose.  “This is going to make me sound like a dick,” he says, and the corners of his lips turn up in a tiny wry smile, “which I guess proves Sollux right about me.  But I’m not interested in acting as bait so you all can wage war against yourselves.  You heard what they were saying about Roxy.  It’s not about us.  It’s about the bullshit trolls brought upon themselves when they introduced a volatile stimulant into their society.  I like you and Sollux, and I guess these new trolls are okay, but I’m not going to risk myself to help you all fix a problem that’s none of my business. All I want to do is get Roxy and go. That’s it.”

You don’t answer right away, because you really don’t know how to.  It would be easy if you could point at something to say, ‘Definitely, this is the bad guy that needs to be vanquished,’ like how it is in wiggler stories, such as in Pupa Pan.  Pupa Pan is the good guy, and Captain Hook is the bad guy.  That’s easy.  But this isn’t like that sort of thing.  You can see why Dirk feels the way he does about trolls and troll society and coffee, and you can’t really say he’s wrong or evil or bad for it.  You actually think that in many ways he’s probably right to feel the way he does, more so than many trolls.  But can you let him sabotage the plan to get rid of coffee, which is the bad thing happening to your society?  If anything is the ‘bad guy’ now, it’s coffee.  Thousands of trolls might be hurt if the plan to get rid of coffee doesn’t work.  But can you really ask Dirk to sacrifice himself for that, when he’s a victim, too? Can you pick one plan over the other as surely the best plan, without a doubt?

You can’t. You can’t tell Dirk not to rescue Roxy now and run, but you don’t know if you should just let him do it, either. You don’t know what to do. Your shoulders slump, and your self-esteem takes a turn for the worse as well.

“Hey,” Dirk says. You can feel that he’s watching you, and you think he can probably tell how you feel.  You glance over at him.  “Come with me.”

“You mean, to rescue Roxy?”

“Yeah.  And after that.  Fuck all the other plans.  This life isn’t right for you.  Trolls are brutal, with or without coffee.  You deserve better than the bullshit they put you through, and no matter what happens, whether their plan works out or not, I don’t want to feel responsible for whatever aftermath lands you in a vat of shit on my behalf.  So come with me, we’ll grab Roxy, and we’ll go.  No more murderous troll bullshit.”

Your heart flips over. It sounds...nice. More than nice. The more you’ve thought about it since Dirk brought up his new point of view, the more you’ve come to the decision that you don’t fit in troll society.  There's something about you that's wrong. Maybe even wronger than just being a lame troll, like some core wrongness in your think pan or your heart that's the problem. Maybe if you run away with Dirk to find a new life that isn’t about violence and strength and being horrible to other people without repercussions, a different place and with different people, you’ll have something like positive qualities and a good future.  But... “What about Sollux?” you ask.

Dirk doesn’t answer immediately.  He sighs again through his nose.  “You two are involved, aren’t you?” he asks.

“Uh...involved?

“Like, in a quadrant or whatever.”

Your face heats up instantly. “Uh, no, not—why?”

“I just got that vibe. The way he comforted you when you had nightmares, the way you made sure he was eating, his concern about your safety, that sort of thing.  Was I way off?”

You gape at him. “He...comforted me when I had nightmares?”

“Well, yeah. Isn’t that why you always slept next to him?”

You...did. You did always sleep next to him. You hadn’t even realized that you were always next to him when you fell asleep for your naps. You were just sort of...always in the navigation block.  But now so many more things make sense.  Why your nightmares always lulled.  Why you always thought you could remember fingers in your hair. Why touching Sollux felt familiar. And now, your torso feels tight.

“I, uh...oh,” you say. “I guess...I didn’t notice.”

“You didn’t notice?” Dirk asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“No, I...thought I was being insufferable towards him, or at least irritating to some degree.  I guess, in terms of my relationships with people, I always sort of think that way, since I have so many, uh...”  You remind yourself not to talk bad about yourself, since talking bad about yourself is a fast way to give into bad self-esteem, but your self-esteem right now isn’t doing so well anyway.  Now you really don’t know what to do. You didn’t think Sollux felt that way about you.  You still don’t, actually.  It could all be a fluke, or maybe he was just being polite, but even with that idea in mind, it’s so much harder to decide which course of action or person to trust more is the right one.  Or if it’s possible at all to decide.  You’re really not smart enough to be a person that makes these decisions. And if you make the wrong one...the consequences are starting to make your anxiety hurt.

“I...don’t know what to do,” you say.

“Yeah,” Dirk says. “Damn, sorry for putting you in this position.”

“No, it’s okay,” you say. “That is to say, realistically, I think I put myself in this position actually, and you’re just also in this position with me.”

“Maybe.  At least we’re not alone.”

You glance at him. You almost ache for wondering what he’s thinking and feeling, because you still can’t tell. You wish you could tell. You wish you could see his face just once without his sunglasses over his eyes and maybe with some kind of expression on his face, like happiness or loneliness or sadness. Anything, really. But he did say ‘we,’ not ‘you.’ ‘At least we’re not alone,’ he said.  So maybe that means he’s not feeling alone either, or he would be if it weren’t for you. You don’t know if it’s because he hasn’t been around you long enough yet, or if it’s because of all the special circumstances that make you seem better than you are, but you can’t make yourself feel like he doesn’t like you.  Even though you think you’re probably being foolish, you hope as hard as you can that it’s because of you that he feels like he’s not alone. That maybe, if Sollux likes you secretly and you didn’t notice, maybe hoping Dirk likes you too isn’t a farfetched thing to do.

But if both Sollux and Dirk like you, and you like both Sollux and Dirk, how can you possibly choose who to help?

Chapter Text

Gamzee is strangely silent as he leads you towards the upper deck dining hall.  He’s been weirding you out a bit for the few hours you’ve been hanging out with him.  Not in a bad way, as in a way that would make you not want to be around him anymore, because he’s still fun and a little goofy sometimes like you remember him to be, but he’s also not spacey or carefree the same way he was on Alternia. The way he moves and talks is different, and sometimes, that serious expression sharpens his eyes, which makes you think there are entire layers to him that you never knew about. Maybe his mind is much more complicated than you thought.  Adulthood does that to some people probably.  You’ll just have to accept these new traits as part of who he is now and work extra hard to understand them.  In the meantime, it’s still really enjoyable when he slams with you, and enjoying each other’s company is what matters most. 

The highblood sleep cycle has started, but even when you do see a stray highblood, it’s okay because of your disguises.  You had enough time before the sleep cycle started to dye Dirk’s hair black, kind of badly actually, but you don’t think anyone will notice if they don’t look too hard. His shades already cover his eyes, so the difficult task of procuring colored contacts didn’t have to happen. Gamzee let him borrow one of his shirts, which is way too big for him, but that just makes it easier for him to hide the coil cutters you’ll need to free Roxy under his clothes. For the final touch, Gamzee painted his face like a subjugglator.  If you had been the one to do it, you’re sure any other subjugglator on the ship would have been able to tell, but Gamzee’s skill at being a member of that blood caste gives him the level of handiwork that makes Dirk indistinguishable from a true subjugglator.  Apparently there are symbols and motifs in the paint, like it all means something special.  Gamzee was happy to tell you about it while he was working.  He offered to paint your face, too, but you thought it would be too suspicious if there were two extra unknown subjugglators wandering around. You just borrowed one of Karkat’s shirts and hoped he wouldn’t mind. 

When you all turn into the dining hall, you can immediately identify the coffee shop at the far edge because of the prettiness leading up to it.  The coffee shop must be a special place on this ship, too. You bet it has an even better view of the stars than the ship you left.  There aren’t many highbloods in the dining hall, and the few that are there are young and blueblooded.  They glance at you when you walk in, but they lower their eyes quickly.  No one looks at a subjugglator for long if they can help it.

“Okay, bro,” Gamzee says, turning to you.  His eyes are doing that serious thing again.  “I’m gonna leave you here and get my abscond on.”

“You’re...not coming with us?” you ask.  He shakes his head.

“I can’t get no closer than what I’ve got right here,” he says.  “That place ain’t no place for me.  I...ain’t right in the pan, bro.  I been up and rottin’ it away for all those motherfuckin’ sweeps I spent poisoning myself with those motherfuckin’ slime pies.  You remember, bro?”

“Uh,” you say, and you do remember, but you didn’t know they were poison. “Were they...that bad?”

“Yeah, bro. They were that motherfuckin’ bad. And now I ain’t got the self up in me to be resisting no more shit what fuck with what’s left up there. Karkat’s been helping me get my chill on, but I can’t get no closer than this.  I got to go.”

“Wait...” you say, and your blood pusher sinks.  “Did you drink the coffee?”

He glances away. “Before all this shit started to be about happening, yeah.  With my motherfuckin’ pan the way it is now, what with all those sweeps of motherfuckin’ slime, shit fell off the motherfuckin’ one-wheeled device real motherfuckin’ fast.  Karkat knew to get all salty about that bullshit early on, and the motherfucker’s been helping me get some sense forced up in me.  We been eating in our respiteblock, buyin’ shit in the barrack levels, that sort of thing.  If he knew I came here all by my motherfuckin’ self, he wouldn’t be all that happy with me.”

“Uh, yeah, okay,” you say, growing more anxious with concern.  You didn’t know all that had happened.  No one told you.  They just said Gamzee stopped eating slime and that it was a good thing he did. Maybe what Gamzee’s telling you right now is a secret or something he doesn’t talk about because of bad feelings about it.  And if anyone can understand the power of bad self-esteem, it’s you.  “If you need to go, that’s fine.  I, uh, respect your honesty, and also your struggle, and I think it’s very courageous and impressive of you to bring us this far when you have personal trials of this magnitude to be concerned about.”

Gamzee looks back at you, and his face relaxes into a warm smile.  “Aw, bro, you’re always saying the nicest things at me. I motherfuckin’ missed you.”

“Yeah, I missed you, too. And, just to lay this on the table, if you need anyone to talk to or to slam with about anything, I’m available for that to happen.  Or...I hope that’ll continue to be the case after we do this dangerous thing.”

The smile on Gamzee’s face fades a little bit, and you wish the thing you just said didn’t have to sound so sad.  He reaches over to you and pulls you into a tight hug.  “Be motherfuckin’ careful, bro,” he says into your shoulder. You’re sure he’s getting paint all over the side of your face, but you don’t really care that much. You hug him back just as tight, because you don’t know the next time you’ll get to see him.  Or anyone else you ever knew.  It hits you in a wave what you’re really sacrificing to help the humans escape, and your blood pusher squeezes with so many sad emotions you can hardly name them.  You hope it’ll all be worth it in the end.

Gamzee lets go of you and backs through the exit with a crestfallen wave.  You wave back.  He turns around and slips around the corner, and he’s out of sight.

“You okay?” Dirk asks as you turn back towards him.  The question takes you off-guard.

“Uh...” you say. You’re not, exactly, but you don’t think you want Dirk to know that.  “Yeah, I think so.”

He nods, slowly in a way that makes you think that he doesn’t entirely believe you, and your self-esteem drops a notch.  “You ready?” he asks.

“...Yeah.”

“I can take it from here if you don’t want to do this.”

You look at him, surprised. Surprised in the bad and secretly hurt way.  “But...didn’t you want my help?”

“Yes,” he says. And he says it without any hesitation, strongly, like he means it.

“Okay, uh...then I’m going to help.”

His lips twitch up at the corners. “Great,” he says. “Let’s do this.”

He leads the way across the dining hall, and if you didn’t know he wasn’t a troll, you wouldn’t be suspicious of him at all.  He walks like a subjugglator, with his chin up and his shoulders squared, emitting all the impressive cockiness that makes other trolls afraid of making them angry. You wonder if he’s copying all the trolls he saw come into his coffee shop while he was there. He’s smart enough, so you imagine that’s probably the case.  You try to do like he does, but you know you’re not nearly as flawless about it, even with your metal legs making your stride a little different from his by necessity.  But as long as you look like you’re with him, like you’re in with a subjugglator, you’re fine. Nobody stops either of you as you walk through the sliding doors of the coffee shop.  That is, until you’re inside.

