.

Ryley Robinson

Ryley Robinson had drawn the short straw at birth. Or what Alterra considered the short straw, rather. Alterra did not look kindly on those born with disabilities, because in their eyes, disability meant a blow to production. It meant you were a liability, not an asset. It meant you were better off sitting on the sidelines being table fed scraps until you lived out your natural, useless life of doing nothing but watching the world pass by around you. If parents learned the child they were expecting would probably be born with some sort of disability, either that child was given up to the system at birth or aborted so their parents could get right on producing more productive offspring. If the disability was discovered later, then poof. You disappeared in the system.

Mutism apparently counted as a debilitating disability. After all, if you couldn't bark orders and had to take the extra time to write or sign them out, you were too slow to be of any help to anyone. No one could be bothered taking the time to learn sign-language these days. It was a waste of time, resources, and potential that could be put to better use elsewhere, and since it couldn't be detected in the womb, it had taken years for anyone to realize he couldn't speak and could only really make sounds. It wasn't that he didn't understand what everyone was saying or how they were saying it, it was just that he couldn't do it himself. In those years, he had grown attached to his parents because of course he would. He was a little kid who loved mommy and daddy, and mommy and daddy loved him right back. Up until the moment they realized their child wasn't 'normal'.

Poof. Into the system. Not a word of warning. They waited until he fell asleep one night, packed him up, and ditched him at the closest facility for children like him. He woke up to strangers and not even a goodbye note, so F his parents. He liked to pretend they'd never existed or imagine they'd died before he'd known them and the ones who had ditched him were imposters. He'd never seen them since or even spoken to them. For all he knew he had siblings somewhere out there he would never know about, because he wasn't considered worth the effort to even keep in the loop.

From that day on, he had been made fully aware of just how 'lucky' he was that he was Alterran and not anything else, because Alterra treated their 'disabled' far better than most others did apparently, and that wasn't saying much. He'd grown up being told right from the get-go just how useless he was and how worthless he would always be, but instead of being brainwashed into thinking he was 'one of the lucky ones'—okay, so maybe a bit of that rhetoric had stuck—he became determined to prove them all wrong. Prove everyone wrong! He was more than nothing. He wasn't useless! He would make something of his life one day…

Subnautica

The education offered to children with disabilities was subpar. You learned the basics you'd need to get by in life if you went out to a grocery store or by some miracle landed a less-than-minimum wage job, and that was it. Most of his learning he'd done himself. He'd gone to libraries, snuck into lectures, scoured the internet, snuck into schools and classes where possible… He'd done everything he could to challenge his mind, and he was a brilliant student! He wouldn't say he was a genius, but he liked to think he was at least well above average. Adaptable, quick-witted, a fast learner—he was something his parents would have been proud of if they'd just given him a chance…

His bit his lower lip and willed back threatening tears of frustration. Tears always made an appearance whenever he started to think this way. Think about mom and dad and the life he could have had if he'd just been born normal. He grimaced in disgust. Normal. He hated that word with a burning passion, but the reality was, there was a such thing as normal and there was a such thing as abnormal. He just had to keep reminding himself there was no shame in being abnormal. It just meant you got to show what you were capable of in other ways that weren't exactly conventional! So that was what he did.

Space exploration had always enticed him. Not so much the science of it as the curiosity. The science wasn't necessarily boring, in fact he was really into Earth and Space sciences, but the exploration and research aspects of that particular brand of science intrigued him most of all. He set his sights on getting a job where he could maybe catch the eye of someone willing to give a mute a chance at something more. Did he believe it would happen? Not really. He couldn't even recall off the top of his head the last time anyone with any form of disability had reached any kind of notable heights with Alterra—though he knew it had happened—but he wasn't deterred. He was nothing if not a fighter.

