Syzygy

Spica Interlude

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The attacks came fast and hard, after Andra and Cygnus managed to turn one back on itself, and destroyed the ship that came to kill a world.

Whoever they were, the invaders spread the word about their new defense quickly. Almost overnight, the attacks changed from a single driving force, to hard-hitting guerrilla attacks, too sporadic to predict, and devastating.

Of course, now that they had a way to fight back, Cygnus rallied his mercenaries, and began teaching them how to tear apart the world-killers before they managed to connect.

It wasn't all that difficult a process. The basic premise boiled down to: if it looks important, rip it off.

He was exhausted, but there was too much to do, and never enough time to do it in. As one of the leaders, now the leader of the most effective weapons they had, his time was at an absolute premium.

He rarely even had time to see Andra, although their connection was always there, the hum of her thoughts in the back of his mind. He probably could have shielded her out, but after two near-death misses, it was more reassuring than it was irritating.

Besides, he could hear everyone on the ship. At least her thoughts were more ordered than some.

After a long night, and longer day before that, he managed to make it back to his own quarters for some badly-needed sleep. The generals thought that precognition was the answer, and while Cygnus didn't exactly disagree, he also knew the limitations of precognition better than most.

It was useful, but the farther out a vision took place, the less reliable it was.

Sooner or later, one of the precogs would be wrong, and all hell would break loose.

But that was a problem for tomorrow.

He shed his clothes on the way through his room and left them where they fell, too tired to care about the mess. His head was pounding from being in constant contact with his officers all day, and relaying messages as fast as they came in.

The bathroom was small, steel, and simple. The shower was barely big enough for him to fit into it at all, but the relief of warm water on his aching head was more than worth the discomfort.

By the time he got out, the headache was almost manageable, and he was almost too exhausted to stand.

So it was a surprise when he stepped out of the bathroom, towel around his hips, and heard a squeak of embarrassment from his bed.

"I didn't hear you come in," he told Andra as she covered her eyes, cheeks flaming red. Her thought, always whispering at the back of his own, circled into a series of very flattering, and somewhat explicit fantasies regarding his shoulders, and what might be under his towel. He tactfully ignored them, and pulled on a pair of loose sleep pants. "You can open your eyes. I'm decent."

"Sorry," she said, cautiously opening one eye, and then the other as he pulled on a shirt next, old and tattered, but too soft to throw away. "I didn't mean to intrude."

"No, it's fine," he assured her, and fell back on the bed with an arm over his eyes. "If I was listening, I would have known you were out here. Besides, I told you to come in whenever you liked."

"You did," she agreed, and nudged him up until his head was in her lap. "Also, you look like death."

"I feel like death," he agreed, and tried to force the tension out of his neck. He only succeeded somewhat, but every little bit helped. "Are you alright? What brings you here at this hour?"

"You missed lunch and dinner," she explained, and there was a soft rustle somewhere near his bedside table. Whatever it was smelled intriguing, and Cyg's stomach twisted, very offended at how long it had been since he ate anything. "And then you missed breakfast. Open your mouth."

Bemused, he did as she commanded, and was rewarded with a bite of meat, flavored with an odd, but tasty combination of flavors. Next was a bit of mushroom, and then some sort of squash, and Cygnus decided that he didn't care too much about the odd spices, and wondered distantly where Andra got the food. It wasn't the usual offering of the ship cafeteria.

(We engineers have our own little kitchen,) Andra heard his thought and answered as she fed him slowly enough that his stomach had a chance to adjust to a proper meal. With her words came partial memories, glimpses of the ramshackle kitchen, cobbled together by a pack of mechanics who didn't want to leave their work long enough to raid the cafeteria. (We all contribute ingredients, and someone who can cook puts it together. This time is was me.)

(You're a good cook,) Cygnus decided tiredly, and heard her set the empty container aside. (Thank you. I'm probably going to miss breakfast tomorrow too.)

(I'll bring you something,) she assured him, and shifted down the bed until she could snuggle into his side. They hadn't shared a bed before, and Cygnus was certainly too tired for anything more than sleep, but he tucked an arm under her until she was arranged half on top of him, and warm. A thought dragged the blanket over them both. (Am I staying here tonight?)

(I hope you will,) he told her sleepily. Fed and clean, he only had about two more minutes of consciousness before his body just gave out entirely. (This is comfortable.)

(Yes it is,) she agreed, and touched her nose under his jaw with a yawn and a sleepy sigh. (Pass out. I'll wake you when I get up.)

(No you won't.)

(No, I won't.)