Forge wasn't entirely sure he'd made the right decision.

Nothing had gone wrong yet. Nothing that should logically make him worry, anyway. They were even starting to settle into a kind of routine. Rotating around the small ship, becoming familiar with one anothers' patterns, presences, and comfort zones. He was already well used to Mortimer scooting around, bare webbed feet flapping softly against the metal floor, quickly adapting to life in the cramped spaces and dim lights. Maybe the amphibian in him found it comforting. And Forge found that comforting. Blasting away from that bar and never looking back was one of the best decisions they'd ever made.

But now, he thought he might have made one of the worst.

"Now, the way I see it," Long fingers waved through the air, coming to rest at an illuminated point on the navigation map. "If we just keep to this heading a smidge longer, we can skirt the Demilitarized Zone, and avoid any prying eyes or sticky fingers, mmm?"

"Yeah!" Mortimer piped up, unaccustomed enthusiasm making Forge look over from his own station in the back of the tiny room that passed for a bridge. "We really don't wanna end up stuck there – right?" He glanced up at the taller copilot, yellow eyes wide and seeking approval.

"Oh, quite right you are." Preedex Yoa tapped a key and the map went dark. He leaned back in the chair that clearly hadn't been designed for Akrennian anatomy, but his flowing limbs were flexible enough to fit into the mold. "Federation officers have no sense of humor, believe you me."

"Hey," Forge said, and they both turned around to look at him. "I thought we were heading toward New Beijing."

"Oh, this sector's about tapped out, I should think!" Preed said breezily, turning back around to look at the main display. "We'll find much better pickings a ways off. Someplace nobody knows our names, hmm?"

"Sure..." Forge said slowly. "But I figured we could just stop by New Beijing, see what word on the street is. Something interesting's gotta be going down somewhere around here."

"Preed says he heard about this – it's a self-sealing stem bolt shortage, right?" Again, Mortimer spoke eagerly, and his buggy yellow eyes flicked up for confirmation.

"That's right. Hereabouts, anyway. Do you know how valuable those precious little things can get during a dry period?" Preed made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a self-satisfied little harrumph. "But past the Demilitarized Zone, they can't give them away fast enough. See where I'm heading with this?"

"Yeah," Forge looked doubtful. "Uh... you know we don't have the cash to buy these things, no matter how cheap they are."

"My dear boy, I don't recall saying anything about buying. You did say that our activities would be, ah, less than law-abiding?"

"Yeah." Forge said, looking down as he felt his face flush. Preed had a way of making him feel stupid or insignificant, though he never said anything directly. Whether it was unconscious or intentional on the Akrennian's part, or even all in his own head, Forge was feeling it more and more. "So we're going that far out of our way, based on a rumor."

"Not just a rumor," Preed said, but was only half-listening. He turned his head so his good ear faced the metal covering the guts of the ship, and leaned down. "Greener pastures, isn't that what humans say? Reading the currents of commerce, and..." he squinted, cupping his ear against the bulkhead. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Mort held very still, but heard nothing. Then he leaned forward and pressed his own ear against the metal, while Forge stared. He actually blinked, unsure if he was really seeing the both of them listening to the ship, like it was a sick pet or something.

"It sounds... I don't know. Off. The engine usually hums at a pitch like hmmmmm, but now it's more like hhhhhm!"

Forge couldn't help it, he pressed his ear against the wall. No matter how surreal, he had to listen too. "You can hear that?"

"Akrennian ears are the stuff of modern legend," Preed said, lifting his head from the metal and flicking the ragged cartilage and skin. "Even with only one of them."

God only knew what had happened to Preed's other ear. Same thing that put the metal plate in his head, Forge guessed. Preed never mentioned it, and Forge never asked. He had his own mechanized arm and leg, and his own reasons for keeping quiet.

"Wow!" Mort gasped, staring at Preed with the open-faced admiration that made Forge realize he was grinding his teeth. "Oh, man. That is so cool."

"Why, thank you." Preed smiled, all sharpened canines and alien face wrinkles. "It's common knowledge, you know. Can't keep a secret from an Akrennian, these things pick up everything."

"You really hear something weird?" Forge frowned, standing up straight again. "I just did a whole inventory of all systems, everything was fine, but." But something might be wrong with his ship. And just that thought made him feel like twitching, the very idea made him want run back to the claustrophobic engine room right now and tear the place inside-out again. "Maybe I should take another look."

