Star-Crossed - Chapter 5 (Patreon)

Blake didn’t remember falling asleep, but she nearly jumped out of bed when two knocks hit her door the next morning.  With her heart now racing, she looked around the small room and confirmed that last night wasn’t a bad dream.  She really was on the Inferno, living and sleeping amongst a group of criminals.  She was nearly killed last night, and considered killing a young man to save herself.  And no, this wouldn’t end anytime soon.

“Yo grunt!” someone called out with two more impatient knocks.  “Wake up!”

Standing up confirmed that last night was very real, as her side and shoulder were stiff and bruised, but she ignored the ache and hurried to the door.  Once it slid open, she discovered yet another stranger waiting for her. 

“They want you at the command deck,” the young girl said, giving Blake a slow, judgmental look.  After coming to an unspoken determination, she scoffed and walked away without bothering to explain who ‘they’ were or where the command deck was.

But Blake didn’t want to be late on her first morning, so she changed and left her room in a hurry.  She didn’t close the door, however, without first taking a long look at where she left her belongings.  Cinder had already revealed that she could get into the rooms at any time, which meant Blake needed to know if someone went through her things and what they might have taken.

After memorizing where everything was, she closed the door and followed her intuition towards the command deck.  On any other ship, she would ask for directions.  On this ship...she didn’t want to show any sign of weakness, even if that meant acting like she knew where she was going even though she didn’t.

If the Inferno’s layout was similar to other cruisers of this size, the command deck should be front and center.  Piecing together what she already knew combined with markers painted on the corners of each hall, she headed in the general direction and kept a careful eye on where she was going.

Unlike last night, the hallways were far from empty.  Now that a new day had begun, Blackguards of all genders, nationalities, shapes, and sizes roamed around.  Some moved with purpose suggesting they had somewhere to be.  Others meandered or stopped to chat with colleagues who also appeared to be off duty.  The only thing they all had in common was giving her a second or third glance when she passed by.

Doing her best to avoid eye contact, she still noted the curious, amused, or disdainful looks.  Some of them would be more welcoming of her presence than others, and she would like to know who belonged to which group sooner rather than later.  While her backstory was that of a loner, she needed to make ‘friends’ in order to fit in.  But first, she needed to find the command deck.

Taking a chance, she ducked into one of the lifts and discovered a well-organized numbering system on the wall.  After reading the entire list to familiarize herself, she pushed the button for the command station and felt the lift move several levels higher in the ship.  Once it stopped and the doors opened, she stepped into the hall and followed the flow of foot traffic towards what must be the bridge.  Soon finding herself standing in the doorway of the large, bustling room, she paused.  

The command deck was exactly what she would expect from a ship this size, but the atmosphere took her by surprise.  She had assumed that, since the Blackguards were criminals, their processes would be chaotic and disordered.  The bridge proved her wrong.

Not only was everything neat and clean, but it was running with order and crispness reminiscent of her Alliance training.  The crew members each had an assigned job, which they carried out at a variety of workstations along the periphery of the room.  Conversations, if there were any, were quiet and direct rather than loud or boisterous.  Those who needed to cross the room walked quickly but didn’t run, and everything hummed with the precision of an ISA cruiser. 

The view through the front window was nothing but space, giving no indication of where they were or where they were headed.  It was the center of the room that caught and held her attention - the large, circular table that alternately acted as a desk, hologram, and everything in between.  Around that table stood the three people she was quickly recognizing as the leaders of the Blackguards, and that suspicion was only further solidified when one of the crew members approached them with an aura of reticence and respect reserved for those in charge.

“Yes,” Cinder said after hearing the message, sending the young man scurrying back to his post to complete the task assigned to him.  It was at that moment that Cinder caught sight of Blake, and her expression lightened with what could only be described as dark amusement.

“Look who it is.”  When Cinder nodded in Blake’s direction, Adam and Yang turned towards her as well.  “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” Blake lied.  Leaving the doorway behind, she walked onto the command deck with no sign of favoring her bruised side or rubbing her sleep-deprived eyes.  If Cinder wanted to see weakness, she would have to look elsewhere.

