Adrift Collection

by T. J. Land

  “So you’d have us spend the rest of our lives floating aimlessly through space, trapped in this ancient crate, waiting for the life support systems to fail?”

  “Our navigators are working tirelessly to—” began the captain, preparing to launch into a speech they’d all heard at least five times now.

  But this time, Antoine cut him off. “To do what? Even if we knew where the Milky Way was, what good would that do us? It’s impossible for us to get there, scientifically impossible. We are never, ever going home! How long is it going to take you to wake up to that fact?”

  Oh, shit just got real, thought Rick. Everyone in the room stopped breathing, watching them. It wasn’t like Antoine was saying something they didn’t already know. They knew. They knew damn well. But they didn’t talk about it, not like that. Certainly not in front of the captain.

  The captain, whose face had drained of colour, opened his mouth, shut it, and opened it again.

  “Get out of my sight,” he said, a strange rattling sound coming from his throat.

  Even Antoine looked spooked. He took a step back, eyes narrowed, like something feral caught in a trap. Then, all at once, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

  No one said anything. The captain just stood there, fists clenched, with that terrible look on his face. Then he got a hold of himself and grunted, “Get back to work.”

  For the next half hour, the bridge was as quiet as the grave.

  ✩✩✩

  After that complete shitstorm, Rick felt entitled to a little “him” time, so he went to the garden.

  The garden was Rick’s favourite part of the ship. Actually, it was one of his favourite places to be, full stop. If someone gave him a choice between being at home lying on the beach watching girls oil themselves up and being in the garden? No contest. The garden was all his. It was the one place on the ship where no one was more competent than he was.

  At twenty-one, Rick was the youngest member of the crew, and the others loved to give him shit for it. The only one who didn’t was Echo, but he didn’t give anyone shit because he was basically a robot. Everyone else treated him like a brat, as though he didn’t know a damned thing. But in here? In here, he was God. His dad had owned the best flower shop in Salvador, and when Rick was a kid, he’d planned to be a horticulturalist. He knew plants, he liked plants, and plants liked him. The Prayer’s garden had flourished under his touch—the cabbage, the radishes, the broccoli, and the spinach. The crew ate damn well considering their circumstances, and it was all thanks to him. He liked knowing that—and that everyone else knew it too.

  So the garden was understood to be his turf. No one questioned what he got up to in here, even though everyone was aware of the patch, just at the garden’s leftmost edge, where Rick had been growing excellent weed for the last four years. Right now, he was curled up by the spinach with a joint at his side, and as was customary on occasions like this, he’d just finished jerking off.

  When Rick heard the doors slide open and close again, he rolled his eyes and bit back a curse. Typical. The assholes he lived with always had to come wandering in when he was trying to have a little privacy. Maybe they wouldn’t notice him if he stayed down, because as much as he hated being reminded of the fact, he was short.

  He heard footsteps somewhere in the vicinity of the broccoli. They were too heavy to belong to Thomas and too slow for Echo. In fact, they sounded a lot like…

  Carefully, Rick craned his neck up over the spinach leaves.

  Goddamn it all to hell. The captain, of all people, had decided to pay the garden a visit. He was standing at the edge of the broccoli patch, his hands clasped behind his back.

  What the fuck was the captain doing in the garden? Did he also come here to jerk off?

  Not likely, Rick thought. The captain hardly needed to resort to his own hand for companionship. Everyone knew he was fucking Thomas, ever since Thomas—the smug asshole—had started wearing short sleeves so everyone could see the hickeys. And even if Thomas wasn’t available, pretty much every other guy on the ship would hump the captain’s leg if given half the chance. There were a lot of theories as to why, in the year 2195, heterosexual men were a distinct minority on commercial space vessels. Rick’s mom had been a sociologist, and she’d written a long book about extraplanetary same-sex relationship dynamics, which he’d gotten two pages into before all the long words had him throwing it into a corner. Rick, for his part, hadn’t ever dipped his toe in those particular waters, and he doubted he ever would. He liked women, worse luck for him. Of the four on board, Irene was old enough to be his mom, Khali was a lesbian, Cecelia hated him, and Yanmei was way, way out of his league (and probably sleeping with Khali).

