Archive of Our Own

Andrew allows himself the luxury of closing his eyes. No one else is trapped in the pod with him to see the momentary weakness, and he could do without the visual of how high above the planet he is or how fast it’s approaching.

Approaching is a tame word. Falling. Falling would be a more correct term. For all the Trigalaxy Union has pushed technology to its limits, and then continued to push, it still favours gravity-assisted re-entry pods for one way trips. Or, when not using fancy words to disguise reality: falling claustrophobic death traps.

In an unsurprising turn of events, the TGU didn’t want to expend any more resources than necessary on Andrew, getting him stuck with old tech, no escort, no trained pilot, and no gentle landing. He wasn’t even given an AI piloted device. Andrew takes a vindictive satisfaction that they had to fork out the money for the Planet In Ignorance security measures, even if it won’t make any type of noticeable dent in their wealth.

The world brightens behind his eyelids as the pod transitions out of the dark of space, and the weight of crashing into an atmosphere hits him, the G-forces from this type of re-entry too strong for the grav system to compensate. It presses on him as if four people are sitting on his chest, making each breath a struggle. It’s not a sensation he enjoys.

It’s long minutes of free falling before the auto-pilot kicks in and the pod starts slowing down and steering itself. The G-force lessens enough that it only feels like one Andrew-sized person is sitting on him, which is an improvement, but not by much, and signals the imminent arrival of the next step in the plan. A step Andrew also isn’t on board with, as pleasant as ditching in one of Earth’s oceans sounds.

Andrew attempts to distract himself by estimating time in Earth-minutes. He spent the journey to Earth’s solar system cramming practical knowledge about Earth, to make up for his previous approach of collecting facts about his home planet as if they were shiny gems found at a beach.

Andrew is used to jumping planets, but other than when he was an infant, he’s never been to one that doesn’t use the Trigalaxic Common for measurements. Being able to tell time and use money is a tad more useful than knowing there’s an animal on Earth called a crocodile, and that this animal cannot stick out its tongue, which is the brand of fact that had previously been filtered down to Andrew.

He would guess it takes twenty minutes before the gradual deceleration suddenly becomes more pronounced. Andrew squints his eyes open to get a sense of what is happening, and immediately squeezes them closed again. Too high still. Way too high.

“Brace for impact,” a mechanical voice commands loudly. He doesn’t flinch, but he can’t tell if that’s him suppressing it or the G-forces still preventing him from moving.

Andrew clutches at the arm rests as the pod hits the water with a jolt, violently rocking as it struggles to stabilize in the waves.

The mechanical voice clicks on. “Landing complete. Switching to in-atmosphere systems. Switching to water navigation. Auto-pilot off.”

Unclenching his fists, Andrew slowly opens his eyes. The 360 degree windows reveal water as far as he can see. The sky is a bright blue with dots of white clouds, and Earth’s star is high in the sky, shining yellow-white light down to reflect off the waves. The rocking slows, but the continual motion caused by the waves does nothing to calm his stomach after the 10,000 kilometre drop.

“Auto-pilot off,” Andrew repeats mockingly. “Thank you for that last gift, TGU. I definitely know how to navigate a large body of water,” Andrew mutters, though he’s not opposed to taking control of the pod after days of hurtling through space at the whims of a computer.

He will, however, be taking the next Earth-hour to do nothing, decompress from that experience, and indulge in the sweets he smuggled into the pod as soon as he can get the nausea under control.

Something smacks against the window of the pod before he can do more than remove his seat belt, and this time Andrew can’t suppress his startle reflex. He whips around, reaching for energy blades that were confiscated before this trip, and stares.

There’s a face glaring back at him from the other side of the glass.

A human face.

Andrew has seen many varieties of people throughout his life. When three galaxies are accounted for, intelligent life comes in a variety of shapes, sizes, colours, and types of skin. He stopped being surprised at all the variations that exist by the time he was five. It should not be a shock to him to see a human face.

The human is only out of the water from the shoulders up, piercing blue eyes narrowed, and fist raised from where they had been banging on Andrew’s pod. Their orange-brown hair drips water down their neck from where it hangs loose past their ears. Andrew would guess they’re a man based on photos he’s seen of Earth gender norms.

Most importantly, they are human. Other than himself, Andrew has only ever seen pictures of humans.

Andrew hadn’t been aware there would be any humans here, and he didn’t notice any other floating crafts when he was looking out the windows. Everything he’s read about humans, and knows about himself for that matter, indicates that they were land dwelling mammals and not strong swimmers.

This human shouldn’t even be able to see the pod if the Planet In Ignorance security measures were working properly and making it invisible to human eyes. If the TGU’s tech screwed up and exposed them, Andrew is taking no responsibility for the resulting mess.

The human's lips move, forming words that Andrew can’t hear beyond the thick glass and revealing teeth slightly sharper than Andrew’s own. Andrew can’t be blamed if he gets distracted staring at the human’s mouth; he’s never seen another human after all.

The human snarls, and brings their arm back to hit the glass again. It’s only then that Andrew truly processes his earlier thoughts—land dwelling humans shouldn’t be alone in the middle of the ocean if they want to survive for any length of time. The human’s skin is also tinged blue from the cold water, which can’t be healthy.

It crosses Andrew’s mind that the likely-drowning human could not be his problem if he simply left. His first introduction to humans does not need to be this person. He doesn’t need to figure out how to offer assistance before he has his bearings on Earth, and without worrying about exposing the whole raise by aliens thing.

Then he goes about figuring out how to open the glass top without getting water in the rest of the pod. The human starts banging even louder when Andrew turns away. Eventually, Andrew finds the correct sequence of buttons for the glass side panels to retract into the smooth metal of the base, depriving them of a window to bang against.

For the first time in his memory, Andrew is breathing the air that his species evolved to breathe. The exact types of gases, the exact oxygen to carbon dioxide ratio. The saltiness and humidity in the air is more noticeable than all that.

“Human,” the human in the water hisses. “What do you think that you are doing? What type of ocean invading machines have you concocted now, launching yourself through the air in little capsules? Is this what you consider fun? Almost hitting unsuspecting people?”

