Act II - The Call

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At first when Orin didn't hear from Russ, she didn't worry. It had happened before—the Fearless was on a covert mission or Russ was up to his ears in work. Months of being in a long-distant relationship had taught her that the few weeks they'd shared when Fearless had helped evacuate her city were a rare thing. But he'd get in touch as soon as he was free, probably in a few days.

A few days passed. Orin checked and re-checked the message box that Russ had set up. It was a way for them to keep in contact that wouldn't compromise Fearless's security—he'd leave a message on the remote server, she'd retrieve it, and vice versa. But there were no messages.

She checked the holonet sites where the few citizens that were following the fighting, mostly young males that were swept away by the romance of war, could keep abreast of developments. There was no news of the Fearless. So she carried on, as she had done for months on end now, and did her best not to let her imagination get away from her.

Another week passed and Orin heard that the Fearless had 'received minor damage during a skirmish with Separatist forces'. There was no mention of casualties—there never was. Reports mentioned attacks, counter-offensives, bases, and fleets. Broad sweeping things, but never the men themselves. Orin left Russ a message, updating him on all the little minute of her life that she knew he liked to hear about: trying a new dish at a tapcaf, an former co-worker bringing in her new baby, the arrival of the first spring flowers, a new dress. She submerged herself in her life in safe, far away Commenor and did her best to keep going. It wasn't easy.

Two weeks became three and Orin worked harder, stayed up later, partied recklessly, and laughed more. If anyone noticed the shadows under her eyes and the way her laughter sounded forced, they didn't mention it. All the while, she kept leaving Russ messages. All the while, she waited to hear from him. All the while, silence.

Cam had just come off-duty. It was early morning on the Fearless, most of the troopers on-board were getting their first meal of the day. The mess hall was going to be absolutely jam-packed. Even the commander's newly instigated meal roster hadn't eased the congestion by much. In any case, Cam had made sure to eat prior to going on shift. All he wanted now was some rack time. Well, rack time and his best buddy to come to his senses.

He made his way down the corridors, cap in hand so as not to have to deal with all the saluting. Sometimes being an officer was a right pain. He just hoped that Russ would be asleep when he came in. Russ was working himself into the ground; not eating, staying up all hours, and beating himself up over something that wasn't his fault. Stupid di'kut couldn't see it, but it was starting to show. Cam had now fixed three mistakes Russ had made during his shift as Comms Officer. For Russ to make one mistake was rare, two was unheard of, and three? Strictly speaking, Cam should've brought this to Major Nies's attention already. But he hadn't, so now his arse was in the firing line as well.

Cam rounded the corner and made his way to the fifth door on the left. The door slid open silently, to reveal three empty bunks and one occupied by a loudly snoring Russ.

Cam let out a breath he didn't remember holding. He loosened the neck of his tunic where it was starting to pinch him and stripped off his gloves. Russ was still fully clothed; he'd apparently fallen asleep before changing to his sleep shorts. He wasn't even lying down properly, his face ground into the wall instead, and with his neck at an uncomfortable-looking angle. Cam went over and, with a bit of grunting, manoeuvred his friend into a horizontal position.

That was when he noticed the datapad. It had fallen onto Russ's blanket when Cam had moved the other man, its screen still on and glowing. Cam sighed. Russ was pushing himself so hard and for no good reason. He half felt like taking it off Russ, maybe that would shock some sense into him. What was so important about it anyway?

Out of curiosity, he picked up the 'pad. Indecipherable diagrams flickered past. He was about to put it down when it beeped at him. Cam flinched, feeling guilty about nosing around, but Russ didn't twitch. A small 'to do' list popped up on the screen: Message Orin—28 Days Overdue. Unread Messages—5.

Perhaps it was intrusive of him to read Russ's messages, crossing over that thin, artificial line of privacy that every man needed in order to be able to live in such tight quarters. However as far as Cam was concerned, Russ had waived his right to privacy when he started acting like a droid.

Two messages in, he had realised what Russ was doing and that he wasn't the only person that Russ was trying to push away. This wasn't on.

