★彡[ᴘʟᴀꜱᴛɪᴄ ᴛᴏʏꜱ]彡★

☾☉☉☉☽

What if Caju doesn’t?

Caju has never wanted to follow a single command that came from Pandora or Titan, but there was an obligation to at least obey the orders that mattered. There was the foreboding threat that if he didn’t listen, they would ban him from Cosmos Administration, and by extension, space. Now, though, who cares? There was no threat! Cosmos Administration was collapsing, anyways—Pandora and Titan had nothing on him! He didn’t have to do anything! Fuck them!

He hates Pandora and he hates Titan and he hates Earth. He hates the heat. He hates dogs. He hates being treated like a girl. The list of things he hates is a black hole, inescapable. Sao is not exempt. Saturn is not exempt—in fact, Saturn is now high on that list!

Caju does not care about whatever Saturn’s plan is. Caju does not care that Saturn did not invite him to come along. He does, however, care that Saturn didn’t bother to give him a warning or a farewell. Caju knows his own worth, knows that he deserves a place in Saturn’s memory. How dare Saturn try to forget about him? To discard him like that?

He wants to put Saturn in his place!

“Fine,” he spits out. Pandora’s face turns all smug, and he regrets his decision for a second, but he brushes that feeling aside. He wants to do this. He wants to fight Saturn.

He’s fought Saturn before—numerous times—but that was for “I want to play” and “please look at me”. He wants a serious battle this time, no holding back!

Caju has no idea what the Kraken Mare is like because the Kraken Mare was Sao’s, and Sao wouldn’t pilot it, so Caju had never seen it in action. He knows the Kraken Mare is supposed to be impossible; like none of the ships that came before it. Regardless, Caju’s still confident he can win!

His own ship is pretty powerful, after all!

Like the night sky, the Ursa Major was a pitch black emphasized by splotches of white: the two rectangular visors on its face, its feet, and its hands shone brightly like stars. It was a bulky mecha whose silhouette—particularly its head—resembled that of a bear. It was not a bear, though; it was something worse. A monster much larger and much stronger.

He can’t wait to pit it against Saturn!

Caju rises, inspecting Cupid, who offers no resistance or objections to Pandora’s demands. “Tell Sao to come back soon,” Caju says to him.

“I will,” Cupid swears.

“I said,” Pandora cuts in, “to get to it.”

So, they set off.

 ✦✧✩✧✦

“Why are you here?” Titan asks without looking up, shuffling through papers, clicking a pen. He sits at the far end of his office, behind his rounded desk. The room is dreary: the walls are gray and are lined with stuffed filing cabinets. The ceiling fan struggles to fulfill another rotation, barely alive.

Caju stands in front of Titan’s desk. There are a few chairs in the center of the room but he doesn’t want to sit down. He doesn’t want to feel small.

“I wanna be an Ace Pilot,” Caju says, as if that answers the question.

Titan makes a noise, like he’s been expecting this conversation and is already sick of it.

“I should be an Ace Pilot. But I’m not. Why is that?” Caju stands up straighter, stands up taller.

Ace Pilots are the poster boys of Cosmos Administration. They have to be the best at what they do and they have to be someone Earth can root for. Those are the rules. (But rules are meant to be broken; Sao and Saturn are Aces, but neither meets both requirements).

“You, an Ace Pilot?” Titan scoffs. “Look at yourself. Look at the bruises and bandages all over your body. Look at your scars. You’re constantly bleeding or making someone else bleed. Why would we make you an Ace Pilot when you can’t behave yourself?”

“But Saturn is just as bad as me!” Caju bursts out like a child.

“Saturn,” Titan says, “is an exception.” He moves, organizing some of the papers into filing cabinet drawers. “Besides, Saturn isn’t the one playing dress up.”

“I’m not playing dress up either,” Caju retorts. “I’m not a girl pretending. I really am a boy.”

“Sure,” Titan replies. “Do you think telling me that will make me change my mind? You won’t become an Ace Pilot.” Titan ushers Caju out. “Be realistic.” 

✦✧✩✧✦

It’s supermassive.

Olympus Mons is astounding: twice the height of Mount Everest, Caju is nothing but a speck beside it, even within the Ursa Major. Caju isn’t thinking about Olympus Mons, though—why should he care about Mars’ extinct volcano? No, the supermassive thing he has his gaze on (even through all the clouds of dust he’d kicked up) was the Kraken Mare.

It was a space giant compared to his ship.

This’ll be fun! Saturn thinks—and maybe Caju does as well.

“I knew you’d come eventually!” Saturn says. Or I was at least hoping you would. Seated on the red-brown surface of Mars, the Kraken Mare looms far above the Ursa Major, far above everything except Olympus Mons. “I’ve been pretty bored! Can you fare better than everyone else? You have to, okay? For me.”

“I don’t care that you’re bored. I didn’t come to entertain you,” Caju responds. “Actually, I’m super mad! I’m right here in front of you and you won’t say sorry?” The Ursa Major stalks forward, barely visible through the curtains of dust.