Oh good. Andrew has already pissed off the first human he’s met.

Andrew’s implant translates the words into Common for him, which means the human isn’t speaking the one human language human he sort of knows. Typically this isn’t a problem, because the other person would also have some sort of translation device. But this stupid planet is In Ignorance.

Andrew debates rolling up the windows and leaving, instead he replies in English. “Human,” Andrew copies their greeting in a half-assed attempt at politeness. “And here I thought you would be grateful for assistance. Unless you have a way back to solid ground hidden somewhere?”

A mask of neutrality falls over their face. Thoughtfully, and in English this time, the human asks, “Are you saying you’d be willing to bring me to land?”

It would be a tight fit; the pod is barely designed for one person. It consists of the chair he was strapped into, positioned at the back of the pod, maybe an arms length of space surrounding it on all other sides, one cabinet where he shoved food and a change of clothes, and many controls. He would be squished in a small space for who knows how long with a volatile stranger. However, unlike what people across multiple planets expect of him, he’s not going to leave someone to drown. Not without cause, at least.

Besides, he’s curious now.

“Can you offer me anything in exchange?” Andrew asks, knowing he’ll accept the passenger regardless.

The human snorts. “Not so benevolent after all.” They don’t continue and Andrew lets them think. “How fast is this thing?” They ask, banging on the side of the pod again.

“Fast. What’s it to you?”

“Speed is…important to me. At the moment.” They glance down at the water. “I can help navigate the ocean. I know it well.”

“What makes you think I don’t know the ocean? I am the one in a boat in this situation.”

The human splashes the water, scattering droplets into the air. “Fine, what do you want?”

Of course, the things Andrew might need assistance with are not the kind of things he can announce. ‘How does your entire society work? How correct are these alien info-packets?’ may draw some attention Andrew would prefer to avoid.

“Answer some questions of mine honestly and help with navigation, then we’ll call it even.”

The human looks down into the water again. Andrew wonders if anything can be seen in the depths below. If they’re wondering what will happen if Andrew refuses and their energy to keep afloat eventually fades. When they look back up at Andrew, their startling similarity still catches him off guard: same features, in the same locations and proportions. “I’ll answer honestly as long as I can skip questions.”

Andrew makes a gesture for them to get in the pod to indicate agreement. They push off from the pod and slip underwater instead of taking the victory. Before Andrew can muster concern, they pop back up and somehow scale the smooth side of the pod to sit on the edge, poorly covering up a wince at the movement and clutches an arm to his stomach.

A few things quickly become apparent.

“You’re naked,” Andrew says blankly, stating the obvious in a way he typically hates. Then, “you’re bleeding.”

The human—Andrew needs to stop thinking of them as ‘the human’ as if he himself isn’t human too—looks down at himself. “Yep,” they say, apparently unconcerned with the fact that there’s long gashes along an arm and his abdomen. They’ve wrapped some sort of aquatic plant around the wounds, but they’re not doing much to stop the flow of blood. The aquatic plant is the only thing they’re wearing.

It doesn’t do much to hide, well, anything.

Andrew feels the tips of his ears inappropriately heating up and snaps his eyes up to his passengers face, then gives it up as a bad job and stands up to grab bandages and clothing from the other side of the pod. He immediately stumbles gracelessly into the cabinet. Andrew takes a moment to glare at the cabinet. It’s not enough that he noticed it sitting down, but the gravity on Earth must be slightly greater than that of the spacecraft that brought him here. His legs feel like there’s weights strapped to them.

“You good?” Asks the person who is quite literally bleeding out behind Andrew, and Andrew rips open the door to the cabinet, making quick work of the straps holding everything down.

He finds the first aid kit, a small towel, and a change of clothes. He pauses briefly before thrusting them at the interloper; the first aid kit definitely includes supplies not available if the planet is In Ignorance, and though Andrew swears clothes are a norm here, this person’s casual nudity is making him question whether that’s true.

Andrew hates how off balance he already is on his supposed home planet.

Thankfully, his passenger pulls on the pants easily enough and seems content to sit down on the floor and rifle through the first aid kit, apparently wholeheartedly accepting Andrew’s help now. Without blood-cock-blood being all he can see, Andrew can properly appreciate how concerningly deep some of those cuts look.

It’s not his passenger’s first brush with violence either by the looks of the scars crisscrossing their abdomen. They’re obviously somewhat experienced in treating them as well, as they deftly pull out an absorbent cloth and press it against the ugliest looking of their wounds. They catch Andrew looking and pause their first aid to meet his eyes challengingly. Andrew chooses not to comment on the mess that is their skin.

“What’s your name and gender of address?” Andrew asks instead.

His passenger pulls out a long strip of cloth and begins wrapping it around their arm before answering. “Neil? And, uh, male?”

“You don’t sound certain.” Andrew sits back into his chair. Because of the small pod, this means Neil is sitting at Andrew’s feet.

“It’s Neil. And male—I’ve just never been asked like that before.” Neil finds some steri-strips, much to his apparent delight. Andrew is fairly certain those ones are nanobot enhanced for healing, but chooses not to do anything about the In Ignorance breach. Neil probably needs them. “What should I call you?”

“Andrew.”

“Well, Andrew,” Neil says. “Can we please get out of here?”

Andrew freezes momentarily. He swallows and bites his tongue to center himself, cursing the fact that please translates one to one into so many languages. He squeezes the armrest, a reminder of where he is, and where he isn’t.

Andrew gives himself the length of one breath before he attempts to decode the controls. He’s just managed to find the button that deploys the motor when a thud from the bottom of the pod suddenly throws them to the side, forcing Andrew to clutch onto the chair to stay seated.

“Fuck,” Neil mutters, scrambling up to look over the edge. He leans far over the water, as if tempting gravity to pull him back in. “Sharks. They’re probably attracted to my blood in the water. Can you hurry up?”

“Trying,” Andrew grunts. “Get your body back inside and take care of your wounds.”

There’s another thud from below. Having still been looking out over the water, Neil throws himself back so as not to fall out when the pod rocks violently again. This move lands him in Andrew’s lap, bare chest and getting not a small amount of water and blood on him.

