Chrysalis Corporation

by T. A. Venedicktov

  Damion

  DAMION ENTERED his dark quarters with a long sigh, rubbing his eyes as he tried to get his thoughts back in order after his walk back from Juni. He sat down on the bed to remove his boots and was surprised when he saw the blankets move. “You’re awake?”

  “I have been in a state of awareness for a while now, yes.” Requiem peeked out of his cocoon, his gaze meeting Damion’s.

  Damion was unable to help the laugh that bubbled out of him at the sight. “You look like one of those odd insect pods they grow on Lunar for the silks. Are you feeling okay? Cold?”

  “I am fine,” Requiem replied, his gaze intent on Damion’s face. He shifted until he was in an upright position, still somehow making it look graceful even while he fought the blankets. The fabric slipped from his head, revealing his shock of white hair standing up in nearly all directions.

  Damion reached out and combed Requiem’s soft hair back from his forehead. “You feel any better or still tired?”

  “Both,” Requiem admitted after a moment, his eyes closing. He moved his head to follow the movement. “I do not feel as tired as I did before.”

  “That’s a plus. Tomorrow you’ll almost feel normal, and after a while you’ll be able to jack back into your computer.” Damion touched the port on the base of Requiem’s skull. “You can look up what treats are and such. If you don’t like the leave to Lunar, then I won’t take you off ship again, deal?”

  Requiem opened his eyes a mere slit for a moment to look at Damion silently before closing them again. “If that is acceptable to you. I am your Core, to do with as you wish. If you wish for me to leave the ship with you again, I will accommodate you,” he said.

  A barely audible sigh left Requiem as Damion moved his fingers through Requiem’s hair.

  “I don’t want you to be bored.” Damion continued petting him. “You still not hungry?”

  “As long as the capsule remains in my possession, I will never be unoccupied with things to do.” Requiem didn’t notice that he was relaxing more and more and because of that, drifting closer to Damion until he was nearly leaning on him. “I do not require sustenance at this time, thank you.”

  “All right.” Damion took his hand away slowly, reluctantly. “Let’s lie down so we can get some rest—or more rest, in your case.”

  Requiem’s eyes blinked open, glancing for a moment at Damion’s hand and then up to Damion’s face, and nodded. “As you wish.” Requiem unwrapped the blankets from his body and smoothed them over the bed so that he didn’t have all of them, and then lay back down, close to the wall.

  Damion smiled as he pulled off his shirt and boots. Requiem still acted like a child at times, always waiting for his approval. Damion was now getting confused. It would be natural to want to protect his Core. The rest of his feelings were purely pent-up from not having any time with girls lately. He stripped down to his boxers once he was sure he wouldn’t embarrass himself with his previous unwanted desires. As Damion lay down and rolled to his side, he gave Requiem another small smile. He wanted to protect him and that was what was provoking this… need. Nothing else.

  Damion tucked the pillow under his head, then opened his arms. “Come here, I’ll keep you warm.”

  Requiem hesitated for a moment before obeying, sliding under the blankets and into Damion’s arms while facing him. He was smaller than Damion, and it was easy for him to curl up into Damion’s hold, resting face to chest as an arm around his neck helped keep him close.

  “Are you positive that you are comfortable? I would not want to be an inconvenience to your sleeping pattern.”

  “Stop asking if it’s all right so often,” Damion chided in a low voice. “If you’re doing something I don’t like, I will tell you. We’re both comfortable and warm. Now just relax. We’ll be on leave before you know it.”

  Requiem nodded silently, arms curled against his chest, and relaxed further against Damion. Damion was happy that Requiem felt safe in his arms. He watched Requiem carefully until he drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Ten

  Saturday August 20, 454 MC

  Relay Station, 0953 GMT

  Damion

  DAMION WAS used to picking out clothing for himself but not others. As he stood in front of a rack bursting with all cuts of pants and jeans, he felt overwhelmed. The relay station was always busy with people traveling to this planet or the next. Juni, though, was right at home and had 108 already in a dressing room trying things on.

