As Milo entered the Nest, the forward panel of holo-screens briefly flickered off then filled with ship schematics and diagrams. They all looked convincingly complicated and important. Suspended in his grav-spindle, Bobby's fingers twiddled meaningfully at this or that.
Milo settled into a spindle to Bobby's right. Made from shapeshifting synthetics, it resembled a hammock pitched at a steep upward angle. The spindles were an impressive piece of overengineering. When activated, they enveloped their occupants in a shock-absorbing cocoon, an early precursor to the ones they had ridden to space in. Not that the Moonlighter was ever likely to engage in high-speed maneuvers. These were test models. Once they served their data-collecting purpose, it hadn't been cost effective to remove them, so here they remained.
Bobby had taken over the empty Nest like a spider. Unlike the rest of the ageing ship, the communications hub had seen multiple upgrades over the years, and he had access to the latest sat links and holo-tech. As an added perk, the spindle was easier on his bones than a regular chair.
"You can stop acting," Milo said, motioning to the screens. "I caught a glimpse of the game you were playing when I came in."
"You're one to talk. Acting is literally in your title." Bobby rotated to face him. "How did you—oh, Jake must have given you the override codes."
"You know, I used to dabble a bit in the d-realms myself," Milo said.
"I once held a basketball," Bobby shot back. "That doesn't make me a player. What's your point?"
Milo shrugged. "Just talking."
"Let me guess, Jake suggested to find something in common we could bond over. Maybe swap stories about all the cheerleaders we laid back on Earth."
"Two," Milo said. "Which was one too many. As for Jake, he said to give you some space. He wanted to work things out with you himself. Has he banded you yet?"
Bobby turned back to the holo-screens. With a flip of a hand, they switched to a scene of a shattered planet. Pieces of its crust drifted in its wake like scattered cornflakes while molten lumps budded off the exposed mantle. Mechanized robots sniped and battled each other between the debris. His hands curled around virtual joysticks, firing missiles from a shoulder-mounted launcher. "I must have been busy."
"It's not just me you're blowing off then," Milo said. "That's reassuring in a way." So much for the tactful approach. He pulled up the shipnet on his phlex and navigated to the Nest controls. Somewhere in here, there must be...
"Hey, what the fuck—" Bobby exclaimed as the shock-absorbing spindle curled around his body in a protective cocoon, pressing his arms into his chest. His missiles fired wildly, and his force-shields flashed as he took incoming laser fire. A moment later, his mecha exploded in a shower of sparks and mechanical bits.
"Wow, that actually worked," Milo said.
"It's not funny," Bobby squirmed against his squishy prison. "You could have broken my fucking arms."
"It's a shock cushion. It's not going to break anything. I just wanted to have a conversation—you know, that thing where two people take turns talking and listening to each other."
"Oh, I don't think you want to hear what I have to say."
"Try me," Milo said. "Ten minutes. We'll have a little heart-to-heart and then you can go back to busting up planets. Deal?"
Bobby tried in vain to pry the shock cushion open. Someone with normal strength could have managed it easily. His phlex was sitting on the console out of reach. "Do I have a choice?"
"Not unless you want to spend the night in burrito mode."
Bobby smiled ingratiatingly. "Ok, fine. Let's talk."
Milo deactivated the shock cushion. Watching Bobby rub his arms, he feared he might have hurt him after all. But after a moment, Bobby waved off the screens and said, "Clock's ticking."
"Care to tell me about the water heater malfunction?" Milo asked.
"Bad sensor relay," Bobby said. "No big deal."
"No big deal? I just spent the last thirty minutes getting my ass chewed by station command. They wanted to run an all-system diagnostic."
"I told Jess not to file an incident report," Bobby said. "You know how they are. If someone farts, they have us checking for gas leaks."
"Listen, Bobby. I know this may be amusing for you, but I need to know if something is seriously wrong with the ship, or if it was just you and Jess screwing around."
Bobby sighed. "I thought it would be a bit of fun for her. It was just supposed to stay between us. I didn't expect Vivian to pull the panic cord and scream bloody fucking murder."
Milo nodded. "Well, don't do it again. I don't need Paranoid Station on my ass for anything else."
Bobby saluted. "Aye, acting captain. Is that all?"
Milo's better judgment told him to leave well enough alone. He'd gotten the answer he came for. But curiosity got the better of him. "What did you mean when you said I wouldn't like what you had to say. Is there something else you're not telling me?"
"Are you sure you want to open up this can of worms?" Bobby said.
