Adrift Collection

by T. J. Land

  I’m checking him out, Zachery realized. Huh. That’s new.

  Actually, why was he surprised? Insofar as he had a type, Antoine was it—sexy, bitchy, too smart for his own good. Zachery hadn’t ever hated the guy, at least, not until Antoine had zapped his balls, and in retrospect, that was partly his own fault. Getting on Antoine’s nerves was so damn easy.

  Zachery smiled wolfishly. Well, well, well. He had a crush on First Officer Prissyboots. Interesting. And with only each other for company… Might as well find out if the feeling was mutual.

  ✩✩✩

  They made it back outside and found the equipment they needed. Then the captain said, “Only Rux and I will be going back in.”

  As Irene and Thomas erupted in protest and Echo frowned, he held up a hand for silence. “The decision is made. I don’t imagine we’ll need more than four pairs of hands to transport Zachery’s spare parts. We’ll stay in contact, and I doubt we’ll be more than an hour.”

  “Sir,” said Thomas, “with all due respect, earlier you said it was dangerous to split up.”

  “That was when we were all inside the facility. Now that we’re out, it makes sense that some of us remain out here, out of danger, so that they can go back to The Prayer and get help if it becomes necessary. If anything goes wrong in there, Rux—who, I remind you, can turn into a large predatory animal—will protect me and the others at least as well as you can with your rifle, Thomas. Echo is in charge until I return. If you lose contact with us, you are to wait an hour and then return to the ship. Understood?”

  Thomas and Irene gave gloomy murmurs of assent. Echo nodded.

  As Rux and the captain walked back into the building, the alien said, “Echo is the mute, yes?”

  “That word is vulgar, and you will not use it again,” said the captain, wondering where he’d heard it in the first place. Every scrap of English Rux knew he’d learned from them.

  “Very well. I must ask; why leave him in charge? He does not seem to possess the force of personality necessary to command men.”

  “My men don’t need commands. They need leadership. Echo knows them and has earned their respect.”

  “Really? I have overheard young Rick refer to him as ‘creepy’.”

  “A joke, nothing more.”

  “Ah. I see. Is Echo aware that it was a joke? From what I could deduce from his expression at the time he was distressed by the remark.”

  He was? The captain knew when his back was turned his crew would occasionally utter unnecessary remarks about Echo and his oddness. Though he worked to discourage it, he’d always thought Echo was unaffected by such things. It concerned him to hear otherwise. At the same time, he was impressed by Rux’s assessment. Even the most empathetic human would find Echo difficult to read. That the alien could pick up on his unhappiness suggested that Rux had more depth than he had suspected.

  The two of them made their way down the same passageways they’d come in by before. Rux pushed the dolly while the captain checked in with Antoine via the comms and ascertained that he and Zachery were still in one piece. They were still another five-minute’s walk from the room where the two men were confined when the captain’s com went dead. At the same moment, there came a siren, low-pitched and seeming to be coming from behind them and ahead of them at once.

  “Rux?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The captain sighed. “When we’re back at the ship we will have a conversation about the surprising number of things you don’t know. Let’s pick up the pace.”

  When they reached what the captain was certain was the right corridor, the doors weren’t there.

  “Have we come the wrong way?” he murmured, retracing their steps in his mind.

  The squeaking of the dolly’s wheels fell silent as Rux halted. “We must have. Perhaps if we turn…”

  Cutting himself off, Rux looked upward. Shifting into a quadruped not unlike an emerald lion in appearance, he said, “Captain, I think you should climb on my back.”

  “Why?” said the captain, complying as he spoke.

  “We are about to be attacked.”

  No sooner had Rux finished his sentence than a panel opened up in the ceiling, revealing a canon aimed directly at the captain’s head.

  ✩✩✩

  As soon as the captain and Rux entered the building, Echo turned to Thomas and made a series of movements with his hands.

