One Punch KO

A/N: Lila and Vandham finally go on a date, sort of, and it is just as weird as you'd expect.

Spoilers to Ch. 5 & Tree Clan, set shortly before Ch. 9. Some violence and swears (this is Vandham, friends). A lot of technical stuff I know little about, please comment and correct anything.

Lila's not Cross, she's not even close, she's an NPC with a helpful blue speech bubble about fuel usage. Same with Marcos & his place. Everything else belongs to the geniuses of MONLITHSOFT.

First date, won on technical points.

"Brown, gotta cancel on you today." Vandham's blond head glimmered across the comm device.

It was not quite 0500, and Lila was rubbing sleepy eyes as she stood by Bay 1 of Auxiliary Skell Refueling Substation 1. She'd been awake about 24 hours at this point, with another good 12 to go. Wednesday was hard, and Thursday was murder, even with a quick nap in the very small hours. But it kept the station afloat. The main BLADE hangar did its regular overhaul on Wednesday, so there was always an excess of customers that day, and Lila had staked her reputation on the promise that no one, but no one, would go unfueled if she could help it. Unfueled and uncharged. So her not-quite-official substation ran 24 hours from Wednesday morning into Thursday. Some days, they could take a break as soon as the official BLADE hangar staff opened shop. This was not that kind of day. Thursdays could be profitable, but still murder.

"Commander, sir. That's all right. I can shoot you the inventory reports, even without coffee. Is everything okay?"

"Everything is not okay." Through the comm device's tiny tinny speaker, his rumble sounded even gruffer than usual. "Five teams. We've lost five god dammed teams this week. I'm ripping the schedule to the ground."

"Oh, sir, I didn't realize. I mean, I knew about Whesker and Martina. And Robert."

"Customers of yours?"

"The first two. Robert's solid." She gave a small shrug, acknowledging that her station served a sketchier clientele. Or at least BLADEs that had more credits than planning skills.

"Was solid. Aw, hell, this has been a crap week."

"It's …"

"My fault."

"No, sir. But I know you're taking responsibility. And you will fix it." Her nod was definitive. "I was going to say, it's terrible. Every team is important, even my customers."

"Yeah, well, gotta go and reformat the whole damn Pathfinder division. Those sites are getting harder to find and maintain, but we still need them."

"Wait. Sir." Her face was thoughtful. "Will you be free tonight, around 2000?"

"You asking me out? Today? Because I am not in the mood, woman."

"Please, sir, not that again." Their semi-disastrous not-a-date incident (care of the inventive and incorrigible Miss Koo) was becoming a running joke between them. "But I think I know something you'd like."

"Sure, whatever."

"2000, my station. Eat something first."

"If I'm not dead or up on murder charges, we'll see."

xc2xc2xc2xc2xc2xc2

He sauntered into the station with 2 minutes to spare. One look at his face, his posture, told Lila that she had a very pleased commander on her hands.

"You figured it out," she stated, starting to smile.

"You would not believe who are going to be the Interceptors' new best buddies come Monday. In some cases, tomorrow."

"The Farmer and the Cowman should be friends," sang Lila.

"Come again?"

"It's from a classic musical called Oklahoma. Twyleth has been singing bits from it this month."

Vandham grunted.

"My Ma-non tech," explained Lila. "She likes to sing, and she's trying on human music for size."

"I know who she is. I'm just trying to imagine Ma-non show tunes. Naw, not working for me. So where's my surprise?" He examined Lila. The normally grungy tech, usually in coveralls, had cleaned up, now wearing leggings and a short, stretchy skirt in muted maroon. She had on a greyish hoodie, and her hair was in a high pony tail. She could be ready for anything.

She led him out onto the road leading to the commercial district. "Usually, I take the service ring, but I'll let you be my escort, just this once." He pretended not to notice how tightly she had to grip his arm at times, and she pretended that she was actually listening to his talk and not counting breaths to fight off hysteria. One of the many workarounds for her continued agoraphobia, and something he was glad to help with. Things returned to something resembling normalcy at the start of the Commercial district. She kept closer to buildings than was normal, but she released her death grip on his elbow, only to resume it during the short gap before the Industrial section.

When he felt her relax, he started making guesses about their destination. "Native Miran gelato stand."

"I wish."

"Aromatherapy lecture."

"Boring. No."

"Underground rave. Fencing classes. Cat fanciers club. Ma-non poetry slam."

