Holy Seven

Chapter Four

Hal propped himself casually up against the wall near Lucky in the flight room. His arms crossed, he stared at the new guy in front. The two older pilots had cautious looks upon their faces; the one watching Jux and the other, Alex.

Jux, for his part, had kept his arm around Haven's neck the entire while after leaving the deck and the young man had done nothing to discourage the fact. Lucky didn't think it was a matter of being interested because Haven was as cool grounded as he was in the air. And Jux, he noticed, was shooting the odd glance at Hal while he was at it, more than likely checking to see if his play still had its audience.

"So Dog," Jux smeared a smile across his face, "What'dya think?" Then he looked at the other gunner-navigator, the pair of them easily almost the same size, just under five ten and the shortest men in the flight crew. "I showed Dog here your radio recall so he could see how your rig was working and how you flew. Damn sweet work kid."

The boy didn't blush. Instead, he nodded as if he expected nothing else and, being given proper praise, saw no ego-trip to be had in it. At seventeen, he already carried the old hand mentality that you didn't see on pilots until they were well into their prime and no longer had anything left to prove.

"It's a pleasure, Haven," Dog extended his hand in greeting.

With a smooth motion of shoulders, Alex slid out from under Jux's arm and took the proffered hand. "Thank you, sir. I hope I prove to be valuable to your project."

Dog's eyes narrowed and Lucky could see the wheels spinning. Something was running through the old man's head.

"I'm sure you will. Now - these are your ground crew. Number one, Chops McCallen, you've met. He's your ammunitions expert and he'll be going over your flier to transfer your gun system to Lucky's rig." The boy did not show any sign of disapproval in regards to this plan and only let his gaze sweep over the pilots, finding Lucky and nodding to him, before taking the mechanic's hand and acknowledging him as well. "Oh-two, Dos Smith, is our programmer. He'll want to check out your gunning program."

"Of course. I'm more than willing to show it to you, Dos. I built the program myself." The boy did sound somewhat proud this time and regarded, openly, the dark haired man who stood and shook hands. It was an instant, but wary liking the pair seemed to take of one another.

"Just so's you don't take over m'job, Haven," Dos joked and the boy nodded soberly.

"No worries there. I like it, but it's only a hobby. I don't think I'll be allowed to do programming in the Project; Mr. Wold's orders."

Dos opened his mouth to ask why, but Dog interrupted him before he could speak. "Oh-three, Hefty Reynolds, is your cook and our mechanic. He'll be looking at the flier with Chops and yourself to see what can be transferred to the other planes."

"I was assured by Mr. Wold that my flier would not be taken apart, sir" the boy hedged, something icy in his calm tone.

"No, not taken apart. But we may wish to make adjustments to the others based on what your flier has in it. We'll need your flier in working order, Haven. We have no intentions of using it for spare parts," Dog reassured him.

The tension in the boy's shoulders eased and he nodded a greeting toward Hefty.

"Jake Nero is oh-four and he's in the tower, I'm oh-five and I'm Douglas Hikashari, but you can call me Dog. Oh-six is Gus Holland, and he's our top pilot. He works with Matthew Bower, oh-nine, as his gunner and NAV." Both men stood as they were introduced and Gus gave a friendly, hound dog smile.

"Issac Pedersen is oh-eight and his gunner is one-two, Ethan Kawski," Dog pointed the two men out as the boy mouthed "twelve" at Ethan, getting a welcoming grin from the other gunner.

"One-oh, Hal Unde there, is the pilot for that kling-on you've had to put up with, Justin Reed." Dog nodded his head behind the boy.

Alex turned his head and looked at Jux who laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. "You'll get it later, kid."

With a look of confusion as if he'd missed something, and how everyone knew that he had, in fact missed quite a lot, Alex lifted a brow and looked calmly at Hal. There was a moment of quiet between the pilot and Lucky's new gunner before Alex nodded, though a good deal less openly, to which Hal grunted but only moved to cross his arms more tightly.

Dog continued. "And you've met Captain Hendricks and Commander Owens. These men are military and while they are stuck up enough to use their signifiers, it doesn't mean that they're anywhere above any of the rest of us. We all work as a team. Your leader in space is Lucky and Gus, depending on who I put ahead. I'm in charge of your flight plans and so I'll declare the leader for each flight but those are the two you fall back on. Other than that, we're equals except for Commander Owens who works directly under Mr. Wold and is not on base often. Any questions?"

"I don't like the looks of him," Hal murmured to Lucky as they watched Dog talk the kid over. "There's something wrong with him. Something's just.. off somehow."

"Off? What do you mean?" Lucky tore his eyes away from the new pilot look confusedly at Hal. "C'mon. You know Jux is just playing you."

"Nah, it's not Jux. It's the kid himself. He's got something wrong with him. The way he looks at you, like he's. reading you and shit. Not like a person at all, but more like something that's inhuman."

Lucky cast his gaze back over the kid and shrugged. He was more open minded perhaps than Hal. But even he could say something was... off. What kind of 'off,' he wasn't sure. Hell, the kid was seventeen and a crack shot flier pilot. He would have had to have walked to the beat of a different drummer to get there, wouldn't he? Still.

Still. Lucky almost smiled at the revelation. Alex Haven was too still. He seemed as if he could take in a room at a glance and know how he ought to fit himself within the men and women there. He was the ultimate grey man, for beyond his beauty, he had a sense of sexlessness about him that left Lucky feeling strangely discomfited. And the way he moved. The stillness in him transformed his action, his moving from one motion to the next.

