Between Stars (1/4)

[laulan]

The only way to truly know someone is to walk with them between stars.

- New Texan Saying



"Name," said the woman in the uniform, bored glance barely flickering over Jared's face.

"Carter, ma'am," said Jared, letting his voice tremble a little. He shoved his shoulders straighter and cleared his throat. "Jax Carter from Sector Three, Kinney Farming Community, Designation Z359814IY--"

"That's enough, kid," the woman snapped, tapping something on his board and scowling. "Stars almighty, I don't need your life story. Report to the maintenance room--that's the fifth door on the left--for your uniform, and get to work. And keep your mouth shut, okay?"

"Yes ma'am," Jared said, ducking his head. "Sorry ma'am."

The woman shook her head, lips pursed, and moved on down the line. “Next--and make it quick, the rest of you.”
No one watched as Jared shuffled out of the room, huge shoulders pulled up around his ears. Outside, the labyrinth of the port stretched around him. Base staff and civilians surged in every direction, different languages popping off the steel walls till you couldn’t catch a single word you knew.

Jared waded through the crowds, counting doors under his breath. People paid him little mind--there was nothing special about yet another green recruit out of uniform, marked by the strip of ID-dye on his throat. There were hundreds of those every week coming through a port like this, from every sector in the planetary system. Jared found the fifth door down with little trouble, and was quickly kitted out in a uniform--“Geeze, greenie, what’d they feed you? You’re huge!”-- and told to move to Bay C for his first shift.

Jared hid a smirk as he ducked back into the hallway. This was where things got interesting.

He veered around a corner toward the cafeteria and ducked into the bathroom there. Everything was exactly where the blueprints had said it would be. He bit his lip to cover the grin of triumph that wanted to bubble up.

There was a line in the bathroom, so he waited five minutes for a stall, then stayed inside it for ten more. By the time he came out, none of the same people who'd seen him go in were hanging around anymore. Which meant no one saw him walk out as a new person: confident, straight-backed, walking quickly like he had somewhere to be. Jax Carter’s fake ID-dye had been easily wiped off, and his uniform had been catapulted up the ranks with a few cloth patches at the neck and a new line of dye on Jared’s hand marking him as ship docking crew.

He'd leeched some battery from the electronic toilet paper dispenser in his stall for his commpad; he kept his eyes glued to it as he walked down the hall, frowning and mouthing a word to himself every now and then so he looked busy. No one, he knew, would recognize him as the bumbling kid from earlier. Jared had a name ready for this alias, too, but he doubted he’d have to use it--there was no need to question a guy who looked like he knew where he was going.

He strode down the hallways until he found Cargo Hold 34, keeping to the busy thoroughfares to make himself harder to follow. The guy standing guard at the door there was younger than Jared, dye by his ear marking him just barely out of greenie training. He had dark smudges under his eyes and was leaning a little against the wall, his shoulders drooping. He'd been on duty a while, then. This was going to be too simple.

"'Scuse me," Jared called out. He locked eyes with the kid, twitching his lips in a pained smile that said he didn’t have time for this. "I'm here to correct a shipment direction. Customer wants the shipment spread over two ships now--something about pirates in the area."

The kid blinked up at him and scrambled to open a new window on his commpad. "I don't see any new notes," he said, biting his lip. Jared could sense the hesitation in his words, though--easy, easy, easy. He pressed a button on his own commpad surreptitiously.

"These goddamn old systems," he muttered, pursing his lips and letting his shoulders go tighter with impatience. "I told Davids to fix--look, I’m just following orders from up top. I got no time for this bureaucratic bullshit, gotta get across base for a 2300. You wanna go get me your commanding officer to solve this problem?" he demanded, putting his hands on his hips and glaring.

The guy’s eyebrows jerked up nervously, and he shifted, clearing his throat. "No, no, uh, sorry. I’m sure it’s like you said, problem with the, uh, the system--can I see your thumb ID, please?"

Rolling his eyes, Jared flashed his thumbprint up at the sensor. The guy frowned at his screen and tapped it with his finger when there was no response. "Oh, I think there's a--uh--a glitch--" he said. Jared let his expression go ugly and impatient, and the guy cringed. "Um, sorry sir, ID number?"

Jared sighed and parroted off the long string of numbers he had memorized that morning. He kept his glee hidden when the guy flicked through the protocol to let Jared in, bobbing his head in an awkward and apologetic bow. Jared nodded tersely in reply and shouldered past him.

An army of cargo boxes and a huge flock of mismatched ships met his eyes as the dock door slid from its bearings and revealed the giant room beyond. The scene was a ship historian’s dream; in a stopover port as old as this one, on the edge of two sectors to boot, you got traders from all over the place with ships from anywhere from brand new to decades old. Some were gleaming with polish, others barely spaceworthy, their hulls grimy and battered and their wings paper-thin. Jared tried to keep down his geeky delight when he spotted a pair of Longan freighters, their solar sails almost brushing the rafters, and a tiny Sunlander razornose, its sharp fins retracted for landing.

He loved ports like this because you got to see ships you didn’t get to see anywhere else. It made him itch to look at their engines and insides, and set a faint, sweet longing ringing through him for the shipyard he’d worked in when he was just out of school. There was a certain bright joy to having the bare bones of a thing laid out under you... still, it paled in comparison to the things he got to do now, he thought.