Andrew pushes him off. “Sit down and calm down. A shark isn’t going to be able to break through the metal.”

At least, it shouldn’t—the hull was designed to withstand atmospheric re-entry. But Andrew isn’t certain he’s remembering what a ‘shark’ is correctly (explain to him why the only fact he knows about sharks is that they don’t have bones) and would prefer not to be eaten so soon after landing on Earth.

“Maybe I should jump out. You don’t need to face sharks for a stranger. They’ll leave you alone once I’m gone and you can—”

Andrew accelerates the pod to its highest level, throwing Neil flat onto the floor. Andrew does not feel bad about his soft noise of pain.

Despite the promise of answering questions for payment, they settle into silence. Andrew would have needed the process time to compartmentalize the reality of being on Earth if Neil wasn’t there. The injured, finally not half naked, man on board dramatically increases said processing time.

Neil doesn’t comment on the lack of questions. In his periphery, Andrew watches as he finishes taking care of his wounds and kneels to stare out the window. Neil grins sharply at the waves, brings a hand up to wipe the smile off, then repeats at least ten times. Like everything about this real life human beside him, Andrew is curious.

He doesn’t want to be this intrigued by someone, but he decides to cut himself some slack. Everything is new. It makes logical sense he would be curious.

Despite himself, Andrew quietly acknowledges that his problem isn’t only that Neil is the first human he’s met. Everything about Neil—his injuries, his scars, finding him in the ocean, his initial anger and current calm, the dangerous smile he’s still wrestling off his own face—is a mystery that Andrew wants to unwrap layer by layer.

Earth’s star—the sun—has noticeably changed position in the sky by the time Andrew feels capable of conversation and he slows the pod so they can hear each other. He could put the glass walls back up to block the sound of wind, but he’s had enough of being in a glass bubble. Neil turns away from the water at the speed change.

“So, Neil,” Andrew begins. “How are we faring for navigation then, since you’re such an expert?”

Neil looks past Andrew briefly, out the front of the pod. “Fine. We’re headed on a direct course for the USA by the looks of it and there’s no storms in sight.”

It’s what Andrew’s instruments are telling him, but it’s good for it to be confirmed by someone who is familiar with these waters. Not that Andrew has any particular attachment to what part of Earth’s land they reach. The United States of America was decided for him because it’s where he was taken from.

“Time for answers then.”

Neil sighs. Still sitting on the floor, he leans against the wall of the pod and tilts his head back to look at Andrew. He spreads his legs out in a ‘V’ on either side of Andrew’s chair, and Andrew has to consciously wrangle his thoughts away from the glimpse he got before Neil put clothes on. “Go ahead. How many questions are you getting for payment?”

“Let’s say…five.”

“Five?” He asks, like this small number is an outrage.

“Should have negotiated better if you don’t like it.”

Neil rolls his eyes. So that’s a real thing that humans do then. Andrew had read a mention of ‘eye rolling’ in an info-packet when he was younger and tried to emulate it himself. He was never certain he was getting it right and didn’t have anyone to ask. “I never said I didn’t like it.”

Andrew doesn’t bother responding to that, skipping ahead to his first question. “How are your wounds?”

“That’s what you’re going to waste your question on?”

Andrew gets the sense that this man does not put much value on caring for himself to consider that question a waste. Those wounds were not small, alien tech or no alien tech. “Apologies for showing concern about whether the strange man on my boat is going to bleed out or not.”

Neil rolls his eyes again. “I’m fine. The cuts feel fine. Nothing is bleeding through.”

If true, Andrew attributes that to a combination of the healing nanos and a high pain tolerance. Andrew sweeps a critical eye over him. He does seem better. At least, he’s no longer tinged blue and isn’t braced quite as much against pain.

“Next question. What happened that left you bleeding in the middle of the ocean?”

This time Neil doesn’t mock the question. He hesitates, looking away from Andrew to the ocean again.

“I said I would answer honestly. But the answer to that is worth more than one fifth a ride to shore.” Neil pulls a leg up and braces himself against his knee. “I can give you part of the story, or you can ask a different question.”

Andrew gestures for him to go ahead.

Neil sucks in a breath. When he speaks, he speaks slowly, as if picking his words with care. “The people I was with are not nice. They are the ones that did this to me. Some good things happened, some not so good things happened, I escaped. Except I escaped bleeding and being stalked by sharks.”

Vague, but Andrew accepts it. “And the people?”

“Dead,” Neil pronounces, and the grin slices across his face only to be smothered again. “And two probably looking for me.” It sounds like an unfinished sentence, as if the end of it is to return the favour. Neil seems unconcerned about this, though Andrew figures speeding away from whatever Neil isn’t saying helps. Putting distance between himself and his abusers soothed Andrew in a way that Andrew quickly learned to not trust, but he figures he understands some of what Neil is feeling.

“I take it you're not sad about the dead one.”

“What gave it away,” Neil says sardonically.

“Did you kill them?”

Neil tsks. It should not be an attractive sound, but the way he pushes back against Andrew’s questions, unfortunately, only draws Andrew in. Four questions in and Andrew wants to disassemble this man. Every answer he gives is vague and mysterious, revealing slivers of a dangerous life. “You think I’d tell a stranger whether I killed someone?”

“So, yes.”

“No,” Neil corrects. “And I would like to remind you that all of this happened in unclaimed waters if you feel the need to involve the police.”

Andrew can’t help but scoff at that. “I have no plans to drag your sorry ass to any authority.”

Neil relaxes slightly. He tenses again when Andrew continues to speak, “however, I would strongly encourage you to find a medical center.”

“I already told you I’m fine. I don’t need your concern. You going to ask your last question?”

Andrew hums. “I think I’ll save that one.”

“Of course you are,” Neil complains, but takes that as the dismissal it is and turns back to his fixation of staring out over the ocean. He puts his uninjured arm over the side to drag through the spray of water, causing it to spray in even more directions. Andrew refocuses on the controls. It’s Neil’s business if he wants to get pelted by water.

