mostly fic
-azarsuerte made a McWeir vid just for me for all the shippers in the fandom, and it's really shiny.
-I think girl!McKay is named Enid.
-and now, fic post.
Title: "Other Addictions"
Fandom: AndromedaxBuffy: The Vampire Slayer
Pairings: Ignatius Valentine/Willow and Rafe Valentine/Beka Valentine
Rating: R
Warnings: Het. Incest.
Spoilers: Through "Grave" in BtVS, "The Ties That Blind" and "The Pearls that Were His Eyes" in Drom
Summary: Ignatius meets the girl of his dreams, Rafe plans the con of a lifetime, and Beka just wants to fly.
Wordcount: 3,650
Notes: I blame cheese_munkey
Other Addictions
1. magic.
Once the world was safe from her again, Willow did one final spell. She had to look it up in one of the books she'd inadvertently destroyed at the Magic Box, but luckily, it seemed that Giles's flat in Bath had just as many arcane and dark volumes as the library had had. Like he had a paper backup of every single book he'd ever read. So there it was. Time travel. Never, ever mess with time travel. Tara had said it. Giles had said it. She'd learned it pretty well herself when she tried to retrieve Anya's locket and ended up meeting her own evil twin.
But really, with Tara gone, with her own morality just tossed out the window, with everything gone, there wasn't much more wrong that things could go. It didn't get much worse than this.
So she cast the spell. It was the one thing that she could be patient about. Every herb, every syllable, everything in its proper place. She could feel forces coalescing behind her fingertips, rippling through her whole body. Her head snapped back. "Finito," she whispered. The word was her own, not part of the ritual.
Then the world was gone.
Later, looking through contraband data she'd nicked from a bookseller, she would try to piece together what had gone wrong. How the combination of stellar drift and way too much power and no control whatsoever had caused serious disturbances in, well, just about every continuum there was. Which was how she'd ended up stranded in a future so shitty even she wouldn't have caused it, not even when she was at her lowest point. She had wanted to end life, yeah, but to end it, once and for all, not to leave it lingering, slowly crawling through the muck and slime of a damaged universe, struggling desperately to survive. This future was worse, far worse, than any apocalypse, because this world, these worlds, dozens, hundreds of inhabited worlds, hadn't died when hope had.
The worst part was that the magic was gone.
She wasn't sure if it was just gone from her or if it was gone from the universe as a whole. Sure, people were familiar with magic, but the Wayists thought it was a metaphor and the planetside preachers thought it was a con, and no one talked about it the way Tara had, the way she knew it to be: part of the very fabric of the universe, a tool most potent and destructive. Of course, you didn't want a tool like that in the hands of people like this, but it would have been kind of nice, once in awhile, to have it in her hands. Like when she was almost raped, or when she had the last of her possessions stolen.
It was a nasty, horrible, cruel world.
2. sex.
It was a world Ignatius Valentine loved. He loved the air, artificial, steadily pumped into way stations and drifts through huge ducts that stank, covered with graffiti, always good for an unplanned getaway. The air smelled dirty, but not like the air on planets did, muddy and diseased. This air reeked with the filth of lust and greed and alcohol. Ignatius adored it. He gulped the oxygen. It was lifeblood.
He loved weightlessness, and he loved artificial gravity more. He loved that people could still be held to their patches of land, or their hunks of metal, or their corner of an asteroid, when their bodies wanted to float into nothingness. He loved all of it.
"Sentimental claptrap, Valentine. Sentiment is dead in this world of ours."
"Sid. Please. Sentiment is alive and well. Look at those Than over there. Look at that Uber. Look at this whole damned bar."
"Sex and drugs and money. That's all they want. That's all anyone's ever wanted. That and power."
"Ah, Sid, but they're vital. They're breathing--well, most of them are--and sweating and coveting."
"And when they covet..."
"We've got them covered," said Ignatius with a wink. They weren't here to talk philosophy; they were here to strike a deal with a one-armed man who was supposed to be at the bar. Instead, there were only a badly malfunctioning AI and a lonely redhead, human, young, and female.
Ignatius slipped Sid the flexie with the contact information about their elusive contact, shot him a knowing look, and wandered over to the bar. He smiled his most seductive smile, and the lonely-looking redhead smiled wanly. "So, you wanna sleep with me too, huh? I've already been hit on five times this evening."
"And what about yesterday evening?"
"Yesterday evening? I was on a planet where the inhabitants mostly napped all day. It kind of reminded me of Xa-of an old friend of mine. So I left." She paused. "Why don't you leave now too?"
"I've just got one question."
"Yes?"
