Chapter 30 - The Art of Awkward

  As tired as he was, Darius could only sit around for so long before he started feeling like climbing the walls. The days of inactivity he’d had to sit through while waiting for the Freeholder’s doctor to arrive with the new implants were bad enough. Echo would undoubtedly suggest more revision of the frame schematics, and while he could acknowledge the importance of the task…

  Well, if consequences were able to motivate him, he wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.

  Darius shoved the last of the salvaged components he was planning on selling into his new duffle bag, slinging it over his shoulder. A trip to sell his ill-gotten gains sounded like the perfect way to kill time for the rest of the afternoon.

  He idly tapped the pocket that held his lone cred-chip. Two-and-a-half thousand credits might not get him too far considering all the tools and parts he needed to buy, but even the knowledge of his upcoming expenses wasn’t enough to dissuade the part of his brain insisting that stopping by a pub would be great for his stress levels.

  ‘I mean, it has been a while since I’ve had a drink. Surely one wouldn’t hurt?’

  Well aware that he had already made the decision and was only trying to justify it, Darius licked his lips a little guiltily and headed towards the door. He could already hear Echo’s chiding comments, but he’d been ignoring people’s advice for years, so it wasn’t enough to stop him. Besides, if he played his cards right, there was a chance that Echo wouldn’t realise his destination until it was too late.

  Trying to outwit the hyper-advanced AI living in his own head might be an exercise in futility, but he’d never let logic stop any of his other bad decisions, so why start now?

  “Where are you off to?” Lena asked as he passed by the couch, her brow furrowed in curiosity.

  “Nowhere!” he all but yelped, wincing a moment later. ‘Need to work on my poker face,’ he groused internally.

  “That’s not suspicious at all,” Lena said dryly.

  “Just heading to a market,” Darius explained, trying to play off his previous response. “Need to unload some gear I picked up last night.”

  Her eyes sparkled with intrigue. “Mind if I tag along?”

  He hesitated, considering how much he wanted company while trying to navigate shady deals. On the one hand, it might make his plans to hit the pub a little harder. On the other…, well, he wasn’t too proud to admit that Lena clearly knew far more about operating under the Empire’s radar than he did. Hell, maybe she could even point him towards someplace that wouldn’t rip him off too badly.

  “Sure, but keep your head down,” he warned, slipping on a worn jacket. “No attracting attention.”

  “You don’t need to tell me that,” Lena grinned, grabbing her own jacket and following him to the door. “Don’t think I didn’t hear about the break-in at Beresin Construction. Alarms going off, increased patrols, the whole nine yards.”

  As they stepped outside, Darius inhaled the cool air and looked out over the streets. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said finally.

  “Uh-huh, I’m sure that’ll hold up in court.”

  Darius didn’t dignify that with a response, striding for the stairs with a haughty sniff.

  “You know, if you keep your nose that far in the air, someone’s going to mistake you for an Imperial noble,” Lena said as she fell into step beside him. The grin in her voice was almost audible.

  “And if you keep talking, someone’s going to mistake you for a nuisance,” Darius shot back, though his tone lacked any real bite.

  “Ouch,” Lena replied, clutching her chest dramatically. “Wounded. Right here.”

  He shook his head, unable to suppress the small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. As much as she loved poking at him, he had to admit her quick wit was better company than trudging to the market alone. The streets outside their building were a patchwork of faded signs and flickering lights, the city’s usual hum of activity blending into the background as they moved.

  They walked for a while in a companionable silence through the streets, heading in no particular direction. Around them, large apartment towers stretched upwards, their exteriors marked by decades of wear and the relentless bite of Caldera IV’s lightly corrosive atmosphere. Even where recent attempts at maintenance were visible—fresh panels bolted in place, newer materials integrated into aging structures—the constant exposure to the thin, acidic air gave everything a worn, patchwork look.

  The occasional vent of warm air from underground heating systems would puff into the chilled atmosphere, swirling faint, acrid steam between the clusters of pedestrians.