“Let’s see if you feel the same tonight.” 

“Save it,” Yang cut in with a glare sent Cinder’s way and a scowl reserved for Blake.  “We need you to read this,” she added while shoving a piece of paper across the table.  “So read it.” 

The on-demand translations were already getting old, but were also the only reason Adam let Blake onto the ship.  So, rather than sigh at the task, she picked up the page and skimmed through it.

“All of it?” 

“Is that a problem?” 

The neutral stare Yang leveled Blake with was intimidating, but she managed a scoff and shake of her head.

“No, but it’s a list of random words.  Or random names.”

The moment Adam and Yang exchanged a glance, Blake realized the answer meant far more to them than to her. 

“Read the names,” Cinder ordered right before jabbing Blake’s bruised side.  

Clenching her jaw at the flash of pain, Blake somehow held her tongue and exhaled rather than swear out loud.  She would never believe that Cinder hadn’t done that on purpose, but the pain and annoyance didn’t prevent her mind from latching onto something more important - Cinder just gave away that the page held a list of names.  Which meant...they were searching for someone?

When Adam’s permanent scowl deepened, Blake realized she was two seconds away from being reprimanded or worse.  With Cinder standing nearby to deliver the ‘or worse,’ she began deciphering the names one-by-one.  The document was so old that some of the runes had rubbed off or become nearly illegible, but she pieced together or guessed the ones she couldn’t read.

“Chegwin,” she read aloud before moving to the next name.  “Herle, Klemmow, Myghal...”  

Looking up to check her progress, she found red eyes staring impassively back at her.  Apparently, they were interested in something she hadn’t stumbled across yet.

“Penketh, Riol, Rudheck, Spargo, Treherne, and...Ungust.”

Reaching the end of the list, she lowered the paper to the table and watched Adam and Yang exchange another look.  Cinder also seemed to mull something over, but Blake didn’t dare ask what.  She knew better than to ask questions right now; it was way too early for that.

“Write them down.”  

When Yang tossed a pen across the table, Blake picked it up and looked around.

“Where?” she asked, only for Cinder to scoff.

“Where do you think?”  

Cinder shoved the page back to Blake, who frowned down at it.

“But this is hundreds of years old…”

“Who cares?”  

Adam’s low, venomous drawl made the hairs on the back of Blake’s neck stand on end, as if they sensed impending danger.

“Right,” she mumbled while grabbing the ancient document and writing each name beside the corresponding runes.  Desecrating something so old made her feel horrible, but what other choice did she have?  The only thing she could do was silently apologize to the author while doing as told.

“Write down all the languages you know, too.”  When Blake looked up at Yang, she merely nodded towards the page and added a quick, “So we know.”

Blake could complete the end of that sentence without help - so they knew what they could use her for.  Writing this second list at the bottom of the page almost made her wish that her parents hadn’t been so determined to highlight her Faunus heritage.  As if her ears weren’t enough, her linguistic skills were over the top.  She’d found it useful until this moment, when her ability transferred into the hands of evil.  But her mission...

“Here you go.”  

Setting the pen on top of the paper, she slid both across the table to Yang, but it was Adam who snatched the page and gave it a quick once-over.  Satisfied, or at least not upset, by what he found, he nodded and held it out to one of the crew members standing by.  The man stepped forward at the silent summon and accepted the page.

“You know what to do,” Adam directed in a low tone.  “Every one of them.  I want answers in two hours.”

When the man nodded and hurried to the other side of the room, Adam turned around and moved closer to Yang.  With growing curiosity, Blake watched him set his hand on Yang’s metal shoulder before slowly trailing his fingers down her arm.  The way he looked at her made Blake’s skin crawl, but Yang made no motion to move away.

“I might have news for you,” he said, finally removing his hand.  “Find me later.”  

With no further explanation, he left the bridge behind.  The mood of the room lightened upon his exit, but Yang and Cinder’s presence prevented the crew from relaxing too much.  Now that Adam was gone, however, Cinder crossed her arms and scoffed.