It was, Lucky finally decided, as if Alex Haven were someone underwater. The lights played off of his hair in a dusky, half burnt out halo, dancing off of the dark veil of creamy brown. His skin was pale, he hadn't spent much time out in the sun or he was incredibly fastidious with sun block creams. That in itself was odd on a young man who would have had to spend hours and hours outside, honing his craft. Alex would stand and you could almost think he was built of stone or coral, wavering only because the light above him shifted. Then he might move and you couldn't have said he ever was anything but moving, neither could you say that you saw him set himself to motion at all.

It was just so... 'off.' Hal was right. There wasn't a strangeness about him, but more something otherworldly. That otherworldliness was the thing that had arrested Lucky at the first sight of the young pilot. It struck a chord in Lucky that, unlike Hal's instant dislike, had given Lucky a sense that he would never be able to understand the why's and wherefore's of the boy. It made him look at the boy as he might have looked at something so different from himself that he didn't even need to worry about comparisons.

But of course, that was ridiculous. Alex Haven was a kid, with more talent in his pinkie finger than Lucky would ever have in his life, but he was still a friggin' kid.

"Hendricks!" Dog's bark cut across Lucky's thoughts.

"Yessir?" Lucky inquired and moved off of the wall, giving Hal a quieting hand on the arm before moving to meet with the radio man.

"I want you to show Haven around. He's your gunner, so you've got care of him."

"Shoot Dawg!" Jux whined. "What about me? Me'n Haven have stuff to talk over!"

Dog pulled his glasses off of his eyes and stared at the blonde. "Jux, if I leave you with Haven, I am not sure you'd ever get him to his own room."

Laughter erupted and Jux flushed. Beside him, Alex glanced around the room and then slowly frowned as if he were beginning to get a clue. It was interesting to watch the idea struggle to be made known to him. It seemed more of a consideration of the facts than the instinctual abhorrence that most of the men had when originally confronted with the concept of Jux or Hal's sexual natures.

"Somebody has to break him in, Dawg," Jux grinned and tucked his arm around his fellow gunner again. His smile turned on full beam as he looked at Haven.

Alex, on the other hand, only quirked a brow. "I suspect," he calmly presented, "that they are discussing your preference?"

If the rest of the crew could have laughed any harder, they might have. Alex, looking somewhat confused and Jux with his face flaming red, both seemed somewhat out of place amongst the laughing men.

Jux pulled Alex closer and leaning in, through the laughter, winked. "If he gots it, he flaunts it, I always say, kid.." he said in what could only be a flaming gay voice. Jux, who was not necessarily gay at all, but loved to play the role.

"Hal!" a warning cry from Issac as Hal erupted from the side of the room.

"Fuckin' asswipe!" Hal roared and in shock, Jux took a step back. Issac reached out and grabbed Hal by the arms but was easily tossed away, falling into some of the chairs and effectively clearing a space for Hal to reach his lover and the new man.

Lucky realized, even as he was taking a step in to stop the fist from flying, that Hal was not reaching for Jux but was going for Alex and that he, Lucky, would not get there in time to stop the blow from hitting the boy.

Alex, turning his head, caught sight of the fist and the reddened face behind it. Without a sound or any expression, the young man swiftly shifted his weight backwards, lifting both hands and catching Hal's forearm between flattened palms. A sudden move on the part of the young man while Hal's weight was shifted off balance, and suddenly Hal was on the ground, a knee in his shoulder and a lithe arm around his neck, his chin turned at an uncomfortable and dangerous angle to the side. All of this with a calm, unconcerned look on Alex's face. As if he were doing nothing more than moving a box to the side.

It was eerie, staring into those dark green eyes. They were the forbidden forest that would not notice the traveler walking amongst the trees. In many ways, those trees having lived longer than the man and knowing they would outlast him as well. Alex's arms showed some small strain but Hal was breathing heavily through his nostrils, his body frozen. He, as well as the rest of the men in the room, were suddenly realizing what a precarious position he was in. It didn't take a genius to see that a swift, not too hard pull on Haven's part and Hal's neck would no longer function properly.

Impending Death was a very effective enthusiasm killer. Silence reigned in the room as the men slowly rounded the pair. Hal was breathing in panic and beside Lucky, Jux was sobbing.

Lucky took a deep breath, moving forward. "Ease off kid. He's not gonna do anything to hurt you. Nobody here is going to do anything to hurt you." He wasn't sure if it was the right thing to say. He'd seen much the same cold gaze in men from Crosshammer; men who had had to take on the front line, losing their fliers into the atmosphere and walking themselves back to their rendezvous points on the colonial stations. They had killed plenty of men with their bare hands just trying to get out alive. This kid, it was almost as if he had the same look on him. Seventeen and already looking like a seasoned veteran, willing to deal death to even his own crew.

Alex turned his head, his dark hair crossing over his eyes as he met Lucky's look. A moment passed in tense silence then with a slow hitch of his breath, he released Hal and took a careful step back. Hal fell to the floor, grasping his throat, and in a moment Lucky noticed two things. One was Jux whispering "Thank God!" and rushing to grab hold of Hal. The blonde was trembling even as he said louder, "Stupid prick, you so deserved that!" and his voice didn't quite ring true. And the second, a soft click of a safety being put back on.