"How old are you?"
That inspired a long, bitter laugh.
"Okay... are you older than sixteen?"
"Yeah. Lots older."
"Oh good. I don't like to buy drinks for girls younger than my daughter."
3. money.
"Rafe, can I help?"
"Bek, for the tenth time, no."
"Rafe, c'mon, you can use me."
"Is that a promise?"
"No, seriously, whatever it is you're planning, you can't pull it off alone. This has got to be a two-man job, and I'm your man."
"Beka, you're a girl."
"A woman."
"A woman," Rafe conceded. "You still aren't helping me bootleg Dad's 'med supplies'. That's drug stuff. Dad doesn't want you involved with that."
"You mean, you don't want me claiming my share of the loot."
Rafe said nothing and Beka knew that meant she had won.
"Fine. You can have your money. I just want to help."
Rafe's eyes lit up, but he played it cool. He was working on his poker face five nights a week. The other two nights, the nights Dad was home, he spent in Beka's quarters. "Okay, you can help. But you have to do exactly what I say."
"Why would I do that when I'm so much better at planning?"
"Because I'm so much better at making plans that Dad can't figure out. That's why I'm Valentine Smarter."
Beka seethed but knew it was true. She was too much like her father: willful, extravagant, heart on her sleeve sentimental. He could see through her in a minute. Rafe was different, and that gave him an edge.
4. alcohol.
Willow considered going to bed with him. She'd coolly evaluated everyone who'd hit on her, male and female, bipedal and otherwise, and in the end she'd felt a sick sensation in the stomachy parts of her body that reminded her of what it was like when Tara kissed her. Happy floatiness. (Like a root beer float? No. More like a Rose Bowl float. Or like floating in the pool on the first day of summer, when it's all cold? It's like every kind of floating...) She tried to smush the memory down inside her, but it kept on rising to the surface whenever someone said, "Say, what's a nice girl like you...?"
There wasn't really anything different about the man in front of her. He was wearing a jumpsuit and smiling seductively. She drank something foul tasting that her body probably couldn't tolerate but that seemed like a better alternative than feeling.
The corners of his mouth pointed upwards, and he drank as if he knew what he was doing.
"Just out of curiosity, why do you want to, you know, take me home with you?"
He shrugged a shoulder and knocked back another gulp of the brownish drink. "You're pretty, you're young, you're a natural redhead. Do I need more reasons?"
"You know, with that kind of attitude, you'll end up fathering lots of kids who won't have any father."
"Only two," he said, moving his arm away from her. "And I try the best I can."
"Oh."
"If you come back with me, you can meet them."
"Right," said Willow. "I've never heard that one before, actually. Mostly because most of the people I even consider having sex with aren't old enough to be fathers, period, let alone my father."
(I'll take care of everything. Don't worry. I can't stop worrying. It's this great big glob of worry all inside of me, where the magic was. It's just worry central station in here... Willow. Please let me take care of it. I feel so responsible. It wasn't your fault. It can't've been your fault.)
"Oh, well, to each her own." He didn't move though. She stared at his beaker.
"If I agree to come back to your ship, will you buy me a drink?"
"Oh, all the drinks in the bar, for the prettiest girl in the room."
"You can stop doing that. I'll come with you," she said, knowing she was starting to whine. She was exhausted.
"Ah, but my dear girl, I live to flirt."
"Well, that's good, I suppose. Having a purpose in life."
5. flying.
Dad came home with his hands and wallet empty and with another woman. She walked like she wasn't used to zero g and looked at the Maru like it was hardly worth setting foot in. Beka stared at her with hatred for a minute, then got her bearings. When flying, distraction, even for a second, could cause serious pilot error, and that could lead to death or, worse, flying the Maru into space junk and someone needing to shell out for a repair job. She had to stick to the plan.
"Hey, Rocket. Rocket, this is Willow. Willow, Beka."
"Hey." She shrugged her shoulders at the redhead. "Rafe's in his quarters," she lied. "Where's Sid?"
"Stayed on the drift to see if our guy showed up. If it's a no show, that's another net loss."
"Are you going to be busy all night?" Beka asked, glancing at Willow. "Or have you got a minute?"
"For you, two minutes," he said, walking over to her to get his hug. "What do you need? I don't have any presents. Money's tight and... "
"Yeah, I know. I was thinking maybe flying lessons?" Beka was too skilled for lessons and had been for years, but Dad liked to teach her and sometimes, that was leverage.
"Sure. Willow can watch," he said, smiling. "Sure we won't wake Rafe if we 'stream?"
"He's a big boy, Dad. If he wakes up, he can eat with us."