“Jump right back on his dick, why don’t you.”

“I’d rather eat a live grenade,” Yang shot back, but Cinder just rolled her eyes.  Unfortunately, her gaze landed on Blake then, and a smile appeared.

“Maybe I should show you around.”  

The moment Cinder moved towards Blake, Yang walked around the table and stepped between them.

“You’ve done enough.  Go check the status on our new cargo.”

For a second, Cinder looked like she wanted to argue.  Since Yang outranked her, however, she scowled and stalked out of the room instead.  After watching her go, Yang glanced at Blake out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m guessing you haven’t eaten yet.”

“Waiting for someone to tell me to.”  

Blake regretted the sarcastic response the moment Yang sighed.  It was either a sigh of annoyance or...it was most likely a sigh of annoyance.  But when Blake had been nothing but bossed around so far, what else should she say?  Waiting for someone to tell her a good time to eat seemed like a probable situation.

“You probably don’t even know where the cafeteria is.”

“I’m sure I can find it,” she replied, but Yang sighed again and shook her head.

“No, it’s fine - I haven’t eaten either.  We’ll swing by and grab something, then I’ll show you some of the ship - sound good?”

That sounded like the best offer Blake had received since stepping aboard, so no way was she declining.

“That sounds good,” she answered, and Yang nodded before motioning out of the room.

“You found the command deck alright,” she commented as they left the bridge behind.  

“Front and center of every ship.”

“Intuitive.”

The response sounded sarcastic, possibly a dig at her smart-ass comment from last night, but Blake kept her mouth shut and followed Yang to the lifts.  

“Things are pretty well-marked,” Yang said, waving towards the directory on the wall.  “There are basically five different sections - the bridge, living areas, cargo, engineering, and the hangers.”  

While Yang spoke, she pushed the button for one of the lower levels and sent the lift dropping into the ship.

“You don’t have any reason to be in engineering,” she added, sounding almost bored by the explanation.  “And you saw cargo on the way in.  The hangers are right off of cargo - can’t miss them.  You’ll spend most of your time here in the living quarters.”

When the lift doors opened, Yang walked out and motioned towards the halls Blake meandered through that morning.  

“Cafeteria’s down here.”  

After pointing at a marker on the wall, Yang led them in that direction.  Two long hallways later, they walked into a room that Blake immediately recognized.

“Look familiar?”

Noticing the sidelong glance Yang sent her, Blake scanned the room and gave a simple nod rather than a full response.  Now that the tables and chairs were back in place, the room looked more like a traditional recreation area than a fighting arena.  Blackguards sat at various tables playing cards or other games to pass the time, while others lounged near the video screen in the corner.

“Most people hang out here when they’re not on shifts,” Yang explained while leading Blake towards a door at the far end of the room.  Through that doorway was yet another large room, this one filled with more tables and crew members eating their meals.  

Her stomach growled at the smell of food, and she couldn’t remember the last time she ate.  Having been so nervous about finding and joining the Blackguards, she might have skipped one or several meals.

“Kitchen staff comes up with a rotating menu.”  Leading them over to the line for food, Yang pointed to a menu written on the wall.  “Mostly depends on what planet we were at last.  If you don’t like what’s on the menu, you better suck up to the kitchen staff or bribe them to make you something else.”

“That’s alright.  I’m not a picky eater.”

“Wouldn’t care if you were.”  

While Blake scoffed at the casual dismissal, Yang motioned to the Etovian behind the counter that she needed two of whatever was for breakfast.  Once he set two containers on the counter, she grabbed both and handed one to Blake.

Noticing the curious look she received from the man, Blake accepted breakfast with a soft “thank you” before following Yang away from the kitchen.  It hadn’t occurred to her until right then, but it might be unusual for someone like Yang to show around the lowest-ranking member of the crew.  Cinder had also offered, but Blake had legitimate reasons to believe that would have ended in more injuries for her.

