Archive of Our Own ^beta

There was an unusual level of quiet clouding the Capella that day. Throughout the spaceship, the only sounds audible were the muffled hum of the engine underneath the floor, and the gentle rattle of the furniture affected by it. Apparently, the rest of her crew had come to a silent consensus: today wasn’t the day for mundane tasks.

No children were out yelling people’s ears off, there were no obnoxious bugs, chittering and scratching at the ears, and, best of all, no one else who’d cause another inconvenience for William.

All in all, it was shaping up to be a pretty good day.

White - that was his nickname here, thanks to the color of his suit - had been falling behind on his own tasks. Not his fault, of course. It was hard to focus when everyone else was buzzing about the next stop. He preferred to wait for the energy to die down, as it usually did right around now.

It reminded him of those long summers back on Earth. Weeks upon weeks of relentless heat, then a rainstorm rolls in to save the day. The atmosphere on the ship was just that; a quiet, rainy day.

His communicator pinged, snapping him out of his thoughts. He glanced down. Chores for the day!

At that first glance, they weren’t half bad. A check in with the Capella’s auto-pilot in the Navigation sector, as one example. That was a fun one from what he can remember. The Admin table in the Admin sector was due for a system reboot, which involved a stubborn card swiper that, frankly, should’ve been replaced years ago.

External wires also needed untangling, and, to top it all off, he had a medical scan in the Medbay sector. That last one brought him some real joy; the ship’s medic, Dr. Wedgewood, was the closest thing he had to a friend here.

White wasn’t really sure why it decided to give him a wire-related job. The ship’s AI must be able to tell that those more suited for the task are slacking off. Well, that wasn’t his problem anymore. He wasn’t stupid. He can handle those pesky little things himself, contrary to popular opinion.

Even briefly recalling the memory is enough to sour his mood. Blue - the second engineer, had spoken to him as if he were a child throwing a temper tantrum. Gentle parenting. Over wires. God, the audacity.

William scrunched his eyes shut, for just a moment. He couldn’t let it get to him now. He had a job to do, he had to prove that he didn’t need anyone’s help.

He unclenched his jaw and readjusted his glasses, then secured his helmet back on. Technically, while on the ship, it was unnecessary to be fully suited up. White just didn’t want to be bothered while on the job.

A notice eventually sounded through his suit; the blaring told him that it was finally lunch. That felt like it’d taken forever. Fortunately for him, he finished all of his more tedious work for the day. All that was left was his scan, but, now unfortunately for him, the Medbay sector had been closed down since the morning.

Will usually took his lunch with Dr. Wedgewood everyday, so that was already an inconvenience in itself. He was forced out into the cafeteria. Well, honestly, the Cafeteria sector itself wasn’t actually too bad. It was just the people that inhabited it on occasion giving the place a bad reputation in his mind. Apparently he was lucky again though, as it was relatively empty.

Weird. More people should’ve been awake by now. He figured it was weird he didn’t see anyone earlier, either.

He decided not to dwell on it. Will sat down at a table that was decently far away from those who were awake - a distance that would make others seem weird for sitting with him - but still close enough to keep up appearances. He wasn’t overthinking it in the slightest. This seat was perfect.

Will carefully took his helmet off and rested it next to him on the bench.

After briefly inspecting the lunch options, he decided to be grateful for once. He’s glad that Black offered to make him a lunch he’d actually eat - despite the very little he knows about that crewmember - something about the inconsistency of the options’ quality threw him off, more than the person did.

The cooling compartment he had in his suit finally came in handy thanks to them; he could store his personally-made lunch in there and not have to worry about it being contaminated.

Will unzipped said lunchbox from his suit. However, he didn’t open it. Not yet, at least. There was a thought in his head telling him that eating wouldn’t help him think. He can vaguely imagine Dr. Wedgewood commenting on that – something on how abstaining from a meal is what actually slows your brain.

William closed his eyes. A long, drawn-out sigh escaped him.

If the Doctor tells him to eat, what choice does he have?

Boots clanking on the steel floor interrupted him after he opened the lid. They stopped about a few feet behind him, and moved to his right. He wished he didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Mareen was what they called him, a crude mix of the two colors his suit changed. The special, decorated maroon-and-green crewmember; the captain of the Capella. He sat down at White’s table.

Had he seen wrong, or something?

The other tables must’ve been full somehow – why else would he sit with him? Will turnt his head away from the man. Not in shame - to be clear - just out of confusion, of course.

The man titled his helmet slightly, “Ah. Sorry, someone already sittin’ ‘ere?” His blatantly western hat turned with it.