Lucky turned his head and noticed the same dead look on Dog's face as the radio man made a motion to replace his piece into the back of his suit.

It was almost as if Dog wasn't surprised.

~*~**~*~

Chapter Five

Their steps resounded in the empty hall. As they walked, Lucky considered the young man he'd been assigned to and the confrontation with Hal. It struck him strangely how in the end, Haven had said nothing to Hal. There had been no threats, no apologies, no wondering why. Instead the young man kept back while the crew rounded about Hal and Jux and when Lucky looked back, all that had shown on the gunner's face was a calm acceptance of events. It seemed eerie to Lucky.

That sensation followed them as Lucky began the tour of the facilities. It felt surreal, as if the plain aluminum and steel walls were from a dream and he was walking with a spirit guide through a different world. Perhaps he was dreaming the moment? He might have had a dream like this one night long past; walking down a long, unending corridor with a multitude of doors, each one open but the choice still unmade, with a silent shadow at his side. But he couldn't say for sure now.

In a bid to dispel the discomfort, Lucky gave a half hearted grin. "So, that flier was pretty amazing. You build it?"

Haven didn't look at him, eyes watching the corridor and doors with an almost machinelike precision, "No, I built the program that it functions by, but the actual frame was done by a colleague of mine."

"Oh?" Lucky found himself suddenly interested. "When was this?"

"Four months ago. We began the end of last northern winter time, on a CU on the southern tip of Mars. The CU was attacked two weeks after we'd completed the project. The gun system hadn't been installed and the flier was no good in repelling the attack. I escaped to a nearby ally mine where I finished the gun system and program."

"Wait," Lucky breathed as he tried to make sense of the fly by the boy had just performed, "Can we go a step or two back? I'm not as young as you." He chuckled. "You've got more than fifteen years on me, kid."

"Nine," the boy corrected him.

Lucky frowned. "Nine.. what?"

Haven blinked as if coming back to himself and with a flash of something too swift to name, gave Lucky a quick glance before he shook his head. "No, you're right. You're thirty two, that makes it fifteen exactly."

"Not counting in birthdays," Lucky smiled. "You carrying around a calculator in your head or something, kid?"

"No," Haven asked too quickly. "Why?"

"Nothing. Just joking." Lucky gave Haven a thoughtful look. "You didn't really have the most normal childhood, didja?"

Haven's lips curled at the corners in what could be considered a wry grin. "No, not normal in the least."

When the boy was no more forthcoming than that, Lucky chose to ignore the topic and return to their original discussion. "So, tell me about this again? You guys started on the flier last northern winter? I keep forgetting that the colonies do their time by the earth calendar instead of the Martian calendar."

"Most CU's do, yes. There are some of the more radical groups that keep to the Martian calendar and the Martian day. But they still have to go by the Earth calendar for transportation purposes." And Alex was right. It didn't do to have your shipment come in during hurricane season down on Earth.

Alex took a breath as if he was unsure how to proceed, "We were based out of CU675 on Southern Mars."

"That unit was taken over by one of the rival companies, wasn't it?" Lucky was starting to put things together. Some of the companies enjoyed the profit to be found in the lack of law on Mars a little too much. "It was a starter company, I think I remember. Put up there by some trillionaire stationed in the Peruvian mountains. But something happened. I don't watch news much, though."

Alex wasn't too put off by Lucky's lack of knowledge however. "So far you've gotten it right. His name was Uriah Trias. He died from a stroke last earth winter, shortly after putting us to work on the flier project. We'd gotten the blueprints done for the program and flier and he okayed them. Then a week and a half later he was hospitalized." Alex stopped his story with a considering pause. "Is this thorough enough for you? I'm unsure how to make it more obvious."

"Ah.. yes. It's fine." Lucky blushed, feeling like an idiot. Alex acted as if he were trying to explain something to a six year old. Of course, one should expect that from a teenager, right? They were masters at putting others down. It was a hobby for most of them. At least, that was what Lucky could remember from when he had been seventeen. Still, it didn't seem to be a direct, pointed jab at Lucky's inability to follow, but more of a calculated decision to check on their communication. That in itself was out of the ordinary as well.

Alex Haven nodded and apparently satisfied, kept on. "At his death, Mr. Trias's that is, the company passed to his son. His son decided to continue the flier project. But he lost some connections with nearby ally companies, leaving us with only one other small single head company as a contact. The other, larger companies had lost loyalty at the death of Mr. Trias. It was one of these, a company called United Resources, that owns some fifteen of the mine sites on Mars, that attacked us later that year. Apparently the Trias junior, had attempted a take-over of a small mine near one of UR's mines that would have put him at a strategic advantage when it comes to a particular bed in the rock. Because of his financial backing, he was able to outbid them and United Resources took offense at it."

"Okay," Lucky nodded, indicating he got it. It was an old story really. Lawless town and the new upstarts getting in the way. Most likely the official record was something along the lines of renegade miners having a day where they simply felt their oats more than usual, ran another mine's men off the land, and settled down to protect the resource while their bosses dickered over who got what.

"So we were attacked and I left in the flier. Justice Ireland, who was the creator, took his prototype and we made plans to meet with the rest of the company at an adjoining mine that was more neutral ground. Once there, I worked on the final considerations for the program and put it and the gun system into the flier. Then when it was functional, I worked with another tech there in programming some of their equipment. We did odd jobs before the mine asked me to leave."