A troll is standing to the side of the doorway with crossed arms.  She looks to be a blueblood, maybe somewhere on the spectrum between Vriska and Equius, but she’s built way more like Equius.  No one else is in the coffee shop.  You drop your eyes and move to trail after Dirk towards the counter, but the troll at the door grabs you by the arm.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, walking in here with a grayed symbol?” she asks. You glance down and remember that you’re wearing Karkat’s shirt now.  You don’t really know what sort of social protocol he follows to be able to walk around the upper decks without his blood color on his shirt or what sort of attitude he uses to defend himself in these sorts of situations. You’re willing to bet, given his general disposition and yours, that you’re not going to be able to imitate it.  But this is maybe okay. You need to distract this troll anyway, if Dirk is supposed to be able to help Roxy, right?  You look over at Dirk and try to tell him with your eyes that this is what you’re thinking, and he closes his mouth before saying whatever he was thinking of saying in your defense.  He hesitates a little before turning back towards the counter, where the other human is watching you.  You recognize her from Dirk’s drawings. She looks much more tired in person, though.

You straighten your back and try to imagine what Rufio would do in this situation.  Rufio would have a clever response for this guard. All you need to do is roleplay as Rufio, right?  And you’re good at roleplaying, or at least familiar enough to know how to get into character. But getting into character for a friendly roleplay is a lot different than this.  Your blood pusher pounds against your torso cage. “I, uh, don’t think it’s any of your business, what my blood color is,” you say, and as an afterthought, you try to casually shrug her off.  She just tightens her grip painfully.

“You’re on the upper deck, chump.  Your blood color is everyone’s business,” she says. You try to fight your cowardly instinct to drop your eyes, but when you finally glance up, you look away as quickly as you can.  Her eye color reminds you that one good look at your irises could give you away. Her cobalt eyes are cold and remind you too much of someone else you know.  You bet her skin feels cold, too.  You’re glad that Karkat only wears long sleeves, because she’d surely be able to feel your warmth if your skin made contact.

“If I was a, uh, filthy lowblood scum, would I dare to come up here, in the presence of my subjugglator, um...moirail?” you say.  You inwardly cringe at the term ‘moirail’ in reference to Dirk.  It feels weird.  But you know that, in this case, moirallegiance is a more powerful quadrant, since it suggests an obligation to protect each other, more so than maybe a matesprit or a kismesis would.  You doubt this guard would want to mess with a subjugglator.

“Why would a subjugglator bring their moirail to the coffee shop with them?” the guard sneers, much to your dismay.  “Does he want to give you nightmares?  Isn’t it hard enough to pacify a subjugglator when they aren’t pan-fried?”

“Uh,” you say. You hadn’t thought of that. Maybe some activities are better spent without a moirail present, like when a subjugglator is about to super-power their chucklevoodoos.  But you can still do this.  You just need to be clever...or as clever as you can manage.  “That is to say, I can handle him at his worst, and he can also...do the same for me, so...our mutual presence makes the sharing of coffee more enjoyable, and tests the bounds of our relationship.”

The guard scoffs, but she seems more incredulous than standoffish now, at least.  “That sounds like one hell of a fucked up trust exercise,” she says. 

“Yes, exactly, that’s definitely what it is,” you say, nodding.  “A trust exercise, for the creation of stronger bonding, and introducing new things into our relationship.”

“Kinda kinky, isn’t it?”

“Uh...is it?” you say, but you recover quickly.  “I mean, yes, it’s...we’re very much about, um, finding excitement in dangerous activities together, to...produce thrills that would otherwise not happen.” You’re growing uncomfortable, but at least this is a distracting tangent that you can sustain. You think you hear the movement of metal behind you, which you hope means Dirk is making progress.

“You must be one hell of a papper,” the gaurd says, lifting an eyebrow.  You try really hard not to blush.  You don’t want your blood color on your face.  You try harder than ever to pretend that you’re Rufio and that casual conversation revolving around private acts of intimacy is part of your devilish charm.

“That, yes, that’s something, that might describe me,” you say.  “I have, uh...a way of seeming vulnerable, but also stern when I need to, in order to, um, meet my partner’s particular needs at any given time.”

“Damn, you know, I wish my moirail had a little more sense about that sort of thing,” she says, and she finally loosens the grip on your arm.  Not in a way that makes you feel better, though.  More in a way that makes you...even more uncomfortable given the subject of discussion.  “She’s not really in-tune with my needs sometimes, you know?”

“Uh...” you say. You don’t know. At all.  But you’re going to act like you do. “I imagine that, um...sometimes you probably want to go crazy, like to let out all your pent-up hostility, and get really...pacified, in a tender and raw way, to produce aggressively cathartic feelings...?”

“Huh,” she says, “maybe you do know what you’re doing.”

The look on her face sends gross shivers skittering down your back, but before you have to start coming up with a reasonable response, Dirk says, “Now, Roxy!” and a lithe figure leaps around you.  With several expert jabs, the guard crumbles, unconscious.  Roxy, the new human, stands in front of you, stretching.

“Oh, thank god,” you say with a sigh of relief.

“Nice distraction work,” Dirk says, coming up behind you.  “You really had that covered.  I’m impressed.”

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” you say, and even though you still feel uncomfortable, you’re also beginning to feel proud of yourself for your success.

“How’d you get her off your back about the blood thing?”

“Um, well, actually, I think I was...seducing her, maybe?”

Roxy laughs. “I like him already!” she says. “So, mysterious troll friend of Dirk’s, you got a name?”

“Roxy, this is Tavros. He rescued me and brought me here to you, so he’s a good guy.”

“I mean, obviously he’s a good guy,” Roxy says.  “It’s not like he’s got a hell of a lot to gain from any of that!”

Dirk shrugs. “Nothing but a heart of gold and our undying gratitude,” he says.  “And bragging rights for a century.”

“Shit, I can get on board with that,” Roxy says.  “One century of undying gratitude and relinquished bragging privileges, coming right up!”

“Let’s clear the rest of the ship before we make a century’s worth of promises,” Dirk says. “We’ve got our work cut out for us.”

“Uh, yeah, how are we planning to do that, now that we have Roxy with us?” you ask.

Dirk doesn’t answer immediately, and you hope it’s because his brain is thinking very hard and not because he doesn’t have a plan.  But you trust him, so you have no doubt that that’s the case.  He turns to Roxy.  “How are you feeling in terms of physical fitness?” he asks.

“Like I’ve been trapped behind a counter for months on end without anything to do,” she says. “You can fill in the deets.”

“So not super great.”

“Yeah, not exactly at the top of my game.  How the heck are you still hoppin’ around like it ain’t no thang?”

“I’m not.  I lost a lot of cardio endurance, but I made myself a training regimen to stay in something resembling shape.”

“Pff, classic Dirk.”

“So you’ve done nothing this whole time?”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?  Do these guns look anything less than locked and loaded to you?”  Roxy flexes both her arms, and she has at least some muscle, but you think the joke is that she’s not as ripped as she’s claiming to be.

“Roxy, this is serious.”

“Yeah, I know,” she says, dropping her arms.  “I can still pull off some sick moves with my rad as fuck flying fists, but it ain’t easy to do speed drills behind a counter with a bunch of asshole aliens yelling orders at you.”

“I know,” Dirk says with a sigh.  “Hopefully, we won’t need to pull off any moves, sick or otherwise.  But this is going to be hard without any way to disguise you, and unless you can move quickly and silently all the way to the launch pads, we might have a problem.”

“Uh, are you saying that there isn’t a plan?” you ask.  That’s not what you were hoping to hear at all.

“I’m thinking,” Dirk says. “To tell the truth, I wasn’t expecting to simply walk in here dressed as a troll.  I thought we’d do something that would provide as much possibility for breaking out as it would for breaking in. Like something similar to what you did to bust me out.  Or that maybe we could locate some strategically placed vents to sneak in.”

“You mean, like that one?” Roxy asks, pointing at the wall over the door.

Dirk smirks. “Yes, exactly like that one.” In a flash, he disappears, and the cover of the vent crashes down beside you.  You jump with a yelp of surprise.  Dirk lands beside you almost soundlessly, and he leaps again, this time pulling himself into the vent.  He leans out.  “I’m going to do some light investigation to gauge the effectiveness of this avenue of escape.  Brainstorm a back-up plan, got it?”

“Sure thing, Di Stri,” Roxy says with a small salute.  “Oh, and we’d better hide this thing for maximum sneaking time.”  She picks up the cover of the vent and hauls it to the counter, dropping it over the edge and out of view.

“Wait, uh, if we’re hiding things...” you say, following her.  You pull Karkat’s shirt off over yours and dump his into the garbage. 

“Not fond of that shirt, huh?” Roxy asks.  “Got an itchy tag?”

“No, it’s my friend’s, and I’m afraid he’ll get into trouble if someone sees me wearing it while helping you to escape.”

“Oh, gotcha.”

Dirk’s head pops out of the vent.  “We’re looking good up here,” he says.  “I even think your horns will fit, Tavros, but you’re gonna have a hell of a time.”

“That’s okay, probably,” you say, heading back over to the vent.  “It’s better than nothing, right?”

“Right,” he says. “Boost Roxy up and then we’ll get you in here.  I doubt this’ll take us all the way to the escape bay, but like you said, it’s better than nothing.”

“Okay,” you say.

Roxy turns to you and sizes you up.  You’re taller than she is, but nowhere near as tall as the vent.  “How you wanna do this, bull horns?” she asks.

“Uh, actually, using my horns isn’t a terrible idea,” you say.  “You can just stand on them if you want.  Which might be the only reasonable way to reach it.”

“Wow, really? Can your cranium handle that?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I’m actually more worried about my legs than my, um, cranium, but I think it’ll be fine.”

“If you say so! Let’s do this.”

You bend down to let Roxy clamber onto your horns.  The mechanics of your legs have more than enough strength to lift Roxy, but you’re worried about your balance, which is always a little uncertain.  Your metal knees and hips sway as you try to straighten them along a linear path.  You hope they don’t swing out and throw your whole body off-balance.

“Almost there,” Roxy says, trying to stand a little taller on your horns.

“Me too,” you say, but as you say it, the doors swish open.  The sound and motion startles you so much you tip, and both you and Roxy tumble backwards.  A violetblood stands in the door, staring down with shock at the two of you sprawled across the floor. He’s so big with age that his horns graze the top of the doorframe.  Panic seizes your blood pusher.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he says as he recovers from his surprise.

Dirk swings from the vent and plants both feet in the troll’s face, and he stumbles backwards into the closed doors with enough force to knock them both out of their frames. Coupled with the troll’s roar of rage, the sound is enough to alert the whole dining hall to the fight. Outside, you see the few trolls in the dining hall look up with muted interest, but you know from experience that fighting noises coming from the coffee shop isn’t anything unusual. But the violetblood stands, his nose bleeding, and shouts, “The human is trying to escape!” and that produces the kind of startled urgency that you were hoping wouldn’t happen.  The trolls in the dining hall all begin to stand.  Weapons appear out of their strife specibi.  You clamber to your feet and look to Dirk for guidance, panic flooding your whole body.

“Run!” he shouts. Not the kind of intelligent plan-making you were expecting, but you comply.  All three of you burst from the room and into the dining hall. You and Roxy hug the wall, but Dirk bounds from table to table through the center of the room, knocking trolls over before they can react to him.  You meet up at the exit and sprint down the hallway. 

“Where are we going?” Roxy shouts.  “Which way?”

You realize with dismay that you’re probably the only one who knows your way around a troll warship, but you’ve never been on this one before.  But it can’t be that different from the one you worked on, right? You had that one mapped pretty well, at least as far as the best ways to avoid the high-traffic areas. You try to think about the most advantageous way to go from here, but before you can respond, Dirk shouts back, “This way!”

You don’t know how he knows, but you believe him.  He turns you down a couple hallways and leads you successfully towards the lift platform. You pass a couple of trolls, but they’re too startled by your sudden appearance to stop you. As you board the lift, you turn back to see who’s following you, but there’s no one there.  You think that should be a good thing, but it doesn’t feel like a good thing at all.

“Are we...clear?” Roxy asks as the doors close.  The lift begins to descend.

“I doubt it,” Dirk says. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

You look at him uneasily, but his face remains the same as ever.  The face paint has smeared, so that his human skin tone shows in places. He doesn’t look like a troll very much anymore.  You’re about to say something when the lift jars to a stop.  An automated voice booms through the speakers.  “Alert!  Code Blue!  Rogue slave on the loose! Species: human! Value: indispensable! Capture alive!” The message repeats and repeats.