  That’s new, Thomas thought. Even though all crewmembers had obtained basic fluency in sign language—willingness to learn it had been one of the captain’s prerequisites when they’d first been hired—Echo didn’t often “speak” to them directly. Usually, he kept his responses to nods or shrugs; if there was anything more complicated he wanted to convey he told the captain, who passed it on.

  “You want me to shoot something?” Thomas said, doing his best.

  “He wants us to set up some targets and for you to teach him how to shoot,” said Irene, who’d known how to sign even before she’d joined the crew.

  Thomas thought it was a smart idea. It would give them something to do besides stand around and worry. So they demarcated a danger zone and looked around for something to serve as a target. Not far from the facility, they found a pile of hollow crates, dragged them into position, and drew concentric circles on them. After that, Irene lay back on the grass and had a catnap; she was already a trained marksman.

  First, Thomas showed Echo how to hold the rifle properly, putting a hole in the bullseye at six hundred yards. He’d have liked to put the crate further back and show off a little, but he was out of practice—The Prayer didn’t have a shooting range—and he didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of Echo, who exuded an air of quiet competence with everything he did. From the day he’d met the man, Thomas hadn’t seen him fuck up once.

  “Your turn,” he said, handing Echo the rifle.

  Echo was a good student, a good listener. Though his aim was lousy, he paid attention to Thomas’s instructions on how to improve his grip, and on his eleventh try, he hit one of the targets.

  “That’s great,” said Thomas, clapping him on the shoulder. “Remember to keep your elbow steady. Try it again.”

  As Echo was lining up the next shot, he took one step backwards. Thomas thought it seemed less an absent-minded shuffle than a deliberate repositioning. It left Echo’s back pressing against Thomas’s front.

  At first, Thomas didn’t know what to do. Was it an invitation? Maybe. Echo hadn’t made any effort to correct his stance, and he was leaning back on Thomas’s chest in a way that sure felt intentional.

  An invitation to do what?

  Carefully, Thomas slid his arms around him until his hands enfolded Echo’s hands, still clutching the rifle. He might have been correcting his grip. Or he might have been doing something else. Ball’s in his court.

  The next shot went wide. Thomas had a feeling that neither of them were concentrating on what they were supposed to be doing.

  Wow, Echo’s hair was soft, tickling his nose like duckling feathers. Come to that, he was soft all over, curving thighs, a bit of extra flesh at his stomach. Thomas liked it. The captain and Zachery both had hard, muscular bodies without an ounce of fat to spare, and while Rick wasn’t at their level, he still worked out regularly and had a wiry strength in his limbs. Echo, so far as Thomas knew, didn’t exercise at all.

  “Your hair’s nice,” Thomas mumbled, feeling like a clumsy adolescent. It wasn’t a lie, however dumb it sounded.

  Without turning round, Echo tilted his head up, giving Thomas what felt one hell of a lot like a nuzzle. Emboldened, Thomas pressed forward so there wasn’t a millimetre of space between their bodies. Echo’s hands, still enfolded within his own, were damp. Perhaps Thomas wasn’t the only one out of his depth.

  Just as Thomas was getting comfortable, Echo broke away, looking over his shoulder towards Irene. She was lying on the grass with her hands behind her head, and Thomas thought she might be asleep. Catc
hing Thomas’s gaze, Echo nodded in the direction of one of the nearest ruined buildings.

  “What? Oh. Fuck, I…okay. Sure.”

  Bemused, Thomas let Echo lead him by the hand until they were shielded from the sun and scrutiny in the lee of a crumbling wall.

  “This isn’t going to fall over and squash us, is it?” Thomas said to the air, putting the rifle aside. He was nervous, halfway elated, unsure of why he’d been chosen instead of Zachery or Rick. He knew Echo had a thing going on with the captain, and that the captain thought Echo would join the rest of them at some point. Thomas had doubted it. If Echo had had an eye on any of them, he’d kept it to himself. No flirting, no smouldering looks, not even on the numerous occasions when he’d walked in on them mid-tryst to bring the captain his laundry. Thomas had begun to think he wasn’t into sex at all. He’d never shown any interest in Rick’s porn collection.