Jared knew the ship he was looking for wouldn't be here yet. He walked down the huge main aisle, allowing himself a smile when he spotted the cargo hold box he wanted: alpha gnu 294852, about forty feet away. He walked past it until it was out of sight, then stopped in at an electronic info console. Cargo hold docks like this one were so massive that people needed maps to find their shipments. Convenient--both for legit customers and for Jared. He palmed a tiny chip off his commpad and leaned over the console, sticking the chip to the side in a move disguised as a stretch. He smothered a grin as the screen flicked once. With a few simple keystrokes, he had what he wanted in the system. He tried not to let himself bounce with anticipation as he walked back to the hold box to wait.

To pass the time and keep up his disguise as an impatient ship docker, he stayed glued to his commpad, paging through the news with a faint, commanding scowl arranged on his face. No good news, as usual--a gas explosion in a Qechan city over in Sector 5, more government cuts to fuel subsidies in Sector 3, and drought spreading over Titan in his own home Sector, Sector 2. Grimacing, Jared flipped over to the crossword. At least you could win at that.

As he was puzzling over the answer to 24 Across--star-crossed lovers of Old Earth’s China, 3 wds.?- he caught sight of what he was waiting for out of the corner of his eye. A boxy little ship was ruddering through the air from the cargo dock entrance, taking her sweet time. She looked like any other standard UniMotors model from the last ten years, more bulk and hold-space than graceful lines or pretty flourishes, but Jared felt excitement flash through him at the sight of her anyway. She looked perfect to him. Good girl, he thought. He straightened up as the ship came to a stop by the hold box, touching down. After a long moment, the docking bay door opened and her ramp lowered.

"Evening," said the guy who hopped out. He was tallish, a couple inches shorter than Jared, with green eyes and short brown hair mostly hidden under a cap. Jared pretended like he'd never seen him before.

"Evening," he grunted, keeping with his crotchety guise. “You the second ship for the Viridian Co. shipment?”

"That’s me,” said the man, mouth stretching into a polite smile. “Got my verification right here if you need to see it,” he added, patting the commpad under his arm. Jared held out his hand wordlessly and pretended to scrutinize it, eyebrows drawn down low with concentration.

“Looks fine,” he said, roughening his voice to sound grudging and passing the thing back. His own commpad beeped once with the alarm he’d set, and he scratched his ear in the thirty seconds signal. “You got a place to strap this box down, sir?”

“I do--and I hate to ask this of you, but do you think you could help me secure the straps?” The man scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “My second ran off last time we were planetside, and I haven’t had a chance to replace him yet... “ His eyebrows were raised in a hopeful expression, and his hands clasped in the Sector 2 gesture of respect.

Jared made a show of narrowing his eyes and sighing for anyone who might be watching, then nodded and went to punch some controls on the cargo box. It rose into the air and dragged itself slowly into the docking bay of the small ship.

“It’s just this way,” the man said, slipping inside the ship. Jared grinned as one of the info consoles started smoking and beeping behind him on cue. People shouted and came over to look at it, and the cameras above swiveled in alarm--leaving no one paying attention to the two of them. Jared 1, base security negative a million, he thought to himself.

He jogged up the ship’s ramp and into the cargo hold. While the docking bay door slid slowly up and the shouting outside started to taper off, he finished strapping down the huge cargo container, turning on the magnetized locks. By the time he was finished, he knew the smoking console outside would be back to normal, to the puzzlement of the ship docking crew.

When the docking bay had completely sealed them in, he sagged in relief and triumph, whooping out loud. He smacked the comm link on the wall. "Game, set, match!” he crowed. “We taking off right now, or should I come upstairs?"

A chuckle filtered through the comm link. “Don’t get cocky, asshole. We still have to get out. Just wait there a sec--I see someone else taking off, so I think we’re okay to space. Hold on to something, you know the drill."

Jared dutifully grabbed one of the bars installed in the walls, and a moment later, the whole ship lurched upward and forward. Jared held his breath at each of the airlock checks, but they made it through without incident with the same stolen codes that had gotten them in. No one at the base knew there was any reason to be suspicious yet, after all. Jared pumped his fist as they went through the final lock, and the starry vastness of space spread out before them. They’d made it.

"Okay," the comm link crackled, "now you can run up before I hit the drive. But hurry up."

Grinning, Jared took the stairs two by two, coming up into the kitchen. He could still feel the adrenaline pumping through his blood, a giddy rush. He whisked into the cockpit, plopping into the copilot's seat and strapping on his seat belt as an afterthought.

"Miss me, honey?" he crooned, reaching over to ruffle Jensen's hair. He was rewarded with an eye roll and a half-hidden grin, Jensen's teeth flashing white in the bright console lights.

"Oh yeah, I really missed that smell," Jensen said, flipping a switch on the control board. "What'd you do, run a marathon while you were down there? Roll around in a pile of convenient wet dogs?"

"Aww, Jensen. Admit it--my pheromones are making you go crazy with lust and you can't bear to be in the same room with me," Jared said, adding a tragic sigh for extra effect. "It's all right. I understand. You just can't control yourself."

“Can’t keep myself from throwing up, maybe. Now will you shut up for a minute? I’m trying to make us disappear,” Jensen groused. He keyed in a couple commands on the mainscreen, and the ship hummed under his hands.

Jared ignored him and leaned over to palm Jensen’s face, stroking so his thumb rested on his cheekbone. "Don't speak, fair maiden," he whispered soulfully; "not a word need pass between us--"

"I will bite your hand, don't think I won't," Jensen said, punching the ship into warp drive. Jared laughed and gave in, pinching Jensen's cheek instead before leaning back to get a good look at the main viewscreen. They watched for a moment as the port-base shrank against the backdrop of stars, a giant mass of twisted silver turning to just another glimmer in the sky.

