Krag came next, releasing the clamps and softly lifting his CERVE on its control jets. He slowly babied it through the doors. Keiko meticulously watched, nervously determined to match Krag’s easy exit. She didn’t quite get it right. After releasing her clamps, her first lift was quicker than expected and the overcompensation resulted in her bouncing her struts on the deck.
“Kuso, Kuso, Kuso” Keiko exclaimed.
“My, my. What language from such a delicate little bird,“ Keiko heard over her intercom. Krag humorously continued, “That’s the first time I’ve heard that since I was in the Federacy. And then it was when I’d take my flight mate’s poker chips.” Switching to a more serious tone, Krag ordered, “Stay frosty, Sparrow.”
“I apologize, Captain, um Hawk.”
“Slow and easy. I’ve seen you in action. I saw your sim runs. Show me how it’s done.” Krag’s voice flowed with a soothing confidence that helped her sharpen her focus.
Keiko buckled down, took a slow breath and again went for liftoff. This time she rose smoothly and, after a small jerk, floated out through the bay doors. Once clear and safe, she throttled back and waited. Seeing Krag standing off and watching wrapped Keiko in a feeling of strength and that all was well. It didn’t expel her nervousness but it did bolster her will to control it.
“Well done, Lassie. I knew you had it in ya.”
Hank’s compliment helped her relax but, being the first time she had ever piloted her own ship, her butterflies were still energetically flapping.
It took Krag about ten minutes to master the attributes of his craft. The next two hours were slow practices of Keiko learning to handle the small stealth ship. Everyone pitched in, offering encouragement and guidance. Keiko learned to fly in formation with Krag. They practiced coming about, accelerating, decelerating and hovering. Towards the end of practice they did multiple landings and launchings, first with Krag leading and then with Keiko.
The first day ended well. Mack, in the shuttle, Krag and Keiko in their stealth ships returned to the Griffin. Taking over the controls, Krag flew his ship back to the shipyards, settled into the hanger and everyone went their ways, preparing for the coming evening.
Krag lay stretched out on his bunk in his captain’s quarters, wearing nothing but underwear, his hands locked behind his head, arms splayed across the pillow. With his legs straight and ankles crossed, he stared at the ceiling as he tried to intellectually evaluate everyone’s performance. But his mind and emotions kept drifting to the small Asian woman that kept invading his thoughts. Keiko wasn’t even close to him during the day. He and she each flew their own mini-ships. Yet, he felt her presence, knew that she was there.
As a wing commander, he had known the experience of flying formations, tracking his charges. As a major in the Federacy, he had established the tight camaraderie of men in arms. But, this was something new for him. The Federacy major, the solitary space pilot, the commander of pilots was no longer wrapped in his singular aloneness, his position of authority. Keiko had slowly immersed herself into his psyche, his being. For the first time in many years, Krag Marston didn’t feel alone. And that excited him. It also pushed him into the emotional waters of inexperience and doubt.
Krag began to dress for the coming dinner with the McCauley family. Keiko’s beguiling intrusion into his state of being caused Krag wanting to look good for her. Wading into waters he hadn’t swum in for a long time, he decided to dress with style, selecting his attire taking much longer than usual. This resulted in a billowy pull-over white blouse with a collar and long sleeves. The pants, soft, cream-colored, uncreased cotton slacks. He completed the outfit with a pair of deck shoes, no socks. Standing in front of the mirror, he rolled up the sleeves, showing muscular forearms and large hands. He left his collar-length, blond hair slightly wild.
Going to the small cabinet, Krag pulled out a bottle and a rocks glass. After pouring himself two fingers of scotch, he sat on his couch and stared at nothing, just letting his mind wander as he relaxed and waited for the evening.
Keiko moved around her suite, still wired up from her stint in the little space plane. The flush of adrenaline that had surged through her system while flying had finally burned off. But the serotonin rush still kept her energized and smiling. Finally stepping into the shower, she let the day’s experience play through her memories, triggering different emotions at each of her actions. The exhilaration she had felt while piloting her ship around the void of space hadn’t left her. It took an effort to pull herself out of her reverie to even remember if she had washed her hair, so deep was she enmeshed in her remembrances of the day. Exiting the shower and toweling down, the diminutive Asian woman slipped on a pair of panties and returned to flitting around her suite.
