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wordsontongue2011-07-31 02:15 pm
vbmods.livejournal.com) wrote in wordsontongue2011-07-31 02:15 pm
Banging on the Moon for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shegollum
Title: Banging on the Moon
Author:foxrafer
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Request: Genres - AU, h/c, romance, fantasy; any ratings; Prompt(s) or general mood(s) - lazy, hospital, horse
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. It's make believe and completely untrue.
Author's Note: Sean's POV
On the far side of tomorrow the planet will expel its inhabitants like a cancerous wound. It will reclaim acres upon acres through flooding and earthquakes, and what remains will be in a constant battle against extreme temperatures, the elements, ferocious storms beyond measure. Food will become scarce, animals will become extinct and man will soon follow. The people of Earth will hurriedly organize a global evacuation, escaping into the stars on a hastily organized fleet of space-worthy ships. Only a lucky few will make it on board, the fate of the human race in their hands.
They'd been flying for several weeks and Sean had barely spoken a word to anyone. Other than the reports he was required to deliver once a week to the ship's captain and the fleet's commander – always clipped and succinct – several days could pass without a single syllable escaping his lips and he felt no need to change that. The world he knew was gone, rapidly devouring itself, and everyone he knew, everything he cared for, were being destroyed with it.
He had quickly earned the reputation as being both taciturn and difficult, would have been marked as a trouble maker had he been with the general population, but they left him to his own devices because he was the one who kept the food supplies growing. He'd earned his seat onboard because of his expertise with hydroponics and alternative controlled environment agriculture. And his selection had already proven invaluable. His knowledge, the retrofits he'd made to the agri-suites, had enhanced growth cycles and increased all of their chances for survival. If he seemed to hate the entire human race they were willing to leave him to it.
The biggest surprise once he came onboard was to find the ship had been specifically designed for food production. He had come prepared to work with whatever raw materials were available, putting together temporary structures until more appropriate equipment could be constructed. But instead he found a ship with a minimal number of sleeping and engineering facilities, a couple of cargo and shuttle bays, and every other square inch devoted to agriculture and the mechanical devices required for a space-bound operation. Sean never forgot, however, that the ship had only been completed in the final days before evacuation, and he was hurtling through space in a prototype vessel untested in any conditions.
Sean slowly walked down the aisle, examining different plants and making note of their growth, methodically adjusting the computerized settings that controlled the nutrient flow and light filters. He knew the time would come when he wouldn't have to keep such a watchful eye on everything, but for now it was imperative. All of his work and the theories he'd developed were sound planet-side, but the unknown variable of space travel was affecting everything - sometimes positively, sometimes negatively – and for now he needed to stay on top of things.
He moved to the suite's main computer terminal and entered a few small alterations to the programming. The accelerated growth rate of one batch of wheat needed to be slowed; it was always a delicate balance between increasing production and retaining nutrient values. And as always when he worked on these calculations he thought about all of the researchers who'd helped him perfect these methodologies, all of whom had been left behind.
Whenever his mind drifted to the selection process, the chaos that ensued as people were forcibly left behind, it made him feel sick. He understood there was no physical or practical way to evacuate an entire planet of people. And he also couldn't argue with the idea that certain specialties and knowledge were needed on board if only to ensure those on the ships could survive until they reached what would either become a temporary or permanent settlement. But the inevitable unfairness in how the remaining seats were filled, the backdoor deals, the bribes, the prejudiced and shameful skewing toward those who were wealthier or better connected at the expense of everyone else, left him with a rancid taste in his mouth.
No one else from his lab had made it, and no amount of argument from him had changed any official's mind. He'd thought about giving up his spot, staying behind with his colleagues and friends. But in the end the natural need for survival was too strong, the fear of what remaining on the planet would mean too great. Some days he felt like a coward for being here. Every day he felt completely alone and friendless.
Except that wasn't entirely true. There was one person on board that should think of him as their friend.
Almost from the moment they broke orbit, he'd had the distinct impression he was being watched. Not all the time and never in a menacing way, but often when he'd be in the primary agri-suite, there was no mistaking the sensation of being observed and the frequency of the feeling slowly began to increase. Then small amounts of food began to disappear, mostly from the food stores but every now and then a few of the experimental grapes he was working on would be gone as well. If Sean didn't keep such detailed records he could very easily have missed it. Whoever was taking them was doing their best to be unobtrusive and as far as Sean was concerned he was happy to help them.
The idea of a stowaway pleased Sean and he hoped there were more on board the entire fleet, but he wondered how they were surviving. Whoever his stowaway was had lucked into being on this ship where the food was grown and the primary pantries were filled. Food storage on the other ships were kept to a minimum, in part because of the premium of space but also to cut down on hoarding and the possibility that some may take more than the specific allotment. Anyone hiding on another vessel could never take enough to live on without being noticed.
As this pattern of small amounts disappearing continued, Sean began to worry that someone might start noticing a discrepancy between the inventory and what Sean had been reporting. So far they'd only checked the stores against his records once since the evacuation, but if they were to do so again there may very well be enough of a difference to raise suspicions. So Sean began to fudge his figures. He slowly reduced the number of grapes that were ripening on the developmental vines, in effect making it appear that the growth rate had practically stopped for several days. Knowing which ships kept the most inaccurate accounts, he started to note that an extra supply of soy or bread had been distributed to them while actually squirreling it away in a small pack. When creating the weekly food rations, he'd slip the small amount of extra food into one of the ration bags then carelessly hide it in plain sight, on the floor just as you entered the main storage area. If someone else found it it would simply look like it had been accidentally dropped during a supply run.
As he'd hoped, his stowaway began to take the weekly ration pack but additional food still continued to disappear, making Sean wonder if the person just wasn't very bright. It should have been obvious after a few times when an identical package was left in the same location every week that this was being done on purpose. But then it struck Sean that his stowaway might be feeding more than themselves, if maybe an entire family was dependent on Sean. If they were just being greedy now was the time to stop them. But if others were involved, they needed to work out a plan that could keep everyone fed and healthy. Sean needed to find out the truth.
There was a secondary entrance to the small office he'd set up at the back of the main agri-suite that no one used. He'd placed a small experimental crop of grain in front of it, effectively making it impassable. That afternoon, Sean carefully shifted the table as if he needed to work on one of the connections, making just enough room for an adult to be able to slip through the door, and as quietly as possible he pulled the door ajar, unsure if he'd be able to open it from the outside. Then he went about his duties as usual, trying to act as normally as possible although inside he was tense and jittery. He didn't think his stowaway would be violent, but if they felt threatened there was no telling what might happen.
The end of the day couldn't come fast enough, and finally he felt it was close enough to his normal quitting time for him to put down the busy work he'd been unable to concentrate on all afternoon and leave without making his stowaway suspicious. He shut everything down, crossed over to the storage area and left a set of rations in his usual place, and forced himself to walk slowly out the door without looking back. Then he hurried around to the adjacent corridor and quietly slipped in the door, ducked behind his desk and waited. Tonight he was going to be the watcher.
Sean didn't have to wait for long. After about half an hour he heard what sounded like a scrape of metal from somewhere nearby followed by a small thud and quiet footsteps. He resisted the urge to look until he was certain they had made it to the storage room, then softly stepped out and ducked from table to table until he could see the large windows at the front of the food stores. The next moment his stowaway, a man, straightened up in front of the window having just picked up the weekly ration package Sean had left.
One look at the man and Sean had his answer about whether he was sharing the food. Of a similar build to Sean, he was too thin, not yet dangerously so, but clearly the frame of someone who hadn't been getting their full share of meals for some time. He wore faded jeans and sneakers and a long-sleeved red sweatshirt that swam on his body and had visible worn patches that would soon be holes. For a moment he stood looking at the rows of shelves and cabinets, then proceeded into the room. Sean crept toward the door, then slipped inside and behind the long counter he used as a desk and a sorting table, watching the man make his way up and down several aisles, taking small amounts from the backs of various shelves.
Stealth was clearly not Sean's forte, as after only a couple of minutes the man visibly stiffened, and Sean could feel his anxiety and the thrum of wiry energy as he weighed whether he could get out of the room before being caught. Sean didn't want to chase him down or fight with him, so with a confidence he didn't quite feel he stepped out from behind the counter.
"If I'd wanted to turn you in, a security detail would already be here."
