Chapter 28 - Desperate Measures

"Maybe a little sparring will kickstart it?" Danny asked.

"You want us to beat each other up?" Emily asked, sounding skeptical. "Seriously?"

"It's just a thought," Danny mumbled, shrugging. "We're stuck, aren't we?"

Joey raised an eyebrow. "I've got space in the infirmary, we've barely used it."

Luca's gut clenched. This was escalating quickly. Part of him wanted to shut it down, to tell everyone to calm down. But another part of him, the frustrated, wound-up part, was starting to see the twisted logic in it. They were fighters, after all, and maybe that was the key, or maybe they were all just losing it.

"So who's fighting who?" Chris asked, his voice flat, but his eyes said something else entirely.

All eyes turned to Luca. Right, he was the captain, which made this decision time whether he liked it or not. Zoe had her arms crossed, waiting. Ryan was practically bouncing, which was never a good sign. Emily looked like she wanted to veto the whole thing, and Danny, well, it was his idea, so he got to look hopeful.

If this went sideways, it was on him, which was great and exactly what he wanted.

"Fine," Luca said, the word out before his brain caught up. "Let's go to the gym. But nothing serious. We're just testing this, got it?"

---

The gym smelled like ozone and old sweat, which tracked, because nothing about this plan was clean. Sparring mats covered half the floor. Weights lined the far wall. This was a bad idea.

"So, who's up first?" Ryan asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet like he was ready to jump into a ring. He was practically vibrating with pent-up energy.

Everyone looked at Luca again, because apparently captain also meant designated idiot for bad ideas. "I'll do it," he said, stepping forward before anyone else could volunteer, or worse, volunteer him. "Ryan, you're up."

Ryan grinned, cracking his knuckles. "You got it, Captain."

"Just remember," Luca said, trying to inject some authority into his voice. "We're testing a theory. No killing each other."

Zoe snorted. "Where's the fun in that?" she teased.

Ryan and Luca faced each other in the center of the mat. Ryan bounced on his feet like he'd been waiting for permission to hit somebody all week.

"Ready?" Ryan asked, raising his fists.

Luca mirrored his stance, blood thumping in his ears. His brain offered one last helpful observation: they were about to beat each other up on the off chance it would trigger a combat skill unlock. Cool. Totally reasonable.

They circled each other. Ryan already had sweat beading on his forehead, and the focus in his eyes made Luca's stomach tighten. This was his friend. They were about to hit each other. For science, or whatever Danny was calling it.

Ryan threw the first punch, a left hook so soft it was almost insulting. Luca blocked it, tapped a right jab into his shoulder. They went back and forth like that, trading love taps, two guys pretending they weren't about to escalate.

"Come on, Luca," Emily called from the sidelines. "Is that all you've got?" She sounded teasing, but her arms were crossed tight against her chest.

Luca feinted left, then threw a right hook into Ryan's ribs. Ryan grunted but took it. And yeah, his abs were tighter than Luca expected. Like hitting a wall of muscle. Where the hell had that come from? Somewhere in the back of his mind, a very unhelpful voice pointed out that he'd never actually seen Ryan without a shirt. Luca told that voice to shut up and focus.

They traded a few more rounds of the same. Feints, blocks, light punches. Luca caught him across the head with something that was more bitch-slap than cross. They were both holding back, and they both knew it, and every exchange landed a little harder anyway.

"Still no XP," Ryan said, breathing hard. He ducked under Luca's jab and buried a fist in his gut. Luca folded, more from surprise than pain.

"How are you even checking that right now?" Luca wheezed, circling him.

Ryan grinned. "Multitasking." Then he lunged, fists everywhere at once. Luca blocked most of them, but one caught his jaw and his whole skull rang like a bell, and that one hurt a lot.

"Take it seriously, you two!" Danny called out. "The system might not recognize it if you're just playing around."

Danny wanted serious? Luca was getting his ass kicked. How much more serious did it need to be?

"Oh, we're taking it seriously," Ryan said, his voice low now. He feinted left, right, then drove another fist into Luca's ribs. Luca stumbled back, gasping. The bastard was having fun.

"Come on, hit him back!" Zoe shouted. "Give us a show!"

"Yeah," Emily whooped. "Make it count!" But her hands were balled into fists at her sides, and when Ryan caught Luca's jaw again, she flinched.

His ribs screamed at him, and the pain wiped out every rational thought he had left. His brain went quiet, which was terrifying, because the only thing left was the urge to hit back. The gym shrank to just Ryan. The way his muscles bunched under his skin. The sweat dripping down his temples.

Luca wanted to hurt Ryan. Not to test the system. Because Ryan had hurt him, and Ryan was standing there with that look on his face, legs moving like a wanna-be boxer, and Luca's entire body agreed that the correct response was violence.

