It wasn't until everyone was gone that Natasatch realized just how populated her room became. Almost a dozen XCOM operatives filed into her little refuge an hour ago, far more than the typical occupant count of one Viper and occasionally one human. Even with the breach of her space, Natasatch enjoyed it all, since she was celebrating along with them.
For the third time in a minute, Natasatch tilted her head to the side and rolled her shoulder forward, viewing the three gold chevrons on a cloth badge safety-pinned to her new hoodie. That was the first gift of today, a surprise Malcolm sprung perfectly. He led her to a promotion ceremony like any other, and shot her a toothy grin when the Viper heard her name announced. Central Officer Bradford promoted him to sergeant alongside her, but all the eyes were on the alien who was now an official XCOM soldier. To her and many of the audience, it was all unreal.
It was real, right? It couldn't hurt to check it again.
Even with her gaze on her sergeant's stripes, she could sense Malcolm just off to the side, clearing the table of any litter from the modest festivities. He hummed a soft tune, occasionally peeking over and catching Natasatch admiring her insignia. She hadn't asked directly, but Natasatch surmised her friend was the reason she was enjoying her new status, if the way Bradford and Mercier summoned the man before the ceremony proved anything.
She saw them afterwards as well. Bradford briefly visited to wish her well and remind her that she was taking on even greater responsibilities now, similarly but much more informal than his promotion speech. Lieutenant Mercier did the same and stayed longer, congratulating her little rascal on showing the rest of XCOM her dedication. Morsov and McCann wanted to see how she was reacting, and requested Natasatch's help in gaming the growing betting racket over her future actions. Schwarzschild and Taylor brought their own gifts, which were a board game involving letters and the hoodie she now wore, respectively. Even some unknown faces came to visit. And they all wanted the beer that Malcolm provided.
Malcolm enjoyed the beer too, of course. Yet, his attendance was a given, the same as always. Natasatch paused a moment. It occurred to her she couldn't quite pin down why Malcolm's presence was so certain. Her inability to answer that question wasn't because of the alcohol, either. One taste was enough for her to shun the liquid for the foreseeable future.
Natasatch looked over to her human friend. Conveniently, he'd finished tying the waste bag, and sat on a folding stool and as he reached for his beer bottle. Malcolm took a swig as he met his gaze with her.
He asked, "What's up, Nat?"
Natasatch tasted the air. She knew by now the smell of human breath, and currently it was laced with that foul-smelling liquid in their drinks. Not an excessive amount, in Malcolm's defense, but enough to 'loosen his lips,' as the idiom book said. Besides, now that Natasatch was an actual member of XCOM, she no longer had that Gremlin monitoring her every moment, something she'd hope Malcolm would appreciate. "I have a question."
The human answered jovially, despite not having heard the question. "Don't worry, don't worry, I got you a gift too. I wouldn't forget now, would I?"
Natasatch's eyes widened slightly. Another gift wouldn't be unwelcome. "Aah... thank you, Malcolm! But, it's something else."
Malcolm took another drink from his beer. "Shoot."
The Viper inhaled, taking a moment to collect herself before she began. "You like me."
Her enhanced senses meant the spot of heat rising in his cheeks didn't go unnoticed, but Malcolm's only outward response was to raised an eyebrow. "That question sounded a lot like a statement to me."
She raised an eyebrow right back. The Viper had learned his human tricks. "So, it's true?"
He shrugged. "Don't I like everyone, Nat?"
"Hmm, that's also true." Her human friend certainly had a way with other humans. "But you like me more than others," she added, playfully.
"I like all my friends equally! Even my favorites. Especially my favorites!" Malcolm dramatically waved around the arm gripping his beer, the golden liquid in the clear glass bottle swirling with the chaotic motions. Certainly distracting, but she refocused on the owner of the arm.
The human's face was warming further, but no signs of anger or fear. Good. She was pressing in the right places. Natasatch continued, "My question is, why are we friends?"
"Because we enjoy each other's company, I hope," Malcolm responded, furrowing his brow.