In Alterran society, it took a miracle to get any kind of work when you were disabled. If you caught that miracle, you tended to land less-than-minimum wage jobs that maybe gave you minimum wage later if you proved you were good enough to hack it. That wasn't enough, so he cut out the middleman, so to speak, and shot right for the stars. Literally. He took to volunteer work. Gave his services freely to whatever captain came in with a dirty vessel. He would clean it, fix it if he could, he would work until that stupid thing was sparkling, and maybe if he was lucky, he'd get tossed a credit for his trouble. Most just laughed and mocked him figuring it was the best he could do. Beg for table scraps like he was supposed to by showing off a little and hoping he got 'more than was his due'. FYI, he usually didn't. In fact, he was lucky to get a thanks. Usually it was 'go buy yourself something nice' or 'get away from my ship' or 'Mute, you aren't getting a credit from me'. He'd begun networking in this manner when he was fourteen, but it was years before it finally paid off…

Subnautica

Captain Hollister had blown in on an ill-fated wind during an icy winter's night just as Ryley was about to pack up and head 'home'. Preferably before freezing to death. The weather was so bad you could barely see two feet in front of you. He'd spotted the lights and the door of a decent-sized spacecraft opening wide. He'd spotted the silhouette of a big, burly, rough-looking man with a greying beard and somewhat wild hair. The man's eyes swept the docks, intense and hard, and fell on him. He could only gape.

"You there, deckhand!" the man called out. Ryley looked quickly around before realizing the man was talking to him. He looked back at him and pointed at himself questioningly. "What's the matter? Speak up! I can't hear you over this damnable wind." Ryley was still, unsure how to respond. The man waited a moment for a response. "Can you speak?" he finally asked, sounding a little annoyed. Ryley shook his head. "A mute then. Poor man." Ryley frowned and shook his head rapidly and firmly. "You have a spunk to you I see. I don't see how you could consider yourself not unfortunate given the stigma Alterra has you living under. Have you a place to stay?" Ryley tentatively nodded. "Is it close?" Hollister asked. Ryley grimaced and shook his head. "Very well. Get in. My request can wait for the dock workers after this cursed storm passes us by. Until then it'll hardly do to have you freeze to death out here. Or me for that matter. The ship can hold out one more night. Ryley shifted uncomfortably. "Come now. I won't bite," the man said. Ryley tentatively nodded and cautiously approached. Quickly the man ushered him inside then shut the door behind them.

Ryley looked quickly and suspiciously back at the Captain, eyes narrowed, before looking around. Narrowed eyes soon became wide with awe and wonder. "Are you a worker here?" the man asked. Ryley looked quickly over at him, having almost forgotten his presence. He shook his head in response. "Then what are you doing out so late in a blizzard?" the man demanded. Ryley looked at the supplies in his hands and held them up. "Why the devil are you cleaning and repairing ships at dock if you aren't getting paid?" The man asked. Ryley shifted a little and bowed his head, a resentful look flashing through his eyes. "Of course. Foolish question. If I know Alterra, and having been born here I certainly do, odds are very good you have little choice. What is your name?" Ryley looked up at him warily, put his things down, then moved to sign a response. "No, none of that. I never did get around to learning that hand-wavy nonsense." Ryley frowned, put out by the attitude. "Write it down," the man ordered, taking a piece of paper and a pen and offering them. Ryley took the materials and did so, writing his name in mild annoyance and offering them back.

"Ryley Robinson. Ah. I am Captain James Hollister, a freelancer who works for whoever is willing to pay for my services. Alterra just so happens to be the one that can most often afford those services. Perish forbid they contract out to anyone who isn't Alterran by birth. Fortunately for them, the best of the best happens to be just that," Hollister said. Ryley pointed questioningly at him. "Of course me!" Hollister replied. "Hmm… As long as you're here, could you perhaps find the time to do some work around the ship? I can promise you'll be well-compensated." Ryley tentatively nodded and prepared to get out his things. "Not now you silly thing! Goodness knows how long you've been working already. Take a well-deserved rest. Best you not end up killing yourself with exhaustion."

Ryley stared at him, trying to puzzle out how to feel about the 'silly thing' remark. He felt like it should be insulting, but somehow, coming from this man's lips, it didn't seem that way. It seemed like it was just a natural turn of phrase the Captain used. He seemed too busy and no-nonsense to be bothered with anything truly malicious.

"There are spare rooms scattered about. I'm sure you can find something to suit your needs. I'm going to bed. If you're hungry, there's a map that can guide you to the kitchen. I have a good man there. Been with me since he was a little scamp like yourself." Ryley started, a bit offended—he was older than that—and frowned in annoyance. "Ozwald is the name. He prefers Ozzy. If he's awake, tell him I sent you and he'll whip you something up. He'll be glad for the company besides. If he doesn't so happen to be awake, help yourself. I'll explain the missing items to him come morning. If he catches you mussing up his kitchen, or café as he likes to claim, then pray. He's quite proud of it and very protective over the ridiculous thing. Damned if he doesn't serve up a meal fit for a king though. The man can turn anything into a delicacy it seems."