  As they moved further towards the edges of the sector, the buildings around them began to shift. The towering apartment blocks gave way to shorter, wider structures, creating a space that felt marginally less claustrophobic. Parks and small courtyards dotted the area, though the term “park” was generous.

  Nearby, a shopping centre sprawled across several blocks, neon signs and advertisements plastered over every available surface in a desperate attempt to attract attention. Shops offered everything from bulk synth-food to off-brand electronics, promising questionable discounts and dubious “warranty included” stickers.

  Here, the crowds grew denser and more lively, a throng of people heading to or from work, or the occasional lucky few who had days off enjoying them with friends. The nature of frontier colonies - particularly ones on planets with hostile conditions - meant that there was always work to be done, day or night. While there were certainly ‘off-peak’ times, generally speaking no part of the station was ever truly quiet.

  That was part of why the curfew imposed by the Station Commander was so unusual - Darius shuddered to think of how many people were falling behind in their work, or how much maintenance was going unaddressed. Even if the Commander was to cancel the curfew here and now, it would take weeks of work to catch everything up again.

  Darius shook his head, refocusing on the moment. Thinking about topics like that was the perfect way to ruin his quiet day out. He took a moment to allow the sights and sounds of the streets to flow over him. The murmur of conversation, the low hum of vehicles driving past, the buzz of drones flying overhead, the tang of fried street food.

  Even Lena, casually walking beside him. In the years that he had been on Caldera, he’d never really made any friends besides Finn. Even that was more a case of the other man refusing to leave him alone until he just sort of… gave up on keeping his distance. Having someone he could just hang out with like this was a surprisingly pleasant experience.

  Not for the first time, Darius was reminded of the similarities between Lena and his sister, Lyra. Growing up, his parents had joked that Lyra only had two speeds - stop and go. If she wasn’t quietly reading a book or listening to music, she was bouncing around the room and talking at a million miles an hour.

  Lena wasn’t exactly the same, of course, but she shared a certain energy with his sister.

  “You should take a picture; it’ll last longer,” Lena’s dry voice broke his train of thought.

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  “Sorry, what?” he asked, startled.

  “You’ve been looking at me with a weird look on your face for the past five minutes. I’d be flattered, but I’m starting to get worried.”

  Darius flushed. “Sorry!” he stammered, “It’s not… I didn’t mean…”

  Lena giggled.

  Darius rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the heat creep up his face. “Sorry! I was just thinking you remind me of my sister,” he said, trying to recover.

  Her smile faltered, and for a moment, a flicker of something passed over her face, too quickly for him to read. “Your sister?”

  “Yeah, she was always either really quiet, or super energetic. Kind of reminds me of you.” He shrugged, attempting to sound casual.

  Lena tilted her head, expression open and clear again. “You’ve mentioned your sister before, I think. She’s the one that gave you Echo, right?”

  The question made Darius tense. “Ah, yeah. That’s right,” he coughed, hoping she wouldn’t ask any more questions. He’d forgotten that was the cover story he’d gone with - rather pointlessly, actually. It probably would have served him better to just dodge any questions about Echo altogether - he’d never been any good at keeping stories straight.

  “You got any other family?”

  Darius almost would have preferred that she keep asking about Echo. His fingers fidgeted with the strap of his duffle bag as he took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I have—had, an older brother. And Lyra, of course, my younger sister,” he said slowly.

  “What’s she like, then?” Lena pressed, her curiosity evident.

  His stomach tightened. “Well… Lyra’s always been smart. Way smarter than me, that’s for sure. She, uh, works in a research laboratory. For the Empire - like, directly for the Empire. Super classified stuff, really.”

  Darius wasn’t sure why he was bragging about his sister to Lena. For starters, he’d never had anything to prove, and secondly… well, he loved his sister, but they’d never really seen eye-to-eye. Not after Marcus.

  “Sounds like you’re close,” Lena observed quietly.