“Shit!” Dirk says. “We need to get out of this elevator!”

“What do we do?” you ask. He lunges forward and jams his fingers into the cracks in the doors, and his muscles tighten with the effort of trying to open it.  You and Roxy jump forward to help, and when you can fit them, you use your metal legs for extra strength.  When you finally get the doors open, you find that the lift is still traveling through the barrack levels of the ship, on the edge of one of the ship’s many communal hivestem cities.  You’re stuck between one of  the many floors that ring the open area of the city, overlooking the several hundred story drop to the ground level of the barracks below.  You know that each floor is a crisscross maze of halls and corridors that harbor shops, restaurants, and training halls for the soldiers, spanning from one city to the next, and you realize with a sharp spike in panic that you’re exactly where you don’t want to be—in the middle of the most active areas of the ship.  You need to get away from the hivestems and into the deep, dark inner hallways of the maze as quickly as possible.

“Uh, Dirk, this is really bad! We have to hurry,” you say as the voice continues to boom through the speakers.

“Go, lead the way,” he says. You slide through the gap to the floor above and look around.  There are trolls in sight, but none nearby.  You move aside to help Dirk and Roxy out, and as soon as they’re both on their feet, you dive into the first hallway you see.  “How do we get to the launch pads from here?” Dirk asks as you run down hallways, trying to pick the most sparsely populated ones you can find.  You hear trolls shout as you pass.  You know that’s a bad sign.

“We need the lifts!” you say. “I don’t know, without the lifts...”

“Okay, fuck. We need to get the lifts back online.  Fuck,” Dirk says. “Lead us there and we’ll see what we can do.” 

You want to be able to do that for him, but there are hundreds of lifts that do and don’t go to the launch pads and you don’t know which ones do in this ship.  The trolls you pass are beginning to sound less startled when they see you.  You doubt you’ll have the time to make mistakes.

“Alert!  Code Blue!  Rogue slave on the loose: spotted, City Delta, barracks floor 387, third quad!  Species: human! Value: indispensable! Capture alive!”

“Shit!” you say. You need to get into a different quad, but you don’t really know where you are.  You turn down a hallway.

“There!” you hear, and something whizzes by your head.  You skid to a halt and almost lose your feet beneath you, but you somehow manage to stay standing.  Dirk grabs onto your arm and yanks you in the other direction before you can hardly think. You’re fucked, you realize as Roxy turns to go down one hallway but switches direction with an alarmed squawk.  Everyone on this floor must be moving to this area.  You try to keep up as you change direction, change direction, your hips and knees slipping with the shifts in your weight, and you’re backwards on what hallway you’re in now.  There are trolls at every turn.  They’re behind you and in front of you.  You’re going to get caught.

“Roxy!” Dirk shouts, and Roxy lunges forward, dodging projectiles and fists with her hair flying around her face.  She catches one troll in the gut with her foot and another in the throat.  Her fingers stiffen, and she deals swift blows to key pressure points.  Dirk’s hand clamps around yours and he leaps, pulling you with him. You land much heavier than he does, but he keeps you on your feet and moving.

You all careen around another corner, and you feel your blood pusher drop to your nutrition sack. Ahead of you is the city hivestems.  You’re back to the center, back to where every troll in the nucleus of the city can see you. And trolls are already moving to block your path.

“Tavros, rush them!” Dirk says. His hand is still around yours.

“What?”  You just now realize that you’re the one holding on so tight.

“Rush them! We’re going to jump!”

“Dirk, are you crazy?” Roxy asks over her shoulder.

“Yes!  Just do it!”

You don’t want to jump. The drop from this level to the ground level of the hivestem city is hundreds of floors, and you don’t know if you can survive that sort of fall.  You don’t want to find out.  You’ve already tested your fall survivability once in your life, and the idea of doing it all over again makes you nearly blind with fear.  You don’t want to fall.  You don’t want to.  But you want to trust Dirk, and you don’t know if there’s any other way.  You think, at this point, you might be dead anyway.  This might be your only hope.  And if Dirk says for you to do it, maybe there is some kind of hope in falling after all. You want to trust Dirk. You want to trust him so bad, even though you’re terrified, even though all your cowardly instincts are telling you ‘oh no, oh please, oh god no.’  So you let go of his hand, pull your old lance from your strife specibus, drop your horns, and rush the trolls in your path.

The trolls scatter. A rushing noise fills your hear ducts as you near the banister overlooking the drop, and you feel like your blood pusher is stopping, but out of the corner of your eyes, you see Dirk appear by your side.  He grabs onto your hand. His other hand is already holding onto Roxy.  He pulls you into the leap, and you close your eyes as your foot pushes off the banister. You remember this swooping feeling of gravity pulling you down.  The last time you felt this was in your nightmares.  Now you’re living it again.  Air rushes past you, and you wait for the impact. You hate that your last thought is going to be about how completely you failed to be the hero you wanted to be.

A sudden jolt jars you from your thoughts.  For a full second, you think you’ve landed, and you’re waiting for the pain.  Your think pan is solid white and your body feels hot with terror.  But no pain comes, no loss of sensation in your limps or the suffocating feeling of all the air leaving your lungs.  Instead, the jittery sensation of static electricity ghosts over your whole body. You open your eyes. You’re encased in red and blue plasma.  And the floors are passing the wrong way. 

“Sollux!” you gasp as he drags all of you after him.  You don’t even care how fierce he looks.  The thought that he could be angry with you doesn’t pass through your pan. You only feel relief. You’re so relieved your eyes prick with tears.  You feel Dirk’s hand squeeze yours, and you look over at him.

“Good job,” he says. You’ve never felt so many things at once in your life.

“Hang on!” Sollux yells down at you.  He swings you around as he turns back towards the ground.  You don’t know what he’s doing until you see him take off his glasses, and you grab onto Dirk a little harder as a beam of psionic energy erupts from his eyes, tearing a hole straight through the bottom level of the barracks.  He doesn’t give you time to prepare yourself before sending you all careening straight down through the hole.  You hit the floor of the launch pads like a ball, bouncing in the cushion of the plasma, and it drops you all onto you butt. Sollux lands on his feet in front of you.  He lifts his hands, and warpods and ships lift off the ground.  He sends them flying across the launch pads, landing one heavily in front of you, blocking other trolls’ path.

He turns to the three of you with his eyes still blazing.  You can hear the crash of metal and shouting from behind the barrier of the ship blocking you from the rest of the launch pads.  You clamber to your feet, expecting Sollux to yell at you, but he stomps past you towards Dirk.

“Thanks for the lift,” Dirk says, straightening his shades.  Sollux doesn’t even say anything.  He grabs him by the front of the shirt, and, to your shock, yanks him into a hard and angry kiss. 

“Whoa,” Roxy says, lifting an eyebrow.  You don’t say anything but “uhhhhh...”  Now that you’re here, you guess you should’ve seen this coming, but you really didn’t. You should probably work on becoming more observant.

“Get to the escape pod,” Sollux snaps, pushing Dirk away.  “I’ll prevent anyone from going after you.  Get as far as you can.  Cloak yourself.  I never want to see you again.  And you,” he says, turning to you.  His lips press together for just a microsecond.  “Go with him.”

“Wait, but...” you say, but you don’t really know what you want to say.  You’re not ready.  You’re not ready for this, to make this decision.  You don’t know what to do.  You look at Dirk and back at Sollux. You remember the soothing feeling of your hand against Sollux’s skin and the ghost sensation of fingers running through your hair, interrupting your nightmares.  You remember the fierce determination on Dirk’s face, illuminated by the fiery explosions of an invasion, the nebula bruise on his cheek making him all the more breathtaking.  The sounds of angry trolls and destruction waiting for you on the other side of the launch pads fill your hear ducts.

“Hurry the fuck up, Tavros, damn it!” Sollux says.  Little sparks of electricity scatter from under his glasses.  If he gets captured, his psionics will make his life hell.  Did he manage to destroy the coffee plants?  Will they kill him, do experiments on him, or just put him into slavery?  All because you asked him for his help. You’d be dead without him.

Would Rufio choose to die with Sollux or to live with Dirk?

“I...I’m staying here,” you say. And you guess that’s your decision.

“What?  Are you fucking stupid?”

“I’m staying here,” you say, but this time to Dirk.  “I can’t...leave things like this.  This is my responsibility.”

“No, fuck, Tavros, I’m doing this for you!” Sollux says, but Dirk nods.

“I thought you might,” Dirk says.  He carefully pulls his shades from his face, and he holds them out for you.  You take them from him gently, sensing for some reason that this is a special gesture that you should consider important. “Take good care of these,” he says. “Don’t let anything happen to them, no matter what.  And wear them. Got it?”

“Uh...okay?” you say. You don’t understand, but you’ll do what he says anyway, because you trust him so damn much. You look up at him, and your throat closes.  You don’t want to never see him again.  You want to see him all the time.  He makes you want to be brave and noble and heroic and good.  He lingers, and you want more than anything to press your lips against his the way Sollux did, but...in the end, you’re still not actually any of those things, not really, and you guess you just don’t have the confidence for that.

“Would you hurry the fuck up?” Sollux shouts, and you jump. Dirk nods.  He turns and grabs Roxy’s hands, and they run towards the escape bay. 

Chapter Text

The cell you share with Sollux is dim and bare, in a way that sucks out all of the optimism you ever had about your future and really makes you understand the magnitude of what you did. You ruined everything. For yourself, and for Sollux. Your life wasn’t great as a janiterrorist, but at least you were a free troll on a nice ship. You could talk to your friends on Trollian and pursue your hobbies.  You could find a way to look at the stars.  Now, none of that is ever going to happen again. Not ever.  Even if they let you live after they interrogate you about the location of the humans, which is probably not likely.

At least thinking about Dirk and Roxy makes you feel a little better.  You did it.  You saved the last surviving members of a nearly extinct race from their life of enslavement.  Now, they can fly away to a habitable planet, maybe to try to restart their race together, as beings that reproduce through specialized sexual roles and gestation, like what you know is the case with them.  The thought is bittersweet for you.  Even though it’s definitely lucky that reproduction and repopulation is a possible thing for them, your chest gets tight thinking about it.  But that’s your fault. You’re starting to suspect that it was always too presumptuous of you to think that anything else would happen, particularly involving you as a reasonable romantic substitute for a member of Dirk’s own species.  This is for the best for them, even if it’s not the best for you.  They’ll be better off with each other. And you...at least you have Sollux still.  Kind of.

Sollux hasn’t said much of anything to you since you were both taken to the cell.  He’s been laying face-down on the floor, listlessly. You thought at first that he was hurt, that maybe one of the trolls escorting you pushed him around too much, but when you asked, he just said, “No.”  And the way he said it shut you down, like conversation with you wasn’t desirable to him at all, maybe ever again.  You hope as hard as you can that that’s not the case, but after some reflection on the matter, you begin to suspect that this situation isn’t really all that surprising after all.  Maybe you were over-thinking your relationship with Sollux, and this is just more proof that you shouldn’t make presumptions about stuff like that. Maybe after everything you did to land him into the bad circumstances you’re both in now, he’s stopped liking you.  Maybe he never liked you in the first place and you were too dense to notice until now. The thought makes the tightness in your chest grow so thick and painful that it almost brings tears to your eyes, and you can’t even bring yourself to force self-esteem back into your think pan through repetitive imaginations of Rufio.  Self-esteem, you’re beginning to sense, is for people who are smart enough to not make stupid mistakes and misunderstand other people’s intentions.  And you’re obviously not one of those people.

It’s time for you to be honest with yourself.  You’re not really the hero in this situation.  Without Sollux’s help, you would never have been able to save Dirk. Without Dirk’s help, you wouldn’t have been able to save Roxy.  All you’ve done this whole time was to make mistakes with your poor judgment that forced other people to have to do the things you wanted to do yourself. They were just bringing you along for the ride because you tricked everyone into thinking that this somehow had something to do with you and your flawed personal ideals for yourself. You were nothing but selfish. The hero wasn’t you, it was Dirk and Sollux.  Which is why they evidently did manage to build an actual relationship with each other that you weren’t able to notice at all, since you were too busy pretending in your mind that they both liked you.  Wow, Sollux was right.  You really are dumb.