Diving deeper into the observation, she gave Yang a more thoughtful look.  Intimidation must be Yang’s middle name - from her arm, to her eyes, to her posture.  And her status as one of the Blackguard’s leading members meant she must have been party to some serious crimes.  

Maybe she was bored, and that’s why she offered to show Blake around.  Or maybe this was some sort of test.

“Everyone has an assigned job,” Yang carried on after taking a bite of breakfast, which was pretty good, in Blake’s opinion.  “Cooks, cleaners, squad, maintenance, engineers - everyone has a primary task and sometimes a secondary, depending on how often they’re needed.”

“What about me?”

“When you’re not translating, find someone to help with.  The cooks, the cleaners, I don’t care - just pitch in however you can.” 

Nodding and taking another bite to eat, Blake was grateful for what sounded like a fair amount of flexibility.  Unless they needed her to translate an entire library...in which case she would ask Alliance to remove her from this mission as soon as possible.

“Sick bay,” Yang pointed out as they passed a closed door with a red cross on it.  “Guessing you’ll be here often.”

“Why?  Will I be visiting you?”

When Yang stopped walking, Blake silently cursed her propensity to respond with sarcasm whenever she felt insulted.  Her commanding officers chewed her out about it, and she always gave them a ‘yes sir’ or ‘yes ma’am’ before doing it again.  A verbal lashing was expected and appropriate, which was why she was surprised when Yang only scoffed.

“You’ve been here eight hours and already gotten the shit kicked out of you - I expect you here before long.”

“We’ll agree to disagree,” Blake replied, only to again be surprised when Yang shook her head and resumed walking.

“You love pushing your luck, don’t you…”

Blake couldn’t say she loved it, but she was known for it.  When she felt like something was wrong or that her way was better, she pushed the boundaries as far as possible.  That was part of the reason she landed this mission, so she couldn’t say it never got her anywhere.

“Just do me a favor and stay away from Cinder,” Yang added.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her hate someone so fast.  You must’ve found a way to really piss her off.”

“A natural talent,” Blake replied with a roll of her eyes.  

“I’m almost jealous,” Yang said, a hint of something close to amusement in her tone.  “I had to earn her hatred, but you just walk in and have it.”  Pausing for a second, she gave Blake a more thoughtful look.  “Wonder why that is…”

With that red gaze trained upon her, Blake suddenly had a good idea of why Cinder hated her, and why everyone on this ship would hate her.  Cinder couldn’t possibly know who Blake was - if she did, Blake would be dead already - but maybe she sensed it somehow…

Whatever it was, Blake hoped that no one figured it out.

“My devastatingly good looks?” she joked, using a line right out of Sun’s repertoire.  Surprisingly, it worked; Yang scoffed and let the subject go.

“Wouldn’t be surprised,” she even muttered.  “She’s a petty bitch.”

The response solidified what Blake suspected - the two commanders hated each other.  Maybe their mutual dislike could be used to her advantage.  If she aligned against Cinder, maybe Yang would view her more favorably.

“You can say that again,” she agreed, and noted Yang’s satisfied nod.  That, to her, felt like progress.  If nothing else, it was an interaction with someone on this ship that didn’t result in her being threatened.

“Guess I should show you the supplies.”  

Stopping by another door, Yang put her hand on the panel and waited for it to open.  Once it did, she motioned Blake after her, but Blake nearly didn’t follow.  The smell alone made her want to stay in the hall, but she had no legitimate reason to do so.  Instead, she took a deep breath, slowed her breathing, and walked into a room filled with more drugs than she’d ever seen in one place.

“The panel logs entry and exit,” Yang explained with the same casual demeanor she’d used to explain the lunch menu.  “Only rule is that it’s for off duty only.  If we catch you lit up on duty, you’ll be dead or wishing you were dead - got it?”

While Yang waited for a response, Blake gave the room one last glance and nodded.  The Inferno had everything an addict could dream of and more.  If this was what the crew had access to, how much was stored to be sold or traded for weapons?

“You don’t look excited.”

