The Lily-White Boys

There wasn't any way to stop now. I was thrusting into him, trying hard not to hurt him, sweating, feeling him heave every breath out of his body, seeing his face transformed in the mirror. I saw myself, or maybe it was him, with my mouth open, gulping in air, throwing my head around so that my hair flew back and forth, spraying sweat in every direction.

I was about to come. I felt it moving up behind me, about to embrace me and take me away. I held onto Nick and felt him quivering, his cock rock hard and jerking in my hand. I couldn't tell which face was mine. We climaxed together, his cum shooting out all over the place, mine captured in him. I thought I was going to die. It was wonderful. I shot into him over and over, yelling in his ear, my knees trembling, the trembling spreading over my whole body. He hit his head on the mirror.

I eased out of him and he turned around to hug me, and we leaned against the counter and just held each other. He seemed kind of weak and limp, but I was feeling like I could do loops around Jupiter. I had to hold him up. He slipped down to the floor in a while and I went with him, cradling him, and was really surprised to find he was crying.

"Shit, Nick, I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No. No." He put his head in my lap.

"Good. Because that was great. You are one fine fuck, if I do say so myself." I could feel him shaking, and I wasn't sure if it was with laughter or not. "Let's take a shower." I got up and turned it on, and Nick sat up on the rug and wiped his hand over his face. I stepped into the shower, and he got in too after a minute.

We washed each other's back and rinsed off all the sweat, used up all the towels and left them on the floor, and went into the bedroom and got into bed. I was still feeling charged up and didn't want to sleep, because it was still early, really, but it was comfortable cuddling up with him. He was kind of quiet, and I talked a blue streak, telling him my goddamn life story.

He listened, but he didn't have much to say. Except when I told him about the accident.

"You falsified a report?"

"Yeah. You ought to know that, if you read the news."

"It's different hearing it from you. I didn't think of you as a real guy. You were somebody on the news. I didn't notice that you looked like me. I...um, I thought you were just some admiral's brat who got into Starfleet by doing nothing, and then blew it--"

"What makes you think that was wrong? I coasted in the Academy. I took all the courses, yeah, but I only paid attention when I really had to. I wanted to be a pilot. That was all I cared about. I was in Nova Squadron and that was the whole reason for sticking out the four years. My senior year was the greatest--"

"Shut up." Nick looked sick again. "I don't want to hear about your motherfucking senior year." He rolled over and sat up.

"What's biting your ass? That you're a senior? Don't tell me, you're in Nova Squadron too and you're afraid of ghosts. I'll tell you about ghosts--"

"SHUT UP!" Nick screamed at me. "You're an ASSHOLE. You killed three officers and lied about it and then didn't have the guts to stick to your story. You fucking wimp. You're worse than Crusher. Nobody had to put the screws to you. You just caved. You motherfucking asshole."

"What the fuck do you know about it? Careful who you call an asshole. What the hell did you want to screw me for if that's what you thought of me, you little prick? You knew who I was."

"I didn't know you were me. I didn't know you were me three times worse. I hate what you did, and that's what made me realize what I did was the same thing. I'm never gonna forgive you for that."

"What the fuck are you talking about? What you did? What the hell did you do? I don't give a shit." I got up and started sorting out my clothes from the pile on the floor. Nick sat there staring at the wall.

When I was dressed, I looked for the key to the room and threw it to him. "Here. I don't need this. It's paid for the night, so stay if you want to. Or leave. I don't care. You might think about going back to the dormitory, kid. I'm outta here. See you in the next life."

I slammed the door and headed down the hall to the elevator. I was holding my jaw tight and my lips pulled in, even tighter, and I knew where I was going.

I didn't see any cabs on the street, since this neighborhood was mostly apartments and houses, so I walked west, out towards the Gate. The fog was sitting right down on the ground and I couldn't see more than a block ahead. I didn't look back.

The street lights would show as big glows up ahead, dim, and then get brighter and smaller as I approached, and resolve into street lights, and pass over my head and vanish in the fog again.

I was heading straight towards the Academy, and Headquarters. They were built on the site of a place called the Presidio, an ancient military base that was there for hundreds of years, right at the Gate. I cut down towards the water. You can walk straight along there at the northern end of the city until you get to the bluff where the bridge anchors.

I walked pretty fast. It was only three or four kilometers to get where I was going. I wasn't afraid of anything like criminals, not on Earth, and I didn't give a shit anyway. I didn't see anyone. It was not really a night for strolling.

I went down to the beach and filled my pockets with sand. I got to the bluff, and the walls of Fort Point loomed up out of the fog. It looks like a prison, all built of brick and hundreds of years old, at least the original was. It fell down in an earthquake and was replaced. It had guns trained on the Gate.

I backtracked a little and climbed the path up the bluff to the road at the top, and went out to the viewpoint just before the bridge, by the huge concrete cable anchor. There was nothing to see. A few vehicles were passing by in both directions. Most people use the transit system these days.