He looked like he was preparing to get up the second White said the word, a little sandwich bag barely visible in one of his hands. Will wasn’t sure how he saw that. Will also wasn’t really sure how to answer his question.

Technically, no, but this was his table he chose. He was sitting here, so, yes. However, at the same time, what if the other tables were actually full? Wouldn’t it be rude of him to turn The Captain away?

“No,” he responded tersely, anxiously rubbing his pointer finger and thumb together.

“Great.”

The table freefalled into an uncomfortable silence, thanks to the unfinished conversation. Fidgeting with his hands did help for a little while, but even then the awkward feeling left him plenty overwhelmed.

White moved to look around the room, noticing immediately that it was not, in fact, full. His stomach dropped.

An obnoxious child burst into the cafeteria just then, attempting to serenade the awoken crew, which didn’t help his mood at all. He started to wish that it was still awkwardly silent - the sudden change in atmosphere was too loud. Too sudden. Too much, for the white crewmember.

Unfortunately, Mareen could tell. Stupid Mareen, why did he even sit with him in the first place?

Will heard him sigh - which would’ve felt patronizing normally, but there were many other things he could worry about before that - and watched him tilt his head again. He didn’t seem too worried, no. Worried wasn’t the correct word. It was more of a disgustingly gentle concern for his well-being.

“Y’sure ye don’t mind?” the cowboy inquired.

“No,” he briefly said again. Following his statement, Mareen stood up.

White quickly corrected himself, “I meant– that I don’t mind.”

“Ah,” he averted his gaze, “... assumed there. My bad.”

There was another moment of silence between them. The room hadn’t gotten any quieter yet. A few choice people had made their way into the cafeteria now, and William couldn’t help but look annoyed all over again.

He started, “Do you mind?”

Mareen tilted his head slightly, which White took as a sign to continue on. He sighed again before beginning.

“For starters, that Tan guy, I can’t even remember his name. He’s not here now, but he’s always bothering me over the littlest things. It’s incredibly annoying,” he avoided eye contact while speaking, “Genuinely, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was something fundamentally wrong with him.”

“And, there’s that Lime engineer that can’t keep a cigarette out of his–. His? Her? I don’t know, it’s mouth for more than a few minutes. How is that even allowed? The smoke messes with my head. Keep that in your room, or something!”

“Both of the engineers are weirdos, thinking about it now,” White trailed off, his shoulders untensing as he went.

Mareen listened to his rant, of course. He lifted his helmet up to his nose, and missed his mouth the first few times he tried to take a bite. When he finally got it, there was a very high chance he ate the wrapping of the sandwich, too.

“Well– er. We definitely ‘ave a... uh, colorful bunch o’ crew. That I can’t deny,” his lips turnt up.

Had Will said something funny? He wasn’t paying too much attention.

He thought of a clever comment on the usage of the word colorful, then decided to not say anything. Partially, it was out of fear of ruining the moment, but he’d never admit that. It’d be a waste to lose this chance to complain.

“The other engineer thinks I need help with wires, Mar. Wires, of all tasks. I am perfectly capable of doing wires myself…”

“Oh, right, how could I forget. There’s Yellow, that ear-bleeding abomination who shouldn’t even be qualified let alone for its health code violations and–” he took a deep breath, that was more of a gasp for air, “Okay. I just don’t understand how most of the people on this ship even got here. I would say I’m worried for some of their mental states, but I’ve decided that’s no longer a problem concerning me.”

“Guess that’s all ye can do, cantcha?” Mareen took a large bite out of his sandwich. Will still couldn’t tell if the wrapping was on it or not.

“... You mean, be worried?”

“Well, that too, sometimes. I meant steppin’ away and choosin’ yer-self, or… somethin’ along those lines.”

William felt himself get angry at that comment. “Yeah, you do that often?”

The other man moved in his seat. He brought his leg - the one farther from Will - up onto the bench of the table. He swallowed his food before he responded.

“Not often. ‘nd not in a slackin’ off way. To keep the peace, ye gotta keep yer piece,” Mareen shifted again, awkwardly this time.

He didn’t blame him. What he said hadn’t even made sense; at that point, it sounded like he was just saying things he thought Will wanted to hear. If he really meant that last sentence, he’d be a massive hypocrite.

Instead of responding to him, he looked down at his untouched food. Sorry about that, Black. He’s been picking at the lid the whole time.

Eventually, he decided on a simple nod of acknowledgement. “Sure.”

How long has it been since lunch started? It felt like no time had passed, yet the cafeteria was visibly emptier; the newfound quiet in the room was warmly welcomed by William.

