Before they reached the kitchen, Quinns was hoping it was late enough no one else would be awake. It surprised him to see Serge still up and working so late. After Quinns cursed his bad luck, he wondered why. Serge’s expression didn’t help – he was angry about something. No surprise there.

The thought left his mind when Serge reappeared at the kitchen door. He had a large tray, a few bowls, and three cups balanced on his arms. Quinns was sure if he handled only half of that, he’d still have dropped something. Serge organized it all in front of them, placing items down without a sound. The tray was an earthy display of vegetables and wafers, and the bowls held different spreads. One was deep green and chunky, the other orange and smooth.

“Was waiting to see if ya wanted to celebrate, Captain.” He said. “Water or something hydrated?” He asked, setting down the glasses.

“Neither,” Gary spoke first. Serge nodded, ducking down to retrieve something tucked into one of the cabinets. A grain whiskey from one of the colony stations they stopped at. Amber liquid filled the glass, clear and smooth. While he waited to ask for a drink, Quinns grabbed one of the wafers. Made from tiny seeds with a glossy finish, they had a bumpy texture. He scooped up some of the creamy spread. It was pleasantly sour with enough bite to be refreshing.

A glass was placed down in front of Quinns. He started to thank Serge but noticed the glass was full of a clear dark red liquid. Fortified fruit punch.

“When your stomach stops making that noise, you can have something different,” Serge said. Quinns nodded, dutifully taking a sip. If he was being honest, he preferred fruit juice in the morning hours anyway. Serge had not only noticed, but bothered to remember it. Quinns stared into his glass before taking another sip. That realization was a little unsettling, but also kinda nice. The sweet tartness revived him, it was hard to drink it without gulping it down.

“Thanks.” Quinns felt the need to say something more. “Are we still running low?” He asked. What a boring thing to ask, but Serge regarded him with a serious look.

“Restocked at Luxe. It is easy to remember cause that one always runs out first. For some reason.” He said. Was it meant as a joke or was Serge actually annoyed? Quinns felt his ears get warm.

“Uh, yeah. Some reason.” Quinns said, picking up another wafer. “These are good.” It was a compliment. Why did it sound so awkward when he said it? Serge smirked.

“They came out the way I planned. Just water, seeds, and seasoning.” He said, pride clear in his voice. “The trick is how you dry them out.” The conversation stalled, and Quinns wished someone would say something. Anyone but him. Gary granted his wish.

“So, what are we celebrating, Serge?” His voice was hinting at something. Serge nodded, and it occurred to Quinns they were in on something.

“The mess in the bathroom has been beat.” He said. Quinns didn’t believe his ears. He rested his hand on the bar and leaned closer.

“You got it clean?” Quinns asked.

“I got it fixed.” Serge grinned at Quinns’ shock. In that moment, Quinns saw the resemblance between the siblings. He needed to ask one more time to make sure.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

“It’s really done?” Quinns glanced at Gary for confirmation and he nodded. Serge crossed his arms.

“Cleaned her ‘til she shined, replaced the leaky bits. It’s like new under that floor. If you think you can do better – go ahead and try.” He said. Quinns pushed off the bar, jumping out of his seat.

“Oh, thank the stars. I was dreading doing that – I had no idea what I was going to do.” He laughed. Serge blinked and glanced at Gary.

“Did you get him drunk before this?” He asked and Gary smirked, trying not to laugh himself. Quinns wasn’t listening as he interrupted.

“Ah, that saves so much time. My list didn’t change at all,” Quinns laughed again. Gary shook his head, but his eyes were playful.

“Nah, this is just overtired. You’ll know when he’s drunk.” He said. Quinns felt his ears grow hot, and he settled back into his seat. His elation translated into an appetite, and he tried one of the vegetables. They were still talking when he started on another, this time with the green spread. Savory with a hint of fish. It was delicious. He was almost halfway through the tray when he realized his mistake.

“Serge,” He said and they both looked at him. The full attention gave him pause, and he raced through his words. “Thank you. Next time, can I, uh, ask you about bio plumbing stuff?” He said. Serge half-smiled – the closest to a genuine smile Quinns had seen on him. He met Quinns eye to eye with a squint as if still trying to figure something out.

“Ask anytime. Don’t hurt to ask.” Serge drew himself up, shoulders straight, hands on his hips. “Got a lot of talents, you know. I can do a lot around here.” There was something beyond his usual bravado in his tone. He loomed over the counter, daring Quinns to say otherwise.

“Yeah. I’m still getting used to that.”

“It’s been a year,” Serge said. And yet, Quinns could still count the number of conversations he shared with Serge on both hands. His face felt hot and he imagined he was the same shade as the error messages.

“So, I’m a little shy.” He shrugged. He wanted it to be natural, but that just wasn’t who he was.

“No kidding.”

“Kind of an understatement there, Quinns,” Gary said with a mischievous smile. Quinns gave him a quick glare, waving it off.

“Anyway.” Quinns looked to Serge. “I’ll remember it next time I need help. Thanks, Serge. Really. Thank you.” He said. Serge nodded, and like a taut string loosening, his posture eased.

“Glad to be of service.” He said, stretching his fingers. His tone was sincere, and Quinns felt his blood pressure drop a notch. The conversation was smooth from there. Likely because Gary and Serge did most of the talking. When he finished eating, Quinns yawned and got to his feet.

“I better go finish up…” He said, testing his left leg. It was awake. Good, now he just needed that feeling throughout the rest of his body.

“No, you aren’t. You’re going to sleep, Quinns. Captain’s order.”

“I still gotta clean up at least,” Quinns muttered.

“Nope. I will follow you if I have to.”

“Thinking about that mess is gonna drive me crazy, Gary.” He said, trying to put more energy into his voice.

“Consider it punishment for not taking care of yourself,” Gary said and Quinns frowned, his brow creasing. Gary got up, turning to Serge.

“Do you need any help cleaning up?”

“I think I can handle it,” Serge answered with a raised eyebrow. “The drink already hittin’ you, Captain?” He added, gaining a grin from Gary.

“No,” He chuckled, “Thank you for your hard work.”

The next morning Quinns stood before the third back-up fuel injector. His face grew hot as he stared at the mess he had left. It was the first sign he had pushed himself too hard, and the heat spread to his ears. And of course, Gary saw it. He sighed and started to pick up the items. When he reached the oil canister they had looked at the night before, he looked it over one more time. There was the old guy on the front, but Gary was right. There used to be a grinning fish. His eyes widened, and a realization washed over him.

“You gotta be kidding me.” He muttered, opening his PD. “It’s a different variety of the same brand…” Quinns pulled away to see the oil gauge. It had dropped a second tic since the dry run. What if maintenance had used the wrong oil? It sat there for over a decade in storage and only broke when they set out on their first trip. When he was checking it over, he matched the composition to the canister. It never occurred to him the maintenance team could have used the wrong variety. Could it be that simple? He laughed. It was worth a try.