Just great.
When she didn’t jump up, apologize to the Commander like she should, and scuffle over to the right seat, Park allowed his jaw to stiffen. He also allowed his thoughts to open.
“Get the hell up from that seat, Vira. This row is reserved for commanders. You’re not one, so jump up before you make a scene.”
Finally she reacted. Park didn’t honestly know how extensive her psychic abilities were, and he couldn’t tell whether he’d just done the thinking equivalent of shouting at her, but at least it worked.
She got up, turned around, snapped a salute, and began to walk off.
“Apologize to him,” Park thought as loudly as he could. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, sir,” he added, realizing he would have to script her a way out of this.
Surprisingly, Vira did exactly as he ordered. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, sir,” she said. She shifted away.
Park tried to ignore the judgmental stares of the other crew aboard the transport.
Great, Vira now had a name for herself, and they weren’t even aboard the Apollo yet.
He shadowed her to the right seat this time and pointed to it.
She sat.
It took several seconds until people stopped staring at her and the crew started to chat amongst themselves.
Vira started to play with her fingers. For someone he was relatively sure always had a comeback for every comment, she was being suspiciously quiet, and he could easily predict it was because of whatever the hell had passed between Vira and Forest.
Some part of him appreciated that it wouldn’t be easy for Vira. Trapped in her own little world with barely any human contact for 20 years. But as soon as he conceded that, he shoved the distracting thought away. All he had to do – all he damn well had to do – was keep her in line. Which would be a hell of a lot harder now she already had a reputation. The Commander she’d disrespected turned around in his seat and shot her a long, calculating look, probably taking a mental picture of her face to ensure he could keep an eye on her.
Just fantastic.
The transport finally took off.
There was an electronic countdown at the front of the compartment. It gave a live estimate of how long it would take until they arrived at the Apollo. It was a rough estimate, though. Though this transport had full access to the Earth security and scanner satellites, and could use the constant meteorological data from them to predict how long it would take for the transport to shift through the upper levels of the atmosphere and reach the Apollo, it couldn’t be predicted exactly.
Several ensigns and lieutenants seated behind Park and Vira began predicting just how long it would take. It was a tradition of sorts amongst crew who were joining a new ship. Whoever predicted the exact transport time down to the closest microsecond would get free drinks at the bar.
“2 minutes, 54 seconds, 29 deciseconds,” one of the Ensigns said.
“Come on, this transport is way faster than that. 2 minutes, 54 seconds, and 19 deciseconds,” one of the lieutenants rebutted.
They all gave their guesses.
Park grinned. He loved this game. He was great at it, too. He had a natural ability to estimate time and distances.
Though Vira had been the one to take the limelight when they’d entered the transport – for all the wrong reasons – he knew most of the crew had recognized him.
He heard one of the lieutenants clear his throat in the seat behind. He shifted forward. “Lieutenant Park, right? It’s great to have you aboard, sir. My name’s Lieutenant Edwards. What’s your prediction, sir?”
Park grinned again as he turned around in his seat. “Sorry, kids, but you’re all wrong – 2 minutes, 54 seconds, and 11 deciseconds.”
“We’re all happy to be corrected,” Lieutenant Edwards said with a chuckle.
“Very well. You’re all wrong,” Vira said flatly in that same innocent voice she always used when she was pointing out what was obvious – at least to her. And though Park was starting to understand her better, to everyone else, it would sound outright rude. “We’ll encounter turbulence in the upper atmosphere. It will take precisely 2 minutes, 45 seconds, 45 deciseconds, and 34 centiseconds, 12—”
“Enough,” Park thought loudly.
Vira stopped.
What had begun as a light interaction with the crew behind them ended with a fizzle.
Park was still half turned around in his seat, and he saw the lieutenants and ensigns shoot each other looks.
He tried to smooth things over with a chuckle. “She’s a little pedantic. Means well though,” he said.
He heard Vira open her mouth. No doubt to correct him.
“Don’t say anything; just let me smooth things over, for God’s sake,” he thought loudly.
Fortunately, Vira just shrugged.
Wait, no – she didn’t just shrug. As he caught sight of her face, she looked confused again. Why did he suddenly get the overbearing impression that Vira was just like the awkward kid in the playground who really wanted to interact with the other kids but just didn’t know how?
As Park shifted back into his seat, he saw just what he didn’t need to – the Commander Vira had been rude to. He was shooting her another calculating look, obviously appreciating that she wasn’t just rude to commanders, but she was rude to junior staff, too.
Just fantastic.
Fortunately Vira didn’t say another word as the transport continued its short trip up to the Apollo.
Park found himself staring at the time on the countdown dash. Though technically it did show the estimated time of arrival right down to the nanosecond, nobody could predict that far. The tradition of the game dictated you predicted down to the decisecond, no further. Why did he get the impression that if he hadn’t stopped Vira, she would’ve predicted down to Planck time?
Park wasn’t at all surprised, though mightily irritated, when the transport finally docked with the Apollo and the time of arrival was precisely what Vira had predicted.
The ensigns and lieutenants in the row behind, however, were flabbergasted. No one had ever predicted down to such a precise unit of time before. And though, technically, Vira could have just guessed – the crew behind him would be relatively conversant with statistics, and the likelihood would be small.