"Yes, that sounds like an absolutely stellar idea."

"Okay." But Forge didn't move; he looked over at Mortimer. "You good here for a while?"

"Huh?" Mort looked from Preed to Forge, as if seeing him for the first time. "Oh! Yeah, we're good! Great!"

"Great." Forge mumbled. "I'll... I'll just go do that." Neither of them heard him trail off lamely. They'd both turned back around, talking about something he obviously wasn't included in. Forge jammed his hands into pockets and glared at the floor as he slumped off the bridge.

"So, how do you know all this cool stuff, about – you know, how ships sound, and self-sealing stem bolts?"

Preed gave a deep-throated chuckle, and shook his head. "Ahh, my young friend, ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies." A languid smile like a sleepy crocodile, and he looked up. "Well, I certainly didn't expect to be running with another human, and a... where did you say you were from, Mortimer?"

"Uh." Mort gulped, toad-in-the-headlights. "It's, uh. It's out there. You've probably never been there."

"Oh, I don't know. I've seen a veritable plethora of different faces and species around this wondrous galaxy of ours – but don't remember ever seeing anyone quite like you before." Mort was used to hearing that, but it usually wasn't meant as a compliment. But Preed was smiling, his voice warm and smooth, and Mort couldn't help but feel okay about being... unique. "And – 'Mortimer,' that's a human name, isn't it? Even Toads are delightful little creatures from Earth. Sadly extinct, but. That's where they came from, isn't it?"

"It... I, um." Mort gave a nervous little giggle. "Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no – no lies?"

Preed stared at him for a moment – then threw his head back and broke into a raucous laugh, throwing an arm around Mort's bony shoulders. "Why, you precocious little sprout, you darling enigma! You're simply a Toad after my own heart, aren't you?"

Mort couldn't quite answer. His mind had screeched to a halt, and all that came out of his mouth were giggly little sputtering sounds that definitely were not English, or any discernible language. He couldn't remember if he'd ever blushed in his life – cold-blooded amphibians didn't do that much – but there was definitely a rushing in his ears, and a lightness in his head. His brain spun in the strange embrace, and he awkwardly tried to return it – but Preed had already slipped away.

"Oh, I understand perfectly. We all have our secrets, the universal skeletons in the closet..." His copper eyes flicked down for a moment – but the dark look was so fleeting that when the smile returned a moment later, Mort wasn't sure he'd seen anything at all. "Tell me – how well do you know this ship?"

"Huh?" Mort blinked, disarmed by the sudden subject change. "The ship? Uh, not all that well, I guess. It's Forge's, and he mostly takes care of it and knows all the ins and outs and stuff, like he's actually part of it. Or it's part of him. I just fly it."

"Ahh. Then you haven't really had fun with it, or seen what it can do?"

"Not really."

"Well, then. What say we kick this rattle-trap up a few gears, and take it for a real spin?"

"What?" Mort stared at him. "Just like – go nuts with it?"

"Indeed! How can you know all your options if you don't know your limits?"

"I dunno. I should really ask Forge before I start messing around."

"Oh, don't worry your sweet little head about that," Preed waved away Mort's concerns with long, thin fingers. "He's elbow-deep in the thing's bowels anyway, he'll be right there to fix it if something goes wrong! And in the very worst-case scenario, I'll be here to take the blame."

Mortimer eyed him carefully, looking for any hint of malice or guile. He wasn't sure this was the best idea – he'd always liked ships and finding out how they worked, how they flew. But this one wasn't his, and he didn't know it as well as...

But he was also a 'precocious sprout' and a 'darling enigma,' and Preed was right here in case something happened. He could handle this.

"Okay," Mortimer slowly smiled back. He turned off the autopilot, and took the controls into his own hands. "Let's go for a ride."

"That's it," Preed said quietly, standing up and stepping behind the helmsman's chair. "It's all right to deviate from the course, we can come back to it any time. Just pick up some more speed..."

Mort felt something on his shoulders; he glanced down to see two brown, thin-fingered hands resting on them. Preed's hands followed their course, unconsciously moving left and right, as if 'steering' Mortimer along with the ship.