With that the Captain left, leaving Ryley standing in the middle of the hallway completely unsure of what to do. Curiously he looked around the hall once more, then at his things, then heard his stomach grumble and looked down at it in surprise. When was the last time he'd eaten again? He grimaced. It had been a while, he realized. Sleep sounded tempting, but no. This could finally be the chance he'd been waiting for, and he couldn't screw it up. He could forgo sleep for a night or two. He'd done it before. He'd gone as long as four! Admittedly he'd promised himself he'd never do it again, but that was beside the point. The point was forgoing one night of sleep—or was this going on two? Three?—wasn't new to him. Eating, though, was kind of pertinent to keeping up his energy, so he supposed he was off to the kitchen. He set his things down in the hall—because setting them in a cabin would mean staring at a comfy bed, which would only tempt him to crawl in—and went to find the location in question.

Subnautica

The kitchen wasn't too hard to discover. He reached it in about ten minutes after stumbling around blindly for a while—so much for the map being easy to find—and peered inside. It was dark, but he could make out two or three small tables with chairs, a counter, and a back room that was probably the cooking space. There was likely a food storage area in there, but it sounded like someone was shuffling around. Probably this 'Ozzy' the Captain had spoken of. He approached the counter carefully. He couldn't exactly call out, and a random sound would just spook the guy, so he set about scouting for anything that might have been left out so he wouldn't have to startle the ship's cook.

There wasn't much to be gleaned. It seemed they'd run pretty low on supplies, and he'd seen a fair bit of damage around the ship, so it was possible they'd gotten lost somewhere in space for a while or went through an asteroid belt or meteor shower, but there were still scraps around. Like this nutrient block he'd just found behind something. Needless to say, it looked like it had been there a while. He stared dubiously at it, wondering if eating it would kill him or not. As he stood there pondering the actions and consequences of putting a block of questionable quality into his mouth, the kitchen door opened. He didn't hear it. Nor did he hear when someone froze and caught their breath.

"Who the hell are you?" a voice suddenly demanded from behind.

Ryley started and whipped around, eyes wide. He blinked at the man in surprise. The stranger was well-built. A bit rough looking with short red hair. Not small but not gigantic either. Probably about six foot five or so, maybe a little more. He looked about how you'd expect, but also not at all like you'd expect. For instance, you wouldn't have expected the tattoo all the way up his arm, or the ear hole in the ear opposite said tattooed arm. Not a normal piercing, an outright hole. Ryley shifted, unsure how to respond to this, then held the nutrient block towards the man in question. The man stared at the block incredulously. "What, you offerin' it to me or askin' if you can eat it? I wouldn't advise either kid, now who the hell are you?" Ryley pulled out the piece of paper he'd written his name on and handed it over. "Whatsamatter? Can't talk?" the man asked, taking the paper and glancing over it. "Ryley huh? Sounds like a girl's name." Ryley blinked, then frowned, unimpressed. "Easy. I'm kiddin' ya. Ryley's about as unisex as it can get." Ryley huffed, snatching back the paper. "Yikes. Got a temper on you I see. Touchy, touchy. Seriously, what are you doin' here? Who even are you? Stowaway? Thief?"

Ryley lay the paper down and began writing furiously on it before handing it back. The man took it. "Captain invited you on, huh? Guess he figured cheap labour. What, you doin' this for a meal?" Ryley scowled, balling his fists, and looking ready to deck the man. "Fiery little shrimp, ain'cha?" Ryley went for the deck. The man caught his fist, smirking in amusement more than anything. "Okay, okay, I get the picture. I'll shut up. Sorry. Not a lot of people mesh with my personality. A little too outspoken for 'em. Maybe kinda careless with words too. Look, I really don't mean ta be insulting. Just comes across that way sometimes. Besides, you can't deny it's just… weird. Seeing someone like you, well, anywhere. Alterra tends to hide 'em away. Ryley gave him a hard and insulted look. "You know what I mean. Look, you hungry or what?" Ryley, glaring, soon sighed in frustration, reigning in his temper, and nodded. "Okay. I'll whip you up somethin'. You a new hire or Hollister just recruiting your services as a one-time deal?" Ryley held up one finger. "Impress him and it might be a regular thing. He usually docks up here whenever he gets back from a trip. One of the best hubs on offer. He ain't shy with his pay, so I promise you'll be goin' home plenty pleased after he compensates you."

