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“You are still doing it wrong,” a deadpan voice mutters over my shoulder, I can practically feel the frustration radiating off of the man behind me, betraying that flat tone, “I have devised a strategy to avoid total failure, allow me to take the controls.”
“I know what I’m doing, Tech, relax.” My grip tightens around the controls almost posessively, hoping he didn’t pick up on the fact that any confidence in my voice is bogus. I know I’m flying blind, that's the point, but I’m not telling him that. I take a deep breath and plot my next move.
“I would strongly advise against that.” He’s leaned forward in his chair, his voice much closer than before, and his fingertips brush against my shoulder as he grips the back of my seat.
“Would you.”
“Yes, I would. Though, I know you do not plan on heeding my advice, please know my strategy would be much more effective.”
“Would it.” I don’t crack, no, I keep my cool as I finally align the shot and take a deep breath before hitting the button. Bombs away.
The tension in the cockpit is astronomically, laughably high. If this were a holofilm the scene before me would be playing out in slow motion as Tech and I lean forward dramatically to watch the little cartoon jellyfruit fall from the top of my holopad screen to the jumbled pile of fruits below. It’d then cut to the horror on my face slowly transforming into triumphant delight, and Tech’s into shocked defeat, as it comes in contact with another jellyfruit, metamorphosing into a shuura and setting off a chain reaction. Fruits combine, growing larger as they bounce around the screen before settling at the bottom in a small pile. What once was a jumbled mess of fruits has become a single lamta, two meilooruns, and a handful of jogans.
I turn to Tech with a smug grin, “You were saying?”
After a moment, he finally pries his gaze from the screen in my hands to meet my eyes. It’s a rare occasion, proving Tech wrong, so I may as well savor it. I don’t get long, though, as the corners of his lips start to curve into the beginning of a smile, “That should not have worked.”
“But it did!” I nearly shout in glee, laughing quietly in hopes I didn’t just wake the rest of the squad, fast asleep in the racks behind us as we drift through hyperspace. “C’mon, you have to admit that was impressive. I’m only one away from getting the shi-shok and I beat your high score!”
“Your current score is quite the accomplishment. Though, I must admit, it would have been much more impressive had you planned it, dear,” he chides, leaning back into his seat.
“I mean, technically I did,” I shrug, returning my attention to the screen to line up the hovering jogan with the pile below. “Like, it’s the objective of the game. It’s all intentional by default, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I suppose it is,” Tech chuckles behind me. He shifts forward once again when a dricklefruit appears at the top of my screen with another just behind it, “Place those on top of the meiloorun on the left.”
“Stop backseat gaming, I need it by the kavasa.” I shift the fruit to the right side of the screen.
“The transformation will disrupt the top layer, sending the smaller fruits to the bottom,” I want to disagree with him, but the longer I linger over the drop button the more sound his assessment seems, “Strategy, dear.”
I shoot him a look over my shoulder, I should’ve expected the knowing grin I’m met with. Taking his advice, I move the tiny fruit back to the left side of the screen and let it fall before dropping the next on top of it. The two fuse into a jellyfruit, and a jellyfruit appears at the top of the screen. “You didn’t know that was gonna happen.”
“It was highly probable,” he counters, readjusting his goggles with a confident smirk.
“Nah, I don’t buy it, no way,” I laugh as I drop the fruit, watching as they turn into a shuura with an animated poof, the force of it sending the matching fruit on the right straight to it. The fruits settle into a perfect opening for my next two moves, turning the meiloorun below into a second lamta, then, the final fruit, the highest possible combination in the game: the shi-shok. It’s the closest I’ve ever gotten, I’m well past my previous high score and I should feel victorious, but I can’t seem to bring myself to, “It feels wrong.”
“What do you mean?” I don’t turn to look at him but I hear the confusion in his voice.
“I didn’t catch that, it doesn’t feel like my win.” I bite the inside of my lip in thought, tapping my fingers on the side of the datapad.
“I did not mean to steal your victory, so to speak.” He leans forward once again, thoughtfully this time; his hand returning to the back of my seat, his fingertips ghosting over my shoulder. “This is entirely ‘your win’.”
I meet his eyes and find nothing but sincerity. I nod just once before turning back to the screen and dropping the fruit. Who knew watching cartoon fruits turning into slightly larger cartoon fruits could feel so cathartic. When my gaze returns to Tech, after the lamtas become a massive shi-shok and the fruits begin to settle, I can only smile.
His hand now fully rests on my shoulder and his smile drops to something just a bit more serious, “You now hold the highest score in the game. I will change that.”
Though I pick up on the humor in his voice, as much as he tried suppressing it, I play along and clutch the datapad to my chest, “Never.” Our little act only lasts a few seconds before we’re both trying to keep the volume of our laughter to a minimum.