He just hoped that Orin could get through to Russ. He hoped that Russ would let her help him.

Russ was in good spirits when he returned to the infirmary for his follow-up medical. He'd memorised the Fearless's electrical system in less than three days. It had taken him twice that time to learn the environmental system, and today was his last check-up before things went back to normal. He'd been warned that there was a risk that he might suffer long-term damage from his spell in the black, but he wasn't worried. He'd been pushing himself harder than ever in the gym and seemed to be as good as new. This check-up was just a formality before he could get back to important things, like upgrading the security systems on the larty com system.

The droid ran the scanner over Russ's chest one last time, making artificial 'hmming' noises as it did so. It was really starting to irritate Russ—both the noise and the fact that it was taking an age to finish something that should been a two minute job.

"Well, what is it?" he growled as it finally lowered its appendage.

"It seems that the damage to your alveoli as a result of your recent extravehicular activity is permanent. Because of this, future incidents could result in total loss of function."

Russ just grunted. Only a droid could make it sound like he'd just gone for a stroll outside the airlock on a whim. He muffled the urge to vent his frustration on its metal casing. "In Basic, Two-Bee."

"You are no longer fit for shipboard duty. Any sudden pressure changes could rupture the lining of your lungs." The droid turned aside, extending a probe towards the med bay's computer terminal.

"Wait! What? What are you doing?"

The droid tilted its head towards him as though it were inspecting an interesting specimen. "I am appending your file so that you will be transferred off the ship at the next opportunity."

"Off the ship?" Russ repeated numbly.

"That is what I said." The droid waved its scanner in front of his face. "It seems that your hearing has been damaged as well. Please hold still so that I may complete the scan."

He waved it aside, unthinking. "The scan is completed. There's nothing wrong with my hearing."

It paused. "Very well then. Please vacate the bay for other patients." It plugged itself in, the docking rings of the data terminal spinning as the droid took his years of service on the Fearless and turned it into nothing.

Not fit for shipboard duty. Transferred off Fearless. He looked at his hands in his lap—they were shaking.

Out of the blue, her com-link chirped. Orin paused, fork halfway to her mouth. She was eating dinner; whoever it was could wait. She kept chewing, ignoring the little chirps until they finally stopped.

She had finished her vegetables and was starting on the good stuff when it beeped again, more insistently this time. Orin shoved her meal to one side, grumbling about inconsiderate people as she rummaged in her bag for the annoying thing.

"Yes?" she snapped.

"Am I speaking with Orin Fenn?" a familiar voice asked.

Orin's heart leaped. "Russ, is that you?"

The instant the words left her lips, she knew it wasn't. The voice was close, but it wasn't quite right. It lacked a certain properness and wryness. Her mystery caller confirmed her hunch.

"Apologies, ma'am. I'm CT-9353—Cam. We met on the—"

"On Fearless," Orin filled in, impatient to get to the meat of the conversation. "You're Russ's friend. You're in communications too, right?"

There was a pause. "That's correct, ma'am."

Orin's stomach clenched up. Why was Cam calling instead of Russ? Why would… Oh no. Her knees went wobbly; just as well she was sitting down, she thought numbly. Everything seemed hyper-real, as though her brain was trying to take in everything for posterity's sake.

"Is he dead?" she heard herself ask.

Her voice sounded all wrong, flat and eminently practical. She could've been asking about the weather. A tiny part of her shouted, 'not Russ!' while the rest of her curled into a ball and wailed.

"No."

Cam's reply threw her adrift again, a welter of conflicting emotions assaulted her. He wasn't dead! But then why hadn't he replied to her messages?

"He isn't reading them," Cam said.

Orin realised she must've said that last part aloud.

"He's in a bad way," said Cam. "We were in a battle with a Seppie ship. Russ had to make a decision. It wasn't a bad decision," he hastened to add. "But a lot of men died and that's weighing on him a fair bit."

Orin swallowed a lump in her throat. Luckily for her, she didn't need to reply as Cam kept on talking.

