Chapter Text
There was a time when Ava used to like this song. That was the reason why she had thought it would be a good idea to set it as her alarm. Now, she hated that song. It blared in every room of her small ship, much louder than it had any reason to be. Her head was pounding with the base. She opened her eyes a crack and found far too much light on the other side. She forced them shut once more.
“Michael,” she mumbled, but it sounded like a shout to her. “Michael, turn it off.”
“I'm sorry, Ava, I'm afraid I can't do that,” the ship's AI answered. “You told me to keep playing your alarm until you were awake, and to wake you before ten.”
“What time is it?” she asked, her dried tongue struggling with every word.
“9:59.”
She let out a sound, half a sigh of resignation and half a groan of pain, and sat up, her eyes still partially closed.
“Alright, I'm awake. I'm awake. You can turn that shit off.”
Finally, blessedly, the music came to a stop. Ava rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She had slept on the leather booth in the tiny space she used as a living room, both legs and one arm hanging off the side. Her shoulder was killing her, but the pain was nothing compared to her massive headache. As she sat, she realized her belt had been undone, but not much else. Had she brought anyone home the night before? Were they still here?
“What happened last time?” she asked as she scooted out of the booth, stretching her right shoulder.
“You brought a woman back with you then promptly fell asleep in the living room,” Michael explained. “She left soon after.”
Ava groaned.
“Did she steal anything?”
“She did not.”
Well, at least that was something less to worry about. Ava took off her leather jacket – she needed to stop sleeping in that jacket, it made her sweat what little water she had left in her body – and threw it on top of the pile of stuff already on the small, circular table.
“I need a shower. And breakfast.”
“I suggest a cream cheese bagel this morning.”
“Again?”
“That is the only thing you have in your kitchen. You forgot to go grocery shopping again yesterday.”
Ava wished she could blame the AI for not reminding her sooner, but she knew Michael had reminded her every morning before she left the ship for at least three days now. She could only blame herself on this one.
She took a too long, too warm shower, letting the previous night run down the drain. She should drink less, she knew, but it was difficult when the best place to find work was a bar. She could order non-alcoholic beverages, sure, but who would want to hire a smuggler who couldn't hold their liquor? She had a reputation to maintain.
She came out feeling better and even more dehydrated than before. Once dressed in clean clothes – a rare commodity on this ship, because she had forgotten to do the laundry again – she went into the kitchen to get the biggest glass of water she could find, and spread whatever cream cheese she had left on half a bagel. She would kill for some takeout, but until she'd scored another job, she had to be careful with her money, and she was slowly accumulating a tab at the bar that would need taken care of.
She chewed her bagel without thinking about it, her mind a thousand years away. She wasn't disappointed that the woman had gone last night before anything could have happened. She was somewhat glad. She knew what her drunk self had been trying to do. She was trying to forget Helen.
Helen wasn't her real name, Ava knew. She hadn't given her real name either. When the tall, beautiful young woman had introduced herself at the bar, and given the name Helen, Ava had decided to play along, and had introduced herself as Ariadne. Helen had seemed distracted at first, glancing about the bar, but as the night progressed, they had gotten along well. Ava had convinced her to go back to her ship. Helen had seemed nervous, but she had come along anyway. One thing had led to another, and they had slept together. When Ava had woken up in the morning, Helen had been gone.
It had been a while ago, on another planet, yet still Helen had been haunting her. Her cute English accent. Her eyes, at first so hard and careful which had melted, revealing nervousness and tenderness beneath. The way her hair had fallen out of its bun when Ava had pulled on her elastic band. Her arms, scared, signs of the danger she was confronted to regularly. Her callous hands keeping Ava down. She shivered as she thought about their night together again. Helen may not have been her real name, but it suited her, because Ava would absolutely launch a ten-year-long war and thousands of ships to find her again.
Breakfast completed with a minimum amount of day-dreaming, Ava put on her leather jacket and shoes once more.