The man didn't move and Sean continued forward, effectively cutting off his retreat.
"I thought it was about time we met," Sean said, keeping an easy and casual tone to his voice.
Slowly the man turned around, the pack held loosely at his side but his body clearly still tense. He seemed to be about Sean's age with a full beard masking the lower half of his face, and slightly unruly sandy hair nearly covering the top. Sean thought he saw streaks of grey in both his beard and hair, and even from this distance a quiet desperation in his penetrating eyes.
"Who are you sharing with? Your family?"
The man hesitated for a moment, seemingly trying to decide if Sean could be trusted enough to risk the others. "Not my family, just others like me."
"How many?"
"There are eight of us together on this ship, at least six on the Explorer." At Sean's surprised expression Viggo continued. "One of their stowaways snuck on board a shuttle run looking for food and found us. We've been helping each other ever since."
Once Sean knew there was someone on board this ship, he'd suspected the others could have extra passengers as well. But hearing it confirmed was still a bit of a shock. There was no way he could support all of them.
"What's your name?"
Another hesitation, then a resigned sigh. "Viggo."
"I'm Sean," he replied, stepping forward with his hand extended. This time Viggo didn't hesitate, but met Sean half way and shook his hand.
"I thought about coming out, you know. To say something to you when I realized you were deliberately leaving out food."
"Why didn't you?"
"Afraid of getting caught."
"What really could they do to you now?"
"I'd rather not find out so," Viggo hoisted the pack onto his shoulder and started to move past Sean toward the door, "I need to get a move on."
"Wait. We need to figure out what to do about this."
"What's there to do, Sean? We're stowaways."
"And there's no need for you to stay that way. Besides, you're all probably slowly starving to death. I can't cover up the loss of eight sets of rations, let alone 14. We have to do something."
"And I have to leave. I've already been here too long."
"No one's coming in here."
"I'm sorry, I really can't stay."
"Ok, ok." Sean looked around desperately, trying to think of something. He caught sight of a notepad on the counter and moved to pick it up. "When we can't talk we can use messages, all right? Leave them in that front panel of the tray of grapes you like."
Viggo seemed to startle a little, surprised and uncomfortable knowing Sean had noticed he had taken some.
"What are you talking about?"
"It's fine; they're not for general distribution yet."
"How did you even know?"
Sean smiled a little. "Probably no one else would have noticed. When it comes to keeping records I can be a bit..." he trailed off, a hint of embarrassment.
"Anal," Viggo finished, and Sean's full laugh made Viggo visibly relax for the first time.
"That might be an understatement," he replied and watched happily as Viggo slowly smiled. Maybe they could develop some kind of trust sooner rather than later.
"Well, I am sorry but I really need to..." Viggo began, stepping once more toward the door.
"Right. So we'll use the notes? Try to work this out together?"
"Fine." Viggo started to leave but then stopped and looked back at Sean. "Thank you," he said, then hurried out of the room.
For the next couple of weeks they exchanged notes nearly every day. At first the 'conversation' was decidedly one-sided, with every message from Sean answered by monosyllabic and reticent responses. But gradually Viggo's trust grew and they began to bounce ideas back and forth, figuring out temporary food solutions and considering different scenarios for what would happen once the stowaways were known to the fleet. And slowly they started to talk to each other beyond the business at hand, ask questions and share stories. Sean found himself looking forward to each new message, hurrying to work every morning to see if Viggo had left a new note. To his surprise he realized he considered Viggo a friend, one he would miss terribly if anything were to happen to him.
Sean secretly commandeered a small unused cubby area at the back of one of the food bays and set up another hydroponic table to grow some extra food. It wasn't connected to the overall system so he had to provide the nourished liquid himself, but that was easy to explain if anyone ever noticed. Part of his job, after all, was experimenting with different growth mechanisms. He also began to reduce the size of the standard weekly rations by barely noticeable amounts, but when combined added up to a few healthy portions. As a team of people put the packages together each week, this required altering the cups and scales that were used to measure the rations. Then it was simply a matter of calculating the combined total of the extra food not included in the packages, and leaving the info for Viggo to collect overnight.
One morning there was no note and the entire pad was missing and Sean worried all day that someone had discovered what he'd been doing. Pushing his concerns down as much as he could, he grabbed a new pad and left another message asking if everything was ok and was relieved to find a response the next day. Viggo'd taken the pad with him so he'd have time to write an actual letter and Sean spent the next several minutes reading and re-reading the message, feeling his admiration and affection for Viggo growing with each word, each display of humor and intelligence. They began to write multiple page letters to each other, sharing ever more personal stories. Viggo wrote about his lifelong love of horses - "Horses saved my life; no lie." - and his work on a wild horse sanctuary. How when the troubles first started he struggled in vain to save two horses who were injured during a panicked frenzy in an enclosure, how it broke his heart to think those beautiful animals were now fending for themselves and would soon very likely be extinct along with everything else left on Earth.
Sean hadn't intended to talk about his colleagues, how it hurt to leave them behind, but he found himself writing it out anyway, confessing how he felt like a coward for being on this ship, for not staying with the others or insisting that they be allowed to come with him. The next day there was no response from Viggo, and Sean felt ashamed, convinced Viggo must be disgusted with him and what he had done. But that night just before he left for the day, he heard the metal slide of the hatch Viggo used, and the next moment Viggo was in his office.
They'd decided early on it would be too risky to meet face-to-face, at least before they'd worked out a plan, on the off chance that someone was passing by and caught two voices coming from the suite. So seeing Viggo standing there, even more disheveled but a bit more hale and healthy, took Sean completely by surprise. He stood and quickly crossed over to him, looking out into the suite before closing the door.
"What are you doing here?"
Viggo unfolded the notepaper he had clutched in his hand, Sean's note from the day before. "Were you serious when you wrote this?"
Sean felt himself flush, wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. The room was small but he walked as far from Viggo as he could. "Not exactly the actions of an admirable man, I know."
"Right, because there's nothing admirable about keeping Earth's refugees alive."
Sean turned, a hint of anger in his voice. "You know what I mean."
Viggo looked at Sean as if he'd just grown a second head.
"You realize they would have forced you to come anyway, right? They need you. Second best or nearly as good won't do for a trip like this. They would have taken you against your will if it came down to that. That's what happened to Aleida Jeppeson. She's the top geneticist in the world and the leader in cloning technologies. She turned them down and was arrested on the spot."
"How do you know that?"
"I saw it happen. She was my friend's neighbor and we watched the whole thing. It wasn't pretty."
Sean didn't know how to respond to that. It had never occurred to him that he never had a choice. Viggo smiled as the silence lengthened, watching Sean struggle to process that information. "You're a good man, Sean Bean. Stop beating yourself up about it. Besides, if you weren't here who would I have to talk to?" Viggo sunk down and sat cross-legged on the floor. "And who would steal food for me?"
"That's not theft, just another form of distribution," Sean replied, moving to sit across from Viggo, his back propped against the wall.
"I really lucked out landing on the food ship. I saw how much work you put in to get everything going. Wished I could have helped."
"Most of it was in place, just needed a little finessing. I did have to cobble some things together."
"Why are you the only person who manages all of it? And food distribution?"
"Other than harvesting and putting the rations together, it only takes one. I volunteered to oversee distribution and storage."
"Why?"
"The main food stores are here. Keeps people out of my hair most of the time. Besides, if only one man's needed to maintain food production and organize its distribution it frees up other people for duties elsewhere."
"I've always wondered why they don't serve everything cafeteria style, make large portions for everyone on board. Wouldn't that save on stocks?"
"I suggested it when we first set out but they claim there aren't facilities for it onboard."
"That seems ... unlikely. Cate says some of the VIPs on her ship were allowed to bring animals on board, in a couple of instances horses; that's space right there."
"Cate?"
"The woman I mentioned before, who snuck on board to find food."
"And she's seen these animals?"
Viggo nodded. "She says none of them are faring well and they never miss a meal."
"I have nothing against animals but you and the others should take precedence. At the very least we could use some of that space for food service."
"You wouldn't even need much room. People don't have to eat in the same place, just pick up the food from there. A field kitchen only needs minimal set up, with enough counter space for service."
"Do you have experience with that?"
"Some."
Sean was getting used to Viggo's tendency to talk down his abilities and knowledge and decided that in fact he probably knew a great deal.
"Can you cook, too?"
