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“The Fleet Commander?” Ridget’s assistant looked up from the stack of papers on his desk and blinked owlishly at Bellows. “Is she not in her office?”
Bellows shook her head. That had been the first place she’d looked, walking past his smaller office without him even looking up.
“Hmm, she’s probably preparing for the rejoining ceremony tonight, then.” He shifted some papers around; dug out one that was less than half covered in cramped script. “I could take a message?”
“Nah, that’s fine.” Bellows smiled at the man. “Wasn’t that important, I’ll just chase her down some other time. Thanks.”
She turned and left, scarlet hair blowing into her face as she departed from the dim confines of the halls into bright daylight. She tucked the clipboard more tightly to her chest, lest some mischievous gust of wind tear its contents away.
(She had duplicates, back in her own office, but it would be a pain to go get them, and have to recopy them again.)
Ridget would want to see these papers soon – she and Pinion had finally finished their preliminary catalog of the various artifacts recovered from the Kugel fleet and the ocean surrounding it – but it wasn’t time-critical.
Bellows sighed. It really was a lot more difficult to find excuses to spend time with the woman she liked when she wasn’t there.
… And the fact that she was the commander of a fleet in the midst of reconfiguring itself, and that Bellows herself was not exactly lacking for things to do, didn’t help either.
She shook her head. No point just standing there, blocking the doorway.
Now, where else might Ridget be …
Bellows crested the top of the last ladder leading to one of the highest points in the main fleet – well, aside from the obvious – and folded her arms briefly, using the rooftop as an impromptu table as she looked up at Ridget.
The Fleet Commander stood on the other side of the roof, leaning against a railing and staring out towards the remnants of the Kugel fleet: the still-functional ships that had been slowly redistributing themselves, and the mass of wreckage beyond, that had been a steady source of salvage over the past weeks.
She didn’t seem to have noticed Bellows, for all that her ascent had not been exactly stealthy, and her face was that particular brand of neutral that meant she was worrying about something.
Bellows heaved herself the rest of the way up and walked over. She turned to lean her back against the railing, framing her view of Ridget with endless blue sky and Heaven’s Ladder off in the distance. “Hey.”
Ridget blinked; looked at her and braced herself to push away from the railing. “Is something –”
Bellows waved a dismissive hand. “Everything’s going smoothly, ’s far as I know. Just had some spare time, and was wondering where you’d gone off to.” She’d dropped the paperwork back off at her ship. It really could wait, and if Ridget was hiding, she wouldn’t be in the mood to deal with it.
(Not that she’d ever admit it, of course.)
“Oh. I just –” Ridget made a small gesture, eyes drawn inexorably back. “Needed some time to think.”
About? Bellows wanted to ask, but held her peace.
The wind shifted, and violet hair blew across Ridget’s face. Bellows raised a hand, hesitated – and Ridget brushed her own hair back out of the way, looking back towards Bellows again. “Do you think –?” She started, then shook her head. “Never mind.”
“Think what?” Bellows asked. “I promise I won’t laugh, or judge.”
She remembered – like it had been yesterday, and not weeks ago – counseling Ridget to find people to rely on.
She hoped Ridget knew that she could rely on her.
Ridget shook her head. “It’s not that. It’s – I shouldn’t need reassurance.” Her left hand, still on the railing, clenched, her knuckles white. “I know I made the right decision. We couldn’t have let the Kugel fleet run free. But.”
She raised her hand, holding it out towards the wreckage. When she spoke again, it was almost too quietly for Bellows to hear. “What sort of person am I, to make a decision like that? To cause so much destruction, to end lives … to still be able to justify to myself that it was the right thing to do?”
Bellows bit her lip. She had thought, over the past days and weeks, as Ridget had thrown herself into planning the fleet redistribution and resettlement of the refugees who didn’t have ships anymore, and the thousand smaller tasks that came along with any such move, that she might be trying to use it as a way to … atone, maybe. She knew Ridget too well to believe that she wouldn’t be affected.
Bellows herself, when she thought about how she’d helped load the shells that caused such destruction … well, it would be a lie to say that she wasn’t affected either.
So she’d rehearsed reassurances, ways the conversation might go. Sternly told herself off for dwelling a bit too long on the ones that ended in a tender kiss.
But even she underestimated Ridget sometimes, apparently.
