The High Five

The Nest

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?"