Work Text:
Station Announcements:
Monday: movie night! All requests can be given to Commander Minkowski and then promptly ignored as we only have a VHS tape of Home Alone 2.
Tuesday: we did have a chess tournament planned, but since everyone is tired of losing to Doctor Hilbert, we’re just going to assume he won again this week. The tournament will resume next week.
Wednesday: restocking day in the cafeteria. Please report to the caf at 1100 hours to help unpack the boxes and restock the machines. And please, Doctor Hilbert, make sure you have thoroughly cleaned up any chemicals you may have been using before you report to the caf. We don’t want a repeat of last restocking day, do we, boys?
Thursday: routine maintenance check and de-bugging cycle for our station AI. All of Hera’s operations will be offline for a minimum of an hour and a half. Emergency help will be unavailable between 2300 and 0200 hours. Eiffel…don’t do anything stupid, okay?
Friday: mandatory crew meeting on the observation deck at 1900 hours. All duties and work shifts will be excused for the evening. Again, this is a mandatory meeting.
--
Minkowski leaned back in her chair, reading through the announcements one last time before sending them off to her crew. With just the three of them and Hera onboard, she probably didn’t need to send out a weekly bulletin. But it seemed more professional than doing announcements over breakfast, Eiffel still too groggy to absorb information and Hilbert staying only long enough to grab a protein bar before heading back to his lab.
Which was actually one of the reasons for this mandatory meeting. Friday was Valentine’s day—a perfect opportunity for crew bonding and a much-needed morale boost. Lord knows they needed a day off. They’d been on this ship for more than two hundred days with absolutely nothing to show for it. Eiffel had had no luck with his scans of deep space and Hilbert gave the bare minimum of information in his progress reports. She wasn’t actually one-hundred percent sure what he was studying, and at this point, didn’t really want to ask. It seemed to involve a whole lot of toxic chemicals, though.
In any case, an afternoon of conversation, unhealthy snacks, and bonding games was just what her crew needed to keep them working hard and relatively sane.
Speaking of…
She pushed herself across the room, grabbing her personal laptop from where it was aimlessly floating by her bunk. This laptop wasn’t connected to Hera’s intel feed, so anything she did on it would be private. She flipped open the laptop and clicked over to her personal email. She began to type the letter she’d been composing in her head for the past week.
“Hey, love, it’s me. I know it’s been a while since I last wrote you. It’s been crazy around here; there’s always something that needs fixing on this big old ship. Since command only allows me so many bytes of personal stuff per info dump, I’ll have to keep this short. Anyway, how are you holding up? You’re not too lonely without me, I hope. I better not come home to find you surrounded by adopted puppies. We’ve talked about this honey, we just don’t have the room for a pet.
I know you must be lonely—God knows I am. It’s colder than I thought it would be up here, and too quiet. It’s hard to sleep without you snoring at my side. And the food is shit. Nothing like yours. I miss you. I miss you so much.
The timing’s going to be a little bit off when you get this, but it’s just about Valentine’s Day up here. I’ll be thinking about you the whole time. I think about you all the time, regardless. I can’t wait until I can see you in person again. I love you.”
Writing to her husband was a privilege. The other crew members weren’t allowed to waste precious data bytes on personal emails. But as the CO, she was allowed one short personal email a month. She had always been lousy at writing letters—all the love letters in their relationship had been from him to her—but it was really their only line of communication right now. So she tried her best.
She sent the email off with a short sigh. The next info cache scheduled for earth was next month. His response would take at least another month, and that was thinking optimistically. She hadn’t thought it would be this hard without him. She hadn’t thought she would miss him this much, like a constant ache, like a phantom pain. Before she could slide much further into her pit of despair, the comms system buzzed to life.
“Uh, Commander? We have a…situation, here?”
Minkowski gave an exasperated shake of her head. At least they kept her busy.
“What did you do this time, Eiffel?”
“It wasn’t me, Commander, I swear!”