“… You’re the Fleet Commander,” she finally said. Hoping it was the right thing. “It’s your job, to make that sort of decision. For all our sakes.”
“But how do I know I’m not just … making up excuses, retroactively justifying whatever I wanted to do in the first place?”
“Would you have chosen a less destructive path, if you’d been able to think of one?” Bellows asked.
Ridget looked affronted. Good. “Of course!”
“If you hadn’t been able to find a better solution, but someone had come to you to propose one – Dr. Oldham, say. Or me. Or,” she made a vague gesture, “Saaya or one of the other messengers. Would you have listened?”
“Of course,” Ridget repeated. “I might not … I’d have to consider whether their plan took everything necessary into account –”
“But you’d listen,” Bellows said. “And if I – if any of us – came to you and said that you were wrong, that you’d set us on the wrong course and were driving us to ruin –”
Ridget flinched, hard, and Bellows had to clench her own fist to keep herself from reaching out.
“I.” She swallowed, but when she met Bellows’ gaze, her eyes were clear. “I’d want to know why you thought that. I’d listen very carefully to your reasons, and do my best to properly articulate my own. I’m the Fleet Commander. I know I can’t … I’ll never be able to please everyone. But if – when – I really am wrong, I hope I’ll be able to recognize it. And I hope you and the others will be willing to tell me, if I don’t.”
“Good.” Bellows smiled. “That’s all any of us can ask, I think. And …” She thought back to what Ledo had said, what some of the other refugees had mentioned, about the Yunboro who had set herself up as a god. “as long as you do that, as long as you don’t set yourself so high none of the rest of us can reach … I think you should be all right.”
Slowly, Ridget smiled back. “Thanks.” She glanced back at the Kugel fleet, and the wreckage beyond, once more, then turned away. “That … helped.” She intertwined her fingers and stretched upwards. “Guess I should get back to work. Will I see you at the party tonight?”
Bellows made a scoffing noise to hide her relief. “Like I’d miss that.”
When a fleet splits, it’s done with relatively little ceremony. There’s the signing of documents, and officially handing control of the offshoot fleet to its new Fleet Commander, and usually a scattering of people who gather to watch the last lock unlock, and the new fleet drift away. But goodbyes are mostly said in private.
When fleets join, though –
There’s still paperwork to be done, of course, and discussions to be had among the former Fleet Commanders about chain of command going forward. And the final lock is folded into place with ceremony, short speeches from both former Fleet Commanders, and plenty of onlookers on both sides.
But what everyone really looks forward to is the afterparty.
It’s like a fleet’s worth of Calm Day parties, all rolled into one – except the mechanics get to come, too. Everyone gets to, with the exception of a small handful of the most critical support crew.
And with three fleets joining together, two of them so recently and reluctantly split that their denizens are mostly overjoyed to see each other again, that’s even more true.
None of the three fleets had a single space large enough to host everyone, but the Gargantia fleet had done its best, transforming a couple of the larger open areas into dance floors and gathering places (to the consternation of at least one herd of cows); nearby shops stayed open past their normal hours to serve the constant stream of people from all three fleets, and farther ones brought mobile stalls to set up in any remaining space and hawk their wares.
A few levels up, on balconies that had been thoughtfully cleared, a variety of bands traded off playing cheerful music. There’d be other performances, later, by a series of performers from all three fleets. But for now, the music was intended to encourage people to relax, to wander around and get to know each other.
And to dance.
Bellows had a few drinks with the other members of her salvage team, including a couple of old friends who’d gone with the Flange fleet due to family obligations and several newcomers from the Kugel fleet who had expressed an interest in joining after the integration work started in earnest. They were untrained but enthusiastic; Bellows had trained useful crew out of far worse.
Then she caught a glimpse of familiar violet in the crowd, and hastily excused herself.
She caught up with Ridget in the middle of an earnest discussion with several of the more prominent ship owners, of … she wasn’t quite sure, but it appeared to be something that they’d all prefer to discuss after the party.
And, conveniently, just as the current band (completely unfamiliar to her – maybe they were from the Kugel fleet?) started a new song.
Bellows tapped Ridget on the shoulder, and held out her hand. “May I have this dance?”
Ridget looked back, clearly torn. “I should –”
“Go, go,” Crown said, making shooing motions. “We can discuss business tomorrow. Enjoy yourself tonight.”
Ridget opened her mouth, appearing about to protest further – and then closed it, smiling wryly, and took Bellows’ hand. “I would be pleased to.”