You take Dirk’s shades out of the pocket of your overshirt.  You were careful to protect them while the guards were patting you down. With a sigh, you look over at Sollux and wonder if he’s thinking about Dirk like how you are. You hold the sunglasses to you and scoot closer to Sollux.  “Um...Sollux?” you say.  The loudness of your voice in the quiet cell makes you wince. You wish you weren’t so annoying.

“What?” he says.

“Maybe...you should take these instead,” you say, leaning towards him to hold the sunglasses where he can see them.  His face moves slightly to look at them, and he turns more to look over his shoulder at you with a frown.

“Why?” he asks. “He gave them to you.”

A shameful heat creeps up on your cheeks.  You hope you don’t look as unhappy as you feel.  “Uh, yeah, but...I think, given that you two had something, um, happening enough to exchange an impassioned kiss, it seems more appropriate that you would have them.”

His face turns yellow, but you think it’s for a different reason than the one that’s making you flush. “No, okay, that was—it was a stupid mistake I made because I was caught up in the moment.  Nothing was actually happening between us.”

You blink. “Oh...really?”

“Yes, really.”

“So...you don’t have, um...those kinds of feelings for him?”

His face almost glows gold, and he turns it back towards the ground, burying it in his arms. “Do we have to talk about this now?” he asks.  “I’m not exactly in the best of moods.  I’m actually feeling pretty shitty about all of this, to be honest.”

“Oh, no, I guess we don’t have to, if you’re feeling bad,” you say, returning Dirk’s shades to your pocket. “I can sympathized about the bad feelings you have in relation to our situation, so I’m willing to respect your wishes.”

You sit back and prepare to retreat to your side of the cell to give Sollux some space, but instead of falling silent like you expect him to, he lets loose a huge groan. “Why did he have to fuck everything up like that?” he says into his arms.  “I would have gone to rescue her, and I would’ve done it right.  Did he really think I fucking wouldn’t?”

“Uh,” you say. This doesn’t sound like Sollux not talking about the things he said he didn’t want to talk about. Does...this mean he does want to talk about them?  To you?

“And that stunt he pulled!” Sollux bursts out, throwing his arms out in front of him and turning his face towards you.  Not to look at you, but like he’s ranting in your direction, as if to solicit a response from you. “He could’ve gotten all of you killed!  How the fuck did he know I would show up on time for that?  There’s no way. He couldn’t have possibly known I was on my way there.  Could he? Has he said anything about any of that to you?”

Now he is looking at you, which definitely suggests he wants you to talk back at him in some way. “You mean, about knowing that you were coming?” you ask.  You’re very confused.  “I haven’t talked to him since that thing happened, seeing as we’ve been imprisoned.”

“No, obviously I know that,” he says.  “I’m in this cell with you, dingus.  I mean about how he just happens to know things. How does he do that?”

“Uh, I don’t know, or I guess I never realized that was a thing that he could do at all,” you say. “I just always assumed he was smarter than normal, and that he had amazingly good powers of deduction.”

“No, fuck that, there’s something else going on,” Sollux says.  He lifts himself a little bit like he’s preparing to actually sit up, but he pauses.  “Or was. I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.” And he flops back down, but in a slow roll onto his back, so that he’s staring up at the ceiling.

“Uh,” you say. You don’t understand what’s going on.  You had convinced yourself that Sollux never wanted to talk to you again, but that’s not what it sounds like anymore.  It just sounds like he’s sad, which makes sense in the context of him having a relationship with Dirk, but he specifically said that he didn’t.  But he did kiss him, which definitely suggests that he has feelings for Dirk, enough that even someone as dumb as you could reasonably consider it good evidence.  So maybe that’s it.  Maybe he’s just sad about Dirk being gone, and it’s making him less conversational with you about other topics.  “Are you upset that you’ll never see him again?” you ask.

Sollux lets out a slow sigh. “It doesn’t matter,” he says after a moment.  “We have other things to worry about.  Like whatever horrible fate is going to befall us the next time someone walks through that door.”

Oh, there’s also that reason for feeling depressed and unconversational.  You nod, but you stop when you really think about it. Sollux can hear the voices of trolls who are about to die.  Your blood pusher sinks.  “Are...they going to cull us?” you ask.

“No,” he says. “At least, not yet. Maybe they will someday. They’re probably just going to torture us or something for now.”

“And, uh...you can’t tell if that’s going to happen?”

“I can only hear voices of the imminently dead.  Shit, can you imagine how much worse it would fucking suck to hear the voices of the tortured on top of that?  Wow, no, that’d blow chunks right out the protein chute.  I’ll take my almost-dead screams as is.”

“Yeah, I agree, that sounds terrible,” you say.  You pause, and your mind wanders to the possibilities you’ve only vaguely considered before.  Your mouth gets a little dry.  “Did you, um, manage to destroy the coffee, before we ruined everything on accident?”

“I don’t know,” he says, and a sickish feeling fills up your nutrition sack.  “We were waiting for the poison to fill the right waterways when we heard the alert.  I left Kk and Tz with the code to run the program once the concentration reached the right levels.  Maybe we were a good distraction for them to get it all done right.  I doubt anyone was paying attention to the system while we were breaking shit on the launch pads.”

“Oh, maybe,” you say. You push down the feeling in your nutrition sack with that possibility and invest as much hope into it as you can. “That’s a positive thought, at least.”

“I guess.  At least we probably won’t become coffee test subjects, which is comforting for all the worst reasons.  Looks like slavery is the more likely outcome for us. How reassuring.”

You look down at him, trying to find something optimistic to say, but you can’t think of anything. You know what slavery is probably going to mean for him, and you feel the tightness constricting your chest again. You get the impulse to reach over to him.  You’re not sure why or to do what, but the urge brings some other feelings bubbling up into your chest. You resist it, though, because you don’t think it would be appropriate.  You sigh and lay down next to him instead, not quite close enough to touch.  “I don’t know what kind of slavery I would be good for,” you say, hoping to distract Sollux from thinking too hard about his own future.  “Like you said before about me, I don’t have any marketable skills, or a reliable lower body, or a good blood color.  Maybe my finesse with beast could be useful?  But spaceships don’t keep many beasts that aren’t lusii or food stock, and those don’t need caretakers like me.  I just hope that if it’s something else, it won’t be...bad.”

Sollux turns towards you and examines you for a moment, in a way that makes you think he’s pondering about your desirable attributes as a slave.  Maybe he knows more about the slave market than you do. He could probably help you brainstorm some possibilities for your future.  But instead of speaking, he lifts his hand and brushes the back of his fingers against your cheek.

You don’t know why such a simple touch affects you so much.  The tightness in your torso unravels in a overwhelming wave of feeling that collapses into your bloodstream, so that all your uncertainty and dejection is dispersing through you.  The misery you’ve been trying to ignore rolls out from the inside of whatever part of you you’ve been trying to hide it, but it destroys your anxiety on the way, so that you don’t feel overburdened by your insecurities anymore.  You just feel like everything you really do feel has been released.  It hurts, but it’s comforting.  You don’t remember the last time you felt this safe facing your own emotions.

“You should’ve gone with Dirk,” Sollux says, and his voice reminds you to feel self-conscious. But you don’t, even though he’s right next to you, watching you feel bad about yourself and your situation. You look at him, examining his face, and you get the urge to reach out for him again.  Since he did it first, this time, you do. You touch his face like he touched yours.  You figure that would be okay.

“You would’ve been alone,” you say.  “And it’s my fault you’re here in the first place.”

He reacts like he did when you touched him outside of Gamzee’s respiteblock, but instead of pulling away, he hesitates and lets his cheek rest against your hand.  The situation feels bizarre, and you almost still think that this is something that can’t happen.  You can’t convince yourself that Sollux doesn’t like you anymore, because he obviously likes you well enough, but this still seems like too much not disliking you to be possible, when it’s your fault he’s here and you’ve done nothing but cause him problems since this whole ordeal started.  But you feel something wet slide against the skin of your hand, and when Sollux reaches up to take off his glasses, you see the gloss of translucent yellow liquid filling in his eyelashes for the short amount of time it takes him to scoot into the curve of your body and bury his face against your shoulder.

“You’re a fucking idiot. Did you really think throwing yourself into slavery would prevent either of us from being alone?” he says into your shirt, and you’re so shocked you can’t reply.  This doesn’t seem like a Sollux thing to do. You don’t know how to react. “Do you know how fucked you are now?  I mean, I’m fucked, yeah, but that’s how shit happens with me.  I am always fucked. You just had to be a jackass and make sure you got fucked, too, didn’t you?  I was trying to fucking help you.”

“But, that’s what I’m doing, too,” you say, perplexed.  “That is, trying to help you.”

“No, that’s not—by ‘help,’ I mean ‘save,’ since apparently you’re willing to throw self-preservation to the barkbeasts to prove to yourself that you’re worth something. This whole shit mission has been nothing but you taking orders from your imagination to sacrifice yourself for some fucked up ideal you probably picked up while FLARPing with the Scourge Sisters.  I have been trying to keep you from doing that. Damn it, I didn’t want you here!”

“Uh, but...you seem like you do, right now,” you say.  “You, uh, sort of seem like, um...is what I think happening actually happening, or am I misreading this situation as something it’s not?”

“Shut up, I don’t fucking know,” he says.  “Can we both agree that this whole ass-backward adventure has been nothing but emotionally draining and just lay around like this for a while?  I don’t want to think about slavery, coffee, dying, aliens, or whatever this is that’s happening right now for at least the next two hours.  Just do me a favor and don’t ask me any questions about it.”

“Uh...are they going to leave us in here for two hours, do you think?”

“Shut up,” he says, dropping his hand onto your face.  After a pause, it slips over your ear and slides below your horn, and his thumb strokes the fuzz of your hair so gently you almost can’t feel it. The sensation is soothing and bewildering.  Your own hand feels limp and useless behind Sollux’s back.

“Do you...want me to comfort you in some way, to aid you in finding emotional tranquility?” you ask tentatively.

You notice the tips of his ears grow a little more yellow.  After a few seconds, he says, “Sure, knock yourself out.” 

You have no idea what you’re doing, but you wrap your arm loosely around him.  You do what he’s doing with your hair, brushing your thumb against his body in soft patterns.  The movement seems awkward and noncommittal to you, but after a while, you feel him grow heavy against you, like he’s relaxing slowly. You wish he hadn’t told you to shut up, because you’d really like to know what’s happening between you both right now.  You’re pretty mystified. But you’re going to respect his wishes and give him some time to calm down.  To distract yourself, you retrieve Dirk’s glasses from your breast pocket and put them on like him told you to do. 

You freeze. “Uh...” you say, reaching up to adjust the shades.

“What?” Sollux says, almost sleepily.

“I think Dirk’s sunglasses are talking to me.”

“What?”

“...Sorry?” you say. You glance over at Sollux, who’s turned his head to look at you with an expression that you would probably also be wearing if you were in him.  “So, um, is this...Dirk?”

“Um, okay,” you say. “I...probably understood some of that. So, uh, to summarize definitively, you’re not Dirk, and you live within the glasses?”

“Let me take a look at those,” Sollux says, plucking the sunglasses off your face.  He puts them on.  “Let’s see what Dirk—wait, what the fuck?  ...Okay, cut the shit.  What are these things?  ...What do you mean, ‘programmed?’  As in...wait, what?  ...No fucking way.  You mean to tell me that smug asshole somehow made a perfect digital copy of his brain, and instead of doing something cool with it, he used it to create talking fucking sunglasses?  ...No, I’m not fucking jealous, okay, just appalled that someone who’s so obviously brilliant at coding would waste their talent programming a gaudy as shit personal accessory, so why don’t you go take a dip in a load gaper. ...These shades don’t even brush the fringe of being cool.  The shining standard of coolness is so far from what these shades are that only the basest of spare photons glance off their lenses.  They’re fucking tawdry as hell.  ...What do you mean, ‘the easy way?’  You mean he’s not brilliant at coding?  ...Roxy? The other human? ...Fuck no, my hacking skills are bananas.  I don’t need to see her work to know she ain’t got shit on me.  ...You don’t count because you’re a literal computer program. Obviously you’d be good at that shit. Inorganic entities aren’t on the hacking roster.  ...Oh, fuck you, I could give you a damn good run for your money if I really wanted to, even if I’m not literally a brain connected to the fucking Troll Internet, so suck my frond.  ...Shit, wait a goddamn second, you’re—you’re the reason he fucking knows everything! He was wearing a pair of computer glasses the whole fucking time!  What a shiteating poser, I can’t even believe I let him lead me on like that.  I’m such an idiot. I didn’t even think—FUCK you’re the thing I kept seeing in the system!  Fucking shit.  I’m the worst. I’m the worst hacker in the whole galaxy and I hate myself for not considering this possibility. Obviously the first fucking possibility for an unidentifiable alien entity in the system would be tech carried by the resident alien. Just fuck me right up the chute. ...No, what?  You’re a pair of sunglasses, I’m not even going to entertain that idea.  ...Don’t call me Sparky.  ...Okay, no, I’m done.”