  “You ever wear jeans?” Damion asked his nervous-looking Core.

  They were getting more stares than Juni and 108 since Requiem had an albino look that usually only appeared in the residents of distant Pluto. It was more because of that than the fact he was a Core. Plutonians were rarely ever seen, since the planet was not only small and cold, but primarily held a combination of several research facilities. The scientists who resided there were hermits, introverts more interested in their work than traveling or interacting with the other galactic residents. To see one was rare. A Core from there was a complete anomaly.

  Requiem, to say the very least, was extremely out of his element. His ports had still not completely healed, so he couldn’t wear his uniforms, and even if he could have, Damion insisted they were out of the question and Requiem left them back on the Zeus. He had borrowed a set of Juni’s clothes since he and Juni were more similar in size than he and Damion, but they were still a little baggy.

  “Jeans? No. I have only worn my uniforms or other materials I have been given to wear by the Corporation.”

  “I have no idea what size you are either. Do you know your measurements?” Damion picked up a few different styles in the smallest sizes he could find in waist circumference. “Let’s start with these. Go into the rooms there, and I’ll try and find you a few shirts.”

  Requiem shook his head and took the pants slowly, clasping them to his chest as his gaze flicked first to the dressing room, then to Damion, and back again. “Negative, I do not know my clothing size,” he replied softly before turning and walking into the dressing room to try on the pants given to him.

  Damion was still looking for shirts when Requiem exited the dressing room.

  “They all fit appropriately. Although these are a bit too long.” Requiem kept his gaze toward the floor as he held out the two he spoke of to Juni. His gaze was almost always focused toward the floor. Unless he was walking, and then he kept them as far down as he could without walking into anything.

  “That’s great!” Juni smiled, turning to 108. “I think 47 might have a bit more weight than you and even be a bit taller, 108. You sure you’re not spliced with a girl?”

  “That isn’t funny,” Damion snapped at his fellow Fighter.

  “Damn, man, calm your tits.” Juni huffed. “It was a joke.”

  “Not funny. He’s—they—are both men.” He turned, handing Requiem a few shirts. “Go find one to wear for now. Are you cold still? Do you want a jacket?”

  “It’s not cold once we leave the relay station and land on the colony,” Juni announced proudly. Despite Damion’s original thoughts and judgment when they first met in basic, he had since learned that Juni was not the type of person to consciously flaunt his wealth or family status, but he was proud of where he came from. It was a thin line between the two, but the bright, outgoing man never made you feel lower than him. If anything, Juni’s clumsiness made him seem below his Fighter title.

  Requiem’s gaze flicked up to Damion. Damion was easily shuffling clothing around so that he could grab a shirt. Requiem seemed to be trying to ignore the stares that he was receiving from civilian shoppers. “If it is not an inconvenience, I would appreciate a jacket,” he said quietly so that only Damion could hear him.

  Damion noticed Requiem’s shoulders curling forward and his head bowed lower. He realized Requiem was trying to make his presence as small as possible in a crowd of people who crossed his path and stared at his exposed ports.

  Damion reached ou
t and ruffled Requiem’s hair affectionately. “Hey. It’s all right. Just go put on a shirt, and I’ll be right back with a jacket.”

  “He’s skittish,” Juni said as they watched Requiem head off. Juni gave a look to 108, who appeared tense as well. “Or they are, I guess, a bit.”

  “They’ll be fine. They’ve probably never been off ship before, unless they were being transported to another ship.”

  Damion waited for Requiem to come out of the dressing room. When Requiem walked out and stood next to 108, he was wearing a shirt that was the same color as his eyes. Damion was positive Requiem had no idea how tightly it clung to his chest and arms. The shirt served its purpose and covered his skin and ports. Or at least most of them.

  108 looked as wary as Requiem himself, but dressed in black slacks and a matching shirt, oddly tight on his dark frame as well.

  “I like it. Wait here.” Damion turned and left them for a moment.