--
Hilbert gave the announcements a cursory once-over. No one really expected him to show up for movie night anyway. Canceled chess night was a disappointment but it wasn’t like they could have put up much of a fight anyway. Restocking day…he could fake a minor explosion in his lab to avoid that unpleasant chore. Debugging cycle—perfect timing for him to check on side projects without Hera knowing. (Of course it was perfect timing; he’d been the one to plan it). The mandatory meeting on Friday, however. He had no idea what that was about. It was possible that Goddard had sent in new instructions. He made a note of it on his calendar.
--
Doug scrolled through the announcements, yawning. At the tail end of an eight hour shift in which he did nothing but listen to static, he had to work to keep his eyes open. He read through the brief bulletin three times before the information sunk in.
Mandatory meeting.
The phrase ran through his head, accompanied by unpleasant memories of the last mandatory meeting. He knew Minkowski was a stickler for rules, but come on. Talent shows hadn’t been cool since grade school. The talent show had been just a few months ago, and unless the folks at command were truly evil, they wouldn’t schedule another one so soon. So what else could it be? He chewed on a pen cap, trying to remember if there was anything important happening on Friday.
“Hera, are you there?”
“Always am.”
“Cool. What’s today’s date?”
“Today is Monday, February 10, 2014.”
He did some quick finger counting.
“Hey, that means that this Friday is the 14th!”
“Uh,” said Hera, unsure as to why the communication’s officer was now zero-gravity dancing around the comms room. “Yes, it is. And that is exciting because…?”
He didn’t answer her, too busy celebrating.
There were lots of holidays that Doug hated. He hated Christmas because it always overshadowed is birthday. He hated Thanksgiving because he was socially obligated to spend it with his family, which…he wasn’t even gonna think about right now. He hated Saint Patrick’s Day, just on principle. But Valentine’s day was one that he could get behind. Even on years when he didn’t have a girlfriend or a boyfriend, it was still one of his favorites, rivaled only by Halloween. Who doesn’t like a day dedicated to eating chocolate, drinking wine, and getting laid?
Not that there would be any chocolate, wine, or getting-laid happening in space.
Damn.
--
The party supplies on the Hephaestus were pretty dismal. For all of the useless junk Goddard crammed in their creaking top of a ship, very little of it was meant for a party. God forbid they have fun up here. Minkowski lifted the edge of a generic banner (plain white, black letters, emblazoned with the word ‘celebration’) and sighed. She’d have to get creative.
--
By Thursday morning, Hilbert had figured out that Friday’s meeting was a Valentine’s day party. He abandoned his usual projects and spent the rest of day synthesizing a batch of artificial alcohol. Maybe not the best use of science, but he’d need it to get through the day. He poured the contraband whiskey(ish) concoction in his flask with all the grim focus of a soldier heading off to war.
--
Doug burst out laughing the second he entered the observation deck.
“You’ve outdone yourself this time, Minkowski,” he said, gesturing to the room in general. The banner had been dyed a light pink by running it through a load of red jumpsuits and the walls were festooned with paper chains made out of old messages from command. She’d baked a batch of sugar cookies, using up a week’s worth of her sugar ration. (It would be worth it, she told herself, forcing down a cup of “coffee” that morning sans sweetener).
She bristled at his tone. “I didn’t have a lot to work with, Eiffel,” she said shortly. Eiffel shook his head, still laughing.
“No, Commander, it looks great! No, really!”
He held up his hands in surrender at her suspicious glare. “I would have helped if you asked me to.”
“Oh. Well. I’ll…remember that.”
Eiffel smiled and floated further into the room. “Cookies! I haven’t had cookies since before launch!”
He dove for the container and came up with a cookie in each hand and one in his mouth.
“Eiffel,” Minkowski started, but he waved her off.
“Limited supplies, I know,” he mumbled through a mouthful of cookie. “Just spreading the love.”
He passed one off to her and sent another floating to Hilbert, who had tried to sneak in without being seen.
“Hey, Doc, good to see you!”