And something, actually someone, kept her awash with quiet excitement and soft-flowing euphoria-Captain Krag Marston. Keiko, the small woman, was self-reliant. She knew, that if she put her mind to it, she could accomplish almost anything. Her first day in the stealth ship reinforced her belief. But having Krag there that day, having the big, strong captain constantly near, constantly guarding over her, strengthened her self-belief. Knowing that he watched over her gave her an inner serenity that anchored her as she fought the anxiety of untried capabilities. His strong, patient voice added focus and determination to succeed. Keiko liked that feeling. She liked the sense that Krag was near. She wanted more of that feeling.
Pushing out the wool-gathering, Keiko redirected her thoughts to what she would wear tonight. Standing almost naked, with hands on her hips she stared at her steamer trunk, trying to decide on the image she wanted for the evening. After rejecting seductive, formal or business-like, Keiko settled on summertime comfortable. She selected a loose-fitting, azure blouse. Being small breasted, Keiko decided to forego a bra. Pulling a white, wrap-around skirt off of its hanger and tying it on, she checked that just enough leg showed as she walked. After slipping on a pair of open-toed sandals, she finished her look with a simple silver necklace and silver stud earrings.
Just as Keiko finished applying a pale lipstick she heard the knock on her door. Grabbing her clutch, she crossed her stateroom, stepped forward so that one bare leg displayed and opened the hatch.
Keiko smiled. She saw the large captain casually dressed, loose robed in a blouse and casual slacks. Him standing there flummoxed, dumbfounded. He must have started to say something, as his mouth froze, partially open.
Krag saw a beautiful, simply dressed Asian woman. Her partially bare leg, V-necked blouse and simple jewelry floored him. He lost his train of thought, his prepared quick phrase to start the evening.
“That worked,” Keiko thought.
“Mr. Marston,” she said.
“Mz. Suzume,” Krag finally responded. “Very, very nice.”
“You don’t look half bad, yourself, big guy.”
Striking a pose, with his arm out, Krag asked, “Shall we?”
Taking his arm, Keiko answered, “By all means.”
The two exited Griffin. As they walked the expansive hanger deck, Keiko continued to hold Krag’s arm. Walking companionably in silence, each basked in the close presence of the other.
The soft arm laying across his forearm, the soft hand resting on his wrist, trapped Krag’s consciousness. The soft breast that brushed his elbow, the almond eyes that would periodically flit a look at his face and just as quickly flit back to watching their progress trapped his emotions.
Keiko felt the strong arm that she softly held. Her arm rested against the corded muscles, her hand rested on his wrist. Periodically she would lose her quick stride and show her leg. Or she would accidently brush her un-braed breast against his elbow. Thinking back, Keiko didn’t believe these acts of seduction were intentional, but simply a woman unconsciously attracting a man.
The two reached Hank’s family quarters with Krag slightly off kilter and Keiko wrapped in her peaceful serenity. After the knock and as the door opened, Keiko released Krag’s arm, dropp
ed her hand and dropped her look. Krag had just enough time to regain his composure, put on his public face and greet his friend.
Hank invited them in, introduced them to his wife, Anna, and reacquainted them with his son. The evening unwound as planned, with drinks, dinner, dessert and small talk. The closeness of the McCauley family was obvious. So was the dance that Krag and Keiko were going through.
Throughout the dinner, Krag sat next to Keiko. Her slightly open skirt showing her knee and part of her upper leg, kept drawing his attention. When she reached for her wineglass he would get a flash of her ivory breast or just a hint of it pressing against her blouse. Krag had to make a huge effort to stay focused on his hosts and the conversation.
Throughout the evening, Keiko stayed in a corner of his mind. He ended up constantly verifying that she enjoyed herself. He constantly exerted the effort to insure that her experience with him and his friends was pleasurable.