She slid a few feet forward, looking a little worried she was coming across the wrong way. Even with how much she'd learned so far, something always risked being lost in translation. She was curious, not angry. Malcolm picked up on her concern, allaying his own briefly. "I do, Malcolm. As long as we've known each other, we've been friends, unconditionally. But, I don't remember when we... weren't friendly."
"Care to continue, please?"
Natasatch did so. "Even when I was just a regular Viper soldier and you just a scavenger who passed by, you were sociable with me. Even beyond what was tolerable by ADVENT regulation. Why? You must have known how easily the our patrols could mistreat unregistered civilians, especially if I decided you broke the rules?"
Malcolm looked to be pondering an answer, or maybe just pondering taking another sip of his drink, but either way, he didn't respond yet. Natasatch spoke again, "What stopped you from just staying silent?"
A few moments passed as the Viper scrutinized the human, his figure slumped n his seat. Finally, Malcolm raised his head, and he finished the last of his beer before he looked to Natasatch, something bright behind his brown eyes.
"Actually... Can I show the gift for you? Now that I think about it, it's perfect!"
Natasatch sighed, and shrugged. She wouldn't force a direct answer out of him. Besides, she'd be getting her gift either way. "Very well, Malcolm."
"Great!"
Malcolm presented her with a small set of cases, each of which held an obsolete disk-shaped digital storage, with the words 'Star Trek: TNG' written on one side in marker. He justified its obsolescence by how older data devices couldn't be remotely accessed and wiped like all commercially available modern storage could, and that these were the closest thing he had to a family heirloom, the inheritance from his late salvage boss. Malcolm needed to wire an entirely separate device to the modest holoprojector in the room to read the format, and the Viper used the time to get comfortable.
Finally, the human sat on the other side of her cushion as he dimmed the lights. The projector flashed on, illuminating the room in supple blues and whites. Despite obviously having viewed it many times, the opening crawl and narration continued to enrapture the human viewer, as did the first episode, the fifth, and the twenty-ninth (Malcolm apologized for the random sampling he had available). After the initial spectacle of space travel wore off, the alien viewer found herself considerably less enraptured, more interested in pointing out the obvious inaccuracies of historical development and lack of any of the actual alien species of the galaxy.
Initially, Malcolm responded to her comments with enthusiasm, but eventually caught on. He lowered the volume and turned to his friend, slightly crestfallen. "Not enjoying the show very much?"
She shook her head, hood flexing as the motion turned into a stretch and a yawn. "I'm sorry," she admitted. "It must be a human thing."
Malcolm sighed, running a hand through his black hair. "Ah, don't worry, my friend," he said. "Star Trek isn't as popular with humans now. The 'final frontier' came to us, and it sucks. It's silly how hopeful we were back then."
Natasatch tilted her head, looking back to the screen. "I don't understand how you can enjoy it, honestly," she admitted. "There's nothing in there that's real or accurate, not even the plasma weapons or psionics."
Malcolm sighed. "That's not what I care about... Look at the people there. See how different they are?" He seemed almost frustrated. Fortunately, not at her, she presumed.
"They're humans, in different suits and rubber foreheads."
He gave a small, defeated chuckle. "That's true. But they're also meant to be aliens, at least in the story."
"Alright. Continue?"
"Look at where the 'aliens' are, Nat," he said, pointing at the screen. It was the bridge of the human vessel, The Enterprise. "They're at the command consoles next to humans, in cities with both humans and aliens. They're talking with humans. Marrying them! They're just people just like us, that look a little different. What do you think of that?"
That was consistent with Natasatch's observations. Yet... "I think that it's still a simulation."
Malcolm gave her a wry smile, taking a drink of water as he did so. "Maybe. Maybe. All stories are fake, in a way, even the true ones. Heh, especially the true ones. But sometimes, if enough people believe in the fake thing, they can make it real."
She didn't want to call her friend a fool, even if he was saying foolishness. "You think enough humans can... believe a Klingon into existence?"
He shrugged. "Nope. That's implausible. I only consider the impossible stuff, like the idea of aliens becoming XCOM sergeants."