  Darius opened his mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Memories rushed back—laughter shared in their childhood home that felt like a different lifetime now. “We used to be,” he said after a moment, equally quietly.

  The silence that followed was heavy enough to make Lena visibly uncomfortable. She hesitated, clearly sensing she’d wandered into a minefield but not entirely sure how to get out.

  “So, uh… what about your brother? You said you had an older brother, right?” she asked with forced cheer.

  Darius winced. “Marcus,” he said slowly. “Yeah, he… he’s gone. Passed away years ago.”

  “Oh.” Lena’s face fell, and her following words tumbled out in a rush. “I mean, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to—well, crap. That’s awful. Was it, like, recent? Not that it matters, obviously it’s still awful—uh, not that I think you’re not over it or anything, I just—”

  Darius raised a hand, cutting off her verbal tailspin. “Relax. It’s… it’s fine. It was a long time ago.”

  She nodded mutely, her expression mortified. The silence crept back in, and Lena’s gaze darted around like she was desperately searching for an escape hatch. Unfortunately for her, the only conversational exits led straight into deeper water.

  “So, uh… your parents?

  Darius’s lips twitched at her slightly desperate tone of voice. “They were engineers,” he said, keeping his growing amusement from his tone. “Dad worked in a refinery, Mum designed mining equipment. The last time I saw them was as I was being carted off to prison. Haven’t spoken to them since.”

  “…Oh. That’s… I’m sorry?” She was floundering now, casting about for a way to steer the conversation back to safer waters. Her gaze flicked toward the bustling market ahead, then back to him. “Did you, uh… ever have any pets?”

  Darius stopped walking. He turned to her, one brow lifting slightly. “Pets?”

  She faltered mid-step, her face instantly flushing. “I mean—yeah? Like, a dog? Or a cat? Or, uh… a… goldfish?”

  That was the breaking point. Darius’s composure cracked, and he started to laugh. “A goldfish? That’s the best you could do?”

  Lena froze, blinking at him in confusion before the realisation dawned. “Oh, come on,” she groaned, covering her face with her hands. “You were messing with me, weren’t you?”

  “Maybe a little,” Darius admitted, his grin wide now. “But you were doing such a good job digging yourself deeper—I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  Her hands dropped from her face, and she shot him a narrow-eyed glare, though the edges of her mouth twitched. “You are the worst.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who wanted to know about my tragic backstory,” he said, still smiling. “I just gave you what you asked for.”

  She huffed, crossing her arms. “Next time, I’m sticking to boring, surface-level questions. Like… I don’t know, what your favourite colour is.”

  “Blue,” Darius said promptly, his grin unabated. “But feel free to dig into that if you think there’s some trauma attached.”

  Lena groaned again, though this time it was mostly for show. “You’re such a jerk. Why do I—Never mind,” she cut herself off, flushing again. Darius tilted his head curiously but didn’t press, instead nudging her companionably.

  “Come on, then. I’ve shared my backstory; what about yours?”

  Lena glared at him suspiciously for a moment before relenting. “Not much to say, really. Pretty standard sob story - parents were walking home one night when they were killed by a drunk Imperial officer going way over the speed limit. I was eight at the time. My extended family didn’t want to take me in, so I was shuffled around into a bunch of foster homes. Around that time the Freeholders managed to run the Empire off my world, so I decided to join up as soon as they would let me.”

  Darius coughed awkwardly, unsure how to respond.

  “Yeah, not so fun when the shoe is on the other foot, is it?” Lena snarked at him.

  They walked in silence for a few moments before the ridiculousness of the situation hit Darius all at once, and he started to chuckle. It caught him off guard—small at first, just a quiet laugh under his breath—but it quickly built until he couldn’t stop himself.

  “You jerk!” Lena said, smacking him on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble. “You’re not supposed to laugh when someone tells you a sad story!” Her tone was sharp, but her expression wavered, and her eyes darted away for just a second.