"Did pretty good today, huh?" Jared teased, lurching a little as the ship jerked fully into warp. "Cloaking device worked awesomely for her first real run, if I do say so myself. No better in the system, I bet you."

"Your modesty is sickening," Jensen told him, shaking his head. Jared caught the indulgent smile curling the corners of his mouth, though. "Yeah, it worked all right, blah blah, everyone worship the great and magical Jared, we owe you our lives, etc. etc. Now get out of here and take that damn shower, before you draw a pack of bloodhounds onto us. And ditch the creepy uniform."

"Cruelty, thy name is Jensen!" Jared lamented, pretending to swoon with sorrow. "Banished to the depths of the dark ship!"

"So cruel."

"So cruel, man. The cruelest of them all." Jared unbuckled his straps and headed out, pretending to hang his head. He heard a "Hey, Jared!" not a second later.

"Yeah?" Jared stuck his head back around the cockpit door.

Jensen gave him a real grin over his shoulder. "The cloaking device was awesome. She looked just like one of those ugly UniMotors junkheaps. It was perfect. Couldn't have done it without you, Chief Engineer."

Jared grinned back, warmth blooming in his chest. "Thanks, Jensen."

He popped out again, shaking his head fondly. That was Jensen for you--all dark, whip-sharp sarcasm until he dropped it to be a good guy and the best friend Jared had ever had. Jared knew most people who knew Jensen probably thought that the silent, serious front they saw for trading was all there was to him, but Jared knew better. Jensen was a great actor--you had to be, in their business.

Beneath his feet, the ship purred. "You did a good job today," he told her, looking up at her hall lights. "Cut through space like butter. Atta girl! I'll work on making the entrance smoother, okay? Don't like to think of you being jerked around so much." He patted her side and slipped into the bathroom.

The ship was Jensen's in deed and title, but she was at least half Jared's by now if you counted all the work he'd done on her. Her first name had been Stellar Rose of New Texas III, and Jensen had picked her up out of a tow lot, totaled. Some rich kid's sweet sixteen present from the eighties, no doubt about it: her base was a Gammanite pleasure cruiser with an added gun turret, perfect for protecting Daddy's little treasure from kidnapping. When she first came into Chad's shop, she was a mess. Windows broken, paint scraped off, frame twisted like a giant had crumpled her up and tossed her to the other end of the planetary system. So of course Jared got stuck with her.

He snorted as he stripped off the green pilot suit and stepped into the shower. He could still remember how much he'd wanted to tell Chad he wasn't taking that assignment, no way no how. Chad always gave the really shitty jobs to Jared, "because I know you can handle 'em, man." Jared was really supposed to be working on the fancier things, like reprogramming GNC and upgrading warp drives, but he needed to keep the job badly, so he mostly just did whatever work Chad tossed his way.

He and Chad had grown up together, and Chad had done him a huge favor when he came back from the University. No one else wanted a dropout from the town of Santa Marina working for them, especially not in their shiny new ships, because everyone knew people from that backwater weren't to be trusted. Jared's lip curled. He still hated people with that attitude. Some jerks thought if you weren't from a major city or Sector 1, you weren't fit to be dirt on someone's shoe. That was one of the things he loved about this job. You got to get the assholes where it really hurt them: their wallets. He smirked as he thought of the sweet haul lying in the cargo hold.

He'd been lucky to be eking out a living in the shipyard Chad had inherited from his father back then. Of course Jared hadn't wanted that when he set out, but hey, you took what you could get. When he'd been younger, he'd really thought things would be different. When he was little, he'd sit in his family's patch of backyard every night, watching flashes of shiplight streak through the sky and thinking, Yeah, that's gonna be me some day, with that heavy kind of certainty you have as a kid.

He'd hung the thought off his heart like an anchor, comforting and true. Getting off-planet was something people only talked about in Santa Marina, but he was going to do it, he really was. It didn't matter if it took him years to save up and get the ticket. He was going spaceside someday.

He'd memorized constellations and the specs of a thousand different kinds of ships, changing his mind every day about which ones he was going to fly and build. The thought had kept him going through lot of shit he still didn't like to think about. He'd spent his nights studying hard and his days going to school and working to save money, and somehow he'd managed to get into the University of Nueva Tierra.

Nueva Tierra was the planet New Texas was moon to, and the capitol planet of Sector 2. Jared had barely been able to believe his acceptance letter. The engineering program at UNT was the best in the Sector, hands down, and sometimes people from there got accepted to Central Base in Sector 1 for grad school or work after. He'd grinned for days, carrying the bright silver knowledge that he had a future under his skin.

For a while, it had looked like maybe everything was going to work out. He'd done well in his classes and managed to scrape together enough money to pay tuition, working nights in the tiny Roshanian restaurant below his dormblock. He'd loved the city, Ciudad Verde. Everything was different. The buildings stretched up to kiss the stars, and there was always something going on--music making the walls shake a few blocks down, a light show in the nearby skypark, another shuttle launch.

Jared had loved those best. People were always going somewhere. It wasn't like Santa Marina, where you could read the stuckness in people's eyes, the dull old hopes in the lines of their faces. No one felt they had a chance there, where Ciudad Verde was built of chances. Jared had staked his own life on that.

Then everything had all fallen apart with the tuition raises. His dreams were crushed by a stupid little notice in his commpad inbox.

Jared could still feel the shock of it resonating years later, a laser cut down his chest peeling him right apart. He'd stood looking at that notice for so long when he'd gotten it, breathing hard and willing the words to morph into something else, anything else. He was already stretched to his bones trying to pay for school and food and have a little left over to send home. There was no way he could handle more. He'd gone to the registrar, gone to the dean, gone to the banks--gone to anyone he could, begging, pleading, frustration numbing his tongue when yet another person turned him away. There'd been no way out.

