Three quiet moments on the Resolute. Three chances to reflect on what is, what was, and what could be.

Part Three: Tup & Dogma
Stars

"There. Do you see it?"

"No, I don't. Where are you pointing?"

"There, right there. A little left of straight up."

"Your left or my left?"

"We're facing the same wa–– Dogma you're not even looking!"

"Tup I have to finish smoothing this before I lose too much light. I promised the Captain I'd have it done today."

"At least look at the first star with me. Come on."

Dogma sighed and set down his tools on the rough-edged boards of the deck. He straightened, slowly stretching the stiff muscles of his back and shoulders. The setting sun cast his shadow long across the bow. A salt breeze, chilled by the onset of evening, blew over the gunwales and brushed past his face.

He turned to face his cousin. Tup leaned against the bow, neck craned back, searching the sky for stars. The breeze had tugged a few strands of Tup's hair from its knot, and they fluttered against his face. He glanced back as Dogma stepped forward, then turned his attention back to the heavens.

"You should fix your hair if you're on watch," Dogma said, leaning on his elbows next to Tup. "It's untidy."

Tup rolled his eyes, but a smile quirked the corners of his mouth. "We're not in the navy anymore, Dogma."

Dogma huffed at the emphasis on his nickname.

"And I'm not on watch anyway," Tup continued, still looking overhead. "I just wanted to see the stars."

Dogma glanced at Tup. In the fading light, the lines on Tup's face looked softer. He hadn't had those lines three years ago.

He followed Tup's gaze to the sky, searching for the star Tup had seen. There it was, a little left of straight up, a pinprick of white against the darkening blue. Dogma wondered which one it was. Without other stars, it was still too early to tell. Back home he would have known right away. Or Tup would have. It was always a game: find the first star, yell out its constellation, wait for others to appear to confirm you were right. They had played that game since they were children. Dogma wondered at times if things would have been different if he'd had siblings of his own. Would he still have played the star game? Would it have been something else? But Tup was the closest he had to a brother, and wondering didn't change anything, and they had their game.

Or, they used to have their game. So far from home, all the stars seemed so different, so out of place. And with the war, there didn't seem to be much point in stargazing, not when there was work to be done. Always smoothing and reshaping and resealing and replacing. But that was why he was there, wasn't it? The NoR had needed good carpenters. And he had convinced Tup to come with him, because how could he be without Tup? And now here they were, oceans away from the familiar, and––

"Will we ever go home?"

Dogma blinked. He wondered briefly if his own voice had betrayed his thoughts, until he heard Tup sigh. He turned to Tup, who still gazed wistfully overhead.

"I mean," Tup continued, "I know the war is important, but when it's done…"

"We'd have to get transport," Dogma said automatically. "And even if we found a ship big enough to hold all the supplies for that long of a journey, then we'd need a crew to sail it. And all of those ships are gone anyway; we helped dismantle them after they shipped us to the front, remember?"

A look of sadness flickered over Tup's face. Dogma felt his gut twist. That look hadn't been there three years ago either. So much had changed since they joined the war, but it had happened so subtly that Dogma only noticed it in the rare moments like this, when things were still, when tasks were done. That's when the thoughts came, tumbling through his head, wondering about home, wondering if he made the right decision, wondering if Tup secretly hated him for bringing him out here…

"If you're not on watch, you should help me finish smoothing the deck," Dogma said. "It'll go faster."

"Why do you always have to be doing something?"

"I just…need something to keep my mind occupied."

Tup smiled a rueful smile. "I know the feeling."

They lapsed into silence, leaning over the gunwale. As they watched, another star appeared. Then another.

"Oh!" Tup suddenly exclaimed. "It's The Strill!"

Dogma followed the line of stars with his eyes. Sure enough, the arch of shimmering dots traced the beginning of a snout. Another star appeared, marking the eye. Tup didn't usually need three stars to identify their favorite childhood constellation. But of course, it was in the wrong place in the sky. Reminding him just how far from childhood they'd come.

"I wonder if my baby sister knows The Strill yet," Tup said softly. His face fell again.

"Tup she's four," Dogma replied. "She can't even read yet."

"She'll be four," Tup corrected. He paused. His gaze drifted out of focus. "She wasn't even a year old when we left…"

Dogma reached out his arm. For a moment, he hesitated, then he draped it over Tup's shoulders. "Hey. You'll get home. You'll see your family again."

Despite the sentiment, Dogma felt his gut twist again. Tup wanted to go home. To his family. Of course.

A hand snaked around Dogma's waist, and he tensed slightly. But it was only Tup, scooting closer to Dogma's side.

"You're my family too," Tup said. He turned away from the skies to give Dogma a fond smile. "You're my brother."

Dogma tried to swallow the lump that suddenly formed in his throat. He returned the smile softly and gave Tup's shoulder a squeeze. His mind struggled to find the words that he felt like he needed to say, but nothing came.

Tup laid his head on Dogma's shoulder briefly. "I'm glad you're here," came Tup's quiet murmur, before he picked his head up to look at the stars once more.

Dogma closed his eyes and fought the lump in his throat again.

"Me too," he whispered.