"No, close, no, dear heavens no."

They turned right, past the waste processing area and into a confusing maze of stacks upon stacks of shipping containers. Lila picked her way through them. Vandham spotted some off-market equipment sales, and a few rowdy drunken Ma-non, and other assorted harmless dregs of NLA. Not exactly dangerous territory, but definitely low rent. He was already starting to enjoy this adventure.

They stopped in front of a stack of red containers, emblazoned with the word Axiom. Vandham couldn't spot anything that marked these out from any of their neighbors. But they meant something to Lila. She walked forward and laid her hand on a grimy smear. A vid screen popped up, smaller than a comm device's.

"…"

"Hi. This is Lila Brown. I have a guest."

"Hell, Lila, not more Ma-non again!"

"Stop being like that. No, it's human. He's human."

Vandham leaned close over her shoulder and peered into the screen. "Very." He was pleased to note Lila was not shifting away, even though he could have been nuzzling her ear under different circumstances. Any excuse, any pathetic excuse.

The man on the other side of where ever the screen was coming from made a sound that combined a strangle and a squeak. "That's the Commander! Oh, hell, wait a minute!"

The screen blipped away.

"Why do I feel a Ma-non would be more welcome?"

"Probably the surprise of it. Don't worry, it'll be fine." But her eyes were not certain.

"Worst case, we'll just go for pizza…" he started, and then a door slid open in the side of the container. He hadn't been able to detect the slightest seam in the side of it before, but clearly, now there was a dark opening.

"Like I said, come on." Lila walked through the opening. "Mind the stairs," she warned him.

There were indeed stairs, somehow leading down into where the deck should be. They must be leading below the main platform. Vandham made a note to check on the impact to stability this might make, one he'd be sure to follow up on, but not until tomorrow. First he wanted to see Lila's surprise.

They'd gone down maybe 28 steps when they reached another door, more obvious, and already open. Two men stood blocking it. Vandham recognized the face from the screen, a younger BLADE, a Curator, messy dark hair and a broad nervous face. The other man, darker by three shades, and a good hand shorter than Vandham, was bouncing excitedly as he waited for them to descend. Once they hit the bottom landing, he grabbed Vandham's arm and started shaking his hand enthusiastically.

"Jack!" he barked. "About time you showed up! I thought I was never gonna see ya."

"Marcos," Vandham replied, returning the handshake with equal gusto. "I'm still not sure I am here. Definitely not officially."

"Never knew you to be so dainty about things."

Vandham laughed. "I take it this is your legendary off-hours, off-the-record boxing gym. The one we're thinking of shutting down if we ever find it."

"You'd have to start looking for it first. Yes, this is it." The shorter man flung an arm across Vandham's shoulders, his unusually long reach compensating for the height difference. "Welcome to the Miran Boxing Academy," he stated with pride.

Lila had watched this interchange with narrowed eyes. "You know each other? Of COURSE you know each other. Pffffffft." She made a disgruntled sound and shook her head.

"Yeah, back on the Whale, we went a few rounds, right Jack?"

"You went, I just tried to survive, you vicious bastard."

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming? I could have set you up with something special, something to really wail on."

"Didn't know I was until a minute ago. Besides, I get to punch out enough fools for work. One of the few perks of the job." More laughter from the two, still none from Lila, but she was smiling.

"Let me give you the grand tour at least," Marcos continued.

Vandham hesitated. Lila shook her head again and grinned. "Run along, have fun. I'll be over in a corner, easing my disappointment with the speed bag."

"Hang on. Lila." Marcos stopped her as she turned to leave. He pointed over to the right wall. "There's a Prone looking for you. Wants a match. I can spare you three rounds, in about an hour or so. Sound good?"

"I'll check, but, yeah, sounds okay." Lila headed off towards what seemed to be some small lockers.

Marcos was intent on showing the whole place to Vandham at double time. "I don't know how she convinced you to come down, but I honestly am glad to see you, boy. I know you can't spare us much time, but I'm really proud of how this thing is coming together. Wasn't much point just for BLADEs, you know, but with all the xenos, I think we're really making something special," Marcos explained as he led Vandham past the various exercise and work areas, all of which surrounded two regulation rings in continual use.

