Ravi drummed an inktouch pen on his desk absently, staring at the same document he'd already read a thousand times. His slate illuminated him in a wash of icy blue light, glowing in the dark office. He skimmed through the list of entry requirements, even though he knew it wouldn't help him decide anything. Bonanza in Bastonar was open to all units, even those unaffiliated to a specialty branch, and Opalina would qualify for entry. Nothing on the rules and requirements page was going to tell him whether he was signing up his crew for an embarrassing mess if he enrolled them in the competition. But the deadline blazed across the top of the registration form reminded him that he couldn't keep waffling.

A buzzing like an angry hornet jerked his attention up from the screen. The alert on his desk vibrated again, letting him know someone was waiting at the door to the muster room. Ravi fumbled for the lights and rubbed his eyes while they crackled to life. It was too late to still be working, and his brain was useless grey mush. Better to sleep on the decision about Bonanza. There were still a few days left to submit their entry if he had a halfway viable plan for it.

He swiped the door aside to find Orvaska standing stiffly on the threshold. Fuck, he'd forgotten that he told Jossen to send the recruit to him as soon as he finished drilling. Long days and the lack of sleep were seriously catching up.

"Sorry for pulling you so late." Ravi pasted a smile over his exhaustion and stepped to one side to let Orvaska in. "I've been meaning to check in for a while, and it keeps slipping past me."

"It is alright, Com." Orvaska stood behind a chair until Ravi collapsed into one opposite him.

"How's Teres?"

Orvaska inclined his head, barely a nod. "Progressing. She is unschooled, but very determined. Good striking power."

"I'd like to get her set to take the first round of physical assessments as soon as we can. I'm thinking three weeks and see if she feels ready to register. What do you think?" He'd learned that if he wanted to hear Orvaska's opinion on anything, he had to ask for it directly, or all he got was silence.

"She's strong enough. Three weeks is enough time to prepare her for the initial assessments, yes."

"Excellent." Ravi looked down at his own palms, tapping his fingers against each other. He wasn't sure of the best tactic to broach the real reason he'd called for Orvaska. The twins were still the crew members he knew the least. "So." He cleared his throat. "About the slot canyons pairings."

Orvaska sat straighter in his chair, chin high, but his gaze dipped away from Ravi and fastened on the table between them. He looked as if he were waiting to get yelled at. His words came slowly. "I...that was not correct of me. To challenge you in front of the crew. I am willing to accept whatever you decide in terms of—"

"Woah, hang on, you're not in trouble for it. I just...I need to understand where that came from." Maybe it was just that one situation that had been the problem, or maybe it was a Vashyan tradition, or maybe it was always the way the twins operated. If he understood it, he could work with it.

The chair squeaked a bit as Orvaska shifted. He didn't look up, and he said nothing.

Ravi hunted for the right question. "You're pretty protective of your sister, right?"

"Of course."

He waited, got nothing more, and almost just put his head down on the table. This wasn't meant to be an enemy interrogation. Swallowing frustration, he tried again. "How did you and Onfenka end up at Opalina?"

"It was the only unit that would take both of us."

"Together?" With Orvaska's scores, he should've gotten plenty of offers from crews willing to look past his heritage. But none of those offers would have extended to Onfenka.

Orvaska jerked his head in a nod, gaze still lowered. "Yes."

Squeezing water from a rock would have been an easier task. "And you needed to stay together so that..." he trailed off, hoping Orvaska would finish. But of course, he didn't. "So that you can protect her?"

"She is my only family." It was nearly inaudible.

This wasn't about a Vashyan tradition. It was something more personal. And if he had to guess, it was the sort of thing that came from loss. Ravi smoothed the edge of the table with his hand. "Makes sense that you're protective. I don't have any siblings, but growing up, it was just me and my mom. We were the only people who ever looked out for each other."

"Your father died?"

He stilled. Orvaska was finally looking at him. "No," Ravi said. "He left. Before I was born, actually. Never knew him."

"My mother left us too, when we were children. We came here when our father died." Orvaska curled his thumbs down on his forefingers with relentless force. "I know that Onfenka does not need my protection. I..." He shook his head. "I do not want to be alone."

Maybe if Ravi hadn't been so worn down by the days, he might've staved off his own feelings about that. A flash of cold streamed through him, the ice-water cold of having caught sight of something buried. But clawing its way to the surface. His chest was so tight it was hard to catch his breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I get that." And then he couldn't come up with anything wise or reassuring or helpful.

"You wish me to separate from her."