  “Sorry,” Darius managed, still laughing as he held up his hands in surrender. “It’s not the story—I mean, yeah, it’s awful, but it’s just…” He stopped, sucking in a breath to steady himself. “We’re both so bad at this. I mean, seriously. Could we make this any more awkward?”

  Lena huffed, crossing her arms and turning away from him. For a moment, she looked like she was trying to maintain her indignation, but then she shifted slightly, her hand rising to cover her mouth.

  His grin widened.

  “I saw that~” he teased.

  “Shut up,” Lena snapped, but Darius could hear the smile she was trying to swallow. “You’re insensitive.”

  “True,” he admitted freely.

  Lena’s posture remained stiff as they walked the last stretch of the street, but her shoulders shook once - just barely - and Darius had to bite down on another inappropriate laugh. She’d turned her head slightly, and the corner of her mouth was twitching upward.

  Darius magnanimously pretended not to see it as they turned the corner and found themselves at their destination. The market was a jumbled sprawl of makeshift stalls and tarp-covered tables arranged haphazardly across a wide open lot. Wares of every imaginable kind were displayed in a riot of colours and shapes: salvaged electronics, refurbished tools, unmarked containers of industrial lubricants, and other miscellaneous goods that didn’t bear too much scrutiny. The acrid tang of burnt wiring mingled with the greasy aroma of street food, creating a smell that was uniquely, unmistakably Exeter Station.

  Lena let out a low whistle, previous discussion forgotten as her eyes scanned the bustling crowd. “Wow. It’s like a junkyard threw up and decided it was a shopping centre.”

  “Yeah,” Darius agreed, slinging his duffle bag higher on his shoulder. “But it’s my kind of junkyard. No receipts, no questions, no judgment.”

  Lena wasn’t fooled by his attempt at seeming knowledgeable.

  “Uh-huh. Well, go on then,” she said slyly. “Show me how it’s done. I’m sure you’re an expert at selling ‘misplaced’ goods.”

  Darius rolled his shoulders and pretended to survey the market with a seasoned eye, giving himself an extra second to think. He didn’t actually have a plan for where to start, but admitting that would only give Lena more ammunition. He shifted his duffle bag and gestured vaguely at the chaotic sprawl of stalls.

  “Well, being as you’re so young,” he began, pitching his voice with exaggerated nonchalance, “I thought it might be a good opportunity for you to show your skills. You know, prove you have what it takes…” he trailed off at the decidedly unimpressed look on her face. “Not that I’m doubting you, of course,” he chuckled nervously.

  “I’m not that much younger than you,” she sniffed, tilting her head back to look down her nose at him. Darius knew better than to point out how entertaining it was when she puffed herself up, like a cat trying to make itself look bigger. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her get defensive about her age—or her experience—and he doubted it would be the last.

  “Besides, I’m way more experienced than you are, and that counts for a lot,” she continued.

  “Of course,” Darius nodded along placatingly, switching tactics with practised ease. “And I’m sure that, being more experienced than I am, you wouldn’t mind helping me out with selling my stuff?”

  Lena eyed him suspiciously, but he wasn’t blind to the way that she perked up at the flattery.

  Heh. Just like Lyra.

  “Don’t think I don’t see what you’re trying to do,” she said through narrowed eyes. Darius did his best to look innocent, to little effect. “But… fine. I suppose I can help out. Honestly, where would you be without me?” she sniffed dramatically, tone dripping with mock exasperation.

  “Lost and helpless, no doubt,” Darius replied smoothly, the words rolling off his tongue with the kind of ease only years of experience with an insufferably similar younger sister could provide.

  Lena harrumphed dramatically, tossing her head as though his agreement was only to be expected. She turned toward the nearest stall, her pace brisk, but Darius caught the faint, unmistakable curve of a pleased smile tugging at her lips.

  Darius followed, smirking to himself. She’d taken the bait perfectly, and if her swagger was anything to go by, he wouldn’t need to lift a finger. Just as planned.