"If you're suggesting I could..."
"It'd be a great thing to throw out there when we finally tell the others there are stowaways aboard. If a few more of you could help maybe they'd see the practical benefits to having you here and not just the ethical ones."
"And then you'd have an excuse to see me every day," Viggo teased but his eyes were deadly serious. "We'd have to work together pretty closely, I'd imagine."
Sean felt himself blush, a slight tinge to his cheeks. "I suppose we would."
Viggo held Sean's eyes for a second more, than pushed up onto his feet. "I really should get a move on."
"Right," Sean replied, slowly standing up. "I wondered if, ehm, maybe you could come again tomorrow. Just for a few minutes."
"Sure, we've probably been overly cautious anyway." Viggo paused for a moment, as if he wanted to say or do something but was unsure whether he should. Finally he simply ducked his head slightly and smiled, turning toward the door. Sean put out his hand to stop him, then quickly looked outside to make sure the coast was clear. As Viggo headed back for the hatch, he stopped and looked back toward Sean.
"Can I grab another of those grapes before I go?"
Sean smiled broadly. "You must have quite the sweet tooth," he said, walking toward the table where the grapes were being grown. "I've been looking at these to possibly be a sugar substitute." He plucked two grapes from the vine and handed them to Viggo. "I don't know how you can eat them straight."
Viggo popped one in his mouth and gave Sean a wide, toothy grin. "Better than candy," he laughed.
Sean pulled out the sandwich he'd made that morning, a few of the sweet grapes that Viggo loved and what was left of his daily allotment of water and sat down to wait for Viggo. They hadn't actually shared a meal before and he was a little unsure of Viggo's reaction. It'd be easy to explain it away if Viggo wasn't keen on the idea, simply say he forgot to eat lunch or he planned to eat it for dinner. But he was less sure how well he'd be able to hide the disappointment in his face.
In no time he heard the metal scrape of the hatch, but then the much louder clang of the main door sliding open startled him. Heavy footsteps echoed across the room and Sean tried to push down his panic. Clearly no one had noticed the hatch or seen anything out of the ordinary; they were heading straight for the office and it would be better to get them all inside so Viggo would be able to leave without being seen. The next moment Captain Ashcroft and two of the security detail walked through the door, and Sean felt his anxiety rising again. He stood to greet them.
"Captain. What can I do for you?"
"I need to relieve you of duty, Mr. Bean, effective immediately, and place you under house arrest."
Despite his concern over Viggo almost being caught and the obvious seriousness of the situation, Sean couldn't help finding the notion of his being put into custody completely absurd. It's not that he saw himself as above the law, but there was no denying they were dependent on him. Whatever they thought he had done, outside of murder or something on that scale, he knew they couldn't afford to levy too steep a punishment.
"Under what grounds," he demanded.
"Theft. We have proof you've been stealing food."
Sean wasn't completely surprised. He'd been taking bigger risks as the days went on, trying to do everything possible to get as much food as he could to Viggo and the others. But he'd also been covering his tracks and coming up with explanations and cover stories for almost everything he'd done. He was fairly confident he could talk his way out of any trouble, although it would mean they'd be keeping a much closer eye on him and that would translate to an inability to get Viggo the extra food. But he and Viggo would come up with something. Now it was imperative that he get over this first hurdle and that meant hearing the full extent of the charges.
"And what proof is that?"
"You needn't worry about receiving a fair hearing. All the evidence will be presented and you'll have an opportunity to respond."
"And by the time I've answered these ridiculous charges the crops will have suffered, some irreversibly, and you would be responsible for our not harvesting what we need to continue feeding the entire fleet. Forgive me for being blunt, but that's a load of bollocks. You're going to tell me who's made this accusation and what proof they have right now."
Ashcroft looked like he was about to explode. "Security!"
"No! Please don't."
Sean's gut clenched at the raspy voice from the doorway; he'd hoped Viggo had left. His coming forward to try and help was very much in character but it was the last thing Sean wanted.
"Who the hell are you?!" Ashcroft demanded.
"I'm the person who's been stealing the food."
"No, he's not," Sean interjected.
"Yes, I am."
"Who are you?!" Ashcroft roared.
"My name is Viggo Mortensen. I managed to sneak on board the ship before take-off and I've been living in the mechanical shafts ever since."
"A stowaway."
"Yes. And I've been taking the food."
"I gave him the food," Sean jumped in. "Supplies for him and seven others on this ship, six more on the Explorer." Sean caught the angry look Viggo shot him, understanding he hadn't intended to tell the captain about the others. But Sean also knew it would be too easy to write off one thieving stowaway. Several would be much more difficult. If they were going to get all of them integrated into the general population now was the time. He looked at Viggo, hoping to convey enough confidence that Viggo would trust his judgment, then continued.
"For a while now I've been reducing the amounts distributed in the weekly rations, and giving the leftovers along with a couple of complete packs to Viggo to distribute to the others. It made no sense for them to starve, and now it makes no sense for them to remain hidden."
"Keeping them hidden was the last thing I planned to do. I intend to arrest them."
"What good would that do?!"
"C'mon man, we're already here!"
Sean and Viggo shouted over each other in utter disbelief, and Sean noticed a slight reaction from the guard closest to the door, a small chink in her facade of indifference. Arresting someone stealing food was one thing; arresting people just trying to live was something else altogether. Sean stepped beside Viggo and continued the argument.
"You and I both know that whatever amount of punishment is devised for their supposed crime, it wouldn't be life in prison."
"At some point," Viggo continued, "we're going to be released and be part of the general population anyway."
"Why not just make that happen now..."
"Instead of after we've become bitter and angry and turned into actual criminals and not just people looking for a way to survive."
Ashcroft looked irritated at this tag team approach, but also a little amused. "How do you propose we feed them?" he asked, looking pointedly at Sean.
"We'd have to feed them in the brig anyway," the guard, their silent ally, jumped in.
"Did I give the impression I was talking to you, Officer?" Ashcroft growled.
"The same way we feed everyone else," Sean interjected quickly. "Food isn't a problem."
"And house them?"
"A few more beds in the bunk rooms aren't going to make any difference. More permanent solutions can wait."
"If we had found them when we were still within range of the last space station," Ashcroft mused, almost to himself, we could have left them there."
"Where there really would be a shortage of food and sleeping quarters." Sean was growing more and more frustrated. The captain's stubbornness and short-sightedness was beyond belief and getting on his last nerve.
"Look, I appreciate what you were trying to do here, Sean. I can even understand why you didn't come forward when you discovered them, I can. But it's really not up to either of us. We were given orders about how to handle stowaways; any change would have to come from the fleet command."
"But in the meantime," the guard added, speaking quickly and clearly, "we don't have to treat them as prisoners. We can set up some temporary quarters for them, let them come out from whatever hole they've been living in."
Ashcroft glared at the security officer but Sean was glad to see she didn't shrink under the examination. If anything she made a small, barely perceptible step forward, closing the ranks with Viggo and Sean. The captain sighed, rubbed his hand across his face, and Sean could see that they were winning.
"Honestly, Captain, I can't believe we're even having this conversation. We're housing and feeding horses and other animals just because their owners are rich and supposedly important people. How can you justify not doing the same for a few people just because they weren't on the official rosters?"
"I'm sorry; what?"
Sean thought Ashcroft looked genuinely surprised. "One of the stowaways onboard the Explorer has seen animals being kept on that ship, being fed and cared for with supplies intended for human passengers."
The captain looked at Viggo who nodded. "It's true. She and the others onboard are hiding very near where two horses are being kept."
"I wouldn't be surprised if whoever figured out the food allotments were short came from that ship; I've reduced their amounts more than the others knowing where some of those rations were going."
"And we always allocated an extra portion of supplies for making bread," Ashcroft murmured, slowly walking away from them. "Bread, it must be said, that never seemed to materialize in significant quantities to distribute to the other ships. Shit." He turned around, looking angrier than he had before.
"There were long discussions about whether we should bring animals. For food, yes, but also just as a kind of Noah's Ark thing, to preserve some of the species from the planet. And they decided it would be too costly and difficult, no guarantee we'd find a place with suitable land, the logistics of separating natural predators from their prey, the uncertainty of whether they'd even survive extended space travel. And then some mealy-mouthed, spineless wonder lets some people bring their pets aboard."
