I am not your load to bear - Chapter 6 (Early Access) (Patreon)

Dillan

Staring down at the steaming plate, a flutter of nerves hit Dillan's stomach alongside the squeezes of hunger. There was a reason the Alliance didn't allow culinary crossing on-board the trial ships: there wasn't enough time to study long-term effects of another species’ food on the body. They knew that short-term consumption didn't cause major issues for those that had been part of the pre-trial experiments. Most experienced some form of mild stomach symptoms afterwards that would be expected when eating food while travelling. At least Dillan would have something to share with the humans, he supposed.

Everything in the universes was the same elements in different forms, right? And he didn't have any allergies that he knew of...

"Not impressed by my French, huh?"

Dillan blinked, returning to the table and to the yellow-haired man watching him.

"Sorry, I get lost in my head sometimes," Dillan said sheepishly. "What did you say?"

Tristan hefted his red-tinged stack with both hands like a pair of binoculars. "Just to enjoy your food." He tilted the ham and burger at Dillan before taking a huge bite of everything at once. Dillan watched him chew, gearing himself up to replicate the method.

Tristan swallowed. “Got cold feet?”

Dillan took his first bite and shrugged. He couldn't speak if he wanted to with his mouth so full, and he didn't know what to say anymore anyway. There were a flurry of textures and flavours stimulating his mouth, and by association, his brain. He couldn't stay focused at the best of times, but now he was focused on chewing and convincing his body it was safe to swallow. It was both wet and dry, crunchy and soft, meaty and layered with vegetation.

It was a meal of meat, vegetables and grains but combined into a cylindrical stack. Efficient, despite the mess of sauces that were already dripping off the tips of Dillan's fingers.

They ate in silence until Tristan finished his hamburger and Dillan still had half of his own left.

"These are French fries," Tristan announced, holding up a cluster of the yellow batons that took up the remainder of their plates. He stuffed them into his mouth with a happy moan.

"You said that word before; what does it mean?"

"Which one?"

Dillan attempted to recreate the sound, self-conscious in his pronunciation.

"French. If something is French it means it's from France," Tristan explained. He added, "It’s a place on Earth."

"These are from France?" Dillan nodded at his pile of French fries.

"Nah, they probably just invented them."

"And France is a town, like this?" Dillan gestured, ham and burger still in his hands, at the area around them.

Tristan laughed. "No, it's a country, much bigger."

The Earth's countries and continents were very confusing, and not just to Dillan. He had heard plenty of people questioning how there could be so many countries on such a small planet when by their translation, the Ailu't only had four on their home planet. There had to be some size discrepancy in the comparisons. If there were ten billion humans living on Earth, and they had almost two hundred countries, then they couldn't call the Ailu't home regions countries. It was a little offensive. Not that Dillan would ever say that aloud to a human or Ailu't. He wasn’t looking to start a competition; it just didn’t make much sense.

"You weren't kidding about the zoning out, huh?"

Dillan chewed his last mouthful of ham and burger, and looked up, hoping to convey his apology through all the sauces smeared around his mouth. Tristan offered his paper napkins across the small table. Dillan scrubbed his face and hands with the rough material.

“What’s happening in your head when you clock out like that? Elevator music?”

“What is that?”

“Elevator music?”

Dillan pinched a few French fries in his fingers the same way Tristan did. “Mm.” He popped them into his mouth and felt his tongue retract involuntarily. There was a seasoning coating them all over, far too much and too strong. Saliva filled his mouth in response and he was forced to sit and let the food soak into mush until he could swallow.

Tristan didn’t notice his predicament. “Kinda self-explanatory. It’s the boring music they play in elevators.”

“I don’t remember music in the elevator when we boarded The Cornucopia.”

“It’s more for casual settings like hotels.”

“Why do humans need constant noise?” Dillan mused. He blinked, realising that may have been a rude comment to make. “I didn’t mean- you aren’t all noisy-”

“I don’t care what you think of humans, Dillan.” Tristan rolled his eyes with his easy grin hanging from his mouth. “I might take offence if you don’t finish your fries, though.” He winked and snatched one off Dillan’s plate.