Andrew has been on planets where the sky glows blue as the star goes down, where it becomes progressively tinged with green, and even one that was tidally locked with its star. That one required habitat domes to not boil life into non-existence from the heat of a star perpetually hanging at the same spot in the sky. The artificial colony he spent his last few years on since reaching adulthood didn’t even have a nearby star, let alone sunsets.

Andrew realizes he missed sunsets as Earth’s sky fades into brilliant oranges and yellows and pinks. He’s not usually easily awed, but everything about this day must be getting to him because he has to look away from the sight. Swinging his gaze over to Neil doesn’t help. The sunset is reflected in the water behind him and the angle of the sun catches on his hair perfectly to give it an orange glow. It’s too much to look at.

“I’m going to eat,” Andrew says, getting up to rummage through the cabinet. “You hungry?”

Neil rejects Andrew's reluctant offering of sweet puffs. They’re the last Andrew will probably ever have access to, so he’s not particularly disappointed. He tosses over a water bottle and a regulation nutrition packet, which Neil seems content enough with even though they are unequivocally a crime to food.

Nightfall brings a host of other issues. As the sunset fades from bright colours to purples and then dark blue, the day catches up to him and he knows he won’t be able to stay awake much longer. It’s been a few sleep cycles since he slept properly thanks to a combination of knowing his destination and the unfamiliar and suboptimal sleeping quarters wreaking havoc on his ability to fall asleep and stay asleep. He keeps the pod moving for a while longer, but it gets to the point that the starlight isn’t enough to see by and Andrew’s eyes grow heavy, his blinks starting to last longer as his body asserts its need for sleep. When he blinks and opens his eyes to them drifting off course, Andrew admits defeat.

The change in speed catches Neil’s attention. He glares at Andrew from where he is perched precariously on the edge of the pod when it becomes obvious they’re stopping. “What are you doing?”

“Stopping.”

“Why are you stopping?”

“It’s nighttime.”

“So?”

Andrew does not dignify that with a response. Neil can put two and two together about why someone might stop a speeding boat at night. Andrew messes with the controls until he’s reasonably certain he turned on the anti-drift so they won’t get blown off course overnight, then evaluates the pod.

As established, it’s small: a transport pod to take him from the main ship’s drop point to Earth’s surface. Sleeping was not a priority for whoever designed it, and now Andrew has to contend with a second person in the space.

“Andrew,” Neil says insistently.

Andrew considers copying Neil’s example with eye rolling. It would fit well for this moment, but he would like to see himself do it at least once before trying in front of a human. “It's time for sleeping.”

When Neil continues to stare at him as if he spoke in a different language—and Andrew knows he’s not slipped out of English—Andrew sighs, “We’ve gone one of thousands of possible directions in a form of transport that doesn’t leave tracks. If we take an eight hour break are your monsters going to be able to somehow find us?”

“Maybe.”

“How?” Andrew demands.

“Guessing?” Neil offers. “We’re making a straight path to a major country.”

Andrew stares.

“Fine,” Neil relents. “How are we sleeping?”

That’s the question.

Andrew digs out the compact pillow and blankets and shakes them out to their full size. He offers a blanket to Neil, but he doesn’t have a second pillow and doesn’t plan to share. Neil shrugs this off, insisting he’ll be fine. A better host would probably fight him and offer the pillow, but Andrew is already going to be sacrificing his peace of mind, so Neil will have to manage.

Andrew sucks on a teeth cleaning tablet as he considers the best position. They could sleep with the chair between their heads to pretend like the other person isn’t there, but Andrew doesn’t think he could handle knowing someone is sleeping within arms reach and not be able to see him.

They end up on the floor facing each other, curved like two brackets with their backs to opposite walls. It keeps them as far from each other as possible, but that does not say much.

Andrew has not slept in the same room as someone else since they stopped putting him in foster homes with other children. Since moving to the artificial colony, he exclusively has slept in private rooms behind a locked door.

Neil isn’t just in the same room; he’s enclosed with Andrew in a space so small that Andrew’s feet and head are both grazing walls. Not much taller than Andrew, Neil isn’t able to fully extend his legs. Andrew closed the glass walls in the hope that the stealth panelling could do its job while they’re unconscious, but having the roof closed makes the space feel that much smaller. Which could be all for naught since Andrew isn’t even sure it’s working. Neil’s presence here does indicate otherwise; he shouldn't have been able to see the pod.

Andrew shifts backwards, but there’s no space to move any further. Neil does nothing to disguise that he was watching when Andrew accidentally meets his eyes in the darkness. Even though Andrew’s certain that his face doesn’t reflect his discomfort, Neil tries to create more space too. There is, of course, nowhere to move.

Andrew doesn’t expect to get much sleep despite his exhaustion. And it does take longer than it typically would to fall asleep. They're too close, and he doesn’t trust Neil; he barely knows Neil. Andrew is weaponless. But he must trust Neil enough to not try anything in the night, or else he really is that fatigued, because his body gradually relaxes into sleep.

Andrew is sitting before he processes waking up, grabbing at his weaponless armbands futilely and kicking out when that doesn’t work. All he manages to do is kick the chair. The pain from his stubbed toe at least grounds him enough to realize what woke him: Neil is whimpering in his sleep.

Andrew is in the pod, in the middle of an Earth ocean, with his passenger still fast asleep. He’s safe.

It’s still dark out, but as his adrenaline fades Neil comes into focus in the soft glow of the controls. His face is screwed up as if in pain and his whimpers quickly collect into pleas.

It makes Andrew sick to his stomach to hear the same words on repeat: “stop, please, stop,” and “she’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead, stop.”

Andrew throws his pillow at Neil’s head, which, thankfully, immediately cuts off the words. Neil doesn’t move, but his breathing changes enough to let Andrew know he’s awake. Andrew barely has a moment to wonder if that will be it when Neil starts to hyperventilate.

“Neil.” When Andrew gets no response he tries again. “Neil.” And again. “Neil. Sit up and breathe.” Neil does not sit up or breathe. Andrew tries to be comforting. “You’re okay. I’m going to turn the light on.”

