Hard Luck Hermit

It took a long time for Tooley to get her hands clean after she was done with Vansis. As soon as the last drop of scarlet red was off her hands, Tooley stomped out of the washroom, breezed right past a waiting Corey, and went to the cockpit, slamming the door shut behind her. Unfortunately for Tooley, her attempt at self-isolation was thwarted by Kamak already being in the cockpit, idly browsing his datapad.

“Don’t slam doors on my ship.”

“Fuck you, captain,” Tooley said. She slammed herself down into the pilot’s seat with an exasperated sigh, and stared out the window.

The dim light of a dying star dominated their view. They were just far enough from the great dwarf star to avoid frying the Hard Luck Hermit’s system, and just close enough that the radiation hid their vessel’s signature. Supposedly. Kamak claimed someone had taught him just the right spot, but refused to say who.

“So where to next, cap?”

“I’m still thinking,” Kamak said. Getting on the bad side of cops anywhere usually meant getting on the bad side of cops everywhere. They had to pick a good place to lie low for a while. Their analysis of Vansis’ cells had turned up nothing useful, so they once again found themselves with no leads.

“Looking for a place to find a new pilot?”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“I know a storm when I see it coming, Kamak,” Tooley said. “You were looking to get rid of me before you knew psychopaths were after me.”

“I was, and frankly, I still am,” Kamak said. “But right now I can’t be picky. There’s psychopaths after all of us, bad time to try and bring on a new hire. Least with you I know you’re too scared of those fascist fuckboys on your tail to try and ditch me.”

The Structuralist’s chasing Tooley were just one piece of the puzzle. There were still other, unknown parties out for blood. Ditching Tooley would only lose them a fraction of the danger tailing the Hard Luck Hermit, and cost them a pilot they might not be able to replace in exchange. Kamak hated Tooley’s guts, but he wasn’t dumb enough to kick her out when he needed her most. After a few seconds of quiet contemplation, Tooley’s throat let forth a disgusting noise as she tried to chuckle and grunt with disgust at the same time.

“I hope you hate this as much as I do,” she groaned.

“Yeah, I do,” Kamak said. “But I got enough enemies already. I got your back if you have mine.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m not letting anyone kill you if I can help it,” Tooley said. She got out of her seat and left the cockpit in a hurry. Now that she didn’t need to worry about getting kicked off the ship, she could focus on other, more important things. She found Corey looking mopey in the common room and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him towards her room. He managed to stumble to his feet fast enough to follow along instead of getting dragged.

While Corey wished it were under better circumstances, it was nice to get a good look at Tooley’s chambers. It might have offered some insights, were the room not entirely and exactly what he had expected. The already cramped space was further constrained by a pile of discarded trash in one corner and dirty clothes in the other. Corey very nearly tripped on an empty bottle as Tooley pushed him towards her bed.

“Tooley-”

“Come on, Corvash, you know how this works,” Tooley said, as she threw her shirt at him.

“Tooley, you still smell like blood,” Corey said.

“Is that a turn off for you?”

“Yes!”

“Pussy,” Tooley said. “I can take another run through the cleanser if it bothers you that much.”

“There’s kind of a lot bothering me right now and a cleanse can’t fix most of it,” Corey said.

“What’s your problem, then?”

“All this shit with your homeworld and the Structuralists, and the genocide, I mean jesus christ,” Corey said. “How are you not bothered?”

“Because it’s not my fucking problem,” Tooley said. “Not beyond the lunatic thought police trying to kill me, I mean. Homeworld’s just a heap of rocks and water I happened to be born on. Why would I give a fuck what someone else thinks or does just because they were born on the same rock as me?”

Tooley retrieved a half-full bottle of some form of liquor from a storage nook and sat down on her bed to take a big swig.

“All the ethnic cleansing and thought policing and the rest of the bullshit pisses me off, too, but I just get away from it and live my fucking life. Big universe, Corvash, there’s always some fucker out there doing something,” she said. “Everybody in existence picks their chunk of things to care about and ignores the ten trillion other problems that exist. I picked my chunk and it doesn’t include Turitha or anyone on it.”

She washed the name of her homeworld out of her mouth with liquor, and hoped she’d never have to say it again any time soon. Corey watched the bottle get much emptier very quickly.

“So what’s in your ‘chunk’?”

“Eh, fuck you fishing for compliments,” Tooley said. “But yeah, you’re in it. Doprel and Farsus, I guess. Got an old drinking buddy named Raguv I’d be pretty sad to hear died too.”

Tooley took a quick sip and then tapped the bottle against the wall of her room.

“Hermit’s not half bad either,” she said. “When I get my own ship it’ll be a little more sleek, but he’s got it where it counts.”

The bottle moved in Corey’s direction next, though he refused it. Tooley didn’t bother offering twice.

“More for me,” she said. “So. You satisfied, Corey?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” he said. He still had doubts, but he had neither the reason nor desire to try and draw Tooley into some long conversation about his own feelings.

“Good. So are you going to fuck me or what?”

“Not really in the mood, Tooley.”

“Good for you! Then get out of my room,” Tooley said. “Not a lot of space in here and your ass is taking up too much of it.”

“You know, if you cleaned up-”

“Now you really need to get the hell out,” Tooley snapped. Corey obeyed.