Inner Discord, ch 03 (Patreon)

Alex woke, but didn’t move.

Never giving away he was aware of his surroundings had been one of the early lessons Tristan had taught. Assess, decide, act.

Motion in the room, near silent, moving away from the bed. Tristan rolling to get out of it had been what woke him. There had been an attempt at not disturbing him. A concession to Alex needing more rest after the sex they shared.

That Alex was awake and aware didn’t mean he was in a state to remain so without adrenaline to fuel him.

* * * * *

Alex woke, but didn’t move.

He was alone in the room. The vibration hadn’t changed from when he and Tristan had gone to bed. The ship was unmoving in an ignored point in space. There were a lot of those, considering how vast the universe was.

Exiting the secret lab had been as simple as making their way to the hangar bay, disposing of any opposition, taking one of the ships and leaving. There had been maneuvering while Alex made sure the ship’s computer was his. Then, some more to confuse anyone attempting to work out their destination before going under cryo.

He’d come out of that while they were in approach to where Tristan had hidden this ship before the job. They’d taken the ship he’d left here that had been readied a long time ago for just the kind of job this had been, and he wasn’t staying on board the stolen one any longer than needed.

Once Tristan was done with the job of curing Alex, or, as far as Alex was concerned. Once his Samalian realized he was fine, they might return here, and if the ship hadn’t been found, they’d see about making it something of use. Now they drifted while Tristan went over the data he’d obtained from Alex’s old torturer. 

Alex didn’t care about that. The man had paid, if there was justice, was still stuck in the machines all these objective months, possibly years, later, suffering.

He got up. The large bedroom’s bed had been removed and replaced with the mat they slept on, but the rest had been left in place, if repurposed. The dresser contained more weapons than clothes, the cabinets more medical supplies and spare ship components than the type of outdoor equipment the intended user might keep there instead.

This had started its life aimed at a wealthy family looking to travel to less civilized planets and experience living it rough. Or at least some rich folks’ version of it. The ship had had an impressive sensor suite and defensive weapons already mounted on it.

After his shower, Alex headed to the large eating area, passing the office Tristan was seated in, reading on his datapad. Books were stacked on the desk, as well as one open before him. They all had age to them, many Alex recognized from the collection Tristan had built on Samalia. There were others. Three stops on the way to be ready for the job had been to gather more, all old.

Alex made food. Using the time to consider this other change in Tristan. 

Alex couldn’t remember him even looking at physical book unless they were part of a mask needed for a job. If he needed information, there was the network for it.

Granted, the network had little of worth when it came to learning about alien cultures, his research on the Defender, and then exposure to Samalian beliefs had demonstrated that, but whatever Tristan thought afflicted Alex had to be something covered by actual science.

The furred arms wrapped around his chest, and the muzzle pressed against his neck, breathing in. “You smell good,” Tristan rumbles.

Alex chuckles. “I can feel how much you like it.” He shuddered at the neck nibbling.

“Love Alex, not like, love.”

“Now I think I know why the cooking area is equipped with a field cryo system.”

“It’s to ensure the food doesn’t spoil in transit.”

“No, I’m sure it’s in case one of the passenger gets unreasonable horny.” The last word stretched as Tristan licked his ear.

“I am never unreasonable.”

“I can turn the field on and pick that up later,” Alex offered.

“Maybe I can pick you up later,” Tristan whispered, “and carry you back to bed. Right now, what you are making also smells quite good.”

“In that case, you’re going to want to let me finish preparing it.”

“I can help,” Tristan whispered.

“You know what.” Alex stepped away from the counter, activating the field. “Let’s take care of that hunger of yours, before your help ruins yet more of my cooking.”

* * * * *

Alex rested against Tristan, head on his chest, listening to his breathing and the almost perceptible rumble he’d learned to identify as a show of contentment on the Samalian’s part. Alex wasn’t sure Tristan was aware he did it. Or rather, since the Samalian was aware of everything, that it was something he chose not to exert control over.

“That was delicious,” Tristan said and Alex couldn’t help the snort. The food was still within the field, waiting to be finalized. 

They hadn’t made it to the bed. As soon as Alex had offered himself, Tristan had been ready to consume him. And Alex had been appreciative of the warm floor for more than walking barefoot on them.

“How are you feeling?” Tristan asked, and Alex couldn’t stop the momentary tension. Tristan didn’t react, even though he had noticed. His Samalian noticed everything.

This wasn’t about the job, Alex told himself. It was about how he’d just been used and abused.

“I’m good,” he replied, then, because unlike Tristan, control wasn’t something Alex was a master at, he asked. “Anything of use in the data we collected?”

Tristan didn’t tense. Control again. Or maybe it wasn’t a subject he considered sensitive. Alex was the job, so anything relating to that would be fine to discuss.

“I don’t know. None of the reports he wrote are about what it extracted, so I am unsure how to interpret that information.”

“What did he write about?”

“How you reacted to the ‘treatment’. Which of the extracted memories correspond to which of your reactions. There’s a few places where he wonders if his machine can also extract imagined memories, and a few designs. He was meticulous in documenting the changes to the designs.”

“So nothing about my…condition.” He was careful not to let the tone turn dismissive.

“I don’t know. He didn’t write anything relating to that, so the memories will have to be analyzed, and that isn’t something I trained to do.”

“You can learn,” Alex said. A fact and a chance to go home while that happened. As good as Tristan was. It couldn’t be something mastered in a few weeks.

“I don’t like how long that would take. It’s best if I hire an expert in this case.”

Alex nodded. It was the practical thing to do, from Tristan’s point of view. “So long as it’s not that doctor from Arjolis, I’m not sure she’ll be happy to see me again after I removed any evidence we were there.” While not bothering removing the indications coercion had been done from there.

He didn’t care Tristan had paid her to analyze him. Alex had needed to lash out.

She might not have been questioned; after all, Alex wasn’t in the habit of leaving evidence within the system he coerced. But then again, he had been pissed and in a hurry. He could have missed something.

But it wasn’t his problem.

It was hers.