Ashcroft paced back and forth across the small space, gesticulating and muttering to himself as he thought things through. Then he turned and pinned Sean and Viggo with a hard stare. "We're going to need proof. If I'm going to confront fleet command I want more than the word of two stowaways in my pocket."
"If we could get Cate a recording device I'm sure she could get you the proof," Viggo replied.
"And we have to work out some kind of plan for locating and settling everyone, along with revised food distribution protocols and estimates on how long the current stores will last."
"We actually have some ideas about that," Sean added.
"I knew you were going to say something like that." He turned to the guards. "The two of you are dismissed. Return to your posts." As soon as they left the room, he motioned for Viggo to shut the door then sat down heavily in Sean's chair. "Both of you need to understand something. Fleet command has already put together protocols for dealing with stowaways. And if their presence is deemed a risk to the continued survival of the approved passengers we are fully authorized to implement a termination order."
Sean and Viggo both gaped at him, unable to imagine that the worst case scenario they had discarded almost immediately might actually be on the table.
"Before you jump down my throat," Ashcroft continued, "I'm not about to let that happen, even if it means keeping all of them unofficially on this ship. I believe you, Sean, when you say we have enough food, and what's the point of killing people when the whole point of this operation is to save them. I just wanted you both to know the full extent of what we're dealing with, ok? Ok. Let's talk."
Sean never had too much respect for the captain before, but after the three of them talked for nearly an hour he came to see that despite being more than a little stubborn, Ashcroft could be a reasonable man. Things moved quickly after that, and Sean knew Viggo wouldn't be happy with the rushed and insensitive methods the fleet employed to root everyone out from hiding and quarantine them in medical for a week. It caused a lot of undue stress and conflict when it could have been handled quietly and calmly with just a little more planning. But in the end they found 73 stowaways aboard the entire fleet, most in ill health, and they were all systematically being integrated into the general population.
The whole process had been too fast for Sean, as well. He wasn't involved, which was only logical given his job in the fleet, but it meant the minute Viggo walked out the door with the captain he'd, in essence, walked out of Sean's life. They hadn't been able to see or even speak to each other, and Sean only knew he and the others were all right through official reports and the occasional request for fresh medicinal plants from the main fleet hospital.
He hadn't realized how much he'd grown attached to Viggo until he wasn't there, and he wondered if Viggo was having similar feelings. But still being completely unsure, Sean chose to stay silent and keep his distance. Viggo was getting on with his life on board one of the other ships and Sean needed to do the same. He went about his duties as usual, but he missed all the secretive extra work he used to do when he was supplying food to the stowaways. He almost felt as if he had too much time on his hands, like there were no challenges to make the day interesting. But more than anything, he realized this sensation of idleness was more of a sense of loss, of missing the regular company that his partnership with Viggo provided.
A couple of weeks passed and Sean was preparing for the first harvest. The crew who put together the rations would be helping, and they'd recruited a few additional people so the process would be completed as quickly as possible. Sean finished work on the new storage bays for the fresh crop, a little tired from the recent extra work and slightly cranky that equipment he'd requested had still not been delivered, when he walked into his office and found a man sitting at his desk. When he turned around and Sean saw his eyes, he realized at once it was Viggo. All of the hair that had covered his face was gone; instead he was clean shaven with almost a buzz cut where once had been a mass of salt and pepper hair. He'd put on a few pounds and looked strong and healthy, and he wore a fresh change of clothes and standard issue work boots.
Sean stood for a moment frozen in place, stunned into silence. His mind alternated between being too full with unspoken words and completely empty. Then Viggo got to his feet and Sean saw the shift from hopefulness to sadness and disappointment in his eyes, and Sean's own doubt and fear seemed to lessen, replaced by the certainty in the importance of this moment. Even then all he could manage was a hoarse exclamation: "Viggo." But it was enough to put a small spark back in Viggo's eyes.
"Wasn't sure you'd recognize me."
"I can finally see your face."
"Not too nightmarish, I hope."
Sean wanted to say how handsome he found him, how even when he was at his scruffiest he didn't think he'd ever been so attracted to someone. Instead he just smiled and laughed. "I think I'll live."
He finally found his feet and walked further into the room, his hand awkwardly extended, the other shifting nervously at his side. "It's good to see you."
Viggo sensed his indecision and made the choice for Sean, holding out his arms and wrapping Sean in a warm hug. Sean held Viggo tightly as if he was trying to absorb him through his skin, tried to memorize the feel of him in case this was the last time he'd ever be this close.
They pulled apart and Sean was almost certain he saw the same affection, an identical desire in Viggo's eyes before he stepped back and shifted his gaze to the floor.
"I volunteered to help with the harvest," he said, walking past Sean toward the entrance.
"Oh." Sean didn't try to hide the disappointment in his voice.
Viggo closed the office door and turned to face Sean. "But I would have come anyway."
"Yeah?"
"It finally occurred to me that they wouldn't think to tell you where I was and that you might be too embarrassed to ask."
"I don't get embarrassed."
"Shy then. You strike me as a very private person."
Sean smirked. "That I am."
"So I decided I should stop waiting for you to send me a message or give me a call. Even though you wouldn't have to involve anyone else, just log in to the computer system and look up my name. Unless of course you'd forgotten my name."
"All right, all right," Sean laughed. "I'm sorry. And I'd have to be dim not to remember your name."
Viggo looked at him pointedly, cocking his head as if he was trying to coax the words from Sean, but the look of amusement in his eyes belied the annoyed expression. Sean forced a serious expression on his face as he slowly walked over to Viggo, practically invading his space.
"Your name is Viggo Mortensen," he said in a very somber tone, and when Viggo responded with a broad smile he raised his hand and nudged Viggo's chin with his fingers, sliding his thumb down the cleft. "And I couldn't forget you no matter how much I tried to convince myself you'd rather be left alone."
Viggo's eyes darkened, the smile sliding from his face, and they stood and stared into each other for countless moments before the console beeped loudly, startling them. Sean cleared his throat and walked over to the device, scrolling through the message he'd just received.
"The captain thinks I need to be reminded of our meeting this afternoon," he scowled, "as if I've ever forgotten once since coming on board."
"I bet there's some kind of regulation that requires him to do that before every meeting."
"I wouldn't be surprised."
The room fell uncomfortably silent, and Sean felt restless, as if standing still was causing him actual physical pain. He watched Viggo fidget and shift his stance before rubbing a hand across his face.
"Ask me what I've been doing," Viggo said.
"What have you been doing?"
"I've been stationed on the flagship, helping to integrate the stowaways to regular ship life."
"That's great. You're really suited for that."
"And I've been bending the fleet commander's ear. Almost have him convinced we should stop doling out ration packs and serve group meals instead."
"How'd you manage that?"
"Funny how being charming is a lot more effective than being surly toward people."
"I'm not surly."
"How quickly you forget, Sean. Remember, I'm the one who used to listen to you interacting with the crew. I always half expected you to start throwing punches."
"Am I that bad?"
"I was shocked the first time I found a package of rations just laying out because you didn't seem the type to have done that by accident, and I couldn't figure out why a bastard like you would be deliberately helping me."
Sean couldn't help laughing. "And I thought at first you might be dumb or greedy when you kept taking more."
"I was really lucky to end up on this ship."
"You and the others, yeah. I'm amazed all the rest managed to stay alive for all that time."
"No, I mean, yes it was fortunate to be near the food, but what I meant was I was lucky to find myself on the same ship as you."
Sean felt his cheeks begin to flush and he looked down at the floor. "What are we doing, Viggo?"
This time it was Viggo who invaded Sean's space, waiting until Sean lifted his eyes. "We're learning where friendship can lead."
"And the possibilities are endless."
"Absolutely. But right now you have a meeting to go to and I was supposed to check in with one of your flunkies when I arrived so... why don't you invite me to dinner tonight."
"Ok. There's more room here than in my quarters."
"I don't need a lot of room, do you?"
Sean thought he could live off that half-smile and the matching gleam in Viggo's eyes. "I'm on Deck C, Bunk 30."
"In three hours?" When Sean nodded, Viggo started to leave then paused with his hand on the door. "There's this saying about beating on the moon to make all your wishes come true. How many moons do you think we've passed, Sean? I think I've been banging on all of them." He flashed a broad and vibrant smile then walked out of the room.