“What?”

“Most people treat this place like a candy store,” Yang elaborated with a dismissive wave before walking out of the room.  Blake didn’t hesitate to follow.  “You’re not into it?”

Without knowing what response Yang wanted, that was a dangerous question for Blake to answer.  What would impress Yang more, or dampen any lingering suspicions?  What helped Blake fit in, and what won her favor in the eyes of one of her new leaders?  

“Depends on my mood,” she replied as cagily as possible.  “Not recently though.  Slows me down.”

If that was the right answer, she had no way of knowing; Yang just shrugged and walked away.

“Suit yourself,” she said before a quick, “Oh, speaking of that.”  Suddenly moving with more purpose, she led them into the next hallway and to another closed door.  “You need a suit.”

Once the door opened, Blake peered into the room and found rows upon rows of armored suits hanging on racks.  

“You stick out like a sore thumb,” Yang added, and Blake couldn’t agree more.  Most of the crew wore their armor wherever they went, which made her one of the few wearing civilian clothes on board.  If she wanted to fit in, she needed to lose her status as an outsider by any means necessary...even if that meant donning the infamous jet-black armor.

“These are extras,” Yang explained while Blake lightly touched the nearest uniform.  “Find one that fits and wear it.  Just keep in mind that it won’t make you invincible - take a knee to the ribs, they’ll still break.”

“Ok, thank you.”  

The gratitude slipped out, as Blake felt that she had a great deal to thank Yang for between yesterday and today.  From Yang’s scowl, however, she didn’t feel the same.  

“What’re you thanking me for?” she asked, and Blake quickly switched tactics.  

“For the opportunity.”  

When Blake motioned towards the room filled with armor, Yang scoffed and shook her head.  

“You have no idea what you got yourself into.”  

Before Blake could ask what that meant, Yang glanced at her watch and clenched her jaw.  

“And that’s all I’ve got time for, grunt.  Explore more at your own risk.”  

Without another word, she left Blake standing alone amidst the Blackguard uniforms.  Her footsteps faded down the hall as she went to address more important responsibilities, but Blake frowned at the abrupt departure.

Left to her own devices, she looked around the room and decided to pick out a suit as Yang suggested.  It took only a few seconds of searching to discover that the room was just as organized as the rest of the ship.  The pants were hung by size, and the corresponding tops were neatly-folded and resting just underneath.

After finding a set that looked around her size, she gave them a long look before slipping them over her clothes.  Hardened plates covered the front of her shins, knees, thighs, chest, and back, but the rest of the uniform was made of a flexible material that offered plenty of mobility.  

Running her hands down the sides, she found plenty of concealed pockets perfect for hiding knives or other weapons.  Whereas Yang’s suit had been modified to accommodate her prosthetic arm, the stock version had two full sleeves with thicker material along the forearms and elbows, offering added protection without being as heavy or restrictive as the armor plating.  

Finding a small button near her left wrist, Blake pushed it and felt the two halves fuse together and mold to her shape.  Raising her arms in front of her, she stared at the deep black armor that would immediately identify her as one of them.  A member of the Blackguard.  A criminal.

Dropping her hands to her sides and shaking her head, she reminded herself that this was all part of her mission.  She had to become one of them.  With this armor, she was one step closer to succeeding in that goal.

With no escort and no immediate responsibility, she decided that now was a good time to explore on her own.  Leaving the room of armor behind, she picked a random direction and headed off in search of anything interesting.  Now that the day was underway, most of the crew were too preoccupied with their tasks to give her much more than a glance or short glare when she passed them by.

Compared to this morning, however, she was more at ease walking through the halls by herself.  As Yang put it, she no longer stuck out ‘like a sore thumb.’  She blended in.  She didn’t belong yet, but her outfit made her less of an outsider.

Reaching the end of another hallway, she read the markings on the corner and spotted something that caught her interest.  After setting off in that direction, it wasn’t long before she reached a door with a small glass window in it.  A quick glance confirmed her destination, and she was pleasantly surprised when she set her hand on the palm scanner and it flashed green.

