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“Twilight—”
“I'm not sick.” Twilight hooks his hands around the cargo box and lifts. It's heavy, but perfectly manageable. It feels good to work, to get tired.
Time looks up from his datapad, eyes unreadable. “That isn't what I was going to say, but now that you mention it, you do sound a little…”
“Just a stuffy nose,” Twilight says. He drops the cargo box on the appropriate stack and pulls out some ratchet straps to secure it.
“Have you talked to Hyrule about it?” Time watches Twilight go get the next box from the shipment they'd loaded onto the Epona at the last stop earlier today.
“I don't need to bother him. It'll go away soon.”
“Twilight—”
Twilight turns to look at Time, panting through his mouth at the exertion. He can feel sweat shine on his forehead. “What do you need?”
Time tucks away his datapad. “You to go to the medbay.”
“That isn't what you came down here for,” Twilight accuses, hands on his hips. He's fine. He isn't incapable of work, and he doesn't need to be fussed over.
“Do I need to pull out a captain's orders?” Time asks.
“It isn't a big deal! It's a stuffy nose!” Twilight gestures, frustrated. Time just raises his eyebrows, and Twilight meets his glare with one of his own.
Time isn't going to back down, is he? He's too stubborn, and while Twilight knows he can be just as bad… he does have a headache. He can't keep this up longer than Time, today.
So he throws his hands in the air and goes to secure the loose shipment so he can come back to it later. “Fine. A quick stop. Hyrule is going to say that it isn't a big deal and that we're wasting his time.”
“No, he isn't.” Time waits for Twilight to finish up, then signs out on the screen by the door and closes the cargo hold behind them. The lights shut, and the door seals with a hiss.
A short run of steep stairs winds up to access the rest of the ship, next to a small lift for boxes, and Twilight finds himself working a little too hard to climb them. He's a bit tired from moving all those boxes around just now, and from loading them into the ship to begin with. He uses the handrails to pull himself up more than he uses the steps, and at the top, he pants, feeling unusually cold.
Time eyes him as he climbs the last step. “You definitely need to get checked out.”
“I'm fine,” Twilight protests, though with less certainty than before. Those are definitely dark spots swimming in front of his eyes—
Bwaaa! Bwaaa! Bwaaa!
An alarm blares throughout the ship, and the alarm lights in the corners flash red for attention. Twilight startles, and those black spots go away. Good. Maybe he's a little sick, but he isn't that sick.
Time pulls out his datapad. He glances at Twilight, which Twilight can only tell because he's had practice reading Time’s expressions, and doesn't say what the alarm is. “I need to go to the bridge. You”—he points to Twilight—“go to the medbay, and wait there.”
The ship jolts, and Twilight grabs at a ridge on the wall to stay upright. He recognizes that feeling. Someone's shooting at them.
Twilight sets his jaw and glares at Time. “I'm heading to the bridge, too. I promise to go see Hyrule afterwards.”
“Fine,” Time says, voice sharp. “If you think you're fit to help, then who am I to argue?” He pushes past Twilight, who winces at the implied anger, and navigates through the ship up to the bridge.
Almost everyone is up there already, Warriors standing in the middle of the storm to direct them. He turns at Time’s entrance and cedes command. “Three ships, unknown origin. They won't respond to our signals. One just shot at us, their weapons appear to be active.”
Time takes his chair in the center. “Shields?”
“Seventy-five,” Wild says. “Probably sufficient.”
“Go to ninety, I don't want probably. Legend?”
Legend rolls his eyes and turns around. “No response, I've used every broadcasting technique I know. Either they really aren't from around here, or they're ignoring our message of we aren't a threat.”
Twilight takes his own chair behind Time, focusing on breathing steadily so nobody notices that he's feeling off. This, however, this he can do in his sleep. He runs a hand across his screens to wake them up, and quickly gets to work warming up the Epona's weapons.
“Sky, Wind,” Time says. “Crawl us away, carefully.”
“Yes, sir,” Sky responds.
“Four, prime the Depths drive, just in case.”
“That'll take some significant power from the shields and weapons,” says Four’s voice over the speaker. “And they'll notice us warping off. The Depths drive isn't exactly subtle.”
Time pauses, even as the ships outside the thick windows turn to face them. “I'd rather us run and be safe than stay to fight and incur damage. We don't know who this is and what they can do. How fast can the drive be ready?”
“Give me fifty seconds.”
“Twilight, low-power warning shot. Wild, shields up as high as they can go with the power drain.”
Twilight and Wild chorus a yes, sir back, and the lights in the bridge dim. The whole ship vibrates slightly as the greenish shield turns on, encasing them in a protective barrier. It isn't as strong as Twilight has seen it in the past, but hopefully it'll be enough.
Meanwhile, Twilight switches to tactile controls. The screen on the desk in front of him rises to form buttons, dials, and toggles, things he can use and find without looking thanks to a lot of practice. This is a relatively recent innovation in technology, but Twilight loves it. He much prefers the clicks and grinds and texture, and just the whole feel of a physical control center. He never liked the flat, slippery screens.
Twilight swallows back a wave of nausea—where did that come from?—and follows Time's direction. He aims their smallest onboard weapon past two of the approaching ships and fires a single, thin shot of bright yellow plasma. It streaks through the black space, avoiding both ships, then dissipates.