“I won't be back late,” she decided. “I will buy groceries on the way back if I don't find work.”
Michael said nothing, and she knew the AI was skeptical, if a computer could be skeptical.
The Midnight Sky was a few blocks away from the astroport where she had parked. It had been built in a warehouse cut in half. The other half was a coffee shop. Ava wished illegal dealings could be made in a coffee shop rather than a bar, but she didn't have much of a choice. After looking longingly at the pink front of the coffee shop, she stepped into the neon and black bar.
The counter made a box in the middle of the room. Booths had been set up along the walls, some more hidden than others. Near the counter were circular tables. The stage was empty so early in the day, but music was playing still, something calm to wake the few patrons who had fallen asleep there the night before. Ava leaned over the counter, looking for one of the barmen. They were eating their breakfast, the logo of the next-door coffee shop stamped on every bag and cup.
“Hey, Hans, do you guys have like, something that looks like alcohol but isn't?”
Hans frowned.
“Yeah,” he said. “It's called a virgin cocktail. Have you... You've been here everyday for almost a week, haven't you tried one yet?”
Ava bit her lower lip, averting her eyes and trying to appear less foolish than she felt.
“Yeah, of course, I've tried one of those before...”
Hans sighed.
“Just take your spot. I'll bring you something over in a minute.”
“Thanks.”
The darker Rudius Station became, the more people stumbled into the Midnight Sky. Because of some complicated sun calculations that Ava didn't care to understand, both suns were set before four p.m. It was still the middle of the afternoon, but already the bar was full of patrons. Ava watched from her booth, sipping on her third virgin cocktail, as the drug dealers and more dangerous-looking smugglers were approached for work, while she remained in her booth, waiting for someone, anyone to come and speak with her. So what if she wasn't tall or had arms like sequoia trees? She was just as capable.
She had had plenty of time to think about Helen again. She was itching to go back to Ilium and look for her. But she needed the money. She needed work. Fuel was expensive, and she couldn't afford to travel for nothing. Maybe she should just change bar. She'd been told the Midnight Sky was the best place to do business, but her intel must have been wrong.
She was pulled out of her thoughts when a woman clad in dark leather approached her.
“This seat taken?” she asked.
“Depends. Who are you looking for?”
“A pilot.”
Ava's smiled broaden, and she motioned for the empty booth across from her. The woman sat down, brushing her trench-coat aside, revealing the glimpse of two shotguns hidden beneath.
“Do you transport humans?”
Ava frowned.
“If they're not in chains, sure.”
“We need an extraction from Rudius.”
“How many are we talking? You and who else?”
“Actually not me. Me and my friend have our own extraction plan. My other friends are the ones in need.”
Ava looked over her shoulder. She spotted two women seating at one of the round tables, with three glasses in front of them. One was also glad in leather, tall and proud, her long hair kept in a braid. The other wasn't dressed for combat, but rather wearing a cardigan, sipping her drink from a straw which she was holding with both hands. Her eyes kept glancing around the room nervously, a rookie mistake.
“These two?” Ava asked.
“Plus two outside,” the woman confirmed.
Ava took another sip of her drink as she thought the proposition over.
“Look, this job seems really dangerous. Whoever's after you should clearly not be messed with. It's gonna coast you a lot.”
“I was afraid you'd say that. We are a bit strapped for cash right now, but...”
She pulled something from her pocket, placing it on the table. Her hand moved away so that only Ava could see the insignia, the cross in a circle. Just as quickly as she had shown it to Ava, she pocketed it again.
“Let's just say the OCS would owe you one.”
Ava almost couldn't believe it. The OCS was reputed in the underworld. A secret group of ass-kicking nuns with their own secret agenda. No matter how much money one had, they were not for hire. But if they owed Ava, they could be at her service. She needed money, but this was too good to pass.
“Bring your friends to astroport 7 in one hour. Look for the Archangel.”