“You can have them, they make my mouth water… not in a good way.” More like the way it would right before he vomited.

“You don’t like the salt? They’re not real fries if they’re not extra salty.”

Dillan shook his head like he wanted to shake the white seasoning from the fries. Tristan shrugged and devoured the pile by the handful.

Once both plates were clear of everything but sauce drippings and salt, Tristan slumped back in his chair with a content sigh and patted his stomach.

"All finished, boys?" The way the woman said boys was heavy with insinuation. Dillan assumed it was directed at him.

Dillan smiled politely as she took the plates, and Tristan congratulated the establishment on the spiciness of his hamburger.

"Will there be anything else?"

"Just the bill, please."

The woman left again and Tristan dug out a handful of crumpled paper from his pocket. "You prefer dollars or euros?" he called after her.

The man in the kitchen yelled back the latter, and Tristan pointed his thumb up in confirmation.

"Don't we use our credits?" Dillan whispered, pulling his Alliance card from his pocket and placing it on the table.

"Small businesses won't accept Alliance credits," Tristan replied, pushing the card back to Dillan's hand. "To them it's the equivalent of an IOU, which is worth nothing this far out into space."

"IOU?"

"A bit of paper where you write down a promise to pay someone back. Worthless if you don't trust the person writing it, and the locals don't trust the Alliance to make good. All the paperwork to claim the money back is too confusing and the conversion rates haven't been made clear, so they don't know what to charge us to get the right amount back."

The woman brought out a small slip of paper that Tristan glanced at, then laid a few of his own papers on top and stood up to leave. Dillan jumped up and followed him, nodding his thanks to the woman who cooed at him again with fingers clutched over her chest. A firm hand pressed against his lower back lead him through the thin street.

"What did you mean about 'the conversion' of Alliance credits?"

"Hm? Oh, like, is it one credit for one dollar? One credit for one rupee? It's not clear."

Dillan peeked over his shoulder to show Tristan his confusion. "I don’t know what those are." After a pause, he mimicked, "Dollar and rupee."

"Currencies for different places."

Dillan frowned. "Why?"

“Why what?”

"If currency is used as a place-holder value for goods, what is the reason for multiple currencies?"

"Dillan, I’m a cargo loader, not a banker. How about you ask me something I can answer? Like how to lift heavy shit without injuring yourself."

"How do I lift heavy shit without injuring myself?" Dillan asked with a grin.

"Lift with your knees, not your back," Tristan replied, grinning wider.

Dillan slowed, looking down at his knees. "Knees…" he repeated, imagining what Tristan meant.

"Like this!" came a shout from behind him.

And Dillan was in the air. Widely splayed fingers had his waist hooked and his body hoisted. From his vantage point just above Tristan's head, he could see to the ends of the narrow street in both directions. Colourful banners and shades ran all the way down, connecting the main road in front of the port to a sand-coloured statue in the centre of the town. And then he pitched forwards, falling with a gasp and flapping hands. His head stopped half a foot from the dusty ground and Tristan's elbow tightened around his hip.

A cackle of hysterical laughter burst from him, and he slapped his hands over his mouth. As if he weren't drawing enough attention, all eyes in every direction seemed to be pointing at him. He kicked his feet a few times in weak protest of Tristan's man handling and his captor laughed loudly. Despite everything, Dillan felt safe in his hold. Safe enough to laugh again at his own predicament and playfully smack Tristan's arm that coiled around him.

Tristan flipped him back up the right way and slung him over his shoulder. The colourful and crowded street of eateries disappeared as he walked them away, Dillan bouncing on his shoulder and fighting off the surprised giggles that bubbled in his chest. The hard body propping him up was warm, and although the atmosphere of the tiny planet was already humid enough, Dillan felt drawn to squeeze in closer to Tristan's form.