When I was a kid I used to tell myself the moon was a silver gong and if I could climb high enough to beat on it with both hands all my wishes would come true. - John Dos Passos
Author:
foxraferRating: G
Warnings: None
Request: Genres - AU, h/c, romance, fantasy; any ratings; Prompt(s) or general mood(s) - lazy, hospital, horse
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. It's make believe and completely untrue.
Author's Note: Sean's POV
On the far side of tomorrow the planet will expel its inhabitants like a cancerous wound. It will reclaim acres upon acres through flooding and earthquakes, and what remains will be in a constant battle against extreme temperatures, the elements, ferocious storms beyond measure. Food will become scarce, animals will become extinct and man will soon follow. The people of Earth will hurriedly organize a global evacuation, escaping into the stars on a hastily organized fleet of space-worthy ships. Only a lucky few will make it on board, the fate of the human race in their hands.
They'd been flying for several weeks and Sean had barely spoken a word to anyone. Other than the reports he was required to deliver once a week to the ship's captain and the fleet's commander – always clipped and succinct – several days could pass without a single syllable escaping his lips and he felt no need to change that. The world he knew was gone, rapidly devouring itself, and everyone he knew, everything he cared for, were being destroyed with it.
He had quickly earned the reputation as being both taciturn and difficult, would have been marked as a trouble maker had he been with the general population, but they left him to his own devices because he was the one who kept the food supplies growing. He'd earned his seat onboard because of his expertise with hydroponics and alternative controlled environment agriculture. And his selection had already proven invaluable. His knowledge, the retrofits he'd made to the agri-suites, had enhanced growth cycles and increased all of their chances for survival. If he seemed to hate the entire human race they were willing to leave him to it.
The biggest surprise once he came onboard was to find the ship had been specifically designed for food production. He had come prepared to work with whatever raw materials were available, putting together temporary structures until more appropriate equipment could be constructed. But instead he found a ship with a minimal number of sleeping and engineering facilities, a couple of cargo and shuttle bays, and every other square inch devoted to agriculture and the mechanical devices required for a space-bound operation. Sean never forgot, however, that the ship had only been completed in the final days before evacuation, and he was hurtling through space in a prototype vessel untested in any conditions.
Sean slowly walked down the aisle, examining different plants and making note of their growth, methodically adjusting the computerized settings that controlled the nutrient flow and light filters. He knew the time would come when he wouldn't have to keep such a watchful eye on everything, but for now it was imperative. All of his work and the theories he'd developed were sound planet-side, but the unknown variable of space travel was affecting everything - sometimes positively, sometimes negatively – and for now he needed to stay on top of things.
He moved to the suite's main computer terminal and entered a few small alterations to the programming. The accelerated growth rate of one batch of wheat needed to be slowed; it was always a delicate balance between increasing production and retaining nutrient values. And as always when he worked on these calculations he thought about all of the researchers who'd helped him perfect these methodologies, all of whom had been left behind.
Whenever his mind drifted to the selection process, the chaos that ensued as people were forcibly left behind, it made him feel sick. He understood there was no physical or practical way to evacuate an entire planet of people. And he also couldn't argue with the idea that certain specialties and knowledge were needed on board if only to ensure those on the ships could survive until they reached what would either become a temporary or permanent settlement. But the inevitable unfairness in how the remaining seats were filled, the backdoor deals, the bribes, the prejudiced and shameful skewing toward those who were wealthier or better connected at the expense of everyone else, left him with a rancid taste in his mouth.
No one else from his lab had made it, and no amount of argument from him had changed any official's mind. He'd thought about giving up his spot, staying behind with his colleagues and friends. But in the end the natural need for survival was too strong, the fear of what remaining on the planet would mean too great. Some days he felt like a coward for being here. Every day he felt completely alone and friendless.
Except that wasn't entirely true. There was one person on board that should think of him as their friend.
Almost from the moment they broke orbit, he'd had the distinct impression he was being watched. Not all the time and never in a menacing way, but often when he'd be in the primary agri-suite, there was no mistaking the sensation of being observed and the frequency of the feeling slowly began to increase. Then small amounts of food began to disappear, mostly from the food stores but every now and then a few of the experimental grapes he was working on would be gone as well. If Sean didn't keep such detailed records he could very easily have missed it. Whoever was taking them was doing their best to be unobtrusive and as far as Sean was concerned he was happy to help them.
The idea of a stowaway pleased Sean and he hoped there were more on board the entire fleet, but he wondered how they were surviving. Whoever his stowaway was had lucked into being on this ship where the food was grown and the primary pantries were filled. Food storage on the other ships were kept to a minimum, in part because of the premium of space but also to cut down on hoarding and the possibility that some may take more than the specific allotment. Anyone hiding on another vessel could never take enough to live on without being noticed.
As this pattern of small amounts disappearing continued, Sean began to worry that someone might start noticing a discrepancy between the inventory and what Sean had been reporting. So far they'd only checked the stores against his records once since the evacuation, but if they were to do so again there may very well be enough of a difference to raise suspicions. So Sean began to fudge his figures. He slowly reduced the number of grapes that were ripening on the developmental vines, in effect making it appear that the growth rate had practically stopped for several days. Knowing which ships kept the most inaccurate accounts, he started to note that an extra supply of soy or bread had been distributed to them while actually squirreling it away in a small pack. When creating the weekly food rations, he'd slip the small amount of extra food into one of the ration bags then carelessly hide it in plain sight, on the floor just as you entered the main storage area. If someone else found it it would simply look like it had been accidentally dropped during a supply run.
As he'd hoped, his stowaway began to take the weekly ration pack but additional food still continued to disappear, making Sean wonder if the person just wasn't very bright. It should have been obvious after a few times when an identical package was left in the same location every week that this was being done on purpose. But then it struck Sean that his stowaway might be feeding more than themselves, if maybe an entire family was dependent on Sean. If they were just being greedy now was the time to stop them. But if others were involved, they needed to work out a plan that could keep everyone fed and healthy. Sean needed to find out the truth.
There was a secondary entrance to the small office he'd set up at the back of the main agri-suite that no one used. He'd placed a small experimental crop of grain in front of it, effectively making it impassable. That afternoon, Sean carefully shifted the table as if he needed to work on one of the connections, making just enough room for an adult to be able to slip through the door, and as quietly as possible he pulled the door ajar, unsure if he'd be able to open it from the outside. Then he went about his duties as usual, trying to act as normally as possible although inside he was tense and jittery. He didn't think his stowaway would be violent, but if they felt threatened there was no telling what might happen.
The end of the day couldn't come fast enough, and finally he felt it was close enough to his normal quitting time for him to put down the busy work he'd been unable to concentrate on all afternoon and leave without making his stowaway suspicious. He shut everything down, crossed over to the storage area and left a set of rations in his usual place, and forced himself to walk slowly out the door without looking back. Then he hurried around to the adjacent corridor and quietly slipped in the door, ducked behind his desk and waited. Tonight he was going to be the watcher.
Sean didn't have to wait for long. After about half an hour he heard what sounded like a scrape of metal from somewhere nearby followed by a small thud and quiet footsteps. He resisted the urge to look until he was certain they had made it to the storage room, then softly stepped out and ducked from table to table until he could see the large windows at the front of the food stores. The next moment his stowaway, a man, straightened up in front of the window having just picked up the weekly ration package Sean had left.
One look at the man and Sean had his answer about whether he was sharing the food. Of a similar build to Sean, he was too thin, not yet dangerously so, but clearly the frame of someone who hadn't been getting their full share of meals for some time. He wore faded jeans and sneakers and a long-sleeved red sweatshirt that swam on his body and had visible worn patches that would soon be holes. For a moment he stood looking at the rows of shelves and cabinets, then proceeded into the room. Sean crept toward the door, then slipped inside and behind the long counter he used as a desk and a sorting table, watching the man make his way up and down several aisles, taking small amounts from the backs of various shelves.
Stealth was clearly not Sean's forte, as after only a couple of minutes the man visibly stiffened, and Sean could feel his anxiety and the thrum of wiry energy as he weighed whether he could get out of the room before being caught. Sean didn't want to chase him down or fight with him, so with a confidence he didn't quite feel he stepped out from behind the counter.
"If I'd wanted to turn you in, a security detail would already be here."
The man didn't move and Sean continued forward, effectively cutting off his retreat.
"I thought it was about time we met," Sean said, keeping an easy and casual tone to his voice.