"I've spoken to the commander and he thought it might help to snap Russ out of it if he could touch base with you."

"Russ's commander knows about us?" Orin managed to croak. "I thought Russ wasn't allowed to be seeing someone."

Cam's hesitation wasn't reassuring in the slightest. "Under the circumstances," he said carefully. "I think the commander will take whatever help he can get."

"What am I supposed to do? He's not—" She had to try again. "What if he doesn't want to see me?" It hurt even to say it.

"Talk to him," Cam said. "Comm him. The commander's already signed off on it."

Orin's brain was skittering away from the darker side of the situation, only able to focus on one thing: she could talk with Russ again! Cautiously, not wanting to be shot down, she asked, "would it help if I saw him in person?"

The silence that followed was so long that she thought for sure that the signal had been lost.

"Are you still there, Cam?"

"Yes ma'am. I have to run this by the commander first. Could you please wait one?"

Wait one what? "Okay," she said.

She laid the com-link down on the table beside her and poked at her congealing stew with her fork while she waited. She should really finish her dinner, but the globs of yellow fat ringing the plate weren't helping her appetite any. After a beat, she jumped up and threw it out.

What was she thinking? Sure, she had the credits and enough leave saved up to go off-planet for a bit, but did she really want to use it all up on a guy who couldn't be bothered to get in touch for almost a month to let her know that, oh yeah, he actually was still breathing? Orin didn't know whether she should feel angry, relieved, or worried. In any case, her brain seemed to have thrown in the towel and just gone for all three at once.

"Are you still there, ma'am?"

Orin snatched up the small device. "Yes! I mean, yes. I'm still here."

"The commander says we'll be coming into RHE shipyards, on Rothana, in 76 hours—that's a little over three days from now. If you can be there, you can see Russ."

She grabbed some flimsiplast before she could forget. "RHE Yard," she repeated, writing it down. "On Rothana in 76 hours. Got it."

"That's correct, ma'am." Cam said. "I hope to see you there."

There was a small click and he was gone, leaving Orin to stare at the lifeline in front of her.

Could she get there in time? And more importantly, did she want to?

Some tiny, petty part of her was furious and humiliated that Russ was alive but hadn't contacted her. Like he thought all her worrying and sleepless nights were no big deal. But that petty bit was almost drowned out by her exhilaration at finding out that not only was he alive, but she could see him for the first time in months. It was a non-decision—whirling maelstrom of emotions aside.

Orin poured herself a cup of herbal tea, and punched in her best friend's com-number. "Hi Mayher. I'm going to be out of town for a bit. Could you look after the place for me?"

After the minor medical check-up that wasn't so minor, it just got worse for Russ.

"I'm sorry to be losing you, lieutenant," Commander Gett said, leaning across his desk towards Russ. "But I'm sure that the training cadre on Kamino will greatly benefit from your expertise."

Kamino. Russ felt a shiver go down his spine. "Couldn't I be assigned to a different ship, sir? Even a planetary shuttle? No chance of being sucked into the black there." He forced a smile.

The commander's face was sympathetic, but his posture screamed no. "I'm sorry, Russ," Commander Gett said gently. "But according to Medical, the constant pressure changes in shuttle work would be even worse for you than staying on board the Fearless."

Russ dropped his eyes. He was grounded. He was useless and his body was useless. Somehow it made it that much worse to have two strikes against him. "I can still help, sir," he tried. "No one knows LAAT/i comm systems like I do."

Commander Gett cut him off. "Which is why we need you on Kamino, passing on your knowledge to the cadets. My decision is final. You'll disembark when we reach Rothana, so don't forget to draw out a set of armour from Supplies. Dismissed."

So soon! Rothana was only three days away. Russ managed to return the commander's salute and plodded to the door. He'd just opened it when the other man cleared his throat loudly.

"Ah, lieutenant, one more thing. There'll be a few days before your shuttle to Kamino arrives, so you'll have some time to spare."

Russ managed to nod politely and ducked out of the office.

Thanks so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed :)