Cam caught himself touching his lips repeatedly when he was back in his quarters alone. Waiting for the kettle to heat up, gently brushing his top lip. Reading the ship-wide bulletins on his digipad, thumb stroking his bottom lip. Showering, hand pressed to his mouth.
Every time he realized he was doing it, he stopped, and groaned in guilty anguish.
Hermes kissed him. Cam kissed him back.
And he liked it.
It wasn’t unreasonable; Hermes was gorgeous. And smart and strong and now he had a superpower.
He was way, way too good for Cam.
Cam sighed as he toweled off his hair and stared at his sunken-eyed self in the bathroom mirror. He looked about as tired as he felt, which was a little unfair. He’d slept for an entire day in the medbay. At least he didn’t have any scarring from the mission; the only real lasting effect was red-rimmed eyes and the aching of his battered soul.
A ping-pong sounded above Cam, notifying him that someone was at his door. When he answered it, Soen Tamn stood on the other side, holding a thermos.
Cam was too surprised to say anything, so Soen spoke first, offering a questioning smile. “I brought you soup.” He shook the thermos. Cam, still at a loss, stepped backwards to give Soen room to enter. He did, door closing behind him, and started to uncap the metal cylinder. “I’ve been in medbay a few times and their food sucks. I figured you could use something with some seasoning.”
Cam realized he was starving. He nodded, stomach knotted in hunger. Soen poured the spicy red broth into the lid of the thermos, the dim window lighting highlighting his handsome aquiline profile from the side, and Cam’s starvation extended to other areas of himself. He was hungry for touch, too.
Soen handed him the cup. “Here.”
Cam took it, their fingers brushing, and his face filled with a bit of color as he drank the soup. It was a traditional Medese dish called solos. Full of iron, which was very good for both humans and Medese, and it tasted almost overwhelmingly of black pepper. It was soothing and warming at once.
“How are you doing?”
Cam looked from the soup to Soen and was met with a concerned, careful stare. “Worried about me still?” he mumbled—trying to be teasing, but instead he just sounded worn out. His voice was rough, so he cleared his throat, and forced himself to laugh self-deprecatingly.
Soen took a step forward and slid a hand against the side of Cam’s face. “Only a little bit.” Cam reached up, hand cupping Soen’s for a moment before pulling it away, off his person. He was touch-starved but tired. “Cam. Let me worry about you for a few minutes.”
Soen took the soup back—the bowl nearly emptied—and fastened the thermos back together before placing it on Cam’s kitchenette counter. He turned to Cam and pulled him into a stiff hug. “Come on. Just for a few minutes.”
Cam hesitated before all but melting into his embrace. This was dangerous, he knew, because Soen was gaining soft, sweet, romantic feelings Cam refused to return. That’s not what he did. But god, it felt good to touch someone—
Soen hugged him close, his round, firm biceps tight against Cam’s shoulders, and Soen sighed into his soft damp hair. “You’re gonna get hero recognition.”
Cam snorted into Soen’s neck. “Really? For what?”
“For what? You saved Hermes.”
The mention of Hermes’ name sent a jolt through Cam and he wrenched backward in surprise. His hunger for touch had made him forget, for a moment, Hermes. He was starved—horny—because of Hermes. Cam placed fingers upon his lips without thinking about it, mind awash with the memory of them kissing. “Oh.”
Soen followed the movement of his fingers and his eyes widened.
Cam met his stare, jerked his hand away, but it was too late—
Soen got a grim and resigned look of recognition. “Something happened with Hermes finally.”
Finally? They’d met two weeks ago. “No, no.” Cam stepped towards him, heart hammering. “It’s not like that.”
Soen stepped backwards. “You don’t need to explain anything, Cam. It’s fine.”
“I’m sorry—” he started.
“Stop,” Soen said, voice firm. Cam bit off the apology, bottom lip pinched between his teeth, and shrank a little into himself. After a beat, Soen continued, “I had another reason to stop in, aside from…” He looked at the thermos, narrowed his eyes, and scoffed at his internal thoughts. Cam could only imagine. “Look, I know how traumatizing something like this can be.”
“Kissing someone you shouldn’t?”
Soen raised an eyebrow. “No. Being attacked on a mission.”
Cam’s face went bright glowing red. Of course.
Soen Tamn, before Stellarship Soter, was a soldier, and had been part of an Earthguard attaché that was ambushed, kidnapped, and held at ransom on Dromeda, Soen’s home planet. Cam didn’t know details—he never asked. Discussing something like that was dark, and he and Soen were supposed to have a relationship that was built entirely on fun.
Cam wasn’t sure how much fun he would have ever again, with the trauma chasing him like a lurking ghost. And then Cam realized—in this moment, chilled without Soen’s touch—that Soen had been chased by the very same ghost and came out the other side laughing.