Hilbert nodded noncommittally, ignoring the cookie drifting past his head. He positioned himself in the corner, his face set. Eiffel, not deterred, launched the abandoned cookie towards him again.
“Join the party, doc!”
Hilbert warily grabbed the cookie. He nibbled at it until Eiffel nodded happily. As soon as his back was turned, Hilbert broke out his flask and took a bracing swig.
Minkowski had brought along a deck of cards. Doug only knew how to play Go Fish, and she only played 500 and Bridge. Hilbert didn’t want to play.
“This is idiotic,” he muttered. He didn’t want to play their bonding games. Didn’t want to bond with them at all. That never turned out well.
Eiffel’s eyes lit up with a sudden revelation. “Idiot!”
“What?” Minkowski said.
“There’s this card game I used to play with my par—on earth. It’s called Idiot, and I’m fifty-seven percent sure I remember how to play.”
He set out explaining the unnecessarily complicated rules. Halfway through, Hera interrupted him.
“Officer Eiffel is actually about forty-eight percent correct. I have the real rules in my databanks.”
“Um…why?” Eiffel asked.
“I don’t know, I just do! I want to play, though.”
She explained the (correct) rules. Eiffel volunteered to play both his and Hera’s hands.
Two hours and three hands later – won by Hera, Hera, and Doug following Hera’s advice— Hilbert snuck out his flask again.
“Hilbert,” Minkowski said quietly under Eiffel and Hera’s celebration. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Don’t know what you are talking about, Commander. Am drinking water.”
She snorted. “Water and some other things, I bet. I’ll let it slide for today…provided that you share.”
He paused. “Fine.”
The liquor was stronger than he’d planned and he’d had quite enough anyway.
Minkowski took a long draw, swallowing with a shudder.
“Wow. That is….really strong.”
“What’s strong?” Eiffel asked. He eyed the flask for a second before excitement broke over his face. “Oh my god, let me have some!”
Reluctantly, Minkowski handed off the flask. “Be careful, it’s a little—”
“Commander, do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been drunk? Just….let me enjoy this.”
--
An hour later, the flask was empty and all three human members of the Hephaestus were just more than pleasantly tipsy. They’d abandoned the card game pretty quickly after the flask got passed around. Now they were floating in a loose circle. Eiffel spun himself around lazily, giggling at nothing in particular. Minkowski was just about to nod off, warm and comfortable. Hilbert scribbled down formulas that sounded scientific right now but that wouldn’t make sense in the morning.
“Hey,” Doug said suddenly. “I have an idea. Let’s play a game.”
“Not more Idiot,” Minkowski said. She was only slightly bitter that she hadn’t won a single game.
“No more,” Doug agreed. “It’s Valentine’s day. Let’s play a Valentine’s game!”
“Like what?”
“Like…..Aha!”
Doug snatched the empty flask and held it up triumphantly. “Spin the bottle! Flask. Thing. Whatever.”
And maybe Minkowski had really had too much to drink, because she just shrugged. “Why not?”
Doug cheered. Minkowski pointed at Hilbert. “Gonna play, Doc?”
It was a bad idea. This whole party was too intimate, too dangerous. He needed to keep a clear head. He needed to keep his distance from this crew. He hadn’t been careful enough with the previous crew. Personal relationships just made his job harder. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. He wouldn’t….
“Will play,” he said, too drunk to listen to the rational part of his brain.
“I hope you all know that I’m going to record this whole thing and use it as blackmail later,” said Hera’s amused voice from the speakers.
“Hera!” Doug exclaimed. “You’re playing, right, babe?”
“I don’t have a physical form,” she reminded him.
He waved a lofty hand. “Details. Play!”
“O-okay,” she said, a small laugh glitching the word.
They gathered in a slightly tighter circle, leaving a gap that would signify Hera next to Doug. Doug offered the empty flask to Minkowski.
“Want to do the honors, Commander?”