"Ah... We already ate." Drank, he meant. "You can have dinner later. Get the ship to make you something."
"Sure." A pilot is emotionless. She feels nothing but the stream. Her only companion is her ship.
They found their way into the control room, Willow squeezing into the seat that Beka and Rafe had shared when they were space brats. Her father rested a hand on Willow's shoulder.
"Prussia Major. Three jumps there, three back."
"I can do that with my eyes closed. Twice."
"All right... where do you want to go?"
"I don't know. Someplace tricky."
"How about the Golden Gate? Lots of tricky flying in the asteroid belt between Guadeloupe and The Three Anchors."
Beka thought about it, had the computer pull up a slipstream map, and smiled. "Sure. That could work." Three hours with minimal breaks, and she could make it take longer, which was, of course, was the plan. But it would require something that Beka hated, hated, hated doing.
She would have to fly badly. On purpose.
6. adventure.
Rafe sat cross-legged on Beka's bunk. Probably not wise, since if she pulled it off (and he still wasn't counting on her having the gumption), he'd probably end up rolling off the bunk and hurting his head, but risk was the name of the game. Risk, and smarts. Valentine Smarter, because he could fool even Dad.
A 'stream and a pause, a 'stream and a pause. He'd grown up on this rhythm. Hell, if he'd actually been asleep, he would have dreamed of this rhythm. He'd never wanted to learn to fly, not the way Beka did. Rafe just wanted to get from one place to another. Another 'stream, and then a horrible lurch, and he was, sure enough, rubbing his injured head. He shrugged philosophically, silently thanked Beka for doing her part, snatched another one of his sister's music discs to add to his growing collection, and hoisted himself to the ceiling, where there was a short passage that passed into the cargo bay.
Rafe sometimes wondered if Dad hadn't put that passage there just so they could rip him off.
He had to pray that Beka hadn't broken the slipstream drive. She did that far too often, and it meant having Dad right next to his quarters, puttering around with the drive, showing Beka exactly how to fix it. "Hire a mechanic," Beka would say, and Dad would say, "Nah, too expensive," and then it would begin again. And they'd both be too busy to play poker, but too attentive for him to pick their pockets.
This time, though, the drive was intact, but it would take them at least half an hour to figure out where they were and how to get out of there. Which meant that Beka had come through, right on schedule.
He almost felt bad about nabbing the discs.
It wasn't much of a con, but it was one they hadn't pulled before. The cargo bay was almost empty but there, in the far corner, were the med supplies that Rafe knew Dad and Uncle Sid were using to make flash. He shivered. Flash gave him the creeps, and not just because of the fryers he'd seen at dirty planetside bars. Beka may not want to admit it, but flash was Dad's livelihood, and Rafe didn't like the idea of risking your whole life, your whole principle, on a couple of drops of chemicals. He much preferred depending on his own intelligence and guile and gumption.
7. redheads.
Ignatius glared at Beka. Stupid brat had broken the ship. Again. "Computer? Slipstream drive online?"
"Yes," said the Maru. "Slipstream drive fully functional."
"Dammit." He kneaded his fingers into Willow's shoulders. "Run a full diagnostic and call me in the morning," he growled. When the ship complied, he turned his full attention (except for his hands, still massaging Willow) to Beka. "What was that?"
"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I got cocky."
"Damn right you got cocky," he said, preparing a lecture. But the look on Beka's face, her utter mortification, made his anger dissipate. "Go back to your quarters. I'll fly us back once the ship figures out why the hell it's not moving."
"Dad, I could help, I could..."
"Please," he said, and with a sigh, she relinquished the pilot's seat. Ignatius kissed her forehead and watched with mingled pride and disappointment as she went off to sulk in her quarters.
"She's nice," said Willow, speaking for the first time since she'd come on board. "I think you really hurt her feelings."
"Beka's young, and she's living in a tough world. Harder they come, the harder it is to break them. I don't want Beka broken."
Willow looked at him, then sighed. "Are we going to do the sex thing?"
"Do you want to? I'm sure the ship won't mind - it's seen worse."
"Like what?"
"This time my partner, Sid, had twelve Chichin strippers in the cockpit as a birthday present for me. Ship was so upset it wouldn't fly straight for weeks."
"I've met Chichins," said Willow, with a half-smile. "And can I say 'eeeugh'?"
"I think Sid was slightly mistaken about my tastes. Only slightly, mind you."
Willow giggled a bit. Good. He was making progress. She was a tricky bird, but he was sure he could have her resistance worn down by the time the ship was back online. Attainable goals and definite plans - that's what cargo running was all about. Heck, that was what life was all about.