Cam didn’t know anyone who laughed as easily—or loudly—as Soen Tamn.
Soen rubbed the Medese-typical ridge upon his forehead, like a headache was forming behind his eyes. “I wanted to offer to train you in the combat quarter, when you feel up for it. Learning to fight is what helped me feel normal again.”
Cam looked down at himself, thin and spindly, and thought about it. “You want to train me?”
“Yeah. I was gonna offer the same thing to Hermes. We could all three train together.” He paused before laughing once; a bark of a sound. “Of course, I had no idea you two…”
“We two did nothing,” Cam said, face filling with color again. “I think training is a good idea.”
“Okay. Just let me know when you feel up for it.”
Cam hugged his arms to himself. “Soen, I just—”
“It’s fine, Cam.”
It didn’t feel fine. He felt like he hurt someone. He couldn’t even meet Soen’s eyes as he left and despite the soup and the heater humming to life inside his room, Cam felt very cold.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
----------------------------------------
Everything around Hermes was quiet until it wasn’t. A day passed in silence except for the heating of his meals and the sound of his own breathing, which did little to fill the empty void of his quarters.
But silence soon became a rare commodity.
A ping-pong alert sound came from his door. Hermes answered it to see Adam Shear, captain of Stellarship Soter and, Hermes supposed, heartbroken lover of Dr. Wha.
Shear’s clean-shaven and his square jaw was set and determined. His hair was properly trimmed high and tight. His brown eyes were sharp, clear, and weren’t tinged in the red Hermes associated with Earthling tears. Had Captain Shear cried over the loss like Hermes? Perhaps his tears had come and gone. Hermes wondered how long it would take for his own tears to go for good.
If he had to guess, Hermes would say his captain was angry, not sad.
Hermes bowed his head in respect and stepped backwards to allow Shear inside his quarters. “Please, come in.”
Shear marched in and when he saw Hermes’ piano, his shoulders tightened. After a moment, he turned around to face Hermes again. “How are you?”
Hermes let the door swish shut and looked down to his palms, analyzing himself like he was used to doing. “I have no pain from my injuries.”
Captain Shear looked him up and down. “I’m giving you two months leave, but you can take longer.”
Hermes considered it. “I do not know what I would do with the time. Two months is—” Too much? But Shear had been doing this for decades. Hermes trusted him. “Adequate.”
Shear looked out Hermes’ window to the stars. “We’re holding the memorial service tomorrow at 0900 at the observatory. You don’t have to come, but I would appreciate your presence.”
“I can go.” He didn’t have work, after all. It would be his first time wearing his formals on the ship; what a terrible reason to wear the beautifully tailored black uniform. He thought he’d be wearing it to a holiday celebration, or a formal diplomatic event, or to Dr. Wha and Captain Shear’s wedding.
Instead, a funeral.
He wondered if Cam would go.
“Afterwards, in the afternoon, we’re docking at Nemertes.” Nemertes—a space station a few weeks away from Earth, close to planet Tarot. “There’ll be a Tarotan delegation there to collect Qhat.”
Hermes felt his stomach bottom out, which made no sense. Dr. Wha was already dead. He’d already lost her. But this meant she would be departing Soter for the last time. Without him. He was already lonely, but the idea of her leaving made him feel truly alone.
“I know,” said Shear, as if he were the one that could read minds. He sighed—the only sign of sadness Hermes had seen from him. He immediately righted the emotion back to a stiff professionalism, however, and continued, “After that, we’re meeting with Earthguard investigators. They’re boarding the ship to determine what went wrong with T-446. There are only six of you that returned. They’re going to grill you about everything.”
“I understand,” said Hermes.
“I need you to be honest with them,” said Shear.
“I—” Hermes almost said that he would be honest, but Cam’s voice inside his head stopped him short. He had to lie. For his own safety. “Oh.”
Captain Shear’s sharp, pepper-colored brow raised high. “Oh?”
Hermes looked away. “I will be honest to the best of my ability.”
“Hermes.”
Hermes still didn’t look.
“Hermes.” Slowly, he turned his black gaze back to Shear, and tried not to shrink under his accusatory stare. “Explain yourself.” Shear clapped a hand to Hermes’ shoulder. A sharp pain cut through his head, between his ears—a sensation that now happened every time he touched another person. It was growing more painful with every encounter, but he forced himself to relax, until the pain ebbed away. Shear didn’t seem to notice and said, “I don’t think anyone’s told you this before, but you look like her, sometimes.”
“Like who?”
“Qhat.”
