Compete

by Vera Nazarian

  “Come, I need a drink,” I say flippantly, throwing glances around us—at the teens in the vicinity who are still staring at me and clapping as I move past them. “And I’ll tell you all about it.”

  We make our way to the perimeter toward the stations.

  Toward Aeson and Oalla, I note with satisfaction.

  Xel throws the CP and Oalla a daring grin and winks at me. “Wait here, im nefira, while I get your drink!” he intones loudly while nodding to the other Pilots. And off he goes in the crowd.

  I stop before Aeson Kassiopei and Oalla Keigeri, as they stand off to the side, talking quietly. I’m still breathing much too quickly, my pulse is racing, and my eyes are sparkling with excitement.

  Oalla glances at me and her one brow goes up, but she is smiling. “Wow!” she says to me. “Just, wow!”

  And then I see Aeson. His face is averted slightly, and his arms are folded at his chest, while he seems to be examining something a few feet away.

  Suddenly he turns to me. And—he is cold as ice. His expression is devastating. Oh, the frown, the barely leashed anger and accusation in his eyes!

  He stands like a demon before me.

  I am stunned.

  All my joyous confidence and euphoria evaporates in the blink of an eye.

  “Lark. We need to talk immediately. Come!” he says in a killing voice, and motions to me as he starts walking.

  “Okay. . . .” I glance briefly at Oalla and follow him as we move off a few steps away. Here he stops and turns to me.

  “What you did out there—that was extremely inappropriate,” he says in a hard voice filled with derision. “You used the desire power voice in public.”

  My lips part. “I did what?”

  But he does not relent.

  “The desire voice is only to be used in private, and only with individuals with whom you have an intimate relationship,” he continues, his gaze boring down at me. “Do you understand what you’ve done? You’ve just shamed the crew, all these people, my entire ship—”

  “Wait, Kass—what are you talking about?” Oalla interrupts him suddenly. She obviously followed us, and is now looking from Aeson to me with a slight frown. “But—she didn’t!”

  Aeson Kassiopei suddenly grows very quiet and turns to looks at her. “What?”

  “I mean, she didn’t use a power voice,” Oalla repeats, craning her neck at him curiously. “Admittedly, it was a very lovely and strong voice, and Gwen sang that classical piece beautifully, but it was just a normal unenhanced singing voice.”

  “But—” he says, pausing. And suddenly his face flushes wildly. It’s a deep scalding red, such a strong flood of color that it’s noticeable even despite the brilliant red illumination in the room.

  “I—” he says in a strange, quiet voice, and shakes his head. “I—I must go, excuse me. . . .”

  And without looking at me, or Oalla, he turns around and swiftly walks past us, and continues toward the exit doors of the Resonance Chamber.

  Oalla and I remain, staring at each other.

  I am still reeling. “Okay. . . . What? What did I do? What happened?” I say breathlessly, while a bitter lump pushes at the back of my throat, so that I’m ready to cry.

  Oalla pauses thoughtfully before answering me. She shakes her head slightly, bites her lips and says, “Don’t worry about it. You did nothing wrong. It’s all him. I’m sorry to say this—and please don’t quote me—but sometimes your commanding officer is a real idiot.”

  My mouth parts at her reply.

  Oalla throws a brief troubled glance in the direction that Kassiopei left. She then returns her attention to me. “In case I didn’t make it clear, Gwen, you did a wonderful job singing. Really, really well done, I’m impressed. Now, why don’t you go ahead and enjoy the rest of the dance. I am going to go after him and make sure everything is under control. If Keruvat comes looking for me, tell him I’ve left.”

  And with a friendly nod, Oalla Keigeri walks away quickly.

  I remain standing alone in the crowd.

  My mind—I think I’ve misplaced it somewhere.

  Okay, what just happened?

  Xelio comes back with my drink just as the last mournful strains of “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen dissipate into silence, and the four teenagers who’ve just performed the ancient classic do a wild, head-banging bow to the suddenly roaring dance crowd.

