New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

He’d been rocking for over an hour now.

Sitting in the middle of the room, Iago had removed most of the furniture, getting rid of some, and placing others in storage.  A lot of things had been knocked around in all the actions the ship had seen – while normally such things were secured prior to going into action, he . . .

He’d forgotten.

It was a good excuse, though, to get rid of it all.

He didn’t need it – didn’t need the objects he felt sure were full of scanners and bugs.

He’d found one, in the new chair that Zeela Cann had had brought to him recently, when he’d broken the arm of the old one.

Broken, a part of his mind asked.  Or had they set it up to fail to justify putting the spying device in his room?

He had torn the new chair apart until he’d found it.  He’d known it would be there.  It was cleverly disguised as a smartchip, but he knew the tell-tale signs of it being more.  The angles on the circuitboard were a little too curved, some of the colors not quite the standard shade of green.  This was top-level equipment, disguised incredibly well as something mundane.

He was sure of it.

Clutching it in his hand, so hard that the edges cut him, he ignored the pain, and rocked more.

Why had everyone he trusted turned on him?  The Captain, Zeela, even Pirra.  They had treated him like an outsider – spied on him, lied to him.

It had to be because of what he’d seen.

Sometimes he wondered if any of it was actually real.  Perhaps they’d never even gone into combat.  Perhaps in the night they had taken him and hooked him into a system that merely tricked his mind into thinking he was experiencing these events.

For all he knew they weren’t even in the Mopu system.

Elliot was out doing volunteer work helping to repair part of the irrigation system in the garden.  Easy work, it would be good for him.  Even if it wasn’t real, it would help allay their suspicion and give the boy something to focus on.

He’d always kept a few Blank Boxes around, for security reasons.  Just turn them on, they jammed nearly all recording or spying equipment in a small, adjustable radius.  The smart system would provide enough false data to not arouse suspicion.

Of course, by even using it, if they were paying serious attention, they would see through it.  He’d know for sure, if they came for him when he put it on.

An even better reason to get Elliot out.

He hardly wanted his son here if they came in to take him away . . . to where, he couldn’t even fathom.  But if they had lied to him this much, manipulated, used him . . . then they might do anything.  There might be a secret deck . . .

No, there couldn’t be a secret deck, he scolded himself.  He knew the Craton inside and out!

Unless . . . unless he’d never known it?

He was too afraid to contemplate that to its conclusion.

A sound chimed on his door, and his heart nearly stopped.

But the door didn’t open, and no one even requested entry.

For a moment, he waited, for the door to be forced open and for a Response team to rush in.  To think it could even be Pirra leading them, to arrest him . . .

All for what he’d seen.

Because they were after that knowledge, weren’t they?  They didn’t know what harm it could do, did do, had done to him.  They would only want to know it so they could know the thing, to know all things.  Catalogue them, put them in a computer record and then lock it away.  Along with him.

Just not Elliot . . .

Pirra had always loved him like family.  His only hope remained that, if they had to take him, she might be kind to his son.

Because right now they had no way out.

The door, he realized, had not been forced.

He wanted to look out with the camera, but his own Blank Box was preventing that.

Rising, he went to the door, listening through it for the tell-tale sound of armed officers moving, shuffling, waiting.  But he heard nothing.

Opening the door cautiously, he saw no one.

But on the floor near his door was a small plastic card.

Taking it, he saw it was folded in half.  He stepped back inside, moving away from the door in case they still blasted it open.

Then he opened the card.  In the dim light he preferred anymore, it was hard to read, but he could still make it out.

What you have seen is a gift, it said.  I can help you.

Await further contact.

His heart was beating again, his pulse pounding.

This could be a trap, he thought.  But no . . .  No, it wasn’t.

There was an image below it.  It was a cube, the three-dimensional object rendered in 2D with lines . . . but there was an extra set of lines, that connected to nothing, heading off into . . .

