Work Text:
The cafe was small, tucked in between a laundry shop and clothing store that seemed to sell exclusively plastic. It was a small drop of colour in the city block, painted blue, white and green. The sign over it’s door declared its name to be “Earth’s Coffee”.
As far as 621 remembered, Earth was importing over ninety percent of its resources from the other planets, but she wasn’t going to question it. It’s not like she cared much for the taste, and it would get drowned out by the sugar and milk anyway.
621 drove her hovering chair over the curb and headed for the door. She didn’t like the city. It was loud, strange and unpredictable. She much preferred the muted silence of her AC, the familiarity of the hangar and the messy patterns of battle.
But, after an offhand comment about how bad the hangar coffee was, Ayre had wondered what good coffee looked like and suggested going to a cafe. 621 suspected it was a ruse to get her out of the hangar, but decided to play along. She hadn’t actually seen the city with her own eyes yet. Sure, she had gone through it while piloting, but it’s generally hard to notice locations when you are getting battered by gunfire and dodging missiles.
The roads were much bigger than she expected. Everything looked so small from the AC.
“Morning,” a waiter welcomed her as she moved through the door.
The cafe was empty, apart from a couple people working on their laptops. The lights were dim, the room gathering most of its light from the sun reflecting on silver-grey buildings at the other side of the street. Soft instrumental music played from the speakers, adding to the sleepy atmosphere.
621 pointed at the screen next to her shoulder and thought of the words she wanted.
“Morning.” Green letters quickly appeared in the dark screen. “May I have a latte? Sweet?”
“Sure,” he turned to a bored barista, who was reading something on a tablet behind the counter. “Got that?”
“No, what?” They didn’t even look up.
“Latte. Sweet. Chop chop,” the waiter slapped his hands, faking annoyance.
621 moved passed him, amused. Finding a window seat was easy, and the waiter swiftly appeared next to her to make space for her chair. The view wasn’t the most appealing, as the road and buildings were all the same shade of silver-grey, but the few people walking were a nice distraction.
“I want to see how they make it,” Ayre said, her voice only forming in 621’s mind. “Do you think they’ll mind if I go there?”
I don’t think so, she thought back. They can’t see you either way.
Parts of the red halo around her broke off, now hovering over the barista. 621 looked at the red particles swimming in the air, always mesmerised by their movement. She had been living with Ayre for just over two years now, but she had never stopped being amazed at the Coral’s movement.
“They’re putting in more milk than what the instructions say,” Ayre noted.
Everyone makes it a bit different.
“…”
What, Ayre?
“Will it be better than the hangar’s if they make it wrong?”
I’m sure it will, 621 said. Why are you fussed about it?
“It’s your first time out,” Ayre said as the Coral hovering above the barista returned to her. “I want it to go well.”
It’s going great, 621 reassured her. The different perspective is nice, I had forgotten how big street lights actually are.
“Here’s your latte,” the waiter cut in, placing a steaming cup in front of 621. A coffee bean was drawn on the foam. “And these are on the house,” he added, placing a small plate with cookies on the table.
“Thank you,” said 621 through the screen. Then, not finding a more subtle approach, added. “Why?”
“We figured you’re with Liberation Front, ma’am,” he pointed at the white insignia at the side of her chair. “This is a Rubiconian owned store, we want to give something extra to our pilots.”
621 just smiled and choose not to mention she was the Wallclimber, or the many other missions she had taken against the Liberation Front. Granted, she had no allegiances back then, and the corporations almost always payed more than the rebels. Now, she was getting her missions almost exclusively from the Liberation Front, but her old actions stinged, if only a little bit.
But thinking of the past wasn’t a good idea. When she did, her mind often wandered to Carla, Chatty and Walter. If only they had given the Coral a chance. Maybe they could all be sitting here right now. It sure would be easier to keep the returning corporations at bay if she had their support. But they had made their choices, she had made hers and she was the one sitting at the table.
She took a sip of the coffee, pushing away the old thoughts. It was still very hot, but the sweetness reached through the heat.
“How is it?” Ayre asked.
Better than the hangar’s, 621 answered. And with the cookies… She took a big bite. It’s the best.
“I’m glad,” Ayre said. After a long pause, she added. “Then maybe we should do this again, invite Ziyi and Arshile..?”
Are you trying to make me friends, Ayre? 621 asked, attacking a second cookie.
“Would that be so bad?”
We’re on the field every other day. If Rusty couldn’t make it, I don’t want to get attached to others, weaker than him.
“Hmm. Why?”
You know that before we met, the surgery had made me numb, 621 began. Somehow, contact with you reversed that. And you know how I felt about killing the Overseers. How I still feel, she took a sip to swallow the lump in her throat. I’m glad I can feel again, but it’s both a blessing and a curse. In our work especially. I don’t want to feel like I did with Rusty and the Overseers again.
Ayre hovered in front of 621, taking all of her attention.
“… If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have stopped the Overseers. And you wouldn’t have stayed here.”
I wouldn’t have, 621 agreed.
“Then I believe it’s a blessing,” Ayre said gently. The Coral swirled slowly in front of 621, then softly splashed around her face. “And I hope that, in time, you’ll believe that too.”
621 sneezed and grabbed a third cookie, quietly.
It’s not that I don’t believe that, she said after a while. But I knew Rusty only for a couple of months. If his loss hurt as it did, how would I feel if Dunham died? Or Ziyi?
“Rusty is still alive.”
In a coma, 621 countered. I think… I think I don’t want to care for the others. I’m trying not to care.
“And you are failing,” Ayre observed.
…
“Just invite them. Or have dinner with them at the hangar.”
Ayre…
“You’re already attached to them,” Ayre ignored her. “Enjoy their company, for as long as it’s there.”
I’m not attached to them, 621 drank the last drop of the coffee with force, as if the liquid could drown the red voice of reason in her head.
“You teared up when Ziyi got her new AC,” Ayre continued, unrelenting. “And you were failing, very badly might I add, to hide your smile when Flatwell promoted Dunham to captain.”
Come on…
“And you know that I can hear your sighs of relief when Flatwell returns from his solo missions. And about that time when the PCA attacked the communications headquarters? You tried to fly and get Arshile from the other side of the planet, even though Ziyi and Dunham were on it.”
Fine! Point well made, 621 fell back in her chair, defeated. I’ll talk to them more.
“Thank you,” a small wave of Coral fell on 621’s shoulder. “I’ll send Ziyi and Arshile a message, I believe they take their dinner the same time as you.”
621 sighed and tossed the last cookie in her mouth before calling for the bill. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk more with the other pilots, she just didn’t like the idea of loosing more people she cared about.
She transferred the COAM, thanked the waiter and moved out to the loudness of the city. She hadn’t payed much attention to it, but the cafe was doing a great job of muting the city sounds. Doing her best to ignore them, she moved off the sidewalk and onto the road. There, she raised the speed of her chair and moved fast towards the hangar in the distance.
“Raven,” Ayre called her as they approached the hangar. “We have a message from Arshile.”
621 just pushed the chair to move faster. Communications from Arshile were always about a job. She’d need her AC.
“I think you should stop to hear this,” Ayre said. “Please.”
621 slowed to a stop and moved the chair on the sidewalk, curious.
Ayre took a long pause, and she could feel the Coral around her vibrate with excitement.
“It’s Rusty. He woke up.”