Andrew takes his eyes off Neil to get the nightlight switch, flooding the pod with dim light from photoelectric cells in the glass. Andrew turns back to crouch in front of Neil, who has struggled up to sit against the wall. His breathing continues to pick up.

“Open your eyes.”

Neil shakes his head.

“C’mon you can do it. Breathe. Slow breaths.”

“Can’t breathe. Water,” Neil gasps between breaths, but when Andrew hands him with a water bottle he shakes his head again. “The ocean. Where’s—. I need—”

“It’s behind you. Turn around and open your eyes if you want to see it.”

This time Neil follows Andrew direction, scrambling up onto his knees to look out. The light from the window’s photo-cells casts his face in a pale blue light as he stares out at the waves, still breathing too quickly. Neil reaches out to touch the glass with visibly trembling hands, but doesn’t ask for the window to be opened and Andrew doesn’t offer. Andrew watches this for a while before he gets tired of whatever Neil is attempting to do to calm himself down. It’s obviously not helping.

“Can I touch you?” Andrew asks. Neil nods; a motion that may also be him hitting his head against the window. Andrew pods, “Neil, yes or no?”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

Andrew tentatively places a hand on the back of his neck, ready to take it off if Neil reacts negatively. Instead, he lets out a long stuttering breath and collapses forward to rest his forehead on the glass.

They sit like that, the only sounds Neil’s ragged breathing and the waves until Neil is able to calm enough to sit back. Andrew retreats to the other side of the pod. Neil rests the back of his head against the pod, an echo of earlier in the day, but this time he looks exhausted rather than cocky.

“Sorry for waking you.”

Andrew shrugs. “Not your fault.”

“I haven’t had one that bad in a while.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

They lapse into silence. Andrew is wide awake now. Without the fatigue that dragged him into sleep, he doubts he’ll be able to fall asleep again. Neil similarly doesn’t make a move to lie down. Andrew could starting them on their way to land again, but it’s still dark and he’s not thrilled about the idea of navigating without sight.

“Question,” Andrew says.

Neil focuses his eyes. “Is this question 5?”

“Sure.”

“Go ahead.”

“Where are you planning to go once we reach land?”

“Not going to ask about my nightmare?” Neil folds his arms.

“Can you answer a question without challenging it?”

Neil grabs the forgotten water bottle and takes a sip, buying time for what should be a straightforward question. Andrew wonders if he’ll refuse to answer, but he sets down the water and admits, “I was planning on seeing where we land and going from there.”

Andrew deliberately doesn’t think about how that sums up his plan as well.

It’s almost peaceful, drifting with the waves under the soft glow of the lights. It's an odd feeling to experience with another person, but that oddness isn’t enough to take Andrew out of the moment.

“What would you do if we crashed on a deserted island?”

That attracts Neil’s attention in a way that Andrew didn’t mean to. “Are you planning to wreck your boat?”

“No. It’s a hypothetical.”

“I thought you’d used up all your questions.”

“It’s a hypothetical,” Andrew repeats. “Not a personal question.”

“How about this,” Neil proposed instead of answering Andrew’s simple question. “A new deal. You can ask me questions if I can ask you a similar question in return.”

Andrew gestures with a few flicks of his fingers for Neil to go ahead.

“If we crashed on a deserted island? I would probably start by examining the boat, seeing if it could still float. If not, drag it to shore to make shelter. Try to find food—probably fish if there are some in the region. If possible, let my wounds heal before attempting to leave the island. If it’s not going to be feasible that we’d last long enough food or shelter wise, take my chances with the ocean.”

“And how do you plan on ‘taking your chances’ without a boat?”

Neil shrugs, “I’m a strong swimmer.”

“You’d abandon me to go off and drown?”

“If we find something that floats, I could try to pull you.”

“So you’re saying I have the choice between starving to death on the island or drowning in the middle of the ocean together?”

Neil’s cocky attitude is back. “If you want to see it that way.” Neil taps the water bottle against his mouth. “My turn. A hypothetical, huh?” He glances out at the ocean. “What would you do if mermaids were real?”

Andrew has a feeling he’s about to reveal his ignorance of Earth culture, and then decides he doesn’t care. “What are mermaids?”

Interestingly, this causes Neil to freeze. He answers in a tone Andrew can’t place. “Um, a mythical creature that looks the same as humans from the waist up, but has a scaled tail similar to a fish.”

“If they were real?” Andrew asks. “I wouldn't do anything in particular.”

“A fantasy creature being real and you would shrug it off?”

The answer here is obviously yes; Andrew said as much not five seconds ago, but Neil’s expectant look pulls a confirmation from him. Andrew would be just as surprised by the existence of any animal or otherwise intelligent life on this planet as its nonexistence. Which is to say, not at all.

It doesn’t escape Andrew’s attention how easily the conversation flows from there. The questions stay away from anything personal, yet somehow time slips by on meaningless discussion of hypothetical scenarios. As distance increases from Neil’s nightmare, he becomes more chatty, making up for Andrew’s natural silences.

It’s quite possibly the longest conversation he’s participated in.

There’s a certain intimacy to it as well, trapped in the bubble together, breathing the same air, and engaging in what boils down to pillow talk. He turns off the light eventually to encourage the possibility of sleep again, which results in him and Neil talking under the sky full of stars as they gently rock on the waves.

The gaps Neil leaves in the conversation slowly lengthen between yawns, before the conversation drops off entirely. When Andrew looks over, Neil is asleep. Andrew finds that he’s tired enough to slip into sleep himself.

The rising sun wakes Andrew far too early. Neil is still sleeping and Andrew takes the moment to study him. It’s almost uncomfortable how unguarded Neil looks in sleep, younger and devoid of the tension he’s carried since Andrew picked him up.

Andrew breathes out and admits to himself what has been dancing around the edges of his brain. Andrew is ridiculously attracted to this man. He wants to blame it on the circumstances. Neil is the first human he’s met; it makes sense that his evolution finds someone from his own species attractive. It’s not that he’s been celibate; he participated in his fair share of experimentation on the artificial colony. However, he fears that Neil is simply attractive, regardless of how they met.

It’s either that, or Andrew is going to have to contend with a land of excessively attractive beings once they get to shore.