"Did the programs not work? Good programmers are hard to find," Lucky queried.

"No, they were fine. I was, however, not from the same company." Alex sounded nervous, something that might have gone unnoticed in any other person, but because he had so rarely said anything with emotion in it, Lucky picked up on uncertainty instantly and fixed a sharp look at the boy. The teen managed to blush slightly and shrugged. "I'd rather not talk about it." Then, veiling his calm complacency about him like a thick wool coat, he forged on, "Mr. Wold asked me to work for him a few weeks after that. He'd heard I was without company and the flier was up for grabs. He was not the only person who asked me. He was, however, the only employer who would take me with the flier."

"Because of your age." Lucky felt it necessary to add because he wasn't sure that was the entire story. In fact, he felt as if much had been censored from the original tale.

"Partly, yes. And he also agreed to the least restrictions. I can still go up, albeit as a NAV, and I can help with machine work, if needed." Haven did not look up, but instead kept his face down, hands in his pockets.

The boy looked like he felt lost. It set on his shoulders, that sense of loss, very well. It brought out a humanity in him that had heretofore seemed lacking.

It made Lucky want to reach out, put his arm around the kid like he often did to Dos, and let him just feel like he wasn't alone in the world. But you couldn't just do that to a kid like Alex Haven. Lucky knew that at least. You couldn't just reach out and touch someone who was a programming wizard and a killer and whatever else it was in Alex Haven to make him someone far different from anyone Lucky had ever met.

"So," Lucky was desperate to find something to fill time, and happy that their trip through the decks had ended. "This is the elevator here. This is our aft shaft, and when the guys say we're heading up the ass, that's what they mean." Why did he feel so damn crude saying that? The green eyes looking at him made him want to apologize for his language.

"Ah," the boy nodded and they entered the elevator in silence, rode in silence up to the flight deck, and exited at the far south end, in the repair hangar.

"Okay, this holds our secondary units and my baby, all waiting for gun systems and other various parts. I think Mr. Wold was talking of re-outfitting them using your system."

"Hmm," Haven mused as he left Lucky behind at the door, making a bee line for the nearest plane, a flier that was more than fifteen years old. It sat, waiting as a scrap piece, there for when the next on duty flier needed a part. That was one thing about fliers. They were, as a rule, somewhat interchangeable with one another. It made repairing them fairly easy.

"That old thing is down to it's shell, I think," Lucky laughed slightly. "We strip as much as we can when they go out of commission."

"So I see," Haven reached up and touched the flier on the side. "Always going to the newer model," he mused and then turned toward the other fliers. But not before Lucky noticed the pained expression on his face.

Hell, for a kid without any real emotional responses, the boy was managing to show quite a range in a short time.

"Yep.. guess that's the way the world works, huh?" Lucky asked with a half smile. He watched the boy's shoulders tighten and wondered at it.

"Yeah, guess so," Haven muttered as he went to the next flier.

As Haven rested a hand on the side of another flier, this one sleek and silver as a bullet, Lucky leaned aside on a ladder and watched him.

He was still an incredible creation. His dark hair remained loose, in long slender waves down beside his face and against his neck. His body had the slender life of youth, without the overbulking of musculature. His dark eyes told stories all their own. It was to be a hobby, Lucky could tell already, watching Alex Haven. But then, the young man was easy to watch.

It wasn't a sexual attraction in the least, he assured himself mentally. Alex Haven didn't incite such feelings or thoughts in Lucky. Not that he could have. Lucky was strictly a woman's man. Two gay men was more than enough for the station. Not that Lucky had anything against gay men, either. He just liked women and he liked having his hands full of soft hills of smooth flesh rather than angles and plains as flat as a table top.

No, watching Haven would be something more along the lines of a lingering fascination with something that wasn't quite fixed in reality. Haven didn't strike Lucky as manly. He was a boy still. He held the beauty of childhood mingled with something alien. It didn't appear as anything fixed into the human species and more than likely it would disappear in a few years when Alex grew into his body. Until then, he moved in a smooth pattern, like ripples on a water far over one's head.

"This is my baby," he finally mentioned, having had another eye's filling of the otherworldliness of his gunner. "We'll put your system into her. Can the program you have work with a two seater? Could you make it work?"

Haven's hand remained on the flier and Lucky liked the reverent touch. The boy turned those dark eyes on Lucky, not noticing how the pilot had to hold his breath a moment. "I probably could. But I think you'll have to have Dos do it for you. One of the stipulations is that I am to have nothing to do with the programming in the central gunnery systems. Adding it to your flier would require a change in the protocols. But wouldn't you prefer to have his system? He sounded proud of his program."

"It might be a good idea to have a back up program." Lucky was confused. Why had he said that? Dos would have kicked him good and hard for suggesting someone else take his job.

"No," the young man shook his head. "I think the single program would be best. There's less chance of having a conflict with just one program. My program would work best kept in the flier. Let Dos do his work in the rest of them." It sounded so cut and dry, almost as if the gunner had the right to call the shots in regards to his program.

"Why can't you do programming?" Lucky let himself be curious for once. And nosy.

Alex drew his hand down and pushed his fists into his pockets. Then he looked around with a casual air and gestured with a toss of his head to some other part of the flight deck. A rather uninteresting part, in Lucky's view, "What's over here?" Then he began to saunter over and away from the silver flier.

