"A Stranger's Shore" (Space Pirates)

[riptide_asylum]

Title: A Stranger's Shore
Rating: PG
Summary: Alone on a strange world, Nick thinks things could hardly get worse. Until he hears a familiar voice...

Nick routinely hated shore leave. The gambling, partying and womanizing that interested his fellows left him cold, and the long two weeks on a stranger's shore was an unwelcome reminder of his devastated homeworld. He'd developed the habit of finding the smallest, sleaziest bar, the kind with a back room he could pass out in for the price of a beer, and spending his leave within its shabby walls.

He'd never spent time on Redondo before, but it hadn't taken him long to find Straightaways. It was a tired-looking joint, far too close to the docking station to be fashionable, its walls embellished with an old-fashioned vidscreen. It was so old, the picture wasn't even on live feed; it was just a recorded loop depicting a rolling sea beneath twin golden suns. Towards the horizon, a tiny rainbow-hued craft flew low over the water. Nick found himself watching the little ship's unending flight, and waiting for the jigger as the loop ran back to the start.

The beer was weak, but tasted fresher than some he'd encountered in the past, and Nick settled onto a worn leather stool at the bar and decided he'd found his digs.

He was halfway to the bottom of his third glass when a pretty native sidled up next to him. She was wearing traditional dress: a complicated pattern of lacings making a halter top that barely covered her heavy breasts and a short skirt tied at her waist, made of the finely woven gauze so prized on this world.

"You like my bikini?" she cooed.

"Your what?" Nick blinked. He couldn't figure out if she was asking him for money or trying to pick him up. Or both.

"My bikini!" She pouted a little, tossing heavy gold curls off her shoulders and blinking long lashes over her green eyes. "It's new." She waved at her bodice, and Nick belatedly remembered that bikini was the Redondoan word for the women's traditional dress.

"Very pretty." Nick spared her outfit a glance. He supposed it was, if you liked that sort of thing; color-coordinated in green and white to match her eyes and skin. But the last thing he was looking for was female company. Any company, if it came to that. "Listen, you're wasting your time with me. I got nothing you want, okay?"

"And just how would a man like you know anything about what a girl like me wants?" Eyes twinkling, she moved even closer.

Nick clenched his teeth. The hardest ones to get rid of were the ones who saw him as a challenge. "Believe me, lady. Whatever it is you want, I ain't got it."

"You're Caldarian, aren't you?" she purred, reaching a hand out to touch his cheek, and that was the last straw.

Nick jumped to his feet, knocking his own stool to the ground and sending the lady staggering back a step. "What I am is Unity Space Cavalry, and if you don't want to spend the next month in custody, I recommend you take your leave right now." He was panting like he'd run a race, heart pounding in his chest.

Slowly raising her hands, the woman stepped back, eyes huge and frightened. Nick watched as she retreated towards the door--and suddenly became aware of the other patrons, all staring at him belligerently.

"That was good advice you gave the lady, Mister Unity Space Cavalry," the barman said coolly. "I reckon, if you get out of here before the count of three, you got an even chance of keeping your hide in one piece."

Nick's first impulse was to fight, but he'd learned the hard way that his first impulse was rarely the right one. Or at least one that wouldn't get him killed. Instead, he raised both hands peaceably, and headed for the doors. There was nothing in the dive worth fighting for, especially not the sort of hard and dirty fight the Straightaway's crowd were looking set to deliver.

His uniform had marked him as Unity the instant he'd entered of course, but he'd left his wings and his flightsuit on the ship. There was nothing to show he was Space Cavalry and therefore on active duty; the Unity officers most hated by the natives of nearly every planet in the galaxy.

Someone threw a glass just as he reached the doors, but his reflexes didn't let him down. He ducked and rolled and came up running, out the doors and down the lane at the side. It was years since Nick Ryder had entered a building without having a plan for a quick escape should one prove necessary.