"Can I look at the schematics? See if I can figure out what's wrong with her?"
"Eh?" said Ignatius, in a rare moment of genuine surprise. "Don't worry about it."
"It's just, I think I have an idea about what's wrong, and I want to see how well I know your technology."
"Hey, be my guest," he said, slipping her the information. "Just don't damage her. Beka'd kill you. She loves the Maru like it was her momma. More than she'd like her momma, probably. That woman was a real bitch."
Willow nodded, but he could see that her attention had already wandered away from him to his ship. Which he could understand; there were lots of things in the universe, and few of them more fascinating than the Eureka Maru and what, exactly, kept her air-worthy. It was one of the great mysteries of life, like the Slipstream route to Tarn Vedra, or how to keep a redhead in wine and miniskirts on a courier's commission.
"Fixed," she said, and Ignatius realized that while he'd been thinking, she'd been working, fiddling with a few settings, cranking some knobs, and, if he didn't miss his mark, adding another three improbable years to the Maru's lifespan.
"You're good with machines?"
"Computers. I used to be. I kind of got sidetracked lately, but yeah. I can still do machines. Robots. There was once this robot that this guy designed, and I figured out how to fix it, and..."
Ignatius stared at her. The low level desire that had been with him all night was suddenly full-blown need. There was nothing that turned Ignatius Valentine on more than a girl who was both beautiful and also a fucking genius. He stopped her speech with a quick movement of his jaw, his lips pressing hers open. He waited, breathless, for her to respond, then joined his mouth to hers. She tasted like flames.
8. sex again.
Beka, pissed off and deeply shamed, crawled back to her bunk with her metaphorical tail between her legs. The thrill of helping Rafe had worn off; now she just wanted to go to sleep and pretend she hadn't fucked up.
She scratched her head furiously. She was beginning to think that fucking up just wasn't an option. Dad had been so angry, and worse, so disappointed. She wished Rafe wasn't sitting on her bed, smiling gamely, pleased as punch that he'd gotten away with yet another scheme (at least provided Dad didn't catch on, but given the way he'd been looking at the slut, that wasn't really likely.)
"You didn't really need me," she said, angrily. "Dad's so distracted by the bitch that you could steal the ship right out from under him and he wouldn't notice."
"And one of these days, Valentine Smart, that's exactly what we're going to do." He stood up, put his arms around her waist, and spun her around once. "Don't you see? This is just the beginning."
"Do you really want to get rich by ripping off your own father?"
"Babe, I want to get rich however I can," he said with a grin, refusing to put her down until she gave him a kiss, which she finally did, a tentative peck on the tip of his nose. "That's my girl," he said, depositing her on the bed. "Just leave the thinking to me, and I'll leave the flying to you, and between the two of us, we'll take the sector by storm. Hell, we'll take the sector by hook, by crook, by every means possible, whether it's necessary or no. How's that sound?"
"Sounds like Rafe," she said, a laugh brewing in her throat.
"You bet," he said, sitting next to her. "You bet."
She knew she shouldn't. Humans weren't supposed to interbreed with family members because their genetic material was weak. And she wasn't supposed to be helping Rafe to bankrupt Dad, because he was...Dad. You didn't do that sort of thing. It wouldn't be honorable, not by anyone's codes.
But he was Rafe, and he was handsome and smiling and just demanding to be kissed, so she did, sliding herself into his lap, using her tongue like a throttle to get him riled up. She planned to get him up then leave him wanting, like she planned to do every time, but he was too... too demanding, too needy. Their kisses turned to rough caresses and before she could say no, they were fucking again. Valentine Smart and Valentine Smarter.
9. goodbyes.
Ignatius deposited Willow outside the bar where he'd found her. Sid had finally tracked down their contact, who was willing to go twice what he'd initially offered if they could get the shipment there in half the time. Ignatius knew a pilot who could do it, and that pilot was his daughter.
Willow looked at the bar, its glittering lights and its multicolored inhabitants, and considered going back. Then she thought of the Maru, of the feeling of wires bending beneath her fingers, of the computer answering her commands, and she turned away from the bar and went to look for a job.
Back on the Eureka Maru, Beka listened to one of her remaining discs, her feet marking time while she tried to recall whether she hadn't had more music than this a month ago. She toyed with the tiny box of bottles on her lap. She still hadn't decided what to do with the stuff.
Rafe had slipped off as soon as they'd docked, trying to track down his fence, who was shocked and appalled to find that some of the supplies Rafe had promised seemed to be missing.
Rafe stared upwards, apologized to his fence, and muttered under his breath. "Maybe this time, you get to be Smarter. Maybe this time."
