Title: Castaways

Author: BirdyJae ([email protected])

Website: http://birdyjae.livejournal.com

Rating: R

Pairing / Main characters: Cale/Korso

Series/Sequel: complete

Summary: Cale and Korso connect for a brief moment.

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.

Archive/Distribution:

Date: Jul 2001

_________________________________________________

 

Castaways

By BirdyJae

 

"Me too."

The words rang in Cale's head as he turned away from Korso. His hands still tingled from the elation of flying the Valkyrie, but that soaring feeling was slowly leeching away into the cold he knew so well. He could feel the same icy emptiness inside the captain, standing, arms tightly folded, at the bridge of his ship. Cale hesitated, standing on the threshold of the doorway. His forehead wrinkling in thought, he turned back.

"Korso?"

"What?" Korso responded gruffly, never removing his gaze from the stars outside.

"You... knew my father pretty well, right?"

"Yeah, kid. I told you, I worked with him."

"Tell me - what was he like?"

Korso turned, locking onto Cale's gaze. A faint gleam of surprise glittered in his arctic eyes, and his otherwise stolid face quirked into a grin.

"You knew your dad. What are you asking me for?"

Cale stared at the floor and ran a hand through his tousled blond hair. He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he turned away, not letting the captain see his scowl of disappointment. He began to walk towards the door, but was stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, wait a second here," Korso said, all amusement drained from his face, "what do you want to know?"

"Just... who he was to you. What you thought of him." Cale's face held, for a moment, the serious innocence of a child asking a vital question.

Korso sat down in the captain's chair, hands folded, and swiveled it around to meet Cale with his penetrating regard. The younger man smiled, but it was a hollow smile, Korso reflected, a mask which a castaway must wear to survive in a hostile universe. You had to smile, or you'd start crying.

Cale leaned against the railing, hands gripping the steel bars until the knuckles turned white with strain. He constantly looked as if he was on the verge of escaping, of propelling himself upwards. Even when he tried to relax, there was an odd tension in his lean, strong limbs. His grey-green stare met Korso's eyes, expectant.

"Your dad was a brilliant scientist. Very dedicated, and honest - with himself and everyone around him." A smile ghosted Korso's lips. "Never took any crap from anyone. And he was never afraid of the future."

"Afraid?" Cale's eyes narrowed.

"Oh, you're too young to remember, but even before the Drej came, Earth was in danger. Unlike some people, your father realized one day we'd have to leave it behind."

Cale's eyes widened slightly, stunned by this revelation. From what he'd heard - and remembered - of Earth, it was a paradise, with grassy fields and clean, sparkling streams. He bit his lip unconsciously.

"What do you mean?" he challenged.

Korso laughed, a hollow sort of laugh that belied a deeper sadness. "Kid, when I was born, Earth was a piece of crap. Pollution, overpopulation - we were using up the planet. Your dad's research helped fix some parts of it, like where you came from. That's why you remember it as clean and beautiful." Suddenly, Korso swiveled the chair away from Cale, half-looking at the nebula's corona of light outside the view window. "Where I came from... it wasn't clean and beautiful."

Shit, Cale thought to himself, and I thought people that grew up on Earth had it easy. Softly, he stepped forward, hands pressing to Korso's shoulders in an awkward show of camaraderie. Korso sighed, his body shifting, as if a load had slipped off him. Without thought, Cale's errant fingers stroked the older man's cheek gently. Immediately, Korso slapped his hand away.

"What the hell are you doing, kid?" he demanded harshly, bolting out of the chair.

Cale's hand still dangled in the space between them, a stunned look on his young, clean-shaven face. "I just thought..." he stammered, "you seemed sad, that's all." In an instant, he'd regained composure, eyes hardening to the texture of ice. Now that look, Korso recognized.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he said, smiling lamely, "I'm not that used to people bein' nice, that's all."

Cale looked up at him. "Me neither," he said, sadly.

Making a sudden decision, Korso put his gloved hand on Cale's shoulder. Cale stared at the hand as if it were a fascinating insect. The familiar cocksure grin returned to the captain's face.

"C'mon," he said, "I wanna show you something."

* * *

Korso's quarters were large and clean, even though scattered bits of machinery had accumulated in the corners. A bluishly glowing, glaucous aquarium provided the only light. It was plenty to see by, but bathed everything in an eerie glow. Korso grinned at Cale, one eyebrow raised rakishly.