The OCS sister held out her hand, and Ava shook it, sealing their deal.
“See you then.”
She walked away, returning to her table to pick up her sisters. The tall one sent another glance toward Ava. Then, the three of them left the bar. Ava smiled, finishing her glass. She thought about getting a real drink to celebrate. Then, she remembered the state her ship was in, and that four humans would be sharing it with her for a couple of hours, and she should probably clean it.
An hour later, the ship looked far more presentable. She had stuffed all of dirty laundry in her bedroom and locked the door, placed all of her books back on the shelf above the living room booth and thrown all the dried cutlery in the kitchen drawer where they belong. If she'd had any spared time, she would have checked that her ship was ready to fly, but she was always confident that her ship was ready to fly.
Two heavy rasps echoed against the ramp and Ava took in a deep breath. She was nervous about this job for some reason. She figured it had everything to do with whoever the OCS members were running away from. Vaguely, as she opened the door to the airlock, she wondered whether she was about to be banned from yet another colony. She opened the ramp and stepped down, shoulders squared and a bright smile on her face.
“Captain Ava Silva at your service...”
Her voice died down as she spotted one of the sisters standing at the bottom of the ramp. Her hair was hidden beneath a cowl and she was wearing black leather body armor like the others, but that face, those eyes, she would recognize them anywhere.
“Helen?”
Recognition, followed by deep mortification, passed over Helen's features, and she looked away.
“You must have me confused with someone else,” she was quick to reply.
“Yeah, her name's Beatrice,” the smaller nun of the group added.
Outwardly, Ava was quick to shake herself out of her daze. Within, her heart seemed to have exploded in her chest. It couldn't be, but it made so much sense. The scars on her body, the secrecy, the hesitation. She had been fantasizing about a nun this entire time.
The tall, proud one from the bar glanced at Beatrice, then Ava, and said:
“Well, anyway, we had a bit of trouble finding you. You said to look for the Archangel but your ship is called the Archangle...”
Ava's eyes grew wide and she jumped off the ramp to the front of her ship, where the paint had been scratched off again, and someone had renamed her ship with a sharpy. She groaned.
“Not again!”
It was fine when she did it in a drunken fit, but anyone else would suffer her rage. Not that she had the time to find them. But she would remember. She brushed the ink off as best as she could, but it was resistant. After a few frantic rubs she gave up and turned to the OCS members who had been staring at her, waiting to board.
“Never mind. It's fine.”
She brushed past them, trying not to look at Beatrice as she passed.
“Come on in.”
They followed her up the ramp and through the airlock into the living room. Once all four were inside, she closed the ramp and shut the airlock.
“Welcome to the Archangel. If you need anything, feel free to ask me or Michael.”
“Welcome to the Archangel,” Michael repeated from above, spooking the woman in the cardigan.
When she realized it was only a computer, she sighed with relief and placed a hand on her chest to calm her heart.
“We'll be leaving shortly. I just need to know where we're going.”
The taller woman seemed about to speak, but Beatrice cut her off.
“I will give you the coordinates.”
Ava nodded. They walked one behind the other into the cockpit. It was minuscule, filled with panels and buttons and levers, with just enough space for two seats, in front of a dirty window. Ava jumped into her chair and it flipped around until she was facing the window and the driving sticks. She heard the door shutting behind Beatrice. She decided not to look at her, because if she did, she would be reminded of the last time she had seen her, so carefree and open. Right now, Beatrice was locked like a prison door, all thick bars and high walls.
Ava turned the engine on, then grabbed the headphones on the ceiling. She pressed one against her ear, placing the microphone near her mouth.
“Control, this is the Archangel, code number...”
She covered the microphone and leaned around the middle panel.
“What code did I give them again?” she wondered out loud.
The label was pilling off the identity card. She straightened it with her thumb, then uncovered the microphone.
“Code number SB-0207-20 ready for take off.”