-I think girl!McKay is named Enid.
-and now, fic post.
Title: "Other Addictions"
Fandom: AndromedaxBuffy: The Vampire Slayer
Pairings: Ignatius Valentine/Willow and Rafe Valentine/Beka Valentine
Rating: R
Warnings: Het. Incest.
Spoilers: Through "Grave" in BtVS, "The Ties That Blind" and "The Pearls that Were His Eyes" in Drom
Summary: Ignatius meets the girl of his dreams, Rafe plans the con of a lifetime, and Beka just wants to fly.
Wordcount: 3,650
Notes: I blame cheese_munkey
Other Addictions
1. magic.
Once the world was safe from her again, Willow did one final spell. She had to look it up in one of the books she'd inadvertently destroyed at the Magic Box, but luckily, it seemed that Giles's flat in Bath had just as many arcane and dark volumes as the library had had. Like he had a paper backup of every single book he'd ever read. So there it was. Time travel. Never, ever mess with time travel. Tara had said it. Giles had said it. She'd learned it pretty well herself when she tried to retrieve Anya's locket and ended up meeting her own evil twin.
But really, with Tara gone, with her own morality just tossed out the window, with everything gone, there wasn't much more wrong that things could go. It didn't get much worse than this.
So she cast the spell. It was the one thing that she could be patient about. Every herb, every syllable, everything in its proper place. She could feel forces coalescing behind her fingertips, rippling through her whole body. Her head snapped back. "Finito," she whispered. The word was her own, not part of the ritual.
Then the world was gone.
Later, looking through contraband data she'd nicked from a bookseller, she would try to piece together what had gone wrong. How the combination of stellar drift and way too much power and no control whatsoever had caused serious disturbances in, well, just about every continuum there was. Which was how she'd ended up stranded in a future so shitty even she wouldn't have caused it, not even when she was at her lowest point. She had wanted to end life, yeah, but to end it, once and for all, not to leave it lingering, slowly crawling through the muck and slime of a damaged universe, struggling desperately to survive. This future was worse, far worse, than any apocalypse, because this world, these worlds, dozens, hundreds of inhabited worlds, hadn't died when hope had.
The worst part was that the magic was gone.
She wasn't sure if it was just gone from her or if it was gone from the universe as a whole. Sure, people were familiar with magic, but the Wayists thought it was a metaphor and the planetside preachers thought it was a con, and no one talked about it the way Tara had, the way she knew it to be: part of the very fabric of the universe, a tool most potent and destructive. Of course, you didn't want a tool like that in the hands of people like this, but it would have been kind of nice, once in awhile, to have it in her hands. Like when she was almost raped, or when she had the last of her possessions stolen.
It was a nasty, horrible, cruel world.
2. sex.
It was a world Ignatius Valentine loved. He loved the air, artificial, steadily pumped into way stations and drifts through huge ducts that stank, covered with graffiti, always good for an unplanned getaway. The air smelled dirty, but not like the air on planets did, muddy and diseased. This air reeked with the filth of lust and greed and alcohol. Ignatius adored it. He gulped the oxygen. It was lifeblood.
He loved weightlessness, and he loved artificial gravity more. He loved that people could still be held to their patches of land, or their hunks of metal, or their corner of an asteroid, when their bodies wanted to float into nothingness. He loved all of it.
"Sentimental claptrap, Valentine. Sentiment is dead in this world of ours."
"Sid. Please. Sentiment is alive and well. Look at those Than over there. Look at that Uber. Look at this whole damned bar."
"Sex and drugs and money. That's all they want. That's all anyone's ever wanted. That and power."
"Ah, Sid, but they're vital. They're breathing--well, most of them are--and sweating and coveting."
"And when they covet..."
"We've got them covered," said Ignatius with a wink. They weren't here to talk philosophy; they were here to strike a deal with a one-armed man who was supposed to be at the bar. Instead, there were only a badly malfunctioning AI and a lonely redhead, human, young, and female.
Ignatius slipped Sid the flexie with the contact information about their elusive contact, shot him a knowing look, and wandered over to the bar. He smiled his most seductive smile, and the lonely-looking redhead smiled wanly. "So, you wanna sleep with me too, huh? I've already been hit on five times this evening."
"And what about yesterday evening?"
"Yesterday evening? I was on a planet where the inhabitants mostly napped all day. It kind of reminded me of Xa-of an old friend of mine. So I left." She paused. "Why don't you leave now too?"
"I've just got one question."
"Yes?"
"How old are you?"
That inspired a long, bitter laugh.