Sollux drops the shades on your chest with disgust and lays back down, crossing his arms angrily. You pick them up and return them to your own face.

“Uh, hi, Mr. Lil Hal, it’s me again,” you say.

“Yeah, that is something I’m wondering, actually,” you say.  You have no idea what’s going on, but you’ve decided that it’s exciting and you enjoy it.

“You are?” you ask, and your excitement increases tenfold.

“You can really assuredly make that sort of declaration?” you ask.

“Uh...is cyber terrorism what we’re going for?” you ask.

“What’s this about cyber terrorism?” Sollux asks, lifting his head again.

“No, nothing, just that the option is nice,” you say.  Sollux frowns.

“...Are you?”

“Uh...he says, ‘we’re going to take over the empire and claim brutal justice for what was done to our people,’” you read.  Sollux snorts.

“Good fucking luck,” he says, laying back down.

“Oh, okay, I can manage that,” you say.  You turn to Sollux. “He says Dirk is going to make plans and we’ll need to stay alert.”

“Let me talk to it,” Sollux says, holding out his hand.  You take the shades off and give them to him.  He shifts a little more onto his back so the points of the shade aren’t jamming you in the chest, and you listen to him make what sound like intelligent plans mixed into a constant barrage of disgruntled bickering and boasting.  A lot of conversation about coding and hacking happens.  Sollux’s body is just a little cooler than yours and angular, and the soothing contact you share begins to remind you about your chronic lack of sleep by encouraging you to become drowsy.  Sollux likes to throw his hands around when he talks, which prevents you from dozing off entirely, but you’re getting pretty close.

“Red, obviously,” you hear Sollux say through a screen of haze.  “Blue.  Blue. Still blue.  Why are you asking me these questions? ...Oh, I get it. I see what this is about. Oh ha ha, let’s all laugh at the guy who likes red and blue way too much, let’s all make fun of the predictable fuck who always pulls the same two colors out of the fucking hat. What a boring asshole, no wonder nobody fucking likes him.  Just look at how much he sucks as a person!  ...I fucking know I’m colorblind you shitslurping fuckpod you think I haven’t figured it out yet?  I’m a fully pupated adult and I’ve never seen the color green in my life, obviously at some point I’d catch wind that something’s not quite right. I’m just as fucked in the eyes as I am in the pan, just a fleshy sack of defects and mistakes of nature, I get it.  Look at this circus act, he likes red and blue because that’s all he can fucking see right. Fuck, forget psionic slavery, we should stick him up in front of the subjugglators and let his personal shortcomings entertain the masses for how completely stupid they are!  ...No, I am not being sensitive about this, this is a big fucking deal, okay?  You know how hard it is to figure out the hemospectrum when you can’t see green?  It’s a fucking spectrum. Maybe it’s all funny jokes and ‘laugh at the freak’ for you, you’re a fucking computer.  You don’t even have blood.  You’re a machine.  ...Oh, now who’s being sensitive?  What, you don’t like being called a machine?  Because that’s what you are. ...Okay, yeah, fine, whatever.  Here Tav, it wants to talk to you now.”

You jolt awake as Sollux leans over and shoves Lil Hal onto your face.

“Uh, no, not really,” you say, reaching under the shades to rub your eyes.  “Maybe a little bit.”

“No, I think it would be better if I didn’t, given the circumstances, so maybe having a conversation is a good idea actually,” you say.  “Sorry about Sollux, though.  I think he’s just wound up a bit.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Sollux snaps, turning into you.  You notice that he’s watching you in a way that says maybe he didn’t really want to stop talking to Lil Hal.

“Uh, wow, um...yeah, if I were to make a hypothesis about what’s happening, I would say that would be it,” you say, keenly aware of Sollux’s attention.  “But to be sure, that should be a conversation you have later, just to confirm that everyone’s intentions are the same, and also to make it an official thing, since before that happens, it’s just...uh...”

“Oh, yeah, and that’s fair, as a point of confusion that happens really often with these sorts of, um, issues.”

“Uhhhhh...what?”

Your face is burning with a blush, and you wonder if Lil Hal can feel it.  You try not to glance over at Sollux to see if he can tell.  “Uh...okay, if...you say so,” you say.  “But, uh...I don’t know if I can...do that, in that way, as in to take advantage of the situation successfully the way you’re suggesting...”

“If you say so,” you say again.

You’re about to respond when the lock on the cell door clicks open.  Both you and Sollux jolt upright as the door cracks open. A figure stands silhouetted in the light from the hallway.  The form is familiar to you, and you can’t help but grin.  He puts a finger up to his mouth to warn you to be quiet.

“Gamzee!” you say in half a whisper, pushing yourself off the floor.

“Hey, bro,” he says, stepping forward to hug you.  “I’m here to be all about rescuing up you motherfuckers.  We gotta hurry, though, before someone gets their notice on to the fact that I ain’t supposed to be here.”

“Right!”

Chapter Text

Gamzee leads you through the incarceration levels the same way he led you to the coffee shop—silently, with an edge you don’t understand.  He doesn’t sneak.  He walks like he’s not trying to break out two prisoners, like he’s just going about his business.  You and Sollux trail behind unsurely, because this isn’t how you imagined breaking out would be. You barely had time to imagine what would happen differently, but the little imagination you did make about it wasn’t like this.

A guard stands at the heavy doors to the lift, the only lift to the incarceration levels. You expect something to happen, like for Gamzee to duck into the shadows and for you to follow, maybe to make plans about distractions and clever tricks, but none of that happens. Gamzee keeps walking, straight up to the guard.  You follow, because that’s what you think he expects you to do, but you’re getting nervous. Sollux wears a grim expression next to you that makes you think he shares your opinions on the situation, but instead of wanting to hide, he looks like he’s getting ready for a fight. You don’t want that. A fight sounds exactly like the kind of plan that wouldn’t be wise to enact in the incarceration levels. The press of a button could bring hordes of other guards, and the walls are specially designed to resist blasts from psionics.  Breaking out wouldn’t be possible at all if you got into a fight now.

The guard drops his eyes when Gamzee stops in front of him, like everyone does when they’re in the presence of a subjugglator.  He’s a high midblood, you see from his sign.  His eyes dart past Gamzee to you.

“Proof of clearance?” he asks.

“Look me in the motherfuckin’ face and tell me I can’t pass,” Gamzee says.  His voice drops low and soft.  You feel chills shiver over your skin.  You’ve never thought of Gamzee as a subjugglator before, not really, but now...you realize that he’s got everything any other subjugglator has.  There are nightmares in his voice.

“These are high-security prisoners,” the guard says.  You can hear in his weak tone that he’s afraid, even though he’s trying not to be.  He can’t help it. That’s the point of chucklevoodoos.  “I need proof of clearance.”

Gamzee’s hand flashes up to the guard’s neck so fast you jump.  You almost expect to hear the sickening snap of a breaking spine, but you don’t. The guard goes rigid, staring up into Gamzee’s face, and his eyes dance with purples and pinks. He reaches over and opens the door.

Gamzee boards the lift, and you follow after him, glancing at the entranced guard.  He’s got sweat at his temples.  You’ve never seen anyone put under a chucklevoodoo curse before, and it makes you shudder.  You know you shouldn’t be surprised that Gamzee can do a thing like that. He’s always been a purpleblood, fated to inherit these powers.  You just never actually made the connection before.  You look over at him as the lift begins to descend, and when his eyes slide to yours, they’re burnt yellow, lidded and sharp like you’ve noticed they get sometimes.  It hits you how much he’s changed.  He’s changed so much, but even as the thought passes through your pan while you study his face, you realize that if he really changed all that much, you wouldn’t feel safe looking at him this way.  He’s still Gamzee in the end, if you’re not afraid to stare him in the eyes right after he did some dark purpleblood mind magic. And anyway, he’s doing it for you, so that must mean you’re safe.  You relax, and you almost think his eyes soften looking at you, like he was waiting to see how you would react.

“Uh,” you say, starting a little.  You forgot about Lil Hal.  “I don’t know if that’s a thing that happens very often, actually?  Usually violence is a more common tactic for subjugglators, I think.”

“It’s the glasses,” Sollux says, and you realize Gamzee is giving you a really confused look.

“Oh, yeah, they talk. Or, uh, chat, I guess, since sunglasses don’t come equipped with speakers usually.”

“Those shades...they’re that alien motherfucker’s?” Gamzee asks.

“Yeah, he gave them to us, because apparently they can hack and do other useful things,” you say.

“These motherfuckin’ glasses know how to get their hack on?” Gamzee asks, leaning in closer to examine them.

“They can do a lot of things. There’s, uh, a version of Dirk living inside of them, except that he’s also connected to the internet and super smart.”

“Motherfuckin’ miracles...”

“Oh, right. Hey, Gamzee, do you have a plan in mind, or are we just...going to walk out?”

“I got some kind of motherfuckin’ plan having to do all with my wicked fuckin’ authority as what blood caste I am, but mostly we’re just gonna up and run before no one more important than me gets their notice on about it,” he says.  “I got Karkat waiting in some place down where at the lowblooded motherfuckers get their chill on.  He’s in some deep motherfuckin’ shit on account of the shirt you got let borrowed.”

“Oh no...really?” you ask, your blood pusher sinking. 

“Wait, what?” Sollux asks.

“I...borrowed one of Karkat’s shirts, so I could sneak around without anyone bothering me too much, since apparently he can do that while wearing a grayed symbol,” you say. “But...the guard at the coffee shop asked me about it, and then I threw it into the trash, thinking maybe that would help, but I guess it didn’t.”

“So they think Kk’s related to all of this?” Sollux asks, looking at Gamzee.

“Yeah,” he answers shortly.

“Shit...I’m sorry, Gamzee,” you say.  “We were supposed to make it so Karkat wouldn’t get involved with the rescue mission, but I made it so he is, in a big way, and...wow, that was really dumb of me.” Your insecurities begin to swell again, and this time, they don’t only tell you that you’re dumb but also so big a failure that you get vulnerable people into trouble for your mistakes. You should have known that Karkat would be recognized for his sign.  He’s the only one who has that sign, and in gray, on the upper decks. And now he and Gamzee have to run away, too.  You just keep making everything worse and worse.

You’re beginning to sink into your anxiety when you feel fingers brush tentatively against your palm. “What happened with the coffee plantations?” Sollux asks.

“As far as what I’ve heard about it, we ain’t got to get our worry on about that no more,” Gamzee says. “Ain’t no more motherfuckin’ coffee. All the motherfuckers on the upper decks be all up and pitching fits like you ain’t never seen.”

Your anxiety builds, and you thread your fingers into Sollux’s.  He tightens his grip.  “Do they know about Kk’s involvement in that?” he asks.

“Not that I heard a motherfuckin’ thing about,” Gamzee says.  “They think it was those human motherfuckers what did the coffee plants in somehow. Karkat’s just the motherfucker what they think helped them.”

“Along with us,” Sollux says.

“Yeah.”

“Are they really going to just...let us go, just because you’re a subjugglator?” you ask, watching Gamzee’s face for reassurances.

“We’ll just have to up and motherfuckin’ see,” he says.  Not really the reassurances you were hoping for.

You read over the messages a couple times and take a breath.  “Yeah, a little bit,” you say.

You take Lil Hal off your face and offer him to Sollux, who lets go of your hand to replace his own glasses with Hal.  The loss of contact heightens your uneasiness, but you don’t want to bother Sollux while he makes important plans, so you don’t do anything about it.  He mutters things to Hal as the lift comes to a stop in the maintenance decks.  Trolls scamper out of Gamzee’s way as he strides ahead of you.  You think Hal might be right about what he said concerning trolls being afraid of Gamzee.  The whole maintenance deck seems hushed, like everyone knows about the situation. If it’s as bad as what Hal and Gamzee were saying, they probably do.  You feel a little sorry for them.  Unlike you, they can’t run away, or at least they don’t consider that an option the same way you do.  Not that you have a choice.