  Maybe, now and then, he’d notice that Zachery had impressive biceps, or that Thomas had this one thick, curling lock of hair that looked cute when it fell across his eyes. It didn’t mean anything.

  He craned his head up and looked again. The captain wasn’t doing any of the things people usually came down here to do—which was either smoke weed with Rick or lay on the soil and pretend they were back home having a picnic at the park. The captain was just standing there, back straight, posture perfect. Rick couldn’t see his face, but his head was tilted downwards, as though he was trying to establish a psychic connection with the broccoli.

  Why is everyone I work with so fucking weird?

  Then Rick’s eyes widened. He’d heard a sound, a sound he thought he knew, but it couldn’t be…

  Holy shit. Was the captain crying?

  The quiet noise came again, like a tiny gasp. There wasn’t anyone else in the room but the two of them, and watching very, very closely, Rick detected an almost imperceptible tremble in the captain’s shoulders.

  It scared him more than anything he’d seen in his life (and Rick had seen some shit). Because the captain, their captain, didn’t get upset. Not crying upset. Even when they’d first tried to contact Earth—after the encounter with the enemy had left them drifting who the fuck knew where—and got no response. Or when they’d first looked out the porthole and seen that all the constellations were unfamiliar. And not even when they’d woken up to the fact that not one of them was ever going home, had the captain seemed distressed about it. He’d been angry, scarily angry, but crying? No. Not the captain. Rick had been the one crying—like a bitch—because even though he didn’t have many friends left on Earth, he hadn’t been able to deal with the idea of never seeing his mom again.

  What the hell had happened? Was it just Antoine and his crap? No way. They fought all the time. Rick sometimes thought they enjoyed it. No way was that enough to make the captain cry.

  Maybe he’s had some bad news, Rick thought suddenly. What, though? One of the very few advantages of being lost in space was that they never got bad news. Space was boring as fuck.

  Oh, shit. Maybe he’s sick. Maybe he’s just found a giant tumour in his gut. Or maybe there’s something wrong with the ship, something we can’t repair, and we’re all going to be dead in hours. Or maybe he’s finally run out of brandy.

  The longer Rick crouched there, spying on him, the worse he felt. The smart thing to do would be to stay hidden until the captain left. If he’d come here hoping no one would see him having his nervous breakdown—or whatever the hell this was—chances were he’d be pissed to find out Rick had been watching. So he should probably just…

  Then the captain gave another of those quiet, barely perceptible gasping noises, like someone who was trying as hard as they could not to sob, and something in Rick’s chest twisted.

  Fuck it.

  He stood up and said, “Captain?”

  The captain froze and then turned, as if in slow motion, to look at him. His eyes were red and wet, but he hadn’t let a single drop out onto his face. Thank God. Maybe Rick could pretend he hadn’t heard anything.

  “Ricardo,” said the captain. He didn’t sound pissed—well, yes, he did, but that was just the captain’s normal wa
y of speaking. As casually as he could, Rick crossed over to the broccoli patch.

  “Whadya doing here, sir?” he asked, as though he hadn’t noticed. Most of the crew already thought he was stupid—he was the only one among them who hadn’t finished school—and playing dumb worked pretty well for him.

  Suddenly, it dawned on Rick that even though he’d finished the joint an hour ago, the smell was probably still clinging to his clothes. Fuck. It wasn’t like the captain didn’t know about his hobby, but Rick had always tried to be discreet about it. The captain was so picture-perfect, with his square jaw, clean fingernails, and flawless speech; just being near him made you ashamed of your bad habits.

  The captain didn’t reply, and an awkward silence settled. Rick rubbed the back of his head, trying to think of something to say, but everything he came up with sounded stupid.

  Eventually, when he couldn’t stand it anymore, he blurted out, “Has something bad happened, sir?”

  The way the captain’s stony expression flickered, and the tiny wince that went through him, told Rick he’d fucked up. Should have kept his stupid mouth shut because the captain’s eyes were still wet and…and that looked so wrong, so unnatural. Stupid, Rick. Stupid!