"Okay... are you older than sixteen?"
"Yeah. Lots older."
"Oh good. I don't like to buy drinks for girls younger than my daughter."
3. money.
"Rafe, can I help?"
"Bek, for the tenth time, no."
"Rafe, c'mon, you can use me."
"Is that a promise?"
"No, seriously, whatever it is you're planning, you can't pull it off alone. This has got to be a two-man job, and I'm your man."
"Beka, you're a girl."
"A woman."
"A woman," Rafe conceded. "You still aren't helping me bootleg Dad's 'med supplies'. That's drug stuff. Dad doesn't want you involved with that."
"You mean, you don't want me claiming my share of the loot."
Rafe said nothing and Beka knew that meant she had won.
"Fine. You can have your money. I just want to help."
Rafe's eyes lit up, but he played it cool. He was working on his poker face five nights a week. The other two nights, the nights Dad was home, he spent in Beka's quarters. "Okay, you can help. But you have to do exactly what I say."
"Why would I do that when I'm so much better at planning?"
"Because I'm so much better at making plans that Dad can't figure out. That's why I'm Valentine Smarter."
Beka seethed but knew it was true. She was too much like her father: willful, extravagant, heart on her sleeve sentimental. He could see through her in a minute. Rafe was different, and that gave him an edge.
4. alcohol.
Willow considered going to bed with him. She'd coolly evaluated everyone who'd hit on her, male and female, bipedal and otherwise, and in the end she'd felt a sick sensation in the stomachy parts of her body that reminded her of what it was like when Tara kissed her. Happy floatiness. (Like a root beer float? No. More like a Rose Bowl float. Or like floating in the pool on the first day of summer, when it's all cold? It's like every kind of floating...) She tried to smush the memory down inside her, but it kept on rising to the surface whenever someone said, "Say, what's a nice girl like you...?"
There wasn't really anything different about the man in front of her. He was wearing a jumpsuit and smiling seductively. She drank something foul tasting that her body probably couldn't tolerate but that seemed like a better alternative than feeling.
The corners of his mouth pointed upwards, and he drank as if he knew what he was doing.
"Just out of curiosity, why do you want to, you know, take me home with you?"
He shrugged a shoulder and knocked back another gulp of the brownish drink. "You're pretty, you're young, you're a natural redhead. Do I need more reasons?"
"You know, with that kind of attitude, you'll end up fathering lots of kids who won't have any father."
"Only two," he said, moving his arm away from her. "And I try the best I can."
"Oh."
"If you come back with me, you can meet them."
"Right," said Willow. "I've never heard that one before, actually. Mostly because most of the people I even consider having sex with aren't old enough to be fathers, period, let alone my father."
(I'll take care of everything. Don't worry. I can't stop worrying. It's this great big glob of worry all inside of me, where the magic was. It's just worry central station in here... Willow. Please let me take care of it. I feel so responsible. It wasn't your fault. It can't've been your fault.)
"Oh, well, to each her own." He didn't move though. She stared at his beaker.
"If I agree to come back to your ship, will you buy me a drink?"
"Oh, all the drinks in the bar, for the prettiest girl in the room."
"You can stop doing that. I'll come with you," she said, knowing she was starting to whine. She was exhausted.
"Ah, but my dear girl, I live to flirt."
"Well, that's good, I suppose. Having a purpose in life."
5. flying.
Dad came home with his hands and wallet empty and with another woman. She walked like she wasn't used to zero g and looked at the Maru like it was hardly worth setting foot in. Beka stared at her with hatred for a minute, then got her bearings. When flying, distraction, even for a second, could cause serious pilot error, and that could lead to death or, worse, flying the Maru into space junk and someone needing to shell out for a repair job. She had to stick to the plan.
"Hey, Rocket. Rocket, this is Willow. Willow, Beka."
"Hey." She shrugged her shoulders at the redhead. "Rafe's in his quarters," she lied. "Where's Sid?"
"Stayed on the drift to see if our guy showed up. If it's a no show, that's another net loss."
"Are you going to be busy all night?" Beka asked, glancing at Willow. "Or have you got a minute?"
"For you, two minutes," he said, walking over to her to get his hug. "What do you need? I don't have any presents. Money's tight and... "
"Yeah, I know. I was thinking maybe flying lessons?" Beka was too skilled for lessons and had been for years, but Dad liked to teach her and sometimes, that was leverage.
"Sure. Willow can watch," he said, smiling. "Sure we won't wake Rafe if we 'stream?"
"He's a big boy, Dad. If he wakes up, he can eat with us."
"Ah... We already ate." Drank, he meant. "You can have dinner later. Get the ship to make you something."