Ryley shrugged and took the paper, writing something down on it. The man picked it up, reading it through. "You figure he'll probably cheap out? Why? 'Cause of what you are? Nah, Hollister ain't like that. He's a good guy. Fair as fair can be. He'll pay you whatever he would have paid anyone else, I guarantee it. Don't even worry about that. He's not gonna scam ya. Full meal or snack?" Ryley indicated something small with his fingers. Mostly because he didn't dare ask for more. "Full meal it is then," the man said, smirking with a playful glint in his eyes. Ryley blinked in surprise and couldn't help but smile a little. "Name's Ozzy. Nice ta meet 'cha." Ryley nodded and sat on one of the stools to wait. "I come from a little backwater town somewhere in the south of Alterra territory. Probably wouldn't recognize the name even if I told you, so I won't bother. Got hired on with Hollister at eighteen. Was lookin' for a job so I could save up for college. The old man wanted me to get into a trade. I just wanted to cook. Guess he didn't figure culinary school was masculine enough. He was always a hardcase. Never liked that I was more into cooking than metalworking. Blamed my mom for it and well, I'll spare you the details. That's getting a little too personal for casual conversation with a stranger. Anyway, figured pleasing the old man would spare the old lady, so began saving up to get into a cooking program on the sly. Figured I'd just tell dad I'd gone into plumbing or carpentry or somethin'. Hollister noticed my penchant for kitchen while I was working as a mechanic for him, 'cause I figured tellin' my father I was a mechanic would satisfy him. The Captain was impressed. Decided he couldn't go back to eating like he had been before he brought me on, so hired me at the close of our first expedition together. Probably helped that I spilled a few too many of my woes to him one drunken night. He doesn't seem it, but the guy is real supportive. Advocates chasing your dreams. Figures there's no time to be held down by Alterra's corporate bull. He was never one for the whole 'work until you die whether you like your job or not' thing. He's more the 'work until you die only if you love your job that much' type. Anyway, the job earned me more than enough to get through culinary school and netted me this full-time gig afterwards, so here we are."

He glanced at Ryley to see a response. Ryley was scribbling something and soon handed if over. Ozzy grabbed it, reading through. "How did my old man take it? Pfft, who says I ever told him? Far as he knows, I'm still a mechanic. I mean, I'm not incompetent when it comes to stuff like that. Could have probably been a damn good one, honestly. It's just not where my passion lies. My passion lies here." He gestured around. Ryley gave it an incredulous once over. "Okay, so it's not all that impressive, but one day I'll upgrade. Maybe own my own place. Little café on a corner street or up in space," Ozzy said, leaning on the counter with a friendly smile on his face as he waited for whatever he was cooking to finish up.

Ryley couldn't help but smile back. He liked this man, he decided. Ozzy was good at filling the silence, and that was something Ryley could really appreciate. Especially in a society where everyone usually just tended to make the silence weird like they expected one day he'd suddenly burst into speech. Hey, if there was a fix for it, he'd love to find said fix. Far as he knew there wasn't though, and Alterra wasn't going to waste resources researching one. This was the hand he'd been dealt, so he had to make the most of it. It wasn't like he was ashamed of it. It was just inconvenient.

"What about you? Any story of woe to share with old Ozzy?" Ozzy asked. Ryley snorted incredulously. "Okay, maybe not old, but you get the picture." Ryley watched the man carefully, trying to figure out how much he was willing to share. "Hey, your secrets are safe with me. Goodness knows how many of 'em I'm holdin'. Probably gonna end up taking most to my grave. Life of a bartender slash café owner." Ozzy cracked a can of something and gave it to him. Ryley picked it up, considering his answer, then took the paper again, examining it. He blinked when Ozzy slid him some more sheets and glanced up at the man curiously. Ozzy smirked. "Take your time," he said with a wink. "I've got cookin' to do anyway." He turned his back and set to work again, and Ryley watched a moment before looking at the paper once more. After a couple minutes of thinking it over, he sighed and began to write while sipping at the can of what he'd now determined to be alcohol.