  After searching the racks, he came back with a light synthetic jacket and handed it over to Requiem. “Give me what you have in your arms there so I can buy them.”

  “Let me buy it all,” Juni offered. “It’s coming out of my allowance, and most of that’s been saved since we don’t spend much on the Zeus.”

  “I can buy him clothes.” Damion frowned. “I’m not that poor.”

  “You can’t take money with you when you croak.” Juni took out his ID card, which was linked to his bank account, and waved over the happy-looking clerk.

  Requiem handed the clothes to Damion.

  Damion and Juni continued to argue as the clerk rang up the two Cores’ clothes. Damion had a feeling it would come to this, but luckily he could charm the clerk more than Juni.

  He was able to pick up most of Requiem’s new clothing and almost felt bad for the two Cores standing together, looking so lost. Most other people would call Requiem and 108’s expressions bland and even say they were expressionless, but after spending nearly every waking moment with his Core, Damion knew better. The tightness around Requiem’s lips and eyes showed unease.

  Damion waited for Juni to grab his bags before waving at the Cores. “Let’s go. We need to get you two fed before we catch the midday Lunar transport.”

  “What do you want to eat?” Juni asked 108 as they exited the store. “There’s some good and insanely spicy Mars cuisine.”

  108 lifted his gaze to meet Juni’s before looking over to Requiem and then back at Juni again. “Whatever you wish to consume is fine,” 108 answered softly, barely heard over the voices of the crowd.

  Requiem and 108 were walking in between Damion and Juni, which the Fighters had insisted on for their Cores’ protection. Not every eye that looked upon them was curious; some were calculating, looking first to the Cores and then the Fighters who accompanied them, as if judging them and their strength.

  There was a small, though lucrative, underground market for Cores.

  So the Cores walked in the middle. Requiem was as close as he could get to Damion without actually impeding his movement as they approached a large area that primarily contained restaurants. There were fifteen different self-serve areas and four clerk-run vendor stations, those were more expensive, and the one large full-service restaurant and bar. Juni had the credits and patience to deal with the crowd of people who would be inside there. Juni said it was spicy, and while Mars was known for spicy food, Damion knew there was more taste than heat when his mom cooked. It was the media and food market that produced it far spicier than the meals his mom cooked in her kitchen.

  Damion noticed most of the self-serves were offering local favorites. There were a few names Damion recognized from home on the signs. One sign was Matchellos and even had a clerk. He had picked up a habit of eating at those counters when he lived back on Mars. It was self-service at home. He wondered if the food was different if someone handed it to you.

  “You can go to that restaurant if you want,” Damion told Juni. There was a low roar from the crowded room so he spoke louder, “but I am not going to let that stuff rot 47’s guts.” He knew better than to have Requiem eat something extra spicy. It would just hurt his stomach later. “I’ll pick up a few sandwiches from a vendor. I can smell the grilled bread from here.”

  “Please do not change where you wish to receive sustenance on account of me. I am not all that hungry as it is,” Requiem mildly protested, but only Damion would hear it as such. Anyone else would merely assume he was trying to appeal to his Fighter’s good side in that monotone voice.

  “Juni likes to burn the lining of his stomach off all the time, but that doesn’t mean we have to as well.” Damion gave Juni a look. “Meet you at the docking stations?”

  “Sure. Only thing I can smell is that curry and peppers from inside there. Won’t take us long to eat. Twenty?”

  “You better make it fifteen, or they may leave your ass behind,” Damion teased as the pairs split ways once they entered the large food court.

  Requiem

  NOW THAT he didn’t have Juni and 108 on the other side of him, Requiem made sure to always be touching Damion in some way, as if Damion was his security blanket. He kept his gaze down through the busy hallways of the relay station. It was full of people he didn’t know, in a place that was completely and utterly alien to him. So yes, he was a little on edge. Not to mention he was worried for 108 even though the other Core seemed to be taking the whole experience in better stride than he was.

  Damion reached out and took Requiem’s hand and nearly dwarfed it in his own. “Do you like chicken?” He did not wait for an answer. “Never mind. I’ll just order.”