"Sure." A pilot is emotionless. She feels nothing but the stream. Her only companion is her ship.
They found their way into the control room, Willow squeezing into the seat that Beka and Rafe had shared when they were space brats. Her father rested a hand on Willow's shoulder.
"Prussia Major. Three jumps there, three back."
"I can do that with my eyes closed. Twice."
"All right... where do you want to go?"
"I don't know. Someplace tricky."
"How about the Golden Gate? Lots of tricky flying in the asteroid belt between Guadeloupe and The Three Anchors."
Beka thought about it, had the computer pull up a slipstream map, and smiled. "Sure. That could work." Three hours with minimal breaks, and she could make it take longer, which was, of course, was the plan. But it would require something that Beka hated, hated, hated doing.
She would have to fly badly. On purpose.
6. adventure.
Rafe sat cross-legged on Beka's bunk. Probably not wise, since if she pulled it off (and he still wasn't counting on her having the gumption), he'd probably end up rolling off the bunk and hurting his head, but risk was the name of the game. Risk, and smarts. Valentine Smarter, because he could fool even Dad.
A 'stream and a pause, a 'stream and a pause. He'd grown up on this rhythm. Hell, if he'd actually been asleep, he would have dreamed of this rhythm. He'd never wanted to learn to fly, not the way Beka did. Rafe just wanted to get from one place to another. Another 'stream, and then a horrible lurch, and he was, sure enough, rubbing his injured head. He shrugged philosophically, silently thanked Beka for doing her part, snatched another one of his sister's music discs to add to his growing collection, and hoisted himself to the ceiling, where there was a short passage that passed into the cargo bay.
Rafe sometimes wondered if Dad hadn't put that passage there just so they could rip him off.
He had to pray that Beka hadn't broken the slipstream drive. She did that far too often, and it meant having Dad right next to his quarters, puttering around with the drive, showing Beka exactly how to fix it. "Hire a mechanic," Beka would say, and Dad would say, "Nah, too expensive," and then it would begin again. And they'd both be too busy to play poker, but too attentive for him to pick their pockets.
This time, though, the drive was intact, but it would take them at least half an hour to figure out where they were and how to get out of there. Which meant that Beka had come through, right on schedule.
He almost felt bad about nabbing the discs.
It wasn't much of a con, but it was one they hadn't pulled before. The cargo bay was almost empty but there, in the far corner, were the med supplies that Rafe knew Dad and Uncle Sid were using to make flash. He shivered. Flash gave him the creeps, and not just because of the fryers he'd seen at dirty planetside bars. Beka may not want to admit it, but flash was Dad's livelihood, and Rafe didn't like the idea of risking your whole life, your whole principle, on a couple of drops of chemicals. He much preferred depending on his own intelligence and guile and gumption.
7. redheads.
Ignatius glared at Beka. Stupid brat had broken the ship. Again. "Computer? Slipstream drive online?"
"Yes," said the Maru. "Slipstream drive fully functional."
"Dammit." He kneaded his fingers into Willow's shoulders. "Run a full diagnostic and call me in the morning," he growled. When the ship complied, he turned his full attention (except for his hands, still massaging Willow) to Beka. "What was that?"
"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I got cocky."
"Damn right you got cocky," he said, preparing a lecture. But the look on Beka's face, her utter mortification, made his anger dissipate. "Go back to your quarters. I'll fly us back once the ship figures out why the hell it's not moving."
"Dad, I could help, I could..."
"Please," he said, and with a sigh, she relinquished the pilot's seat. Ignatius kissed her forehead and watched with mingled pride and disappointment as she went off to sulk in her quarters.
"She's nice," said Willow, speaking for the first time since she'd come on board. "I think you really hurt her feelings."
"Beka's young, and she's living in a tough world. Harder they come, the harder it is to break them. I don't want Beka broken."
Willow looked at him, then sighed. "Are we going to do the sex thing?"
"Do you want to? I'm sure the ship won't mind - it's seen worse."
"Like what?"
"This time my partner, Sid, had twelve Chichin strippers in the cockpit as a birthday present for me. Ship was so upset it wouldn't fly straight for weeks."
"I've met Chichins," said Willow, with a half-smile. "And can I say 'eeeugh'?"
"I think Sid was slightly mistaken about my tastes. Only slightly, mind you."
Willow giggled a bit. Good. He was making progress. She was a tricky bird, but he was sure he could have her resistance worn down by the time the ship was back online. Attainable goals and definite plans - that's what cargo running was all about. Heck, that was what life was all about.
"Can I look at the schematics? See if I can figure out what's wrong with her?"
"Eh?" said Ignatius, in a rare moment of genuine surprise. "Don't worry about it."
"It's just, I think I have an idea about what's wrong, and I want to see how well I know your technology."
"Hey, be my guest," he said, slipping her the information. "Just don't damage her. Beka'd kill you. She loves the Maru like it was her momma. More than she'd like her momma, probably. That woman was a real bitch."
Willow nodded, but he could see that her attention had already wandered away from him to his ship. Which he could understand; there were lots of things in the universe, and few of them more fascinating than the Eureka Maru and what, exactly, kept her air-worthy. It was one of the great mysteries of life, like the Slipstream route to Tarn Vedra, or how to keep a redhead in wine and miniskirts on a courier's commission.
"Fixed," she said, and Ignatius realized that while he'd been thinking, she'd been working, fiddling with a few settings, cranking some knobs, and, if he didn't miss his mark, adding another three improbable years to the Maru's lifespan.
"You're good with machines?"
"Computers. I used to be. I kind of got sidetracked lately, but yeah. I can still do machines. Robots. There was once this robot that this guy designed, and I figured out how to fix it, and..."
Ignatius stared at her. The low level desire that had been with him all night was suddenly full-blown need. There was nothing that turned Ignatius Valentine on more than a girl who was both beautiful and also a fucking genius. He stopped her speech with a quick movement of his jaw, his lips pressing hers open. He waited, breathless, for her to respond, then joined his mouth to hers. She tasted like flames.
8. sex again.
Beka, pissed off and deeply shamed, crawled back to her bunk with her metaphorical tail between her legs. The thrill of helping Rafe had worn off; now she just wanted to go to sleep and pretend she hadn't fucked up.
She scratched her head furiously. She was beginning to think that fucking up just wasn't an option. Dad had been so angry, and worse, so disappointed. She wished Rafe wasn't sitting on her bed, smiling gamely, pleased as punch that he'd gotten away with yet another scheme (at least provided Dad didn't catch on, but given the way he'd been looking at the slut, that wasn't really likely.)
"You didn't really need me," she said, angrily. "Dad's so distracted by the bitch that you could steal the ship right out from under him and he wouldn't notice."
"And one of these days, Valentine Smart, that's exactly what we're going to do." He stood up, put his arms around her waist, and spun her around once. "Don't you see? This is just the beginning."
"Do you really want to get rich by ripping off your own father?"
"Babe, I want to get rich however I can," he said with a grin, refusing to put her down until she gave him a kiss, which she finally did, a tentative peck on the tip of his nose. "That's my girl," he said, depositing her on the bed. "Just leave the thinking to me, and I'll leave the flying to you, and between the two of us, we'll take the sector by storm. Hell, we'll take the sector by hook, by crook, by every means possible, whether it's necessary or no. How's that sound?"
"Sounds like Rafe," she said, a laugh brewing in her throat.
"You bet," he said, sitting next to her. "You bet."
She knew she shouldn't. Humans weren't supposed to interbreed with family members because their genetic material was weak. And she wasn't supposed to be helping Rafe to bankrupt Dad, because he was...Dad. You didn't do that sort of thing. It wouldn't be honorable, not by anyone's codes.
But he was Rafe, and he was handsome and smiling and just demanding to be kissed, so she did, sliding herself into his lap, using her tongue like a throttle to get him riled up. She planned to get him up then leave him wanting, like she planned to do every time, but he was too... too demanding, too needy. Their kisses turned to rough caresses and before she could say no, they were fucking again. Valentine Smart and Valentine Smarter.
9. goodbyes.
Ignatius deposited Willow outside the bar where he'd found her. Sid had finally tracked down their contact, who was willing to go twice what he'd initially offered if they could get the shipment there in half the time. Ignatius knew a pilot who could do it, and that pilot was his daughter.
Willow looked at the bar, its glittering lights and its multicolored inhabitants, and considered going back. Then she thought of the Maru, of the feeling of wires bending beneath her fingers, of the computer answering her commands, and she turned away from the bar and went to look for a job.
Back on the Eureka Maru, Beka listened to one of her remaining discs, her feet marking time while she tried to recall whether she hadn't had more music than this a month ago. She toyed with the tiny box of bottles on her lap. She still hadn't decided what to do with the stuff.
Rafe had slipped off as soon as they'd docked, trying to track down his fence, who was shocked and appalled to find that some of the supplies Rafe had promised seemed to be missing.
Rafe stared upwards, apologized to his fence, and muttered under his breath. "Maybe this time, you get to be Smarter. Maybe this time."