Natasatch couldn't think of a response to that one. She touched the badge in question, just to see if it was real again. It was.
Malcolm had settled into the cushion again, and set the water bottle to the side. He said, "You asked me why I talked to you in the first place? It's because I wanted that." Malcolm angled his pointer finger at the screen.
"You want to captain your own space vessel?" she asked, half-joking. Malcolm laughed, and she gave a small chuckle with him, her head snaking back and forth in bemusement.
"That would be amazing, Nat. Captain Malcolm Silva has a nice ring to it. But I just want to live in their society, where... you know, aliens are just another kind of human, and we can all do wonders together. It's an old, campy, inaccurate fantasy, but I want it so much to be real that I..."
His smile died a little as each word passed from his lips, and Malcolm was dead serious when he gathered his thoughts again.
"You asked if I thought you were different from other Vipers? Well... I didn't," he admitted. "I'm sorry, but you were a just a Viper at first. Heh, when we first met, I was scared shitless! I didn't know if you would humor me or murder me for daring to speak to you uninvited. I knew firsthand how strict ADVENT could be, and I heard what a Viper could do to a person. But I didn't want to give up that dumb fantasy of mine, so much that I was willing to pretend I could befriend an alien."
"I thought it went excellent, as far as first introductions go," Natasatch assured. "Nobody had ever asked me my opinion on the weather, and in Standard as well. You had my interest."
"Luckily. I had nothing going for me but blind optimism. But I had to try, Nat. Even if the trying killed me."
Natasatch didn't like the sound of that. She uncurled herself from her recline, turning her body around to face him. In the dim lighting above and the soft blue glare from her side, her beige and orange scale shimmered against her lithe frame. The Viper couldn't help but look as much a predator as she ought to be, even as her wide red eyes tried to prove otherwise. "I would never attack you, Mal," she said.
Malcolm replied, genuinely, "I know."
At the same moment, the two realized how close the Viper's muzzle drifted over, having already crossed the halfway point of the cushion, and flustered simultaneously. Despite the heat in his face, Malcolm reached his opposite hand over, his palm connecting with the soft scales between her eyes.
"See? Would you believe that three months ago? Incredible."
Incredible. That's the word she'd use. The whole situation was quite familiar, but there was no battle or interrupting rookies to distract from the moment. The heat of Malcolm's hand sent ripples over the sensitive infrared receptors on her face, and his callouses only added to the feeling when he began to idly scratch her forehead. Natasatch shut her eyes, wiggling her nose a bit, focusing on this unusual (but not unpleasant) sensation, and a few minutes passed before the human's arms grew fatigued. He pulled away, and Natasatch took her time opening her red eyes to her dark, metal sanctuary again.
"Thank you for letting me believe just a little bit longer." Malcolm whispered, softly. She wouldn't have heard him over the already-quiet holospeaker if he wasn't next to her ear. The young human had closed his eyes by the time Natasatch turned to face him, the screen's glow brightening his olive skin. The alcohol, the day's events, and the episode marathon finally caught up to the energetic young man.
Out of the corner of her vision, she saw the show's episode continue. The bald human captain was addressing his fellows, making an impassioned speech about respect for life and other human paradigms, concerning a pale human the show insisted was a synthetic. The reading materials given to her at the start of her integration included fiction, but once Natasatch recognized it for what it was, the Viper moved on to non-fiction and guides. A product of her programmed upbringing, now that she thought of it, to never look past that first layer, or to think critically for herself.
This time around, she listened, despite the sleep settling over her eyes interfering. It certainly sounded more true than her ADVENT directives ever proved. She'd lain her head down on her coils, curled up and comfortable and safe, in this human ship, next to her human friend. She took one more look at her still-extant badge as she closed her eyes. Before sleep overtook her, Natasatch whispered back. "Thank you, for believing in us."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey guys. Sorry for the silence and the long absence. In a nutshell, my game broke for a while, but I got it working again and was inspired enough to write again. More details on my tumblr, of course. Thanks so much for sticking with me, and I hope this makes up for it.