Raucous shouts followed him but no footsteps, and Nick jogged slowly in the direction of the docks. Angry at himself for causing the scene, angry at the woman for taking him off guard. Angry at the Unity for everything it had cost him.

There were more bars down by the docks, but Nick stuffed his hands in the pockets of his regulation jacket and kept walking, head down. After the scene, he wanted a little time to clear his head.

The spaceport loomed on his left, from the ground nothing more than a cluster of billboards and two huge gray towers, leading up to the actual harbor two thousand spans above. Nick quickened his pace, head down, as he passed the two Unity guards stationed at the entrance to each tower. Even if he wanted to go back to the ship, he couldn't: shore leave was mandatory.

Past the spaceport were the cargo terminals. Giant metal cranes towered above stacks of huge metal crates stamped with the Redondoan standard double suns, while sleek black tenders zipped backwards and forwards above them. Now and then, one hovered beside a crane and received one of the crates into its gaping cargo hold.

Nick watched as the latest zipped skywards, up to some huge freighter anchored just inside the atmosphere, far too heavy to make planetfall. When he was a kid, he'd watched the tenders back on Caldara for hours, imagining the freedom of the sky. Never dreaming of the unending prison of space. That was before he'd ever heard of the Unity.

As Redondo's largest sun was setting, Nick arrived at a scrapyard. He stood for a moment at the fence, all thoughts of Unity forgotten. There'd been a junkyard like this on Caldara when he was a kid, and he'd roamed it whenever he'd been able to evade the guy who owned it. One time, he'd even managed to build a space-kart that flew.

He made his way inside, walking slowly amongst the heaps of parts. He could see a shack that was probably the office on his left, but he ignored that and headed down the back. Down to where the wrecked ships sat, sad and grounded.

Nick spent a moment looking over a Xenon Brightstar, a racing model he'd always dreamed of, but this one was in no state to race. Her scarred and pocked hull showed she'd come off worst from an asteroid storm, and Nick shook his head at the lousy piloting that had brought the beautiful craft to her doom. He spared her a pat, and walked on down the line.

The sixth ship he came to brought him up short in her tracks. She was badly damaged - nose crumpled from what looked like a landing crash, and half her tail was missing - but to a Caldarian, nothing could disguise her lines. The heavy round front, and the long, sleek tail that gave perfect maneuverability - Nick took a deep breath. He was looking at a Caldarian S58-T Gunship, one of the last of her kind. Heavy and slow, but to a skilled pilot, the best combat machine ever made.

"Beautiful," he whispered, stroking her nose softly, "how do you come to be so far from home?"

The machine didn't answer, but Nick didn't need her to. Taking her silence as an invitation, he slipped into the damaged cockpit, running his hands over her instrument panels. He'd flown an S58-T precisely once, in Caldara's last fight, with no training and little skill, but even green as he was, he'd managed to send one good shot home.

Nick's brain spun. Finding the ship here was like a sign, but he had no money to buy her, nowhere to keep her, and no time to do the work she needed to fly again. Not to mention the fact that as a bonded slave to the Unity, he had no right of ownership.

As the afternoon cooled beneath Redondo's lesser sun, Nick climbed out of the cockpit and headed towards the tumbledown office. He might not be able to buy the old ship, but he owed it to her to at least find out her name.

"Sir, I want to help you, I do. No-one wants to help more than Tiny Tim, in fact." The unmistakable notes of a used-spaceship salesman came from the office and Nick grimaced, moving sideways so he could get a look through the window. Inside, a short man in his mid forties tricked out in an old-fashioned Unity captain's gear was rubbing his hands, leaning over a desk. "But you have to understand, I can't sell to Unity. Not if I want to keep my license."

Nick tried to see further into the office, but the other person was back towards the door, out of his line of sight. Some Unity scumbag trying to do a dirty deal, no doubt.