I set out again and passed the anchor and the statue of the guy who designed the bridge, and walked out along the east side, heading for the first tower. The suspension cables rose up along the walkway, the huge swoop of the main cable pulling them up with it, spaced regularly like prison bars.

When the main cable rose high enough on its way to the top of the tower, I couldn't see it any more. I passed the bars one by one, feeling the sway of the bridge in the wind. I couldn't see the tower ahead of me, though I knew it was there, and when I looked back, I couldn't see the land. I kept going.

I passed the first tower and stopped to rest. Down there, where I couldn't see it, was the water. The tides are pretty strong through the Gate, and boats get swept out to sea on the ebb. The foghorns were blowing. They don't really need them any more, since everyone has guidance systems and GPS on boats now, but they do it for old time's sake. They use recordings of the real thing.

I thought I should start looking for gaps in the force field. I threw sand over the railing and watched the fizz and sparkle to gauge where the generators were. Eight kilometers of force field, both sides of a bridge, is a lot to keep running, especially when the reason for it is so old-fashioned.

I'm an old-fashioned guy, in a lot of ways. I like old cars, and down-home talk, and some people call my sex life something out of the Dark Ages, but I like it that way. I walked along slowly, tossing pinches of sand as I went. One generator near the middle of the bridge was burned out. The sand flew out into space, and I heaved myself up on the rail and straddled it. I sat there a long time. I had all night.

There were three voices calling me down to the water. The last time I had really heard them, they had been screaming, first in fear, then in agony. Dreyfus was beside me in the copilot's seat, though she wasn't taking the controls like I said she was. Homma and Jacobsen were behind us in the passenger seats. I got a big splash of Dreyfus' blood across my face, and a lot of it in my mouth because I was screaming too. I could see Dreyfus' face as she hung there in the straps. Her blood went cold on my lips.

We stayed that way for five hours before the rescue teams cut through the hull, and I was conscious the whole time though I prayed to pass out. If I hadn't been off course, they might have found us sooner while one or two of them were still alive. If I hadn't been off course, we might not have crashed in the first place. If I hadn't been off course, I wouldn't be here.

I was never going to fly again, except on the way down through the fog, for a few seconds. I wouldn't see the water until it hit me. I would be flying. I put both legs over the rail and looked out into nothingness. The wind was pushing at my back.

I don't know how long Nick had been standing there before I noticed him. He didn't register as another person, really, but as something connected to me, like my shadow. He had on his long dark coat and was breathing hard, but slowly, as if each breath was difficult and he couldn't spend too much effort on it. He looked as if he had walked the whole way, tracing my steps, stalking me like a ghost, a few minutes behind me.

His coat blew out around his legs, and he seemed unsteady in the wind. When he saw my head turn towards him, he walked up to the railing and put one hand on it, sort of tentative, like he needed my permission to touch it. He looked at me, and I turned away.

I could see about twenty meters out in front of me, and down, a sphere of visibility centered on the two of us and the lamp over our heads. The fog blew through the illuminated area, the patterns changing, the wisps forming and dispersing, never solid, never entirely gone. It blew past me and vanished, and more came to replace it from the ocean, behind me as I looked towards the invisible land.

Nick reached into his coat and pulled out a bottle and held it out to me. I stuck my hand out automatically and took it. It was warm from his body. He pulled out another one, and waited for me to crack mine before he cracked his. We drank warm beer together. When we were finished, we threw the bottles over the railing and watched them vanish. The water was too far down to hear them splash. The foghorns were blowing.

"Messing up the bay," I said.

"Nice clean bay," said Nick.

"Hundreds of years ago, it was so polluted you couldn't eat the fish," I said. "It was pretty bad."

"Everything's clean now," said Nick. "You have to go pretty far to find anything bad." He put both hands on the railing and hoisted himself up, with some trouble, because he looked sort of weak. I reached out to steady him, and he sat beside me. I let go of him. We didn't say anything for a while, and then I noticed he was shivering. I put my arm around his shoulders.

"The whole planet's lily-white," I said. "I stick out like a turd in a pitcher of milk." That was another one of my grand-uncle's expressions. "Everything's new and synthetic and doesn't rust. Even the things that are supposed to be old. Nothing's dangerous any more. No one makes mistakes."

"I made a mistake," said Nick. He turned his head and looked south along the bridge, in the direction of the Academy. I didn't ask what he meant. He stared off in that direction for a while. I kept my arm around him and held him closer. He leaned into me, pulling his coat around him.

"I killed someone," Nick said. "I told him to do something he wasn't capable of doing. I thought I could do anything, and take anyone along with me, I was so good. He died. I blamed it on him for being a wimp. But it was my fault. I was the pilot in charge, and I lost my sense of direction. I got off course."

I thought I was hearing my own voice speaking to me. He was speaking inside my head at the same time I saw his lips move. "They do make allowances for mistakes. But I made it in the first place, and then I lied about it. I made three other people lie about it too. They found out I lied. I deserved what I got," he said. "I only realized that because you deserved what you got, and you did the same thing I did."

"Three times over," I said.

