Chapter Text
The dining room, like most of the rooms in the ship, is ridiculously big. If Bertie had to guess they’d say it’s the biggest room they’ve been in so far, which isn’t much of a compliment considering he’s only been in about three. Still. It’s big.
Marius is leaning against the doorway on the other end of the room, talking to someone in the other room. Bertie can’t quite make out their conversation, but he does hear the words new person and flamethrower and makes the executive decision to stay away from there for the time being.
Tim sighs. “Marius, you better not have made drumsticks again.”
“I didn’t! I didn’t even cook today, Ivy did. I think. Well, Ivy tried to cook but then she and Ashes kept arguing so she stopped and just let Ashes cook on their own. Actually-”
“Yeah, I don’t care. Just as long as no one made drumsticks because then you’re going to make that stupid pun and I hate it so much-”
“I can still make it if you’d like!”
“Marius, no one likes that joke,” a voice calls from the other room.
“Oh? Do you speak for everyone in the universe, Ashes? Do you know the sense of humor of everyone who has ever lived now?”
A person- Ashes, Bertie assumes- steps out of the room with their arms crossed. “No, but I know for a fact that no one on this ship likes it, and their opinions are the only ones that matter in this situation.” They spot Bertie and raise their eyebrows in surprise. “Oh. Is this the new person?”
“Uh. Yeah, I’m Bertie.” Bertie sticks out their hand on reflex until they remember Ashes is on the other side of the room and cannot shake his hand because, you know, physics. “Ashes, right?”
“That’s me. Nice to meet you, I suppose.”
“Wait, Marius- you met Bertie first, right?” Tim interjects. “They said you had them in the medbay for a while.”
“Yep! I pulled him out of that tiny spacecraft.”
“It wasn’t that small-”
“Why didn’t you tell me, then?”
Marius blinks. “Why would I tell you?”
“I dunno, maybe because they’re my best friend who I thought was dead?”
“They’re- oh. Oh. He’s that Bertie?”
“Childhood-crush-literal-reason-you-blew-up-the-moon-Bertie,” Ashes clarifies.
Tim grits his teeth. “Yes, that Bertie.”
“Ah.”
“We thought you were dead!” Marius says to Bertie cheerfully.
“Um-”
Ashes swats Marius’s arm. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s true!”
“Not all true things need to be said, Marius.”
“Oh, says Mx. You-Actually-Look-Terrible-In-That-Suit-Brian.”
“Well, he did!”
“He did not! I think he looked great.”
“Well you wear boot belts, you really aren’t in a position to talk about fashion.”
“Excuse you-”
“Do they argue about this often?” Bertie whispers to Tim as they other two continue to argue.
“Not these two specifically, but we all try to insult Marius’s outfit as frequently as we can. I mean, look at it.”
“I think it looks nice.”
“Christ, not you too.” Tim pinches his nose in frustration. “Where is everyone else, anyway? Didn’t Ashes say it was dinner time?”
Bertie shrugs. “Don’t ask me. I just got here.”
Tim sighs. “Right, well. I’m gonna go drag them away from whatever they’re doing and tell them to come to dinner because I am fucking starving, unless Raphaella is using everyone as test subjects again because I’m not touching her lab with a ten-foot pole. Will you be okay here?”
“I- I guess?” Bertie would definitely not be okay here, but the alternative would probably be going around and collecting violent immortal space pirates, and they would rather not be doing that. “As long as these two promise not to kill me.”
“They won’t. They- I think they know not to touch you. For now.” Tim nods and walks out before Bertie has a chance to ask ae what the fuck that meant.
Bertie sighs and leans against the table as Ashes and Marius continue to argue. They’ve somehow moved from insulting each other’s fashion sense to whether or not owning forged medical licenses makes you qualified to perform surgery. Both of them seem to be in agreement that it doesn’t, so Bertie isn’t sure why it’s even an argument, but then again this is one of the less weird things they’ve encountered today, so he leaves it be.
Other crew members start entering the room, watching Bertie with curiosity. He waves awkwardly at them, but most of them seem more preoccupied with whatever Ashes and Marius are doing, which has now escalated to a full-on knife fight.
Vaguely, Bertie thinks that maybe they should stop them before someone gets hurt.
“Hey.” Bertie feels a hand on their shoulder and turns to see one of the crew members- the one with the rainbow hair- standing beside him. “Bertie, right?”
“Um. Yeah, that’s my name.”
“Pleasure to meet you.” The crew member sticks out a hand. “Lyfrassir Edda, they/them. Officially the band’s publicity manager, but unofficially-” They lower their voice conspiratorially- “I run pretty much everything on this damn ship.”
Bertie laughs and awkwardly takes Lyfassir’s hand. “Nice to meet you as well. I’m Bertie- well. You already knew that.”
“Yes, Tim mentioned you.” They glance around the room. “He and TS were going to to feed the octokittens before dinner, but considering they haven’t gotten back yet, they either got lost on the way or the octokittens tried to eat them again.”
