a/n: Book tag: "Starship: Pirate" by Mike Resnick. Includes: Vladimir Sokolov & Esteban Morales

~From the moment Vladimir Sokolov laid eyes on Esteban Morales, he knew that something didn't quite fit and he'll be damned if he doesn't figure it out~

A Secret Discovered

—

From the first moment that Vladimir Sokolov made eye contact with the former pirate Esteban Morales, the Lieutenant knew that something wasn't quite right. It wasn't that there was something in the kid's eyes that said the-next-chance-I-get-I'm-gonna-take-a-utensil-acquired-during- the-last-mess-hall-meal-to-the-Captain's-neck look. No, it wasn't that—nothing so vicious. But the kid was hiding something, and Vladimir didn't like that at all.

Of course that was all the blond had to go on, he did pass Colonel Blacksmith's security check. But it was twisting his gut so bad, that fighting it was no use. So every moment that the Teddy R wasn't in crises, he was off shift, and wasn't sleeping, he spent his time indirectly observing Morales.

He hadn't the faintest idea what it was about the kid. Was it the way he looked? Spoke? Moved? Acted around others? Whatever it was, it was so subtle that no one else seemed to notice, except for him that was.

And one Standard night, he discovered what it was about Esteban Morales that bothered—by complete accident.

Vladimir trailed behind the intoxicated Morales through the corridor lined with the crews' quarters, when he saw red.

"Oh my God!" He exclaimed, stopping in his tracks.

Morales spun around with a surprised gasp, not having noticed Vladimir until now. "What?!"

Vladimir wasn't looking Esteban in the eyes, instead his blue gaze was focused lower.

Brows furrowed, cheeks flushed with alcohol, Esteban followed his gaze, and that was when he saw it, red—blood—spreading between his legs. His head snapped up and he stared at Vladimir in frozen horror—not pain.

Vladimir shook himself out of his shock, and his brain kicked into gear. "Are you okay?" he demanded, rushing over to Esteban, his hand reaching out.

Esteban jerked from his touch, suddenly in motion. "I'm fine!" he turned and bolted, fear flooding his big eyes.

Vladimir stared at his retreating back, and then his feet were pounding the floor as he pursued the kid. "Hey!"

But Esteban didn't stop, until he skidded to a halt outside his cabin, and trust his hand onto the palm-scanner. Things would have gone quicker had the kid not panicked, but he kept glancing back at Vladimir, and the door couldn't get a scan of his retina. So when the door did finally iris open, and he ran through, Vladimir was able to catch up, and dived through before the thing sliced him in half.

Panting lightly, Vladimir climbed to his feet, and looked around the small room and found Esteban at the far end, breath heaving and pressed against the wall as if he could disappear through it.

"Get out!" Esteban Morales screamed at him. "Get out of my room!"

Vladimir held up his hands placating. "I'm not gonna hurt you, I just want to see if you're all right."

"I already told you I was fine. Now get out!" he cried.

"You're bleeding," Vladimir pointed out, glancing at the blood that covered the material between his legs.

Esteban tried to shield the blood with his hands, which were clearly shaking. "I said it was fine!" he said firmly, though his cheeks were wet and fear rang in his voice.

"We need to get you to the infirmary." said Vladimir.

"Why won't you listen to me?" he begged.

"Because you're covered in blood and don't seem to care."

"It happens all the time, now go away." Esteban told him.

Vladimir stopped. "What?"

Esteban tensed as Vladimir's gaze pierced him. There it was, that secret, the one that was wriggling around in his mind.

"Please, just leave me alone."

"That's not gonna happen." He growled.

Anger flared in Esteban's eyes. "It's none of your business!" And before Vladimir could try and stop him, he yanked open the door to the toilet and locked himself in.

The officer pounded on it. "Open this door!"

"Get out!" Esteban shouted back.

Vladimir tried yanking the door open, but the lock held fast. It opened outward, so he knew there was no use trying to kick it in—and anyways, even if it didn't, if he tried he could seriously injure the kid. He sighed and backed away, arms crossed over his chest as he glared at the door.

"Fine." He growled suddenly. "Have it your way, bleed to death for all I care!" He stomped to the door and it irised to let him back out, but he didn't follow through and instead quietly stepped to the side, and after a moment it closed again. Breathing shallowly, he crept back to the toilet beside the door, and waited, and when Esteban finally came out, he would grab the kid and drag him all the way to the infirmary.

There was a bunch of shuffling inside and then about five minutes later, he heard the lock unclick, and the door was slowly opened. When Esteban peeked out, Vladimir made his move.

He grabbed the slim wrist of the hand holding the door and tugged. Not prepared, Esteban let out a yell and made a nose dive to the floor. He flailed, trying to catch himself, or at least cushion the fall. But the man who put him in that position in the first place, saved him from it.

Still holding the kid's arm, Vladimir twisting him around, and held him captive in a bear hug. Esteban struggled like a cornered animal, but Vladimir held him firm—he kept a hold of his wrist, the other trapped between their stomachs, the kids curses and yells muffled in the crook of his shoulder, and a wiry but solid arm locking their bodies together.

"Just calm down and I'll letcha go," Vladimir said.

