*Wyl*

It was amazing, Wyl thought to himself as he lay on his back on his small cot, how extremely well some people's voices carried. Admittedly, his hearing had been more sensitive ever since his last...incident, but still, there were two halls and three walls worth of space between him and her. How could one classify a voice that penetrated into the slight sanctity of his living quarters so expertly? Dulcet? Melodic? Operatic?

A particularly nasty high note reached his ears, and he winced. Try strident. Harpyish. Clamorous. Discordant. Any synonym for fucking annoying would do. He put his pillow over his head and pressed down hard, wishing not for the first time that he could press down hard enough to make himself pass out. Today was his day of rest, his first one since he'd been punished over three weeks ago, and she was ruining that too. His stomach growled noisily. Maybe he could sneak into the kitchen without her noticing.

Wyl got up, got dressed and moved quietly down the hall. There were a few other workers milling about, but no one wanted to face Danica when she was in a mood. He wouldn't have gone himself if he wasn't so incredibly hungry. The closer he got, the greater the sound, until he finally put his hands over his ears. Wyl got to the door to the mess hall and glanced in carefully.

There she was, in all her dubious glory, stalking back and forth in front of Mike, the operations manager, screaming her bloody head off. She was a woman of medium height, curvy and dressed to accentuate it in a tight red cat suit trimmed with rich brown fur, wearing dark brown leather boots that came to her mid-calf. Her hair was long and copper-colored, and flowed like a molten wave down her back. If he had seen her face, he would have seen small, perfect features and a cherry red mouth contorted with rage. He was just as glad to miss it.

At least her attention was focused elsewhere. Thinking small, quiet thoughts, Wyl slunk across the floor and into the kitchen before either of the sole inhabitants of the mess noticed him.

Taylor was in the kitchen, and he looked wrung out. "It's enough to make me want to blow out my eardrums." He glanced at Wyl. "Even worse for you, huh." Wyl nodded, not removing his hands from his ears. The room was large, and it echoed. "Here." He gave Wyl a plate of scrambled something with cheese and tomatoes. "It’s reconstituted tofu," he said when Wyl raised an eyebrow. "And don't gag at me, it's good for you. You won't even taste the healthiness under the spices." He shoved Wyl gently towards a tall stool standing by the counter. "Eat in here, then run for it."

Wyl sat down and shoveled the food into his mouth, not wanting to remove his hands from his ears but unable to help it. It was amazing, how much more they picked up now. He hardly even noticed it when people were speaking normally, but when things got loud...well, he wished he'd brought his earplugs. He never worked without them these days. He ate as fast as he could, and listened without wanting to to Danica's conversation.

"We're paid up!" she insisted. "Just because some new asshole up there starts thinking he can throw his weight around doesn't mean we have to bother with this!"

"Danni, look." Mike sounded tired. "This isn't connected to the payoff. Hell, Briggs' replacement might not even know about the system. We just got caught. You knew we'd have to update the license sooner or later."

"The whole point in paying the bribe was to avoid updating the license!"

"If it's such a concern, we could use your cruiser to deliver the shipment―"

"No, idiot. The cruiser is practically brand new, and it's a luxury model. I don't want this new guy to start putting things together and checking into my production. I'm not supposed to be able to afford a ship like that. The other one is a tax write-off and has all the smuggling holes I need."

"Well, it'll never pass inspection as it is," Mike said matter-of-factly. "The thing flies okay, but it looks like shit, and frankly we've let it go this past year. Half the internal functions are erratic. Last time Vic took it to the station he couldn't get the water system to keep working."

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"So how long to get it all working?"

"Days, Danni."

"I don't have days, dammit! If we don't get the shipment up there by tomorrow, I lose my carriers! For the legitimate goods as well as the smuggled ones! That cuts too heavily into my profits. These gems are the best of the harvest and I have buyers waiting."

"I'm just telling you the truth, Danni. Even if you had all the mechanics working on it now, you'd still have to send one up with it to keep working on the internal functions while it was in transport. The ship only holds two people, and one of them has to be the pilot."