Vandham had noticed a large number of alien guests of NLA, working out in traditional fashion. Mostly Prone males, their blue skins and bulky physiques striking compared to the more usual human fighters. Also several females, working their routines with varying levels of ferocity. What surprised him was a small corner where perhaps a half dozen Ma-non congregated. Their version of rope skipping defied human description, a sort of ritualized one person double-dutch.

"Ma-non? You're kidding me."

"Shhh, shhh, keep it down. I know it's stupid as hell, but we need them to feel just as much a part of this gym as the meatiest Prone."

"God lord, is that a beach ball they're using as a punching bag?" Vandham whispered.

Marcos couldn't stop a grimace. "Ugh, anything harder and they start up whining something fierce. But I gotta admire their dedication. I'm thinking of setting up a scaled down ring, if any of them ever shows an inclination to actually fight. Mostly, I think they're working off pizza related hangovers."

"Next you'll point out your Nopon contenders."

"Not yet, only have a few of them, and they prefer xeno-only night, Monday."

"Humans not welcome, huh."

"Everybody always welcome, just the rings are reserved for Prone that night. I gotta admit, I think that they're placing bets more than working out, but they keep it out of the house, so what can I do? We'll talk," he reassured Vandham. Then he perked up. "Tonight's mixed night, so you'll see some interesting things. Like I said, it's helping settle the differences between the groups. Better than having them pound each other in parking lots, am I right?"

Already, a male Prone and a human were going at each other in the ring closest to the two. The human wore regulation gear, gloves and headgear. The Prone towered over the human, but also wore gloves. It looked ridiculous. Vandham asked about the rules.

"Pretty standard, we don't make many concessions. Shorter rounds, sometimes, and points matter more since it's darn near impossible to knock a mim out. First time one of our guys gets in the ring, they're usually intimidated as hell, but we gotta remember, Prone can get hurt in a way we can't. If our guy knows anything about anything, he or she's gonna be able to give a good fight."

"What's with all the safety gear?"

Marcos laughed. "Can't get too used to going without, right? When everything is back to normal, we're gonna want it. What we really need is to develop some head gear for the Prone, especially the women. The males are dumb enough it probably doesn't matter. And mouth guards, that'll give me nightmares, but I gotta see about it."

They were passing another area, mostly lighter gear, and Vandham spotted Lila wailing snappily away at a speed bag. She had her hoody and skirt off, just wearing a simple green t and her reddish leggings. Ponytail bouncing away, regulation mitts on her hands. He liked the way she was moving, arms shooting out and snapping back tight. Her feet danced in some workout shoes she must have kept here.

Marcos had been saying something, but he'd missed it. He frowned when the other man laughed. "Pay attention, boy."

"I was paying attention."

"Not to me. I said, can I convince you to take on another fighter? I bet any Prone in the place would think it an honor to go a few rounds with you."

"Not a great idea. I'm so out of shape, I'd get hurt against a Ma-non."

"Only if you tripped on 'em. But at least you'll train a little?"

"Yeah, sure, sounds good." Vandham hesistated. "But I don't think I'm suited up for it."

"I can fix it. We got extra sweats, extra gloves." Marcos paused. "Probably can't fit you with shoes. Okay if you go barefoot?"

"I'm good with it. Heavy bag?" Vandham said hopefully.

"The heaviest. And I know just the Prone to help out."

xc2xc2xc2xc2xc2xc2

Damn, this felt good. Each punch, delivered without hesitation, without consideration for consequences, felt better than the last. Vandham gave a grunt of satisfaction. This felt just about perfect. The Prone that Marcos had found as his partner, a young male, echoed his grunt and stabilized the bag. After about ten minutes, they switched, and Vandham admired the youngster's force coming through the leather and sawdust.

During the second set, Marcos wandered past. "Dammit, Jack, what am I always telling you about your feet? When you stand like a rock, you're just about useless. Move them! Follow that bag, and you'll get twice the hits in for half the price. Jesus, you've gotten lazy!" He watched as Vandham started to shuffle a bit, working to match the bag as it swung back and forth.

Marcos stopped him, and demonstrated his point, with steps both quick and independent. Shoot, the man still had talent, nothing had changed. Vandham took a deep breath and tried to switch his attacks to something having more speed and less mass. His accuracy was still pretty good, he was pleased to note. He landed them where he wanted, no question.

Marcos watched him for a few moments more before moving away. His parting comment: "Better. But keep those hands up, Jack. No excuse to leave yourself open, even for a bag."

Vandham was enjoying the whole routine so much, he almost forgot about Lila. Almost, but not really. He kept an eye on the rings, and when a female Prone stepped into the further one, he stopped in the middle of a set to check. Yup, there came Lila, head gear, mouth guard, gloves. He murmured to his partner, thanking him, and wandered casually and fairly quickly to ringside.

There weren't too many other viewers. Most of the gym members were here for their own work, not for observation. A few Prone, one or two humans, and himself. The women bumped gloves and the fight was on.

Even from the start, Vandham wasn't happy about it. The pride he felt at seeing Lila up there couldn't distract him from his unease. The courteous start had been marred by a snarl from the Prone. She started wild, launching straight at Lila and connecting each time, good hits but a little inaccurate. Lila danced back a little, clearly sizing her opponent up. Vandham wasn't sure she had that luxury, because the Prone was hot. Well into the first round, Lila stayed very defensive. Marcos wouldn't have a word to say to her about keeping her gloves up, but it'd be nice if she actually countered for a change. Just as he thought that, she dodged in with a sharp and solid set of three hits, just above the stomach. It pushed the Prone back, made her pause. Then they returned to their roles, Prone swinging fast, Lila blocking most but not all of them.

Someone moved in next to Vandham. "Why helloooo, Commander, about time we saw you here."

Vandham shot a not-completely surprised glance at the man now at his elbow. The ever sociable Mediator, Lara Mara, 185 cm and 80 kilos (90 with armor), looking fashionable in a pristine powder blue sweat suit, and with perfectly matching eye shadow to boot.

"Didn't know you boxed, Mara." He returned his gaze to the fighters.

"I'm multi-faceted. You'd simply never know if you didn't give me a try," chirped Lara Mara. "Besides, some of the views here are spectacular."

"I'm not sure I'm liking this." Vandham was watching the two contestants circle each other in the ring with a frown.

"Oh, don't worry about that little thing. I've watched her a couple times. She really doesn't go all in, mostly a few early hits, then she wears them out. Her blue friend? She may have the advantage in arm length, but her aim leaves something to be desired."

It was true. Lila was all about the defense, blocking the majority of the prone's punches. A few got through, but most of those didn't land solid. Lila tested out one or two swings, seeing what she could land, and those connected surprisingly well. The Prone just kept coming at her, though. With each exchange, she lunged harder at Lila, pushing her back. The blue female was clearly not worn out yet.

The bell rang, and the Prone female threw one last hit, late by a fraction, but clearly late, clipping Lila right in the nose. As the two retreated to their corners, the Prone gave a viscous scream at her opponent.

Mara tut tutted with disapproval. "That girl better watch herself. She'll get bounced and I'd hate to have to mediate should this set of Prone decide to take offence." Jack thought about going to talk to Lila, but she looked too focused to bother. Besides, the break was ending fast.

Second round and Lila was fighting more directly. She was still concentrating on blocking and dodging, but she wasn't dancing back constantly. The pair exchanged blows, the Prone swinging all over, Lila's fewer hits mostly tight and centered. After one double hit, they heard the Prone take a hard breath and saw her pause. Lila danced back a few steps.

"Really, this is more hits than I've ever seen her throw. She's really sharp now. I think this Prone chose the wrong partner."

What happened next was quick and unexpected. The Prone did a kind of sweeping kick at Lila's ankles, knocking the tech flat on her back. The alien rushed the woman…

"Oh lord, that thing's gonna start kicking her," said Vandham with a total lack of cultural sensitivity.

… but Lila had rolled out of the way just as quickly and had bounced to her feet. She gave the Prone a wild smack to the head, more of a slap than a punch, and was rewarded by a shove from the other woman that sent her bouncing onto the ropes by the two men.

"Having fun, yet?" asked Mara.

"Tons," Lila said around her mouthpiece before ducking to the side. The Prone lunged into the space where Lila had been, and Jack got a very good look at her dark and furious eyes, all six of them. Also a mouth like a sea anemone and a rather nice rack. She turned and was after Lila instantly.

"This isn't good," said Mara, and his voice was void of any playfulness. "Something is up with that Prone woman."

An older Prone male had been standing beside them since the start. His height and form overshadowed both Jack and Mara, neither of whom could be accused of being delicate. He had been nodding with approval as the fight had continued, and had shouted some words of encouragement to both fighters. "You see it too. Good! It is good that Prone and humans share culture. Females declaring their readiness for courtship."