Keiko hid her own inner thrill well. Underneath the calm appearance, her heart fluttered, affected by the heat that radiated from the large man sitting next to her. For her, the evening was double-pronged. She intellectually focused on contributing to the ambiance of the group. Her emotional focus kept being drawn to watching Captain Marston in a new environment, a casual environment. Keiko observed and saw a new side of Krag. She saw a man comfortable in his own skin, confident in his ability to interact within a group. And she saw his boyish awkwardness in being close to her. And she saw something else. She saw how Krag constantly maintained a cognizance of her presence. She saw how he focused on insuring that her evening was one of pleasantry and enjoyment.
Keiko liked his attentiveness. Under her veneer of traditional Asian demeanor, she bathed in his attention. Krag never knew.
The entire evening flowed with camaraderie, friendship and bonding. Hank and his wife passed knowing looks as they watched the non-verbal interplay unfold between their two guests. Mack was in his element, quizzing a fighter pilot and smuggler, digging for the details on successes and failures, trying to tie them to technical ideas and designs.
As the night went on and Krag was able to periodically deflect his distraction from Keiko, he became more and more impressed with Hank’s son. Mack showed himself to be intelligent, knowledgeable and imaginative. His questions were pointed and insightful Krag had to dig deeply for detailed answers. And it was apparent that Mack was completely enthralled with space, its wonderment and the technical inventions that overcame its inherent dangers. Periodically Hank or Anne would attempt to restrain Mack’s enthusiastic querying of Krag’s exploits but Krag would wave them off, enjoying the dialogue.
At evening’s end, Krag and Keiko companionably walked back to their respective cabins. Their wine-tipsy quietness and careful spacing between their bodies bespoke more about their non-verbal interplay than anything else could have. Their polite, almost formal wishes of goodnight only emphasized each one’s personal knowledge of their own growing connection to the other. But neither one could summon the courage to be the first to break the separateness. So they each went to their own bed, and dreamed their singular dreams.
* * * * *
The next morning found Griffin again floating in the open area of the asteroid belt. Keiko stood in the cargo bay by her little jet, suited and excited, waiting for her next day of practice. Mack had already refueled the CERVEs and was currently going through the diagnostics to insure that all was perfect. Krag walked onto the deck and smiled at Keiko’s enthusiasm. Quick flashes of remembered thoughts and emotions from the previous evening flicked around his mind as he endeavored to focus on the task at hand. Hank stood back, watching the group go about their preparation, focusing on his boy. He raised an arm, beaconing Krag to come over.
“Well, boyo, how’s your girl doing?” Hank asked with a sly smile.
“None of that, Hank. We’ve got a job to do. And, Keiko is doing just fine,” Krag answered. “In fact, better than fine. With time and practice, she’ll be a very good pilot.”
“My thoughts, exactly. On another topic. I’ve decided. You’re taking Mack.”
“Mack? He belongs here. The job is just an in-and-out. I’d rather not have to worry about someone else,” was Krag’s response.
“No, you’re taking him. You need an engineer to keep my ship running.”
Krag raised an eyebrow at Hank’s possessive bond with Griffin.
“And you need him to make sure your CERVEs are at maximum capacity. Besides, you can’t rely on your AI, Duke, to protect the ship while the two of you are gone.
Krag knew that Hank didn’t know about Buster, so he kept silent about his real AI. “But Mack? He’s your boy. Give me someone else. Where we’re going is dangerous.”
“Nope. It’s Mack. I can’t go. I run this place. Besides, I’m too old. And there’s no one else around here that I’d trust. Besides, he’s the best. My boy will do you and me proud. So that’s it. You’re taking Mack. Now, go play flighty-flight with your wee lassie.”
Krag groaned, both for having to accept the responsibility of Hank’s boy and Hank’s dig about him and Keiko. “You’re not going to let it go, are you?” Krag whined.
“Never, me lad. Now, go play.”
The two amiable men watched as Mack helped Keiko into her little jet. Then Krag went over and climbed into his. He put on his helmet and went through his own pre-flight diagnostics.