Lucky, frustrated, followed his gunner, and took the subtle hint to leave some things well enough alone.

~*~**~*~

Chapter Six

"Damn, Haven!" Dos emerged from the cockpit and grinned wildly. "This is some serious shit. You sure you don't mind me getting so deeply into it?"

The teen chuckled lightly, a rare enough occurrence they had discovered, yet seemingly far more able to do so when around Dos than any other. "It's fine, Dos. I trust you to use it well. Besides, it's only a program."

"Only a program? What you been smokin' kid? You did some ground work here for possible gun systems. Sheeeaht! You could be a business owner yourself in a few years just by this program! You should copyright it."

"You really think it's that good?" Haven leaned on the ship's side and looked up at the dark laughing eyes above him. "I mean.." and he blushed slightly, "you really think it might be a base program for others?"

"Easy," Dos nodded. "It's got some fancy footwork in here, some of it I can't quite get, but I figure I'll figure it through eventually. Still, I'm thinking that it's a wonderful way to incorporate simple muscle movements, eye movements, that kinda shit, into the gunnery system. It reads the pilot like no other program I've seen. At least, I haven't seen anything like this. Did you piggy back on someone's creation?" Yet Dos was pretty damn sure there was nothing but genius under his fingertips. He felt wild, enchanted, as if a new world were opening before him.

"Ah, no.." the boy looked confused and then concerned. "Dos," he called out carefully.

Dos jumped from the ladder and dusted his hands on his chest, tilting his head to one side. "What's it, kid?"

"Well, I just wanted to remind you," the boy nervously continued, "that.. it's my program? I mean, I don't mind if you piggy back on it. And I-"

"Hell, kid. I wouldn't dream of stealing your program from you! Like I said, I think we need to copyright it before Mr. Wold starts thinking he can take advantage. Not that I don't like Mr. Wold. Just I think that you wanna cover your ass, yanno? Even the nicest of guys gets to be a real jerk when money's on the line."

"Actually, that's not what I meant," Alex Haven bit his lower lip and stared at the side of the plane, tracing a joining seam with his middle finger.

"Yeah?" Dos reached out, before he thought better, and touched the boy's shoulder. Both of them sprang apart, Dos because he realized how he'd crossed some undefined boundary in Haven's world, and Alex simply for his own unspoken reasons. It felt good though, to see that Alex looked more scared than deadly. It meant that the nine day's worth of time Dos had put into just getting the kid to smile had paid off. "Sorry, Haven. Easy. I'm not gonna do nuthin."

"I know," Haven snapped. Both of the young men recognized none of the fire in the words was directed toward Dos. The boy's shoulders hunched and he sighed. "It's my fault. Never mind. And no - I can't copyright it. You could. If you pull anything out of it." He didn't look up, instead, kept his head facing away.

"What? Fuck that, kid! I'd be a shmuck if I did that!" Dos almost dropped in shock. Did the kid not know what it was that he had here?? He had no business just offering it up to some jo-shmo walking in off the deck.

"No, no it doesn't matter, Dos." Alex lifted his hands in a placating manner, "Just - you'll see, okay?"

Dos frowned, stepping closer and noticing how Haven didn't step away. "Look. Haven. You're part of the crew. We don't stab no one in the back. I'll help you copyright it, but I sure as hell am not going to steal it from you."

Haven's mouth twisted into a painful grimace, something that might have been a smile but for the import behind changing it. "Better you than Mr. Wold, Dos." He tensed his fingers until they made a small fist and then shrugged into turning away. "Look, just do what you want with it, it doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter? Haven, you can't d-"

"That's it," the boy's gaze pinned Dos in silence. "That's just it. I can't. Don't sweat it, Dos. I won't think any differently of you for it."

He was gone from the hangar before Dos could do anything but stare aghast, mind whirling.

He'd said.. can't. What the hell?

Outside, Dos could hear the incoming fliers. Hal and Lucky had gone out for a short patrol, Lucky using a secondary gun system Dos had set up for emergencies and placed in his flier.

Can't? It had to have been a case of teen angst kicking up, right? Was it because of his age? Programming prowess didn't depend about age. Or because of someone on the colonial unit he'd come from? Maybe the programmer had died and Alex was passing it off as his own. Only that didn't fit because whenever Dos had a question, the kid could answer it without even looking at the damned screen. He knew the program inside and out, as only the programmer could.

"Except." Dos muttered and turned, staring at the flier, then with a determined look on his face, he climbed the ladder. "The tertiary code in the programming. Wonder if there's something in that thread. 'Member what he said about it being unnecessary.."

While Dos worked, the fliers landed. Lucky walked the flight deck with Hal and Jux. It amazed him, the difference between the two men since Haven had arrived. The kid had thrown a real wrench into the complacency of Hal. And Jux had taken just about every opportunity to throw another log on the fire, if it wasn't anything more than insisting that he ate by Haven or throwing his arm around an unresisting Haven's shoulder now and again.

Haven hadn't done anything, really, to continue Jux's attentions. He'd seemed almost, confused by the touches and the nearness of Jux. But he'd also allowed Jux closer than he'd allowed anyone else. He wasn't a young man easily approached and there seemed to be an inner radar for personal space. Jux, annoying as he was, was the sole person who could enter the space and not ping on the sensors. Though, Lucky thought it was more a matter of Jux being nothing near enough of a threat. Hal's gunner was hell behind a WEPs system, but he couldn't throw a three legged dog to save his life.