  “No,” said the captain, looking away. “Nothing has happened.”

  And Rick just kept right on talking, like the filter on his mouth was broken. “If…if something has happened, sir, can I…help? Like, at all?”

  Even as he said it, all he could think of was how little he could do, how the others treated him like the most useless member of the crew, and he wasn’t always sure they were wrong. If their captain had a problem even he couldn’t solve, what use could Rick possibly be?

  Once again the captain fell silent, but this time Rick watched him closely and saw his jaw was locked and his brow creased in concentration. It was very similar to the way Rick’s mom had looked the day he’d told her he was joining The Prayer’s crew and he’d be gone for at least three years—like she was summoning every inch of her will not to break apart in front of him. Rick panicked and did the only thing he could think of doing. He took a step forward, raised himself onto the tips of his toes, and gave the captain the tiniest bird peck on the cheek, just like he’d given his mom.

  “Quit crying, sir. Please?”

  As noted, Rick was short, and when they were this close, he had to tilt his head up to meet the captain’s gaze. As he did, he found the captain staring at him as though the kiss had surprised him as much as it had surprised Rick. Then he cupped Rick’s jaw and, bending down, pressed his mouth over Rick’s.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the hell is he…

  Oh.

  …

  Ooooh...

  When he drew back, Rick just gaped at him, slack-jawed, his thoughts scattered about his brain like shrapnel. What the hell had just happened? What the hell had he done? Men weren’t his thing. Yeah, he could admit, the captain was hot. So what? Didn’t mean he liked him. Okay, yes, he liked the captain. The captain was the biggest badass ever. But he was, like, a billion years old—or forty, whatever — and he was a guy. Rick didn’t go in for guys.

  Even if they did smell nice, and their hands were big and warm, and their faces were right there…

  Ah, hell.

  The captain’s beard was scratchy, and his teeth seemed kind of sharp as he dragged them over Rick’s lower lip. Maybe all guys had sharp teeth. Rick wouldn’t know.

  What he did know was that one of the captain’s hands was now pressing into the small of his back, making him arch up and…oh, fuck, press his dick against the captain’s thigh, which was firm and strong and…and…fuck. When the hell had he gotten hard? He’d already gotten off just a half hour ago.

  The captain pulled him closer, and Rick whimpered at the reminder of how strong he was. He could pick me up in one hand, he thought, unable to account for why the prospect made him horny as fuck and a bit dizzy to boot.

  By the time their lips broke apart, allowing them a moment to pant and regard one another, Rick had pretty much finished his personal crisis. He didn’t do guys. But this wasn’t just some guy, this was the captain. The captain was special. And tall, and handsome, and sexy in an old-guy kind of way.

  Maybe I can cheer him up, Rick thought suddenly. Maybe that’s one thing I can do.

  He buried his face in the captain’s chest, which was as warm as a furnace. His heartbeat was steady and strong, and Rick moaned as he felt the captain’s hand slide down the back of his pants to squeeze his bare ass.

  “Do you wanna…sir, do you wanna…”

  He didn’t know exactly what he was offering, other than whatever the captain needed to pep himself up. He knew what guys did together; he wasn’t that young, but just the thought of it scared him to death. On the other hand, he was feeling really good right now, and he sort of wanted to let the captain pick him up and just…use him, however he wanted. Also, there was the little fact that the captain’s erection was now pressing against his own, and yikes, he was fucking huge.

  “May I remove your shirt?” the captain rumbled in his ear.

  “What? Oh. Uh, sure, Captain.”

  Rick knew he was hot—he worked out every day, and he didn’t have any embarrassing tattoos, unlike certain people he could name—but he still felt self-conscious as the captain tugged off his vest. Anyone would. The captain was cut.

  “Hold on,” said the captain, and Rick realised he meant it literally when the captain hoisted him off the ground and held him high enough that his eyes were level with Rick’s collarbone. He didn’t show any sign of exertion at all; it was as though Rick was a puppy instead of a five-foot grown man.

  “Captain…?” Rick ventured. Then, he yelped as the captain licked one of his nipples.