  “Thanks,” I say, taking the drink, while Xelio glances back at the stadium screens shaking his head with amusement.

  “Your Earth music,” he says. “It is so diverse and astounding.”

  “I’m not sure why everyone seems to be singing these really ancient songs tonight,” I mutter with a smile. “Maybe because we’re all a little homesick, and the old stuff has deeper roots.”

  “Where’s everyone?” Xel says. “Did the CP take off already? Not surprising.”

  “Oh yes, he did,” I say casually. “Oalla left too.”

  Xel laughs. “Their loss. Meanwhile, the dancing is about to resume. Ready for more zero gravity?”

  I nod pleasantly as I stand sipping my drink, looking at him, listening to him absentmindedly, while my thoughts and my focus have been derailed completely. Right this moment I’m still trying very hard to understand what it is that just happened a few minutes ago, and whether it’s a good or bad thing.

  I decide eventually that it’s a little of both.

  First, the good:

  I now know to a great degree of certainty that my commanding officer, Command Pilot Aeson Kassiopei definitely has feelings for me. Not sure how much of it has been achieved by my own provocative performance this evening, and how much has already existed beforehand, but the primary objective of this evening has been achieved—I know.

  And now the bad:

  The tragic aspect of knowing, is that now there’s nothing much to be done about it.

  That’s it.

  Nothing has changed, except maybe the fact that I’ve deeply embarrassed him on a personal level. But that’s a sacrifice I was willing to take in order to learn the truth, going into this thing with all my passion and yes, my gorgeous war paint on.

  I guess I’ve won the battle.

  But the war is still going to overwhelm me in the end.

  So let me just enjoy the rest of this Red Dance with a handsome, attentive, red-hot partner.

  Because tomorrow—and in the days and weeks ahead—I must still face him every day, the Imperial Crown Prince of Atlantis. And he must face me.

  Right now, I must confess, I have no idea how we’re going to manage. However, I’m guessing sadly, it will be all things as usual.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The very next day at the CCO confirms my expectations.

  I arrive just before 8:00 AM with a hammering heartbeat and a queasy feeling in my gut, and the two aides are not in yet.

  A few minutes later, Kassiopei walks in.

  My pulse goes wild. . . . Nervous cramps start tearing at me.

  I’m not sure if he expected me to be there alone so early, or if he simply took a chance. But he takes one step, then sees me and goes very still. For just a fraction of that first instant, his face reveals the remnant of an intensely vulnerable, almost frightened expression. And then a wall slams down, and he becomes blank, unreadable—the usual.

  “You . . .” he says quietly.

  All the colorful events of last night flash before me in the blink of an eye.

  “Command Pilot. . . .” I bravely look him in the eyes.

  “I—” He starts to speak, and then suddenly I see his face begin to flame with the same furious blush I’d seen yesterday.

  He shakes his head, as if he could shake it all away. And then he turns his face from me and simply goes to sit down at his desk, without another word.

  I suppose there will be no apology forthcoming either—an apology for needlessly reprimanding me.

  Something insane makes me get up from my seat and approach his
desk. I stand before him and he glances my way, without meeting my eyes.

  “I hope you’re not upset about last night,” I say softly.

  “There is nothing to be upset about,” he replies in a steady voice, looking at his computer screen.

  “But you seemed to be—”

  “I overreacted.”

  “I’m sorry if my song was too much.”

  In that moment he looks up at me with his lapis blue eyes. Oh, the look in those eyes!

  “Everyone seemed to enjoy it.” And he glances away again.

  I bite my lip. “But not you?”

  Suddenly he looks at me again, fiercely. “Lark, what do you want from me?”

  In that moment, I don’t know what to do with myself. My turn to blush like crazy—and I do. “Nothing,” I mutter, as my pulse continues to beat wildly.

  And then I return to my seat. All the while he watches me move, with a searing gaze that wants to swallow me whole.

  I feel its impact along the surface of my skin, as my fine hairs stand up on end, and electric waves engulf me. . . .

