Scribbles and Drabbles

Cabin Rat 5

Peter lied about his age. They didn't believe him, but he wasn't 12 either. As long as the information they entered about him into their systems didn't match the truth, he would make it easier to keep hiding. Metal dug into his back as he wedged into the tight space. The Captain refused to move to give him more space, one knee touching his as the Quartermaster admitted they didn't have room for him with the babies. 

"Isn't there a spare bunk in Russ's room?"

"You want to put the runt in with the bully?" Jim checked, pushing a bottle of water into Peter's hand.

Peter took it and sipped. He didn't want to deal with Russ. Russ was a bruiser, not quite an adult, but he'd filled out in most of the right places. He had the shoulders of an adult and the attitude of a jerk face.  

"He's not that bad anymore."

"Only because none of the adults accept the behaviour," Jim snorted, eyeing Peter again. Peter glared and stopped drinking. "Lee could move in with Russ, and we could put him with Eddie? Lee and Russ are well matched."

"If you think that will cause less drama," Captain said, not questioning the man in charge of people's living situations. Eddie seemed nice enough, or rather, Peter didn't know who he was. He knew who the bullies were and who he needed to be wary of. Living in the shafts and vents did wonders for hearing things people didn't want to know. 

"I could continue living in the vents rather than cause an issue."

"Not an opinion," both men said firmly, Jim with a touch more passion than the Caption. "That tracker will let us know if you start crawling in the vents. Don't try it."

"It's safer in the vents. Especially if a bully's going to be mad at me."

Jim didn't hide his wince. "The boys will give you grief for being new and Wilf for so long, but you need to learn to deal with that without being a coward."

Peter sipped his water. 

Captain laughed deeply. Neither man doubted Peter would be up in the vents in a flash if given reason. "Try first, vents second. I don't want the babies to think it's a good idea. We haven't been able to flush them since you came on board. There are reasons we don't want people using them without notice."

"Oh."

"Indeed," Jim nodded in agreement. Peter rolled his eyes. The Quartermaster was happy the Captain found a legitimate excuse. Of course, that also meant they'd choose not to kill him, and Cook wanted him about the hot landing, too. 

It went with how they treated their babies, as they put it. They weren't warm nor babied them but threatened them with a lot more care than some crews Peter saw.

"I have jobs to do."

"Yes, you do," the Quartermaster agreed. "I'll be babysitting Peter until you're done."

It all felt half planned out and half on the spot. There wasn't much else to be said. The looming promise of punishment lingered, but the Captain's fingers curled in the back of his neck and petted him gently. Keeping him calm as he heezed. His chest rattled with it. 

"Be good," the Captain warned, not expanding further. 

He left. Peter shivered cold. The ship's shell dug hard and unforgiving against his hip. The Quartermaster looked over him and rolled back to his monitors to type at them.

Peter didn't know what to do. His hands shook, and he buried them in the overflowing cloth of the stolen t-shirt. The back of his neck itched. He had a chip.

"So, kid. You ever worked on a ship before?"

-x-

Peter hadn't worked on a ship. He'd been theifing and doing odd jobs ever since he wound up lost in the universe and technically in hiding. Most of his skills didn't relate to shipwork for boys his age - which meant the Quartermaster handed him a list of chores that revolved around cleaning. The list included lessons and every set of hands needed to work for their food. Young hands needed training to be useful old hands.