"Let's go and see some boring human shit that you'll love," Tristan called back to him. Dillan laughed in response and brushed his hair back from his face to make sure he got to see everything.

Tristan was right, no matter how disinterested the humans around them appeared, Dillan was loving every stop on their made-up tour. He saw a convenience store with bright lights blasting at every product, a post office with an angry lady behind the desk yelling about expected delays to anyone who dared approach her, a pharmacy that was eerily similar to the convenience store but with rows of brightly-lit medicines, and finally, a bar. Tristan had a beer and Dillan had a juice and the whole interior was sticky and smelly with every piece of furniture having a furry texture. Dillan wished he had the courage to have taken pictures on his mobile communicator. He was scared to forget anything about the afternoon.

When they traipsed back up the long ramp, they were both moving with slower gaits. They had walked over the small port town until the sun had gone down. Final warnings to return to the ship would be ringing out on communicators soon.

They were separated for sanitising, temperature checks and inventory inspections. Dillan hadn't brought anything back with him as a souvenir; although, he wished he had.

On the other side, Dillan waited for a few minutes, but it seemed Tristan had already left after his own checks. A light burn of disappointment ran over him. Stupid, really, because why would Tristan want to sit together and talk about all the incredible things Dillan had seen today. To him, they weren't even slightly interesting. Which meant Dillan wasn't either.

He needed to talk about it, though. To tell someone the things he had seen.

Dillan found himself hovering in the doorway of the logistics office. Bexley looked up and grinned.

"How was it?"

Dillan managed not to sigh with relief and scurried inside, yanking the broken door shut behind him. "Amazing! I saw so many things. And I ate real human food!"

Bexley pushed his chair back from his desk and got comfortable with his knees up on the armrests. "What did you have?"

"Classic ham and burger," Dillan recited proudly.

"A hamburger? Damn, Tristan knows how to treat a man right!"

Dillan felt himself flush. "Don't tease me! I had fun..."

"I'm genuinely happy for you that you got to finally do some sightseeing." And he looked it. It made Dillan feel lucky... and filled with gratitude. He smiled to himself. "I just feel like Tristan has ulterior motives." The way Bexley said 'ulterior motives' was like one might say murder or stealing.

"I don't think he feels that way about me," Dillan argued slowly. "He didn't put any pressure on me sexually or make inappropriate gestures." Thinking back over the day, Tristan had only touched him to tease, not to entice. "I think... he only gives me attention to get to you." Admitting that part brought that burning disappointed feeling back, a flash of heat that made him uncomfortable.

Bexley shrugged awkwardly. Suddenly, he didn't seem capable of making direct eye contact with Dillan.

"Do you like him, Bexley?"

Bexley was instantly flustered. "Not... I don't want to go on dinner dates with him like you. He's just handsome and jacked and I can't pretend like the stories I've heard about him... you know. That they don't make me want to maybe... just once..."

"Oh!" Dillan laughed and brought a hand to his head to play with his braid and disperse some of the awkward tension he felt fizzing to his fingertips. "You want to have sex with him!"

Bexley's laugh was full of discomfort. "Yep."

"Well, I don't want to do that with him, so please feel free to do as you like."

Discomfort dissipated and Bexley smiled a little easier. "I've got your blessing?" Teasing him. But Dillan didn't mind.

Dillan nodded. "I had fun today, but I don't feel those ways towards Tristan." That was the truth. It was the romantic attraction that was burning him, but not sexual, there hadn't been enough time for that to develop. Technically, he was telling one truth and omitting another truth.

"Nice." Bexley tilted his chair back and kicked his feet up onto the desk as he began to scheme. "I'll give it a few days so that I don't look desperate. Then one steamy night and we'll be rid of that lurker while he sniffs out his next piece of ass."

The thought of Tristan moving on to his next target burned more.

He was tired after a long day of walking and taking in a brand-new culture, Dillan was certain he would feel better after some sleep. The human's day and night cycles were both too long; it had probably started to affect his mood after months of living to their rhythm. He hadn’t felt this many different emotions in one day since he was a child.