  Requiem held on to Damion’s hand tightly, keeping himself partly hidden behind him and not speaking until Damion had finished ordering. “I do apologize. It seems I do not quite have the aptitude for leaving that which I know. Perhaps it would be easier for you if I took a transport back to the Zeus. I do not want to be a burden during your leave. This is not exactly a situation in which you will be able to relax.” His voice was quiet and hesitant.

  Damion shook his head. “No, if I left you on Zeus, then I would only worry. I’m used to you by my side.” He coughed and cleared his throat. “Continue to stay close, and it will all be fine.”

  “Why would you worry? I resided on the Zeus without you for approximately three years and rarely had confrontations.”

  Even saying those words, Requiem knew it had become increasingly difficult for him to be separated from his Fighter. And with his current state of health, although it was improving, he still wouldn’t be able to jack in to the computer system and work with projects that would keep him distracted.

  “Do you hate spending time with me that much?” Damion teased as he handed Requiem the bag of clothes. “Here. I need to carry the food.”

  Requiem blinked, eventually releasing Damion’s hand so that they could each take what they needed to. “I do not hate, so that is not a possibility. I have no reluctance to being with you in any way.”

  “Then stop asking to go back to the ship.” Damion walked toward an open two-person table. “We will eat and then put up with Juni’s babbling all the way to his parents’. I heard him say they had a community pool.”

  Requiem took a tentative bite of the chicken that Damion had ordered for him, and then, finding the taste agreeable, took a larger one. “I apologize. I was merely trying to make your leave more relaxing for you.” He paused, thinking about what else Damion had said. “Is this pool large?”

  “You never been to a pool? Well, I hadn’t either until I joined the Corp, but it’s a large hole with clean water, and it’s rather fun,” Damion explained between large hungry bites.

  “I will have to take your word for it.” Requiem ate slower than Damion, savoring the food and the flavors in it. “I must admit that I have an… aversion to being submerged in water.”

  He couldn’t stand to be surrounded by water in a tub, let alone anything larger. It brought back fragmented memories of his childhood t
hat he’d rather not remember.

  “I saw that you were stressed in Medical that one time in the tank.” Damion had become patient in waiting for Requiem to eat and to speak throughout the time they had been together. “Why?”

  Requiem’s gaze flicked up to Damion’s and then back down to the food that he was now pushing around with his fork. “When Cores are young, mere infants, we are put in sensory deprivation tanks to help us along the path to cease feeling. Feeling emotions, feeling senses, anything. It helps us connect with the system better if we can ignore what is going on with our bodies. To most, there is no lasting effect. For me… there is. I am no longer comfortable in small places and with liquid surrounding me.”

  Damion nodded. “That’s why you hate going to Medical. That, and the doctors keep wanting to run experiments. I understand, but a pool is much larger, and you may enjoy it. You can swim, can’t you?”

  “That is exactly why Medical is a place that I am wary of visiting,” Requiem replied, continuing to push around his food. “No, I was never taught how to swim, nor was learning encouraged. It is not an activity the Corporation approves of us participating in.”

  “I think you will catch on quick since you’re smart. Try and get a few more bites down before we have to leave.” Damion reached out and ruffled Requiem’s hair. “Please. You’re already too skinny.”

  Requiem briefly closed his eyes under the hand but reopened them as soon as it was absent. He pierced another piece of chicken with his fork. “I am of acceptable weight for my body type,” he insisted before taking a bite.

  “Not to me, so eat up.” Damion chuckled warmly. “I don’t want you to be so skinny, and I’m your Fighter, so you’re supposed to listen to me.”

  “As you order, I obey.”

  “Uh huh.” Damion smiled as he sat back.

  Requiem followed the orders and finished his meal. While doing so, he wondered why the Fighter worried overly so. Damion wasn’t only worrying about his health so that he could stay at peak performance levels to function as a Fighter’s Core—he genuinely cared about Requiem’s well-being.