So he'd gone back to New Texas, and there he was, fixing the crappiest ships known to humankind, most of them illegal. Chad got him every time with the patented Best Friend Guilt Trip. "Trust you more'n half these kids, Jaybird," he would say, tossing Jared the specs on a new project of horror. "I know you won't let me down." And then he would bring out that stupid puppy dog look that made Jared roll his eyes and throw greasy rags at him--the exaggerated pouty lip, the fluttering blond eyelashes. Even so, somehow he still ended up with the rust buckets every time. Him and his stupid loyal heart.

Which led to The Stellar Rose of Texas III--this ship that had definitely gasped its last three or four years ago, and was almost falling apart under Jared's fingertips. He'd been in his workshop, just starting to tally the damage, when a guy had come in at the back. Jared barely glanced at him. He was trying to figure out where to even start. Then the guy came up behind him, and Jared felt his hackles raise. They didn't often get people trying to scam them, but every now and then...

"Can I help you?" he asked, turning to smile his friendliest smile and show off his intimidating shoulders.

"Oh, she's my ship," the guy said, ducking his head. His smile when he met Jared's eyes was sheepish. "Sorry, I know it's kind of weird to come by here like this, but--I just had to look at her again. I got her just two days ago. She's the first ship I've owned all to myself." His eyes strayed back to the ship, and his smile widened into a delighted grin, like he still couldn't believe it.

A pilot, then, Jared thought, working on some kind of crew. He clearly got to go spaceside as much as he wanted, and had made enough to buy a ship. Jared didn't even want to think about how much money that was. Buying Santa Marina would be cheaper. He pushed down on an ache of envy that wanted to flare up. "Congratulations," he said instead.

"Thanks," the guy said, stepping closer. At this distance, Jared could see a dusting of freckles on his nose and cheeks. His eyes were lit up with excitement. "I can't wait to see what you do with her. Looking forward to giving her a new name, too--I hate names like that." He nodded his chin at the frilly cursive lettering dancing across the ship's side.

Jared snorted. "Why'd you pick her up, then?"

"Can't hold a name against a good ship, can you?"

"Hate to break it you, man, but this thing's a piece of shit right now," Jared said without thinking about it, flicking a cracked piece of glass off the ruined leather seats. He winced almost the minute he said it, opening his mouth again to apologize--fuck, this was a paying customer--but the guy was throwing his head back and laughing like he'd been surprised into it, loud and joyful. Jared felt a grin of his own sneak up onto his face.

"Them's fighting words," said the guy, eyes crinkled at the corners. "Do we have to go out back so I can pound an apology out of you?"

Jared laughed and held his hands up. "Nah. I take it back. Man, what was I thinking? She's clearly a diamond in the rough. Gonna race with the best of 'em someday, huh?"

"Damn straight she is. I'm Jensen, by the way." He held out his hand.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Jared, and I'll be polishing your diamond." Jensen laughed again, and they shook hands--a good, solid shake.

Jensen started showing up during the days. He said he was working a night job, and Jared didn't mind much if he sat around while Jared worked. Jensen always looked so happy to see his ship, his face bright and open like a little kid's when her frame came into view, and Jared just didn't have the heart to tell him to go away.

He wished he had feelings that simple right now. He felt stupid and slow for still being so mixed up about University months later, but there it was: everything was stained by the feeling that this wasn't where he was really supposed to be. His parents were happy to have him home, but he couldn't shake the conviction that he didn't fit there anymore, feet hanging off the metaphorical bed of his childhood and head brushing the ceilings. He was bored and he was tired. He woke up, he went to work, he drank with Chad or he went home to sit in the dark and read serials--his life was dead end after dead end after dead end, and he itched to change it but didn't see a way how. He was stuck, and Jensen was at least a nice distraction from being a stupid, maudlin idiot, Jared thought.

They got to talking when the tools weren't too loud, just light little stuff, and Jared learned more about Jensen. Middle child, older brother and younger sister like Jared; born on New Texas and off it as soon as he was eighteen.

"How'd you swing that?" Jared asked, pushing out from under the ship to raise his eyebrows at Jensen.

Jensen cleared his throat and squinted out the window, face inscrutable. "Let's just say the job I was doing was less than legal and leave it at that," he suggested, tucking his hands in his pockets. His voice was dark and smooth as velvet, and Jared swallowed at the hints of danger and promise that glittered there. He knew less than legal--hell, Chad's whole shop was pretty much "less than legal"--but the way Jensen said it made Jared's blood race. It sounded like he'd gone places. Jealousy and longing curled like smoke in him, but he didn't want to push, so he changed the subject.

They talked about all the planets they wanted to see while Jared had pulled Stellar Rose inside out and built her back up again. A job like that took a solid two months just for the shell, and four for the custom programming of her system. Jensen spent the whole of it in Santa Marina, whiling his days away with Jared and working nights driving shuttles a couple towns over. They started hanging out outside of work, too--catching a gravball game, drinking with Chad and his buddies, hanging out in the only movie theater in town making fun of the Old Earth reels under their breath.

Without meaning to, Jared found himself spending more time with Jensen than just about anyone. It got to be that Jensen was the person he looked forward to seeing the most on any given day. Jensen was someone you could tell just about anything, and he would really listen, too, those green eyes focused with a heady intensity on you as you spoke.