Into a space beyond the spaces they knew.  Beyond the dimensional space that all of humanity before him had ever been limited to . . .

Iago Caraval, a man who believed himself lost, realized that he was not alone.

Someone else knew.

Someone else was on his side.

Tears streaked down his cheeks and he slid to the floor, crying and laughing both.

---

< Ep 6 Part 59 | Ep 6 Part 61 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

The event had ended hours ago, and afterwards Apollonia had returned to her room and fallen asleep almost immediately.  She hadn’t felt right since . . .  Well, she wasn’t sure what happened after she had passed out in the armory.  No one had told her how she had been saved, what had happened to the Hev that had blown in the door.  Maybe some kind of automated defense system?  Though she’d heard that the Hev had somehow blanked the computers in the area, killing such defenses.

She knew something had happened.  But she did not want to examine it deeper.  It did not sit well with her to probe into such things, even when it affected her directly.  She’d spent her whole life in ignorance, and sometimes – sometimes – she thought it was better for some things to remain unknown.

It hadn’t felt like she’d been asleep long when the urgent message woke her.

It was only a voice; Jaya.

“Apollonia Nor, report to my office in thirty minutes.”

Her stomach flipped, and she wasn’t sure if she could handle food.

She really wanted to just go back to sleep, ignore the call.  She would have at another time in her life, but now . . .

She didn’t want to betray the trust of some people.  Not again.

Dragging herself up, she considered a stim, but those never sat right with her, and she ended up feeling horrible a few hours afterwards.

Instead she drank a quick cup of tea, dressed in the best clothes she had – a slightly more formal jumpsuit with the ship’s name and an SU logo on it.  It felt appropriate.

Making her way to the office, she remembered that her system was still blanked out, and while it could do basic functions like guide her, it had lost all of her personal data.

Looking through it, she felt a pang as she realized that even meant the Abmon language pack she’d gotten on her return trip to the Craton after visiting Earth . . .

She didn’t actually need it anymore.  Squats on Sand had been the only one of his kind aboard, and they might not even get another Abmon, given what had happened to him.

But she downloaded it again anyway.

Once she was at Jaya’s door, she stopped and adjusted her outfit, trying to look a little presentable.  Turning her tablet screen to mirror mode, she saw that she was . . . well, frumpy.  As usual.

She went in.

Jaya was sitting at her desk, as she so often was, and only glanced up as Apollonia entered.

“Sit,” the woman said, her eyes already back on her work.

Doing so, Apollonia realized with a start that they weren’t alone.  Another woman was in the room, who Apollonia knew was another of the command officers, yet she found that she couldn’t remember her name.

The woman waited patiently, leaned against the wall in a way that still somehow seemed formal.

“I believe you two have met,” Jaya said finally, looking up.

“Uh, yes,” Apollonia said.  She had been introduced to them all, she just had a terrible memory.

Kai, she thought.  That might have been her name.

“I’m Kai Yong Fan,” the woman said.  “It has been awhile, Ms. Nor.”

“Ah, right.  Thank you.”

Jaya glanced at Kai.

“You understand why we are here, I imagine.”

“I have a pretty good idea,” Apollonia said.  Her fear was growing stronger, along with her guilt.

“Dereliction of duty is a charge that we take most seriously,” Jaya said.  “And I must say – I am sorry.”

Apollonia felt like her chair had dropped away.  “What?”

“I failed you.  I should not have let you into such deep waters alone,” Jaya continued.  “It was my self-appointed task of training you, preparing you for your duties.  And I did not do that sufficiently.”

Jaya sighed, looking down again.  “Therefore, I cannot entirely blame you for your fear.”

Kai was still saying nothing, her face impassive, and Apollonia sincerely wondered what her part in this was going to be.  If Jaya was being good cop, did that mean that Kai would be the bad?

“You understand that it does not entirely excuse you for your actions,” Jaya continued.  “You did betray the trust of your comrades.”

“They were probably better off without me, to be honest,” Apollonia said, mumbling slightly.