  “You make the most appealing noises,” the captain observed. “Out of interest, have you ever been with a man?”

  Oh, God. This was the part where Rick admitted his experience was limited to a spectacularly bad blowjob from the only girlfriend he’d ever had. After she’d dumped him, he’d been too fucking miserable to do anything besides look around for any off-planet work that would have him. He’d have to admit he was just a dumb fucking kid.

  “Not really, Captain.” Rick had wrapped his arms around the captain’s shoulders, clinging in a way that made him feel childish but helped keep his nerves in check.

  “Oh? Then should I be flattered to be your exception?” the captain asked, as Rick squirmed in his arms. “Or am I your last resort? Perhaps you’ve already tried out the rest of the crew…”

  “Captain!” Rick cried, aware he was being teased. In retaliation, he wrapped his legs around the captain’s waist and landed a kiss on the tip of his nose. “Quit being mean. Only just now found out I’ve got a thing for hot old guys.”

  The captain barked a laugh and gave his ass a swat. And oh, hey, that was surprisingly nice. Hell of a day for untimely revelations.

  “Insolent brat,” the captain said before kissing him again. By this point, Rick was damn near ready to go off, having been stiff as a board for the last five minutes. But he didn’t want to come before the captain did or for the captain to think he was only interested in his own enjoyment, or that he lacked self-control. The captain, he knew, put a lot of store in self-control. So he willed his body to behave and said, “Captain, you… Whatcha want, Captain?”

  He could feel the other man’s cock underneath his ass, pressing against his crack. And yeah, Rick was nervous. He was man enough to admit that.

  “Mm,” the captain mused, nuzzling his neck. “Why don’t you fuck me?”

  The captain was really bad for the shock absorbers in Rick’s brain. But Rick wasn’t a quitter. “Okay, Captain. Sure. Ah…here?”

  “I was thinking of your quarters, actually,” said the captain.

  Ah, hell. Rick winced as he envisioned the catastrophic mess that was his floor, and his bed, and his cupboard, and how the captain would react to his posters of naked ladies
in cowboy hats.

  Maybe if the sex is good enough, he won’t notice.

  ✩✩✩

  As it turned out, Rick was awesome at this whole “fucking men” thing.

  Unless the captain was just a good actor. But even so, Rick had made him come; he could see it drying on the sheets as they lay beside one another, panting. So there was concrete proof he’d done something right. And wow, the captain was pretty when he came, his skin glistening and his eyes dark as coals, and he made this really hot moan too. Rick wished he’d recorded it, so he could play it back every night before he went to sleep.

  “Good work, Ricardo,” the captain said, rolling over and pinning him to the mattress. It smelt like weed, but he hadn’t said anything. “Ten out of ten.”

  “Thanks, sir,” Rick said, both arms around the captain’s waist. The captain, it turned out, was a cuddler. Who knew?

  Rick wanted to ask him again what had been wrong, why he’d been crying, but at the same time, he didn’t want to remind him about whatever it was. So he kept his mouth shut and instead, wondered how long he would need to wait to suggest a second round. He didn’t want the captain to think he was a giant whore or anything.

  “In future, I’d appreciate it if you avoided masturbating in the garden,” said the captain. “I like to maintain a certain standard of hygiene on this ship.”

  “Sorry, Captain. Won’t happen again.”

  The captain made a sceptical noise. “So you say. Even so, I think we’ll do this once a day for the foreseeable future, to ensure you aren’t tempted.”

  “Sounds good to me, sir.”

  ✩✩✩

  Damn.

  The captain soothed his conscience with the reminder that it had been an accident. It wasn’t as though he’d scripted that pointless, ugly argument with Antoine, or he’d wanted Rick to catch him snivelling like a schoolboy, or that he’d ever even considered Rick as a potential romantic companion.

  But he couldn’t say he regretted it in the least. Rick had been perfect, responsive and eager and surprisingly intuitive for a man his age. And, yes, the captain could admit the experience had been a boost to his ego. He’d had several bisexual partners in the course of his life, but there was something deeply flattering about being another man’s first.