Gamzee leads you to a part of the maintenance deck below the engine block that’s thick with wires and grub residue, or what you hope is grub residue and not sweeps’ worth of organic buildup dripping down the wires from the helmsman slaves permanently connected to the engine block above.  He squats down and teases apart a wall of wires.  Karkat’s head pops out.

“Holy shit, you actually got them out?” he says when he sees you and Sollux.

“Yeah, bro,” Gamzee says, brushing Karkat’s hair out of his face.  “And look, best friend, I got you a new motherfuckin’ shirt to help you get your disguise on!”

He pulls a shirt out of his pants with a teal symbol on the front.  Karkat wrinkles his nose at it.  “How the fuck did you get a shirt with a symbol on it? Did you make it?”

“Nah, I borrowed it.”

“You borrowed it.”

“Yeah, bro. The little motherfucker wearing it gave it up when I asked for it.”

“Do I want to know how you asked for it?” Karkat asks, but he shakes his head.  “You know what?  Never mind, I don’t want to know.  Hand it over.”

“Kk, did you get my computer?” Sollux asks as Karkat changes into the new shirt.

“Yeah, I got it. I’m frankly astounded you were willing to leave it with anyone else for longer than five minutes,” Karkat says, pulling it out for him.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect to get it back,” Sollux says, taking it.  He opens it and immediately launches a number of programs. You glance over his shoulders. He looks at you and takes off Lil Hal.  “Here,” he says, handing him to you.  “I can cover my own ass.  Work with him to cover yours.”

“Oh, is that a human game?” you ask.

“Wait, so we’re meeting up with the Scourge Sisters?” Sollux asks, skimming some messages on Trollian and looking at Karkat.

“That’s the plan so far,” Karkat says.  “It’s only a matter of time before someone glances at the surveillance footage and puts it all together, so they’re as deep in all of this hoofbeast shit as we are now.”

“I disabled the surveillance cameras,” Sollux says.

“Like no one’s going to look at the fact that their ship landed just before an empire-level crisis and left right after,” Karkat says.  “Besides, they say they’re bored.”

“Do they think this is one of their fucked up games?”

“That’s what I said!”

“Okay, whatever, we’ll worry about it later.  Can we get out of here?  I hate being this close to the engine block.”

“What, are we not going to make a plan first?”

“We’ve already made one.”

“Who?  You and the idiot who nearly got all of us fucking killed?” Karkat asks, pointing at you. You drop your eyes and shift on your legs, but the sounds from the engine block drown out the whirr of your hydraulics.

“No, me and Dirk,” Sollux says, frowning.

“Oh, even better!” Karkat says.  “You and the human who—wait, what?  How the fuck are you still in contact with it?”

“Don’t worry about it, Kk, we’re handling it.”

“What kind of answer is that? That asshole fucked all of us over, and you expect me to just believe that you’re both going to work together to get us out of this clusterfuck like that bulgemunch didn’t completely undermine us mere hours ago with the help of this gullible dunce?”  He gestures at you again, and you’re beginning to suspect that he’s angry with you.

“Kk, would you stop flipping your shit for once?  We were fucked to begin with, and this is just a different kind of being fucked than we would have been before.  As far as we know, this could be a better situation than the one we would’ve had to deal with, since the highbloods all have their heads up their nooks crying about coffee.  If we can sneak out while they’re distracted, we’re fucking golden.  We’ve got a plan, so can we go?”

Karkat huffs and looks at Gamzee, who shrugs.  “Ain’t no better time, best friend,” Gamzee says.  Karkat grimaces and glances over at you.

“Why the fuck are you wearing those gaudy shades?” he asks.  “Do you drape yourself in the human’s shit while you fondle your nook thinking about him?  You disgust me.”

“Uhhhh...” you say, blushing faintly, and Karkat rolls his eyes.  You think you’ve given him the wrong idea, but before you can explain, he’s pushing past you towards the exit.

“Let’s go, then, if we’re going to be a bunch of spongeless idiots about this."

Gamzee turns to follow and rests his hand gently on Karkat’s shoulder.  You can’t see the look he gives him, but Karkat lets him go first. Sollux puts his computer away and, as he walks past you, sets his hand lightly on your lower back for just a second to tell you to walk with him.  At least, that’s what you think he means by the gesture.  It makes you feel a little better in any case.

“Tav,” he says in a soft almost-whisper as you both follow behind Karkat and Gamzee. Again, no one bothers you as you all walk through the maintenance decks.

“Uh...yeah?”

“Do you remember what happened when AA died?”

The question takes you off guard. You glance at him. His lips are pressed together in that way he gets when he’s being serious but not exactly angry. “...Yeah?” you say, sensing from the look on Sollux’s face and the subject matter that you should begin to feel uncomfortable with this conversation.  “I mean, I wasn’t...there...but I remember that she used to visit, after my accident, and then one day, she just...stopped.”  The memory gurgles up into your think pan, and you try not to think about it too much.

“But you know what happened, right?”

“Yeah.  Kanaya told me, after a long time wondering.” That conversation is another thing you don’t want to remember.

He exhales through his nose, and you notice he’s looking away, like to betray uncertainties you don’t think you understand.  “Okay, so...fuck,” he says.  He runs his hand through his hair.  “The way you—you and her—I never used to think you were like her at all, okay?  I never used to really get why you two worked so well together, besides the fact that you were both pretty decent. I mean, I get that you were friends, but besides your notable lack of psychopathic tendencies, your personalities weren’t—you were always kind of a huge pushover, and she wasn’t. But I think I get it now. You know, the FLARPing bullshit always kind of struck me as stupidly dangerous and a huge waste of time, but I guess it takes a certain kind of person to be about that kind of thing. Obviously the Scourge Sisters had their own stuck-up, ancestor-obsessed reasons, and fuck Eridan, he’s exactly the kind of guy who would get a kick out of role playing some megalomaniacal asshole to act out his power fantasies, but you and Aradia...I didn’t get why you would even bother.  FLARPing is fucking deadly as shit and you were both lowbloods acting like it was some big adventure with all these fun escapades and challenges.  Like no, it’s not, it’s legitimately unsafe for trolls with your blood colors to participate. I thought you were both just too naive to see that, but maybe I was the one who didn’t get it.  Maybe...fuck, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.  I’m trying to say I’m worried about all that. That you and her were more alike than I thought.”

“You’re...worried that I’m like her?” you say, growing more confused and uncomfortable.  “I don’t follow.”

“That’s because I’m not making any fucking sense because I’m a fucking idiot,” he says, exhaling in a huff and rustling his hair more in frustration.  “Look, Tav, Aradia died because she picked fights where she shouldn’t have, okay? Because she listened to those fucking voices that told her she needed to do more than she had to, when everyone else was telling her it was a bad idea. And because she felt like it was the right thing to do, in your defense.  And here you are, with your fucking imagination and your fake self-confidence convincing you to do stupid, dangerous things you don’t need to do because you’ve got all these dumb ideals about saving aliens and being the good guy and whatever else your spongeless pan makes you believe. You see what I mean? I’m worried you’re going to get yourself killed just like Aradia did because you care too much about what you think should be done when everyone else is telling you that what you’re thinking of doing is a bad idea. Because you don’t listen to me.”

You stare at him, memories flashing through your think pan and jumbling your thoughts.  You didn’t realize that he felt that way. Was he thinking that, this whole time?  Were you making him remember bad thoughts about Aradia?  Is...everything he’s saying about you and Aradia true? But maybe if you had been in Aradia’s position and she was the one who had gotten hurt...maybe you would have done the same thing she did.  Maybe he’s right to be worried.  And maybe you should start to rethink the way you’ve been doing things, because you remember what it felt like, to be left behind.  To wait for someone to come back and they never do, because of...you.

“Tav,” Sollux says, grabbing your arm, and you didn’t realize that you had dropped your eyes to the ground. You look up at him, even though you don’t really want to continue thinking about the things he’s talking about now. He stares you in the eyes. “We have another chance to get out of this shit, which is pretty fucking miraculous,” he says. “Not the ludicrous kind of miraculous, I mean, the—fuck, you know what mean.  But if something goes wrong or shit hits to fan, you need to listen to me when I tell you to give it up and run or hide or whatever.  Even if you think it’s not something your dumb imagination muse would do.  Sometimes the kind of things your psycho FLARPing buddies apparently taught you to think as cowardly are just smart, got it? Confidence isn’t fighting battles you can’t win.”

Your throat is feeling kind of dry, but he keeps staring you in the eyes, so you nod.  “...Okay,” you say, even though you’re not done processing all the stuff he’s telling you.  You’ve been trying so hard to resist your cowardly instincts lately, you don’t know if you can resist the urge to resist them.  Not when you’ve been telling yourself that that’s what confidence is. If you want to be confident, what do you do now?  How do you make yourself have self-esteem?  Are you...supposed to go back to the way you were before you got your legs and decided confidence was something you definitely have, without a doubt, because you could fight against your weak nature? 

You’re such an idiot. You were lying to yourself about your leg-powered self-esteem this whole time.  You’re not only definitely not a hero, you probably don’t have that personality trait in you to become one in the future through hard work and a lot of single-minded hoping.  Maybe you really were meant to be a glitchy-legged janitor with no discernible positive qualities after all.

The hand gripping your arm relaxes and slides down to intertwine with your fingers.  You wonder what Sollux thinks about you right now or if he can guess what you’re thinking.  Here are all your flaws and shortcomings, falling out all over the place, and like always, you can’t keep them disguised. But he’s still holding your hand, so he must not hate you about them, even though he’s apparently figured them all out enough to point them out to you.  That’s comforting, at least.  Maybe, if he’s willing to like you still, he can help you work something out for yourself.  You’ve never really had someone who was willing to do that before, besides Vriska, who wasn’t really helping you work anything out so much as working everything out for you in the worst possible ways.  If you make sure to be careful and not ruin everything, maybe Sollux can help you adjust to your destiny as the guy with no talents or good qualities. He can be the one with all the positive qualities between the two of you.

You startle so badly you almost trip.  Sollux looks at you with an eyebrow raised, and you adjust Lil Hal in an obvious manner. “Sorry, we forgot you were here,” you say, and Sollux’s face erupts in a golden blush.  His grip on your hand loosens like he’s going to drop it, but he curls his fingers again just before they slip from yours.

“Uh, yeah, that...that’s reassuring,” you say.  “Thanks.”

You smile a little at the Pupa Pan allusion.  It reminds you of when you were first getting to know Dirk, passing notes back and forth in the coffee shop beneath all the stars twinkling outside the huge windows. That thought brings back some of the good feelings you had about Dirk and saving him from enslavement, which does make you feel better.  “Thanks,” you say.  You curl your fingers to pull Sollux’s hand back into yours.

Gamzee and Karkat turn around to face you as they board the lift, and Karkat’s face does something weird when he notices that you and Sollux are holding hands.  You and Sollux both let go self-consciously as you catch up to them.  “What was that?” Karkat asks as the doors close.  The lift begins to rise.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sollux says.

“How long has that been happening?”

“I said mind your own business.”

“Fuck that, if we’re about to face death and that’s happening in the background, I deserve to know about it!”

“How can you actually fool yourself into believing that sort of shit logic?”

You glance at Gamzee as they continue to bicker.  He sends you a lazy smile.  “Good for you, bro,” he says.  You brighten considerably.

“Shut up, Kk, we’re almost there,” Sollux snaps, and Karkat shuts his mouth with an angry noise.  “Gz, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Gamzee’s eyes slide to Sollux and sharpen just enough to notice.  “Sure, bro,” he says in a way that seems like it should be as lazy and casual as the smile he sent you, but a different energy threads through his tone.  “I been around the launch pads a bunch of times for to get my motherfuckin’ invasion on. I know how to be about dealing with the motherfuckers down here.”

“Oh, yeah, you participate in invasions,” you say, a thought that both astonishes and troubles you. The idea of Gamzee fighting in an invasions is just...strange.  It adds another side of him to consider.

“Don’t get your worry on about it, bro,” he says, ruffling your hair.  “Ain’t gonna do that no more, right?”

“Oh, right,” you say.

“Are we ready?” Sollux asks. The lift comes to a stop.