Slowly the man turned around, the pack held loosely at his side but his body clearly still tense. He seemed to be about Sean's age with a full beard masking the lower half of his face, and slightly unruly sandy hair nearly covering the top. Sean thought he saw streaks of grey in both his beard and hair, and even from this distance a quiet desperation in his penetrating eyes.
"Who are you sharing with? Your family?"
The man hesitated for a moment, seemingly trying to decide if Sean could be trusted enough to risk the others. "Not my family, just others like me."
"How many?"
"There are eight of us together on this ship, at least six on the Explorer." At Sean's surprised expression Viggo continued. "One of their stowaways snuck on board a shuttle run looking for food and found us. We've been helping each other ever since."
Once Sean knew there was someone on board this ship, he'd suspected the others could have extra passengers as well. But hearing it confirmed was still a bit of a shock. There was no way he could support all of them.
"What's your name?"
Another hesitation, then a resigned sigh. "Viggo."
"I'm Sean," he replied, stepping forward with his hand extended. This time Viggo didn't hesitate, but met Sean half way and shook his hand.
"I thought about coming out, you know. To say something to you when I realized you were deliberately leaving out food."
"Why didn't you?"
"Afraid of getting caught."
"What really could they do to you now?"
"I'd rather not find out so," Viggo hoisted the pack onto his shoulder and started to move past Sean toward the door, "I need to get a move on."
"Wait. We need to figure out what to do about this."
"What's there to do, Sean? We're stowaways."
"And there's no need for you to stay that way. Besides, you're all probably slowly starving to death. I can't cover up the loss of eight sets of rations, let alone 14. We have to do something."
"And I have to leave. I've already been here too long."
"No one's coming in here."
"I'm sorry, I really can't stay."
"Ok, ok." Sean looked around desperately, trying to think of something. He caught sight of a notepad on the counter and moved to pick it up. "When we can't talk we can use messages, all right? Leave them in that front panel of the tray of grapes you like."
Viggo seemed to startle a little, surprised and uncomfortable knowing Sean had noticed he had taken some.
"What are you talking about?"
"It's fine; they're not for general distribution yet."
"How did you even know?"
Sean smiled a little. "Probably no one else would have noticed. When it comes to keeping records I can be a bit..." he trailed off, a hint of embarrassment.
"Anal," Viggo finished, and Sean's full laugh made Viggo visibly relax for the first time.
"That might be an understatement," he replied and watched happily as Viggo slowly smiled. Maybe they could develop some kind of trust sooner rather than later.
"Well, I am sorry but I really need to..." Viggo began, stepping once more toward the door.
"Right. So we'll use the notes? Try to work this out together?"
"Fine." Viggo started to leave but then stopped and looked back at Sean. "Thank you," he said, then hurried out of the room.
For the next couple of weeks they exchanged notes nearly every day. At first the 'conversation' was decidedly one-sided, with every message from Sean answered by monosyllabic and reticent responses. But gradually Viggo's trust grew and they began to bounce ideas back and forth, figuring out temporary food solutions and considering different scenarios for what would happen once the stowaways were known to the fleet. And slowly they started to talk to each other beyond the business at hand, ask questions and share stories. Sean found himself looking forward to each new message, hurrying to work every morning to see if Viggo had left a new note. To his surprise he realized he considered Viggo a friend, one he would miss terribly if anything were to happen to him.
Sean secretly commandeered a small unused cubby area at the back of one of the food bays and set up another hydroponic table to grow some extra food. It wasn't connected to the overall system so he had to provide the nourished liquid himself, but that was easy to explain if anyone ever noticed. Part of his job, after all, was experimenting with different growth mechanisms. He also began to reduce the size of the standard weekly rations by barely noticeable amounts, but when combined added up to a few healthy portions. As a team of people put the packages together each week, this required altering the cups and scales that were used to measure the rations. Then it was simply a matter of calculating the combined total of the extra food not included in the packages, and leaving the info for Viggo to collect overnight.
One morning there was no note and the entire pad was missing and Sean worried all day that someone had discovered what he'd been doing. Pushing his concerns down as much as he could, he grabbed a new pad and left another message asking if everything was ok and was relieved to find a response the next day. Viggo'd taken the pad with him so he'd have time to write an actual letter and Sean spent the next several minutes reading and re-reading the message, feeling his admiration and affection for Viggo growing with each word, each display of humor and intelligence. They began to write multiple page letters to each other, sharing ever more personal stories. Viggo wrote about his lifelong love of horses - "Horses saved my life; no lie." - and his work on a wild horse sanctuary. How when the troubles first started he struggled in vain to save two horses who were injured during a panicked frenzy in an enclosure, how it broke his heart to think those beautiful animals were now fending for themselves and would soon very likely be extinct along with everything else left on Earth.
Sean hadn't intended to talk about his colleagues, how it hurt to leave them behind, but he found himself writing it out anyway, confessing how he felt like a coward for being on this ship, for not staying with the others or insisting that they be allowed to come with him. The next day there was no response from Viggo, and Sean felt ashamed, convinced Viggo must be disgusted with him and what he had done. But that night just before he left for the day, he heard the metal slide of the hatch Viggo used, and the next moment Viggo was in his office.
They'd decided early on it would be too risky to meet face-to-face, at least before they'd worked out a plan, on the off chance that someone was passing by and caught two voices coming from the suite. So seeing Viggo standing there, even more disheveled but a bit more hale and healthy, took Sean completely by surprise. He stood and quickly crossed over to him, looking out into the suite before closing the door.
"What are you doing here?"
Viggo unfolded the notepaper he had clutched in his hand, Sean's note from the day before. "Were you serious when you wrote this?"
Sean felt himself flush, wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. The room was small but he walked as far from Viggo as he could. "Not exactly the actions of an admirable man, I know."
"Right, because there's nothing admirable about keeping Earth's refugees alive."
Sean turned, a hint of anger in his voice. "You know what I mean."
Viggo looked at Sean as if he'd just grown a second head.
"You realize they would have forced you to come anyway, right? They need you. Second best or nearly as good won't do for a trip like this. They would have taken you against your will if it came down to that. That's what happened to Aleida Jeppeson. She's the top geneticist in the world and the leader in cloning technologies. She turned them down and was arrested on the spot."
"How do you know that?"
"I saw it happen. She was my friend's neighbor and we watched the whole thing. It wasn't pretty."
Sean didn't know how to respond to that. It had never occurred to him that he never had a choice. Viggo smiled as the silence lengthened, watching Sean struggle to process that information. "You're a good man, Sean Bean. Stop beating yourself up about it. Besides, if you weren't here who would I have to talk to?" Viggo sunk down and sat cross-legged on the floor. "And who would steal food for me?"
"That's not theft, just another form of distribution," Sean replied, moving to sit across from Viggo, his back propped against the wall.
"I really lucked out landing on the food ship. I saw how much work you put in to get everything going. Wished I could have helped."
"Most of it was in place, just needed a little finessing. I did have to cobble some things together."
"Why are you the only person who manages all of it? And food distribution?"
"Other than harvesting and putting the rations together, it only takes one. I volunteered to oversee distribution and storage."
"Why?"
"The main food stores are here. Keeps people out of my hair most of the time. Besides, if only one man's needed to maintain food production and organize its distribution it frees up other people for duties elsewhere."
"I've always wondered why they don't serve everything cafeteria style, make large portions for everyone on board. Wouldn't that save on stocks?"
"I suggested it when we first set out but they claim there aren't facilities for it onboard."
"That seems ... unlikely. Cate says some of the VIPs on her ship were allowed to bring animals on board, in a couple of instances horses; that's space right there."
"Cate?"
"The woman I mentioned before, who snuck on board to find food."
"And she's seen these animals?"
Viggo nodded. "She says none of them are faring well and they never miss a meal."
"I have nothing against animals but you and the others should take precedence. At the very least we could use some of that space for food service."
"You wouldn't even need much room. People don't have to eat in the same place, just pick up the food from there. A field kitchen only needs minimal set up, with enough counter space for service."
"Do you have experience with that?"
"Some."
Sean was getting used to Viggo's tendency to talk down his abilities and knowledge and decided that in fact he probably knew a great deal.
"Can you cook, too?"
"If you're suggesting I could..."