Apparently, the lack of company was an invitation for this cowboy to kick his feet up onto the table. Specifically facing his lunch.

A long silence stretched before he spoke up, “What are you doing.”

“Nothin’, no. Nothin’ at all,” the cowboy snickered, the grin on his face giving him away.

“There’s no way you believe that’s sanitary.”

“Ah, it’s fine. ‘m not touchin’ any food, am I?”

“You don’t need to be touching any food for it to be gross!” Will snapped. Though, his tone wasn’t holding any real malice.

Mar puckered his lips slightly, “Huh. Guess yer right. Well, where else do I stick ‘em?”

“Don’t ask me,” he huffed a laugh.

A laugh… What on Earth? Or, in this case, what in space?

His lunchbox really didn’t seem all that appealing anymore. He’s come to terms with it at this point. Surely Black wouldn’t mind, and besides, he could always eat it later with the doctor as he intended to. It’s much cleaner in the Medbay sector.

The silence between the two men was more comfortable this time. White even found it in him to lean back and cross his arms. He was more so forcing himself to relax. Lunch was almost over and, honestly, now it felt like a bad thing.

Mareen tapped his boot against the edge of the table rhythmically, a faint underlying tune reaching Will’s ears. Maybe he was reaching, but his actions seemed like more of a self soothing thing than anything else.

Unfortunately, he found that the man’s attempt at a laid-back attitude was enough for him to want to speak again.

He avoided eye contact, “Do you, uh. Ever think the ship is too small? Like - we’re all just on top of each other all the time?”

Mareen nodded slightly, his helmet turning towards a large window; He mirrored his act of looking away.

“... Sure. Yeah, can feel like there’s no escape sometimes, bein’ out here in the black,” he shifted again, putting his sandwich down, “But then I figure– it’s a big ol’ galaxy, ain’t it? Plenty of space out there, heh.”

William rolled his eyes, at his joke and at what he was implying. Who was going to tell Mareen he wasn’t funny? It wouldn’t be him.

He started again after letting his joke fester, “Y’just gotta remind yer-self of that every now and again.”

White considered that. It was a very simple thought, but somehow it was kind of grounding.

He didn’t dwell on it for too long, however.

“You… ever get tired of it?” he asked quietly.

No one was left in the cafeteria, other than those two of course. That’s the only reason William asked that question, even taking the extra precaution of doing so in a smaller voice.

In all honesty, he doesn’t know why he asked. It wasn’t like the answer would affect him either way. The only plausible reason was curiosity, which can be dangerous unless in moderation.

White looked down at his unopened lunch box once more. The hum of the Capella’s engine reached his ears again, and he could picture himself back on Earth, sitting on some vandalized bench near a park. The buzz was the traffic in the distance, and the table was his lap.

“Hey,” the cowboy spoke up, breaking the illusion, “Don’t let it eat at ya too much. You’re sharper than most folks ‘ere. –Y’got a good head on yer shoulders, is what ‘m tryin’ to say.”

Will frowned, thrown off by the sudden compliment. He wasn’t sure how Mareen meant that, if it was genuine or just how he acts, but it lingered for a moment.

He picked at the lid of his lunch. Third, fourth, or fifth times the charm apparently. Poor thing, it looked much more visibly worn down than it did before.

“Thanks, I guess.”

He put his helmet back on fully before responding, “Anytime, White.”

The doors to the cafeteria hissed open, a few crewmembers shuffling in. The suits rustling and the sounds of their voices broke the nice atmosphere that’d been building up.

Mareen stretched, standing up with an exaggerated groan. White moved to stand, as well.

“Well. Back to it then, I’m guessin’?” and before he could respond, he continued, “Actually, d’you mind deliverin’ somethin’ to Karma when ye get the chance?”

“... Karma?”

“Ah. Dr. Wedgewood, my bad.”

William thought it over for a second, “Sure.”

He nodded, proceeding to take out a napkin and pen. From what White could see, it was hardly anything that the doctor would need urgently. He quickly folded up the note and then offered it to him.

Will took it, of course. He tried to make it seem like Mareen being on a first-name basis with the doctor didn’t hurt him.

“Thank ye kindly.”

“Yeah. It’s fine.”

Mareen still hadn’t walked away yet. He looked at the wall for a moment, then back at him.

“And, White?”

“Uh, what?”

“Don’t work too hard,” he said with a chuckle.

He scoffed at him, “Sure. Whatever you say.”

As Mareen sauntered off, laughing at his dumb jokes, he found himself with a slight smile too.

Today did end up being a pretty good day, didn’t it?