Until the point he was shadowed by Soen Tamn, Hermes spent most of his time with Earthlings and Tarotans. It wasn’t that he was unfamiliar with the Medese—he was a quarter Medese himself—but after watching Tamn go through his evening routine of filing his fingers and applying spicy-scented oil to his hair, Hermes felt especially out of sorts.

He decided to distract himself from his uncomfortable unfamiliarity by estimating the percentage of Dromian in Tamn’s genetics.

The planet of Dromeda was home to two human races, Medese and Dromians, and over thousands of years, the two had blurred lines until the Dromians were functionally extinct. The Medese, a more “dominant” race in the sense that they won more wars, encompassed all of Dromeda at this point.

The characteristics that sat the two apart physically was actually hair—the Medese, traditionally, had no hair follicles, while the Dromians had hair similar to Earthlings. Tamn had many traditional markings of the Medese—their most common red skin coloration of a full blood red—and a slight protruding forehead plate made of rock hard bone. But his hair—long, silky, and black—spoke of the Dromian ancestry in his line.

“What are you staring at, Roboy?” Tamn grunted. They were seated across the small shared sleeping quarters temporarily assigned for Hermes’ protection, with Tamn reclined at the small dining set, feet propped upon the opposite chair, idly filing his fingertips with an emery board.

Hermes, seated on his too-small bed, blinked a few times and looked away. “Nothing.”

Tamn continued to file, dulling down the natural points that his shiny crystal-like nails grew into. “You looked like you had a question.”

“I am trying to decipher my own internal reactions.”

“Your internal reactions to me?”

Hermes hesitated before nodding.

Tamn glared. His eyes had black sclera and red irises, a common coloration among the Medese. Like Hermes, he had a ridge upon his nose and forehead, but unlike Hermes, he also had rock-like protrusions off his forehead, forming a crown of jagged horns that held his black hair from his face.

Cam found him attractive, Hermes knew. He had chosen Tamn as a sexual partner—a regular sexual partner. This man was, to Cam, special. Hermes’ fists tightened against his lap.

// . they / touched.

It was with a surprised jolt that Hermes realized he hadn’t successfully suppressed his unwarranted jealousy. “I see,” he said before he could stop himself.

“Oh?” Tamn raised a black eyebrow and sat up, setting aside his nail file. “Spill.”

“I would rather not. I am uncomfortable discussing this.” Hermes forced himself to loosen his fists.

Tamn rolled his eyes. “Are you trying to make the next week or two as awkward as you possibly can or is that just—I dunno—poor programming?”

“I believe you are the one making it awkward, Tamn.”

“You believe incorrectly.”

They fell into a tense silence, simply staring at one another in the mostly-empty room, the stars twinkling through the one narrow window at the top of the far wall.

Eventually, Hermes looked down at his fingers, flexing. “I am envious of your connection to Cam.” Tamn was quiet for a minute—and then he laughed.

Hermes peeked up and saw him motioning into the air. “That’s great,” said Tamn. “We’re jealous of each other. How stupid is that?”

Hermes’ brows pinched close in confusion. “I do not understand.”

“Cam’s, like, obsessed with you.”

ob·sess

/əbˈses/

verb

preoccupy or fill the mind of (someone) continually, intrusively, and to a troubling extent.

Hermes’ mind went completely blank. He finally said, “Hm.”

Tamn snorted. “It’s like you were designed by a league of scientists trying to make the perfect specimen or something.”

“I was designed by scientists,” Hermes said, reaching up to hold his chin, thinking.

“I was joking.”

“Oh.”

“The point is that I’m just some fucking guy and you’re, like, the universe’s only true son, and, of course, Cam is going to pick you. I’m not even mad. I’m just—”

“Irrationally jealous.”

“Yeah, basically.”

“I understand.”

Tamn raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“You have been with Cam sexually.”

Tamn considered this for a moment, looking up into the grayish air. “True. Off and on for the better part of a year.”

Stolen story; please report.

“You are important to him.”

Tamn’s eyes narrowed in thought before he sagged back into his seat. He sighed. “Before all this happened, I tried to ask him to spend time with me outside of sex and he shut me down. And I blame you.” Hermes' brows raised. “You’re too hot to compete with. It actually kind of pisses me off.”

“I do not think Cam considered me a close companion until very recently. Your anger is misplaced.” And Tamn was angry. The tightness in his jaw, the elevated heart rate, and his pointed, hostile stare—

The person who targeted Dr. Wha and Hermes was someone already aboard Soter. Tamn didn’t necessarily have access to request missions, but he was a security analyst, and was likely one of the crewmen responsible for designating T-446 as safe for contact. And Tamn consistently mentioned that Hermes was not a naturally born human—something the Anti-I movement purported every opportunity. To Tamn, and the Anti-Is, Hermes was just a soulless robot.

“Do you hate me?” Hermes asked.

Tamn’s jaw tightened. “Sometimes.”

Enough to want him dead?

He could find out.

The realization dawned like a distant sun outside the ship window.

Hermes could find out.

He stood up.

Tamn, looking confused, gave him a once-over. "What are you doing?"