Last night’s conversation did not help. Instead of satiating Andrew’s curiosity about the man, it served to make him more intrigued.

It doesn’t take long for Neil to wake. He blinks his eyes open and catches Andrew’s before Andrew can look away. “I fell asleep?” Neil yawns.

“Obviously.”

“You sleep?”

Andrew hums, which Neil must take as a sufficient answer because he gets up and messily folds his blanket. The folding job immediately unravels when Neil tosses it into the cabinet.

Neil looks at Andrew expectantly. “Ready to get going?”

“Food first.”

“Fine.”

Andrew knows that Neil wants to get to land to escape whatever monsters he’s leaving behind and so Andrew squashes the feeling that Neil is equally as eager to escape him. Andrew has known this person for less than one star cycle; he has no business being attached.

Maybe, though, he can interest Neil in an orgasm before they part ways.

That thought alone increases Andrew’s own eagerness to get to shore. It’s a shame that they can’t make use of this time, but Andrew refuses to ask Neil when he’s literally trapped with Andrew.

They make good time. According to the GPS, at the speed they’re going there’s less than half a day left until they hit land. If nothing else, the TGU is a fan of things going fast. Andrew is not complaining. He’s also a fan of things going fast and is ready to be on land again. He’s had too many days on a spaceship to want to spend any length of time on the unsteady ocean.

Andrew takes a deliberate breath when he spots the first adventurous boat. After that, there’s a slow trickle of boats in the distance, which Andrew takes as an indication they’re approaching land. So far, any boats that cross their path haven’t gotten close, but he keeps the dome closed anyway.

Neil starts some sort of jumping exercise in the small space beside Andrew’s chair, completely ignoring the disapproving look Andrew sends him. It’s much harder to return the favour as Neil switches to running on the spot and followed by stretches that demonstrate stupid amounts of flexibility. All of which ignore his injuries.

When Neil finally stops exercising to rummage through the first aid kit and fiddle with his wounds, Andrew is grateful until he speaks, “uh, Andrew? What’s the story with your bandages?”

Andrew sighs internally. “They’re bandages. Supposed to keep your blood inside your body. What kind of story are you looking for?”

“Sure. I do in fact know how bandages work in general.” Andrew bets he does based on the scars Andrew has seen. “My cuts, however, look like two weeks have passed, not one day, and some of my scars are noticeably fainter. The only thing that I’ve done differently is your bandages. Which brings me to the natural conclusion that the bandages are special in some way. So where did you get them?”

Andrew shrugs. “Came with the first aid kit.” Which isn’t a lie.

“Where did you get the first aid kit?”

Andrew considers how to answer that in a way that will get Neil to stop asking, and whether Neil will drop it if he just doesn’t reply.

“Do I need to make this part of the question game?” Neil presses. “The longer you’re silent the more—”

It’s then that Andrew glances forward. He accidentally swears in Common as he grabs for the controls to prevent a head-on collision with an approaching boat, swerving sharply to the left. When the boat passes, they haven’t steadied yet and the resulting waves rock the pod enough that one of Andrew’s sweet puffs falls from where he left it on the control board onto the floor. He makes a rude gesture that probably doesn’t translate to Earth at the retreating boat.

Then picks up the sweet puff off the floor and pops it in his mouth. Don’t judge him, he only has a limited number of these left in his life and he isn’t wasting any to the floor.

“Holy shit.” Neil jumps up. “That driver did nothing to try to avoid hitting us. He didn’t even look over.”

Andrew lets Neil rant. The conversation redirect is for the best anyway. He doubts the TGU cares enough about him now that he's out of their hair to bug the pod, but he wouldn’t rule it out. Andrew would like to avoid any future interactions with their enforcement board. Not that they would be thrilled Andrew gave TGU tech to a human in the first place.

Neil’s words become background noise as Andrew refocuses on the controls. He can’t let himself get distracted by pretty boys asking dangerous questions if he’s piloting an essentially invisible boat. The In Ignorance camouflaging must be working if boats are nearly crashing into them. It pings at the back of his mind—what made Neil able to see him?

“Land,” Neil proclaims, like Andrew can’t also see. The genuine eagerness and relief in his voice prevents Andrew from calling out the obvious comment.

Andrew himself carefully does not feel any emotions about his first glimpse of the coastline. It’s still a brown streak on the horizon, basically a child’s drawing of a line, and he’s not delusional enough to think being back in the land he was taken from will mean any sort of change of fortune for him. The scars that crisscross Neil's abdomen are proof enough that Earth isn’t some utopia waiting to be discovered.

He nurtured a childish fantasy for too long about not being an anomaly. The fantasy, as fantasies are wont to do, died a fiery death with the realization that the people around him could have chosen to treat him like any other child. He was rarely the only person of a different species or from a different planet.

But Andrew was one of a kind, a displaced child from an In Ignorance planet, a novelty, a ward of a government that spanned three different galaxies and saw him as an experiment rather than a child.

Here, at the very least, any people out for him will have the same capabilities as him.

It would be hard for it to be worse. There—that’s a relatively safe amount of optimism.

“Andrew?”

Andrew blinks back to the present, the coastline much closer. Andrew doesn’t like the look of concern on Neil’s face, like he can somehow read Andrew’s thoughts through the blank mask he maintains. However, Neil asks, “Do you have a plan for where we’re docking?”

Andrew’s only plan was away from other people. He doesn’t reply.

“Okay, well, you may want to slow down as we reach shallow water.”

Chafing at the advice, Andrew does. The speed they’ve been travelling has been good for open water, however it also means they’re now almost at shore.

“We’re going to hit a rock,” Neil says, completely casually, leaning over the side of the pod.

Andrew turns sharply to the side so they’re travelling parallel to the coast. And reduces his speed even more. Neil stays hanging over the edge, so Andrew doesn’t bother instructing him to let him know of any other hazards.

They pass by a marina and beaches with people lounging by the water. No one acknowledges them, but Andrew doesn’t get close enough that they would need to. It doesn’t take long before the number of people dotting the shore thin out. Trees and steep rock faces replace them, which are also not ideal locations to come ashore.