"What?!" "What?!" Vandham stared, appalled, while Lara Mara followed his exclamation with a grin of delight.

Vandham managed to sputter. "It's your males that get into trouble, all that crazy fighting crap."

"Yes, our males are excellent at fighting. And we select our mate. But our women must first agree to be courted. Until then, they are free from the burden of attention. They show their readiness by public display of excellence."

"By punching somebody?"

"Ha! That is idea from vile Cave Clan. Tree Clan women choose more wisely: hunting or weaving or a most beautiful dance." He sighed, and Vandham suspected that this prone's mate had done the latter. "Fighting is not our tradition, but young people are trying new ideas, and she is one such." He sighed again, not wistfully, and gestured to a male Prone, skipping rope ferociously in the corner. "It would work better if she slapped clueless male she likes, and not your female, but maybe other Prone watching will persuade her that they are better."

Mara Lara nodded his head with delight. "I was wondering why Lila was fighting so well tonight. Usually she just blocks the whole time, barely a friendly spar, even. I didn't realize she was showing off for the audience."

"Oh, lord, do NOT mention this to her."

"Aw, must you be a spoilsport? Well, I guess I'll leave it to you to explain, then. What I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall…"

The male Prone spoke again, measuring both men. "She has many potential mates here. She chose the night well."

Vandham closed his eyes and wished himself well and away, or at least not showing the deep blush he suspected was sweeping his face. Lara Mara's laugh was sharp and loud.

Apparently, the Prone had included a third contestant. Marcos' voice came from behind them. "I'm shutting this down, because that Prone has lost control and Lila's gonna hurt her soon." He made to climb into the ring.

The blue female xeno was still swinging at Lila, or more often, at the spot where Lila had been. She stumbled, almost down, then got up and shot towards Lila, trying to grab her neck. Luckily the gloves made this fairly pointless. Lila broke out of the engagement, paused just a space, then gave one full punch straight to whatever acted as a jaw for Prone, and her opponent hit the mat. Not a good sign. Any fighter paying attention would have blocked it fairly easily. "Stay down!" shouted Lila, dancing back even though her gloves were still up. But you had to give it to the Prone: she was still struggling to her feet, crawling towards Lila.

But by then Marcos was in the ring, standing like a pillar between them. "This is over." To Lila: "You, get out of the ring." To the older male prone: "Maron, you control your citizen."

Vandham followed the small group surrounding Lila as she left the area. Among them he noticed Solan. Just what the hell was the leading tech of the Mimeosome Maintenance Center doing in a place like this? Apparently giving the combatant a thorough reflex check. He had his hands all over Lila, checking her pulse, her eyes, her ribs, shifting her face from side to side. Once she'd gotten a glove off, he made her grip his hand, pushing down on her arm to test its strength. Then the other side. Same to her shoulders, and again a check of her neck, making her tilt it back and forth repeatedly, his hands cupped just below her jawline as she did. Vandham was relieved when he moved to a less handsy examination using his comm device. She posed and turned, as requested, before he finally swiped the screen closed and gave a satisfied nod. He looked at Vandham and shrugged.

"No damage. I'd invite her to come to the center but I know I'd be wasting breath. Luckily her thick headedness came to some good effect tonight." He gave a reproving sniff. "Marcos worries too much. I'm sure the other woman needs more assistance." He said goodnight and stepped quickly away.

Lila was sitting now, her hands still taped up, gloves dangling down from her lap. Vandham looked at her tired and confused face. He wanted to encourage her, make her smile. Instead, he said, "When the hell did you start boxing?"

She didn't smile. "On the boats, sir, back in the day. There's only so much stationary bicycling a girl can stand. It's good for upper body strength."

"There is no way they ever let you fight."

"Not really, no. There weren't that many women around to get into it."

"No one stupid enough. Except you."

"Aw, sir, sparring is all right. I got up to some things on shore, once or twice. Like I said, just sparring. I never came up against something like tonight though." She frowned.

"Yeah, Mara mentioned it." He grabbed a seat next to her, and started taking off the wrappings on one of her hands.

"I can do that, Commander."

"Jack. And I'm doing it now, so shut up." She sat silently, letting him loop the cloth off her knuckles and wrist. Whoever had put it on had done a good job, he noted approvingly. He rubbed her skin as it was exposed, smoothing the marks the wrappings had left. "You did good," he added softly.

