Though Cam attended Earthguard’s academy in secondary school during his late teens, and his entire family had been considered Earthguard Elite for five generations, his sentiments towards the military-slash-scientific establishment were ambivalent at best.
Earth was in their name, obviously, but the Earthguard was not composed solely of Earthlings—in fact, it was quite diverse. Whether they were Tarotan or Vn or whatever—to Cam, they were a monolith of pushy, wide-shouldered jocks that valued punching faces over punching numbers.
Yes, he wanted to receive official Earthguard recognition—it came with fame and accolades that would make his mother very happy—but he didn’t approve of their pretentious, power-hungry culture.
His opinion was perhaps slightly sullied from his years being bullied by the stronger men and women at the academy. He graduated early because of his genius—but also because he wanted to get away from the jerks that called him “pretty boy” (in a way that wasn’t sexy, of course). And Cam had chosen to work aboard Stellarship Soter because Soter was not officially designated ‘Guard; Captain Shear ran the ship through a private guild and his crew wasn’t beholden to Earthguard rules.
The Earthguard clearly didn’t give a shit about that. They were the peacekeepers, the detectives, and the all-powerful, and whenever a bloody conflict came to pass, they were going to stick their noses into it—as was their bureaucratic right.
When the brown-furred Tarotan woman leading the investigation snapped her fingers in his direction and pointed towards one of the conference room doors, Cam felt his hair stand on end in frustration. “You’re with Falco,” she barked. She turned to Hermes and looked him up and down, brows lifted in surprise. “You’re—big,” she said, distracted.
Hermes didn’t reply, simply looking down at her, awaiting instruction.
She cleared her throat and pointed at the room next to Cam’s. “You’re with me in here.” When she turned to see Cam had yet to move, she snapped her fingers in front of his face. Again. “Now, Cameron.”
Oh, he was going to hate this. He didn’t even know her name, because she hadn’t deigned to introduce herself to him. He felt distinctly as if he were useful only to be wrung out like a damp dishcloth. Nevermind the fact that he was exhausted and that Hermes had to pour his heart out in front of the entire crew by reciting a eulogy four hours ago.
Cam entered the conference room and took a seat across from a middle-aged human man. He was fair-skinned and had a closely-buzzed cut of vibrant ginger hair, which was also visible in his brows and the pointed goatee upon his chin. “Falco, I presume,” Cam said.
Branton Falco snapped his digipad closed and looked down his nose at where Cam was across the table. “Yep. One moment.” He pulled out a recording device and placed it on the table. “This is a recollection from Cameron Ollis, data analyst from Stellarship Soter,” he said towards the mic. He then rested his hands carefully one on top of the other in front of himself and put a flat, emotionless smile upon his face. “So, Cam. I realize recounting these details can be uncomfortable for some, but I’m hoping anything you can tell us will help.”
Cam looked to the wall on his right, where Hermes was likely being asked to do the very same thing. His skin crawled in discomfort. “Yeah. Where should I start?”
“The beginning, I suppose.”
“Okay. Well, we boarded the shuttle on time—a little early, actually—”
“No, no,” Falco interrupted. “Sorry, I mean the actual beginning. When you were first assigned this mission.”
Cam blinked. “Oh. It was eleven days before we were set to take off. Qhathiren Wha asked if I would join them to T-446.”
“Exactly eleven days before?” Falco opened his digipad again and began tapping in something on a document.
“Yes?”
“And why did she request your presence?”
Cam glanced to the wall again. “I was going to travel with Hermes.”
“For what purpose?”
“She just wanted another set of hands to help out.”
“With the mission?”
“Um, sort of.” Cam shifted, skin still crawling. “It was Hermes’ first mission and she wanted him to have a friend to rely on.”
“In case things got hairy.”
“Well, no—” Cam’s brow scrunched. “She didn’t say anything about, like, it being dangerous. I wouldn’t’ve gone if I thought it was dangerous. The brief said it—this was a really simple touch-base. It wasn’t supposed to be life-threatening at all.”
“Then why bring backup?”
“I’m sorry, is—” Cam gestured between himself and Falco. “Is there something you want to say, exactly?”
“No. What makes you say that?” Falco’s robotic smile had yet to waver, his hands still poised before himself.
