The perfect crewman maintained discipline, even while being unjustly struck by his superior officer. Meanwhile, the veteran captain of almost a decade and a half lost his temper and punched a junior officer like he was some kind of green recruit.
There were strict military standards for subordinates who struck their superiors. But in some ways, the standards for superiors who struck their subordinates were just as stringent. Striking a superior marked you as insubordinate, possibly even mutinous.
Striking a subordinate without justification, one who couldn't fight back, marked you as a coward. A bully.
Dax stayed sprawled as he'd landed on his bed, sheet barely covering his modesty. He didn't so much as reach up to feel the bruise forming on his cheekbone, and showed no sign it pained him.
The sight sent a surge of guilt through Aiden, particularly considering the . . . circumstances between him and the construct. But he couldn't admit he might've made a mistake, not just with this scuffle but possibly even by sticking his nose into a personal matter that was none of his business.
Instead, he turned and strode away.
Ali was waiting in his quarters when he returned. At his expression, her face immediately fell, and she rushed to wrap her arms around him in silent comfort. “She's screwing the gunner,” he told her woodenly.
His companion didn't look surprised, and for a suspicious moment he wondered if that was because she'd known, or just because she thought that was the reaction he wanted from her. “Oh, my love. I'm so sorry.” She began rubbing his back soothingly.
Aiden turned his head away. He couldn't look at her, could barely stand her presence at the moment. He stepped back and began working to take off his uniform without her help. “Please find other duties to occupy you. I'd like to be alone tonight.”
Ali went without a word, leaving him to finish undressing and curl up in bed, more numb than anything.
Maybe this was the right time for this. All his bridges burning in this galaxy, and possibly on this ship as well. Making a fresh start in a new galaxy, one hopefully without this Deek manhunt looming over his head.
A bit of breathing room while he waged his private war on the Movement would be nice.
* * * * *
“It's fine,” Dax said, trying to wave away Lana's attempts to fuss over his bruise.
Either she was getting better at reading his stony features, or he was loosening up and letting himself show more of what he felt, but she thought he looked embarrassed. Which he had no reason for, since none of this was his fault.
“It's not fine!” Lana snapped. “He found out we were together and punched you in the face! How is that in any way okay?”
“It's not,” he admitted. “But that's on his shoulders, not mine.”
She sighed and curled up with him on his bed, head on his chest, warmth spreading through her when he put his strong arms around her and held her close. “He's not going to try to stop us, is he?” she murmured.
Dax hesitated. “I don't know,” he admitted. “He has no grounds to according to ship's rules, but then again those rules frown on unjustified punching of subordinates, too.”
“I won't let him,” she declared. “You're the only thing good in my life.”
His eyes softened, and he kissed the top of her head, lips soft against her sweaty hair. “You're going to protect me?” He sounded slightly amused, but also charmed.
Lana felt her cheeks flush. She knew Dax had taken down a combat android on his own, which was no surprise considering what she knew about him. Meanwhile, she'd been lucky to even point her cauterizer in the right direction.
But when it came to his feelings, the vulnerable man beneath that hard shell of his, he wasn't some super crewman. He needed someone to protect him where he couldn't protect himself. “I am,” she said firmly. “Even if he tosses me off the ship through an airlock. You're worth fighting for.”
“So are you, so I guess he'll have to toss us both off.”
Lana sighed and settled against him, absently kissing his shoulder. “Have you ever thought of leaving?” she mused.
“All the time. But I've never planned for it.” At her surprised look, Dax shrugged uncomfortably. “It's not just my mental conditioning, either. It may sound crazy to you, but even with how the Captain's treated me I . . . respect him. I respect his war. And I want to do my part to stop the Deconstructionist Movement.”
She sighed again. Even now, for some reason, she didn't want to leave the Last Stand. Not really. Not even if she could leave with Dax. “Maybe we can talk him into being reasonable. Even after what he did, I don't really think he's a bad person.”
“Aside from you, he's one of the best people I know,” her lover agreed, then sighed. “Which isn't saying much, is it?” Lana snickered, but before she could reply he kept going. “Is it okay if we stop talking about him? This night has been amazing, better than I could've ever hoped for. I just want to enjoy it.”
Well, she could certainly agree with that. Not to mention she was exhausted, both from the battle and the incredible night she'd already had with Dax. So she settled down against his side, soaking in the feel of being with him, and allowed herself to drift to sleep.
In spite of everything that had happened, with him there next to her she could let herself believe things were going to turn out just fine.
Epilogue
Crewman
The screams, torn reluctantly from an arrogant throat, were delightfully cathartic.
Rear Admiral Novan Granoss couldn't help but wonder what genius in the distant past had decided to abolish corporal punishment as a disciplinary and motivational tool. Probably motivated by some whiny emotional argument by spineless civilians, who had no concept