Walking into the armory, which was at least five times as big as the one on ISA’s base, she looked around in disbelief.

“Damn,” she summarized out loud, catching the attention of the only other person in the room - a young boy with pale blue skin, no hair to speak of, and grease smudges all over his arms and hands.

“Please don’t touch anything.  I just got it back in order.” 

Raising her hands, she made sure not to touch anything while moving further into the room.  With every step she took, however, her surprise grew.  The Inferno’s armory easily surpassed the best weapon stores of the Alliance.  Any weapon she could imagine hung on the wall or sat in racks, each freshly cleaned and ready for duty.  There were even some she’d never seen before, large and small contraptions whose purposes weren’t clear from appearance alone. 

“These aren’t the ones we move, right?” she asked, taking a closer look at a drawer filled with knives she could drool over.

“Naw.  Those stay in cargo.” 

Filing that information away, she turned towards the long table in the center of the room currently covered in weapons, spare parts, and grease.  

“Are you the only one taking care of them?”

“Yup!  Can’t do much else, so they make me polish the weapons.”  

If his situation saddened him at all, his smile made it impossible to tell.  That, and his blown-out pupils were either hereditary or...drug related.

“Want help?” she offered regardless of his current mental state.  Compared to how the rest of the crew had reacted to her so far, he seemed non-threatening and, above all else, accepting of her presence.  That alone was worth her time cleaning phasers.

“You’re the one they’re talking about?” he asked instead, another smile just barely held at bay.  “The grunt?” 

“That would be me.  But I can help.” 

Part of every Alliance officer’s training was an extensive course on maintaining their weapons.  The last thing Command wanted was to replace broken phasers all the time, so they harped on proper maintenance techniques.  But just because she knew she was capable didn’t mean this young weaponsmith did. 

After considering her for several long seconds, he slid a phaser across the table.  

“Take that apart.”

Finally, a test she didn’t mind passing.  

Setting down the remainder of her breakfast, she grabbed the weapon and did as instructed.  It practically fell apart in her hands and, as she laid out the components on the table, he laughed - a cheerful, delighted sound that confirmed his young age.

“It took me forever to learn how to do that.”  Unashamed of the admission, he motioned towards a burn mark on the wall.  “That one almost got me.  Pretty sure they stuck me in here to see if I’d hurt myself.”

That didn’t sound like a laughing matter, but Blake still smiled at his apparent happiness.  Having passed his test, however, she pointed towards a stack of rifles in a bin by the door. 

“Do those need tuning?”  

“Yeah, wanna grab one?”

Needing no further encouragement, she picked up one of the weapons, set it on the table across from him, and began dismantling it so it could be cleaned.  

“I’m Ret, by the way.”

When he set a container of cleaning oil in front of her, she smiled.

“Blake,” she replied, and he chuckled - either at her name or the introduction - before going back to work.  

Taking the initiative to do the same, she focused on the weapon and quickly discovered that the methodical work was a relief.  For these few minutes, her brain rested and her hands did the work.  If she zoned out, it almost felt like she was back at base with Sun, the two of them racing to see who could clean their weapons the fastest.

The happy mirage disappeared when Cinder walked into the room.

“What’re you doing here?” she snapped as soon as she saw Blake.  When Blake raised her grease-covered hands - all the answer that was needed - Cinder scowled and shoved her weapon into Blake’s chest.  “If I find a speck of dirt on it, it’s your ass to pay.”

When Cinder stalked out of the room, Blake rolled her eyes and set the weapon on the table to be worked on next.

“We can probably figure out how to make that blow the next time she uses it.”  

Surprised by the comment, Blake looked across the table while Ret nodded towards where Cinder just stood.

“Then we’ll have two commanders missing arms,” he added and, once she laughed, grinned and went back to work.

She quickly did the same but decided he was alright.  Still a Blackguard.  Still a criminal.  But at least one person on this ship hadn’t immediately threatened to kill her.  That seemed like a step in the right direction.