When Andrew spots a small empty sandy area, he doesn’t think before he turns towards it. Almost immediately, the pod comes to a grinding stop.

“Sand bank,” Neil’s warning comes too late.

“I noticed,” Andrew says dryly.

Andrew increases the power to the engine, but it does them no good. They’re stuck.

Neil scampers over to look over the back. “Hard to tell, but I think the engine is caught. It gets deeper again on the other side, I think. I can jump in and push.”

Andrew tries the engine one more time. They shift slightly forward, but not enough to go anywhere. Steering side to side and backwards have similar effects. Movement, but not enough movement.

“And you think you can get us unstuck where a powerful motor cannot?”

Neil shrugs. “I have hands, I can detangle the motor if it’s stuck. And unlike the motor, I am not stuck. Either that or you keep trying the engine. Or we can swim to shore from here.”

“Don’t drown.”

Neil scoffs. “I’m a good swimmer.”

Andrew does not point out how they met when Neil was on his way to drowning. Though, that he had managed to stay alive with large gashes across his stomach might be a point in his favour

Before Andrew can process what’s happening, Neil has stripped off his shirt. While Andrew is processing all the suddenly exposed skin and toned stomach, scars and red lines where the gashes used to be, Neil does not stop at the shirt.

Andrew is quite suddenly confronted with Neil’s thighs. Andrew swallows. Neil is wearing an extra pair of Andrew’s underwear. He knew this. He gave it to him. But it’s different seeing Neil naked again—except for Andrew’s underwear—without the possibility of anyone bleeding out.. It’s different because Andrew has spent a star-cycle in close proximity to the man getting to know him.

“What are you doing? Why no pants?” Andrew asks without the permission of his brain.

“Don’t want to get them wet,” Neil says, then jumps off the edge into the shallow water. It’s a long moment before he surfaces again, tossing his head back to flip his hair out of his face.

He’s going to kill Andrew. Andrew is going to make it almost to Earth’s land, only to drop dead from how attractive this man is.

“You’re really jammed into the sand. I'm going to push you backwards then we can go around. It's not as shallow if we go a little farther.”

Andrew pays more attention than potentially necessary to help them get unstuck, but he needs something to focus on other than his inappropriate thoughts staring at all the skin Neil is showing off.

Once Neil carves out the motor from the sand, it's easy for the combination of Neil pushing and Andrew gently giving power to the engine to free the pod. Andrew fixates onto the controls as Neil climbs back in, dries off, and thankfully acquires clothes.

True to his word, Neil directs Andrew to where the sandbar isn’t as high, allowing them to pass over it unimpeded.

It’s a small empty beach, overgrown with green plants and no official docking area, so Andrew points them towards the sand. He runs aground, this time against the shore and on purpose.

Getting to shore has been the goal all along, but Andrew has to take a moment to stare at the sand and trees and rocks. Neil, still for once, seems to be doing the same at Andrew’s side. Andrew wonders if Neil believed he would make it this far. Andrew certainly hadn't.

Andrew only allows himself a brief moment of purposeless staring at trees and sand and rocks before turning abruptly to the cabinet. He’s not technically supposed to take anything off the pod on the off chance someone sees it. The pod is programmed with a self-destruct feature Andrew has been instructed to arm when he leaves—or else it will destruct itself when enough time has passed that Andrew would have starved to death on the open ocean.

However, Andrew refuses to leave without supplies. Starving is not on his agenda, nor is walking around without a change of clothes, and everything about Neil indicates that it wouldn’t be a bad idea for Andrew to face this world with healing nanobot enhanced bandages in hand.

“Want me to carry anything?” Neil asks, apparently done with his existential crisis.

Andrew glances down at the first aid bag he’d stuffed with the remainder of his water containers and food supply, and extra underwear. He doesn’t have any other bags and there’s not much left, but he gestures at the cabinet. “Have at it.”

Neil comes away with Andrew’s last change of clothes, which he wraps in a blanket to make a pseudo-bag. Andrew looks around the small space. He hadn’t been allowed to bring his few personal possessions with him, so there’s nothing else to take.

Andrew doesn’t bother setting the self-destruct feature before jumping out of the pod. Thankfully, the water is shallow enough that rolling up their pant legs is sufficient to avoid getting wet, and Neil does not have to strip again.

The pod disappears from view once Andrew is looking at it from the outside. It’s a bit of a mind fuck. Though not as much of one as entering the mostly invisible pod had been. Neil does not comment about the disappearing large object. Andrew resists asking him if he can still see it and drawing attention to the fact that Andrew can’t.

Andrew has never been in the “In Ignorance” category before. The fact that he can’t see it is a by-product of making sure humans can’t see it. But Andrew is functionally In Ignorance now. Knowledge of life on other planets won’t serve him here.

They wade through the shallow water to the dry sand. Andrew doesn’t think he was old enough to walk when he left, which makes these his first steps on Earth.

Andrew and Neil look at each other once they reach the beach. Neil offers the pile of clothing to Andrew, who takes it even though it won’t fit in his one bag and ends up cradling it awkwardly.

“Where are you headed now?” Neil fidgets with his now empty hands.

Andrew shrugs, and gestures past Neil towards the trees behind him. There’s a small footpath there, thankfully, as it’s the only other exit from this beach besides the ocean. Hopefully it’ll lead to a road. That it’s the only way out means he’ll probably be travelling with Neil a little bit longer before they part ways.

Andrew tells himself that this is nothing. That he’s started new and alone on so many new planets that this shouldn’t phase him.

“So,” Neil breaks the growing silence between them. “Not to jump to conclusions, but are you from a different planet?”

Taken off guard, Andrew’s eyes widen without his permission.

Neil continues talking without waiting for Andrew’s reply. “I mean that literally. I think that’s a saying, uh, here where that means you’re not thinking the same way everyone else is. Ignore everything I’m saying if this is gibberish.”

“What,” Andrew says flatly, genuinely confused.

“So you’re not then?” Neil asks seriously. Andrew can’t tell for certain, but he thinks Neil might be disappointed by that assumption.