“Destination?”
“Eiffel Station.”
“Describe cargo and passengers.”
“No cargo, and it's just me and my co-pilot,” Ava replied, her eyes glancing without her control toward Beatrice, who was still standing beside her seat, arms crossed, waiting for an opportunity to talk.
“Archangel you are clear for take off,” the voice in the headphone answered.
Ava attached the headphones to the ceiling again, then guided her ship off the platform and into the sky, higher and higher above the neon-lit buildings. As soon as she reached a certain height, the Archangel began to shake.
“Michael, can you warn our passengers that it's going to be a bit bumpy?”
“The captain would like you ask you to remain seated until we have left the planet's atmosphere.”
Ava glanced between Beatrice and the seat beside her, but Beatrice didn't move, only grabbed onto the top of the seat to keep herself upright. The Archangel continued to shake. Anyone else would have been worried that the ship would shatter into a dozen pieces and explode upon meeting the cold emptiness of space, but Ava knew her ship by heart. This wasn't even the hardest it had ever shaken.
When the shaking finally stopped, Ava set it the autopilot and let go of the stick.
“We'll go toward Eiffel Station to fool them, then we'll drop out and head to your destination. Which is?”
She turned to Beatrice, looking up at her. The nun seemed stunned, as if she hadn't expected to be spoken to. She cleared her throat.
“Er... Nueva Madrid. We're expected at the third astroport.”
“Got it.”
Ava pretended to be deep in calculation of a new path to take, when really she would leave all the specifics to Michael. She just didn't want to leave her seat until Beatrice had gone. When she didn't look at her again, Beatrice called her to gain her attention.
“Captain Silva?”
A long shiver ran down Ava's back. No one had ever called her that. Only she called herself captain, and introduced herself as such, but very few respected the title. But the way Beatrice had said it was doing things to her. Before she turned to look at her, Ava took a deep breath to cool her eagerness.
“Do you need anything else?”
“I would appreciate if you kept our... acquaintance to yourself.”
Ava's confident smile faltered a bit.
“Yeah, sure. No problem.”
She busied herself pushing buttons and flicking levers, switching this and that, turning on the radar but not looking at it.
“Is it because you broke your vow of chastity? I mean I'm not judging...”
Beatrice's cheeks flushed bright red.
“I took a vow of celibacy, not chastity. There's a big difference.”
Ava could only shrug.
“I won't say a thing, sure.”
Beatrice took a deep breath, as if to calm her blush. Ava expected her to leave the cockpit, finally, but she lingered. Before Ava could ask her if there was anything else she needed, a light flashed on the ceiling. She pulled the headphones down again.
“Hello?”
“Archangel, this is the ISC. Prepare for a routine control before you leave Rudius's airspace.”
Ava sighed. Now that was just the cherry on top.
“We'll be waiting.”
She hung up then pushed herself out of the seat.
“Michael, yellow alert.”
She turned to Beatrice and took off her leather jacket.
“How quick can you change?”
Beatrice had taken her body armor off and thrown it in the shower. Taking her cowl off, she'd hidden it beneath Ava's leather jacket. The jacket was just a bit too small for her, but it accentuated her shoulders, and her long neck, and the sight of Beatrice wearing her clothes did something to Ava that she would rather not think about.
The ship from the Inter-Spacial Customs hitched above the Archangel, and two officers climbed through the trap and into the airlock. Ava took a deep breath, standing beside Beatrice in the now empty living room, and whispered:
“Follow my lead.”
She opened the airlock and let the two officers inside.
“Welcome to the Archangel. What can we do for you today, officers?”
The two men wore brown and dark green uniforms, their badges the only spot of color on their breast pockets. An emergency gas mask was attached to their right shoulder, not that it would be of much use if she had decided to flush them out into space. Not that she would. She had enough trouble in other parts of the Union, she didn't need to be banned from this side also.