So much for getting to the second moon of the Expanse and finding out what the Force had left behind. Not for the first time, Park found himself wondering why the Admiral simply hadn’t loaded him and Vira onto a reconnaissance vessel and sent them straight to the Expanse in private. It would have cut down this nightmare. He already knew the answer to that. That would make Vira too visible. She had to simply look like an ordinary Coalition officer. Let her out of the Academy and start sending her on high-level recons, and the Force’s spies within the Coalition would start to predict who she was.
To be honest, Park didn’t agree with that, but maybe he didn’t fundamentally understand how much the Academy top brass was willing to do to keep Vira’s secret safe.
And beyond that, to keep her safe at the same time.
To be honest, right now Park didn’t care.
Because as the troop transport landed and people started to shuffle off, he had to maneuver himself between the oblivious Vira and the freaked out ensigns and lieutenants behind.
They all shot her the kind of looks you would give someone who could predict a transport arrival time better than a goddamn computer with access to the Earth meteorological net.
Park found himself grinning. There was a lot a well-placed charming smile could do, after all.
“Is she bionic or something?” Edwards asked.
Park let out a snort. “No, just lucky. She’s been playing that game for years. Statistically, you’ve got to get it right once in a while.”
Edwards seemed slightly mollified.
Though not many people appreciated this, Park let his combat skills govern his social interactions. And right now, though Edwards’ suspicion of Vira had
been slightly injured, if you will, Park needed to go in for the kill.
“You’re Henry Edwards, right? I think I worked with your brother on a mission recently – Stanley, right? Great guy.”
Edwards’ face lit up. “You know Stan?”
“Sure do. Great engineer. Which class are you?” Park asked, even though he had a functioning set of eyes and could tell that Edwards was an engineer, based on his uniform, that wasn’t the point. Distraction was.
Sure enough, Park’s questions and generally charming, chatty nature managed to distract most of the crew until they filed off into the hangar bay.
Though Edwards tried to continue the conversation, Park slipped straight back into responsibility mode.
He had no choice.
Vira took a look at one of the exposed energy cables that ran along the floor of the hangar bay toward a ship that was being kept in stasis with a shield. Any ordinary cadet – hell, any ordinary recruit – would know that you wouldn’t wander up and touch one of those cables. Not only was there a permanent warning set of lights demarcating it along the floor, but hello, it was pulsing with energy. So why did Vira suddenly reach a hand out?
Park cleared his throat and darted forward. He slapped a hand on the back of her shoulder in what everyone else would interpret as a friendly pat. “Keep your hands to yourself, for God’s sake. Touch that cable, and it will kill you. Sorry, would kill you if you were ordinary,” he corrected as he thought to her.
She reacted. She shifted forward, breaking his grip on her back. Fortunately, however, she did not continue to reach toward the cable. Instead, she tugged down on her uniform and shifted her gaze until she locked it on the floor.
What had he said?
It took him a second, then he realized – it was the comment about her not being ordinary, wasn’t it? What was with this woman? She was a Spacer, for God’s sake. She wasn’t ordinary. In no stretch of the imagination. She would know that. So why pretend she was anything else?
Fortunately, he was smart enough to keep those particular thoughts to himself.
The Commander she’d pissed off strode halfway through the hangar bay, then promptly turned around.
Though several of the crew from the transport had been shifting past him, immediately they stopped.
Though the Commander didn’t need to say it, obviously he was about to give everyone an impromptu speech.
Park didn’t recognize the guy. Nor had he been listed on the troop transport. Obviously he’d been a last minute add-on.
The Commander cleared his throat.
As one, without further order, the crew from the transport began to assemble in front of him.
“Stay right beside me and do exactly what I do. Make eye contact with him. Don’t blink,” Park thought. “No, wait, blink a little. As much as an ordinary human would if they were trying to maintain steady eye contact. Maybe… 6 times a minute,” he added, realizing he would have to give very specific instructions. Maybe he was going overboard, but it sure as hell didn’t feel that way. Vira might technically know some of the traditions of the Academy and the Coalition, but it was becoming abundantly clear that there were massive holes in her knowledge when it came to proper decorum. Of course there would be. She treated the Admirals like they were nothing more than irritating parents. And worse, the Admirals allowed her to do that. If Vira had been his charge, he would’ve dealt with her completely differently.
“Yes, you would have run away, Arrogant Park,” Vira said.
Crap. He hadn’t guarded his thoughts again.
Worse?
The Commander heard.
“Sorry, what did you say, Lieutenant?”
Vira looked nonplussed. “I apologize. I wasn’t speaking to you.”
“Sounded like you were. My name, as I was just about to tell the assembled crew here, is Commander Park Jameson. Not Arrogant Park,” he said, lips as stiff as they could possibly be.
The rest of the assembled crew stiffened, some of them wincing, all of them knowing what would come next. Except for Vira, of course.
An angry Commander was bearing down on her, and she looked as if she couldn’t care less.
Crap.
That only pissed Commander Jameson off more.