  Eventually he looks away.

  And we get to work.

  After that single outburst, the Command Pilot treats me with icy, aloof politeness and does not acknowledge anything that happened at the Red Dance.

  At some point later, when I am able to think rationally again and analyze things, I wonder if Oalla ever caught up to him last night—and if so, if they had some kind of “talk.”

  I’ve lost count of the number of times over all these months, that I’ve wondered how much of a friendship there is between them. Seems to me like all the four Pilots on ICS-2 are the CP’s “buddies” in one way or another. I suppose I will learn more eventually, as time goes by.

  Meanwhile, not only does Aeson not acknowledge his feelings for me, or anything else that happened (and neither does he offer that apology for reprimanding me for something I didn’t do) but he doesn’t seem to show any reaction or concern over the fact that I had a fantastic date with Pilot Xelio Vekahat.

  About that date—after the CP and Oalla left the Red Dance, Xel and I danced almost every dance and stayed till closing. Xelio, being in charge of things, had to stick around to make sure his crew wrapped things up properly. But right after midnight, he walked me back to my cabin, and just before I went inside, he stopped me.

  “Gwen Lark,” he said, leaning closely over me. “I thank you for a perfect night.”

  I expected a cheek-peck kiss maybe, or even a sweet kiss on the mouth. But Xelio took my hand, turned it over, wrist side up, pulled up my sleeve slightly and brought the hand up to his lips. He then kissed the inside of my wrist and his mouth lingered intensely . . . and oh wow, it sent a million electric currents throughout me.

  “In Atlantis, this is how we acknowledge a special time together,” he told me, after letting my hand go reluctantly—and I was equally reluctant to be released.

  “A wrist kiss?” I said with a playful smile.

  “A pulse kiss.” Xelio’s virile, dark-eyed gaze caressed me. “I hope it’s only the very first one.”

  And then with a wicked smile he was gone.

  I returned to my cabin, my mind overflowing, and my senses heightened to a fever pitch.

  Then, it being after midnight, it was time for Cinderella to turn back into a Gwen.

  So, that was the Red Dance, and its fallout. And now, business continues as usual at the CCO, and I expect nothing.

  Yes, I still hurt, and every time I see Aeson Kassiopei, my heart is pulled apart with a lonely, hollow need for him. But I’m a big girl—I can live with it.

  I continue with work and classes. One interesting side effect—Anu, at least, gives me a tiny bit more respect now that he’s seen me all dressed up and with Xelio.

  I also continue to train at the gym with Xelio on a regular basis, and now there’s an extra layer of pleasantly exciting physical tension between us. . . . Plus it appears Xel is very good company in general, charming and funny, in some ways reminiscent of Logan when Logan and I were at our best—a sparkling couple together. Xel and I are not exactly dating, but we see enough of each other that it’s safe to say we’re some kind of friends.

  Talking about Logan—I belatedly recall now that Logan did see me at the Red Dance. In fact, I remember his intense multiple stares throughout the evening, even while he was with that blonde. But I was so focused, so occupied with Aeson and Xelio and everything else, that Logan’s attention became a secondary thing.

  Wow, funny how some things change. . . . Logan used to be the one person who anchored me, and whom I thought I needed desperately. And now, it still hurts, there are still complicated unresolved feelings, but there is no longer the urgency to be with him.

  What’s happened to me?

  Meanwhile, the first month of Red ends, and with it, end our restrictions about flying in the Quantum Stream.

  We’re off the flight simulators once again, and real shuttle Pilot Training for Cadets resumes outside, all the way up to our arrival on Atlantis.

  My new Pilot Partner Chiyoko Sato and I settle in, and find that we are both tolerably decent partners, and our joint flying gradually improves. Chiyoko might not be perfect, but compared to working with Hugo, she’s a blessed angel.

  It turns out, neither one of us is particularly good at being specifically either the Pilot or Co-Pilot, or at least not in any pronounced way. We switch constantly, and we do okay in either role. But it is frustrating sometimes that we are still not doing as well as some other people, by this point in our training.