"No," Ravi said quickly. And yes. No one person or thing could be someone else's everything. He thought of his mother, dancing around in the living room, trying to convince him that happiness wasn't the last box on a checklist. It was something they were supposed to reach for all the time, and sometimes they'd find it.

He forced out a breath and leaned forward. "I want both you and Onfenka to be able to connect to other people. It doesn't mean she won't still be with you. It just won't be the two of you on your own anymore." The rest of it spilled out before he could consider whether it was his place to say it. "I want you to have friends. Family. We don't have to just wait for those things to happen. They can be built."

Orvaska drew back, shoulders tight. But then he offered a hesitant nod. "I will try," he said softly.

"That's all anybody can ask. For now, your best bet is to run for it before I start spewing more life advice." With the last of his energy, he grinned and gestured to the door.

The grin scrolled away as soon as Orvaska was gone. He sprawled all the way back in the chair, limbs dangling, staring at the ceiling. Little Goddess, it was hard to pretend he had his shit together enough to lead this crew.

All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and fall asleep. It was the best way to block out the nibbling anxiety that he spent too long making the wrong decisions and everything he held onto was exactly what got in his way. No time for that shit. He still hadn't checked the storeroom in preparation for supply delivery tomorrow, his schedule was a mess of half-crossed out items and double bookings, he needed to keep up with the progress reports for Teres' portfolio if they were going to fast track her for an Enforcer unit, and he promised Rosareen and Yorune he would look over their proposal about trying to develop a hydroponic fruit orchard.

Lio said he was good at this. But it took so much preparation and research and so many conversations, and it was much more to keep track of than when he'd just pointed a well-oiled machine of a unit at the next commendation to be secured. It was work to be a good com to everyone on this strange crew. Proud of it as he was, it was draining him completely.

He hoisted himself out of the chair and dragged to the storeroom, until he realized he'd forgotten his slate and jogged back down the hallway to retrieve it. Blurry-eyed, he squinted at the inventory list, double-checked the areas the crew had prepped, and bumbled back into the hallway. And was greeted by the smell of something burning.

Ravi stared dully at the mess hall. Maybe he could just let it catch on fire. The whole outpost was rock anyways, it wouldn't go up in flames completely. Sighing, he pocketed his slate and crossed the corridor to shove the mess hall door open.

Lio whipped around, panic and guilt stamped across his face. Both his arms were encased in heat-resistant biohazard gloves and waving frantically above the charred disaster in his pan. At least there weren't any active flames. Ravi glared at him, and then he couldn't do it. A tired laugh bubbled up in his chest and cracked through the stern façade he was supposed to maintain.

"Oh, that's very helpful," Lio snapped.

"Sorry," he choked around the laugh. "Looks like you've got everything under control with those gloves."

"I couldn't find the kitchen things!"

"Oven mitts?" Ravi crossed to the drawer, pulled it open to show Lio the mitts, and then closed the drawer so he could read the label. "This says, oven mi—"

"Yes, I've got it now, thank you." Lio smacked a spatula into the burnt lump, trying to pry it up from the pan.

True to form when he was around Lio, Ravi just couldn't help himself. "Don't cook much?"

"Look, at home we have—well, it's easier. Suffice to say cooking is not my greatest strength," Lio sniffed.

He'd bet his right arm that Lio had been about to say that at home his family had a chef. Figured. "What were you trying to make?"

"An omelette."

"It's night-eleven-forty, Lio."

"I was hungry!" But now he was flushed and smiling and peeking up at Ravi from under his long lashes and it was far too late for this.

"You're ridiculous," Ravi muttered, mostly to distract himself from the heat curling in his stomach. It had to be the sleep-deprivation talking when he heard himself say, "Go across to the storeroom and get a bag of cornchips, a can of chili, the cheese packet Duhar opened, and an onion."

Grinning like he'd just won a commendation, Lio flew out of the mess hall while Ravi scraped the ashy remains of the omelette into the trash. He plucked a clean skillet from the rack and took the can and chips from Lio when he returned. "You know how to dice an onion?"

"In theory or in practice?" Lio asked. Ravi pressed his lips together to keep from laughing again, but Lio still looked pretty satisfied with himself and flashed his most sparkling smile. "I can figure it out." He made a show of menacing the onion with a knife. "First, intimidation."

Ravi dumped the chili into the skillet and let it warm, trying not to think about what the fuck he was doing. He was too tired to come up with a proper excuse. He was in the mess hall because he wanted to be around Lio. He always wanted to be around Lio. Laugh with him, impress him, see if he could hold his attention. Lio was as wild and beautiful and terrifying as the lightning on the lake. He could leave Ravi dazzled and scorched in the same heartbeat.