"I never made allowances for myself. I had to be the best pilot. I couldn't make a mistake. If something went wrong, it had to be someone else's fault. And that person was dead, and couldn't defend himself."

"Herself," I said.

"If I had made allowances for myself, if I had thought I was capable of making a mistake, I would be in Starfleet now. I thought they demanded perfection, but they don't. They do demand honesty. An officer's first duty is to the truth."

I said, "Lies drag you down."

"They drag you down. I know why you have to let go of lies now. I went to the bottom with mine around my neck. I reached too far, and I lied when I fell short, and I'm not in Starfleet, which is all I ever wanted. I wanted to be a Starfleet pilot. I never was one. I never even tasted it, what I wanted my entire life."

"Well, you've tasted a Starfleet pilot now," I said, and gave him a funny smile, and Nick laughed, silently, shaking against me. I felt a surge of energy again, and held him up to keep him from falling, and kissed him.

It was different now. I pressed my lips to his and thought he was breathing something into me, and I wanted to give it back to him, but he couldn't hold it any more, I think. He gave me something to hold for him, and I took it to keep.

I thought he was going to slip away from me, out of my grip, and the railing seemed really narrow all of a sudden. I leaned back, but I couldn't throw my leg back over and hold on to Nick at the same time.

He started pushing away from me to let me move, but he was limp and sagged towards the water. I panicked. I didn't want him to fall. I didn't want to fall. "Nick, for the love of Christ, hold on to me--"

He was trying to make me let go. I grabbed him and flung myself backwards with him, and we fell on the bridge walk. I bruised my elbow, pretty badly. He landed hard on his shoulder and grunted.

"Nick, I think we've thrown enough shit in the bay for one night," I said. He lay there, not moving, though I could see him breathing. I wondered if he was out cold. I peered into his face, but his eyes were open. I couldn't figure out what was the matter with him. He was like a rag doll. I thought he had drunk more than he could handle.

Sitting on the damp walk, I rolled him over and pulled him on my lap, held his head up and looked at his eyes. The pupils were so dilated they looked black. Just a little rim of blue around the void. I don't think he was seeing much.

"Nick?"

"Tom," he whispered to me. "Where are you going to go?"

I had no idea. I hadn't thought ahead any farther than to the bridge. I had liked the idea of having no more life to worry about, and I had been celebrating that. All of a sudden I had a life to worry about. Maybe that's what he gave me.

"I don't belong here," I said.

"Can I come with you?"

"Sure."

"Thanks."

"I'm going to leave Earth. We can both leave Earth. We'll go where we match the background. We can leave the goddamn Federation if we want to. We can find someone who needs some flying done and doesn't care who we are. We can get drunk in really bad bars and have a good time anyway because we're together. I bet there are some real hellholes around the Cardassian border. Let's go get drunk there."

"Sounds good," said Nick. "I'll come with you, if you don't mind."

"I don't think I'm ever going to get rid of you now."

"Thanks, Tom. I'll be in good hands." He grinned, but his eyes were closing."Shit, I'm tired." His head fell back in my lap and his throat was exposed, covered in blond stubble.

"Go to sleep for a while," I said. I leaned over and kissed him, and stroked his cheek. I felt the stubble, sharp, and the skin, white and warm, translucent. "I'll hold you."

"OK," said Nick, and closed his eyes. I watched his face. His head seemed weightless on my lap. I must have fallen asleep. I thought I felt him getting lighter and lighter, and I could almost see through him. I guess I was dreaming. He was just as real as I was, but he faded in my arms like fog when the sun rises. I didn't feel like he was going away. I thought he was staying with me. I thought he would be with me for the rest of my life.

When I woke up, there was a shadow in front of me. The sun was behind me, just rising over the East Bay hills. The fog was gone, and I could see out through the Gate and to the ocean. My shadow stretched out across the roadbed. There wasn't anyone with me. One all alone. I wasn't drunk anymore, but I had the worst fucking hangover of my life. That's what makes me think I had drunk more than I realized. I puked over the bridge rail.

I walked all the way back along the bridge before I saw anyone. I wanted to tell them they had a burned-out generator, but it was too early for the office to be open. I dumped the sand out of my pockets. I got on the transit system to save my credits, and went back to the hotel where I had my luggage. There weren't any reporters there.

I thought about calling information, but I didn't think there would be any number for someone named Nick Locarno. You can't have two separate people that look that much alike, and have that many things in common. Not in one universe. That doesn't happen. I figured I had better stay away from that brand of tequila. I still like Anchor Steam, but I can't get it any more. A month after that, I was in the Maquis, and then in prison. And I'm a Starfleet pilot again, though I never expected that. Not in this lifetime.

"This one's for you," I say to myself sometimes, when I pull a really good move at the helm. Chakotay looks at me funny, but he always does. Screw him anyway. I hope he appreciates his luck. Not everyone gets a second chance. Sometimes things work out in ways you never thought they would. If you go down, you'll never find out what might have happened.

And if I ever see real beer again, I'll drink too much, just on my own account. I'm drinking for two. Maybe one and a half.