Jux hummed merrily as he headed toward the doors that led into the main building, winking at Lucky as usual. Lucky slowed some to allow Hal to catch up. Hal was just on this side of fuming.

"You gonna tell me what's going on?"

"Fuckin' nothing is going on, that's what." Hal growled. "That's what's the problem. He doesn't even look at me anymore. It's like I've just disappeared off the face of the earth or something."

"Damn," Lucky whistled low.

A dangerous grin broke across the other pilot's angered face. "But he always finds time to talk to that prick kid."

Lucky didn't know what to say after that. Hal hadn't approached Haven once since that meeting when he'd been subdued by the teen. But he watched Lucky's gunner as if he were thinking of the many ways he could commit third degree murder, using the boy as his main target. It could be Haven he was glaring at half the time, or maybe it was Jux who was always hanging over Haven.

"You know, I don't think Haven likes Jux all that much. He rarely talks to him."

"Doesn't need to talk to him to bang him.." Hal spat. "I should know."

Lucky took a breath. This was getting too heavy for comfort. "Hal, maybe you should talk to Dog about this. Haven is one of the crew now. He ought to be afforded some respect, even when he's not around. This is getting a little too intense. Even for you."

Hal laughed, short and angry. "I have, Hendricks. I have talked to him. And he told me not to worry about it. He told me that Haven wouldn't have Jux and to just wait for Jux to figure it out. But what the hell is that all about? He doesn't know this Haven kid any better than any of us. All we know is that Mr. Wold recruited him and that he was being chased by a CU all the way home. That's shit, if you ask me!"

Lucky thought back to the look on Dog's face, the steady replacing of the safety on a gun, and murmured, "I think Dog knows something we don't." He didn't want to talk about his suspicions, not sure how they'd come off to an already irate teammate. "I'm sure Mr. Wold has filled him in on the kid. You and I both know they were doing some serious work on who they'd get to take the number seven slot. But Hal, think about it. The kid is seventeen. That's a baby. Jux has more class than that."

"I thought he did," Hal groused as they entered the main door. "Hey, thanks for trying, Lucky. I appreciate it." He reached over and caught Lucky's gear buckle, giving a tug before heading off toward the direction of his rooms.

Lucky sighed, watching his friend go before heading off to his own rooms in the opposite direction.

The pilot quarters were interspersed throughout the place. Having them all in one section could mean you'd lose all of your pilots with one wrong hit to the base. It made sense to Lucky. Gus thought that having them in separate areas meant that you were more likely to lose someone. Either way, one or many, it paid off somehow. They were able to reach various hangars and support systems throughout the base more quickly and they hadn't gotten a hit in the six years they'd been up and running.

The rooms themselves were bare for the most part. A bunk, toilet, sink, tub/shower, and a central control unit were in each The men chose how to decorate their space. Lucky had filled his quarters with plants and green lamps and pictures of far off places that mostly didn't exist anymore. He'd have wanted to find that Utopian earth like planet filled with various new species, greenery, and clean air. That was why he'd gotten into flying in the first place. But biology class and he didn't get along. And plants don't have much of a future. Piloting itself was good. He'd just filled in spaces. But he never forgot his first love, that dream of being somewhere as beautiful as this old ratty planet had been once, almost two hundred years before.

He'd just finished a wash when the door chimed and he opened while still in his towel. "Dog," he stated by way of greeting and then ushered the radio man into the room. "Let me get dressed."

"Of course." Dog settled himself into a chair by the door while Lucky went into the bathroom with a handful of clothing.

"You know, Hal is pissed about this new kid. He might cause trouble." Lucky didn't have any qualms telling Dog the gossip. His flight planner needed to know things like that. "Thinks Haven is after Jux."

Dog was silent for so long that Lucky poked his head out of the doorway. "Dog? He says you told him not to worry about it."

"So I did." The older man was twirling fingers in an intricate pattern about one another, as if drawing on the air.

"And I noticed you the other day. You don't trust Haven either," Lucky continued.

"No, I don't." Dog didn't offer any further information. "But he's turning out okay."

"You didn't expect him to?" Lucky tucked his towel over his arm as he walked out, buttoning his shirt and giving Dog a piercing glance.

Dog laughed low. "You notice too much, Lucky."

"Well, you make it pretty plain."

"Guess I do." Dog shrugged. "It'll come out eventually. But I'd prefer to keep it under wraps. Suffice it to say that Mr. Wold has asked me to keep an eye on him and I'd like it if you tell me if you saw any unusual behavior from oh-seven."

Lucky laughed. "Dog? The kid is unusual. Everything he does is strange."

Dog smirked. "I mean unusual for Alex."

Lucky toweled his hair as he padded barefoot through his place, letting his mind roam over the brief conversation with Hal. "You think you might give Jux a talking to? Hal is going to bust out if we don't do something about that."

"Sure, I can talk to them both," Dog remarked, standing.

"And don't worry Dog. I won't say anything to the crew about this."

The Japanese man gave a small laugh. "That's why I talked to you, Lucky. See you later at dinner."

Lucky paced his room some time after Dog had left. He had grown to respect the kid that Dog was apparently watching out for, even if he didn't understand him. There was something almost fragile about the young gunner that drew Lucky in.