“Who's the captain?” one of the officers asked, his eyes passing from Ava to Beatrice.
“It's me. I'm the captain.”
“This is just a standard customs check. You just left Rudius 7, right?”
“Yep.”
“This place is crawling with smugglers, did you know?”
While one officer interrogated them, the other began his search around the ship, going into the cockpit then moving to the living room. Beatrice watched him move about the ship with contained anxiety.
“Nope, had no idea. We're delivery gals, we just go where we're asked.”
“I don't see any merchandise.”
Ava frowned.
“That's because we went to Rudius to deliver our stuff. Did I not make that clear?”
She looked at Beatrice, who was finally stopped observing the other officer.
“No, you didn't,” she replied.
“What did you deliver?”
“Pastries. Actually, I think we have a box left, if you want some. Hold on.”
Ava went into the kitchen and pulled a pink box out of one of the cupboards. She returned to the first officer, opening the box for him. He blushed and looked away.
“Erotic pastries is all the rage these days, apparently.”
The officer cleared his throat, his gaze fixed on the ground.
“I'm good, thank you.”
The other returned and shook his head. He, too, caught a glimpse at the content of the box and averted his gaze swiftly.
“Thank you for complying with our control.”
They hurried through the airlock and back up the ladder to their ship.
“Bye!” Ava shouted after them, then shut the airlock.
She laughed and threw the box on the living room table. Beside her, Beatrice finally saw the dick-shaped pastries inside, and flushed.
“It works every time,” Ava said, then she returned into the cockpit to get the ship in motion again.
Once the ship was speeding toward Nueva Madrid, Ava returned into the living room. Beatrice had pulled off the smuggler's cache beneath the table and was helping her sisters out. The shorter one had glanced into the pink box and frowned, prompting Ava to pick it up.
“Yeah, I should probably put this away.”
She hid it back in the kitchen for a later use. Once all three women had been pulled out of the cache and the table had been reset, they sat in the booth once more. Beatrice was still wearing Ava's jacket, and Ava knew she should have asked for it back, but she liked the sight of Beatrice wearing it. Without her cowl, she could see her hair, pulled into a bun, just as it had been the first night they had met.
“Five hours until Nueva Madrid. We should be in the clear. Just in case I changed the ship's ID.”
The cardigan-wearing woman was standing beside the booth, looking over the books on the shelf above.
“Where did you find so many books? I thought they had become almost impossible to find.”
“I have my ways,” Ava said with a smile. “Sometimes I trade one book for another, it's cheaper.”
“So, Ava, right?” the smaller nun asked. “How do you know Beatrice?”
“Camila,” Beatrice hissed in warning between her teeth.
Camila didn't even grace her with a response, keeping her eyes on Ava instead, a casual, knowing smile on her lips.
“Well, apparently I don't know her,” Ava replied. “I've only mistaken her for someone I met on Ilium.”
Camila turned to Beatrice then.
“Weren't you on Ilium last month?”
“I was,” Beatrice replied, though it was obvious she would rather lie.
The taller nun intervened:
“What were you doing on Ilium?”
“Intel gathering.”
“Yeah, I remember,” Camila continued. “You said you tailed this man to a bar but he drank himself under the table and never met his contact.”
“Yes, he did. As it turned out, Ilium was a waste of time,” Beatrice said, keeping eye contact with Ava as she did.
Ava felt something break in her chest, but she ignored it, barely registering a grimace at the rejection. An awkward, tense quiet fell around the spaceship, prompting the taller nun to get out of the booth.
“Alright, well, I'm hungry.”
She walked into the kitchen. Camila turned to Ava once more.
“I'm sorry about Lilith. She was raised in a Palace.”
“Yeah, about that,” Ava began, but Lilith had already opened and closed every empty cupboard in the kitchen, and was searching through the barren fridge.
“Where do you keep your food, Silva?” she called.
“I'm sorry, but if you wanted a free meal you should have taken a shuttle?” Ava replied.
