Park eventually walked into his own room.
And Vira was already standing there with her arms crossed.
Fortunately she wasn’t in eyeshot of the doorway, and as it closed behind Park, he looked surprised. Then he frigging reminded himself who he was dealing with. “You can’t just transport willy-nilly – the Apollo’s sensors may be able to pick you up,” he growled.
“They can’t,” she said simply.
“How do you—”
“I understand my limitations better than you do. I have also trained for many different scenarios. I am aware of the standard scanning protocols of every single class of Coalition ship, and I know how to hide my tracks from all of them,” she said flatly.
He opened his mouth but paused. He had to remind himself who he was dealing with – he kept saying that, but he kept forgetting exactly what Vira was. She wasn’t an ordinary Spacer, for God’s sake. Though he had no idea what this so-called other part of her was, it was enough that she had been kept like a crown jewel in the basement of the Academy for 20 frigging years, and only the most senior staff knew about her existence.
He swallowed. “You need to be damn careful. Also, you can’t just read anyone’s thoughts,” he said, quickly returning to the original point that had been bothering him since the hallway. “It’s a massive invasion of privacy,” he snapped.
She simply looked at him, her arms crossed.
“You should be aware that anyone with psychic abilities in the Coalition needs to ask permission to read somebody’s mind. I know you can’t appreciate this with your history of limited social interactions, but people’s thoughts and their emotions must be kept private unless they explicitly tell you you can access them.”
She still didn’t say anything.
Which just made Park even angrier. “You don’t get it, do you? I know it was tempting to read Commander Jameson’s mind to try to figure out what he was planning, but it’s wrong. And as for reading the minds of all of the other crew who came aboard – it’s even more wrong. Maybe they… maybe they didn’t think great things about you,” Park said, momentarily losing his eloquence as he tried to pick his way around a sensitive topic, “but you can’t judge them for that. People’s minds change. You can’t just read them whenever you want to. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I comprehend what you’re saying. However, you do not understand. It is not an ability I can turn off. It was never designed to be turned off. It allows me to predict what my opponents will do next. It also allows me to glean valuable security information.”
Park stopped, losing all his steam in an instant. “You can’t turn it off?” His eyebrows peaked.
She shook her head.
“But surely… you have to actively listen for it?” he tried.
“I do not have to actively do anything. What you understand as my senses are not human and have little resemblance to how you experience the world. I receive constant combat data, and I cannot switch it off,” she said blankly. There wasn’t an ounce of emotion in her tone. Nothing.
Park didn’t just lose his steam, he lost a little of his calm as he tried to imagine what she was saying. Technically a human couldn’t turn off their senses, and if a sound or feeling or taste or something was strong enough, it got their attention. That’s how the brain worked. But what Vira was suggesting sounded like a constant, unstoppable assault of information.
“As for Commander Jameson, you are wrong. As for the rest of the crew, you are right,” she said.
“… You mean you read their minds?”
“I mean I experienced their thoughts. They were…” she trailed off. He saw it again. That flicker of social exclusion. Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it?
Park had to break eye contact before he got too drawn in by that thought. Because even Arrogant Park could appreciate that there was something cruel behind that. Here was Vira who’d lived vicariously through screens for 20 years, and this was the first time she was getting to interact with anyone who could potentially be a friend, not a minder, and they’d all already turned against her.
It was sad. But he couldn’t forget that it was also irrelevant. She wasn’t here to make friends. She was here to save the galaxy.
He opened his mouth to point that out, then he stopped. “Sorry, what do you mean about Commander Jameson?”
“He was actively filtering his thoughts through the entire conversation. Ever since I arrived on the transport, I was unable to hear what he was thinking.”
A part of Park wanted to point out that it sounded as if she’d been searching for his thoughts – and that his original point had been right. Surely she could just actively not listen? But then what she was saying struck him.
His eyebrows clunked right down low. “You didn’t get anything from him? Is that unusual?”
She shrugged. “To people who are truly capable of filtering and defending their mental states, it would not be impossible.”
He could have bridled at the word truly. It was clearly directed at him. But Park pushed that away for a far more worrying thought. “Why would Jameson be defending himself mentally all the time?”
She shrugged. “For any number of reasons.”
Park’s back began to itch.
“You’re worried he knows about me and you?” she said.
Park’s eyebrows clunked down. “I thought I was hiding that thought.”
“You were. It is simply logical. Though I think, at this stage, it is unfounded. Though I was incapable of reading his emotions and mental states, it’s obvious to assume that Jameson is paranoid. Not only does it fit his personality type and the interactions I observed with both myself and every other member of crew, it would also fit the reason he was brought on board. It would require a person who can focus on and predict unlikely catastrophic situations to be able to overhaul the security system aboard this ship,” she answered eloquently. Gone was the child, back was the computer.