“I- sorry? What’s an octokitten?”
“Oh, have you not met them yet? You will soon enough. They’re basically like- hm. You know cats?”
“Yeah, I had one back- before.”
“Well, imagine one of those but with tentacles instead of paws, and also a taste for human flesh.”
“...Ah.”
“Yeah. They’re annoying little bastards. Impossible to get rid of, too. You get used to them.”
“And they eat people? That doesn’t seem very safe.”
“Not really, but we are all immortal. If they try to eat us we just regenerate. Getting eaten by one is pretty painful though, so I try to keep away from them.”
“Yeah, I’d imagine. I, uh, I got bitten by my pet cat once, and it hurt like crazy. So I’d guess that getting eaten whole by one is… worse.”
“It is.” Lyfrassir nods. “Anyways, that wasn’t the reason I wanted to talk to you. I just wanted to let you know… the Mechanisms can be very- nice, at times but they’re also very… strange, to put it mildly.” As if to emphasize their point, a knife lands on the table and misses their hand by about two inches. They pull it out of the wood, unconcerned. “I’m the newest crew member besides you, and I understand how confusing it can be at first. So. If you ever need help with anything- I’m here.”
“I- thank you, Lyfrassir. I’d really appreciate that. This is… kind of a lot.”
“You can call me Lyf. And it’s no problem.” They wince as another knife whizzes past their head. “Marius, are you trying to hit me?”
“No!” says Marius, very obviously aiming a knife in Lyf and Bertie’s direction.
Lyf sighs again, but Bertie can tell that they’re hiding a smile. “Whatever. Just as long as you don’t kill anyone and delay dinner again.”
“So this is… a normal occurrence?” Bertie asks, watching Jonny attempt to load a butter knife into his gun.
“I mean, it’s not unusual.”
Bertie resists the urge to make a joke they’re almost certain Lyf won’t get. “I- huh.”
“Yeah. Like I said, you get used to it.” They scan the table. “At least they bothered to set the table first. Help yourself to some food, there’s no way everyone’s going to sit down and eat tonight.” They pick up a mug from the table and wander closer to the fight, which Bertie takes as an indication that the conversation is over.
Well. At least he won’t have to sit down and eat with the crew. Just eat alone and try to dodge their knives.
Hopefully Tim comes back soon.
Bertie picks up a cracker from the table and after checking it for poison- mostly out of habit, but it was probably a good idea considering where they are- takes a small bite.
As they chew, it occurs to him that this is the first food they’ve had in over a thousand years.
It tastes kind of stale.
He finishes up the cracker and stares at the plate it was sitting on. It didn’t really make them less hungry, considering they don’t feel hunger anymore. He would have thought it would at least cause some kind of change, but they just feel… kind of empty.
It’s kind of shocking, frankly. He doesn’t know what he was expecting- some kind of transcendent experience? To rediscover the joys of food or some shit?- but whatever they were expecting, it wasn’t this.
It’s not even bad, just… underwhelming.
Whatever.
At least it’s not corpsemeat.
He’s saved from going down that road by a familiar voice on the other side of the room. “Bertie, old chap, a real pleasure to see you again!”
Bertie feels his face breaking into a smile. “Toy Solider?”
They look up and see that yes, it is the Toy Solider standing in the doorway, with Tim trailing behind it. It looks almost exactly the same as it did back in the moon war, albeit with a lot less mud on its face and a red uniform instead of green one.
...Bertie’s really missed it.
The Toy Solider skips over to where Bertie is standing, grabs his hand and enthusiastically shakes it. “I really thought you were gone, old chap! Very glad to find out that you aren’t!”
“Uh, yeah. I am too.”
It smiles- well not really smiles, its painted face is the same as ever- but Bertie can tell that it’d definitely be smiling if it could. “Glad to know you’re adjusting okay, then!”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that-”
“You know, when Tim joined the crew it took ae nearly two weeks to even come out of faer room! Oh, and don’t get me started on-”
“Toy Solider, maybe we could save discussing the way everyone’s delt with the trauma of getting turned immortal for after dinner?” Tim cuts in. “Bertie, have you eaten?”
“I… I had a bit? I’m not really hungry, considering, you know…” He waves a hand vaguely at himself. “Lyf said we could just eat whenever, though.”
Tim blinks, as if he’s only just now registering the fight happening on the other side of the room. “Oh. Yeah, that happens sometimes. I, uh. I could ask them to stop, if you want.”
“I- it’s fine. Unless they ask me to start fighting with them. Wait, are they going to ask me-”
“Probably not. We like fighting amongst ourselves, but- not to be rude, but most of us aren’t a huge fan of outsiders. I mean, you’ll probably go over better than Lyf did considering you’re actually a mechanism, but still. It’s going to take everyone a while to get used to you.”
“So that’s a no, then.”
