Chapter Text
Day 507 – Hoshina Maru’s Crew Log
Status
Alive: 10
Nanami does not dream much.
Every night after he closes his eyes and they start dancing in rapid movement behind his eyelids as he falls endlessly into the abyss, all he can remember seeing in his sleep since he was a child is darkness— like some sort of aphantasia playing a cruel prank on him.
It is nothingness, just an endless absence of light as he floats aimlessly in it.
He does not remember feeling cold, or warm, or anything, really; does not remember hearing anything; does not remember smelling anything; and most certainly does not remember seeing anything.
And for the longest time, things were okay, the glooming darkness was normal as normalcy can be for him.
This time it is not normal.
It starts the same as every night— in the calmness of his sleep when he starts to slip away as if he was a lifeless body on the boat floating and finding the way to Valhalla in Viking belief. Nanami recognises the darkness, one who revisits every night and stays with him until it is time to wake up like a faithful old friend, then peacefully and gently he has been engulfed by the said friend. Then just when he is falling deeper into the known abyss, like some sick and twisted version of God on the First Day declaring ‘let there be light’ in the soundless vacuumed space— his eyes are suddenly assaulted by the unexpecting presence of light, so big and blue and beautiful it almost blinds him and—
“Good morning, Kento!”
Startled by the familiar voice and the dream itself, Nanami almost jumps through the ceiling and sits up in his bed immediately, groaning and vexing about the sudden appearance of the said voice whilst the person continues speaking, so unbothered by his reaction like he has been programmed to pay a little to no mind on his grogginess after having been rudely interrupted, in this case, during sleeping.
“Well, it is technically never morning, noon, or evening given our circumstances but it surely is five in the evening somewhere on earth,” the man chuckles to himself, and in the darkness of his living quarter saved by the light coming through the seam of the door Nanami can see him shrug and hop like a bunny to sit on the top of the desk in his living quarter with feet dangling, “thought I am sure you already know what I meant.”
Nanami rubs his face, glaring as he snaps his fingers to turn on the light and reaches for his glasses on the nightstand, then checking his watch, “is there any particular reason I have a pleasure of hosting you here in the middle of the figurative night, Yu?”
Haibara giggles when seeing his air-quote for the word ‘figurative’ before doing just the same as if he is a toddler mimicking an older kid. Well, close enough.
“Oh yeah!” their ship’s engineer mech nods enthusiastically, still swinging his feet, unbothered, “Yaga-sensei told me to come get you.”
“Now?” Asking, Nanami raises his brows whilst getting up and quickly doing his bed. The light that has been adjusting gradually to not destroy the crew’s eyesight is fully on now in his quarter.
Haibara jumps off the desk, his boots hitting the carpeted floor with a soft thudding sound, “uh-huh,” there comes the response as the man walks towards the door.
Nanami grabs his jacket from the rack then puts on his boots, but before he can ask the following question, Haibara already answers it.
“We just got the distress call.”
By the time Nanami and Haibara arrive at the bridge, their captain is already there in that seat.
“Nanami-kun,” circles under his eyes growing bigger, Yaga nods at him, sipping black coffee in his favourite mug, “sorry for waking you up in the middle of the night.”
Their engineer mech opens his mouth like he is about to protest before sucking air in his mouth like a squirrel with peanuts and remaining silent as Yaga raises his finger up and nods. The only sounds in the bridge are the soft humming and beeping of their vessel working and the sound of his and Haibara’s shoes echoing on the floor.
“Sir,” Nanami nods as a response, standing at attention.
Yaga waves his hand— the sign that the crew has learnt means ‘at ease’— before nodding in the direction of his seat, “told you to just call me sensei like back in the old days,” amused and sarcastic, their captain mumbles, shaking his head, “or maybe call me ‘captain,’ make me feel like a pirate. Calling me sir makes me feel old.”
Haibara just winks at him before sitting in his own seat, shifting a bit then facing his screen.
“I suppose Haibara-kun briefed you already?”
Their captain asks and Nanami answers with another nod and the ‘yes, sensei’ before continuing, “where is the call coming from?”
Yaga turns the monitor in his direction, answering, “our government lab on the ISS.”
“Sir?”
Before he could stop himself from saying that word again, Nanami’s brows furrow as he lets out an automatic response, his tone raised and questioning.
Their captain shrugs, “weird, I know,” then the man takes another sip of his coffee before placing the mug on the free space on his control dashboard, scratching his beard— the thing he always does when he is calculating in his head, “it reached us thirty-two minutes ago when we’re flying into the ISS orbit, could’ve been ringing for some time now, just wonder why they couldn’t find anyone on the station who can fix whatever needs to be fixed and decided to call us.”
The mech tilts his head like a dog hearing an unfamiliar sound, connecting to the call log.
“It is not specifically for us, sensei,” Haibara adds, tapping the screen to show the time stamp on the bigger screen for him and their captain to see, “they sent it to the open channel, practically for any ship nearby, sounded very desperate by the look of it.”
Nanami straightens his back, clearing his throat, “did they say what this is about?”
Haibara frowns, shrugging before showing the distress call log, “the voice audio was not uploaded properly and corrupted, the log just read ‘lab containment failure’ with a biiiiiiiiig ‘top priority’ label slapped on it.”
That enunciation of the word ‘big’ in that happy-go-lucky nature that is Haibara’s makes their captain quirk an eyebrow. Nanami glares at his friend before shaking his head and mouthing ‘not now.’
The mech bows quickly, repeatedly, that his dark brown hair sways from the pull of gravity in their vessel, “apologies, sensei!” Haibara shoots up, his face apologetic and one hand on the back of his head, still bowing repeatedly before finally stopping when their captain raises his head from the dashboard with an amused look, “I fear I have been procrastinating on learning about comedic timing but I simply do not have the time.”
Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose— but Yaga lets out a loud snort.
“Now that’s very funny, Haibara-kun,” their captain slaps his knee whilst Nanami shakes his head behind him, “back to the topic, people need to learn courtesy of not putting the ‘top priority’ tag everytime they want someone to answer quickly. It’s probably nothing like ninety-nine percent of the time.”
The man gets up from his chair, grabbing his coffee mug and taking the last sip then stretching, the sound of his joints cracking echoing in their quiet bridge.
“I’ll go see what our friends need,” Yaga starts, “can I trust you two to keep this beauty in one piece when I’m back?” his hand taps the control dashboard of their ship playfully.
Despite his jolly tone, Nanami knows the worried look on Yaga’s face. Unclenching his jaw, he calculates the possible outcomes in his head before finally speaking up, “objection, captain.”
“By all means, chief mate,” Yaga signals him with his hand.
Nanami licks his lips, quietly proposing, “send me and Officer Inumaki instead, we can have a look and help them out,” then looking at his friend who nods as a silent yes , “and Haibara too, in case they need an engineer for the lab and he can also be an extra security for us.”
Their captain shakes his head with a low chuckle, “objection, sir, that’s too many of you.”
“It’s too risky, we don’t really have a clue what’s happened or still is happening,” Nanami raises his reasoning, “you’re too valuable, sensei.”
“And so are the rest of you,” Yaga points at him and Haibara, his tone becoming more serious— the tone Nanami knows their captain always uses to get his point across, “you’re the ones keeping this ship running, I’m just an old man in the chair.”
The smile is still on Yaga’s face, and the silence stretches on a bridge too long.
Nanami knows there is no point in convincing him.
“Sir,” he clears his throat, schooling his face to neutral and nodding before getting up from his chair. Haibara follows closely behind him and as Yaga already starts answering to the said distress call, Nanami continues, “we will have Officer Kugisaki setting up the comms for you then.”
Less than an hour later, their ship’s hull groans as it latches onto one of the docking rings of the said international space station, metal screeching against metal before the locks seals with a thunderous clunk. Lights along the corridor flicker from red to green, signalling successful connection.
Although Nanami is still not entirely convince it is a good idea to send Yaga alone with no back-up, their captain is now getting dressed up for the trip down the ISS.
The unease never ceases in his stomach.
Inside the bridge, Kugisaki’s keyboard makes some noises— click-clack-click-clack— as the silence presses down thicker than the recycled air. The four of them press their headphones closer as if it would make them hear better. And that shows that something is not working the way it is supposed to since their console should have chimed with clearance codes from the station’s control centre even before they docked.
Instead— nothing.
Just the faint crackle of static.
Their captain leans over in his chair, tapping on the comms panel on his own dashboard, thumb drumming against the edge as he toggles through frequencies, “station control, this is Yaga Masamichi, captain of the Hoshina Maru vessel. Requesting clearance to board after receiving the distress call from our Japanese government’s lab on the ISS. Do you copy?”
All of them look at Kugisaki and the redhead shakes her head as a response, fingers scanning the different frequencies in between as her mouth reads, “only static.”
Yaga mutes his microphone and Kugisaki follows. Nanami’s voice cuts through the hum of machinery, “it’s too quiet,” he remains calm but edged with unease as he raises the question, “no response at all? Not even in the comms channel?”
Their comms officer shakes her head again, “no, sir.”
Their captain does not look at them and simply flicks another switch, sighing, “happens,” he says whilst getting up, “they’re under distress, remember? The whole reason we’re here.”
From the back of the cabin, Kugisaki pipes up, her fingers still fidgeting and refreshing the communication channel, “could be pre-clearance. We did answer their distress beacon. Maybe they opened the bay for us automatically.”
They all stare at the control light— and the only thing it does is blinking back.
Still silent.
The docking clamps are now fully engaged and every blinking light goes to green— theoretically safe.
Theoretically.
Nanami’s gaze lingers on the display, frown carved deeper no matter how hard he is trying to mask his own concern, “it’s odd,” he comments, quieter now, “if control’s operational, there should be at least a ping back. Even under distress, protocol dictates—”
“Protocol, protocol,” their captain— his own mentor— chuckles, finally lifting his head with a crooked grin, “this is why I keep you on the ship, Nanami-kun, god knows these kids love not following the protocol.”
Yaga winks at their mech who lets out an ‘oh’ noise of realisation in the manner that can only be done by a golden retriever who reaches the enlightenment or Haibara who is now blinking slowly like he is storing a new joke and gesture in the cloud before stepping back from the console, broad shoulders rolling as if to shrug the weight of silence away.
Not long after, Yaga, Haibara and him stand in the release chamber as the rest of the crews finally start their day and join Kugisaki in the cockpit. Nanami looks at their captain who triple-checks everything with his helmet hanging from one arm, ready.
Still, their captain places one hand on his shoulder and Nanami looks up, lips pursing into a line, “I know you’ll keep everyone safe, like always.”
Nanami opens his mouth— to argue, perhaps, or to insist that something does not feel right— but Yaga already puts on his helmet and claps his hand against the hatch release before he could.
“Trust me, if anything’s off, you’ll be the first to know, Nanami-kun,” Yaga says, his voice now coming from the comms device whilst doing the salute with a smirk as the airlock begins to cycle open, “see you in a bit, captain.”
The hiss of decompressing seals swallows his words and the hatch irises open to the steel-grey corridor of the station, lights flickering at the edges. Yaga looks back at them one more time with a smile before Nanami nods at him whilst Haibara waves happily and the man starts to take off.
And that is the last time Nanami ever spoke with his captain.