"I think I can handle a few worms."
"Chew on this then. Ever wonder why our docu-stream got cancelled after the pilot?"
"I thought it was pretty obvious," Milo said. "Low viewer numbers."
"But why were the numbers so low? All the market research said it was going to be a big hit. We even had our not-so-secret weapon, the queen of the streams herself."
"Guess we're not as exciting as we think we are."
"There's that. And there's also the fact that SexZero came out the same week."
"SexZero," Milo said. "Is that the stream where..."
"People put on face-morphs and have sex in zero-g with total strangers. At first it was just couples, but now they're holding battle royale sex fights. Know how many viewers our pilot got? About a million and a half. And most of those were because of Vee. SexZero? Over forty million viewers and counting. They're building a larger arena in New Vegas with one-way glass so people can watch in person. Tickets are going for millions. So there you go. People would rather watch strangers fucking than cripples doing real jobs. Can't say I blame them."
Milo didn't want to believe it, but it had the ring of truth. "That's a pretty cynical way of looking at it."
"I'm just being real," Bobby said. "Come on, you must know this mission is bullshit."
"The docu-stream? Yeah, that was a bust. So what? It was only a side hustle. We've still got a job to do, and it's a damn important one. We're operating a multi-billion-dollar spaceship. The moonbase is counting on us to deliver essential supplies."
"Billion-dollar spaceship, right," Bobby smirked. "The Moonlighter may have cost that much a quarter of a century ago when it was put into service. But now it's just a floating wreck held together by duct tape and the prayers of the righteous."
"And we should be grateful to have it," Milo said. "It's not like they're just handing out space transports. We always knew it would be an uphill battle to gain the respect of space command and show them we're just as good as any other crew out here. And that stunt you pulled earlier isn't helping our case."
Bobby snorted. "Respect, whatever."
Milo sensed there was more festering beneath the surface. "What's this pissy attitude really about? Ever since Jake left, you've been acting like an irresponsible child."
"It's a fly-by-wire operation." Bobby said.
"What do you mean?"
"The whole operation is meant to run on autopilot with a little help from station command. We make a couple loop-de-loos around the moon and come straight back. Vee does a PR sesh or two along the way. Once we're back at the station, they throw us a little party with cake and balloons. Woo-hoo! Look at how the cripples conquered space together. Now beam them back home before someone gets hurt."
"What are you talking about? We signed on for a nine-month stint with possible extensions. This is just our first resupply run."
"Nine months—maybe more like nine days," Bobby scoffed. "Seriously, when are you going to get a clue? The moon is receiving most of its supplies by unmanned space-tug now. The Moonlighter is no longer—what's the phrase?—cost effective. This was just the Jake show all along. Another first to add to his growing collection. First captain of a handicapped crew—hurrah! But here's the thing. To be first, you only have to do something once. What's the point of a second trip?"
"Jake told you this?"
"Of course not. He's not an idiot. It would be 'demoralizing to the crew.' But if you don't believe me, just look at the ship manifests. Aside from the shuttle, the Moonlighter is virtually cargo-less. What's the point of running a resupply mission without supplies?"
Milo felt a sense of relief. So that's what this was all about. Bobby really had him going there for a minute. "The supplies didn't make it from Earthside in time," he explained, which was half of the truth. The other half had to do with the shuttle, but he wasn't authorized to tell Bobby about that. "So it was either spend another two weeks at dock or go with what we had and fill up on the return."
Bobby wasn't buying it. "I see they've got you drinking the Kool Aid."
"Maybe you're right," Milo changed tack. "But there's no way to know for sure until we get back to Paranor Station, is there? And if you're wrong, your fuck-off attitude is going to get you kicked out of the fleet, and probably get the rest of us booted too."
"You're afraid I'll make you look bad, is that it? Ruin your chances of becoming a real space captain someday."
Milo shrugged if off. "Naw, I'll blame it on Jake. He's the one who picked you."
"Bastard." But Bobby's tone lightened. "I bet you already have my replacement picked out."
"Don't I wish," Milo said, only half-joking. "So here's the deal. You can do whatever you want on your personal time and PT too. I'll make up some excuse for lab duty, and it's no secret Jess is already doing most of your maintenance tasks. But you'll show up for team time and play nice with the crew. You'll keep one ear on comms at all times, and you'll watch over every system on this ship like a guardian angel. If one little LED light goes blinky-blinky, I want to know. No more malfunctions. None. Do we have an understanding?"
"Is this the part where we spit on our hands and shake?"
"Let's just say we did."