“Lilith, leave the kitchen alone,” Camila called. “I have food.”
Lilith returned and Camila produced a chocolate bar from one of her pockets, handing it to Lilith who snatched it as she passed and sat in the booth once more.
“You have a piss-poor way of taking care of your customers, Silva.”
Ava rolled her eyes.
“Excuse me, is this free trip not to your accommodations? I can drop you off at the next stop so you can find a smuggler with a full fridge.”
“I'm not complaining,” the cardigan woman said.
She had pulled a book from the shelf and was flipping through the old, yellowed pages.
“Thank you...” Ava's voice trailed off as she realized she didn't know her name.
“I should have introduced myself earlier. I'm Yasmine Amunet. It's a pleasure to meet you.”
Lilith glared at Yasmine, and she shrank in her seat.
“Working for the OCS must be a blast with you around,” Ava commented, earning herself also a glare from Lilith.
“I don't work for the OCS,” Yasmine explained. “Well, not yet. But I know something that... I mean...”
Lilith was glaring even harder at her, willing her to shut up, and so Yasmine fell quiet. Ava shrugged it off. It was better this way. Plausible deniability and all.
Beatrice, who had been quiet and thoughtful since the conversation had shifted away from her, stood up suddenly.
“I should change back,” she announced, then disappeared in the bathroom.
Ava watched her go and bit her lower lip. Her heart was being wrung out in her chest. She felt like an idiot for having pined over a girl who obviously wanted nothing to do with her. She should have taken the hint when she had woken up alone that morning. But she hadn't. She sighed. The least she could do, she thought, was apologize for making things uncomfortable. She followed her to the bathroom.
Ava lingered on the other side of the bathroom door for long minutes. She wanted to knock but couldn't bring her hand up to do so. She was afraid of making things worse, yet still her desire to apologize lingered, and she couldn't step away. When she did knock, it surprised even her. She cleared her throat.
“Beatrice? It's me. Can I come in for a second?”
She held her breath as she waited for an answer.
“Yes.”
Ava opened the door and stepped in, closing behind her. Beatrice hadn't put her armor on yet, but she had taken off Ava's leather jacket, as it rested on the counter beside the sink. The black, long-sleeved tee-shirt she wore beneath was tight, and Ava had to fight not to look at the way it molded her arms. She was leaned over the sink, eyes cast on the faucet.
“I'm sorry if I made things awkward back there,” Ava began. “I just...”
She stopped herself. She kept her longing to herself, though Beatrice seemed to feel it anyway.
“This is a job, Captain Silva. In a handful of hours you will drop us off and we will never see each other again. It's for the best.”
Ava bit her lower lip and looked away, missing the pained glance Beatrice gave her in the mirror. Beatrice took a deep breath. She pushed herself up, straightening. Ava's eyes still weren't meeting hers, her lip worried between her teeth. Beatrice had to avert her eyes too.
“Don't take this the wrong way,” Beatrice continued. “I am sworn to the OCS. The universe is in danger and I need to focus on the mission. My mission, right now, is to make sure Yasmine gets to our base safe.”
Ava replied without conviction:
“I understand. It's fine. You've got the world to save and I have my job too. There's no place for the rest.”
Beatrice nodded.
“I'm glad you understand.”
She picked up the leather jacket beside the sink and handed it to Ava.
“Thank you, for the jacket. But it looks better on you.”
She paused, arm not quite outstretched to hand Ava her jacket. A light dusting of pink spread over her cheeks. She pursed her lips, looking down the jacket. Ava reached for it tentatively, half-certain Beatrice wouldn't give it back. Instead, the instant Ava touched it, Beatrice let it go as if it had burned her. She picked up her body armor in the shower and stepped out of the room, leaving Ava behind. Ava sighed and slid the leather jacket back on. It was probably impossible, but she could swear that it smelled like Beatrice now. It made Ava want to cry.