"It's my fish. Rare Audrachian fin-mouths. They can't stand regular light, it blinds them."

Cale shrugged, smiling. "Doesn't bother me."

Korso left Cale to admire the oddly elegant, eel-like creatures as he rummaged through an ancient cardboard box. Finally, he produced a yellowed scrap of paper - paper! That was a rarity these days, and worth more than a pittance on the souvenir market. But any knee-jerk avaricious thoughts fled Cale's mind as he saw what was on that bit of paper.

It was a photograph, obviously taken by an antique camera. Two men, broad smiles on their chiseled faces, were standing in a sandy plain, arms slung around each other's shoulders. One was Korso, younger, beardless, but with the same glitter in his pale eyes. The other, older, more serious, with a small brown mustache, was Sam Tucker. Cale's father.

"My god..." Cale whispered. Reverently, he took it in his palm. He hadn't seen his father's face since the day... since the day...

"Nicholas, a friend of ours, bought an old camera at a flea market. We took pictures of each other that day, just for laughs. When Nick developed them, he gave me this one." Korso's finger brushed the edge of the photo, a fond smile of remembrance lighting up his face.

A faint, low-pitched sound came from Cale.

"Hey, kid," Korso said softly, looking up. Cale's face was as impassive as stone, but his eyes were wet with tears. He wasn't really looking at the photo anymore, just cradling it in his trembling hands. Korso raised a single finger to Cale's chin, forcing the younger man to meet his eyes. God, he was beautiful, he reflected. Shaking his head slightly, he dismissed the notion. Where the hell did
that come from, he thought.
Cale, however, had different plans. His facade cracking, he leaned in closer to the captain's face, until their lips almost brushed. He could feel Korso's warm breath tingling his mouth, traveling all the way down to his groin. His heart was hammering away.
At that moment, he didn't care about reasons. He rarely reasoned with himself. Cale always followed his instincts; it had kept him alive more than once. Right now, his instincts were screaming. He wanted this. Oh, yeah, he did. The photograph slipped from his fingers. One hand s

trayed to the captain's waist, resting there like an anchor. Nervously, like a seaman testing unknown waters, he
pressed his lips against Korso's open mouth.

Shit, Korso thought, and kissed Cale back. Oh shit, he's got me. Helplessly, his hand snaked around Cale's neck, pushing him deeper into the kiss. Cale drew back slightly, licking at Korso's lips with his soft, pink tongue. The silkily harsh mouth tasted faintly of the minty drink they had earlier shared. With tiny, salacious sips Cale ravaged Korso's mouth, breathing deep and slow, taking in
every faint scent: oil, leather, sweat, arousal.

Breathlessly, holding the younger man by the shoulder, Korso drew back a few inches, just enough to stare into Cale's moist, mysterious eyes.

"Where the hell..." he gasped softly, "did you learn... to do that?"

Cale just grinned, silencing the man with another kiss, then traced his lips across Korso's rough chin, traveling towards the pale neck where he seized a bit of skin between small, sharp teeth. Korso gasped, and pulled at Cale's hair until his own milky neck was exposed, outlined veins standing out in contrast against the skin. He bent his mouth towards them, wet lips leaving a ragged trail back to Cale's lips.

Growling softly, Korso steered Cale over to the bed. Lit by the aqueous light, the younger man seemed almost angelic. Disengaging from Cale's kiss, Korso backed away a half-step.

"Kid," he said softly, "this ain't right..."

Before he could continue Cale had him pinned beneath him on the cabin's floor. Smiling sweetly, the "kid" spoke in soft, measured tones, punctuating each word with a fluttery kiss. "My. Name. Is. Cale." he purred, and won the battle.

* * *

Cale was asleep, soft bare arm resting on Korso's chest. Korso marveled at how smooth Cale's skin was. His own skin was dusted with a pale coat of soft hairs, stirred by the slow, content exhalations of Cale's breath. All seemed right with the world. Korso, however, knew that was not the case.

A subdued beeping signaled a visitor. "What?" he spoke gruffly into the intercom on his nightstand. It was a time when everyone should be asleep. Korso knew exactly who it was.

With a faint creak, the door opened, and Preed slithered into Korso's room as if he lived there. His large, limpid eyes regarded the scene before him with no small measure of distaste.

"Come now, Joseph," he drawled, "the boy is attractive, but I'd think you'd choose to bed someone with a bit more grey matter."

Korso scowled. "Go away, Preed. You'll wake him."