"I went to university," Jared found himself admitting a couple weeks before Jensen's ship was done. They were in the back of Sal's burger place, down to the dregs of a plate of fries. Jared pushed a burnt one through the ketchup pile, drawing a clumsy star. "Ship engineering. S'why I'm programming your ship myself."

Jensen whistled, leaning back in his chair and shaking his head. "Fuck. You mean this whole time I've had a college grad fixing my ship? Man, what're you doing with Chad? You could have a big ole fancy lab all to yourself by now, prob'ly. Hard worker like you."

Jared snorted. "Maybe. If I'd graduated.”

"Yeah?" Jensen's face softened. "What happened?"

Jared shrugged and looked down at the table, scraping his star into nothing. "Oh, you know. They got rid of the scholarship. About a year now, when was passing out cuts like candy." He glanced at Jensen's face, and felt a little gratified at the anger he saw there in the twisted mouth and narrowed eyes. "They wanted me to sell my soul for loans, basically. And I just--it felt impossible. Not the good kind of impossible, where you're like, yeah, I wanna fight this, but the kind where it seems smarter to turn around instead of getting your face blown off."

He shrugged and looked down, adding a comet tail to his ketchup star. "They would've had to mortgage the house to even get me on the loanlist, my family. And they said they would, but I said--bullshit. Fuck that, you know?" If his voice shook a little, he didn't care. "No piece of paper is worth putting people you love through that. I wanted to get off-planet, see the stars, yeah--but not enough to sell my family for it."

There was a moment of silence, and Jared's guts squirmed with shame. Awful thoughts he’d been keeping at bay skittered through his head. He was a university dropout stuck in his hometown and going nowhere fast; what kind of friend was he for someone like Jensen, who'd probably been all the way across the system, who’d probably seen half the stars in the sky up close? Then Jensen leaned forward and tapped his fist against Jared's clenched hands gently. “Hey,” he said. Jared blew out a slow breath.

"Hey," Jensen repeated when Jared looked up, mouth tilted in a crooked smile. "I think that makes you one of the best men I know. So here's a toast--to people who know a piece of paper doesn't mean anything about how much you're worth." He stole one of Jared's fries and whacked it against Jared's before popping it into his mouth, quirking his eyebrows. "Cheers."

"You just did that to steal my fry," Jared grumbled, but Jensen's words slid deep under his skin like cool water, soothing old hurts and doubts. His heart felt like it was glowing in his chest.

"Doesn't mean it's not true," Jensen said, grinning impishly. His eyes, though, were dark and serious. Jared found out just how serious a couple of days later.

He'd finished Jensen's ship off with a growing sense of restlessness, frustration itching up in his throat and buzzing in his legs so that all he wanted to do was run. A finished ship meant Jensen would be heading out, and Jared didn't really want to think about what that would mean for his own life. He and Jensen had spent every day together for six months, and now that was all about to blow away like a tumbleweed. Chad was his best friend, and Jared loved him like a brother, but... Whenever thoughts like these wandered into Jared's mind, he'd frown and shake his head, and force himself to concentrate on the ship. He didn't really want to think about any of it, so he thought about acceleration and in-ship grav and comm systems instead.

The ship had completely transformed. She was sleek and strong now, no scars from her old collision marring her hull. She was built to last and fly fast: a compact little bolt of power that would zip and slice through the skies. Two tiny bedrooms, a kitchen, and a cockpit on the first level, and a cargo hold big enough to fit enough loot to make any smuggler happy on the bottom level. Jensen hadn't outright said he was a smuggler, of course, but Jared had figured it out. Anyone who wanted that much cargo space in a ship this size couldn't be a legit shipper.

Accordingly, Jared had gone all out and made her a full-on smuggling vessel. Every nook and cranny could be filled with contraband, and there were a bunch of ingenious hideaways he hadn't even told put in the blueprints. He'd painted the whole ship black to blend in with the vacuum of space--with a row of lights Jensen could flick on with his distress call if he ever needed to be found, of course--and put in a new motor for speed and a reinforced hull for protection. If there had been an opportunity to make something better, Jared had leaped on it. When there'd been nothing left to improve upon, he'd carefully painted her new name on her side in white: Rosie.

Jared thought she was probably the best work he'd ever done. The day he showed her final paint job to Jensen, he couldn't quite make his smile feel real.

"--and that's just about everything," he said, finishing up the cockpit tour. He waved dully at her main screen, hand flopping to his side. "She's spaceworthy. I had someone test out her maneuverability in a suit, and she's perfect, according to them." He bit his lip. "So... guess you'll be shipping out as soon as you pay Chad, huh?"

He tried not to sound like the little kid getting left out of the adventure, but his guts were tying themselves in knots and a thick lump of misery stuck in his throat, making his words sound wavery and thin. He cleared his throat and hoped Jensen hadn't noticed.

Jensen was still looking at Rosie's controls, stroking a reverent hand down a row of switches. "Jared, she's gorgeous," he said, awe palpable. "Man, I never thought she could look like this. I mean, I knew she was special, but--" He brushed his thumb over the leather of the pilot's seat and shook his head, eyes wide. "This is perfect. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Jared said, biting his lip over a small smile he couldn't help.

"Thank you," Jensen said again. He turned to Jared and clapped him on the shoulder, beaming hugely. "Man, I don’t know what to say, except... would this be a good time to ask you if you want to be part of the crew?"

Jared's breath caught in his chest. He blinked at Jensen. "Huh?" he managed.