Hermes walked over and extended his arm, palm up. "May I please hold your hand?"

Tamn blinked, eyes round. And then he said, "No."

Hermes continued to hold out his hand and ruminated on his options. He could just—grab some part of Tamn if he wanted. But that seemed inappropriate.

While he was thinking of alternatives, Tamn sighed. "Fine. Here." He stood up and placed his hand upon Hermes' open fingers. The initial stab of pain was expected and passed with a patient exhale.

Hermes gently curled his hand around Tamn's thick, stony skin, and looked him in the eyes. "Are you part of the Anti-I movement?"

"What the fuck?" The religious nutjobs from Earth? Is this guy a fucking idiot or what? He's lucky he's good-looking, because he’s rude as hell. "Are you seriously accusing me of killing Dr. Wha? Of killing all those crewmen? Fuck you, Hermes." Tamn snatched his hand away, but not before thinking, You're not worth the loss of all those lives. How dare you accuse me of this heinous shit.

"I am not accusing you," Hermes said. "It was a simple inquiry."

"Your inquiry was an accusation, you—"

"You are not part of the Anti-I. You hate me because I am me, not because I am unnatural."

"Glad that's crystal fucking clear." Tamn looked down at his palm and then at Hermes. "What did you do to me?"

"Do? I did not do anything."

Tamn snatched Hermes' hand again and Hermes wasn’t expecting the jolt this time so he winced, visibly. “I know you did something, Hermes. I'm not stupid.” Not like you, anyway.

Hermes tried to pull his hand back, but Tamn held it firm.

"Answer the question, Hermes. What did you do?"

Hermes, nervously, thought of Cam and his warning to keep his telepathy hidden.

Tamn jumped backward, as if burned by a flame, and flagged his hand. “Ow. What the shit was that?”

“What?”

He looked from his hand to Hermes and back again. "I heard you. Like, in your head. I could hear your thoughts. You're—you're fucking telepathic? Since when?"

“You heard my thoughts.”

“You thought about Cam and how he told you to hide your telepathy. Yeah.”

Hermes looked at his fingers, eyes wide. “That is new.”

“New? How long have you been telepathic?”

“Since T-446.” There was no use hiding it now—Tamn knew the truth. “But I have not been able to telepathically share my thoughts before now. I could only hear the thoughts of others.”

Tamn went silent for a minute, eyes tracking over the air as he thought. “You were checking my thoughts to see if I'm the traitor.” He looked up, eyes narrowed. “Which I'm not, and I'm still insulted you'd think so.”

“You hate me. It was not out of the realm of possibility.”

“I work in security, dipshit. My job is to keep people safe. I would never—”

“I know this now.”

Tamn crossed his arms. “And I don't hate you enough to kill you.”

Hermes nodded.

After a moment, Tamn said, “No one knows you can do this. Except Cam. Not even Shear?”

“Only Cam. And now you.”

“We can find the traitor, then. Do what you just did to me, but to the rest of the staff. But—” Tamn sighed and reached back to rub at the back of his neck, like his muscles were sore. “—we'd have to keep it low-key. Cam was right, probably. We can't let anyone know.”

“For my own safety.”

“For your own advantage,” Tamn said. “Having an element of surprise is more powerful than the power itself.”

Hermes would learn, eventually, how true that was.

“And even if I hate you—which, by the way, hate is kind of a strong word—it’s my job to keep you safe. You don’t know me, so you don’t know, but I’m very fucking good at my job.”

“Captain Shear employs the best in their fields,” Hermes agreed. He shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably before stepping back. “I apologize for inadvertently implying you are inadequate in your position. But it’s appropriate to suspect almost everyone aboard Soter. The ‘traitor’ is likely a highly skilled individual themselves. ”

“Yeah, probably. That’s why I’m going to teach you how to fight,” said Tamn.

“You’re—what?”

“Tomorrow morning. We’re going to the training quarter. And I’m going to teach you how to defend yourself.”

Fighting? Hermes didn’t have any interest in violence. Quite the opposite. “I am more inclined to solve problems through intensive discussion.” A flash of red—the blood of the Earthlings he killed on T-446 with their own weapon—colored his vision. Hermes winced at the memory. “I did not enjoy fighting on the mission.”

“I know,” Tamn said, and he didn’t sound mad or frustrated for once. He sounded almost—kind. “You’re annoying, but you’re a pretty gentle guy. I know. You have to trust me, though. Learning how to defend myself was the only way I recovered from what happened to me. And training isn’t inherently violent. It’s just exercise.”

“Something happened to you?” Hermes tilted his head. “You experienced a traumatic event in your youth.”

“About ten years back, yes. I saw a lot of people die. Fighting helped with my recovery. And I’ll sleep easier knowing that you can at least dodge out of the way occasionally if something like this ever happened to you again.”

Hermes was still uncertain.

“Cam and Falco are joining us. They just confirmed it. 0800.”

Cam? “I see. I suppose I am amenable.”

Tamn reached up and patted Hermes’ shoulder in a manner that was almost condescending. “Yeah, I know.” Tamn thought, as he stepped away: Amenable definitely means ‘horny for Cam.’