"And will that be enough to get it to pass inspection?"

"Maybe, if the mechanic you send with stays up non-stop working on it."

"Fine. Wyl can do it. He's the best mechanic we've got, even if he is a little shit."

Wyl stared over at Taylor in consternation. Not today, dammit, not today. He stood up silently and darted fast for the door, but not fast enough. "Wyl!" Danica's voice cracked like a whip. "Stop. Get over here."

Wyl stopped and turned. "Need something?"

"I think you know I do." Her cat-like eyes took him in, and the irritation on her face dissolved into something sultry. He looked at her eyes and shivered. They were black, almost completely black, with no iris visible, drowned by the darkness of her pupils. He had no idea what drug she was on, but it was obvious she had taken something. Even she didn't usually let herself get so riled up. "Come here, Wyl. Sit next to me." She perched on a bench, crossing her slender legs and smiling.

Wyl sighed. He knew the consequences of openly defying her. He walked over and sat down three feet away from her. "Oh, Wyl. So coy." She tilted her head charmingly, making her bright metallic hair flutter across her shoulders. "Aren't you enjoying your day of rest?"

"I might enjoy it more if I didn't know it was ending."

"It's only because you're the best, Wyl. Sweet Wyl." She reached out one hand and stroked a manicured nail down his cheek. Wyl resisted the urge to shudder, and cringed when he felt something inside of him respond to the touch. It had been so long since anyone had touched him. "You fix the ship up good enough to get a new license, and I'll give you a week off." She promised him, smiling enticingly. "A whole week of rest and relaxation, and maybe a little...recreation as well."

"Great." He kept his voice flat. Danica's eyes narrowed.

"Let me put it another way, then. If the ship doesn't get a new license, I'll hold you personally responsible and take away your rest days for three months, until the next harvesting cycle."

It almost felt better to get the threat out in the open. He nodded. "Now I understand you."

"Well, I don't understand you. Why do you make me punish you, Wyl? I'd much rather be nice to you than threaten you." She turned coy again, and reached out a hand to touch him. Wyl drew his breath in sharply.

"Miss Jessom?" A cool feminine voice broke the tension. Both heads turned to see Leesie standing in the doorway. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to get your opinion on the best cut for that 3.2 carat diamond..."

Danica huffed irritably, and Wyl felt the flush slowly drain from his face. "Fine. I'm coming. Wyl, get started on the ship. The other mechanics will be there soon. Mike, see to it." The manager nodded and walked off. "Don't disappoint me, Wyl. This isn't going to be a pleasure trip for you. Get it done, or you'll pay the price."

"You should give classes in motivational speaking."

"You haven't seen motivation yet," she purred. "Run along now, little mouse. Before you upset me." Danica stood, smoothed her hair back, then walked out the door, brushing past Leesie with a haughty sniff. Leesie's eyes met Wyl's for a moment, and he felt a surge of warmth for her and her amazing sense of timing. Then she turned away, and the cold crept back in.

Wyl dragged himself to the shop, slowly selecting the tools he would need to use on the ship and loading them onto the lifter. At least the Wreck, as most of the workers called it, wasn't in the warehouse. He still pulled on overalls, since he was cold almost anywhere, and trudged to the docking bay.

Wyl hardly even saw the Wreck as he put his earplugs in and began to work. His face still felt uncomfortably hot, burning where she touched him. That was bad. It had been so long since anyone had touched him like that, touched him like they wanted him...he felt his eyes begin to tear and blinked furiously. He was in a bad way if someone as personally repulsive as Danica could move him to tears.

He didn’t wanted her, not really, but he wanted someone. Some kind of connection. He hadn't had anyone, not in that way, since he'd become a bonder. Four years. He closed his eyes for a moment and recalled his dreams, when he'd still had the energy to dream. A body pressed close to his, someone holding him, quiet laughter, caresses and the feel of another man's...

Wyl snapped his eyes open. Pointless, it was pointless. Furious at himself, he focused on the hull in front of him, putting on a visor and pulling out his welder. There was a lot of work to do.