“I won’t come today to the casino.”

“What? Got scared of losing actual money?”

“I just don’t want to play cards.”

Paolo’s day started well and then it went downhill from there. He spent the morning in Petra’s cabin; this time they didn’t talk about anything not related to sex and it was great. Then, during his shift, something started tripping the cockpit pressurisation alarm every ten minutes for no reason. An engineer was dispatched to open one of the stations and was now noisily crawling inside the starboard wall, cursing to himself. And then Richard sent this utterly ridiculous message.

Paolo was angry. He tapped his foot under the station table and tried to come up with something snappy to reply with. Who did this little shit think he was? ‘Don’t want to’ sounded like the most childish excuse ever. Has someone said something stupid to him? There had to be a way to pull this info out of him. Paolo had to fight the urge to reply something mean. If this was in person, he would’ve probably already said it.

But of course, this wasn’t enough, and a few minutes later, the doors to the cockpit opened and Nikolai walked in.

It’s been a week since Bagathon, and the captain looked much better. His eyes were clear, his face wasn’t constantly red, and he didn’t wear his breathing aid anymore. Whatever the station doctors did, they knew what they were doing. Seriously, Hopestar needed better medical personnel than an old psychiatrist and a re-taught nurse.

Everyone except for Māhoe at the subspace station looked up to see who came in. Nikolai greeted them, obviously touched by the warm reactions around the cockpit. Gil, the Software Monitor, even got up to shake the captain’s hand and chatted with him about the latest major patch for a couple of minutes. 

Paolo tried to move as little as possible and acted as if he was busy on his stationary interface. He wasn’t, of course, they didn’t need to do any course corrections until the Second Shift. This didn’t help. As Gil returned to his place, Nikolai silently turned around and stepped up on the podium where the First Pilot’s station sat. He leaned back on the handrail beside the pilot’s chair and stayed like this for a bit.

Paolo did his best to stare right ahead and focus on the interface, not seeing anything. Nikolai didn’t like having eye contact, but Paolo could still feel him staring at the side of his head. Don’t look. Just don’t.

Fuck.

He looked sideways and immediately regretted it. And everything he’s ever done leading to this moment in time. Nikolai was sitting there with a sad smile, clearly trying not to let his lips quiver.

Fucking fucker of a fuck.

“What?” Paolo said as evenly as he could. He still sounded grumpy.

Nikolai perked up slightly and took a breath. “I’d like to talk.”

“We can talk when I am not at work.”

“You’ve been actively avoiding me for the past two weeks. I felt like I had no other choice but to come here.”

A nasty wave of sickness was rising in Paolo’s chest and he had to assign most of his willpower to fight it. Nobody else was looking at them, and the stations were well removed from one another to hold private conversations. Māhoe was the closest but he was focused on the subspace readings and listening to music through his hearing aid. Still, Paolo didn’t want to have this conversation. Not now, not after work, not ever in his life.

“We don’t have anything to talk about.”

“I think we do. I think it is very important.”

It was crucial not to raise their voices. Paolo could hear his teeth grinding as he tried to manage the sickness and come up with a good enough excuse to get out of this situation. “I understood Hoffman’s position. I’m not stupid. My opinion doesn’t matter so I’ll let you have fun laughing at me behind my back or whatever else you choose to do in your boring operational meetings.”

Nikolai sighed and looked away, taking a moment to gather himself. “Robert was a bit too harsh with his phrasing. You and him are very similar in this way.”

Paolo turned to properly glare at the captain. “And yet, his opinion is right and mine is wrong?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“So, you don’t agree with him?”

“I think you are both wrong. About each other.”

Paolo leaned back in his chair with a soft ‘ha’ even though what he really wanted to do was to kick something. “So what, you came here to ask me to apologise to him?”

“No, I don’t think it’s you who should apologise. But I do think you should try and look at this situation from his perspective.” Nikolai bit his lower lip, unsure about his next words. “The captain's responsibilities include finding middle ground between lots of people. And you’ve been known to be… very antagonistic.”

“And Hoffman always acts reasonable.”

“He is not a captain.”

Paolo snorted. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? He is always right and those who disagree with him are stupid.”

Nikolai shook his head. “Those who disagree have a right to be heard. Without being talked over. I think Rober should have phrased his criticism more delicately.”

“But you agree with the criticism?”

“Paolo.”

“What do you fucking want from me?” He couldn’t help but raise his voice. This was pointless and only made both of them feel worse. “I am not going to pretend to be someone Hoffman can tolerate. I don’t give a fuck what he thinks about me or my fashion choices or whatever else annoys him so much! You say I am not the one who should apologise, but it’s been two weeks and I haven’t seen an attempt from him to say a single thing to me. Did he not get the same moralising ‘conversation’?”

“He did.”

“But?”

“But he is my husband.”