Jensen’s grin widened further, crow’s feet blooming at the corners of his eyes. "I need someone a mechanic to keep up maintenance on her," he said. "I'm good with flying, trajectories, you know, that stuff, but I can't fix her if something goes badly wrong because of something idiotic I did. And I need a copilot, too." He raised his eyebrows hopefully. “I know you wanna see the stars, man--you’ve been telling me so yourself for months. So what do you think?”

Jared stared at him. His brain was still looping over the words, sure he was missing something. "You can't be for real," he said, but it came out like a question instead of the scoff he'd meant it to. “Jensen, people don’t just--do you even know how much tickets to Nueva Tierra are, let alone across the system? And you’re just offering me, what, free passage anywhere, anytime?”

Jensen huffed out a laugh, and his smile uncurled into something more wry. "You do know what I do, right? That I'm a smuggler?" he asked frankly. "You’d be living on the other side of the law if you came with me, way more than you do here with bootleg ship parts and mods." He patted Jared's shoulder and stepped back a little. "It's not like I'd just be doing you a favor, so wipe that shocked look off your face. Hell, it’d probably make more sense for you to go back to the University someday and do it the legal way--and I know you could.” His eyes were bright with earnestness, and he smiled again, fond. “I just know I'd be kicking myself if I didn't ask you. Gotta go with my gut, and my gut is saying that Rosie and I want you on our ship."

"But I can't even fly well," Jared said, chewing on his lip. Something bright and hopeful was winding through his blood at the thought of just taking off and leaving, burning right out of this stuck place with a trail of shipdust barely following and Jensen at his side. It was almost too wild a thought to bear. "I mean, cargo freighters, sure, but a little thing like this--"

Jensen made a face. "Big deal. I could teach you. It's easy. If you know enough to work here, you know the emergency basics, yeah? We can work on anything beyond that."

Jared shook his head in overwhelmed disbelief. This was happening too fast. "Dude," he croaked. "Don't you want the best and brightest serving on Rosie? Not just--" he swallowed. “Not just some kid who only finished school halfway and hasn’t ever been out of his Sector?”

Jensen snorted. "I trust you," he said, like it was a perfect reason, like it was no big deal. Like he had no idea how strong and brilliant and good Jared felt under the sheen of those words. "Besides, best and brightest--Jared, you just built me the best ship this side of the solar system.” He patted Rosie’s side and leaned against her. “I'd say there's no one better."

Jared ducked his head and grinned against his will, warmth prickling all over his skin. "Jensen, okay, that's great, I mean, you're awesome, but--this is crazy," he said.

Jensen just tilted his head back and smiled up at Rosie's star-roof. "You have to be willing to take a few risks when you're in a business like mine," he said. “You saying no? I can give you a day before I gotta head out... “

“No, I--“ Jared hesitated and bit his lip. He ran a hand through his hair and whirled around in the cockpit, pacing to the door and back. "Just, give me a second to think, okay? Man. I was not expecting this.” Too many thoughts were whirling through his head; he pressed his palms to his eyes like he could press the words back.

“Your job before," he mumbled finally, "was it for the rebellion?"

His stomach flipped sickly at the thought. He had to know, though. He’d never asked Jensen before, but he wouldn’t have anything to do with the rebellion. Not after Jeff--no way. It was just too dangerous for normal people.

Jensen knew by now that Jared never wanted to talk about the rebellion, so his voice was soft when he spoke. “No. I was running shipments with Jeff Morgan. He only works with his own crew. He’s no one’s man.”

Jared’s eyes snapped open. “Jeff Morgan?” he demanded, wheeling around to stare at Jensen. “Jeff Morgan?”

Jensen coughed and shot him a guilty look. “Yeah. Up until about eight, nine months ago.”

Jared dropped back against Rosie’s side, shaking his head in disbelief. He knew about Jeff Morgan--everyone on the wrong side of the law did. Jeff Morgan was a man with a sweet smile, an absolute lack of survival sense, and a crew that could get you anything you needed. Seriously, anything. He could bring in supplies from all over the system to just anywhere. Normal stuff, rationed stuff, black market stuff that could fetch you years in stellar prison if you got caught carrying it. Weapons, forged citizdiscs, antimatter...

He looked at Jensen with new eyes. “Is there anything that’d get my family in serious trouble? More than usual, I mean?” he asked, crossing his arms and straightening up. He held Jensen’s gaze steadily. “Because I’m not gonna come if it could hurt them.”

He knew his parents wouldn’t stop him if he wanted to fly off with Jensen--hell, they needed money bad, and it wasn’t exactly like everyone in Santa Marina was squeaky clean. Jared’s dad played pool with a couple of guys who’d robbed a bank few years ago, and his mom’s vid club included a woman who’d ran an underground gambling ring. But that was small stuff on the large scale of things. No one from Sector 1 cared about little crimes like that on a moon in Sector 2, but they just might care about smuggling with a guy who’d run with Jeff Morgan.

“No,” Jensen told him, looking back without flinching. His face was open, honesty clear in his eyes, and Jared felt himself relax a little. “Nothing more dangerous than normal smuggling, anyway. Jeff never took the dangerous stuff with his crew. He did that all alone, and the government and the rebels know it. The only thing they have me on record for is petty crimes--and that’s spread out over two or three aliases.”

“You promise?” Jared found himself blurting out. His face went hot with embarrassment, but Jensen was kind enough not to laugh at him.

“I promise,” he said, hand on his heart. “We’ll just do ship parts and stuff like that, nothing real bad. I just wanna make a living and get to fly. So... are you saying yes?”