“Just keep your motherfuckin’ heads down like a nice couple of lowblood bitches and let me do all the motherfuckin’ talking,” Gamzee says.  You don’t have much time to think about that comment before the doors swish open, but you exchange a look with Sollux.  He falls next to you, and Karkat walks in line with the two of you instead of with Gamzee this time.

The launch pads are muted with the same tension affecting the maintenance levels of the ship. Workers move around with their heads lowered, repairing pods and organizing the docks mostly in silence. Their voices are hushed. When Gamzee saunters into the open, heads flick up and down almost instantly, and you can almost feel the air grow thicker with apprehension.  He leads you all across the pads to the intership transportation pods, and when you look around, you see eyes peeking at you from beneath hair and eyebrows.  The thought flashes across your pan that you might be recognizable from the previous disturbance you caused on the launch pads.  You hope that isn’t the case, but whispers follow you.

“Me neither,” you try to whisper, but your voice is loud.  You bite your tongue.

“Hey there, motherfucker,” Gamzee says, strolling up to a troll with a clipboard near one of the intership transportation pods.  The troll freezes. “We need one of these here pods to get ready to motherfuckin’ launch as soon as motherfuckin’ possible.”

The troll’s eyes dart past Gamzee to you, just like the guard’s did in the incarceration decks. You glance around and notice that the other trolls have stopped working.  They’re watching you.  “We’ve been ordered to keep all pods docked until further notice,” the troll says.  “We’re preparing for attack, and we’ve recently received confirmation of escaped prisoners.”

You blood pusher stutters, and you glance at Sollux.  Beside him, Karkat looks even more worried than you feel.

You don’t know, but you’re too afraid of the loudness of your voice to respond.

Gamzee tilts his head, but with his back to you, you can’t see his expression.  “So get me an attack pod and consider this a motherfuckin’ attack,” he growls.  Your skin crawls with his words.  Out of the corner of your eyes, you see trolls moving away.

“We’re not authorized to initiate an attack without the Grand Highblood’s clearance.”

“Did I fuckin’ stutter?” Gamzee’s voice jumps up a notch in volume.  The troll lifts the clipboard up to her face and keeps her eyes down at Gamzee’s feet.

“We’re not authorized—“

An alarm blares. Red lights flash across the launch pads. “Alert!  Code Red!  Security breach: launch pads, zone 375!  Alert!  Code Orange!  Escaped prisoners: spotted, launch pads, zone 375!”

“Find cover!” Sollux says to you and Karkat as trolls around you pull out their weapons. You and Karkat both take off sprinting towards the far end of the launch pads as blue and red psionics flash behind you.

“Holy fuck,” Karkat breathes as you duck behind the wing of a pod.  You look around the metal sheet and nearly fall over with alarm as Sollux skids into view.  “Where’s Gamzee?” Karkat demands as Sollux pulls out his husktop.

“I don’t fucking know, Kk, give me a second!” Sollux snaps.  “I have to get the lifts offline.”

“Sollux isn’t a combat troll, though!” you say, squeaking with panic.

You bite your lip and turn to Sollux.  “Hal says he can do the lifts, and that you should concentrate—“

“On combat?” Sollux finishes for you, scowling.  “Fine. Stay here.”  He snaps his husktop closed and ducks from behind your cover.

“Fuck, fuck, oh god,” Karkat says, peeking around. “Where’s Gamzee? Where the fuck is Gamzee?”

“Uh,” you say, leaning around him.  Sollux’s psionics snake through the air, and metal gleams in the florescent lights as objects fly across the dock.  Sollux is not the only troll around with psionics, you notice with distress. Trolls are running back and forth across the launch pads, securing ships and dodging flying debris, and you’re sure Gamzee must be in there somewhere.  You can’t see him through the flashing red lights and all the movement.  But he should know how to fight well enough to hold his own, right?  He launches for invasions, which makes him a strong and capable troll.  Even though you’re still nervous, you let that thought make you feel better and keep your eyes on Sollux.

“Uh, but, you said that you could—Sollux is doing combat, like you said he should!” you say, watching Sollux divert the barrage of objects flung at him by another psionic.

“Shit...” you say, keeping your eyes on Sollux.  You don’t know if you can get close enough to him to call him over, or if he can get away even if you do.  And he told you to stay here.  You promised him you would this time.

“You blithering imbecile, fucking watch—!”

You barely manage to duck beneath the gigantic mace aimed at your head.  It hits the curve of your horn, cracking the keratin and throwing you onto your butt.  Before you can react, Karkat leaps around you and slices the troll’s hand off with his sickle, and the troll backs away with a howl.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, but I’m going to find Gamzee,” Karkat says to you over his shoulder.  “We’re fucking dead anyway, and I’m not going to hide while my moirail gets ripped to shreds somewhere else.”

You swallow hard as he runs into the launch pads, weapon clenched in his hands.  You stay on your butt.  Sollux’s psionics explode against another troll’s blast close to the high ceiling, taking out entire sections of florescent lights and darkening the pads so that only the red flashing alarms illuminate the fight. “What do I do?” you ask, trying to follow the glow surrounding Sollux.  You breath is coming sharp.

Think of something. That sounds like exactly the kind of thing you’re not good at doing.  You’re not a clever planner like Dirk or Sollux. All you do is make things worse. You don’t have any skills or positive qualities that could help right now.  All you have is an old lance you haven’t practiced wielding in half a sweep, your unsteady robolegs, and your ability to commune with beasts. And the only beasts on board are the feed stock and the lusii some trolls bring with them into...

You pause. Some trolls bring their custodian lusii with them into space.  They go with them into the invasions to help with attacks and to facilitate transportation on the ground.  They’re in all levels of the ship, in respiteblocks or lusii stations where they can be comfortable and contained.  And you can commune with them.

“I think I can make a distraction!” you say, squirming back into the cover of your hiding place. “If you can make the lifts not work for a little while longer, I can make it so less people can use them.”

That isn’t a lot of time to commune with every beast on the ship, especially with a ship as big as this one, but you don’t have time to waste thinking about how hard it’s going to be to do.  You close your eyes and bring your hands up to your temple.  You urge the lusii across the ship to break out of their respiteblocks and holding stations, into the hallways and cities, to find trolls and jostle them and break things.  You don’t have a good plan other than to be destructive and generally infuriating to every troll on board.  You focus on the upper decks, even though many trolls on that end of the hemospectrum have the kind of lusii that can’t be taken into space due to size or terrain constraints. The lusii that are there are powerful and proud, and you make sure they do whatever they can to make the distraction work.  You try not to think too much about what a bunch of angry, mentally unsound highbloods might do to rampaging lusii if they get in their way.

You don’t know what that means, but you hope it’s soon.  “What do we do when they get here?” you ask.  You don’t have much brain power to give towards not concentrating on communion, but you still try to lean around your hiding spot to find Sollux. Someone has boarded a ship and is using its ammunition to fire at Sollux, and you can’t see through the flashing red lights whether Sollux is handling that well on top of everything else. You do finally spot Gamzee and Karkat, though.  You breathe a sigh of relief that they’re still alive.

Open the hatch, which means...? You try to understand without breaking your concentration, but it’s too difficult.  You’ll just have to trust that Hal’s plan is the right thing to do.  You hope as hard as you can that whatever is going to happen will work.  It’s all you can do.  Between your concentration, the sirens of the alarm, and the flashing lights, your head is beginning to throb, so that it’s getting harder by the second to follow Sollux. You’re beginning to lose focus. He blazes into sharp relief in the light of a blast from his eyes, dodges a barrage from a gun in a swooping arc across the ceiling, dips down near the floor, hurdles some heavy objects at the trolls fighting Gamzee and Karkat, and—

You almost don’t register what happens, you’re so lost in your concentration.  You hear him hit the attack pod with a resounding crack, and it crashes back past your own hiding place.  Everything in your pan goes blank.  You’re not concentrating on communion anymore. “Sollux!” you shout, rushing towards the wreckage of the pod pileup.  It takes you a moment to find him.  “Oh no, oh no,” you say, dropping down next to him. Something on him is bleeding. You’re almost afraid to touch him, but you do, because you’re just as afraid not to.  He’s unconscious.  You search for a pulse, and your whole body floods with relief when you find one.

“He’s alive,” you say, pulling him to you.  When you cradle his head, you notice that his hair feels sticky.  You look down at your hand and see yellow.

“Open the hatch, as in...do you mean open the doors, as in to let a ship in?”

“Uh,” you say, glancing over at Gamzee and Karkat.  In the flashing red light, it’s hard to separate them from the trolls they’re fighting. There is no way they could hear your voice over the siren.  To your alarm, you see a new group of trolls run in from the lifts corridor. With your blood pusher pounding in your torso cage, you hug Sollux against you as well as you can and climb up into the nearest pod, trying to keep his head steady.  You set him down on the floor and glance over your shoulder. Your think pan is throbbing. All you can hear in your thoughts is the siren blaring across the launch pads.  You won’t be able to come up with a smart plan quickly enough to work.  You’re just going to have to get Gamzee and Karkat without thinking somehow.  You bite your lip and turn back to Sollux. The lenses of his glasses are cracked.  You take them off and replace them with Lil Hal, because Dirk told you to keep him safe and you don’t think what you’re about to do is safe at all.  You inhale a deep breath, which does nothing to help you from feeling terrified, and you stand, pulling your lance from your strife specibus.

Something knocks your feet from under you, and you fall with a yelp.  You look with shock over at Sollux.  He lifts a shaky hand to his head and presses his lips together.  “Got it,” he mumbles.

“You’re okay!” you say, scrambling over to him.  He doesn’t answer.  He just reaches up, grabs your horn, and yanks you down hard.  A second later, Karkat and Gamzee shoot through the door, surrounded by the blue and red of Sollux’s psionics, and crash into the wall behind you. The door slams shut and locks.

“The motherfuck—!” Gamzee snarls, sitting upright with his eyes blazing red, but he pauses when he sees you. “What—?”

“Brace yourselves,” Sollux says.  He tries to sit up a bit but lays back down with a groan.  You scoot a little closer to him and lean over to inspect his head a little better.

“What the hell—?” Karkat says, but a deep, metallic groan from outside of the ship interrupts him. You hear shouting. It’s the only warning you get before something moves the ship so violently that you all slam against the opposite wall, held there by whatever force is propelling the ship forward. It collides with something, and you’re all thrown to the side.  Sollux topples into you, and you grab him, holding him close with a protective hand over his head.  The noise is almost unbearable, both inside and outside of the ship, metal crashing into metal and terrible screaming.  You’re thrown around again and again as the ship hits more things, and in the darkness, you can’t tell where you are or what’s happening.  You just hold Sollux against you and hope as hard as you possibly can that everything will be okay.

Chapter Text

The pod is silent. Outside, you don’t hear anything. No one is screaming or shouting. No metal is shrieking. No siren is blaring in a constant, rhythmic boom.  The only sound is you, Sollux, Karkat, and Gamzee, groaning and picking yourselves off the floor.

“What the fuck was that?” Karkat asks, rubbing his head.

“Uh...I think that was what happens when the doors open,” you say.  “Without safety precautions, that is.”

“Oh, great. How about we never do that again,” Karkat says.  Gamzee honks in agreement.

“Tav,” Sollux says, tapping you on the arm.  You didn’t realize that you’re still holding him protectively against you.

“Are you okay?” you ask, loosening your hold.  You can’t tell if his head is still bleeding or if it’s starting to stop.  You reach up gingerly and leaf through his hair to find the wound, but he slaps your hand away.

“Take me to the navigation block,” he says.  “We’ve got to put some distance between us and them.”

“There’s no way this tin can still works after all that,” Karkat says as you help Sollux to his feet.

“Obviously,” he says. “But who gives a shit if it works or not?  I spent the last sweep as a fucking part-time helmsman, I think I can move a pod.”

“Uh...but are you...okay to do that?” you ask, even as you help him to the navigation block.

“I don’t know,” he says, “but I’m going to do it anyway.  Hal, tell them to set the rendezvous point behind the nearest planet. Yeah, that one. We’ll meet them there.”

Sollux sinks into a seat in front of the dead control panel.  Outside the window, a graveyard of broken metal and lifeless trolls floats through space, thick but dispersing into the void.  You swallow down bad feelings as Sollux begins to propel the pod through the wreckage.