Luca launched himself at Ryan, throwing everything he had into a right cross, then a left to the body, then another right that split the skin on his own knuckles. A savage grin stretched his lips as every hit landed solid. This had to be it, the pain and exertion and real fight they needed to finally break through this fucking level cap.

Ryan's fist cracked against his jaw. Copper flooded his mouth. Luca staggered but didn't go down, which was the only win he'd had in the last thirty seconds. Ryan shook it off, rolled his shoulders, and came at him again.

Luca tried to block, to counter, but Ryan was faster and stronger and apparently pissed off. A punch caught his temple and the gym tilted sideways. Another one folded him in half. His legs gave out. A final uppercut sent him crashing into the mat, and then the lights went out.

"Maybe you were right," he heard Joey's voice, muffled and distant, as if from the end of a long tunnel. "Maybe we are missing something."

Luca tried to open his eyes, to speak, but everything was dark and heavy. His skull pulsed. Every muscle was wet cement. None of his thoughts would line up straight, but the first one that managed to form was: did it work?

Strong arms lifted him. Luca blinked until the gym stopped spinning. Ryan stood over him, jaw set, guilt written across his face. He held out a hand.

"You alright?" he asked quietly.

Luca nodded, his head still spinning. "Yeah," he mumbled, his voice hoarse. "Just peachy."

Joey appeared beside him, holding a small spray bottle. "Here," he said, "this will help with the swelling." The mist hit Luca's face cold and sharp, and the pounding in his skull backed off a notch.

"So," Luca said, turning to look at Ryan, "Did it work?"

Ryan shook his head, glancing down at his hands. "Nothing."

Every ounce of energy left his body at once. They'd pushed themselves, pushed each other, and for what? They were still stuck. Still capped. And now his head was full of broken glass and his ego wasn't doing much better.

"Well, shit," Luca said, slumping against the wall. "Now what?"

Then an obvious, stupid thought struck him. "Hey, Ryan..." Luca said, his voice a little dazed. "Do you even have a hand-to-hand combat skill?"

Ryan blinked, his smile faltering for a second. "Uh... no," he admitted, scratching the back of his head. "Do you?"

Luca stared at him, then at the others, who were now looking at each other with dawning realization. "No," he said, his voice flat. "None of us do. We have weapons skills. Guns, mostly. You know, for shooting things. Not for... this." He gestured vaguely at his own face, then at the gym around them.

He wanted to facepalm, but his face hurt too much. They'd beaten each other up without a single hand-to-hand skill between them. Not one.

Ryan chose that moment to grin, which made Luca want to punch him all over again. "Well," he said, clapping Luca on the shoulder, "at least we got a good workout in."

Luca glared at him, but even he had to admit it was funny in a messed-up, we're-all-going-crazy-in-space kind of way. Though, he thought, maybe he should invest in a hand-to-hand combat skill if he ever came across a skill shard. Emily would probably kill him, though. They had spent hours working on his skill plan. Eh, what was one more skill?

Luca lingered by the viewport a second longer, watching the stars drift past. They hadn’t broken the cap. But they hadn’t broken each other either. He’d take it.

---

They were a sorry sight stumbling into the lounge. Every bruise on Luca's body had its own heartbeat. His face was one giant bruise, and he was pretty sure his ribs were cracked.

At least Ryan was sporting a nasty shiner, so Luca wasn't the only one who looked like he'd lost a bar fight. They were laughing, though. That hysterical, post-adrenaline kind of laughing where nobody was sure if it was funny or if they'd all just lost their minds.

"Idiots," Luca muttered, shaking his head. "We're fucking idiots."

"Speak for yourself," Ryan said, wincing as he touched his swollen eye. "But hey, at least we tried."

Luca dimmed the lights in the lounge, letting the starlight spilling in through the wide windows do the heavy lifting. He looked around for Emily. The lamps caught the leather couches and armchairs just right, and the whole room looked like something out of a movie. A good movie. The kind where people drank wine and didn't have cracked ribs.

He grabbed two bottles of wine from the stash his dad had handed him before they left and carefully opened one, trying not to spill like an idiot. They deserved this, bruises and all.

Pouring the wine into glasses, Luca raised his in an easy toast, the grin on his face more crooked than he’d planned, thanks to his swollen lip. “To surviving the Oort Cloud Passage and finally coasting into Alpha Centauri,” he said, his arm wrapped around Emily’s waist as she stood beside him. She looked amazing tonight, and so did the rest of the crew. Making it through the Oort Cloud did that to people. Everyone looked better, more alive.

They all raised glasses. The clink of glass on glass blended with murmured agreements, and for a second Luca let himself believe they had it figured out. They absolutely did not, but the last few days of constant course adjustments and tension thick enough to clog the FTL drive had earned them at least one night of pretending.