"I know all that, Tiny Tim, and I'm not asking you to sell her to me. Not yet. All I'm asking is that you put a hold on the Mary Aberdeen until... until I can make a suitable arrangement." The words were ordinary, but the voice raised all the hair along the back of Nick's neck. A voice like burned honey, rough and sweet, that slicked a trail right down to Nick's core. Nick gulped for air. There couldn't be two guys in the universe who talked like that. Throwing caution to the wind, he pressed his face against the window.

Just inside the door, blond, tall and lanky and currently wearing an expression of frustration, stood the guy Nick had never been able to forget. Cody Allen.

Nick dropped back from the window, all thoughts of Caldara, Unity and S58-T's forgotten. Cody Allen. He'd never imagined he'd see the guy again, even though he'd dreamed it often enough. Prayed for it, truth be told.

Cody was a freeman, not a bonded slave like Nick, but in the maw of the Unity, that made little difference. They'd met on the surface of Terran fourteen months ago, briefly assigned to a mission together. The assignment had turned into a night that Nick would never forget, the heat between them incandescent, the way that Cody had made him feel unforgettable.

Two cogs in the Unity's wheels, they'd been sent their separate ways the next morning with no time for plans or promises or even hope. And that had been the last that Nick had heard - until now.

Nick concealed himself hurriedly behind a bent looking hyperdrive a couple of spans from the door, and settled down to wait. At last Cody came out, accompanied by Tiny Tim, and they both headed for a cabin cruiser on the far side of the yard. Nick followed more slowly, admiring the sway of Cody's ass as he walked and the long, slim line of his back.

The cruiser was an Elco, an ancient luxury vessel made for tourist work. Fitted with one of the newer turboshifts, she'd purr like a kitten, but with her old hyperdrive intact, she'd barely make liftoff. And no shields... the Mary Aberdeen needed work to bring her up to spec. Nick noticed all that in a brief glance, then turned his attention back to Cody.

Tiny Tim was rubbing his hands again, and gestured at the ship. Cody nodded, slowly walking her not inconsiderable length, and then Tiny Tim swung around and headed back towards the office. Nick dodged behind a loose cannon.

Once Tiny Tim had disappeared, Nick slipped out of hiding and jogged slowly beside the big old ship. He couldn't see Cody anymore, but the only logical explanation was that the guy had gone around to the far side of the ship.

Sure enough, he found Cody halfway down the port side, inspecting a damaged hatch. Nick stood for a moment, admiring the strong line of his jaw, and the way the lesser sun turned his hair palest gold.

"Tim, this has gotta knock a thousand credits off the price."

"I'm not Tim," Nick said, his voice sticking in his throat, and Cody swung around, eyes wide with surprise.

"You - Nick? Nick, how - ?" Cody froze, staring, then hurried towards Nick.

"Cody," Nick managed, and then Cody was close enough to touch, close enough for Nick to pull into his arms and hold as though he'd never let go.

Cody made a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh, burying his head against Nick's neck and holding on tight enough that Nick had to struggle to breathe. He didn't mind, though. Given a choice, he'd take Cody over breathing any day.

"You gonna be long with Tiny Tim?" he growled.

"As of right now, I'm done," Cody answered, pulling back to stare into Nick's face. "Nick... how'd you find me?"

Nick shook his head slowly and smiled slightly, even though his eyes were wet. "Pure blind luck," he said, voice shaking. "I didn't even dare look."

Cody nodded. "Me too," he said, a flicker of fear and regret shadowing his face. "If I had gotten you in trouble - " He broke off, and Nick nodded understanding. The Unity looked with suspicion on interpersonal relationships of any kind between its troops. To Command, they were virtually interchangeable - no more than a number with a skillset attached - and crew members taking a personal interest in one another were firmly discouraged. Let alone the kind of interest that Nick and Cody took in one another.

Nick slipped unseen out of the scrapyard, while Cody took hurried leave of Tiny Tim, and the two of them met a block away as if by chance. Falling in step beside Nick, Cody shot him a sideways grin. "Where we going, big guy?"