“You’re mad at me?” Saturn questions. “Is it because you feel abandoned? You shouldn’t! I knew we’d meet again. And here we are, together, just as planned!” Saturn watches the Ursa Major creep closer. The Kraken Mare does not move. “I’m sorry, though.”

Caju takes a few moments to consider.

“I forgive you,” Caju decides. “But I still wanna beat you!”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Saturn says. “’Cause I wanna beat you, too!”

The Ursa Major pounces and sinks its silvery claws into the Kraken Mare’s forearm. For a moment, Saturn is not invincible, and the untouchable ship is suddenly touchable. It trembles slightly, red-orange sparks flying. Saturn can hear and feel the crackle of electricity surging through the Kraken Mare’s body—it hurts so bad he has to blink back tears.

“God, what was that trick?” Saturn groans. Maybe it was a bad idea to let Caju have the first hit. “Whatever. My turn now!”

The Kraken Mare swats at the Ursa Major, which flings away and tumbles like a rag doll, crashing into the side of Olympus Mons. The Kraken Mare strolls after it. There will be an indent, but otherwise, the volcano and the ship will be fine; the Ursa Major rises, unsteady, but not broken.

Caju’s breath is knocked out of him, and he wants to scream in agony, but that pain is imaginary: just a side effect from linking with the mecha, from having a second body that isn’t truly his own. He’s okay, he’s not actually injured, and even if he was, Caju wouldn’t give up that fast. He won’t let Saturn get the winning hit.

As Caju regains his footing, Saturn thinks about how, from his perspective, the Ursa Major looks like a plastic toy. That’s all this is: a fight with plastic toys, action figures being flung at each other until one stops getting back up.

The Ursa Major takes a step back, creates a running start, and bolts at the Kraken Mare. Saturn attempts to dodge, but to his shock, the Ursa Major recalibrates, swift enough to change course and land a jab. Twinkling claws cause another electrical flood and the Kraken Mare careens backwards.

“Hey, watch where you’re shoving me!” Saturn complains. “I don’t wanna destroy anything.”

A Mars Colony exists, but it’s located elsewhere. Here, on and around Olympus Mons, there is a fraction of Cosmos Administration’s research facilities, plus the occasional dormitory.  

Caju grits his teeth as the Ursa Major backhands the Kraken Mare’s horse-like face with enough force to break off two of its fingers, which descend to Mars’ surface, stirring more dust into the air. Kraken Mare stumbles back once more, crushing a building beneath its impossible weight.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s all destroyed,” Caju points out. “No one’s gonna use ‘em.”

“I will!”

The Ursa Major tests its hand, which will not open or close, malfunctioning due to its missing fingers. This gave the Kraken Mare a chance to recover, a chance to approach without being stopped.

Taking the Ursa Major’s other hand, the Kraken Mare pulls and tugs until there is a terrible snapping sound. The wrist detaches and the Kraken Mare lets go. Both boys watch the hand plummet down. Saturn is exhilarated. Caju is bloodthirsty.

In a flash of black, white, and silver, the Ursa Major slashes. A third surge of electricity flows through the Kraken Mare. It’s violent and thunderous—the Kraken Mare’s chest cracks like a porcelain doll. The metallic body does not break, but Saturn is bombarded by the mecha’s alert system, alarms beeping to signify the damage that was done.

“I’m basically at the same level as you,” Caju says. “Yet you’re an Ace and I’m not—it pisses me off. Why are they allowed to play favorites?” It’d never been confirmed, but a lot of people agreed that Saturn remained an Ace Pilot solely because of his relation to auntie Pandora.

“Maybe they’re not playing favorites,” Saturn teases. He didn’t know if those rumors were true either. “Maybe you’re just not as good as you think you are.”

“Open your cockpit.”

“Huh? Why?”

“So you can say it to my face.”

Saturn listens (for once in his life) and the Kraken Mare’s cockpit opens. The Ursa Major comes closer. For now, there is a mutual trust: no sudden movements, no throwing the other back into a fight. It’s an unspoken truce.

Inside the Kraken Mare, it is clean and pristine. There are no exposed circuits and there are no cobwebs. It smelled fresh. New.

“Hi.” Saturn is there to greet Caju, choosing to leave his controls, which is maybe a bit dumb, but he isn’t inclined to worry about that. “You’re shit—”

Caju wraps his arms around Saturn’s neck and presses their lips together.

A battle between plastic toys is soon replaced by a battle of tongues. Caju stops caring about forcing Saturn back to Earth (which he never cared that much about anyways—it was nothing more than an excuse). Saturn stops caring about his war to stay in space (which he’ll remember as soon as Caju gives him more than a second to breathe).

For now, Saturn is the victor of their forgotten toy fight. And Caju doesn’t mind.

Because somewhere nearby, the Ursa Major’s severed hand twitches.

Next time, I’ll return the favor.