  Whenever we go out outside to take our limited turns with the shuttles (we all get only 5 runs a month per Cadet Pilot Pair), we end up scoring 3s and sometimes 4s on our performance. I don’t remember getting even a single 5, which makes me wonder—how will I ever perform well enough to be a viable contender for the Games of the Atlantis Grail in Aeson Kassiopei’s eyes?

  Meanwhile Instructor Okoi watches all of us like a hawk, and we are continually reminded that the Final QS Race will be a grueling test of all our abilities.

  Two more Red months pass, and during the third Red month, which coincides with February back on Earth, my brother Gordie has his birthday.

  Wow, Gordie turns fifteen this year. And naturally he absolutely forgets the day it happens—February 7—because it’s what he always does, and so does Gracie, because the only birthday Gracie ever remembers is her own—and for once so do I, which makes me an awful sister. So I end up trying to make it up to Gordie the following week, but it doesn’t work out, I can’t leave my ship that week, he can’t leave his, so I give up and just leave him numerous video messages with air kisses. Yes, I suck.

  And then we enter Yellow, the Atlantean season equivalent of Autumn.

  The first month of Yellow—and the tenth month of us being on the journey—signals that we’re in the final quarter of our journey. The fact that the Fleet is decelerating significantly is now visible, judging by the quality of the Quantum Stream around us—it is a finer, more translucent thing, and the view of the true interstellar space outside begins to intrude on the quality of the gray.

  By the second month of Yellow, our month eleven in space, we begin to see actual stars again. For so long, they were only flickering shadows barely emerging out of the homogeneous grey darkness during the previous three months. . . . And now at last they are showing up as points of true light with extended tails.

  What a weird wonder it is to know now we’re in such a distant and impossible location in the universe, so far away from our original home, Earth.

  We are now closer to Atlantis.

  And our Final Test, the second Quantum Stream Race, is only days away.

  With just three days to go until the QS Race, everyone’s doing practice shuttle runs, both outside and on the flight simulator consoles. The classroom deck is always busy and there’s a signup list to use the consoles even during after hours.

  Chiyoko Sato and I man
age to land a free half-hour time slot on the list, and so we meet up after dinner to use the flight simulator consoles one last time.

  It’s around 6:30 PM and the room is packed with Cadets running shuttle scenarios. There are several people milling around waiting for their turn on the consoles.

  Chiyoko is already here, saving our spot. She looks up at me tiredly, with her usual startled expression.

  “Hey,” I say with a smile. “Let’s do it!”

  And we power up the simulator and begin a run.

  “You be the Pilot first,” she tells me.

  I nod, and key myself to the Red and Green, Thrust and Brake, while Chiyoko takes the Yellow and Blue, Navigation and Adjustment.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Logan and Oliver come in and take a console desk nearby. Logan gives me a brief look then turns away.

  Immediately my heart skips a beat, and I hear the pulse in my temples pick up pace. Yeah, Logan still has an effect on me. . . .

  So I force myself to ignore him and focus on the task at hand.

  Chiyoko and I fly the virtual shuttle cleanly, and I engage the Red thrust to increase speed. Chiyoko handles the Blue Adjustment Grid, keeping us elegantly on course. “Time to slow down soon,” she warns me in her mellow quiet voice.

  I flip over to Green and engage the Brake. Our shuttle starts to slow down in a gradual deceleration as we enter the scenario’s shuttle bay.

  We finish and check our time. The Run Clock shows we took 17:04 minutes compared to the 15 minute Average.

  “Damn,” I mutter tiredly. “Is there anything we can do?”

  This is pretty much the same time we keep getting on every run, and have been getting for the last several weeks. Our improvement is minimal, pitiful, and sometimes it can be counted in seconds.

  Chiyoko looks at me and sighs. “I don’t know,” she says.

  We look at each other and think. Unfortunately as we do so, we are also wasting our precious time slot. As of this moment, we only have time for another practice run, and that’s it for our turn.