"What are we making?" Lio asked.

There shouldn't be a "we" at all, but something in his chest still trembled joyfully to hear it. "Frito pie." Ravi glanced over to see his progress on the cutting board. "How's the onion?"

"I believe it's winning." Lio wiped away tears away on his sleeve. Then he shouted, "Damn you onion, you shall never vanquish—"

"Shhh, shut it! Normal people are trying to sleep."

"Ravi, how dare you. There are no normal people in Opalina. Don't insult us."

He sputtered with laughter because it was true, and because the giddy feeling of laughing was addictive. A handful of corn chips showered the pan. Next to him, Lio was humming a funeral dirge for his vegetable victim. Because he was a glutton for punishment, Ravi scooted far enough over that he could jostle Lio's arm with his elbow every time he stirred the chili. "Ready with the onion?"

Lio bumped his hip. "Stop knocking into me, and I will be."

They kept it up that way until the smell of burning was replaced with something more delicious, and Ravi knew he shouldn't let it continue, but it was the most he'd laughed in a week. He set a trivet on the nearest table, tossed another layer of corn chips and a fluffy blanket of shredded cheese over the frito pie, and transferred the whole pan onto the trivet.

Lio climbed onto the bench opposite him, holding out an extra fork. They waited just long enough for the temperature to bearable, and dug in.

"First Goddess," Lio said, through a mouthful of food. Then he swallowed and sighed, fluttering his eyes shut. The heat in Ravi's stomach trickled everywhere. Lio opened his eyes and smiled. "This may have surpassed my omelette."

"Not a high bar." He grinned at Lio's mock outrage. "It's a lot better with home-made chili though."

"But whoever chopped this onion did a stupendous job, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah, for sure. Best chopping of an onion I've ever seen. This"—he stabbed an onion bit and held it up—"is clearly a chunk of onion given true form. Sculpture, really."

Lio managed to snort-laugh and shovel food in his mouth at the same time, which shouldn't have been so adorable. Little Goddess, if only Lio hadn't been assigned to Opalina, then...then it probably still wouldn't have worked. They wanted different things.

He throttled his sigh and flicked his gaze back to Lio. "How's your Mastali research going?"

Fork extended over the skillet, Lio stared at him. Frozen, his smile forgotten.

"What?" Ravi repeated the question mentally, wondering where he'd mistepped. "Do you not want to talk about it?"

"No," Lio blurted. He was flushed again. "It's just...no one ever asks me that, apart from Aziri. Strange thing, being taken seriously." The wide-eyed gaze he fixed on Ravi was too intense, almost fevered, but his mouth was soft, lips slightly parted and gleaming, barely breathing. Fuck it, maybe there were some things they both wanted, good idea or not.

He was staring at Lio's mouth.

"Uh," he said frantically, whipping his gaze down to the frito pie. "I, uh, don't know that much about the Mastali, but they seem like a pretty serious topic to me."

The smile that bloomed on Lio's face was quieter and sweeter than the others Ravi hoarded in his memory, and so lovely it hurt. "You are too kind to me," he said.

Before Ravi could make sense of wherever that came from, Lio was off, telling him about all his theories and failed attempts to find his lightship. Of course Lio was Lio, and all of his screw-ups were relayed with such charm and madcap humor that Ravi was laughing again before he knew it. Too soon, the skillet was empty, and he was out of excuses to stay.

They cleaned up together, stifling yawns. Lio gave him an elaborate bow before traipsing off to his room without a backwards glance. Ravi watched him until he disappeared around the tunnel's curve. Only when he was sure Lio was completely gone did he start back to his own quarters.

He slumped face-first onto his bed when he reached it. He was fuzzy with laughter and tiredness and a pleasant, helpless yearning. Tomorrow he would wake up and think about how unnecessary and unwise his decisions were. How much time he had just wasted. He would resolve to be better. Focus on what mattered. The rest of it could wait.

Fuck that, it all mattered, and none of it could wait. Reach for happiness, his mother shouted in his head. Happiness was watching his misfit crew outperform all the people who had mocked and ignored them for years. Happiness was scaling up his com ripples so fast he blasted Gadsen out of the stratosphere. He nabbed his slate from his pocket and flipped it open. Fingers flying, he tore through the competition registration form, listed out the names of the entire crew as participants, and submitted it.

There was at least one more scrap of happiness that he didn't dare reach for. Probably because he was imagining it to be more than it could be. But stubborn hope whispered that happiness was also a lightning-bright man, sitting across from him laughing and eating frito pie.