Thread: Into the Black [missedstations & Bathos]

Remarque did not even wince at the pain. He had been shot, stabbed, beaten, his bones broken... His body was covered with more scars than most people ever saw in their lifetimes. It wasn't that he invited trouble he was just largely indifferent to pain. Even when he was a child, he would happily ignore the burns on his hands as he worked with his mother. That indifference to physical discomfort was what made him such a good officer it allowed him to think more rationally about the situation. The metal hurt, the grip hurt, but so long as he would have no need for medical care he would not complain. Personal joy of a job well done, huh. Bollocks to that. Remarque preferred to look at least slightly dignified, so he tried to keep up with his not-so-charming bounty hunter. He glared at the recruiter, knowing full well that the man was a coward, and that he would do absolutely nothing. His leaving that ship would only mean them staying slightly longer in port, the captain being upset that he had to hire someone for a proper wage, and, well, that was it. He wondered who had fucked him over. Now that his initial shock was over, he was furious at himself. Why did he let anyone in his room at all? Why he didn't just shoot? Why did he just not pretend that he had no idea what the bounty hunter was talking about? He gritted his teeth. The Dioscuri was the sort of ship Remarque had always avoided looking at, because whenever he saw one, the regret would rise in his throat. That was the sort of ship he had always wanted to fly, the sort of ship he always wanted to build. He felt the same sort of trill in his heart as he did so long ago when he boarded the Requiem. That felt centuries ago, and he had forgotten in. He shifted his hands, wondering what he would find behind those beautiful lines. He doubted that Vince would give him a chance to find out, but there was nothing wrong with hoping... So long ago, he had joined the military because that was the only way of getting off the trade ship he was born on, a falling apart wreck that not all of the efforts of the crew could save. With his military salary, his mother had been able to renovate. He had no idea what had happened to his family. Space was big, and he had little interest in looking. Metal was more important to him than blood ties. His kinship lay with the emptiness between the stars. Born in space, raised in space, ships were more his home than planets could ever be. In his life, he doubted that he had spent a cumulative year on solid ground. No wonder he was a bit strange, as dissociated as he was from from the rest of humanity. He glanced at Rosemary without interest and almost did not acknowledge her presence at all. The ship was far, far prettier than her breasts. Fast. That assessment just made him feel stupid. He had become distinctly harder to pull along since he entered the ship. He had begun the careful categorisation of the ship, seeing where the control panels lay, where the ship's innards could be entered. He quietly hoped that Vince would leave his hands free, and that where he was going to be kept had some part that could be lifted off. It was nothing on the Requiem, of course, his one true love, but it would be a beautiful ship to play with. If only he could... If only he could. When they arrived at their destination, he spoke again, 'Look I have no money, but I can pay you. I'll work for you.' Well, he would really rather not. 'You can use me as you like, just don't hand me over.' There was the implicit suggestion that Vince could use him for sex should he like to. And, at the end, he added, 'Please?'