Jared cleared his throat. He tried to picture himself just leaving town in this spaceship, Jensen as his only company. Space was dangerous, and he'd only known Jensen a few months, after all. Was this really a risk he wanted to take? Fear and excitement made his stomach roil and his mind swirl. Then he imagined himself here for the next ten years--still working the kinks out of broken-down ships, still doing oil changes, still drinking with the same guys he’d known since he was little. Still stuck two kilometers from where he'd grown up, the same old faces shifting by him on his lunchtime walks and the same old conversations buzzing in his ears.

He raised his head, meeting Jensen's eyes. "You know what, fuck it. Take it," he drawled. A grin spread over his face as joy shivered through him. He felt light, suddenly, like he’d sloughed off a huge load of weight. "Though Chad's gonna kill me.”

Jensen smirked. "Not if we fly fast enough."

And that was that. Chad didn’t kill Jared--he was worried, though, which was sweet. Jared promised to write him every week so Chad would know Jensen hadn’t murdered him in his sleep suddenly. He told his parents and his baby sister that he’d write, too, and though his parents were a little bemused, they let him go with good wishes. He’d grabbed a bag of stuff and met Jensen at the docks, eagerness making him trip up the gangplank. Then Jared was watching his brown and yellow hills disappear as they left his home planet behind in a dizzying rush, the stars swirling around them.

They'd been flying together ever since.

They did a little bit of everything, but Jared supposed if he'd had a real business card--yeah right, he thought, shaking his head as stepped out of the tiny ship bathroom and brought himself back to reality--it would have read Jared T. Padalecki, professional smuggler and jack of all trades. Mostly what they did was get jobs done. That meant smuggling almost all the time, but could also mean forging or impersonation or any number or illegal things. Each job was a different challenge.

True to Jensen’s word, though, no trouble but normal trouble had followed them. They kept mostly to harmless shipments that had some weird or difficult catch to them--ship parts that had to be run across the system three or four times to throw off suspicion, Kyranian snapberry liquor hidden in vidplayers to be delivered precisely at noon, a trousseau covered in contraband Wessex diamonds for the daughter of a nervous government official. The only bounties the two of them had on their heads were the bounties of normal smugglers--Jensen's slightly higher because he'd been smuggling for longer, which he teased Jared about endlessly. Jared checked every week to make sure his parents and Chad weren’t on any lists. So far so good, and they’d been out here for three years, now. He liked to think they were pretty safe. As long as he and Jensen were on Rosie, it felt like nothing could stop them.

Jared shook his head, grinning. Don’t get cocky, he reminded himself--one of Jensen’s favorite sayings, supposedly passed down from Jeff Morgan. Jared doubted that. Jensen just liked to mess with him. He tossed the ridiculous uniform in his closet in case they needed it again, and changed into a pair of loose pants and a t-shirt. Stretching, he padded out to the kitchen in his socks to cobble together a questionable sandwich. A moment later, Jensen came in from the cockpit, and headed to their kitchen storage, yawning widely.

"We golden?" Jared asked.

"Golden," Jensen said, rifling through the shelves. "Halfway out to system's edge by now, and I went around Smithfield Corner just to shake 'em up."

"Fan-see flyer," Jared said. He laughed and caught the protein bar Jensen lobbed at him. "Man, you're gonna have to do better than that."

"You know, one of these days I'm gonna drop your ass on some podunk asteroid and hightail it back to Sector 2 and Danneel," Jensen told him, nodding meaningfully at a photograph of a smiling redhead pinned above the kitchen sink. "I know she wouldn't treat me this way."

"Pfft, nobody treats you better'n me," Jared said, tossing the protein bar back. "And if you went back to New Texas now you'd be pining for the stars before you could even kiss her. Face it, you're stuck with me forever, you lucky guy." He winked at Jensen.

"Gods and stars forbid," Jensen muttered. He pulled out a pot and a packet of noodles. "Maybe Danneel would come up here with me, you ever think of that?" He pointed the pot at Jared and raised his eyebrows accusingly.

"But who would reach the high shelves?" Jared asked, putting a finger to his chin mockingly.

"Oh, fuck you," Jensen said, snorting. He filled the pot with water. "We could get a footstool, couldn’t we, Danneel," he mused to the photograph. "Cost less'n feeding Jared does, too."

Jared just laughed again. "Keep dreaming, man," he said, settling back into his sandwich. “If you brought Danneel up here, she’d totally leave you for me. She wouldn’t be able to resist my manly charms.” He pouted his lips and flexed, which earned him rolled eyes and a piece of dried noodle thrown at him. Jared caught it in his mouth. “See? Danneel wants a man with skills, don’t you, Danneel?” he called.

Danneel was Jensen's dream girl and fiancé, who’d been matched with him by VeriMatch Systems ™--“Where your dreams come true.” Jensen had exactly one picture of her and had exchanged a letter a month or so with her for a year and a half, now. Okay, so they’d never actually met, but that didn’t make it less real, Jared thought. In a system as big as this one, proximity had never stopped anyone from falling in love. And maybe Danneel and Jensen weren’t in love yet, either, but that was because they were taking things slow.

Jensen wasn't ready to head back to New Texas--he and Jared both knew that. There was always that nebulous someday when I’ll settle down, though. Jensen and Danneel had a loose promise for that day, which suited them both just fine as far as Jared could tell. They could get to know each other without rushing, so there were fewer surprises when they took that final step.