Subnautica

Ozzy read through the story of woe solemnly as Ryley ate the food he'd been given. Finally, Ozzy lowly whistled. "Sounds like you need another beer about as much as I do. Maybe more," he said, sliding his new companion a second can of the stuff. Ryley gave him a curious look. "Okay. Since you've shared your whole life story, might as well elaborate a bit on mine. Explain myself a little," Ozzy said, perching on the counter. You know when I said my dad blamed my mom for me bein' so interested in cooking? He got back at her by beatin' her regularly. Figured it was just punishment. If he saw me foolin' around in the kitchen or doin' something he decided wasn't 'manly' enough, I got the same treatment. Sometimes got it just for the laughs too. He was a real creep. Guess it wasn't totally his fault though. Usually, you only end up like that if you've been raised like that. I mean, it's his fault he couldn't be bothered try'na break the cycle, but hey, whatever. That job's fallin' to me now, and I'm tellin' ya, Ry, if I ever have kids of my own, they're gonna be raised nothin' like I was. Or my father."

Ryley tilted his head curiously as if asking a question and pointed at the word 'family' on the paper. "Nah. I don't got a family. Haven't really had much time to pursue one," Ozzy said. "Up in space most of the time, and it's generally not a great idea to get involved with your coworkers. I mean I'm not gonna condemn it, heck one day I might even be there, but it ain't somethin' I'm sold on. Too many risks."

Ryley hesitated then pointed at the words disabled and children. "Hey, what do I care if my kid has some kind of disability? If I have the knowhow to handle it, or my wife does, then we will. Especially after hearing your backstory." Ryley wrote something. "What do I mean by knowhow? I guess I mean there are some, well, difficulties I'll call 'em, that I just don't have the ability to handle. Look, I'm not a smart person, okay? And while I'm usually patient, it's not necessarily in the way I'd have ta be to handle somethin' that complicated. Like, real, real complicated. There's… there's a point where you'd just be doin' a kid a disservice hangin' on when you clearly can't do it. Can't give 'em what they need, can't deal with them like you need to, can't be…" He trailed off. "Can't be good enough," he finally said quietly. There was silence a moment as Ryley watched him with some sympathy. He guessed he could kind of get that. In challenging cases. Mutism didn't count as challenging though. Ozzy shook his head and forced a smile. "It takes a special kinda person to properly raise a kid that has somethin' that big goin' on inside. I'm not that kind of special person. Doesn't mean I wouldn't love it or go visit it or try to be some kinda presence in its life, it just means I'd be letting someone who actually knows what they're doin' deal with the stuff I can't." Ryley was quiet, considering this. After a moment, Ozzy sighed. "Hey, I'm headin' to bed. You should too, once you've finished up. Help yourself to whatever you want, okay?"

Ryley looked concerned and shook his head, then quickly wrote something down and handed it over to him. Ozzy took it and glanced through. A smirk pulled at the man's lips. "Hey, it's not your fault. You didn't do anything, and you're not scarin' me off. It's been a hell of a trip is all. I'm way overdo for some shuteye. It wasn't the happiest note to end a conversation on, I'll give ya that, and yeah maybe I'm goin' to bed a little sad, but it's also a big relief y'know? To get some of that baggage off my chest. Usually I'm the one collecting other peoples' baggage. Not too often I can unload my own, so honestly, I wanna thank you for that." Ryley nodded, clearly not convinced. "Hey, it's fine," Ozzy said, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder gently. Ryley blinked at the hand, then at him in open surprise, looking almost overwhelmed. Ozzy's smile fell. "That rare for you, huh?" he said. "I get that. Maybe not as bad, but I mean, a kind human touch wasn't exactly somethin' my dad advocated. Mom was pretty good at it though." Ryley nodded. Ozzy smiled and stood. "Have a good night, okay?"