Preed's ears twitched, and his lips drew back in a hideous sneer. "Such concern for the boy, Korso," he shook his head sadly, "you'd almost think you care."

Without a word, Korso slipped out from under Cale's arm and stepped into the nearest pair of pants. Ignoring Preed, he proceeded to tap out a sequence of numbers into a keypad opposite the aquarium. He didn't even notice the stealthy Akrennian come up behind him until he heard his silkily slimy voice in his ear.

"Remember, Korso," he warned, "we have a deal. We're getting rich."

He turned around, eye to eye with Preed, and let all expression drain from his face. He knew his icy silences unsettled his sneaky first mate, and this time the chill was nearly tangible.

"I won't have a problem doing my job, Preed. Will you?"

Preed raised both slim fingered hands in a mocking gesture of deference.

"Hey," he said, dripping with sarcasm, "you're the boss."

"Yeah," Korso growled maliciously, "remember that."

He turned away from Preed as he ambled towards the door with that unnerving liquid walk of his. "By the way," Preed said, smiling viciously, "I was observing our lovely pilot talking with your boy toy earlier. They seemed quite... cozy. A cute couple, if I don't say so myself." With a dreary laugh, Preed closed the door behind him. Korso's fists clenched involuntarily at his sides. Someday, he
vowed, he'd tell that slimy fish to find himself another free ride.

A sound from the bed derailed his train of thought. Cale stirred, smiled, and opened his eyes. The light from the aquarium had switched to its daylight colors, soft orangy-reds that made the green of Cale's eyes stand out stunningly. Korso swallowed a lump in his throat, and sighed.

"Mornin'," he grunted.

"Hi," Cale said brightly.

With one fluid motion, Cale rose from the bed. He casually kissed Korso's cheek and ambled into the bathroom like he'd lived here his whole life. Korso's eyebrows raised, and he smiled to himself. The kid had some nerve. He heard the splatter of water on tile as Cale turned on the shower, and turned back to his work.

Numbly, he stared at the collection of numbers in front of him. That's right, Joseph, he thought acidly, they're just numbers. Everything is so easy when you reduce it to its basic elements. So a coded message from the Drej becomes "numbers", casualties from a ship you blew up become "debris", and Cale... And Cale.

He buried his head in his hands and sighed deeply. If only Cale wasn't so much like his father. If only he didn't forcibly remind him of better times. A time when he was worth something.

Cale walked out of the bathroom, his hair dripping wet, a towel draped casually around his slim waist. Slinkily, he sidled up to Korso and nuzzled the older man softly. Korso growled deep in his throat and pulled Cale down onto his lap. Their lips met again in a sweet explosion. Cale's soft pale lips teasingly pulled away, then receded back into the kiss. Korso's hand snaked around his neck - and with brutal precision pressed upon the nerves that would render Cale unconscious. He held Cale close as his body slumped helplessly in his arms. An icy mask had replaced his earlier whirlwind of emotions. Gently, he carried Cale back to the bed and set him down. A long, sleepy sigh escaped Cale's lips, and his forehead wrinkled in dream-thought. At that moment, Korso hesitated. Was it really worth it, throwing away the only human warmth he'd felt in years for money?

But though his heart may protest, his mind was fiercely mercenary, and he forced himself to turn away. Hands balled into fists, he walked out the door, to find Preed leaning against the wall, arm crossed, smirking jocosely.

"So..." he drawled, "our captain made the right decision."

Not even meeting the Akrennian's eyes, Korso snarled and gave his command in a soft, tight voice. "Deal with it, Preed. In a civilized way." He added the last part in an almost pleading tone.

"I'm far ahead of you," Preed said, and extracted a small syringe from his pocket. Korso winced involuntarily, but forced himself to walk on. He had work to do.

Preed wound his way into Korso's quarters, and crouched before Cale's sleeping form. He raised the syringe. "Relax," he crooned, mantralike, "it's just a little pinprick. You won't remember a thing." Baring his dirty teeth in a grin, he drove the syringe home. Cale whimpered. The amnesiac drug was taking effect.

Hoisting his young captive on his powerful shoulders, Preed carried him back to Cale's quarters and set him down. Good, he thought to himself, the captain has a weakness. If he has to deal with the kid, he'll hesitate. And I can use that.

As Preed left, Cale stirred in his sleep. A horrible nightmare wracked him, leaving him with an odd emptiness in his chest, as if he'd been hit in the heart.

 

END