Hermes scrunched his face in thought. “I do?” Obviously Dr. Wha had no blood relation to Him. Hermes’ genetic makeup was a sequence entirely fabricated by the scientists and doctors working on the program. In a way, he looked like all Tarotans, all Medese, all Vn, and all Earthlings.
“Whenever she was hiding something, she’d have that exact look. The guilty—pensive sort of stare.” She was so pretty and I’ll never see her again, Shear thought. Hermes is all I have left of her.
Hermes’ breath caught as his memory worked without fragmenting into pain and he recalled what Dr. Wha had said before she died. “Captain, that was exactly it.” He remembered her crying on T-446, claiming the assault was her fault. “Dr. Wha felt guilty. She said, before she died, that the attack was because of her. Her final words—”
It was suddenly hard to speak.
Shear’s hand tightened on Hermes’ shoulder. “You were there,” he said, sounding—sad. Resigned. “You were there when she died.”
Hermes nodded.
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“You had no control over the situation,” Hermes said.
“Tell me what she said.”
“She said she was sorry.”
“Sorry…” Shear’s hand dropped and he turned, looking back to the stars. “Do you know what she meant?”
“I am uncertain.”
He turned back to Hermes. “What else did she say?”
“She was sorry. She did not want to involve me. She blamed herself.”
“Do you think you can write all this down for the Earthguard when they arrive?”
“Yes.”
“This’ll help.”
“Cam was there as well,” Hermes said.
Shear looked surprised. “Ollis?”
“Yes.”
“Understood. We’ll get to the bottom of this. Thank you for telling me.”
Hermes realized, then, that he’d gotten away with a lie. It was a lie by omission, but a lie nonetheless. Captain Shear still had no clue about Hermes’ new telepathic ability. But he didn’t feel relief or satisfaction—no, he felt—
Somehow, he felt even more alone.
And after Captain Shear left, the bustling activity began. A delivery of his pressed suit, an invitation to speak at the memorial, a rehearsal of the event. Hermes was asked to decide on the hors d’oeuvres (a puffed pastry called albe, a Tarotan classic, and small savory cheesecakes with Dr. Wha’s favorite chili topping). The day went on into night and he found himself only able to sleep a few hours before being awoken with more requests and letters of condolences from his coworkers and flowers—
The Earthlings on Soter continually sent flowers. His room, eventually, was crowded with them. Fragrant and sweet. He was certain the gardening quarter on the top deck of the ship was picked clean.
The endless parade of activity continued on and on, noisy and demanding and sad, until, after the memorial, a small pale hand grabbed his own unexpectedly. The familiar stabbing pain racketed through his brain at the touch, which meant he couldn’t resist as he was hauled forcibly into the janitor’s closet. He had been on the way to the Caf.
“Hi.”
Hermes nearly collapsed at the sound of Cam's voice.
“Hello.” Hermes reached for him before he could think better of it. Cam pulled him into an incredibly welcome hug, and Hermes placed his cheek upon Cam’s soft velvet hair. He smelled like flowers. Hermes found an unexpected comfort in knowing that Cam too was inundated with the floral condolences from the crew and smiled softly into the crown of his head.
They stood there for some time, simply holding one another in comfortable—and now rare—silence. Hermes appreciated it more than ever before.
“Go figure. You’re good at hugging, too,” Cam eventually said, voice muffled into Hermes’ collarbone. You’re just good at everything, he continued in his mind.
“Mm,” was all Hermes replied, basking in the lightheaded relief of feeling less alone.
“I’m tired,” Cam mumbled. I can’t sleep. I just keep seeing you, hurt, dying on my lap. “I could fall asleep standing up like this if we don’t move.”
“Sleep, then.” He meant it; he’d hold Cam there, if it would help.
“No time.” Cam laughed and finally pulled back, stepping backward. “Your eulogy was beautiful. The way you speak Tarotan is very—” Sexy, his mind whispered, hand slipping from Hermes’ arm on that last thought. “—poised.”
Hermes felt the corner of his mouth tilt up. “Thank you.” The word sexy rang between his ears like a high note from a very pleasant song.
“Are you being interrogated by the Earthguard later today?”
Hermes nodded. “Yes. I already spoke with Shear.” Cam’s curious look turned to one of worry. Hermes raised a hand. “It is alright. I simply spoke of Dr. Wha’s final sentiments. He does not know of my telepathy.”
“Right.” Cam sighed, visibly relieved. “Okay. We should get back. They’ll be looking for you first, probably.”
“I want to stay here with you.”
Cam’s bright, glowing smile was impossible to argue against, so when he said, “We can’t do that,” Hermes simply nodded. He let Cam take his hand—trying not to jerk against the stab of pain—and together, they left the closet. When they reached the Caf doors, Cam unlinked their fingers, and Hermes waded into the crowd once more, palm warmed.