  “We shouldn’t be too long,” Thomas said half to himself, as he fumbled with his suit. “Don’t want captain to come out and wonder where we’ve gone.”

  Echo, meanwhile, had been removing his own suit. Now he turned and let Thomas get his first good look at him. Like Thomas had guessed, he was smooth and soft. No definition to his abs. Not much chest hair either. Maybe he shaved. The mastectomy scars were a surprise, mostly because of how visible they were; technology on Earth had long since advanced past the point of leaving marks perceptible to the naked eye. But then, hadn’t Echo come from some or other backwater colony on the moon? Everyone knew those poor fuckers were a century behind the rest of the solar system. Figured that they’d still be using scalpels and stitches.

  Do I act like I haven’t noticed?

  Echo was watching his face, Thomas realised. Recording his reaction, analysing it somewhere deep in that quiet mind of his. Ah. Maybe this was why he’d decided to do this now, miles from the ship and the rest of the crew. He hadn’t known whether or not Thomas would make a scene. Out-of-date technology was far from the worst thing about living on the moon.

  The tension was killing Thomas’s erection, so to break it, he said, “That’s nothing. Check this out.”

  He finished unzipping his suit and slid it off. The second Echo saw the stupid-ass cartoon hawk perched on Thomas’s ribcage, he laughed. Enchanted—he’d never seen Echo smile before, much less laugh—Thomas struck a pose. “Classy as fuck, isn’t he? You know, this piece of shit cost me two month’s salary.”

  Biting his lip, his cheeks red, Echo came over and stroked its feathers like it was a real bird. Then his hand slid downwards and started stroking Thomas. Thomas moaned and dragged him in, bracketing his thighs with his own longer legs.

  “C’mere, you,” he said, burying a hand in Echo’s hair.

  Echo wasn’t nearly as passive a lover as Thomas would have expected. He pushed him back against the crumbling wall with surprising strength and spent a moment just looking at him, his gaze intense and focused.

  “You wanna have me? Right here?” Thomas whispered.

  Echo nodded. Ingenious creature that he was, he produced a small bottle of lube from one of the pockets on his suit.

  You planned this, you sneaky fucker, thought Thomas, thrilled.

  When Echo also got out a pair of thin, translucent plastic gloves, he held them up for Thomas’s inspection.

  “Sure, that’s cool,” Thomas said, remembering the captain’s once mentioning that Echo had a thing about germs.

  He was, however, glad that Echo didn’t put them on right away. When he turned around and braced himself against the wall, he liked the sensation of Echo’s soft palms mapping out the muscles in his back.

  Echo didn’t rush things. He was damn near leisurely about it. Thomas, who had followed him into the shade of the wall in anticipation of a two-minute quickie, might have protested if the frustration hadn’t been turning him on, working him up just as much as the teasing strokes and squeezes Echo kept giving his shaft. Even so, Thomas tried his best to keep his mouth shut. Apart from the possibility that Irene might wake up and hear them, he was also aware that Echo wasn’t making any more noise than he normally did. Thomas thought he might prefer it if he followed suit.

  His restraint wasn’t limitless. When Echo’s gloved fingers slid into him, then out, then in again, he whimpered, “Oh, Jesus, that’s right.”

  Echo honoured him with another laugh, this one dark and velvety.

  It didn’t take long after that for Thomas to start giving the needy-bitch whines he normally reserved for the captain. He was first past the post, biting his lip as Echo milked him dry.

  “You know, I thought surviving a spaceship crash was going to be the best thing that happened to me this week,” he sighed, as Echo slowly withdrew his fingers.

  He turned around on shaky legs, taking in Echo’s flushed cheeks and bright eyes. Fuck, he’s so cute. He was about to reach for his dick when he remembered that all he knew was that Echo had a dick. He had no idea where Echo had received his surgery. Of the two trans guys Thomas had been with before, one hadn’t gone in for surgery and the other had lived on Earth all his life. If they were still leaving mastectomy scars on the moon, what were the chances Echo would have had access to the sort of technology that would enable Thomas to show off his legendary handjob skills?

