I can’t help laughing at Kit’s obvious attempt at tact. The chair is warm against my back when I lean into it. “Are you trying to tell me that I’m underqualified?”
No pause this time. “Absolutely, Captain. Sorry, Captain.”
I’m surprised when Marlowe actually turns up.
“Good morning.” Her voice is soft, even if her eyes are not.
The steel lining her expression steals all traces of humour from the room. Her taciturn manner is made starker by the bruises that mar her skin, though faded by now. They should already be fully healed, but I suppose with the RIND affecting her body, healing is slower, even with the Meditech.
Her bottom lip bears the small scar of yesterday’s fall. With her arms crossed firmly over her chest, Marlowe looks fierce. If asked, I’d be hard-pressed to explain why this sends a shiver through me. Still, in the absence of a prominent forehead vein, I tap out some commands on my console and watch as our view of the cosmos shrinks. In its place, the glass shimmers into an opaque form, turning all but a diminished area into a screen. Marlowe is now looking at the mirrored content of my pad.
She steps forward, neck craned. “This is the finished list?”
I nod and let her examine it, watching as her eyes dart quickly back and forth. She’s a quick reader, but I expected nothing less from someone whose mind works like hers.
Her shoulders tense even further, and she darts a look my way. “This is... extensive.”
“I know, although I admit my understanding of the intricacies is minimal.”
“You seem apologetic about that.”
I shrug. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to rely on you too heavily, but even with Kit’s help, it would be impossible for me alone.”
“You don’t need to worry about me. I assure you, I can hold my own.”
“I don’t doubt that.” I frown. “But this isn’t your job, and it, firstly, will void our insurance should anything go wrong andsecondly, take up a large amount of your time until we arrive at Red Horizon.”
That seems to surprise her. Her gaze drops down to meet mine, intent, and some of the rigidity leaves her posture. I know she’s angry at me—would be able to see that even if Vee hadn’t told me—but it’s almost mesmerising to watch the light ignite in her eyes, the softening of her mouth, the smoothing of her forehead.
“Can we get this done fast enough to prevent further delays?” I ask. “We’re already at a reduced speed.”
“If we start right now,” Marlowe hedges. “And you’re half competent with a multitool, we should be able to.”
She surprises a huff of laughter out of me. I catch her darting an amused glance my way.
“What, they don’t teach basic skills in the military anymore?”
My eyebrows shoot up into my hairline. I haven’t once mentioned my time as a sergeant to the crew, let alone to Marlowe. Unlike a lot of vets, I don’t carry any signs of my service on or about my person: no tats, medals, or tags. It was another lifetime; one I don’t particularly hold any attachment to—positiveornegative. People are always surprised when they hear that, but I don’t have answer for them.
“How do you—”
“It doesn’t take a rocket scientist,” Marlowe rolls her eyes. “It’s in the way you carry yourself: your posture, your walk. Your efficiency.”
Of that, I surmise that she’s been watching me, paying attention to the way I move and the things I do. It throws me. In a moment of stupidity, I say: “There’s no such thing as a rocket scientist.”
Marlowe throws her head back and laughs, startling me. It’s throaty, full, pulled straight from her stomach in peals that send goosebumps across my skin. I feel warmth bloom in mycheeks. Before meeting Marlowe, I’d never blushed a day in my life. Still, I’m helpless to do anything other than watch her, fascinated by the looseness of her muscles, the lines forming in the corners of her eyes and the wrinkle of her nose. I don’t feel like I’m the butt of a joke even as she laughs at me.
How does she always manage that?
“It’s an old Tellurian idiom.” She finally says. “It just means it was obvious to me that you’re a veteran.”
Ah. The Tellurians have a lot of odd sayings that stopped making sense with the advancement of society. I nod, noting the way she stands now with her body angled towards me. Whereas before I was the enemy, now I can barely believe she was ever angry. Briefly, bizarrely, I wonder what it must be like to be so... expressive. That was trained out of me a long time ago, and it wasn’t in the army.
“Does it bother you?” Marlowe asks.
I blink a few times, snapping back to attention. “Does what?”
“Talking about it. If it does, I apologise, and I won’t bring it up again. I know how that can go.”