And Mortimer let himself play. Little turns, little spins, corkscrews and loops, going nowhere, accomplishing nothing but fun, soaring in parabolas with no up or down or sideways, everything was possible in space, the vacuum was a blank slate. Until-

"Faster." Preed gave his shoulders a little squeeze.

"The hull can't take much more stress, we're pushing it as it is."

"It can take it. Just keep steadily increasing the speed. I want to show you something."

Mort urged the engines on and chased the display gauges into the red-marked warning areas, and lights on the console started to flash. The floor vibrated under Mort's bare feet, he could feel the metal and plastic surfaces of the controls humming through his fingertips, and the small ship shook all around them so hard he was afraid they might fall apart completely.

"We're going too fast!"

"Punch the overdrive!"

"What?"

"Kick it into overdrive, now!" Preed's grip tightened on his shoulders again. "It'll be all right – trust me!"

Mort took a deep breath – and switched gears.

The ship quaked, the whining and awful grinding of the metal and engine's clamor hurt his ears; Mort squeezed his eyes shut and just had time to think we're dead, we're dead, I killed us, we're dead -

Then it was silent.

And he was floating.

His feet left the floor, and he opened his eyes in shock. He felt himself lift from his seat and hover above it, slipping easily up into the air. His dreadlocks lifted from his shoulders and drifted like sleepy snakes around his head in a halo.

The ship was quiet, engines running easy and hushed, no longer shaking or grinding. Everything was smooth, soft, they'd pushed past the turbulence and into some kind of sweet spot. Mortimer still clung to the manual controls, and Preed's hands were still on his shoulder. But the Akrennian's boots were off the ground too, and he chuckled deep in his throat.

"Don't worry," Preed murmured in his ear, as if reading his thoughts. "This is normal. Better than normal. When you're ready, slip us back into normal drive."

Mort hesitated, floating for just a few more seconds. Now that he was used to it, he didn't really want it to end. He'd spent his entire life on space stations and drifter colonies, had only gray, vague memories of Earth and natural gravity... but he couldn't remember ever feeling weightless, literally floating, free. He let the wonderful feeling stretch on for the space of a deep breath – then brought the ship out of overdrive.

A brief moment of shakes and noise, and they dropped into normal space, normal operation, and mundanity. Preed's feet hit the floor and Mort dropped back into his seat, head spinning, dizzy, he still felt like he was floating.

"Ohmigawd... That was so cool! I don't even – wow!" Mortimer gasped, still staring at the brightly-lit console, hardly believing what he'd just been able to do. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"Oh, I picked that up from a human friend a long, long time ago. The overdrive, you see, on a ship this size it takes more power than the engine's got to engage it – so the afterburn diverts power from non-essential systems. Gravity's usually the first thing to go."

"Huh. Wow." Mortimer shook his head, metal tips of his dreadlocks clicking together. He was suddenly exhausted, drained from the rush of adrenaline and excitement. "Still can't even believe I did that."

"It's amazing, what you can do once you step outside your comfort zone."

"Yeah." Mort reset the autopilot and stood up, stretching his wiry limbs. "Well, I should really go check on Forge, make sure everything's cool. Especially if the whole ship lost gravity just now."

"Yes, of course." Preed waved over his shoulder as Mort stepped around the front seats to the door at the back of the cabin. "I'll hold down the fort here. You just relax for a while, have a rest. That was a big step for you, wasn't it?"

"Yeah." Mort was smiling so widely his cheeks hurt, still riding the crest of the lingering high. "Thanks for showing me how."

"Oh, think nothing of it!" Preed smiled back, and Mort didn't find the expression on an alien face quite as unsettling as he had before. "It was most entertaining for me too. You're a natural at the helm, my dear, verdant friend. You did very, very well."

"Thanks." Mortimer looked down, dreads hiding all of his face except a flash of pointed teeth. "I just – thanks." He turned and shuffled out the doorway, leaving Preed alone in the cabin behind him.

# # #

A/N: This madness was requested by a dear friend - and luckily, I enjoy writing Fortimer as much as she enjoys reading it. I realize that Preed's been uncharacteristically nice here... which is how he always is when he wants something. (I was so tempted to put this in the 'horror' section... it's always horrifying when he tries to be charming. Or seduce an unsuspecting teenager.) Stay tuned to find out what's on his twisty little brain. I guarantee more dysfunction and upfuckery to follow.