Ryley nodded again and watched after the man as he left. It had been a long time since he'd had any sort of meaningful conversation with anyone. Had he ever had any sort of meaningful conversation with anyone, he worriedly wondered? He couldn't even think of one off the top of his head. This was… new. Really, really new. He wasn't sure how he felt about it. He was used to being treated like a blight, not like a human, and now that he was experiencing the other side, it was kind of unnerving. Not in a bad way, but still. Unnerving.

Subnautica

Ryley wasted no time in throwing himself into his work, determined to impress and please the Captain that had given him this chance to prove himself. The conversation with Ozzy, and the food, had refreshed him, so now he was doubling down on his efforts. He left no surface unwiped, no floor unscrubbed. He left no broken piece of tech unaccounted for and if it was something he didn't know how to fix, he did as much as he could to make others' jobs easier later. He worked nonstop for hours until he was ready to drop dead from exhaustion, but he had to do this right. He had to! He had to prove to Hollister, to himself, to everyone, that he was worth something and that this hadn't all been for nothing.

He didn't feel the eyes on him until he was exhaustedly scrubbing off the last bits of dirt from the sides of the ship, barely able to stand anymore. Exhaustion was written on his face and bags were heavy under his eyes, so he hadn't even heard the man come out. If asked, he couldn't have told you how long Hollister had been watching before finally speaking up. "Robinson!" he said. Ryley froze in place when he heard the voice and quickly turned, eyes wide. "How long have you been out here doing this?" Ryley was still, considering his answer. Sheepishly he held up ten fingers. The 'hours' part was surmised. "Did you sleep at all last night?" Hollister demanded. Ryley hesitated, then shook his head. "Then get to bed! Now! No crew of mine, temporary or not, is going to drop dead from exhaustion on my watch. You've done just about all there is to do, now no more! For goodness' sake, the ship hasn't looked this good since it was new. I didn't ask you to restore it to a showroom state. Sleep. Now." Ryley opened his mouth as if to make a sound of protest. "No! I don't want to hear it. Bed."

Ryley closed his mouth, shifted, looked up at the ship once more, then defeatedly back at Hollister. Had he blown this, he uncertainly wondered? Was there a such thing as being too good or too thorough when it came to ships? Were debris and dirt and scratches like battle scars or badges of honor? Had he disrespected the man by making sure the thing was spotless? Bowing his head, he moved passed the captain to go towards home. "Where are you going? I meant on my ship."

Ryley winced, looking sheepishly at him, then hurried inside said ship to sleep in one of the cabins there. He had to pass by Ozzy's café, he realized, and he hesitated a bit. Had he been too direct or open last night? Had he scared the man off? He uncertainly made his way passed it, glancing in and half hoping Ozzy didn't notice. Ozzy's back was turned to him, and the man was admiring the café in disbelief, shocked at how spotless it was. Quietly Ryley tried to tiptoe passed.

"Ryley, hey, hold on! Did you really do all this last night?" Ozzy suddenly asked. Ryley froze, wincing, and sheepishly turned to the man, nodding tentatively. "This is amazing! The place has never looked so good. You even got the stupid coffee machine to work properly again! You got some tech knowhow you held out on me about." Ryley, surprised at the response, grinned awkwardly, not sure how he was supposed to react. "Did you sleep last night?" Ozzy asked, suddenly looking concerned. Ryley shifted. "Seriously? You're crazier than Keen!" Ozzy said. Ryley tilted his head curiously. "Second Officer. Not important right now. Come on. I'll bring you to the cabins. Get you settled in an open room. You can't do stuff like this to yourself. You know that, right?" Ryley shrugged in a way that implied he did in fact know that, just didn't really care. "You should probably take it to heart," Ozzy sternly said, leading the way. Ryley followed, quiet. He wasn't used to being cared about like this. First Hollister, now Ozzy? Honestly it was really weirding him out. In only good ways. "Here we are. Room right next to mine so if you need anything, you know where I am," Ozzy said.

He opened the door to the empty cabin and Ryley stepped inside, looking around the room he'd been deposited in. That Ozzy had put him right next to his own room was honestly kind of touching. He looked back at Ozzy and clasped his hands together gratefully. Ozzy smirked. "No problem. Now for goodness sakes get some rest already. I'll see ya later." Waving, he left. Ryley shut the door behind him and turned to the bed. Upon seeing it, a wave of exhaustion washed over him. Tiredly he made his way over and collapsed onto the covers…