"Fuck you!" came Esteban muffled voice. "Let go of me, you pig!"

Vladimir just rolled his eyes and held firm; Esteban would tire himself out with useless struggle and then could talk proper about why he didn't seem to care about the blood he was leaking. But Esteban writhing in his grasp, trying to knee him in his most sensitive area, but not quite reaching. Now that Vladimir thought about, at first glance the kid seemed tall, next him the kid was a few inches off, but standing next to Cole he was nearly the same height—huh.

Vladimir sighed, he really wished that they could hash this out while he was sitting, by the end of it he knew that his thighs were gonna be bruised to high heaven. He thought about a lot of things as Esteban started to finally tire in his struggles; like the fact that he hadn't eaten in a while, and the going to have to visit a toilet in a bit. But there was something odd going on between them, he could feel it rubbing against him chest.

Finally Esteban stopped struggle, shoulders slumped.

"Ya done?" inquired Vladimir.

"Screw you," he puffed against his shoulder in defeat.

Vladimir pushed him away, but kept a firm grip on his narrow shoulders. He looked the kid up and down, his eyes were downcast, filled with fear and shadowed with defeat. Did he have an illness that he didn't want anybody to find out about or something? But all Vladimir could do was focus on the kids chest; it was bulkier under the kids tee shirt than he would have expected, but something about it seemed odd. Without much thought, he took a hand from the shoulder and lifted the hem of his shirt.

Esteban let out a yelp, shoved his hands away, the shirt falling back into place as he leapt back, forced to sit when his calves hid the edge of his bed, trapped. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" he demanded, arms crossed protectively over his chest.

But Vladimir couldn't answer, he was in shock as he stared at Esteban, his mouth open. It was only a flash, but it was clear—Esteban's chest was bound in cloth strips... but why?"

His eyes widened even further as he looked at Esteban. "You're a girl?!" he exclaimed.

Esteban sneered silently up at him.

Vladimir took a couple of deep breaths, once he got his mind straightened, he looked at Esteban with a new eye. The big eyes, and long lashes, nothing but blond peach fuzz, full lips, unruly close-cropped hair, narrow shoulders, small hands, narrow waist, wide hips, short for a guy—tall for a girl.

And now, even though she was wearing men's clothing, had short hair, and her breasts pinned down, he wondered how he could have mistaken her for a man.

"But why?" he asked in confusion, finally.

Her lips were pursed tightly as she glared up at him. "I told you to leave it alone."

"Come on," he said, "I know now, there's no point in trying to deny it."

She glared up at him for a while longer before she sighed heavily and everything seemed to leave her. Her shoulder slumped, she said, "You can't tell anyone,"

"Why not?" he said in confusion. "You're a girl, so what?"

"I turned myself into a boy so I could survive!" she shouted at him.

He simply blinked in reaction to her outburst. "Survive what?"

"You've hardly been out here for year, you have no idea what it's like in the Inner Frontier!" She jumped to her feet and started to pace in front of him. "Do you know what happens to girls born to poor families when there's no solid laws, when everything has a blurred line. So like everyone else, I looked out for number one. I changed my whole identity!" Tears started to brim her eyes as she spilled everything, "I had to get out, so I joined Windsail's crew as a newly minted boy." Tears ran down her cheeks. "I stole, and I killed people, and I survived—I became a man!"

Vladimir had been watching her silently, but he couldn't hold back any more. He stepped into her path, and grasped her shoulder, gentle but firm, forcing her to stop. She looked up at him through tears as he gazed down at her. "You survived," he agreed softly. "But you're no longer with Windsail any more, you don't have to hide who you really are."

Esteban sniffed and her tears came to a stop, her cheeks still wet. "That doesn't matter,"

"What your name?"

She chuckled derisively as she palmed the tears from her cheeks. "You already know my name, Mr. Sokolov, it's Esteban Morales."

Vladimir shook his head. "Your real name,"

"That is my real name, and this is who I really am—I am an eighteen year old boy, former pirate, knew crewmember of the Theodore Roosevelt under the command of Captain Wilson Cole." She shrugged out from under he hands and stepped back.

Vladimir stared at her. "You can't just—"

"Just what?" She questioned, her arms crossed over her chest. "You can't go around telling the crew I'm a woman, no one will believe you. And the only way to prove it would be to forcibly strip me down—and Wilson Cole wouldn't allow it even if he did suspect... I'm not committing any crimes or breaking any rules."

He was dumbfounded. "You're not in danger anymore!" he protested.

She looked him straight in the eye. "This doesn't concern you, Mr. Sokolov. And you have no right to spread around my personal business. Now, if you'll please leave... It seems I cut myself."

Vladimir looked at her for a long moment, as if pained. And when he next exhaled, the will left him. "If that's what you want... Esteban." He finally spoke, "I'll keep your secret." After one last look at her, he turned to the door and as it opened, he said, "But you are safe here," he stepped out and it closed behind him. "I'll make sure of it." He swore to himself.

He trailed back to his own quarters, that were actually on the same floor as Esteban's. He laid heavily on his bed, suddenly tired. He groaned. He now knew her secret and he wasn't sure whether he was better off for it or not—He guessed he'd fine out soon enough.

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