Park brought up a hand and scratched at his suddenly itchy and sweaty chin. He didn’t like this one bit. Sure, what Vira was saying made sense – there was no reason to jump to conclusions yet. But Park’s gut told him one thing – he had to keep an eye on Jameson.
Great. That just meant there was more to do.
“You’re becoming overwhelmed,” Vira pointed out.
He sliced his gaze toward her. “Stop prying,” he said.
“I already told you, I can’t turn it off.”
He sighed, still scratching at his chin. “Then just don’t share it,” he tried.
Vira blinked and pressed her lips closed. She waited there, either expecting further instruction, or… what? He doubted she slept. Why would you have a perfect soldier that needed to go through basic, irritating, wasteful recuperation like sleeping?
Which made him wonder what exactly she did all the time. Did she… what, read books? Watch the rest of the Academy on those screens of hers and try to pretend she wasn’t a trapped bird in a cage?
Park caught himself thinking that, and he pushed it away.
She wasn’t a goddamn bird in a cage. To him, she was simply a secret he had to keep safe until this mission was done.
He took a step back, let his arms drop, and for the first time ticked his gaze around the room. “I’m assuming your room is the same as mine?”
“There is a multitude of differences,” she began.
“Basic size and layout,” he corrected.
She shrugged. “I guess the answer is yes,” she said, obviously unsure of her answer.
There was something about her uncertainty that made him arch one eyebrow and smile. It wasn’t charming, it was just amused. If you stripped Vira back of all her history, there was something cute about her forthrightness.
Fortunately, he kept that mental observation to himself. He also cleared his throat. “We need a plan to keep you away from Jameson.”
“I could transport out onto the hull,” she said.
He blanched. “
Absolutely not.”
“It was a joke,” she said, tone completely even.
He did it again, slightly arching one eyebrow, except this time the resultant smile was unsure. “You can joke?”
“Yes,” she said flatly like a child reciting all of the skills they’d learned at school.
Park wisely decided not to go down that path in case Vira got even more distracted. “Other than transporting onto the hull, we need a solid plan to ensure Jameson doesn’t have too much access to you.” As Park said that, the Admiral’s warning flashed brightly in his mind. Vira would have a tendency to take her orders literally. All concept of being a bird trapped in a cage aside, she was a soldier with incredible skills and responsibility who’d been deliberately kept on the sidelines for the past 20 years. You wouldn’t even need basic psychological skills to appreciate that she would be champing at the bit, ready to get out there and do something.
He needed to control that sense of urgency, and he needed to do it now. He also needed to find out exactly who Jameson was.
He took several steps away from her, rubbing his chin as he walked around the room.
“Why do you touch your chin or jaw when you’re thinking?” she asked, her tone back to that sweet innocent one that fooled you into thinking she couldn’t wrench your head off with a single flick of her finger.
He glanced at her. “Just a habit.”
“You should reduce obvious patterns of behavior – they make you an easier, more predictable target,” she noted, again sounding as if she were reciting a lesson.
Both his eyebrows peaked now. That specific move was either one he used when he was trying to charm the hell out of a girl, or when he was flat-out confused. It was pretty easy to predict which one it was now. “You haven’t really had many casual conversations with people, have you?”
She ticked her head to the side, that same look of confusion crumpling her brow. “Is this casual? I thought we were discussing a viable plan to ensure that Commander Jameson does not have too much access to me.”
Park gave out a light chuckle. “Okay, you’re right. It’s not casual. But the point is—” he began. He shook his head. There was no point.
“What’s the point?” she said, and there was a keen earnestness to her question, as if she genuinely wanted to learn.
That did it again, made Park imagine Vira sitting there on her couch, watching those screens, trying to vicariously live a real, ordinary life. Trying to imagine friends, trying to imagine something other than being a trapped super weapon that couldn’t be let out until her minders dictated it.
He pushed the thought away, but it was getting harder and harder to do.
When he’d accepted this mission, he’d known it would be hard. But now he was appreciating that there was a different dimension to it. One Arrogant Park wasn’t used to dealing with.
He swallowed.
“What’s the point?” she asked again, that same earnestness almost making her seem like a puppy that just wanted to know what the rules were.
His shoulders caved. “You have a tendency to say some pretty strange stuff,” he said. “Back in the transport when you pointed out that the crew behind us were wrong and you went on to state the exact time of arrival – yeah, that’s not something an ordinary officer would do.”
She reacted a little on the word ordinary, but she never lost that keen earnest quality of her gaze. She obviously wanted to learn.
Seriously? Was this babysitting job going to turn into a decorum class as well? Would he have to take Vira up to the bar and teach her how to make jokes, how to relax, how to relate to people?
Jesus Christ, he was the wrong man for this job.
Her expression changed.
Crap, he hadn’t guarded his thoughts.
She took a step backward, except there was a floating quality to it. She began to turn around. “I will leave you alone to think. I will come up with my own plans. Though I appreciate that you’re currently my senior officer and that the Admirals want me to do whatever you say, I ask that you take into consideration my own wishes before you decide what we will do in this situation.” With that, she turned around, and rather than walk toward the wall, she floated toward it.