“Your line of questions are suggesting something and it’s making me uncomfortable.”
“What’s it you think I’m suggesting, Cam?”
“It’s Ollis,” Cam snapped. “You should—respectfully—call crewmen by their family names when working on official business, Falco.”
“That’s right,” Falco said, nodding, “I recall that you trained under the Earthguard for a time.”
“Yeah.”
“I apologize, Crewman Ollis. What is it that you are uncomfortable with me suggesting?”
“You’re making it sound like Dr. Wha had some devious plan. She didn’t. Hermes was just trying to learn—trying to make, like—” Cam stumbled over himself and felt his face go red, mouth closing with an audible click.
“It was not my intention to imply Qhathiren had ulterior motives. I just want to understand her inclusion of you in the mission.”
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“She wanted me to be his friend.” Cam thought back to the conversation she had with him in the Training Quarter. It felt like a lifetime ago. He said, slowly, recounting her words as close as possible, “She wanted me to help him navigate being a person. That’s all.”
“I see,” said Falco.
But as he thought back to the conversation, Cam felt a distant, unsettled fear. Qhat had been acting weird. She had been pushy and she wouldn’t take ‘no.’ Cam’s inclusion wasn’t necessary—”friend” isn’t a typical ground-mission title—and it was last minute. He even meant to ask her, before they took off, why she chose now to seek out an official companion for her surrogate son. It had never been in the plans before. But Cam had been so easily distracted by Hermes, his gentle disposition, and his beautiful face, and the inquiry slipped his mind.
“Is there something else? Some behavior that you questioned? Anything to note?” Falco asked, eventually, after the silence stretched for a moment.
Cam stared at the smooth marble finish of the table. “No,” he lied.
“Okay. We can jump ahead to the day. Through your eyes—what happened?”
----------------------------------------
The s/ pider//.
The spiderwebs of shattered glass criss-crossed over his vision. //ision. /
//.
He saw her d/ie.
He s//aw her last breath.//
“I love.// you.”
I lo ve yo u and I’m so sorry.
/.
/
----------------------------------------
“I’ll send the record over to HQ and we’ll let you know if we figure anything out. I really appreciate your patience,” said Wilamen Gwn, the Tarotan woman leading the investigation. She gave Hermes another glance up and down as they stepped outside the conference room, interview completed.
“It is no problem,” Hermes replied.
“I was wondering… Do you have dinner plans?” she asked, a small smile tilting the corners of her mouth.
Hermes looked down and considered the question. He didn’t want to eat. In fact, his insides felt solidified, like he was made of a well-worn stone. Recounting the traumatic events of T-446 was more difficult than speaking at the funeral he attended earlier that day, which left him with a sad sort of exhaustion he wasn’t sure would be cured with sleep. “I do not have plans, no,” he said.
Her smile grew. “Great.”
Why was that great?
She reached out, her hand connecting with his arm, and the pain that accompanied it was expected, this time. “Would you like to grab a bite to eat in my guest quarters? In maybe an hour?” That would be enough time for me to shave everything, she thought.
Hermes’ confusion was all-encompassing. “I would not,” he said honestly.
Her own confusion was amplified through her touch. She wondered: Didn’t he want to have sex? He seemed open to the idea seconds ago. I want to peel the clothes off his body piece by piece, put my mouth on hi—
There was a second sudden pain—sharp and dagger-like—between his eyes. Hermes recoiled out of her touch. He felt violated and violating at once, his breath caught in his chest. It had never hurt to hear someone’s thoughts before—only when they first touched.
“Are you okay?” she asked, brows raised.
“I’m—” The pain was gone as quickly as it came and in its place, there was only embarrassment. Hermes felt some level of humiliation seeing himself objectified in her thoughts. “You misunderstand me,” he said, voice calm despite his internal conflict and his staggering confusion. “And that is an inappropriate proposition, as I am the subject of your investigation.”
Gwn’s face fell; her smile crashed into a flat, harsh line. “Of course. I wasn’t implying anything untoward. It’s just dinner—don’t get the wrong idea.” Her own tone was accusatory—as if Hermes were the one that turned the conversation sexual.