They'd taken out a couple of runs that first day and then a few more that week. Haven had proven to be a very capable gunner. He was a young man who wanted details and often barked out questions at the most important of times. Yet he had the foresight to ask in ways that Lucky was able to answer with one or two words and he'd proven to be a quick study. It was almost, sometimes, as if he became part of the machinery.

Lucky couldn't understand though, the strange lapses in conversation that they would run into. Nevertheless, he'd found a pattern to it. Haven didn't want to talk about anything personal, nothing having to do with his programming ability, nor the CU that he'd come from. But still, he'd let enough go while he and Lucky had their daily walks down to the dining hall to let Lucky put a few things together.

For instance, the flier that Haven had flown in was made by a family friend. A man named Justice, who had died in the attack on their base. He'd tried to fly the prototype out and it had been blown up, with Justice in it. Haven seemed to feel the loss keenly.

Also, Lucky had discovered that Haven's family had died some ten years before. It bothered Lucky to think that this kid had been an orphan on a CU since he was seven. But having Justice had been fortuitous, and Haven seemed to be under the impression that he had been older than most seven year olds anyway. It wasn't a matter of self pity. Few things were worthy of pity to Haven.

In fact, Haven seemed to have little care at all for himself. He spoke of himself as one might speak of a disposable, thrown away toy. And while Lucky caught at odd times, a look of hurt on the boy's face, he remained for the most part impassive and unconcerned with his future. He did not expect to fly though he was easily one of the best pilots Lucky had ever seen. Neither did he want to further his programming which would have made him almost invaluable to anyone with half an eye for talent. Machine work and gunning were a small world for a kid with such a universal ball of talent to live in for the rest of his life.

Lucky sighed, turning over from where he'd settled into a chair for a short nap when a small chime broke through his quiet. He stood, leant over, picking up a pair of shoes from the side of the door then opened it. "Hang on. Let me pull these on."

"Sleeping again?" his gunner's voice sounded almost.. amused? It was amazing how in the course of a little more than two weeks his gunner was slowly but consistently opening himself up during their private times in the cockpit and during their walks down the halls. Alex had even begun to tell slight jokes, though it seemed to Lucky as if Alex were unsure if such endeavors to connect would be acceptable. It was almost as if the boy expected at any time for Lucky to lash out at him. That made Lucky wonder just what kind of man this Justice had been. Not to mention just what kind of colonials it was that Haven had found himself amongst ten years before when he was orphaned.

"You know me," Lucky stood and pushed his foot deep into his second shoe before reaching over and grabbing his jacket, always prepared in case they had to leave from the dining hall. "I snatch sleep whenever I can, lazy ass that I am."

Haven's brow arched, fine and delicate on his surreal face and his lips curved at the corners in what Lucky had come to believe was as close to a full out smile as the kid had ever got. "You don't look like an ass to me. Your ears aren't long enough."

Lucky chuckled and shook his head. "You're getting better, kid. Two weeks ago, you wouldn't have had a quip to give me for that one."

"Just talented, I guess." the boy blushed and tucking his own hands into his flight jacket, he followed Lucky down the hall.

"You can say that again."

"Just talented, I guess," Haven bit his lip when Lucky laughed aloud.

"You are getting good at that. Where'd you learn that one?"

"Justice used to do that all the time," the teen shrugged and his face shifted into the granite set that it got whenever they were getting too close to something he didn't want to talk about.

"Well, one thing that guy taught you was a sense of humor. Not everyone learns that," Lucky smiled and entered the elevator to make his way toward the dining hall.

-------

Dos stared at the programming language in front of him. He'd gone over it at least ten times, if not more. And at first it hadn't made sense, but somehow, with the clues Haven had thrown out there and the way the kid didn't want to take credit and the fact he'd said he couldn't and somehow, it was the only way things made sense. It was improbable, but then ... it was possible.

"Holy heavens of gobstoppers," Dos whispered. "That's what he meant."

He stood, ran his hands nervously through his hair and then with a determined set to his chin, climbed down from the cockpit. He had to talk to Lucky. He wasn't sure anyone else would know what to do, but Lucky would. And it seemed as if the way to Lucky's room was miles. It was one of those times when he just had more than he could stand simply trying to hold in the excitement. He had to get Lucky alone.

Of course, it just goes to show you though, that the one time he needed Lucky, the man would not be there. And that would be, Dos looked at his watch, because it was dinner time. Dos swore under his breath as he hurried down to the dining hall in time to see Lucky sit down on the other side of Jux who was hanging on, as was customary by now, an impassive looking Alex.

"Hey guys," Dos managed an easy grin.

"Dos," Jux grinned as he scooted closer to Alex's side, reaching out and snagging the other gunner's roll.

Lucky nodded a greeting and Dos knelt just to the side of the pilot's chair. "I gotta talk to you."

"Okay," Lucky agreed.

"In private."

"I didn't know you swung that way, Dos!" Jux crowed.

"Can't you keep it to yourself just once, Jux," Dos growled uncharacteristically. That got Lucky intrigued.

"No, why? You wanna try and stop me or something?" Jux snapped. Standing, he moved toward Dos.

Lucky rose as well, a hand out to stop Jux. "Both of you. " Jux had been unusually on edge lately and Dos, well Dos looked like he was about to swallow his own tongue if he didn't get a chance to talk soon. Lucky gave Jux a slow shove and looked past the gunner at his NAV. The dark haired man remained sitting, ignoring them all. "Haven," he called lightly.