"I'm a stranger here," Nick muttered, glancing around suspiciously. "But most of these planets got some cheap dives down by the docks. Some of 'em don't even have bedbugs."

"I can hardly wait." Cody chuckled as though he was having the best day of his life, and Nick snuck a peek at him under his lashes. The way the guy was grinning, it might even be true, and Nick's heart lifted at the thought.

Round a corner, they came to the start of what was obviously Redondo's red light district, and Nick smirked. "Now we're getting somewhere."

"Right there, I'd say." Cody pointed at a fritzing neon sign on the other side of the street.

"Rooms by the hour or the day." Nick grinned. "They're not subtle, anyhow."

"Right now, I'm not looking for subtlety." The look Cody shot Nick was hungry, and sent all Nick's blood rushing south. Fast.

Nick went in alone, showing his Unity pass in lieu of cash, and the proprietor shrugged. "You want company?"

"No," Nick snapped, and the man shrugged again.

"You change your mind, you call. Round here, I can git you jist about anything you want, you unnerstand?"

Nick waved impatiently, and took the key. "I wont change my mind." He let himself into the room, unobtrusively dropping the key as he did so, and a few minutes later Cody followed.

"Don't think anyone saw." Cody was grinning broadly, and dropped the key on the tired-looking table. Other than the table, the only furniture in the room was a sagging bed with a dark brown coverlet. "Any bedbugs?"

"Haven't been bitten yet." Nick grinned as wide as Cody, standing up from the edge of the bed. "Man, Cody... thought I'd never see you again."

"Didn't let myself think that," Cody whispered, and reached for Nick.

Cody was as beautiful as Nick remembered him, golden and shining, and every touch between them sent thrills through Nick, deeper and truer than anything else had ever touched. Cody tasted of summer and freedom and life, and Nick drank deep, taking all Cody had to give and giving everything in return.

There weren't any words for what passed between them that afternoon, and long into the sunlit Redondoan night. All that Nick could say was that holding Cody made him stronger, better, more real somehow, and that every time he looked into Cody's eyes and saw Cody's joy, his own heart overflowed.

"I can't ever leave you again," Nick whispered as Redondo's lesser sun sank into the pearl gray dawn.

"I know," Cody replied, snuggling closer into Nick's arms.. "What are we going to do?"

"There's a freedom scheme," Nick said coolly. "I can trade a year on Ganner's moons for my freedom. If I take that now, and you petition for a turn on Ganner as a guard, we could - "

"Nick, no!" Cody tensed, pulling away. "I can go to Ganner, that's no problem, but Ganner's moons... buddy, there's only about a twelve percent survival rate."

"That's high enough," Nick said firmly. "I won't leave you, Cody, I promise."

"That's a promise you might not be able to keep on Ganner's moons," Cody said grimly. "No, Nick, there's got to be a better way. I start a new post next week, and maybe I can get that changed."

"To Ganner, you could. Anywhere else, more difficult. Are you posted on Redondo? Maybe I could desert."

"Nick, talk like that'll get us both shot." Cody raised a finger to his lips. "And no, it's not on Redondo. It's a Cavalry post, on board the Unity ship Blue Diamond, out of - "

"Copernicus." Nick cut him off, hardly able to breathe. "Cody! Cody, that's my ship. That's MY post. We're together."

"We are?" Cody stared at Nick, incredulous, then started to laugh. "Buddy, that's... that's magic."

Nick thought of the bikinied whore whose machinations had driven him from the seedy bar. Without her, he'd never have found the Caldarian gunship. He'd never have found Cody again. "You know what?" he said slowly. "Perhaps it is. At any rate, the Goddess seems to be looking out for us."

"I sure hope so." Cody sighed and reached for Nick again. "So that means we're both on shore leave, am I right? With... nothing to do for a week?"

"Nothing except this," Nick said contentedly, and claimed Cody's mouth again.