Which was an outright lie. Hermes was almost impressed at the boldness of it, but of course—she had no clue Hermes would know. In fact, based on the hard look behind her eyes, she seemed to be banking on Hermes’ naivete to save face.
Hermes sought the words to explain how what she said was wrong, lost in his own feelings and the newness of the situation, but Cam stepped out from the neighboring room, eyes ringed in red, and Hermes abandoned all thought except Cam’s hurt, Cam’s sad, CamCamCam. He moved over to him. “Are you alright?” he asked, voice low.
-
VISION RED VISION CRACKED ./ CAM/S HURT
SAVE CAM
SAVE CAM /
SAVE CAM
// . —
-
Cam didn’t look up. He shook his head, his long soft hair swishing back and forth before his face.
A red-haired man stepped out from behind Cam, smiling. “Good evening, Hermes.”
Hermes felt something righteous and hot flood his mind as he stepped between the stranger and Cam. What sort of emotional onslaught had this man inflicted in his questioning? “I do not believe we have been introduced,” Hermes said, teeth grit.
“I’m Branton Falco. Part of the investigation team.” He held out his hand.
Hermes took it, prepared for the pain; prepared to read the dark thoughts of a harmful man.
I’m hungry, Falco thought mildly. I wonder if this piece of shit ship has rolls. I’d kill for a meatball sub.
Oh. Hermes pulled his hand back, anger dampening. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said, though he didn’t mean it at all. Perhaps his ability to lie was growing stronger.
Gwn cleared her throat. “We’ll be in touch as we continue our research. Keep your comms on.” She gestured towards Falco and they started down the hall. “How’d it go?” she asked him as they left, voices carrying.
He snorted, sounding bored. “Fine, I guess.”
When they were out of earshot, Hermes leaned down towards Cam. “Cam?”
Cam finally looked up. Breathing even again. “Hey.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. It just sucks having to talk about all that shit.” Hermes nodded in sage understanding. A smile pulled at Cam, and Hermes felt his insides melt like chocolate candy in sunshine. “How did it go for you?”
“It was fine,” Hermes said. He glanced back down the hall. “Gwn propositioned me.” He didn’t mention the pain—it was so fleeting that it seemed mostly irrelevant.
A beat passed. Cam’s voice elevated to a squeak. “She propositioned you. Sexually?” Hermes nodded. Cam’s voice lowered to a harsh whisper. “That’s not okay. She’s in charge of this whole thing.”
“That is what I said. She denied it, but I heard her intentions clearly, when we were touching.”
“You were touching?”
“She placed her hand upon my arm.”
Cam’s lip curled back. “And the Earthguard’s supposed to be good at restraint. I mean, shit, you’re obviously a whole snack, but she could at least wait until they figure everything out.”
“A whole snack?”
Cam paused before bursting into a laugh. “It means you’re attractive.”
“Oh.”
Cam shifted from one foot to the other before asking hesitantly, “Are you…interested in her advances, though? Like—if we were outside of all this.”
Hermes tilted his head. “I suppose I was unclear before now,” he said.
Cam blinked up at him owlishly.
“I desire only you.”
Cam’s round eyes were frozen upon Hermes’ face. Suddenly, color flooded his pale skin. “Um.”
“I would kiss you now, if I could,” Hermes said with warm, earnest emphasis.
“Oh my god.” Cam seemed briefly torn. “You’re too much. Seriously.” He reached out and Hermes jerked backward before his hand could make contact with his chest. Cam withdrew his hand immediately, eyes wide with hurt. “Oh. Sorry,” he said. “I just…assumed...”
“No, it is not you,” Hermes rushed to say. “I am hesitant to touch anyone. I cannot control—” A crewman turned the corner, writing something on a digipad, oblivious to Cam and Hermes as he walked by. Hermes lowered his voice, lifted his hands, and wiggled his fingers. “This.”
“Oh,” said Cam. “Oh, I see.” He appeared thoughtful, looking at Hermes’ hands. “Have you tried to practice?”
“Practice?”
“If it’s a skill like any other, you can learn to control it.” Another crewman walked by and Cam cleared his throat, waiting for him to pass. “Let’s go back to your quarters. We really shouldn’t be talking about this out here.”
Hermes agreed and tried not to outwardly show his glee at the potential of being alone with Cam once again.