“Yeah. I’ll probably hold them at gunpoint to introduce themselves at some point- assuming you’re okay with that, of course- but it’s unlikely most of them are going to try to hold extended conversations with you for a while.”
“I feel like you’re giving me instructions on how to deal with a bunch of housecats.”
Tim laughs. “I mean, you’re not wrong.”
“Yeah, well-” Bertie pauses. “Wait. Where’d the Toy Solider go?”
“It’s probably around here somewhere. It likes to leave and enter rooms without warning. As you know, I guess.”
“Yeah, it liked to do that a lot back during- well. Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
A cheer erupts from the other side of the room and Bertie looks over to see Marius triumphantly holding the body of another crew member- red and purple hair, clutching a book in their limp hands. Bertie’s stomach drops.
“Oh God, are they-”
Tim glances up. “Dead? Probably. She’ll be fine, though.”
“W- She’s dead, Tim.”
“Yeah, and she’ll be revived in a few minutes. Haven’t you figured out that our mechanisms make us immortal?”
“I knew that it meant I didn’t need to like- to eat, or sleep or anything. But I thought that was just because I’m, y’know,” Bertie waved a hand at himself again. They really can’t bring themself to refer to it as I’m basically a robot now quite yet. “Your dead friend, on the other hand, does not appear to be made of metal.”
“She’s not, just her brain. But that’s enough to revive her. And don’t ask me about the science behind that, because I don’t have the slightest clue.”
“...Huh.”
“Yeah.”
“So you just kill each other for fun then.”
“Yeah. What did you think they were doing when they started trying to stab each other in the throat?”
“I dunno! I figured maybe they knew how to do stuff like this without getting anyone seriously hurt!”
“Ha, no. That’s a nice thought, though.” Tim waves at the winged crewmate carrying the dead one over to the table. “We just kind of… kill each other sometimes. A lot, actually. Raph, if you make Ivy regenerate on the table again you can’t have Better Marius for a whole week.”
The winged crewmate huffs. “Come on, you’re no fun.”
“Some of us do not like blood in their food, Raphaella.”
“Some of us don’t care,” Raphaella says, tossing the corpse to the side of the room and fixing her eyes on Bertie. “This is Bertie?”
“Uh. Yep. Raphaella, right?”
“Yep. Raphaella la Cognitzi, she/her, science officer of the Aurora.” She looks Bertie up and down. “You’re a lot taller than I though you’d be.”
“I- what?”
“Jonny described you as, quote, ‘a weak twink who shouldn’t have lasted half as long as they did.’”
“...And you translated that to ‘short.’”
“Yes. The other bits of the description seem accurate, though.”
“Raphaella, don’t you have science to be doing or something?” Tim says, sighing.
“No! But I do have a card game to be getting to. Actually- Bertie, you wanna play with us? If you win then I don’t owe Ashes a new lighter and building lighters is a pain. And we promise not to cheat too much.”
“I. I mean, sure-”
“Great!” Raphaella drags Bertie to where Ashes is sitting, shuffling a deck of cards. “Don’t worry, Tim, we won’t hurt your boyfriend too badly.”
“They’re not my boyfriend-” Tim starts, at the same time Bertie says “Too badly?”
Raphaella ignores both these comments and sits down next to Ashes, pulling the deck out of their hands. “Bertie, you deal?”
The rest of the evening passes in a bit of a blur. Bertie plays at least three rounds of some kind of unspecified card game with Ashes and Raphaella, loosing each time because they never explained the rules and Ashes refuses to tell them. It was still pretty fun though, especially considering the other options were “talk to Jonny” or “join the game of monopoly that somehow involves guns and D&D dice,” neither of which sounds very appealing.
The other members of the crew come over to introduce themselves over the course of the evening, and Bertie struggles to keep them all straight. Ivy, the one who died earlier and informs him there’s a 57% chance he will also die within the next three days. Brian, the one made of metal who seems like he needs a nap. Nastya, who is apparently in some sort of romantic relationship with the spaceship. The spaceship herself, Aurora, who communicates through Morse code and seems very pleased that Bertie is willing to respond in the same way.
By the time Tim suggests they go to bed it’s nearly one a.m. ship time, not that it means much now that Bertie doesn’t need to sleep. Still, Tim leads them up to xyr room and offers to sleep on the floor so that Bertie can have the bed, which Bertie declines. They still end up arguing for a while longer until they agree that they can both sleep in the bed, which Bertie doesn’t have any problem with.
It’s nice, the comfort.
It’s been so long since they’ve had something like this- obviously he was in the spacecraft for a while, and before that there was the moon war. They specifically remember the last time he slept in a proper bed- the night before he and Tim were shipped off to the moon war.
They try to trick themself into thinking that he’s back on Earth, that the moon war never happened and that everything is fine.
It doesn’t quite work, but it gets them to sleep.
He curls closer to Tim and dreams about the stars.