Andrew flicks his eyes towards the invisible pod, decides that if they did bug the thing it’s probably far enough away now not to pick up their conversation. He takes a few more steps away from the beach, just in case. Neil follows him, hopping up to balance on a nearby rock and staring expectantly at Andrew.

Besides, on the whole, he’s never cared much for rules.

“Why do you think that?” Andrew circumvents.

“Did you know avoiding answering the question makes me more certain I’m correct?” Neil asks. He keeps talking, listing out the reasons on his fingers. “You could understand me when I wasn’t speaking English. The labels on your things are written in a script I’ve never seen before. Not the best evidence since there’s many ways of writing and I’m certainly no expert. My stab wounds miraculously healed.” Andrew can admit that one is rather damning. “That boat looks like nothing I’ve seen before—and I am actually an expert on boats. I’m not sure you can even see it, since it’s drifted off and you keep looking at an empty spot. And while we're on that topic, those people who almost hit us definitely didn’t see us. They made no attempt to avoid the collision” Neil brings his hand back to his side. “To be fair, all of these things could be me being ignorant of technology. I was rather thrown off by the fact that you are obviously human. However…” Neil picks up steam as he talks, drawing out his last word as a blatant prompt to Andrew.

“It sounds like you already know the answer.”

Neil grins, taking this as a confirmation. It’s a different smile from the one he had attempted to repeatedly tear off his face yesterday. This one speaks of delight. Andrew isn’t sure why he knew or what inspired that delight, unless Andrew just happened to pick up some sort of alien fanatic.

“How are you human and from a different planet?” Neil asks. “I thought “alien” life was a secret from humans.” Neil makes a gesture as he says the word alien that Andrew doesn’t recognize but can grasp the meaning of.

“Nope. My turn for questions. What makes you think this is true? Why is this even on your radar if, as you said, it’s supposed to be a secret? Or are you some sort of delusional conspiracy theorist?”

Neil’s grin widens, a wild look in his eyes. It’s a grin that tells Andrew that whatever comes out of his mouth is bound to be a secret on par with the one Neil just pulled out of him.

“Yeah, see, it’s supposed to be a secret from humans. I’m not one. We have a deal with the TGU of reciprocal secrecy from humans. Fun, right?”

Hearing the acronym out of Neil’s mouth confirms it. Neil knows more than Andrew was led to believe the people of Earth know.

“What are you then? You look human to me.”

Neil scoffs. “How much do you even know about what humans look like?” Andrew doesn’t bother protesting that he is human and therefore does have some idea what a human looks like. Neil isn’t wrong.

Neil is grinning again, like this is the most amusing thing to happen. “I’m a mermaid.”

He follows this announcement with, once again, stripping. The stripping distracts Andrew more than anything Neil said. Andrew is used to people who aren’t human. He is unused to Neil's abs and thighs.

In a move Andrew should have expected, Neil wades into the water once he’s down to Andrew’s his underwear.

Once he’s deep enough to sink down to his shoulders, the underwear comes off too. Neil reaches down into the water and when he lifts his hand back up, the underwear is looped around his wrist. Luckily his attention is drawn away from that when Neil leans back to float on top of the water.

His legs have disappeared—or fused? In their place is a long tail of overlapping blue and green iridescent scales that taper at his waist, a scant number of them continuing up to blend into his abdomen. His skin has taken on a slight bluish hue—reminiscent of how it looked when he was first banging on the pod window. Andrew had mistaken mermaid skin for hypothermia. It suddenly makes sense why he was in the middle of the ocean.

Shape shifting is something new to Andrew. He’s not sure that any other species in the TGU can. There’s a couple who have drastic appearance shifting as part of their life cycle, but there’s none that Andrew knows of that it’s at will.

Between the sudden shape shifting and the still being half-naked (or completely? Andrew supposes the tail half is naked too), Andrew has to put real effort into maintaining a blank face. The tail looks good on him. Strong and natural, and complimenting the colour of his eyes even across the distance.

A mermaid.

He does fit the description Neil gave Andrew when he was posing his existence as a hypothetical question.

Andrew wonders how many half truths Neil included in the stories of his life that he shared. Andrew wonders if he even plans to come to land with him, or if Andrew was a convenient way to heal away from sharks, before disappearing back into the ocean.

Neil flips over and comes up to the shore in a few swift strokes, until he can rest his upper body in the shallow water.

“Mermaid,” Neil pronounces again.

“Not so mythical then, are you?”

“I hope not. Otherwise, I’m going to have to re-evaluate my whole life.” They’re quiet for a moment, then Neil says wonderingly, “This really doesn’t phase you, does it?”

“You were the one that decided I’m not from Earth. You can answer this one yourself,” Andrew replies. “I’ve seen more people who aren’t human than who are. Did you think a little fish tail would phase me?”

“It’s not a fish tail,” Neil protests. “Do I look like a fish to you?”

Neil swims into deeper water and shifts back into legs soon after. He doesn’t explain what he’s doing as he leaves, and for a moment Andrew is certain he’ll never see the strange man again. But he pops back up soon after, underwear on, kicking water at Andrew as he wades out of the ocean.

“So, I was thinking since we’re both unfamiliar with this place, that we could stick together a while longer,” Neil says once he’s pulled his clothes back on.

Andrew pauses, a brain lag that Andrew hopes Neil takes for him thinking it over. He should be thinking it over. The fleshy matter of his brain, however, is providing him with nothing. 404 Error. Question does not compute.

Neil keeps talking, rambling about the potential risk to Andrew vis-à-vis the people who hurt him, but Andrew is too caught up in the initial proposition to listen. He catches Neil saying in a mutter mostly to himself that the people who are left hate leaving the ocean. Andrew completely tunes him out at that point.

Once Andrew has wrestled his brain into some sort of functioning, he jerks his head towards the tree line, an invitation and answer.

Neil doesn’t move. “Give me a real answer. Yes or no. Let’s figure out Earth together.”

Andrew doesn’t turn back. He glares at a tree as he answers, its thick rough bark does not provide him any insights. Neil continues to stand there, expecting an answer for his pipedream of a question. “Yes, Neil.”