Hank and Mack went to their assigned places. Hank took over the piloting of Griffin. Mack climbed aboard the shuttle and eased it into space, once again assuming a position of observation and support. Today, Krag let Keiko lead. He watched as she smoothly lifted her stealth ship, oriented towards the open bay and babied it into space. With a nod of approval, Krag followed suit.
Once in space, Krag haled Keiko. “Ok, Sparrow. You have control. Take us a short way into the asteroid belt. I want to watch your reaction times and decision making.”
“Understood, Hawk.” Keiko answered in a voice of professionalism and confidence.
“And play it safe. Stay away from tumblers or asteroids that have rebounded and any with tangential collisions.”
“Copy, Hawk.”
The rest of the morning and most of the afternoon was spent with Keiko leading and Krag following. At various points Krag would comment on eccentricities of approaching asteroids, direct Keiko on various maneuvers or simply explain various scenarios and what to look for.
The day went extremely well. No mishaps occurred and the three space ships returned to the Griffin without issue. Again, Krag and Keiko had dinner at the McCauley home. And that evening also went extremely well. The companionship became more pronounced. The give and take was good natured. Even Keiko contributed to the conviviality. She told of a botched caper, fleeing security, dashing through the streets and finally finding a bar where she flirted with a man for the evening to hide from her pursuers.
Krag did have a twinge of jealousy, which surprised him. And he was enchanted with the sparkle in her eyes, her gestures as she spoke, her mouth as she laughed at her own foibles. The evening came to a close. Hank and his wife watched as Krag and Keiko walked back to their cabins, without touching. Hank took Anna’s hand, shook his head and led his wife back inside. Krag and Keiko reached their destination and repeated the ritual of the previous evening, neither taking the first step.
* * * * *
“You have got to do something about that girl there,” began Hank’s conversation with Krag the next morning.
“It’s a job, Hank. Besides, she’s not into me,” Krag responded as he watched Mack, once again, take Keiko through her pre-flight preparations.
“I swear, boy, when it comes to the fairer sex, you are about as dense as a bulkhead. Haven’t you ever been in love?”
“Nope. I’ve had my chances, but nothing ever worked out,” Krag answered, shaking his head. ”I’ve been too busy. Besides, being a pilot flying all over the galaxy kind of squashes any chances of meeting the right one.”
> “Well that one’s a keeper. So don’t be stupid. And, underneath all that Asian inscrutability, she’s interested.”
“Yeah, right. How would you know that?”
“Married, remember? Women know. Anna told me.”
The two men continued to stand and watch. Hank watched his boy with a professional eye, seeing Mack’s attention to detail and basked in the pride of a well-raised son.
Krag watched Keiko with a new perspective. He was attracted to the small woman. There was no doubt in his mind about that. But he didn’t know where to begin. In real relationships, he was a neophyte. With his twenty-some years of piloting, he didn’t even know if he had the emotional makeup to even be in one. Just thinking about it made him nervous. Pushing his conversation with Hank and its subsequent thoughts out of his mind, Krag re-focused on the job at hand.
* * * * *
The next three days were spent flying, planning and bonding. Krag, Keiko and Mack slowly melded into a working team. Keiko became more proficient with her stealth jet. Mack became more accustomed to Krag’s command and more familiar with Griffin. Krag reverted back to the leader of a team focused on a mission. Throughout that time, Keiko would periodically catch Krag looking at her. He would flash a quick smile, avert his eyes and focus on whatever he was doing. Keiko would see the look, the facial expression and store the experience as another clue that the large, shy man was interested. Then she would return her focus to the task. The plan for the heist evolved into a detailed operation that, as it was fine-tuned, became more and more feasible. Finally, all was ready.
Anna hugged her son, held his head in her hands and kissed him on his cheek. An embarrassed Mack shook his father’s hand, clapped him on his back and stepped back. Then Anna hugged Keiko, whispered something in her ear and released her. Krag shook Hank’s hand, hugged Anna and stepped back.
Sleeping in the Stars (Marston Chronicles Book 1) Page 19