"It'd be a great thing to throw out there when we finally tell the others there are stowaways aboard. If a few more of you could help maybe they'd see the practical benefits to having you here and not just the ethical ones."
"And then you'd have an excuse to see me every day," Viggo teased but his eyes were deadly serious. "We'd have to work together pretty closely, I'd imagine."
Sean felt himself blush, a slight tinge to his cheeks. "I suppose we would."
Viggo held Sean's eyes for a second more, than pushed up onto his feet. "I really should get a move on."
"Right," Sean replied, slowly standing up. "I wondered if, ehm, maybe you could come again tomorrow. Just for a few minutes."
"Sure, we've probably been overly cautious anyway." Viggo paused for a moment, as if he wanted to say or do something but was unsure whether he should. Finally he simply ducked his head slightly and smiled, turning toward the door. Sean put out his hand to stop him, then quickly looked outside to make sure the coast was clear. As Viggo headed back for the hatch, he stopped and looked back toward Sean.
"Can I grab another of those grapes before I go?"
Sean smiled broadly. "You must have quite the sweet tooth," he said, walking toward the table where the grapes were being grown. "I've been looking at these to possibly be a sugar substitute." He plucked two grapes from the vine and handed them to Viggo. "I don't know how you can eat them straight."
Viggo popped one in his mouth and gave Sean a wide, toothy grin. "Better than candy," he laughed.
Sean pulled out the sandwich he'd made that morning, a few of the sweet grapes that Viggo loved and what was left of his daily allotment of water and sat down to wait for Viggo. They hadn't actually shared a meal before and he was a little unsure of Viggo's reaction. It'd be easy to explain it away if Viggo wasn't keen on the idea, simply say he forgot to eat lunch or he planned to eat it for dinner. But he was less sure how well he'd be able to hide the disappointment in his face.
In no time he heard the metal scrape of the hatch, but then the much louder clang of the main door sliding open startled him. Heavy footsteps echoed across the room and Sean tried to push down his panic. Clearly no one had noticed the hatch or seen anything out of the ordinary; they were heading straight for the office and it would be better to get them all inside so Viggo would be able to leave without being seen. The next moment Captain Ashcroft and two of the security detail walked through the door, and Sean felt his anxiety rising again. He stood to greet them.
"Captain. What can I do for you?"
"I need to relieve you of duty, Mr. Bean, effective immediately, and place you under house arrest."
Despite his concern over Viggo almost being caught and the obvious seriousness of the situation, Sean couldn't help finding the notion of his being put into custody completely absurd. It's not that he saw himself as above the law, but there was no denying they were dependent on him. Whatever they thought he had done, outside of murder or something on that scale, he knew they couldn't afford to levy too steep a punishment.
"Under what grounds," he demanded.
"Theft. We have proof you've been stealing food."
Sean wasn't completely surprised. He'd been taking bigger risks as the days went on, trying to do everything possible to get as much food as he could to Viggo and the others. But he'd also been covering his tracks and coming up with explanations and cover stories for almost everything he'd done. He was fairly confident he could talk his way out of any trouble, although it would mean they'd be keeping a much closer eye on him and that would translate to an inability to get Viggo the extra food. But he and Viggo would come up with something. Now it was imperative that he get over this first hurdle and that meant hearing the full extent of the charges.
"And what proof is that?"
"You needn't worry about receiving a fair hearing. All the evidence will be presented and you'll have an opportunity to respond."
"And by the time I've answered these ridiculous charges the crops will have suffered, some irreversibly, and you would be responsible for our not harvesting what we need to continue feeding the entire fleet. Forgive me for being blunt, but that's a load of bollocks. You're going to tell me who's made this accusation and what proof they have right now."
Ashcroft looked like he was about to explode. "Security!"
"No! Please don't."
Sean's gut clenched at the raspy voice from the doorway; he'd hoped Viggo had left. His coming forward to try and help was very much in character but it was the last thing Sean wanted.
"Who the hell are you?!" Ashcroft demanded.
"I'm the person who's been stealing the food."
"No, he's not," Sean interjected.
"Yes, I am."
"Who are you?!" Ashcroft roared.
"My name is Viggo Mortensen. I managed to sneak on board the ship before take-off and I've been living in the mechanical shafts ever since."
"A stowaway."
"Yes. And I've been taking the food."
"I gave him the food," Sean jumped in. "Supplies for him and seven others on this ship, six more on the Explorer." Sean caught the angry look Viggo shot him, understanding he hadn't intended to tell the captain about the others. But Sean also knew it would be too easy to write off one thieving stowaway. Several would be much more difficult. If they were going to get all of them integrated into the general population now was the time. He looked at Viggo, hoping to convey enough confidence that Viggo would trust his judgment, then continued.
"For a while now I've been reducing the amounts distributed in the weekly rations, and giving the leftovers along with a couple of complete packs to Viggo to distribute to the others. It made no sense for them to starve, and now it makes no sense for them to remain hidden."
"Keeping them hidden was the last thing I planned to do. I intend to arrest them."
"What good would that do?!"
"C'mon man, we're already here!"
Sean and Viggo shouted over each other in utter disbelief, and Sean noticed a slight reaction from the guard closest to the door, a small chink in her facade of indifference. Arresting someone stealing food was one thing; arresting people just trying to live was something else altogether. Sean stepped beside Viggo and continued the argument.
"You and I both know that whatever amount of punishment is devised for their supposed crime, it wouldn't be life in prison."
"At some point," Viggo continued, "we're going to be released and be part of the general population anyway."
"Why not just make that happen now..."
"Instead of after we've become bitter and angry and turned into actual criminals and not just people looking for a way to survive."
Ashcroft looked irritated at this tag team approach, but also a little amused. "How do you propose we feed them?" he asked, looking pointedly at Sean.
"We'd have to feed them in the brig anyway," the guard, their silent ally, jumped in.
"Did I give the impression I was talking to you, Officer?" Ashcroft growled.
"The same way we feed everyone else," Sean interjected quickly. "Food isn't a problem."
"And house them?"
"A few more beds in the bunk rooms aren't going to make any difference. More permanent solutions can wait."
"If we had found them when we were still within range of the last space station," Ashcroft mused, almost to himself, we could have left them there."
"Where there really would be a shortage of food and sleeping quarters." Sean was growing more and more frustrated. The captain's stubbornness and short-sightedness was beyond belief and getting on his last nerve.
"Look, I appreciate what you were trying to do here, Sean. I can even understand why you didn't come forward when you discovered them, I can. But it's really not up to either of us. We were given orders about how to handle stowaways; any change would have to come from the fleet command."
"But in the meantime," the guard added, speaking quickly and clearly, "we don't have to treat them as prisoners. We can set up some temporary quarters for them, let them come out from whatever hole they've been living in."
Ashcroft glared at the security officer but Sean was glad to see she didn't shrink under the examination. If anything she made a small, barely perceptible step forward, closing the ranks with Viggo and Sean. The captain sighed, rubbed his hand across his face, and Sean could see that they were winning.
"Honestly, Captain, I can't believe we're even having this conversation. We're housing and feeding horses and other animals just because their owners are rich and supposedly important people. How can you justify not doing the same for a few people just because they weren't on the official rosters?"
"I'm sorry; what?"
Sean thought Ashcroft looked genuinely surprised. "One of the stowaways onboard the Explorer has seen animals being kept on that ship, being fed and cared for with supplies intended for human passengers."
The captain looked at Viggo who nodded. "It's true. She and the others onboard are hiding very near where two horses are being kept."
"I wouldn't be surprised if whoever figured out the food allotments were short came from that ship; I've reduced their amounts more than the others knowing where some of those rations were going."
"And we always allocated an extra portion of supplies for making bread," Ashcroft murmured, slowly walking away from them. "Bread, it must be said, that never seemed to materialize in significant quantities to distribute to the other ships. Shit." He turned around, looking angrier than he had before.
"There were long discussions about whether we should bring animals. For food, yes, but also just as a kind of Noah's Ark thing, to preserve some of the species from the planet. And they decided it would be too costly and difficult, no guarantee we'd find a place with suitable land, the logistics of separating natural predators from their prey, the uncertainty of whether they'd even survive extended space travel. And then some mealy-mouthed, spineless wonder lets some people bring their pets aboard."
