Chapter Text
Trekking across a dangerous alien planet should be amazing for the Captain, but it gets a bit stale when the third planet’s apex predator tries to use your foot as a chew toy - again. Fine, maybe they're not all planets; maybe some are asteroids, but they're still a foreign floating rock for the Captain. It's a real shame that the prettiest sight she's seen, an asteroid with light soil mixed with glowing blue grasses and high cliffs, is the birthplace of one of the worst incidents in the whole colony. Now, she's stuck on Monarch.
The Captain stares at the unblinking eyes as the beast’s blood soaks into the tan soil - her work - and can't help but be reminded of the coldness of space. Being from Earth, the Captain never dreamed of boarding a colonizing ship and setting for a distant solar system, let alone that creatures could exist out here. Although, they're technically not aliens. She just slept through the settlement's scientists prodding new life forms to adapt to their terraformed planets while the Captain cryoslept in the aether, her ship thought to be lost to the vastness of space.
Nevermind that she woke up seventy years too late, alone and forgotten. Nevermind that the only reason she woke up was thanks to a mad scientist finding her lost ship, thinking that Earth minds could save the colony that the first and second generation space kids were driving into the ground. Nevermind that she's on a wild goose hunt for said scientist. Nevermind that the fate of her shipmates (and the whole colony, if the scientist is to be believed) rests on her shoulders. Nevermind that no one believes her when she dares confide her story. Nevermind that everyone she loves on Earth is dead by now.
“Boss?” a voice calls out, cutting off the Captain's moping.
Her head moves to the right, barely, as she startles out of her trance. Spacing out again, she thinks. “What is it, Felix?” Her voice crackles as it transfers through her helmet, making her sound harsher than she means. That seems to happen a lot, maybe she should start taking her helmet off at settlements. Though, since all of Byzantium shoots at her on sight, that's probably a bad idea.
“I was just asking if we should take these logs back to the ship before we get attacked…” the man looks down at the beast that lays before them, “...again.”
Right, the ship. “Her” ship. The one she stole off a dead guy, with “her” crew inside. The ones she plucked from their previous lives. They may have asked to join, but that won't stop the Captain’s guilt for dragging them into her mess. A bloodthirsty vicar, a wide-eyed rascal, a sweet mechanic, and a reliable automaton. The Captain's own ragtag group of freelancers, ready for anything. At least, that's what they'd have you believe.
The Captain stands and turns, so the dead beast stays out of her vision and, hopefully, out of her mind. She stares into Felix’s eyes, the damned hazel eyes she always softens at, which she shouldn't be able to do. But, he has his helmet off, on an alien planet, in the middle of the hostile wilderness - again.
“Right now I'm more concerned that I can make eye contact with you than some data log’s safety.”
“Oh, c’mon, boss!” Felix groans as he rolls his eyes, his shoulders deflating under her stare, “We just got out of a fight, no one’s stupid enough to start anything after seeing us lay down a mantiqueen like that!” He gestures to the giant insect behind the Captain. She refuses to turn, to see her work again. Her earlier comparison of a praying mantis was lost on all her companions, yet she can't help but feel that she squashed a harmless bug for no reason. “Besides,” he starts, “then I couldn't charm anyone with my dashing good looks.” Felix winks and the Captain quickly avoids eye contact. Luckily for her, her smooth helmet makes it appear as though she's deadpan staring. Maybe keeping it on is worth the loss of tone indicators.
“You'd be surprised of the fidelity that marauders dedicate to their stupidity.” Max chimes in, choosing to ignore Felix’s last statement. The Captain can always rely on Max to say fluffy, wise, guiding words. His previous priestly duties coming in handy.
“Yeah, yeah,” Felix says and he begins to put his helmet on, his words slowly getting sharper with radio crackle, “whatever you and your fancy words say, Max.”
Sad she has to stare at his ugly helmet again, which looks like an old diving headpiece (again, her Earth comparison was lost on her space-born crew), yet thankful it keeps him safe and allows her concentration, the Captain starts towards the distant mountain. “Let's get a move on, I want to make camp before it's dark.”