Chapter 21: Body Language

When Gary finally staggered into the galley the following day in search of coffee, everyone, including Chuckie, was around the table eating that staple food that marked all higher civilizations: waffles. In this case, the waffles were covered in a sweet orange syrup reminiscent of apples that Nightfall had discovered in the market. Add on some spicy street meat and fresh coffee, and the galley smelled like heaven on a plate.

"Heeeeey, Gary!" exclaimed KVN, moving to hug him. "I wrote you a new song! Sun is shining! / KVN's here! / You're not dying! / Have no fear!"

Gary shoved the robot away hard enough to send him sailing out the door before it closed. "I told you not to touch Avocato's stuff!" snapped Gary, now including himself in that tally.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in!" exclaimed Little Cato, clearly having saved the line for the perfect moment.

"What's a cat?" asked his father, rising. Looking sharp and well rested and immaculate in his uniform, Avocato moved to stand directly in front of Gary to block his path. Nightfall tensed, ready to act if Avocato was about to challenge Gary in any way, but the look of wide-eyed amazement on Little Cat's face stopped her.

For a long moment, Avocato gazed at the blond squarely, his expression composed, before he slowly closed his eyes and inclined his head in a slight bow. Then he reached back to where he'd been seated and picked up his coffee mug, handing it over to Gary.

At the table, Little Cato was rendered speechless and gaping by these tiny gestures. Ash and Fox and Nightfall watched with intense interest as the younger Ventrexian almost exploded with delight. As vital as non-verbal communication was to Ventrexians, Gary knew that whatever had just happened was at least 112% super-important and, judging by his kid's lip-biting excitement, extremely intimate. Not wanting to spoil whatever the heck was going on, Gary took the mug in both hands, looked Avocato in the eye and said, "Thank you."

He answered with another bow, accompanied by a hint of deference that almost did Little Cato in and somehow made Gary's heart speed up to warp 10. Stepping aside, Avocato gestured gracefully, asking, "Breakfast?"

"Love some," Gary smiled, feeling the heat rise to his face and knowing that whatever had just happened, it was a good thing.

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"Ash, have you seen Little Cato?"

"He was helping Nightfall in the engine room, I think."

"Thanks. I like the new hair clip, too," Gary added, jerking his chin toward the black filigree barrette she had acquired.

Instantly self-conscious, Ash reached up and covered the touch of bling with her hand. "Oh. You noticed. I got it in the market. You . . . you like it?" she confirmed.

"Yeah. The black looks nice on your pink hair. Good choice." He smiled and waved, leaving her to revel in the small compliment.

He found his son in engineering, helping Nightfall to stow some tools and equipment, and stood back to watch for a few moments. Little Cato was almost bouncing, so good was his mood, and his enthusiasm was keeping Nightfall well amused. Catching sight of Gary, she said,

"The new lightfold coil should be here tomorrow night. I've got the spool stripped down to hold it. Once we get it installed and calibrated, we'll be able to leave whenever we get the general on his way."

Good news, but that brought them to the second part of their dilemma. Gary made a face. "Guess we gotta give some thought as to how we're going to get back."

"Incinerators always have interrogators on board," volunteered Little Cato, wiping his hands on a rag. "Maybe my dad can have them question the Scoti to find out how they control temporal worms."

Gary blinked. "That's . . . not a bad idea."

"Do you want the Lord Commander to have that knowledge?" demanded Nightfall.

Gary shrugged. "He might have had it anyway, and if it'll get us home, I'm okay with that. Besides, he's gone and his empire is self-destructing. We just need to get back close to when we were and catch up with my mom."

"That's if they send an Incinerator, too," added Nightfall, still in devil's advocate mode.

Little Cato grinned. "Nightfall, don't forget who they're picking up. I'm betting Nikos will show up with at least half the fleet."

Gary and Nightfall exchanged a look over his head. Half the Tera Con fleet was still enough ships to destroy a planet.

"When the coil gets here, it may be an all hands call to get it installed. I'll let you know."

Gary latched onto the change of subject gratefully. Gesturing with both hands, he laughed and said, "I'm there for you."

"Me too," added Little Cato, then added in a stage whisper, "seeing as how I'm stuck here and all."

Gary locked his arm around the teenager's head, pulling him in close. "Yeah, but you're stuck here with me, Spider Cat! That's a privilege!" He planted a kiss atop Little Cato's fuzzy head and said, "Let's go track down your younger old man and teach him how to play rummy."