And like this, all Paolo’s emotions focused into a single white ray of rage. He leaned forward, locking his eyes with Nikolai, and hissed: “And I am fucking noone. That’s clear as day. So how about we stop this stupidity and let each other do our jobs without pretending there’s anything but professional interaction. Leave me the fuck alone and good luck on finding a candidate to be the captain who Hoffman will actually accept. Be it Haasan, or Seidel, or whoever else! I. Don’t. Care.”

As he stared into Nikolai’s eyes, now full of tears, part of him wondered if maybe this was a bit too far. Then, the pressurisation alarm tripped again followed by loud cursing from inside the wall. Paolo reached to mute it. Nikolai startled at the loud noise and pressed the hands to his eyes, trying to rub the tears away. There was stirring among the crew; they probably heard at least bits of the conversation and tried very hard to pretend they didn’t.

As it got quieter again, Nikolai took a shaky breath and nodded several times. “Okay. Alright. If this is what you want.” He rubbed his face in faked frustration. He was almost never angry but rather regularly upset over the smallest of things. This wasn’t ‘small’ but still. “I just want you to know that if you change your mind, I am here and ready to listen. You know how to reach me. And my doors are always open.”

With this, he stepped down from the platform and walked out of the cockpit in a commendable attempt at walking-at-a-normal-pace-and-definitely-not-running-away. Silence fell over the room, broken only by the shuffling of the engineer. Gil turned around to throw a fakely casual glance at the First Pilot.

“Shut up.” Paolo barked, loud enough to make everyone jump in their seats and the engineer to stop doing whatever he was doing inside the wall. “If anyone dares to say anything not work-related, I’m initiating a full diagnostic and you will be doing it again and again until you meet the time requirements!”

Nobody tried looking at him after that.

It took Paolo another half an hour to get hold of his emotions. There were messages on the cockpit board but he didn’t look at them yet. Instead, he swiped on his forearm interface and opened the last message. His fingers steady, his face determined, he typed: “What DO you want to do then?”

Paolo got out of the cockpit later than usual because he made everyone hand in their shift in the most detailed way possible, leaving the second shift very baffled. He hoped they would choke on all the gossip they would definitely engage in the moment he was out of the door. He didn’t care if the first shift hated him now, it was nothing new. None of it came close to the shit he had to deal with.

He stepped out of the cockpit elevator and hurried down the Second deck corridor, past the captain’s office and to the central lift pods. He needed something to knock him out and he was running low on tabs. It would be some time before they got out of SOI space where he could buy more. But alcohol would do. Perhaps, the media theatre again if it’s empty. Or the restaurant on the Sixth deck if there was a steward who believed the rumours too much and could be intimidated into parting with a capsule.

The pod’s doors opened, and Paolo only had a fraction of a second to realise there was a person in it, because the next moment he got shoved back into the wall so hard he hit his head on it with a loud thunk. But it didn’t phase him for too long. He could clearly hear the voice of his combat instructor yelling in his ear: “EVERY SECOND YOU THINK ABOUT WHAT’S GOING ON IS ONE MORE SECOND IN WHICH YOU CAN DIE!” So he didn’t think. He grabbed the hand of the attacker, which was squeezing the front of his shirt, determined it was too strong to push away, and instead aimed a kick at the man’s ankle. 

The yelp and the stream of curses that followed confirmed this was Hoffman. He let go of Paolo’s shirt and jumped back on one foot, then looked at the pilot with such fury it had to be enough to burn a hole in something softer than a human. Then he was close and personal again, but this time Paolo had his instincts under control and didn’t fight.

“Who do you think you are, bastard?!”

“You attacked me. You got what you asked for.” Paolo spat back with a smirk. Adrenaline was still pumping in his blood and it was an amazing feeling. Despite the hint of pain from the back of his skull, he found this exciting.

“You should be thankful I didn’t open with the multitool to your fucking temple, you piece of shit! I don’t care what your issues are, you will not undo the progress Kolya had with his health just because you can’t shut your hole and swallow your pride and for once in your life act like a decent human being and not a personification of spite who somehow grew out a pair of legs and a dick!”

Paolo could hear doors being opened down the corridor. How many crew members would be witnessing this? What could he get away with and not let Hoffman have the last word? Knocking him out would not be hard: the man was large but not trained. Then again, how long has it been since Paolo had any kind of decent training? He was sure he could still choke Hoffman out or at least break his leg.

Wow, that would not be a thing Nikolay could forgive.

He didn’t have time to decide on the course of action, because the sound of running echoed through the corridor, and Seidel yelled: “Robert, what are you doing?!”

Petra pulled the Chief Engineer away from the First Pilot and wedged herself between them. “Stop! Whatever happened between you two, I expect you to explain to me once you’ve calmed down! Preferably, in writing.” Then she leaned close to him and hissed: “Robert, get yourself together, the crew are watching!”

Paolo slid past them, didn’t waste the chance to flip Hoffman an obscene gesture, and stepped into the still open lift pod. He hit the button and let the doors close on Petra saying: “Wait a sec-”

Restaurant it was.