Once they were out of earshot, she said, “… You realize, I’m no better at dancing now than I have ever been.”
When was the last time they’d danced? Bellows thought she’d been ten, maybe eleven. Ridget had seemed so cool and so unattainably adult, back then, at the grand age of fourteen; it had taken all of Bellows’ courage to even ask.
But now, as she had then, she grinned. “I’ll help you.” Leaned in closer, “Don’t worry about stepping on my feet, they’re pretty tough.”
Back then, Ridget had shoved her, protesting that she wouldn’t be that bad; now, she just wrinkled her nose. “On your own head be it.”
For a while, they danced in silence. Ridget’s movements were a bit jerky and awkward, but – despite her protestations – far less so than they had been, years before.
And Bellows had forgotten how good it felt to have her in her arms. Why had she ever stopped?
(Because Ridget had fallen head-over-heels for a man, and Bellows had convinced herself that anything more than her friendship was impossible, and had convinced herself that staying away would help. Would accomplish anything, other than confusing Ridget and making herself miserable.)
(Thankfully, she’d grown out of that. Eventually.)
“So,” Ridget said, smiling wryly again. “were you trying to rescue me from the other captains … or them from me?”
Bellows grinned and swirled her outward in time with the other dancers, then with a gentle tug on their joined hands reeled her back into her arms. “Can’t it be both?”
She flashed an answering smile, but sighed. “I do need to have those discussions –”
“But it won’t hurt for all of you to take a night off, will it?”
“… No, I suppose not.” The music slowed to a stop. They stood there, still together, for a long moment, before Ridget let go – belatedly, Bellows did too – and stepped back.
A new song started – a local Gargantia band, playing something best suited to line dances. Ridget tilted her head for a moment, then gestured towards the rapidly-forming lines. “Shall we?”
“Let’s!”
One line dance led to another, to a series of group dances in which half the time Bellows couldn’t even see Ridget, much less dance with her.
But the moments she could see more than made up for it – Ridget’s hair swinging freely about her face, her arms and body moving in a manner that got progressively less awkward and restrained.
They swung back into each other’s orbits as the current song slowed to a finish.
One of the Kugel bands started a new song – slower, more melodic. People began to pair up again, moving closer to and more slowly than before. Bellows held out her hand again, and after a brief hesitation, Ridget took it, and settled back into her arms.
Closer than before, so close that Bellows began to wonder whether this was simply a dream that she would, eventually, have to wake up from. Ridget’s hand at her waist burned in her awareness (never had she been so glad that she was still wearing her usual tank top and shorts), and it seemed impossible to look away from her face, her lips.
The music gradually slowed, and their steps slowed with it.
Stopped, and they stood still, Ridget making no attempt to back away, and Bellows unwilling to be the first to move, when she could stay like this just that little bit longer –
She dragged her eyes up, and that, too, was a mistake, because Ridget’s eyes sparked with glints of light from the torches, and Bellows wanted nothing more than to never look away.
She was so close –
And that was what finally brought her back; she could feel herself leaning in, drunk on the night and Ridget’s proximity and her hair and her hands on her waist and her lips and her eyes.
No.
She let go. Stepped back, gave a hasty excuse – forgetting the words almost as soon as she uttered them – and fled.
Bellows let herself relax only after she’d buried herself deep in the guts of a Yunboro that had been on the maintenance list for about a week now. One of the other salvagers had mentioned that a couple of its controls had been acting up occasionally; none of them critical, so several more time-sensitive repairs to other machines had taken precedence.
But doing this repair now gave her the perfect excuse to concentrate on something other than wondering what in the world she’d been thinking.
Or at least enough privacy that when she finally put her tools and light down and allowed herself a moment of resting her forehead against the cool metal, no one was there to see.
She had thought she had better control than that.
She had thought it would be safe to allow herself this indulgence – to enjoy dancing with her friend, and not be lured by wishes for something more.
“I,” she raised her head and addressed the disassembled control panel in front of her, “am an idiot.”
The panel, being that of a standard Yunboro, did not reply.
Just as well; she didn’t need even more of an audience.
She’d finally found the faulty connection, repaired it, and was starting to close up the panel when a voice from outside startled her.
“Bellows?”
Ridget?
“Ow!”
She winced and shook her hand out; thankfully the screwdriver hadn’t dropped very far.