She could tell that was the wrong thing to say.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly.  “I know that’s not the point.  It’s just my . . . self-loathing, I guess.”

“I know you stated that you did not feel very useful, given your lack of augmentations,” Kai said.  “But this is not the point.  In nearly all circumstances we have assistance with heavy work.  It is the point of having the human element, the human mind judging a situation and devising what is right according to what matters to us that is important.  And a group effort is what makes it strong.  This is how you failed your Volunteer unit.”

Jaya spoke.  “This is correct.  Ultimately, you did not wrong us – but your comrades.”

“Will I . . . have a chance to apologize to them?” she asked.

“If you feel it necessary, of course,” Kai said.

She actually seemed like nicer cop.  Or at least neutral cop.  Was that a thing?

“Now, Apollonia,” Jaya continued.  “Would you like to continue to be a member of the Volunteers?”

Her stomach squirmed more.  The bold part of her, that wanted to become everything she could and more, wanted to jump at that opportunity.

But maybe she wasn’t ready?  She wasn’t trying to second-guess herself into inaction, but get a realistic grip on what she could actually do.

“I’d like to help people,” she said finally.  “I’d like to help.  To do my part, I guess.”

“You guess?” Jaya asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I mean, I guess that’s how to phrase it.  I mean what I say!  But . . . I’m not sure if I’m worthy of being in the Volunteers right now.”

It was Kai’s turn to look surprised.  Apollonia took that badly until the woman spoke.

“That is a good insight into yourself,” she said.  “Many Volunteers who fail either give up entirely on such work, or else continue to have a false idea of their own abilities.”

“Oh.  So that’s good?  What I said, I mean.”

“It is,” Jaya answered.  “And frankly, I would like to see you back in the Volunteers – eventually.  But Commander Kai and I have been speaking and we both believe that you need more mentoring before it would be good for you to do that.”

More education?  Oh, it just never seemed to end.

“All right,” she said instead.

“Jaya has been kind enough to aid you,” Kai said.  “But there are other resources, and you know she is quite busy.”

“Yeah,” Apollonia agreed.  So perhaps Jaya was just washing her hands of her . . .

But looking at the woman, she didn’t see loathing or hate on her face.  She didn’t see judgment or condemnation.

No, a part of her realized.  Jaya wasn’t abandoning her.  She was doing her best – and sometimes that meant handing a task over to someone else.

“Commander Yaepanaya and I will both provide several tutors for you,” Kai said.  “You will meet with them in lieu of meeting with Jaya for your preparations to take the officer candidacy test.  Is this acceptable to you?”

“What?  Oh, yes!  Absolutely.”  Apollonia swallowed hard.  “But do I get a . . . black mark on my record for my failure?”

“It is noted in your record,” Jaya said plainly.  “Because we do need to know what has been done in the past.  But as for it reflecting upon you – such things can change based on your future performance.”

“Okay,” Apollonia said.  Of all the ‘chewing outs’ she’d had, this was not like any other.

Jaya stood, and offered her hand.  “Thank you, Ms. Nor.”

Standing up, Apollonia was not sure why Jaya was offering her hand.  “I think I should be thanking you.”

Jaya smiled thinly.  “We will see each other again, but not as regularly.  I look forward to the day when you become an officer.”

Oh.  So it was . . . goodbye.

Apollonia felt a fresh sorrow flood through her, and she shook the woman’s hand more vigorously.  “Yeah . . . I look forward to that, too.”

---

< Ep 6 Part 58 | Ep 6 Part 60 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

He’d heard humans sometimes say that the severely injured looked smaller, and he mused with no mirth that it was true in Logus’s case.

That the man had survived this long was one of those things that was difficult to explain.  That human concept of will overcoming the impossible was one he had never accepted, instead believing that numerous small factors combined to inject more unpredictability into outcomes.

He felt shaken in this belief, because Arn Logus should not be alive now.