Ashcroft paced back and forth across the small space, gesticulating and muttering to himself as he thought things through. Then he turned and pinned Sean and Viggo with a hard stare. "We're going to need proof. If I'm going to confront fleet command I want more than the word of two stowaways in my pocket."
"If we could get Cate a recording device I'm sure she could get you the proof," Viggo replied.
"And we have to work out some kind of plan for locating and settling everyone, along with revised food distribution protocols and estimates on how long the current stores will last."
"We actually have some ideas about that," Sean added.
"I knew you were going to say something like that." He turned to the guards. "The two of you are dismissed. Return to your posts." As soon as they left the room, he motioned for Viggo to shut the door then sat down heavily in Sean's chair. "Both of you need to understand something. Fleet command has already put together protocols for dealing with stowaways. And if their presence is deemed a risk to the continued survival of the approved passengers we are fully authorized to implement a termination order."
Sean and Viggo both gaped at him, unable to imagine that the worst case scenario they had discarded almost immediately might actually be on the table.
"Before you jump down my throat," Ashcroft continued, "I'm not about to let that happen, even if it means keeping all of them unofficially on this ship. I believe you, Sean, when you say we have enough food, and what's the point of killing people when the whole point of this operation is to save them. I just wanted you both to know the full extent of what we're dealing with, ok? Ok. Let's talk."
Sean never had too much respect for the captain before, but after the three of them talked for nearly an hour he came to see that despite being more than a little stubborn, Ashcroft could be a reasonable man. Things moved quickly after that, and Sean knew Viggo wouldn't be happy with the rushed and insensitive methods the fleet employed to root everyone out from hiding and quarantine them in medical for a week. It caused a lot of undue stress and conflict when it could have been handled quietly and calmly with just a little more planning. But in the end they found 73 stowaways aboard the entire fleet, most in ill health, and they were all systematically being integrated into the general population.
The whole process had been too fast for Sean, as well. He wasn't involved, which was only logical given his job in the fleet, but it meant the minute Viggo walked out the door with the captain he'd, in essence, walked out of Sean's life. They hadn't been able to see or even speak to each other, and Sean only knew he and the others were all right through official reports and the occasional request for fresh medicinal plants from the main fleet hospital.
He hadn't realized how much he'd grown attached to Viggo until he wasn't there, and he wondered if Viggo was having similar feelings. But still being completely unsure, Sean chose to stay silent and keep his distance. Viggo was getting on with his life on board one of the other ships and Sean needed to do the same. He went about his duties as usual, but he missed all the secretive extra work he used to do when he was supplying food to the stowaways. He almost felt as if he had too much time on his hands, like there were no challenges to make the day interesting. But more than anything, he realized this sensation of idleness was more of a sense of loss, of missing the regular company that his partnership with Viggo provided.
A couple of weeks passed and Sean was preparing for the first harvest. The crew who put together the rations would be helping, and they'd recruited a few additional people so the process would be completed as quickly as possible. Sean finished work on the new storage bays for the fresh crop, a little tired from the recent extra work and slightly cranky that equipment he'd requested had still not been delivered, when he walked into his office and found a man sitting at his desk. When he turned around and Sean saw his eyes, he realized at once it was Viggo. All of the hair that had covered his face was gone; instead he was clean shaven with almost a buzz cut where once had been a mass of salt and pepper hair. He'd put on a few pounds and looked strong and healthy, and he wore a fresh change of clothes and standard issue work boots.
Sean stood for a moment frozen in place, stunned into silence. His mind alternated between being too full with unspoken words and completely empty. Then Viggo got to his feet and Sean saw the shift from hopefulness to sadness and disappointment in his eyes, and Sean's own doubt and fear seemed to lessen, replaced by the certainty in the importance of this moment. Even then all he could manage was a hoarse exclamation: "Viggo." But it was enough to put a small spark back in Viggo's eyes.
"Wasn't sure you'd recognize me."
"I can finally see your face."
"Not too nightmarish, I hope."
Sean wanted to say how handsome he found him, how even when he was at his scruffiest he didn't think he'd ever been so attracted to someone. Instead he just smiled and laughed. "I think I'll live."
He finally found his feet and walked further into the room, his hand awkwardly extended, the other shifting nervously at his side. "It's good to see you."
Viggo sensed his indecision and made the choice for Sean, holding out his arms and wrapping Sean in a warm hug. Sean held Viggo tightly as if he was trying to absorb him through his skin, tried to memorize the feel of him in case this was the last time he'd ever be this close.
They pulled apart and Sean was almost certain he saw the same affection, an identical desire in Viggo's eyes before he stepped back and shifted his gaze to the floor.
"I volunteered to help with the harvest," he said, walking past Sean toward the entrance.
"Oh." Sean didn't try to hide the disappointment in his voice.
Viggo closed the office door and turned to face Sean. "But I would have come anyway."
"Yeah?"
"It finally occurred to me that they wouldn't think to tell you where I was and that you might be too embarrassed to ask."
"I don't get embarrassed."
"Shy then. You strike me as a very private person."
Sean smirked. "That I am."
"So I decided I should stop waiting for you to send me a message or give me a call. Even though you wouldn't have to involve anyone else, just log in to the computer system and look up my name. Unless of course you'd forgotten my name."
"All right, all right," Sean laughed. "I'm sorry. And I'd have to be dim not to remember your name."
Viggo looked at him pointedly, cocking his head as if he was trying to coax the words from Sean, but the look of amusement in his eyes belied the annoyed expression. Sean forced a serious expression on his face as he slowly walked over to Viggo, practically invading his space.
"Your name is Viggo Mortensen," he said in a very somber tone, and when Viggo responded with a broad smile he raised his hand and nudged Viggo's chin with his fingers, sliding his thumb down the cleft. "And I couldn't forget you no matter how much I tried to convince myself you'd rather be left alone."
Viggo's eyes darkened, the smile sliding from his face, and they stood and stared into each other for countless moments before the console beeped loudly, startling them. Sean cleared his throat and walked over to the device, scrolling through the message he'd just received.
"The captain thinks I need to be reminded of our meeting this afternoon," he scowled, "as if I've ever forgotten once since coming on board."
"I bet there's some kind of regulation that requires him to do that before every meeting."
"I wouldn't be surprised."
The room fell uncomfortably silent, and Sean felt restless, as if standing still was causing him actual physical pain. He watched Viggo fidget and shift his stance before rubbing a hand across his face.
"Ask me what I've been doing," Viggo said.
"What have you been doing?"
"I've been stationed on the flagship, helping to integrate the stowaways to regular ship life."
"That's great. You're really suited for that."
"And I've been bending the fleet commander's ear. Almost have him convinced we should stop doling out ration packs and serve group meals instead."
"How'd you manage that?"
"Funny how being charming is a lot more effective than being surly toward people."
"I'm not surly."
"How quickly you forget, Sean. Remember, I'm the one who used to listen to you interacting with the crew. I always half expected you to start throwing punches."
"Am I that bad?"
"I was shocked the first time I found a package of rations just laying out because you didn't seem the type to have done that by accident, and I couldn't figure out why a bastard like you would be deliberately helping me."
Sean couldn't help laughing. "And I thought at first you might be dumb or greedy when you kept taking more."
"I was really lucky to end up on this ship."
"You and the others, yeah. I'm amazed all the rest managed to stay alive for all that time."
"No, I mean, yes it was fortunate to be near the food, but what I meant was I was lucky to find myself on the same ship as you."
Sean felt his cheeks begin to flush and he looked down at the floor. "What are we doing, Viggo?"
This time it was Viggo who invaded Sean's space, waiting until Sean lifted his eyes. "We're learning where friendship can lead."
"And the possibilities are endless."
"Absolutely. But right now you have a meeting to go to and I was supposed to check in with one of your flunkies when I arrived so... why don't you invite me to dinner tonight."
"Ok. There's more room here than in my quarters."
"I don't need a lot of room, do you?"
Sean thought he could live off that half-smile and the matching gleam in Viggo's eyes. "I'm on Deck C, Bunk 30."
"In three hours?" When Sean nodded, Viggo started to leave then paused with his hand on the door. "There's this saying about beating on the moon to make all your wishes come true. How many moons do you think we've passed, Sean? I think I've been banging on all of them." He flashed a broad and vibrant smile then walked out of the room.
When I was a kid I used to tell myself the moon was a silver gong and if I could climb high enough to beat on it with both hands all my wishes would come true. - John Dos Passos