  “Can I jerk you off?” he asked.

  Echo, who still hadn’t stepped away from his body, shook his head.

  Wait, does that mean that he doesn’t want me to jerk him off or that I literally can’t jerk him off?

  Thomas leaned in close, getting another face full of soft baby duck hair as Echo kissed his neck. “What’ll it be then, baby?”

  Drawing back, Echo looked up at the sky, assessing the position of the sun, then looked pointedly in the direction they’d come from. No need for a translator: We should get back before we’re missed.

  Disappointed, Thomas deliberated with himself before saying, “So…does this mean we’re friends?”

  Suddenly Echo—so purposeful and collected up to this point—looked wrong-footed. He shrugged and nodded at the same time.

  Thomas kissed him chastely, before saying, “Because I’d really like us to be friends. Or whatever it is you want us to be. I’m… I mean, you know about the captain and Zachery and Rick. I don’t know what you think about that. I don’t want you getting the idea that I want to add you to my…my collection, or whatever. It’s not like that. I want you, I want to do this again, and… See, I’m not sure exactly what it is you want, but—”

  Wow. For someone who didn’t use his tongue much in day-to-day life, Echo sure knew how to use it when it counted. His eyes were dark and mischievous as he pulled away from the kiss. Before Thomas could start babbling again, Echo picked up the rifle—carefully, the way Thomas had shown him—and started to walk back to the facility.

  “Huh,” said Thomas, running his thumb over his lips. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure what the fuck had just happened. But he thought he liked it.

  Chapter Five

  “They’ve been gone too long.”

  “Hmm?” said Zachery, startled from his reverie. He’d been working on his opening line—something incorporating “Voulez-vous couchez avec moi?” seeing as that was the only French he knew, and he wanted Antoine to understand that he was an educated man.

  Antoine had quit pacing and was standing by the doors with his hands on his hips. “It’s been an hour and a half. It took us less than an hour to get to this room in the first place. They should have been back by now.”

  His heart sinking, Zachery checked his suit’s clock. First Officer Prissyboots had a point. “You think something’s happened to ’em?”

  “How should I know?” Antoine snapped. “I’ve been trying to get a response on the comms for the last five minutes. Nothing.”

  Zachery tried his own and received only ominous silence in reply. “Okay. That sucks. Listen, what if we…”

  With a gentle hiss, the doors slid open.

  “Captain!”
said Zachery, a grin breaking out. But when he stared into the corridor, there was no one there.

  “What made them open?” he murmured as they stepped out of the lab, half expecting the doors to slide closed on them before they’d crossed the threshold.

  “A poltergeist, for all I know. Come on; let’s get back to the ship.”

  The hallway was eerily quiet without the rest of the crew chattering in the background. Antoine strode ahead while Zachery dogged his heels, carrying the DG ring replacement and as many other spare parts as he could carry. Before they’d gone more than fifty metres, they heard a noise, a low siren coming from somewhere up ahead and somewhere behind them at the same time.

  “Hell’s that?” Zachery said.

  “Why do you keep asking me things I have no way of knowing, Mister Halberstam? I can only conclude that you revere me as an omnicognisant deity.”

  The siren stopped. It came back after a seven-second break, then cut off again, and continued on like that, coming and going off every seven seconds. Zachery couldn’t work out where the hell it was coming from; it didn’t get any louder or softer as they made their way down the passage. To keep his mind from morbid speculation as to what it might mean, Zachery tried to make conversation. “So, Ant—you’re not married?”

  “What? No.”

  “No boyfriends or girlfriends back home?”

  “No. Wait, are we going the right way? This passage looks different.”

  It did—cleaner, fewer cracks in the walls. Zachery’s spine tingled. He was sure this was the way they’d come before. “We must have made a wrong turn. Let’s go back to the lab and start over.”

  “By the way,” Zachery added after a few moments of silent walking, “seeing as how we’re crewmates… Well, I don’t like to think that there should be any big secrets between us…”