His right arm was gone, torn off by the armor-piercing rounds that had penetrated the door of the bunker.  Beyond that, his entire shoulder was too damaged to restore, along with the lung on that side of his body, and a portion of his lower mandible, taken off near the joint.

Humanity were so frail, he thought.  And yet they trekked out into the stars anyway, aware on at least some level of the danger that faced them.

Reality was so often cruel to biological life . . .

Yet they still went out.

Perhaps one day, he’d understand why they so desperately fought for such things.

“Hello, friend,” he said, turning his voice cheery, though he did not feel it, as he began to replace some of the bandages.  A number of drones aided him.

The evidence suggested Logus was not aware, but sometimes the subconscious understood things in its own way.  A primitive, yet highly powerful system of the human mind.

So he would talk to his friend, and perhaps in some way it would help.

“After preliminary repairs are done, we will be heading to Gohhi Station.  Isn’t that exciting?  I know you have always wished to visit the place.  So rare to find a human system that is not in the Sapient Union and is friendly!  Or, well, friendly enough.  I have heard stories from there . . .”

Perhaps that was not wise to talk about right now, he decided.

“. . . but I’ll tell you those another time.  The doctors there have far more equipment than I do – an entire cloning lab!  It will not be long before they are fusing a fresh arm and shoulder and . . . lung . . .”

He felt parts of his mind at war with itself.  Different emotional cores were experiencing surges of feelings that were creating conflicting desires, and it was overwhelming.

He should keep talking.

He should give his friend silence.

He could not bear to say more words.

He was a coward for not saying them.

Finishing his work in silence, he dismissed the drones, and restructured his schedule.

Words still did not come, but he would stay here for awhile.

---

< Ep 6 Part 57 | Ep 6 Part 59 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Pirra looked at the caskets of the people she’d known.  Jack Lal and Abioye Suarez, both good and loyal officers, now resting cold among many others.

“I am sorry,” she said.  “But your duty has ended.  Rest now with the heroes and legends of our memory.”

The old Dessei parting for the dead felt a little hollow to her when said it out loud, perhaps even trite.  But she still was glad to have said it.

Standing there for a few moments longer, taking the time to try and remember the good moments with her comrades, she barely noticed as Alexander came up behind her.

“Are you all right?” he asked gently.

She stood up straighter.  “I’m fine,” she said automatically.

Alexander’s eyebrow rose quizzically, that peculiar human gesture with the . . . well, she’d called them something along the lines of ‘tiny face crests’ for a long time.  She had learned what the gesture meant, at least.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” he told her, his tone still gentle.

“I know,” she said.  “But I am okay.  At least, I have to tell myself that I am.”

“You can’t become an island, Pirra-“

“I am not an island,” she replied, fighting down annoyance.  That had a much different meaning to her people than humankind, and she hated it when he misused the phrase.  To suggest it meant she was isolating herself?  All her people’s nations were islands!  Islands were a community!

“I just mean,” he continued doggedly, “that you can’t suppress how you feel.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her crest going down.  It had risen unbidden in anger.  Her eyes closed and she kept them that way.

“I know what you mean.  And I appreciate it.  This is something I will work through – that I will have to work through.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him.  “I have to do it, because people are depending on me – I could be needed at any moment, even now.  But I have to do it my way, and my way is not crying on anyone’s shoulder.”

Alexander listened to her, considering her words.  “All right,” he said finally.  “I understand that.  I just . . . I don’t want you to feel like you don’t have support if you need it.”

She felt the affection and love she held for him rising, and put her arms around him, pressing her head to his.  “I know I have that,” she said to him.  “You truly are the best, and I love-“

Someone cleared their throat.  It was not a human throat.

Raising her head, she saw, standing not three meters away, a regally dressed Dessei.  His coloration was much like hers, and he was her height, with eyes the same red as her own.

“Greetings, Councilor Tallei,” she said formally.