They had spent a good chunk of the morning enjoying some family bonding as they introduced Avocato to cards, desperate for anything to distract him from his dark mood and get him talking and engaged. Cards and a different system of numerals required a lot of focus, and they gave him no choice but to learn. Little Cato started by laying a full deck out and explaining the colors, suits, and face cards much the same way Gary had explained them to him. Avocato had a little difficulty telling the face cards apart until Little Cato wrote him up a cheat sheet in Ventrexian script. HUE had joined them and they settled down to a game of go fish that pitted Ventrexia against Earth, with Ventrexia's combined forces winning handily, but not without a respectable fight.

"You're on!" exclaimed Little Cato, laughing.

As soon as the door to the engineering room closed behind them, Gary slowed his steps and gestured his son close.

"Okay, spill," he ordered. "What the heck happened at breakfast?"

It was evident he'd been waiting all morning for this little chat. Almost wriggling with delight, Little Cato said, "Well, keeping in mind I wasn't raised on Ventrexia, so I'm not as savvy in Ventrexian body language as a native . . . I guess you'd say none-speaker -"

"Okay, chance blown, Spider Cat!" Gary got him in a for real headlock and playfully noogied the teen right on top of his head. "Talk! Or you'll get worse!"

Little Cato was giggling furiously, enjoying every moment of the so-called torture. He was out of breath and his crest of stiff blue hair was mussed by the time he was released, and he collapsed against the wall to regard his adopted father. Gary was . . . happy. It was a quiet display of emotion, a content satisfaction that Little Cato had never before seen in his dad as he leaned against the opposite wall and waited for an explanation.

"That was . . . a lot of things all at once," he said, reliving the interaction in his head. "Gotta remember Ventrexians say a lot without speaking, and it says a lot that he'd communicate this way with a non-Ventrexian."

"Why's that?"

"It means he's got enough confidence that you'll understand what he's saying, or he's so crazy over you he doesn't care and he's going to say it anyway."

"Huh." Gary frowned, but couldn't decide which scenario was more likely, or which he liked more. Both had their appeal. "What do you think?"

"I think . . . I think he knows you'll get his meaning. The gist of it, anyways. That's a lot of trust for him to give so soon, so . . . he might be a little crazy for you, too."

"Hmm. Guess I made a good impression."

"He was thanking you for something, but thanking you in a way only someone super close to him would get . . . like . . . husband- or wife-close. I remember me and Mom doing stuff like that. You know, where you don't really want or need words to tell a person . . . tell them how much . . . how much you appreciate and . . . and lo-"

He broke off, realizing so many things at once that it looked as if a physical blow had landed. He stared at Gary, emotions and understanding coming in a mad rush that was written across his expression.

"Spider Cat . . . ?" whispered Gary, instantly concerned at this change. Sudden mood swings were nothing unusual in Little Cato, but Gary knew instantly that this level of distress had nothing to with being fourteen and everything to do with past trauma.

"He – he never said it, but he's been saying it all along, hasn't he?" he squeaked out. Suddenly drawing a full breath was a challenge for Little Cato and he slid down the wall to crumble into a little pile on the floor. He hung his head, trying to curl in upon himself. "I never - I didn't - He . . . he . . . "

Gary scrambled across the corridor and dropped to the floor, draping his arm around Little Cato's shoulders. He had a good idea of what this was about. It had been a long time coming.

"He does love you," promised Gary softly. He pulled Little Cato in close. "More than anything. We both do."

"I wish . . . I wish I could have believed that all those years," was the whispered reply.

His heart breaking anew, knowing he could never fully appreciate the agony of being alone and lonely for sixty long years, Gary bent his head next to Little Cato's and held on tightly, waiting for it. A faint whine reached his ears, followed by trembling as his son gave in and grieved all that had been lost and all the time wasted over the course of his two lifetimes.

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Not quite an hour later, Gary roused from a nearly-asleep stupor at the sound of someone moving down the hall towards them. He registered knee-high boots and the long, khaki coat a moment before Avocato, doing nothing to hide his concern, softly asked, "What happened?"

Gary said nothing, well aware of what a light sleeper Little Cato was. Instead he pointed at Avocato, then at the spot on the floor next to him. Without another word, Avocato gathered his coat around him and sat right next to Gary, as directed. Shifting a bit to relieve the weight in his arms, then pulling his knees up and angling himself to lean against Avocato, Gary met his friend's worried eyes with a little smile of reassurance. Avocato frowned slightly, then nodded, trusting Gary. The general then turned all his attention to Little Cato, asleep on Gary's chest, traces of tears evident on his face. Gary gazed at Avocato, whose eyes and expression were so anxious, and wondered how Little Cato could not see what to him was so obvious. Well, he was the kid's dad. He'd help him to see. But not right now. That was a job that could wait for when they woke up and could talk things out as a family. Gary closed his eyes, snuggling against Avocato, and let the warmth and security of the moment take him.