“Hey. Stop. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean what I just thought. It’s just… this is not an ordinary mission. I’m a little out of my depth here.”
Still floating, she turned over her shoulder. “Then you shouldn’t have accepted the mission.”
She went to float right through the wall.
Park rushed up to her. Rather than try to grab her back, he simply put on a burst of speed, spun around her, and put himself between the wall and her.
She stopped several inches in front of his face. Though she was several feet smaller than him when she was standing, right now she was floating, and they were eye to eye.
She was well within his personal space, or was he well within hers? The point was, she didn’t do the decent thing and shift backward.
So he got to see it again – the only thing about Vira’s appearance that was truly out of the ordinary. Her piercing gaze.
Again, Park could have played this many ways. He could’ve slowly raised his hands, pretended to surrender, and looked earnestly into that piercing gaze.
He didn’t. He just shrugged. Letting his own gaze tick from side to side as he obviously assessed her face, he shrugged again. “This is how humans react to stress, Vira. I know it’s hard to understand, but it’s true.”
He made no effort to explain what he was saying, nor did he make a segue from the original topic.
That was the point. Though his experience of Vira was a little limited, it was enough to understand how she thought. And the only way to get her to stop – which she desperately needed to do now before she could leave this conversation angry – was to confuse her.
Sure enough, her brow crumpled and her head ticked to the side in that knowing move. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about us,” he said as he brought up a hand, made a fist, and tapped it on his chest several times. “Us soft-fleshed weak races,” he said, letting his voice vibrate down low on the word weak.
Her expression twitched. “What do you mean? Are you inferring that I am—”
Before she could finish accusing him of saying that she was soft fleshed and weak, he grinned.
He ensured it was slow, ensured it was charming, and knew it irritated the hell out of her. “Of course not. I’m talking about the rest of the crew on the Apollo. Everyone who’s not endowed with your incredible skills.”
She shook her head, looking mightily like a confused cat who didn’t understand which hole the mouse was about to dash from.
At least she didn’t shift right past him, or worse, transport out of the room.
She was still floating, though, and from the exact effortless way her body remained there several inches off the floor, she looked like an apparition.
She was very much real, though.
Park could have swallowed, could’ve shown any other sign of stress, but he reeled all of that in as he gave another affable shrug. “Do you think it’s easy for us, Vira?”
“What are you talking about?” she demanded again, her words quick and tight with confusion and stress.
“We live in a world that’s too big for us. In a galaxy that could rip us to shreds, tear us apart at the molecular level, plain irradiate us to death, or, you know,” he shrugged again, “allow the Force to completely consume all of our energy. It’s hard,” he tapped his chest again, “for weak biological forms like us to make our minds up. It’s hard to deal with the uncertainty. And you know what that means? It means we often have to change our minds.”
She shook her head once more, her hair trailing over her shoulders. No matter what happened, though, not a single strand of it fell from the tight ponytail she wore. Was it even hair? Or was it some kind of hologram that had been specifically designed to look like hair? Had
the Admirals even chosen that mousy brown, dull color? What did it really look like underneath? Park had seen images of other Spacers, and they were completely out of the ordinary.
Before he could allow his mind to become fully distracted by these thoughts, he gritted his teeth and continued, knowing the only way to win this verbal battle was head-on. “We change our minds, plain and simple. Because we have to.”
She jerked her head to the side, now letting it rest on a judgmental angle as she narrowed her eyes. “If this is you trying to distract me, get out of my way.”
“I’m not trying to distract you, Vira – I’m trying to teach you. That’s what you want, isn’t it? You want to know how to socialize, how to interact with others, how to make friends,” he added in a guarded tone.
His tone may have been guarded, but her resultant expression was anything but. He watched as her cheeks stiffened, as her eyes darted wide only to half close and narrow in distrust. “If you think—” she began.
“Doesn’t really matter what I think. At least not now. I’m getting to know you, Vira, trying to figure out how I fit in, and, more than anything, how I can accomplish the mission given to me by the Admirals.”
“I heard your thoughts, Park,” she said with an angry expression. “You are ruing the fact you decided to go on this mission. You are becoming overwhelmed. You have no idea—”
He put his hands up and spread the fingers wide, but his joints were stiff, his skin pale, and this was not a move of surrender. “You keep talking over the top of me. Don’t you want to find out what I have to say?”
“I want you to get out of my way so I can return to Earth,” she said flatly.
Park could have snorted. The Apollo had already left space dock. Short of stopping the ship, grabbing one of the cruisers in the hangar bay, and somehow convincing the Captain that she could leave—
She tilted her head all the way to the other side. “I would simply transport there. Not in one go. But it’s irrelevant. I’m perfectly functional in zero gravity as I am perfectly functional in zero Kelvin environments,” she said simply.
Vira Episode One Page 7