Tallei’s crest and face did not budge in the slightest.  “Am I interrupting?” he asked in a manner worthy of high inner circles, his crest moving just the right shade to suggest his thoughtfulness, but not overplay it.

He did, of course, know that he was interrupting.

“Of course not,” she said, equally as formally, repeating in just the same fashion the nearly-courtly demeanor.

Alexander, she knew, did not quite understand the significance.  But he could tell the change in her body language, the formality of her movements.

“I am going to go talk to Mina,” he said.  “I know she’s grieving quite hard over Jack . . .”

“Thank you,” she told him.  “Would you give her my condolences, too?  I will join you as soon as I can – after I am done talking to the councilor.”

Alexander hesitated.  Something about the way she’d said the title was . . . if not informal, it was nearly rude.

“Of course,” he said, taking it in stride.

She loved that he understood when he needed to just play along.

After he was out of earshot, she spoke again, dropping entirely her polite language.

“It’s nice to see you again, Brother,” she said.

“You as well, Sister,” Tallei replied.  Amusement crept into him.  “I am glad I was in time to preserve your life.”

“You just came running because of Mother,” she retorted.

He showed offense.  “You know that I do care about your life,” he replied.

“Yes, but you could only have come if She had ordered it,” Pirra shot back.  “Is this why we’re alive right now?  Mother’s protectiveness?”

“I would think you would be more grateful,” Tallei replied.  “Happy that your ship and the majority of your comrades and . . . significant other . . . are all alive.  Or am I incorrect in assuming that?”

“You are not,” she said, annoyance growing.  “But I do wonder what Mother has asked you to pass onto me.”

Tallei was amused, his crest fluttering in a way that was almost derisive.  “You’re always so defensive, Sister.  We only had what was best for you in mind, as always.”

“I’m sure,” she replied, but vaguely enough that it was not overtly rude.

His crest dipped twice rapidly, a signal that someone was approaching.  She turned, and saw Kessissiin coming over.  He offered a very formal and polite crest droop, perfectly in line with addressing an honored councilor.

“May I come and greet you?” he asked.

“Of course,” Tallei replied.  “You need not be so formal, friend.”

Friend?  The Tallei she knew would not have said that to someone of Kessissiin’s island and rank, not when he was in a formal situation.

Unless . . .  They already knew each other.

She found herself floored by that realization.  What it might mean.

Kessissiin had come over, chatting politely – with proper deference – to Tallei, who continued to insist he need not be so formal, while of course Kessissiin absolutely did have to continue being so formal.

“And you serve under my Sister, is that not right.” Tallei commented, it clearly being a statement of fact despite being phrased as a question.

“Of course, and a glorious leader she is,” Kessissiin replied.  “Though I do not . . . serve under her directly.”

“No?  Sister, what does my friend Kessissiin do in Response?” Tallei asked.

“He, uh, he’s in the Volunteer Response Corp,” she said.

“That’s it?”  Tallei’s crest flattened.  “But from what I understand, he fought with great gallantry in the last battle!”

“Yes,” she agreed, not looking at Kessissiin as she said it.  “His unit acquired arms against orders and defended part of the ship.  While he and . . . the unit’s commander exalted themselves, the rest of their unit were not of their skill and perished in the battle.”

Which was, of course, why they were not supposed to be in combat.

“Oh dear,” Tallei said.  “How unfortunate.  Ah, yes, surely some of the heroic dead we are giving our gratitude to tonight.  Please forgive my terrible manners.”  He paused.  “. . . but surely you will now be placing my friend Kessissiin’s talents where they will be most fitting?  He has proved his personal skill greatly.  It would be . . . a borderline insult to not bring him into your unit – the most prestigious unit.”

Pirra could only founder as to why Tallei was picking this direction to come at her from.  She could not understand it.  Unless Kessissiin was a spy . . . ?  But no, part of her service on the human ship involved all data of her actions being forwarded to her people.  There was hardly anything they could learn from Kessissiin that they could not from that data.