He finished with her left hand and reached over to start on her right. The rest of the crowd had drifted off, so he took the opportunity to explain the cultural implications of that night's bout. He was relieved to see her smile, even give a soft laugh.

"So that's why she was so insistent." Her voice dropped and he had to lean in to hear her, her hand still in his. "She wanted me to lose. Asked me directly."

He must have shown something on his face, because Lila continued defensively. "I don't mind. I figured it must be something important. A bet or something."

'You'd throw a match," Vandham said slowly. "For the sake of a bet…"

"Yeah, well, I'm sketchy off hours too. Big surprise." Lila took back her hand and finished unwrapping it. Vandham felt like he'd lost a bet, big time. "Honestly, the Prone don't tend to go in for gambling as a whole. I figured it was something personal. I did ask. She said it wasn't for money, but she didn't explain more. Did not see this coming though." She gave him a small wry smile, and he nodded. She relaxed and started to roll up the wraps. He mirrored her with the other one. "I would've lost on points, no worries, but that woman wanted a KO, I guess. Like I'm gonna stand there and actually let her hurt me."

"Might have taken all night."

"Might have taken all week. She needs more practice on aim. Or glasses."

"Three sets of them." He was rewarded with a small chuckle that instantly was hushed.

Marcos was standing before them, hands on hips and a tremendous frown on his face. They both got to their feet, Lila in a flash, Vandham more deliberately. There was a surrounding murmur of attention that rose and then fell before Marcos spoke. His voice was loud and very public. "Chandler, you are banned from fighting for four weeks. I catch you so much as shadow boxing and you are out."

"Sir, yes, sir," said Lila. Vandham didn't even have to look down. He could sense her feet were at an exact angle. Her back was straight as a ruler.

"It was on you to stop that fight. Your opponent was headed for trouble. It is on us BLADEs to protect everyone. Do I make myself clear?"

"Sir, yes, sir, understood, sir." Her voice matched his for clarity.

Marcos' voice returned to a friendlier level. "You could use more work with the rope anyway. I expect to see a real boost in your footwork by the end of that time."

"Thank you, sir, I will try," she replied.

"And Jack, think about what I said before. I could get you a match any night of the week, especially mixed nights. It's not usually this crazy," he added, shooting one more disapproving look at Lila.

After he'd moved off, all Vandham could think of was to ask, "Chandler?"

"Old nickname. I'll tell you on the way back. I need to put my gear away, and you…" She glanced at his borrowed sweats and bare feet. "I don't think I've ever seen your toes."

"Yeah, regulation number." As she continued to stare, he snapped, "Need to goddamn count them?"

"No, sir, I'm sure they're fine. They look…" She was still looking at his feet, which was suddenly embarrassing. "They look just fine."

"Whatever. See you in 10." He did his best to stomp off, not highly successful, what with bare feet and a lot of floor space given over to mats.

The air outside the gym wasn't much worse or better. One good thing about mims, not too much in the way of sweat. Heat regulation had been solved, and wasn't the dev team proud of that. The two walked home, Lila close to Vandham, her hoodie now tied around her waist, hair still in a perky pony tail.

"Marcos called you BLADE. You're not."

"Everyone's BLADE, Jack, even if we aren't." She glanced up at the tower, where the number had almost reached single digits. A mistake on her part, because the dizziness that followed had her diving into his shoulder and pressing her face against him for a long moment. He waited for the trembling to subside, wondering what might happen if he wrapped both arms around her. Injured pride, probably, and a very stiff walk home.

Time to change the topic. "Chandler, huh. You were going to explain."

She gave herself a bracing shake, but still kept a light hold of his arm. Fine by him. "Old nickname. I got it back on my first boat and it sort of stuck."

"Right, I remember one guy in San Diego called you that."

She smiled. "Yeah, probably Aanderson. He was a bubblehead too."

"Weird crop of critters, you guys. You'd have to be, swimming around in glorified sardine cans. We shoulda brought along more of you."

"Well, we'd have done great on the Whale, but not so much on Mira, I guess. We like bigger teams. Can't go to the head without 30 of us coming along."

He laughed. "So, Chandler. How'd you get it?"