Emily passed out slices of pizza. Melted cheese and pepperoni hit the room like a threat, and damn, it landed. “Courtesy of Luca’s oregano,” she said, sprinkling some over Zoe’s slice with a flourish before handing it over. She paused as she passed him, her eyes dropping to the bruises on his chest, visible through his white shirt.

She moved around the room like she owned it. Before he could process what was happening, she was sitting on him, settling in like she'd been planning it all evening. His brain short-circuited for a solid two seconds. Every slight shift of her weight sent a jolt through his aching muscles, and he would rather die than ask her to move.

The warmth of her pressed against him felt different tonight, more intentional, like she was done waiting for him to figure his shit out. Three weeks of careful distance, of him convinced she had someone back on Earth, of both of them dancing around whatever this was. But she was here now, settled against him like she belonged there, and every unspoken conversation from the last three weeks was suddenly very, very loud.

Zoe leaned into Ryan, biting into her slice with her eyes closed, practically humming with satisfaction. "God bless the hydroponic garden. Who knew oregano could taste this good?"

"Me," Luca shot back, shifting under Emily and failing completely to not think about how good she felt pressed against him. Every time she moved, his ribs reminded him that Ryan had pummeled the shit out of him. How was he supposed to be normal like this?

Across the room, Joey scrolled through the movie catalog like it owed him money. “Man, is it just me, or do we have, like, no good movies left?” he said, scrolling past the same tired titles they’d already seen twice. What a clown.

Danny laughed, leaning over the pool table as he lined up a shot. “That’s because you burned through anything decent weeks ago. Don’t blame the catalog, blame your garbage taste.” Always the smug bastard.

Chris swirled his wine like he was in some fancy parlor, his tone dripping with mock sophistication. “A man who devours Deathstalker four times in a row has no leg to stand on,” he said, smirking.

Joey shot him a glare, sticking his tongue out like a five-year-old before going back to his pointless search.

Luca leaned back and let the noise wash over him. Laughter, pool balls cracking, Joey's terrible taste getting roasted. The bruises from their earlier stupidity still ached, but Emily was warm against him, her fingers drawing lazy lines along his forearm, and the knot in his chest that had been there for weeks finally loosened.

He leaned close to her ear, keeping his voice under the noise. "Hey... I've been meaning to talk to you. About us."

Emily turned slightly, her eyes meeting his. "Three weeks too late," she said. "But I haven't decided if I want to hear it yet."

Luca's brain stalled. That was not in any of the shower rehearsals. "Emily, I..."

"Just because I'm sitting here doesn't mean you're off the hook." Her fingers kept moving along his arm, but slower now and way more deliberate. She kept her voice gentle, but she meant every word. "You made assumptions. About me. About us."

He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, already hearing the internal commentary call him an absolute professional at this. "I know, I—"

"Do you?" Emily asked, tilting her head. Her hand moved to his chest, right over one of the darker bruises Ryan had left. She pressed. Not hard. Just enough. "Because I've been right here, Luca. For three weeks. Right here."

Joey and Chris were still arguing about movies ten feet away. Danny sank a pool shot and nobody clapped. The whole crew, completely oblivious to the fact that Luca was getting dismantled by a girl who weighed a hundred and twenty pounds and smelled like oregano.

A hundred and four points in Perception. He could spot a sniper nest at eight hundred meters and track a portal fluctuation through three walls. And he'd spent three weeks completely misreading the girl he'd known since he was six. Emily had been waiting the whole time, watching him fumble, probably entertained.

"So," she said, settling back against him with a smile that had no business being that sweet while her eyes said something else entirely, "I think I'll take my time deciding what I want to hear. And when."

Her hand slid down to his thigh, fingers finding the bruise there and squeezing. That was supposed to be her victory lap. The part where she stood up, left him stunned, and walked away with all the power. But Luca's arms tightened around her waist and pulled her back against him.

"Sure, Em," he said, his mouth close to her ear. "Whenever you're ready." His hand found the small of her back, and he leaned in, lips brushing her neck just below her ear. "But since you're sitting here..."

Her fingers went still on his thigh. When he pulled back just enough to see her face, the teasing smile was gone. Just Emily, looking at him like she'd forgotten to put her guard back up.

"Luca..." she started, but the command was gone from her voice.

"Mmm?" He kept her close. His face was swollen, his ribs were probably cracked, and the room smelled like pizza. Objectively the least smooth moment of his life. But somewhere between getting knocked unconscious and right now, Luca had stopped overthinking, and it turned out that was all he'd ever needed to do.

He caught Zoe glancing over at them, and heard her nudge Ryan. "Well, that's one way to handle it."

Ryan raised his glass in a small salute. "About damn time somebody made a move."

Even Joey looked up from the movie catalog.