Perhaps he was to protect her . . . ?  The thought rankled her.

“I will, of course, take it under advisement, but I have not yet had time to deal with personnel issues.”

“Ah.  A pity.  Well, come friend Kessissiin.  Accompany me, would you?”

“I would be honored,” the other Dessei said, again lowering his crest.

“Oh, I hope you have time to attend to those personnel issues soon, Sister,” Tallei said to her in parting.

---

< Ep 6 Part 56 | Ep 6 Part 58 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

The space was normally the largest landing deck on the Craton, but it had been quickly turned into a somber ceremonial suite.

Several hundred of the Craton’s crew and civilians stood, watching the thirty-four caskets – one more than earlier, with Midshipman Waskohska succumbing to her wounds only a few hours before – that were set near the airlock.  It and that entire wall had been made into a screen, showing the stars beyond.

Brooks stood elevated, and behind him stood some dignitaries who had come to help honor the dead.  N’Keeea, Siilon, Tallei, their staffs, and even a representative from Supreme General K’Tekek, who had hurried from the inner system.  Along with most of the command crew of the Craton herself.

Brooks looked at the caskets, committing their names to memory.  He had plenty of ways to remind himself of those who had died under his command, but he always wanted to do his best to remember them himself.

He felt grateful that he had not yet reached the point where he could not remember all the names.

Turning slowly, he looked solemnly across the crew waiting.

Each of them had known the deceased closely.  Co-workers, friends, or more – each of them held a frame with an image of the dead.

As he looked over them, he saw, standing alone with He That Squats on Yellow Sand’s image, was Apollonia.

He felt his throat threaten to tighten on him, but he pressed on.

“We remember today those who have fallen in the line of duty,” he said.  “Family, partners . . . friends.  Good souls who gave their last drop of devotion to help others.  Not simply their crew, but billions of lives – of beings they had never met.  Such an act is not easy.  It would have been simple for us all to look away, to deem the risk and cost too much.  But we did not, and thousands stepped forward, waiting to pay that cost with their lives.”

He turned sharply, saluting the caskets.

“Read the roll of honor,” he said.

Urle stepped up.

“Len Ackerman!”

The assembled crew snapped to attention at the name, giving their final salute to the fallen man.

“Alize Waskohska.

“Jack Lal.

“He That Squats on Yellow Sand.”

The names continued.  All thirty-four of them.  For each, a final salute.

Urle stepped back, and Brooks turned fully to gaze out at the stars.

In some eras, a body would be given to the sea, or even the void.  In this day, they would go back to their families and peoples.

But a missile was launched for each of them.  Streaking out, trailing a burning light that ended in a burst of color.  Each explosion staggered out just after the last to create a line that receded ever further.

Brooks saluted now as well.

“We thank you all.”

---

The event formally ended, but all began to mingle.

Brooks let others speak among themselves, not wishing to butt into any of their private grief.  He simply stood in his own.

He could make no claim on the level of grief the people who knew and loved or admired or respected the dead felt, but a captain’s grief was still uniquely his.  To say he had failed them had a measure of truth, but sometimes even when everything was done properly people died.

It didn’t make it easier, and hovering behind it all was a consideration of his own actions.  Had he done all he could?

The Maig may have fired the weapons, but it may have been his hand that put them there.

Such contemplation was best saved for later, when he was alone.  When he should be sleeping, a part of him noted wryly.

He looked around, to see if anyone needed someone to speak to, and saw Apollonia again.

He’d seen the girl looking miserable and alone quite often, but her reason for looking that way now was quite clear.

He moved towards her, noting as he came closer the increasing feel of uneasiness.  It was easy to learn to ignore it when all was well, but when things became harder, it oppressed more.

He fought it back.

“Apollonia,” he said softly.

She looked up at him, clutching the image of Squats on Sand.

“He didn’t have any family here,” she said quickly.  “He deserved someone to be here for him.”