"Right, Chandler. So there I was, my first assignment and the captain was a maniac. Awesome man, crazy brilliant, with an emphasis on crazy. He'd barely run us out into blue water, when he put us through angles and dangles, and if they told us new kids, I must have missed it. Down we went, fast and deep, and straight back up, what a ride. But I was ready. My granddad had warned me, and I had paid attention. My gear was so prepped, my tic tacs didn't even rattle. Of course, I forgot to grab a good hold myself and pitched into a cabinet something fierce. I got a black eye the size of Rhode Island, and wore it for the first two weeks."

"Ouch. Scarlet Letter, on your face." He laughed along with her.

"Yup. I could have made a mint, charging a nickel every time somebody said, 'Oh but you should see the other guy.' And within the first shift, everyone had a comeback too. 'Oh, you should see the other guy.' 'What, the door?' Then it changed to 'What, the ceiling?' Then 'What, the chandelier?' And that was it. I walked into engineering 12 hours later, and they were blasting an old song about chandeliers. Plus, it had a video with some naked singer. End of the line, the name stuck."

"God damn, stuck with a handle that reminded you of how you messed up. Why didn't you ditch it?"

"Not so easy. Besides, it was better that than Shipmate Noob. And much better than other things. Only one thing a dedicated Navy man can do with the last name Brown."

"Gravy." He smiled. It was fun teasing her.

"Yes, that would have been my first guess too."

There was a pause, as they crossed the open area leading to the lower Administrative Area. Once she could breathe again, she continued. "It was a good boat, sir. Captain was completely insane, completely. He'd do all sorts of weird stunts, claimed it was for training or testing. We just thought he'd gone loopy, but we stuck by him, and were glad too. Only about a dozen women on that boat, you can imagine how unpleasant that could get. But he made us safe, made everyone safe. Best boat I've ever been on."

"Until the Whale."

"I'll stick by what I said. That whole thing was bad. And some of the Whale's crew, well…"

"Charley Foxtrot," he said, for the sake of her tender sensibilities.

"I wish that were all," she smiled. "There's been worse than just stupidity." She sighed.

He gave a grunt. Couldn't argue with her there.

She started reminiscing again. "Once, it was a couple months in, we were probably not too far north of Scotland, he had us go down, but way down, then everything was shut off. Fans, pumps, screens. Everything. He even had us kill all the lights. A boat full of breathing in the darkness, and I was trying not to breath. Man, I was a good little sailor. Then, I swear I could hear it. Whales, sir. Calling to each other. I know they say it can't happen, not on modern boats, but I swear I heard them. They'd moved us noobies close to the hull, I hadn't figured out why, and I swear I heard them. It was only that one time."

They had reached her station, standing just on the edge of it, dark and quiet and shut down for the night. She was still gripping his arm, even though the area was safe for her. She tilted her head back, eyes closed tight. "Sometimes, when the wind is right, when the station's really slow and quiet, I think I can hear them, the whales of Mira. They fly, right? And glow?"

"Yeah, the Levitath. Leave them alone, they don't mind you. Hell on flying skells though. Not really whales, just bags of air."

"You can hear them, sometimes, even from here." They stood in silence, listening. Lots of clanging, a rushing from the street, metallic footsteps, nothing more. She sighed, and released his arm. "But not tonight."

He walked with her up to the door of her flimsy shack of an office. He didn't even ask if she was heading home. This was the closest to a home she had, and it seemed to suit her, although in his opinion her couch was sketchy to the extreme. She turned at the door and thanked him nicely for walking her home.

"Gonna get a good night kiss this time?" Vandham teased.

He expected her to look prim, or maybe flustered. Instead, she smiled at him. "Well, I did ask you out, so I suppose, yes." Two could tease.

He blinked, then his face split into a broad grin. "Now you're talking! And one for last time?"

"I don't know…"

"Come on, I have two cheeks, no waiting." He leaned in sideways at her, offering the right side of his face for starters.

She reached up, placing a hand along his jaw, and swiveled his face straight towards her. Then she kissed him full on. He never knew what hit him.

A/N: Quite a lot happens in the next hour. Probably spent discussing fuel ratios. Yeah, that's totally what they're doing next …. I love this couple, and I have run out of shame about it. (If you have another Vandham ship, sail it out there and I will love you too. If I could write any Nagi-Vandham stuff, I would, but I can no more write Nagi's voice than I can look straight at the sun. I've managed it very recently, but only for a few paragraphs at a time.)

Next up: The fluff goes on. Lila wonders if she needs her head examined. Then she stops wondering. The author begins to wonder if this whole thing will need to switch to M in the chapter after that...