“Sorry, is this a bad time?”
The temptation to say ‘yes’ was almost irresistible, but unfortunately, Bellows knew her stubborn friend better than that – if not now, then it would be some other time. “No, now’s fine, just let me finish this up.”
She reattached the panel without any further mishaps, and climbed up through the top hatch of the Yunboro. Temptation struck again – maybe she could just stay here, at a distance – but she made herself climb down, bringing them once again face-to-face.
“Are you all right?” Ridget asked before Bellows had a chance to speak. Her eyes seemed to search Bellows’ face.
Or maybe that was just the dimness of the maintenance hangar. Bellows turned away to light a lamp. “Yes, I’m fine.” She glanced back. “It was a great party, don’t you think?”
“I hope it has helped those from the Kugel fleet feel more at home,” Ridget said. “I … particularly enjoyed the dancing.”
Bellows grinned despite herself. “Didn’t go nearly as badly as you expected, did it?”
“No, it didn’t.” Ridget folded her arms. Unfolded them, and met Bellows’ eye squarely. “You know I rely on you, right?” She barely gave Bellows time to nod before she continued, “You know you can rely on me, too. … Right?”
“I do!” Bellows said immediately. “We all do. You’re –”
“Then please, tell me.” Ridget took Bellows’ hands; shocked, she let her. “Was it something I did, that made you leave the party so suddenly?” Her hands were just a little bit cooler than Bellows’ own. “… I promise I won’t judge. Or laugh.”
Bellows laughed softly. She felt certain the echo was intentional. “It’s nothing you did. I just.” she would have gestured, but that would have meant letting go; she found herself reflexively squeezing Ridget’s hands instead. “Needed some space?”
“Oh – and here I am, getting in your face again –” Ridget shifted backwards, her fingers starting to slip from Bellows’ grip. “I’ll go.”
She caught one hand, just before it slipped away. Held. “Wait. Please.”
Bellows could almost see the gap that would widen between them (again) if she let Ridget go now, still probably believing she was the one who had done something wrong.
The sky was clear outside, the lamp casting its warm glow across Ridget’s face, and she’d had her dance and more.
She could have chosen a far worse night for this.
“I needed some space,” she repeated, “because otherwise I would have done something that we’d both have regretted.”
Ridget tilted her head slightly. “Like what?”
Bellows hesitated, wondering if she dared –
Shifted forward, closing the distance and letting go so that she could cup Ridget’s face with both hands. Leaned in, with their lips only a breath apart and Ridget’s eyes filling up her view. “Something like this,” she whispered.
“I wouldn’t have regretted that at all,” Ridget breathed, and closed the distance.
The kiss was dry, and short; as Ridget pulled away Bellows could feel herself follow, before sanity forcibly restored itself. “Wait,” she said, hands dropping. “You wouldn’t have?”
(… Coherence might take slightly longer.)
“No,” Ridget said, a smile playing across her lips. “I don’t regret this, either. Unless you do?”
Bellows would happily have moved an entire fleet to erase the uncertainty from her friend’s eyes. “No. Of course not! But – Ritona –”
“I had a crush on him,” Ridget admitted easily. “But that was a long time ago.” She tucked a strand of Bellows’ hair behind her ear, and Bellows shivered at the touch. “I’ve liked you for … I don’t remember quite when it started, but years at least.”
“Really? I had no idea,” Bellows admitted.
Ridget blushed slightly. “I thought for sure you’d realized when I wore … that swimsuit, and you were just ignoring it to make me feel less awkward.”
Bellows swallowed, remembering. It had taken … effort, to keep from staring at Ridget that entire party. “I thought maybe someone had put you up to it,” she admitted. “… You knew it was daring.”
“I’m not that naïve.” Ridget wrinkled her nose. “… I wouldn’t mind wearing it again, though. For you.”
Bellows could feel herself blushing. “It’s a date?”
Their eyes met again, and suddenly Bellows – suddenly they both were giggling like schoolgirls.
“I’m an idiot,” Bellows said.
“No worse of one than I,” Ridget agreed. “But … if you’ll have this idiot –”
Bellows scoffed, and pointedly retrieved one of Ridget’s hands. “There’s no way I’m going to let you go now.”
Ridget’s grip tightened. “Good.”
She leaned in, and this time Bellows was the one to close the gap.
Their second kiss tasted like home.