Brooks nodded.  “I imagine he would have been glad to see you standing for him.  From what I understand, you two had become fast friends.”

“I seem to have a much easier time relating to aliens,” Apollonia said, her eyes unfocused.

“It’s not as uncommon as you might think,” Brooks told her gently.  “And it says nothing but good things about you.  To look at beings with different evolutionary histories, that look far different from us, even monstrous in our eyes – be able to accept them with reverence, brotherhood and trust is perhaps the greatest thing we can hope to achieve as a species.”

Apollonia stared at him, caught off-guard.  “That’s . . . really lovely.  Did you just . . . ?”

“No,” Brooks replied, looking a little sheepish.  “I’m paraphrasing Carl Sagan.”

“I don’t even know who that is,” Apollonia said, a laugh coming out, that turned quickly to tears.

Brooks hugged her.

“He didn’t deserve to die,” she said quietly.

“Rarely do they,” Brooks replied in a soft tone.

Apollonia said nothing for a long time, and with open expressions of sorrow, or joy, or solemn remembrance happening around them in a thousand different microcosms of people’s experiences, he knew that they did not stand out in the slightest.

“You know I failed, right?” Apollonia finally said, her voice still quiet.

“I know what happened,” he told her, his voice gentle.  “I’m sorry that . . .  I wanted to respect your right to choose your path, but perhaps . . . this was too soon.”

Part of her wanted to take his words as patronizing so that she might be annoyed, but it had been too much, too soon.  She’d wanted to help, and instead become a greater burden.

“I don’t want to fail again,” she said, pulling away from him and wiping her face.  The thought of how undignified she must look came to mind, but . . . seeing other people around them, equally or even more grief-stricken, reminded her that there was no shame in the emotion right now.

“I won’t impede you in whatever you choose to do,” Brooks said.  “But I am always willing to give advice if you want it.”

“And what would your advice be right now?” she asked, looking past him.  In the distance, she saw Jaya.  Who hadn’t spoken to her since the battle had ended.  Yet she had a feeling . . .

“I think you should start smaller,” Brooks told her.  “Continue your studies.  You can still be involved in groups and matters on the ship to help you become who you want to be.  They may seem petty or small right now, but if you learn from them then they will be stepping stones towards your goals.”

“That’s some good advice,” she admitted.  “You know, though . . .  I kind of wonder if Jaya is going to kill me.”

The woman had caught her eye, and to say she looked angry was an understatement.

“Jaya?  She may be upset about many things,” Brooks said.  She took it somewhat as an evasion.

“Well, she’s upset at me,” Apollonia replied.

“She can be that way.  She may very well chew you out to some degree.  But she won’t leave you out in the cold, either, when she’s done, unless that’s what you need.  And on top of that, she quite likes you.”

Apollonia blinked.  “She likes me?”

“Yes, I think she considers you a friend,” Brooks said.  Perhaps he shouldn’t have said that, but it was out now.

“She isn’t a very social person,” he continued, “and while it is normal for her to help you, I think she’s gone out of her way a lot.”

That just made her feel worse . . .  She’d not just disappointed a mentor, but a friend.

It must have shown, as Brooks added; “My point is that she won’t hold onto her anger with you.”

She nodded.  “Well, thank you Captain.  I think that I’ll go mingle with some other people,” she said.

“Jaya is coming over here, isn’t she?” Brooks asked.

“I’m actually quite close,” Jaya said from behind him.

He turned.  “Commander,” he said formally.

“No need to be so formal right now, Ian,” Jaya replied coolly.  She looked at Apollonia.  “You go and mingle.  We will talk later, and as the Captain says . . . I will absolutely chew you out.”

Apollonia swallowed.  “Yes, ma’am.”

As she walked away, she heard Jaya round on Brooks.  “Did you truly say I am not a social person?”

“That is literally how you describe yourself,” Brooks replied.

But there wasn’t any real anger in either of them, she thought, and she felt oddly buoyed as she walked away.

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