“They aren't backing off,” Warriors says in warning. “Those guns will fire any second.”
“I know.” Time settles deeper into his chair and pulls the belts across his chest. “Twilight, fire at will.”
Twilight moves his hand a little too far and misses the control. He flattens his lips and deliberately sets his fingers down on the right buttons. He looks up at the displays on the walls, which show a variety of views around the ship, but they must be staticky or something. They won't focus.
Oh. Wait. That’s his eyes.
Fighting past the way the ship is tilting beneath him, Twilight aims as best he can, then fires several shots meant to disable but not destroy.
Only one of them hits.
He's swimming, now. The air is thick and shimmering with rainbow colors. Someone says his name, but he can barely recognize the syllables by the time they get to his ears, warped and confusing.
If he's this out of it, he shouldn’t be anywhere near the weapons. It wasn't this bad thirty seconds ago! Twilight struggles to make his hands obey him, pulling them through syrup that doesn't resist as much as he thinks they should.
Someone touches him, handling him. He isn't sure where he's positioned right now.
“Sss’rry,” he slurs, confused and worried. He needs to help. There are voices around him, sounds, feelings, presences.
And then everything gets much, much worse: bright with light that doesn't exist, loud with quiet sounds that batter his eardrums, pressing in around him like the down in a real pillow.
---
(Later, Twilight will try to remember that moment and think he recalls an out-of-body experience. He doesn't have anything else to say about it.)
---
When Twilight wakes up, he doesn't feel very good. His head aches, one of his elbows throbs with his heartbeat, and his throat is dry. He also can't breathe through his nose, but that's just more annoying than it is concerning.
He remembers danger and urgency, which seize his heart again as if they never left. He sucks in a breath and gets his hands under him as if to sit up.
“It's okay,” someone says. A hand on his shoulder keeps him from pushing himself up. “You're okay. Stay still for a moment.”
Twilight’s eyes open hesitantly, his face screwed up, but the room is pleasantly dim. It's his own room, and this is his own bed. It smells like his soap.
Time sits next to him, and it's Time who's keeping him down. “Are you awake?”
“Ugh,” Twilight says, his voice scratching. “I think so.”
“That's a good sign.” Hyrule is there too, behind Time, holding Twilight's wrist, which stings a little. Hyrule gives Twilight his hand back and tucks a syringe away. “You sort of collapsed out of nowhere.”
“Don't scare him,” Time sighs.
Hyrule smiles.
Too late. Twilight frowns. “I what? I remember… there was a fight, wasn't there? Is everyone okay?”
Time nods. “Nobody was hurt. Wild realized that something was wrong and directed all the weapons’ power to the shields, which absorbed a few hits before the Depths drive kicked in.”
Twilight rubs at his poked wrist and settles back down into his bed to stare at the ceiling. “That's good. I guess.”
“How do you feel?” Hyrule asks, shuffling around Time in the small room to reach Twilight’s forehead.
“Uh… tired. Headache. Some bruises. Stuffy.”
Hyrule’s hand is cool, which tells Twilight all he needs to know. “I think this is a certain strain of a virus that's been going around. Good news, it shouldn't last long or be very contagious. Bad news, it hits hard and fast, so you might get dizzy again without much warning.”
Twilight lifts his lip in a fanged sneer. “I thought it was just a cold.”
“Even if it was, I could've helped, silly,” Hyrule says. He pokes Twilight’s face and moves back toward the door, sliding past Time. “Three days in here, or somewhere you can sit down if you need to.”
“Ugh,” Twilight groans. But Hyrule isn't what he's mad at, so he peeks over and gives the best smile he can. It's more of a grimace. “Thanks.”
Hyrule returns the smile. “Anytime. That's literally what I'm here for. Leaving—cover your eyes.”
Twilight heeds the warning and lifts one heavy arm to drape over his eyes. The room lightens for a moment as Hyrule slips out, but Twilight leaves his arm there.
“Don't try to get back on duty,” Time warns.
“You heard him,” Twilight protests, his voice slipping into the low, gravely, tired tones. “I’m fine except when I get dizzy.”
“Unexpectedly. I don't want you hurting yourself.”
“We have an unknown, new enemy, and you want me to just sit back?” Twilight finally pulls his arm away to glare halfheartedly at Time. “I can help.”
“At the risk of hitting your head if you're up too much?” Time shakes his head. “Sorry, Twilight.”
“But—”
“Think of the example you're setting,” Time interrupts. “Wild looks up to you, and so do the others. Even Legend. If they see you pushing yourself while sick, they're going to want to do it, too.”
That's a really good argument. Twilight presses his lips together and looks to his other side, out the shielded window at the soup of stars there. “Hyrule already does it.”
“Hyrule is Hyrule.”
Twilight rolls his eyes and regrets it. He heaves a breath. “Well, got any good book recommendations, then?”
“Malon might,” Time says, finally cracking a bit of a smile. “I'll ask. And I'm sure Warriors would let you borrow something.”
“I'm not asking him for one of those.”
“He'd be happy to lend you one of those—”
“Shut up.”
“Or maybe you can just look at the covers.”
“You're just asking me to bite you.”
“They're nice covers.”
“Okay—”