“Fuck,” Karkat says, but not in an angry way.  More in a way that sounds like how you feel, sad and a heavy kind of shocked. The pod slides slowly around the debris, and you feel the sadness growing in your torso. “Can you speed this up a bit?” Karkat says.  “This is fucking depressing.  Are the whole launch pads out here?”

“Shut up, Kk, we’re trying to avoid detection,” Sollux says.  “They won’t know which pod is us with all our equipment off, but it’d be pretty fucking obvious if we were the only one to just shoot off into space.”

“But, uh, if we destroyed all of the launch pads, would it matter if they knew?  Can they still...follow us?” you ask. Sollux pauses.

“No, they can’t,” he says, and the pod blasts forward, plowing through the rest of the wreckage with ease.

“Are we going to meet up with Dirk and Roxy?” you ask, sitting next to Sollux.  Karkat also plops into a chair with a heavy groan, but you notice Gamzee sneak away into the pod out of the corner of your eye.

“Yeah,” Sollux says. “We should intercept them in an hour.”

“Are you going to be okay?” you ask, eyeing his sticky hair again.  You think the bleeding’s stopped.  He reaches up and tests the wound with a grimace.

“Yeah, whatever, it’s fine,” he says.  “It’s not that deep.”

You get up again and move to stand behind him, and this time, he doesn’t slap your hand away as you part his hair. You sigh with relief when you find that he’s right.  The wound isn’t very deep, and it isn’t bleeding anymore.  But you’re still worried about the chances of him having a concussion. “You should be careful, even if it’s feeling not bad,” you say, leaning around the chair.  “You were unconscious, which means that you suffered a serious blow, and so you probably shouldn’t strain yourself.”

“I’ll be fine. This is space. Once the ship is in motion, I don’t have to do a hell of a lot unless we have to change direction,” he says. “I’ll just need to pay attention so I can stop us when we get close.”

“Oh, okay,” you say, and, satisfied, you sit back down.  Sollux turns to look at you.

“What happened to your horn?” he asks. You start and try to glance at your horn, but you can only barely see it out of the corner of your eye. You reach up and feel a deep crack in the curve of the horn.  The tip wobbles at your touch, and you feel pain buzz down into your skull.

“Oh, yeah,” you say, wincing. “I got hit.  But Karkat saved me from sustaining more serious injuries.  Uh, which reminds me...”  You turn to thank Karkat, but he’s not in the navigation block.

“He’s probably checking up on the clown,” Sollux says, turning to look as well.  “Gz was pulling some sick moves out there. I was surprised, to be honest. Who knew he had it in him?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know either,” you say.  “Gamzee’s changed a lot since I last saw him.”

“I’m glad he’s on our side, shit.  Can you imagine what we would’ve had to put up with if he got on coffee?”

You remember what Gamzee said about coffee, but you don’t know if it’s appropriate to mention, so you don’t. But you agree. “Yeah, I’m glad he’s still our friend,” you say.  On that note, you and Sollux both fall silent.  You don’t know what he’s thinking about exactly, but you’re thinking about Gamzee and Karkat and their new place in your worries.  You’re beginning to feel the uncurling sensation of relief sinking into your limbs now that you’re safe enough to believe that you might be able to avoid death and slavery, but now you have to start considering a different future.  “So, uh, does that mean Gamzee and Karkat are going to be traveling with us and the humans?” you ask, turning to Sollux.

“I guess,” Sollux says. He sighs through his nose. “I don’t know what’s happening anymore.  This whole adventure has been a huge clusterfuck.  It sounds like the Scourge Sisters want to join us now, too.”

“Yeah, I heard about that, but, um...I don’t know if that would be a good idea.”

“Are you kidding? It’s a horrible idea. The worst fucking idea to introduce itself to this shit show yet.”

“Yeah, okay, I definitely agree wholeheartedly with that statement.  Should we...do something about it?”

“Fuck if I know. I don’t even think it’s a good idea to have Kk and Gz with us if Gz’s going to be like whatever the hell he’s become and Kk’s going to be flipping his shit the whole time. But do we have a choice? We got them into this mess.”

You drop your eyes and lean back in the chair.  Sollux is right, and you know it.  You did get them involved.  “But, do you think they’ll get along with each other?  I don’t think Dirk and Roxy, uh, like trolls much, especially...highbloods. They might be okay with Terezi, but I don’t know about Vriska.”

You look at Sollux for a reply.  “Vriska is the one we’ve been talking about,” he says.  “The mind control troll who was involved in the Aradia fiasco.”

“What?” you ask. He points to Dirk’s shades. “Oh.”

“At least the humans know what to expect,” he says, and you’re pretty sure he’s talking to you now. “Hal’s keeping them up to date.”

“Have they said anything about it?” you ask.  “To Hal?”

“Do you want to talk to him?” Sollux asks, and he takes the shades off without waiting for your reply. You take them from him and put them on.

“Hi,” you say with a smile. “That was a crazy thing you did, by opening the doors like that.  It was a good idea, even if it caused a lot of destruction and...”

“Uh...” you say, because he’s right and you’d rather not think about that right now.  You already have too many things to think about. “But, in the end, it worked, and we’re not being followed, right?”

“Yes, that sounds like a good plan,” you say.  “But, uh, is it okay that ‘us’ involves so many people now?  I know that Dirk was saying before that...he didn’t want to interact with trolls ever again, once he escaped from captivity.”

“Oh...yeah...those were all things she did,” you say.  “Uh...but she also got me into the ship where I met you as an apology for those things, so...”

“Uh, that might not be the best way to put it, no, but we’re not on the sort of terms that would make me feel the desire to let her be captured and potentially hurt for our crimes.”

“Oh yes, I agree that murderous troll bullshit should no longer be allowed to continue in our small group of refugees,” you say, nodding.  “I think ground rules would be an excellent idea, and I wholly support the making of said rules, especially by smart individuals like you and Dirk or maybe Sollux.”

Sollux snorts. “As long as the rules aren’t dumb as shit, I’m fine with whatever.”

You laugh. “Yes, my liege! Thank you, for your charitable kindness as our new overlord,” you say.  “Should the circumstances that physical needs or comforts arise in the future suddenly, I exist to do your bidding, as our beneficent tyrant.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Sollux says, and you laugh again.  You and Lil Hal fall into an easy role play concerning the circumstances of his perfect utopia as an AI overlord, which is actually not perfect at all in ways even you can identify, which makes the joke more fun for you.  Sollux doesn’t know exactly what Hal is saying, but he picks up enough to drop comments now and then.  The anxiety from the rescue mission begins to melt away, and your blood pusher grows lighter over the hour it takes to get the pod where it needs to be.  Lil Hal points out Dirk and Roxy’s pod once it becomes visible on the horizon of the green planet below you.  Excited, you go to get Karkat and Gamzee ready to switch pods.

Switching pods is a pain in the ass without your pod in functional condition, but mostly thanks to Sollux’s psionics, you manage to get the pods hooked up correctly. Dirk and Roxy are waiting for you when the doors open.  You greet them with a grin.

“Hi, we’re back,” you say with a little wave.

“Yeah, somehow! Dang,” Roxy says. She points at Karkat and Gamzee as they board the ship.  “Who’re they?”

“Oh, uh, these are our friends, who helped us to rescue you in ways you didn’t get to see happen,” you say. “This is Karkat, and this is Gamzee.”

“Hmmmm...you look familiar,” she says, eying Gamzee.  He glances from her to Karkat to you.

“Roxy,” Dirk says. “This is Sollux, the guy I was telling you about.”

Roxy’s attention snaps from Gamzee to Sollux, and a smirk curls on the corner of her mouth. “Oh, the hacker troll Casanova, huh?”

“Casanova?” Sollux repeats.

“Yeah, that kiss you planted on Dirk when everything was going to shit was legendary!  Straight out of the movies, you sly—”

“Whoa, wait, what kiss?” Karkat asks, butting into the conversation and looking straight at Sollux.

“Hey, Roxy, why don’t you take Sollux to the front and pester him about hacking?” Dirk says as Sollux drags his palm down a yellow cheek.  “And, other trolls, there are still a couple of rooms open, so you can claim one and get comfy.  You’ll know which ones are occupied.  Don’t mind the uncanny monsters.  Those are Tavros’s.”

“Oh, have they been behaving?” you ask as Karkat follows Sollux and Roxy to the navigation block, berating Sollux with questions, and Gamzee trails behind.  You and Dirk are alone in the bay.

“They’ve been pretty decent for uncanny monsters,” Dirk replies with a shrug.  “The more important question is how are you? It looks like we should do something about that horn.”

You reach up and touch your horn.  “Uh, yeah, maybe,” you say.  “But I think Sollux is more in need of medical attention, seeing as how he sustained a head injury that might have caused more damage than what’s apparent.”

“Noted.  We’ll have to bother him about that in a bit. Come here, let me take a look at that.”

You step forward dutifully and allow Dirk to inspect your horn.  He hums thoughtfully in his throat.  “I could fix this with a little metalwork,” he says. “How’s that sound? I bet it’d look badass. Not that you don’t already, with your other metal attributes.  I think you could easily pass as the most aesthetically badass guy among us if we pulled this off the right way.”

“Do you think so?” you ask, wishing you could actually see your horn.  You have your doubts about your ability to look badass, but you trust his opinion.  You like the thought.

You startle, and your ears become warm.  “Oh, uh...” you say, and now your head is full of thoughts that make it much harder to have a natural conversation.  Lay on the moves? After everything you went through, everything that was said between you and Sollux, you’re even less sure than you were before that you can successfully do that.  Right now, you know you’re too underprepared to figure out how to flirt properly, if that’s what you’re supposed to be doing. After a second of hesitation, you reach up and pull Lil Hal off your face.  “I kept him safe, like you asked me to,” you say, offering the shades to Dirk.  “And, uh, he kept me safe, too, which is something I should thank you for, a lot. I know it must have been a hard decision to let me borrow him, when the possibility that we wouldn’t see each other again was one you had to consider.  It was really great of you, and...I appreciate the sentiment, more than I think I could say in  a successful way, without sounding silly trying.”

A tiny smile tugs at the corner of Dirk’s lips, so small you’re almost unsure if you could call it a smile at all.  But you know him well enough now to tell what it is.  “Yeah. You know, I wouldn’t do that for everyone, but I felt like I could trust you with that side of me,” he says, reaching out to take the sunglasses back.  His finger brush yours.  You look up into his eyes, which are golden orange and bright in ways that you feel express his intelligence and strength of character.  Maybe you’re just reading too much into them, but it makes your blood pusher skip anyway.  You almost wish he wouldn’t put Hal back on, just for a while longer. You wish you could tell him that. You wish you could tell him about how nice his eyes look and how much you want to see them light up with happiness.

“Uh...” you say, and your blood pusher is stuttering in your torso cage.  You look down at his hand, his fingers brushing yours. “I, um...I’m glad, that I get to see you again, and that we have the chance to get to know each other better and travel together, even if the circumstances are still dangerous.”

“Hey,” he says, and he takes a step closer, right up to you.  You glance up at him, all kinds of feelings fluttering in your torso cage, and his lips brush against yours.  It’s not a hard or deep kiss, not like the one Sollux gave him, but you feel like your whole body is in it anyway, the way your mind focuses on the feathery contact like it’s the only place that matters.  His breath is warm and flavorless, wet and clean. His golden orange irises are crescents beneath his white eyelashes.  They flick up and look you in the eye, and you feel like your legs are going to go out from under you.  “We’ve got a new future ahead of us,” he says, quietly, like he can feel your blood pusher fluttering and doesn’t want to scare it away.  “Thanks to you.  Let’s make it count.”

You swallow somehow. “Yeah, definitely,” you say. “I think we can do that.”

“Good,” he says, and his smile is bigger, almost a real smile, and so close to your lips. But he takes a step back and puts his shades back on.  “Let’s get everything settled in.  We’ve got a lot to do, not the least of which is to find a habitable planet to settle. We’ll have time to catch up a little more later.”

The smile stays on the corner of his mouth as he turns towards the navigation block, where everyone else is waiting.  You grin, thinking of the future.  Even after everything you’ve been through and the threat of being found again someday, the future has never felt so hopeful and free, and you’ve never felt so included in its creation in such a positive, important way.  You saved the humans.  You saved yourself.  And now you have a lot more adventure to look forward to than you ever dared to hope you could have.