I am not your load to bear - Chapter 3 (Early Access) (Patreon)

Dillan

“Are you a female or a fella?”

The deep voice came from behind, and Dillan was slow to turn, unsure if they were speaking to him. He had believed he was alone in the cargo hold. Leafing through paperwork on top of a rogue crate, it was fairly clear he was busy. When he did check the speaker over his shoulder, it was the blond man. The one that Bexley said had flirted with him. Tristan. He was staring right at Dillan with eyes like the water on a human informational poster. Unnaturally reflective. Dillan turned fully and leant his lower back against the wooden box.

He considered the question. ‘Fella’ was a new word to him, but he guessed he was being asked for his gender. Human language revolved heavily around it.

“Um, I’m a man,” said Dillan, despite having only picked his ‘human’ gender because it fit closest to his Ailu’t one. The Ailu’t had a far longer list of choices than humans. He had been tempted to select ‘non-binary’ but that didn’t quite fit either. He was on the masculine side of the spectrum. At the time he also hadn’t understood how seriously humans would take this decision, made in a split second on an electronic form.

Sometimes he wished he could be a genderless rock watching the world go by; it would be far less confusing not having to identify his being into so many arbitrary categories. This was where his mind often wondered when he should be filling in spreadsheets. Or following a conversation that he was a part of.

Whatever Tristan said next, it ended with, “lunch.”

Dynasty flicked his wrist out to check his watch. It wasn’t lunchtime.

Tristan gave him a concerned look, as though he had just taken a severe knock to the head.

“Sorry, I think I misunderstood.”

“What’s the name of that guy you were with yesterday at lunch? You work with him, right?”

“Bexley?” It seemed strange to Dillan that Bexley wouldn't have given his name during the flirting ritual that had taken place at his barrier. A sudden realisation struck that maybe his friend didn't want his information shared with this potential suitor.

“He work in the office with you?” Tristan coaxed.

Dillan shrugged, no longer certain as to what he should or shouldn't share.

"You both work the booths, so I know you're a pair."

The Alliance had 'paired' up Ailu’t and human workers together to ensure there was always an equal designation for each field supplied by each race. Even the positions of commander and Marine major were treated as a pair. There had to be one of each per Alliance spaceship. Commander Laurel was the only human commander in the trial.

“Yes, we’re both documentation officers," Dillan admitted reluctantly.

“Think you can get me in there?”

“You want to come to the office?”

Tristan blinked incredulously. “No, I want your friend,” he said almost offensively slowly. “I wanna get in your friend.” After a tense pause, he added a grumbled, “He’s cute.”

"I don't have any control over Bexley's love choices."

"No one said anything about love, pigtails, I'm just trying to get a sleepover with him."

Dillan tried his best to remember the phrase 'pigtails' to check in his translator later. For now he pretended to know what it meant and gave Tristan a sour look, assuming based purely off the tone it was said with that it was an insult.

"If he were interested in your offer, you wouldn't need to bother me,” Dillan replied. “Maybe your flirting is the issue, rather than your connections."

Bexley hadn't explicitly said that he wasn't interested. But he had poked fun at Tristan's attempts. Perhaps he wanted Tristan to try again and do better next time.

"You think I can't get anyone I want?" Tristan's tone had changed. His body hunched over Dillan's threateningly. "I don't need tips from you."

Dillan faltered. He had definitely said something he didn't mean. Because offence was not the intention of his words.

"I was being honest, not rude," he said carefully.

"I don't need your honesty either. I could have him, or you, begging for me.” The way he said the word begging brought a squeezing sensation to Dillan’s lower stomach. “I was just being lazy looking for an easy in."

"Okay.”

"I don't need help."

"Sure."

"Especially not yours."

"I understand."

Tristan huffed, appeared lost for a moment, and stomped away. His shoulder and back muscles were bunched under his plain grey t-shirt. It was only when he brushed past Officer Sovereign leaning against the nearest wall that Dillan registered the guard had ever been present. Her expression was stony.

"Is Cargo Loader Tristan causing you problems, Officer Dynasty?" she called to him.

"Not anymore, Officer Sovereign," Dillan replied in what he hoped was a light-hearted voice. He was a little unnerved by the confrontation, and he couldn't decide how to feel about it until he discussed it with Bexley. If Bexley was concerned, Dillan would be on the verge of a panic attack.

"I don't like what I saw, even if it was only the tail-end," she said with deliberation coating every word. "I'll be watching him more closely in future."

"Thank you, Officer."

Officer Sovereign nodded farewell and pushed off from the wall.

Back in the office, Dillan relayed his eventful afternoon to Bexley. Who, predictably, laughed himself into a fit of clapping and slapping the desk.

"I can't say I wasn't a little interested,” Bexley admitted with a sheepish grin. “That man is fine as hell, and clearly he knows it. But so do a lot of other people on-board.” He leant back in his chair and propped his short legs up on his desk. Small hands stretched out past his head and the tight coils that seemed to spring only from the top of his scalp. “I'm not looking to take a ride with Charlie, Romeo and Indigo's leftovers, at least not without being wooed for enough time first.” He clasped his fingers together where they met above his head and pressed his arms as far back as they would stretch until his bones made a sickening pop sound. Bexley groaned in satisfaction and slid his hands behind the base of his skull. “After this performance, though, I'm thinking we make a pact to wait at least a month before letting that man so much as hold our hands."

“Our?” Dillan repeated. He raised a brow at his friend.

“He said he could have either of us. I say we let him have neither for a month. Think you can hold out?”

"I don't think a month is enough for me," Dillan mumbled. “I will be aiming for the end of the trial.”

"You don't think he's hot?"

Dillan shrugged.

"What's your type?” Bexley laughed to himself. “All I know is that it’s not that guy with the butt-chin that’s always flirting with you!”

“Wh-who?”

“Flicker-something?”

Dillan’s cheeks burned. “Flickering-Hope does not flirt with me!”

“Why are you getting so defensive?” He rolled his eyes and then paused, pupils still pointing up. A look of realisation dawned upon his face, and he looked back at Dillan. “Are you not gay? I just assumed because, you know." He gestured to Dillan's head, no doubt making a silent comment about his hair. Dillan had only found out after being mingled in with the humans that the rituals of hair care and decoration were a female-dominated part of the culture. Most of the human men on board had short hair. A portion of those didn't appear to wash or care for it at all.

"I don't have a preference of gender," Dillan replied, trying his hardest not to sound as cagey as he felt when love and partners were brought into conversation. For once, he would have preferred it if Bexley wished to discuss his bowel movements.

"What about a preference of body type?"

Dillan said simply, "I'm a receiver." He wasn't sure if this was the correct word as he was translating it literally, but Bexley's face lit up when he said it.

"Ailu't call bottoms 'receivers'? Like American football?"

"I don't know what that is."

Bexley howled with laughter. Dillan didn't understand what was funny, so he watched his friend attempt to collect himself. Then repeat the word "receivers" and fall back into his chair laughing again.

"I am also a receiver, Dillan,” he managed to gasp out. "And Tristan is not. So promise me that we're in agreement not to receive anything from him until we've baited him out for a bit." He stuck his hand out and Dillan shook it in the way he had been taught at the Alliance training centre.

"I'm not concerned that he will try that hard with me. But please let me know if he is pushing too much with you. Officer Sovereign was there today and she said she would be keeping an eye on him."

"He's a playboy, but I'm not worried about him being aggressive.” Bexley returned to his lounging position. Like a small animal laid out in the path of a sun. “I've heard rave reviews at the coffee machine. Don't judge me for giving in to him eventually," he added with a wink.

Dillan smiled. He felt at ease once again.