She took it cautiously. She hadn’t played spin the bottle since her college days and definitely not since she got married. Would he mind? Probably not. He knew she loved him with everything she had. But still…
Doug must have noticed her hesitation, because he said quietly, “It doesn’t have to be on the mouth.”
She nodded, reassured, and spun the flask. It rotated around slowly, landing on Doug.
He crinkled his nose. “Ew, kissing the commander!” he teased, floating over to her. She rolled her eyes and gave him a quick peck on the lips and a sincere hug as an apology. He winked at her and took the flask.
The lazy spin eventually landed on Hilbert. Doug grinned.
“Get ready, Doc, I’m doing this for real.”
Doug wrapped his arms around the scientist, planting a smacking kiss on his lips, which Hilbert instinctively reciprocated. Egged on by the unexpected enthusiasm, Doug kissed him again. When he pulled away his face was red but happy. He rubbed a hand across his mouth.
“You’re pretty good at this, Doc,” he said. “Your beard tickles like hell, though.”
Hilbert coughed, embarrassed, and spun the flask. Minkowski. He kissed her more gently and less deeply than he’d kissed Doug. He knew she had a husband at home, a fact she hadn’t shared with the others and one he felt no need to tell. He wasn’t supposed to know that, anyway.
Minkowski’s spin landed on Doug again.
“You trying to tell me something?” Doug teased, letting her kiss the corner of his mouth and giving her another hug.
“Don’t get any ideas, Eiffel,” she warned.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
His spin settled to a stop on the empty space next to him. Doug whooped. “Hera! Score! Wait… how are we gonna…?”
He bit his lip, thinking . “Oh! Hera, where is your camera in this room?”
“Top left c-c-corner.”
“Prepare yourself, babe. Here I come!”
He used a combination of climbing, zero-gravity jumps, and human-pinballing to get himself to the ceiling. He maneuvered to the oblong camera. It swiveled to follow his approach. He had to leave the safety of the wall to reach it, so he wrapped his arms and legs around it securely.
“Can you feel me hugging you?” he asked quietly.
The camera moved side to side, the closest approximation of a head shake as she could produce.
He sighed. “Damn. I wanted you to.”
“Me too,” she said.
Her voice rang out loudly, as it always did. Minkowski immediately engaged Hilbert in a conversation, to give them some semblance of privacy.
“Okay. Here I go.”
Doug leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against the shiny reflective surface of the camera. Kissing Minkowski had been awkward but fun. Kissing Hilbert had been surprisingly good and a little bit exciting. Kissing Hera…it made something painful and hollow bubble up in his chest. He wanted her to be able feel it. He wanted her to be able to reciprocate it.
He hugged the camera tighter, then let go. His lips left a large smudge on the glass. He swallowed, hard.
“Sorry,” he said, reaching up to wipe it away.
“No!” Hera exclaimed. He stopped.
“I w-want you to le-e-eave it,” she said, as quietly as she could. Doug nodded, blinking back what felt like the beginning of tears. Maybe he was more drunk than he’d originally thought.
“Thanks.” Hera said.
“For what?”
“For including me. A lot of people wouldn’t bother to even ask the AI.”
“Of course. You’re part of the crew, and my friend besides.”
“And thank you for kissing me. I’ve never been kissed before.”
Doug rubbed the back of his neck, blushing. “Did you like it?”
“I did.”
Doug floated back to the ground, deep in thought. Hilbert gestured silently at Minkowski. She had nodded off while Doug had been talking to Hera. Doug chuckled over the commander’s quiet snoring, grabbing the belt of her jumpsuit to use as a tow line.
“I’ll take her back to her room,” he whispered. Hilbert nodded. As he was leaving, Doug said, “Hilbert. This was….this was fun. Thanks for the booze. And the....It was nice.”
Hilbert tightened his lips, unsure of how to answer. Eventually, he said, “Happy Valentine’s day, Officer Eiffel.”
“Happy Valentine’s!” Minkowski mumbled, still half asleep.
Doug laughed.
“Happy Valentine’s day, everyone.”