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Garin took the duffel and unzipped it to reveal his very own street clothes. “Oh, thank god.” He gave them a grateful smile through his undiminished blush. “Thank you.”
Bar’in waved a hand as he twirled around to grab a box from the pile at the bottom of the ramp. “It was my idea.”
Fal’ran nodded. “It was.”
“Thank you, Bar’in!” Garin called to the slim klah’eel’s retreating back.
“You’re welcome, loose ass.”
Sazahk flicked a tentacle out from the edge of the gangway and whacked Bar’in’s side, while Garin retreated to the bedroom. He fished his tablet out of his pants pocket. It was tight, but he had time for a shower and an urgent need for one.
Bar’in’s nickname had hit a little too close to home. Oil that had felt a lot better going in, leaked out of his hole.
He stripped and turned on the water, stepping into the hot spray with a sigh. He wet his hair and scrubbed himself down, taking particular care below his waist, and helped himself to the creams and toiletries already arranged in the shower. When he reached up to suds his hair, a sudden ticklish jab under his left rib made him yelp and jump back. The waiting loop of a thick metal tentacle caught him, and Garin squirmed around and gaped at the thin tendril that had jabbed him and now waved at him mischievously.
Garin laughed. That damn man. And while he was out there with his teammates, too.
“You’re ridiculous.” He pushed the tentacle away and kept washing his hair, but the tentacle stayed, fondling and petting him like a carefree lover. He’d have to do this with the actual Sazahk when they got a chance.
Garin finished his shower and stepped out of the stall, feeling more grounded. Unfortunately, that wasn’t a good thing. His dour reality, the coming end to his time with Sazahk, settled around him. Only Sazahk’s playful prodding kept his mood up. It was hard to be sad with the aura of Sazahk’s bubbly optimism right there next to him.
“There is no way this fits.” Bar’in’s voice echoed down the hallway as Garin left the bedroom. “Yeah, I know that’s what his list says, but it doesn’t fucking fit.”
Garin returned to the entryway to find Bar’in on the ground next to Sazahk’s bag, surrounded by supplies, with Tar peering over his shoulder.
Bar’in threw the extra pack of underwear at Garin when he appeared. “Did you think his bag was twice as big?”
“No, I thought you’d pack it differently.” Garin kneeled beside them and pulled out everything Bar’in had stuffed into the bag.
“Take a pass at mine when you’re done, would you?” Fal’ran dropped his giant pack next to Garin. He’d managed to get all the supplies in, but, judging by the bulging seams, by brute force alone.
“I’ll have to give you lessons, since I won’t always be around to do it for you.” Garin swallowed. Or do it himself like he should. Sazahk going into the Dead Zone without him put a pit in his stomach. He trusted Fal’ran, but that wasn’t the damn point.
“You don’t have time.” Sazahk came out of his lab, his hair braided neatly again. Probably Bar’in’s doing.
Garin shook his head. “I have time.” If he went fast, he’d have time. “Fal’ran, Bar’in, watch me.”
Garin emptied their packs. His hands flying over buckles and straps, he rearranged and rolled and tucked and slid things into place. “Heavier things at the bottom. Lighter things at the top. Be mindful of lengths and of the things that you’ll need more often than others. Some things you’ll only unpack when you’re in camp. Some things you’ll want at a moment’s notice.”
Bar’in and Fal’ran watched him with their full, uninterrupted attention. Sazahk would be fine. They had him. He’d be fine. But Garin’s stomach still soured and curdled and clenched.
“There. Done.” Garin closed the final zipper on Fal’ran’s pack. “Got it?”
Bar’in eyed him. “Hell no.”
But Fal’ran nodded. “Yeah, I got it.”
“And then, Sazahk, I was thinking about your food supply.” Garin stood and headed to the lab, but Sazahk met him at the doorway. “If you?—”
Sazahk pressed a finger to his lips. “You don’t have time, Garin.”
Garin’s anxious energy fell out of him.
“Your family’s transport leaves in an hour and yours right after.” Sazahk dropped the finger and gave him a sad smile. “And our own departure window is imminent. You have to go.”
Garin bit his lip. “Just—I just…” He swallowed and reached for Sazahk, but Sazahk caught his hand and pressed it into Garin’s chest. Shit. Shit shit shit, that was it, wasn’t it? He stepped back, his feet as heavy as when his boot camp sergeant had loaded them with lead weights. “I’ll message you with my idea about your rations.”
Sazahk nodded, brown and pink swirling across his face. “Do that.”