"Hmm?" Dark green eyes rose with a question in them.

"Take Jux to get some desert or something, will ya? I'm gonna go talk to Dos."

"Sure thing," Haven stood and gave Jux an absent nod. "Let's go." He didn't grab Jux's arm. It seemed to be enough however for Jux meekly followed the smaller gunner away from the table.

"Okay, what's up, Dos?" Lucky inquired, peering down at the abnormally sober face before him, after he'd moved with Dos to a back corner.

"I was going over the gunning program for Haven's flier," Dos didn't preface it with anything else, launching instantly into his finding while Lucky kept a close eye on Jux who seemed to have calmed himself enough to get himself a chocolate pudding and settle back down at the table. Haven was still looking through the desserts as if he wasn't sure if he'd ever get to have another again. It was just one more of those strange things that led to Lucky's thinking that Haven hadn't grown up like most kids. He was bent over, his hair falling around his face, all but breathing on each cup on the tray. It served to make Lucky's heart go out to the kid even more and wonder about how he could get the dark haired boy out from the middle of Hal's and Jux's relationship woes.

Finding himself unwittingly losing focus, he turned back to Dos and tried to concentrate on catching up to the topic at hand.

". so I went back over the tertiary string. It seemed odd. I mean, you have the flying component there like it should be so that it can make adjustments for the gunnery system. Then you have the gunnery system and that is amazing! It's hooked into minute body movements, almost like it can read your mind. Just incredible. And I was talking to Haven about it, and he said something weird about not caring if he got credit or not. Almost like he didn't expect it?"

"That's normal, for Haven anyway," Lucky replied, not surprised. The boy didn't seem to know to accept a compliment of his abilities, almost as if he didn't believe he deserved the praise.

"Well, I got to thinking while I was going over the third string. It isn't a regular program. It's almost like background noise, but when it is engaged, you can see how it would make these minor adjustments. I was trying to figure out where it got it's cues from but it isn't from sensors. It's direct input. Still, didn't seem to be an additional input device anywhere on the whole damn ship. So I was wondering, maybe an outer device that plugged in? Only see, this takes information from a remote linkup. So that would mean it could be something you carried around with you, in your pocket even."

Lucky stopped and looked more closely at Dos. The programmer shouldn't have looked as worried as he did. "You think this is a spy device for the CU's?"

"No, it's only short range. And all it's meant to do is readjust the gunnery system to a greater accuracy. No, I figured it out. I haven't seen anything like it because mostly it has never been used. It's too dangerous they say, to plug into a system that big; a system like you'd find in a WEPs system. But I know some guys have talked about getting it done, maybe in the next twenty years or maybe less? Some guys have even whispered about it being done in underground circles, making a chip that can handle the load and then buffer the synapses and so they j-"

"Woah, Dos," Lucky interrupted. "You're leaving me behind, buddy. What're you talking about, plugging into a system and people talking about what being done?"

Dos stopped, took a breath and nodded. Then in a low voice, "That's what I'm trying to say here. You see, the thing is about Alex. He's a -"

"WHAT THE HELL??" Hal's half scream broke through the entire dining hall, shattering what conversation had begun. Lucky spun in time to see Hal grab at Haven's shoulders and drag him back from the desert tray, throwing him across the room.

The boy staggered, tripped against a chair and then broke out from the tangle of his own legs as lithely as a cat landing on its feet, his face the dead calm of a killer. He didn't have a chance to move though before Hal had pulled his piece from his jumper and had it sighted on Alex's head. The reaction was instantaneous. Lucky could see the rush of fear and the quick shift to anger all before Haven's face became blank. Not calm. Just blank as the shuddering pilot unlocked the safety and slowly advanced, his own body tense with an obvious disgust and hatred.

"Shoulda known. I knew something was wrong about you. I could see it from the beginning. You gonna show them or you want me to tell them?" Hal was breathing heavily, his arm trembling but the gun remaining centered enough to be deadly.

Alex didn't speak, only stood with that frighteningly blank look on his face, frozen in place, staring at the gun and the man holding it. Lucky was reminded of a machine again, something calculating trajectories perhaps.

"Fine then," Hal turned out the words as if they left a bad taste to his mouth. "I'd love to be the one to burst that bubble you've been carrying around."

"Hal," Lucky broke in, shocked at the gun being pulled.

"Stay out of this, Hendricks," barked Hal.

"Unde! Haven!" The command came quickly from the doorway and Hal turned his head. Amazingly, Haven didn't move. Dog glared at the pair. "Put the gun up, Hal. I want to see you, Haven, and Hendricks in my office." Then as Hal was slow to move, he barked, "NOW!"

Dog spun out, expecting his word to be obeyed. Lucky watched Hal and didn't notice Dos chugging after his radio man.

Hal ground his teeth and replaced his piece. The dining hall was silent and everyone heard him as he sneered at Haven. "It's over, freak."

Alex Haven took a step, then two, and Lucky wondered at the way his calm seemed frayed at the edges but how it didn't affect the blank mask he had on his features.

"You knew you couldn't hide forever!" Hal spit out before he followed Dog out of the dining hall.

Lucky waited for Haven, watching as the young man slowly passed him, his green eyes watching the retreating back of Hal. Only Lucky heard the discouragement in the gunner's voice or the words as the boy sighed.

"Never expected to."