Jensen owed Danneel to his mom’s nagging. She mom had signed him up for VeriMatch the last time he went home to visit, claiming she wanted grandchildren this century, thank you very much. VeriMatch was perfect for that. It was an outdated program for matching people with their "ideal" genetic matches--strong human beings immune to different diseases than you, so your children would be most likely to survive any kind of disaster or epidemic. Jared thought it was kinda creepy, bordering eerily on eugenics with a happy face sticker pasted on it, but hey, some people bought into that stuff. Jensen sure didn’t; he’d done it to keep his mom quiet, and insisted that finding Danneel had been pure luck. Jared always liked to tease him that it was because she was the only one who wrote him back, but he secretly agreed.

Danneel was a Recent, meaning her family had come to the system on one of the last ships limping away from Old Earth and settled down within the last thirty years. Danneel must have been little, then, because Jared knew she was about Jensen's age. Some people looked down on Recents for being “backwards” or not understanding system customs, but that was clearly bullshit, because Danneel was really sharp. She lived on Cronus, another of Nueva Tierra's three moons, and worked in a factory putting magnetic strips on maglev toys. At night she wrote newspaper articles for a small town paper. And as far as Jared was concerned, she and Jensen were a perfect match.

They both liked to travel and they both wanted kids. They both held the same scathing opinion of the governor of New Texas, who Jared had never paid attention to. Even their frivolous interests matched up: they both loved thriller serials--though they had completely different taste in authors, which led to some vehement disagreements--and they both loved minquine races. (Jared would never, ever understand the appeal of minquine races.) Danneel even liked gravball.

It was sweet, watching the way Jensen would smile every time he got a new letter from her. Jared didn't read the things out of respect, but he knew they were practically novel-sized. They made sure to stop by the mailbox where they were dropped at least once a month, and Jared loved watching the way Jensen’s eyes lit up when he saw he had a message. He liked knowing there was someone out there keeping Jensen happy, just like Jared was.

Jared had only had one girlfriend like that, and it hadn't lasted through the University. He'd had to leave, and Sandy'd managed to stay. It took a week to get to Nueva Tierra on the cheapest tickets from New Texas, and two months of Jared's salary. He made the trip three times before they gave up, weary, lying fully clothed on her tiny dorm bed.

That had been a long time ago now, though he still missed her. They’d stayed friends, but steady communication wasn’t exactly easy when you were trying to hide from the government, and he’d lost track of her a few months ago. He hoped she was doing all right.

Maybe someday he’d find something more lasting. He could find girls to hook up with easily enough whenever he and Jensen took leave planetside, but he knew he wanted more than that, one day. Space distilled wants like that, and made loneliness strong enough to choke on if you weren’t careful. Thoughts like those always stopped when he remembered it would mean going planetside for good, though. Leave space? Leave Jensen and all this? No way. He wasn't ready to put this life behind him. He liked it up here, and he thought he'd settle when he had to, and not before. He had a feeling Jensen was the same way, but it didn’t matter, because there was no rush anyway.

“Danneel wants a man who can cook,” Jensen said, interrupting Jared’s train of thought by plopping a bowl of noodles in front of him. “Which, face it, Jarhead, will never be you.”

“Thanks. And I could learn,” Jared said loftily. He took a sip of the soup and closed his eyes in appreciation. “Okay, I take it back. I could never do what you do. Dude, how does this come from those stupid little noodle packets?”

“Magic,” Jensen told him. “And the ability to not burn hot water or chop my fingers off.”

“That was one time!”

“You’d think for an engineer, you’d have a better handle on this stuff.”

Jared scrunched up his face. “My stuff is so different from water and cooking, it’s on the other end of the system from it! That’s not fair.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Jensen hummed. He grinned at Jared. “Shut up at eat your soup.”

Jared muttered something uncharitable, but the soup was really good, so he couldn’t stay mad for long. He noticed Jensen was reading something on his commpad, his brows furrowed intently. “Whatcha got there?” he asked, slurping up another mouthful.

“You’re gross,” Jensen said absently. He leaned closer to his commpad to peer at something, and Jared wondered if his visual adjustments were malfunctioning again. “You’re gonna laugh at me, but I swear, it's like someone's trying to send me a message through these ads.”

Jared did laugh, throwing back his head. “Dude, are you hearing yourself? You sound like one of your serials. Lemme see.” He reached over and swiped the commpad out of Jensen’s hands. YOU’RE OUR 2332233323323333rd VISITOR! CLICK HERE TO CLAIM YOUR PRIZE!!! it screamed in flashing gold letters above a sea of fine print. Jared snorted and slid it back over the table. “Your millionaire winnings are talking to you, huh? You've been working on those coded customer messages too much. You're seeing things hidden everywhere.” He reached out and flicked Jensen on the forehead.

Jensen raised an eyebrow. “You say that now, but just wait until I decode the message about shut the fuck up and a monster’s going to eat you?”

“If you actually find that in a coded message, I’ll give you twenty galdrets,” Jared said, grinning. He blinked in surprise as a yawn overtook him. “Guess the adrenaline’s wearing off,” he went on, stretching his hands high over his head. “What timezone are we in now, anyway? You gonna need me to take a shift in the cockpit?”

“Hell if I know and no, respectively,” Jensen said, giving in and pulling out his specs to slip over his eyes. "I'm gonna put her on auto for a couple hours, headed toward Echo Base, after I send Tien the message that we have his cargo." He peered up at Jared through the specs. “You might as well go to sleep if you’re tired.”

"I think I’ll do that," Jared said, standing up. “You gonna keep working on that mystery message?”

Jensen’s lips quirked. “Till I prove you wrong? Yeah.

Jared snickered. “Good luck with that,” he said. “See you on the flipside, Ackles."

He went to sleep the way he always did: watching the stars drift by in warp outside his porthole, the comforting blur of them smoothing his thoughts into dreams.

Part 2