From the exact ruddy color his cheeks turned, it was clear he was going to dress Vira down in front of everyone. And it was becoming abundantly clear that Vira had no freaking clue how to act contrite, let alone how to appropriately treat senior members of staff.
Park cleared his throat. “She was speaking to me, sir. My name is also Park. I have a nickname around the Academy – Arrogant Park. I apologize – I appreciate that seemed bad. Lieutenant Carlisle apologizes too,” Park added.
Commander Jameson ignored him. He zeroed in on Vira. “Carlisle, you do not need another Lieutenant to speak for you and defend you on your behalf. I expect you to apologize directly for your own mistakes.”
It took Vira a moment to react.
“You’re Carlisle, remember – Lieutenant Astrid Carlisle,” Park thought at her as loudly as he could. “Now you do exactly as I say. Repeat after me – Sir, I apologize. I recognize my poorly chosen words were offensive.”
It took Vira a moment. “Sir, I apologize. I recognize my poorly chosen words were offensive,” she said, and fortunately she didn’t sound as if she was simply repeating something. Even more fortunately, she almost looked sorry. But anyone who was looking at her carefully would realize she looked far more confused than contrite. Why wouldn’t she? Vira had never been dressed down by anyone in her life. And the only arguments she’d ever had were with the highest-level Admirals in the Academy.
Jameson didn’t look pleased, but fortunately, at that moment, the doors on the opposite side of the hangar bay opened, and in walked the Captain.
“Just don’t say a word unless you’re spoken to,” Park thought quickly. “And if you are spoken to, pause politely until I tell you what to do.”
She didn’t reply. Apparently she couldn’t. Though she could pick up people’s thoughts, as the Admiral had described it, unless someone was from a naturally psychic race, they wouldn’t be able to hear hers. Fortunately, she gave the slightest nod of acknowledgment.
Park’s shoulders relaxed, but only a little. He wouldn’t be relaxing until they were down on the second moon. And that? Oh God, that would take two and a half weeks. Two and a half weeks with one seriously pissed off Commander Jameson keeping an eye on her.
This would be absolute bloody murder.
Fortunately, the Captain’s speech was over quickly, and he dismissed all new crew to their quarters to settle in. But while that was a blessing, the Captain also pointed out that Commander Jameson was a special placement who’d been brought in to shake up the security division of the ship. The problem? Park was part of the security division, and considering he had to keep a permanent eye on Vira, she was in security, too.
Park’s skin crawled with dread as he walked out of the hangar bay and waited for his turn with one of the lifts that would lead to the accommodation deck.
There was one thing he had to admit was pretty handy. Though it creeped him out that Vira could technically read his mind when he wasn’t guarding it, at least it meant he could give her instruction and converse with her without anyone else knowing. Though it reduced the effectiveness of this secret communication that she couldn’t talk back to him, in another way it was a massive blessing. Because at least it meant she couldn’t argue.
When Vira went to push past people at the front of the line to get to the lift, he sent her a quick thought, “Wait your turn.”
She ground to a stop.
People were looking at her. Some of them were the crewmembers who’d been sitting behind Park and Vira on the transport, the rest of them had seen Commander Jameson’s epic dressing down of her.
There were always one or two castaways who would come on a new ship – cadets who’d just scrounged through the Academy, or unlucky souls who
got on the wrong side of their XO when they came aboard. They were never usually lieutenants, though. Bad apples were usually picked out by the time they climbed the command chain.
Vira looked to be in her own world as the lift opened and it was their turn to enter. He had to clear his throat. “Are you coming?” he said, this time out loud.
She took a moment to make eye contact.
He doubted she was still thinking of the Admiral’s peculiar behavior before they’d left Earth.
No, she looked confused and… kind of crestfallen. Not ashamed, exactly, but like someone who was being pushed out of a social circle.
And it struck him.
She was reading the thoughts of the crew around them. While Park could predict that everybody was intrigued by her, Vira would know exactly how they felt.
Worse? She would’ve been able to read Commander Jameson’s mind. Again, Park could predict based on his years of experience with men exactly like Jameson how Jameson was planning to treat Vira – Vira would know with firsthand experience of the man’s thoughts.
That thought sat with Park like an un-digestible meal until finally they got in the elevator, quickly reached the accommodation deck, and found their rooms. Fortunately, they were side-by-side. It would’ve been murder if Vira had been out on her own. And, come to think of it, fortunately Admiral Forest had had the foresight to make Vira a lieutenant – meaning she would have her own room. Park couldn’t even begin to imagine what would happen if she had to share.
Park desperately wanted to go into her room so he could have a verbal conversation with her. But there were too many people around.
“Dammit,” he thought to her. “Just head into your room and wait a bit. I’ll come in a second when the coast is clear.”
She walked up to her door, opened it, and strode through.
Had she gotten that? Was she just blanking him?
Park teetered there for several seconds, wondering if he should follow her in before she did anything stupid.
He decided it would look too dodgy. The last thing he needed was to get a reputation that he was dating her. Not only did you have to explicitly tell your Captain if you formed a relationship with any of the crew, to ensure it didn’t jeopardize your duties, but, hello, Vira was Vira.
Vira Episode One Page 6
