Page 27 of The Last Hunt
Once they’re far enough away from the corona, Maeve hails the Menace.
Aethon doesn’t pick up the call.
“Can you get his AI on?” Maeve asks TAI.
“I think the radiation disabled him,” TAI says. “I can’t get him either.”
Dread feels like ice in Maeve’s chest. Was she too late? Too slow? Why was Aethon such a fucking idiot? He had to chase Daik straight into the fucking star? If he isn’t dead she’s going to kill him. She runs to the back of the Archer and peers out the viewport. The tractor beam holds the Menace motionless fifty feet away. She clenches her fists, her jaw tight.
“Trell, if I just gave up the bounty of my life for you to die anyway -”
Maeve leaps back to the dash of the Archer and moves the ship even closer to the Menace.
“TAI,” she says as her hands fly over the dash. “Set up the mobile airlock.”
TAI doesn’t respond, but Maeve hears the hiss of air as the flexible tubing releases from the Archer and reaches toward the Menace. She runs back to the door of the Archer and waits impatiently as the tube connects the two ships and fills with breathable air. The distance between the ships is only about twenty feet, but it feels like miles. Finally, the light beside the door flicks to green, and Maeve pulls it open and sprints through the flexible tube over to the Menace. She opens the door to the ship with a mag-pull and steps inside, breathless, only to find Aethon sprawled on the deck, blinking up at her. His skin is sickly pale, his hair soaked with sweat. The lesion on his neck is a vivid red, and she sees another peeking out from under the sleeve of his jacket at the wrist.
“Hey Bladesy,” he mumbles. “Not to push my luck, but you got any radiation meds?” His eyes flutter closed.
Maeve groans and races back to the Archer for her medkit, frantic fear almost overwhelming her. He’s not going to die - not if she has anything to do with it.
The next few hours are brutal. With TAI’s help, Maeve figures out the correct combination and dosage of radiation meds for Aethon. She doses him every half hour with the meds for six hours straight. By the time his fever finally breaks, his tremors stop, and his readings slowly return to normal, Maeve knows he’s going to be ok.
Exhausted and relieved, Maeve strips him of his sweat soaked clothes, barely noticing his nakedness through her concern. She dresses him in some spare clothes she finds in his quarters on the Menace and hauls him to her room on the Archer. She’s grateful for all the time she’d spent in the gym because otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to lift him into her bed. He’s tall and muscled, and so heavy. Maeve tucks him into her bed, trailing a hand over his still slightly feverish skin, his forehead damp with sweat. Her chest feels tight as she looks at Aethon, her fingers tingling with suppressed emotion. Her panic at him being trapped in the corona had overwhelmed every other consideration. She had given up six million credits. For him. This man who shadowed her, who tried to blackmail her, who was in her way at every turn over the last week. She should hate him. But the thought that he might die - that this bleak universe would spin on without his stupid charming smile - had been suddenly unfathomable to her. She caresses his cheek lightly before drawing back.
Once he’s settled, Maeve and TAI take inventory of the Menace. As soon as Maeve sees the readings on the dash of Aethon’s ship, she knows it’s barely space-worthy. The hull has micro fractures all over, the viewscreen is blown out, and life support is minimal. Aethon’s AI isn’t even able to speak to her from the Menace, resorting to trying to order her around from a tab in Aethon’s quarters.
“Captain Bladesbearer!” CAL shouts. Maeve stares at the tab on Aethon’s bedside table and rubs a hand across her gritty feeling eyes.
“Aethon is fine,” she says. “Your ship however - is not.”
“Captain Bladesbearer - you have to -”
Maeve reaches down and turns off the tab, silencing the AI. She flips open her own tab to the tracking app. Daik’s tracker is still active. If she hurries, she can maybe still catch him before someone else does. She can’t be weighed down by an incapacitated ship, no matter how furious Aethon will be.
TAI locates a crack in a rock wall of the Narrows and they stash the Menace there. Maeve places a tracker on the ship before she leaves. She’ll give it to Aethon once this whole mess is over. She also brings some of his belongings over to the Archer - including his tab with CAL.
Once back on the Archer, Maeve spends a tense few hours piloting the ship back through the Narrows, and the Keidar Belt. Her muscles ache by the time she’s through and she can barely keep her eyes open.
“Keep us on track for the nearest jump point, TAI,” she mumbles.
“Of course, Maevey-pie,” TAI replies.
Maeve drags herself back to her quarters and curls up next to Aethon on her bed, unable to face showering, or even changing her clothes. She’s been awake for almost two full days now.
It feels strangely familiar, lying next to him. Maeve feels an overpowering urge to touch him, to make sure he’s alive and whole. She pushes his hair back over his head and traces her fingertips ever so gently across his forehead. He’s so heartbreakingly beautiful. Maeve’s exhaustion is making her think things she normally would never allow to pass through her mind. Like how she wants to kiss Aethon’s jaw. And how she doesn’t understand why she feels less alone with him here - unconscious and all. Maeve hadn’t even realized that she felt alone at all until this moment. Aethon’s broad shoulders take up more than half the bed, but Maeve doesn’t care. He always takes up too much space. She curls up next to him and rests her hand on his chest, taking comfort in the slow rise and fall of his breath. He’s alive.
Chapter 8
Consequences
Aethon
Aethon wakes up slowly, like his body is unsure if it wants to come out of deep sleep. He blinks, and sees a dark ceiling. He’s on a soft bed, his head on a pillow, a surprisingly puffy and warm comforter on top of him. This isn’t his bed. He turns his head - grateful that he can do so without much pain - and sees a figure curled up next to him on top of the comforter. Maeve’s face is relaxed, aside from her lips which are pulled tight as though disapproving of him even in sleep. Her loose wine red hair spills over her shoulders, and she’s wearing a black tank top. Her face is pale, her freckles stark against her skin, dark circles beneath her closed eyes. Her hands are curled up beneath her pointed chin. Aethon’s heart gives a painful thump. It’s like someone opened a window into an alternate reality, letting him glimpse something he didn’t know he wanted, and that he’ll never get to have.
Aethon pushes the comforter down a bit and reaches up, feeling a tight bandage at his neck. He winces, a spike of pain lancing through his neck. But he can tell it’s a surface level pain. Something that will heal with time. He recognizes that he’s in a different shirt and pants - had Maeve changed his clothes?
“You’re awake.”