Derelict

[l3wt]

11th July 822 – Interplanetary Space, Coronado

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It was late “afternoon” in the Galley’s artificial day-night cycle. James had another turn on the bridge, and he was actually alone for the moment. He’d stopped messing with the ship’s weapons systems since the strange news yesterday, and was currently trying to put real-world concerns out of his head with a bit of light reading. Figuring Sarah would mostly have tech-manuals for solid paper literature, he’d borrowed one of Leslie’s paperbacks which he now read while occasionally glancing up at the consoles in front of him, just to ascertain nothing was wrong.

Immersed as he was, he paid little mind to soft footfalls as they carefully and gingerly made their way around him. Leslie took care in depositing herself into a chair and strapping herself in. Any hasty move at this speed could be fatal, after all. She spent a moment looking at the console, and then at Arland.

“You seem relaxed,” She said.

James looked up. He actually was relaxed, settled pretty snugly into his seat with the assistance of the higher than normal gravity. The corner of his mouth quirked upward at Leslie’s comment. “Yeah,” he began. “Reading’s nice like that. All I’m missing right now is a cup of tea, really, then I’d be about ready for a nap.” He motioned with the paperback. “Thanks for lending me some of these, by the way.”

Leslie shrugged, smiling. “You’re welcome to them. Sarah doesn’t use those, says it’s too old-tech for her liking. Her loss, right?”

“Yeah. I never liked reading off monitors, strains my eyes a little too much. I suppose an engineer would be used to that, though.” He said, idly turning a page. “Say… How do you know Sarah, anyway? I gather she’s a recent hire, but other than that, I don’t know a whole lot about her.”

Leslie’s smile turned predatory. “And why do you ask, James?”

James briefly wondered exactly where Leslie’s mind was going with that question, the way she spoke it. A number of possibilities came back, most of them vaguely inappropriate. Or explicitly, for that matter. Maybe she wouldn’t be entirely wrong about a few of them, either, but what stuck was how the hell Sarah’d recognized a nerve agent on sight like that. He put on his best innocent expression, decided to test the water. “Why, I’m going to be living with you two for some time, aren’t I? Just trying to get a better read on my companions.”

Leslie wiggled her fingers at him. “You can mark us both as low-threat, threat analyser.” She paused. “Frankly, She’s not very open about her past. And I’m fine with it. Everyone likes to keep their secrets, right?”

James shrugged, raised one arm (and the paperback) in front of him in mock surrender. “Of course. And relax, I’m not LSF, come to take away your freedoms and snoop in your pasts on shady government business. I’m snooping entirely out of idle curiosity, if that makes you feel better.” There was a distinctly libertonian twang to the way he spoke the word “freedoms”.

Leslie laughed at that. “‘Ello guv’nah, the krauts may be invadin’ but they’ll never take my FREEDOM!” She shrugged. “That’s the best Texan I can do, sorry. That being said, I’m pretty sure she’s been involved in some...less than legal business in the past. Mostly circumstantial evidence pointing towards that.”

James chuckled in turn, nodded. “I get that. I just get the feeling she’s seen the… rougher spots of the Sector at some point, which seems at odds with her behavior and idealism at times. I guess I just enjoy a good mystery,” he said, and waggled the paperback in his hand again. “Then again, could be I’m just a bloody idiot with a paranoid streak.”

“You’re awfully self-aware, James.” Leslie’s tone was teasing. “But yeah, I get what you mean. Then again, she’s young. Sometimes young people do stupid sh-t.” She glanced at James more seriously. “And if she shares those stories, it should be on her terms. Best you can do is help her along.” She smirked at a sudden thought. “Maybe take her out to dinner or something.”

“Oh, that’ll go over great, I just know it,” he laughed. He shifted his tone to nasal, slightly higher-pitched mockery of himself. “Hey, Sarah, how’s about we go out for some synthpaste and you can tell me all about your secret past?”

Leslie reached over and smacked Arland in the head. “Quit pretending to be a dumbass. She’ll appreciate it, trust me. And maybe she’ll tell you that time she went drinking with a stranger and returned with a massive hangover, not telling me what she’d been up to.” She smiled. “I’m sure you’re curious.”

He pointed a mildly accusatory finger at her. “See, now there’s the sort of secret I would not trust you with further than I could throw you.”

“You could probably throw me a fair distance,” She idly remarked. “And just for that, you now owe me a dinner as well.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And what is the Sword of Damocles hanging over me should I not?”

Leslie rubbed her chin. “Good question. Maybe I’ll just heavily imply that you spend a lot of time in Lisa’s spacement.”

He brought a hand over his heart, dramatically. “Oh, you wound me. I’ll have you know my spacement time has been entirely platonic.”

“Oh, I know. She doesn’t, though.” Leslie was now amused. “You’re treading a fine line here, James Arland. A two month trip with only two women for company, and if you annoy any one of them...that might make this trip a mission worse than any you have faced.” She pointed a finger imperiously at him. “And that’s why you owe me dinner.”

He rolled his eyes, none too subtly. “Fine, what would you like?”

“I thought you’d never ask. Take me to the Hilton on Manhattan. I like feeling fancy.” Leslie’s tone was carefully flat.

James scoffed. “Yeah, it’ll just be you, me, five thousand credits I would rather spend on a brand new gun, and a five month reservation time. Trust me, we’d try to kill each other long before we’d ever get that lined up and ready. How about something slightly less preposterous?”

Leslie’s smile was sad. “I’ll let you figure it out.” She glanced at him. “And someday you’ll need to find something that’s worth more to you than your guns. Something worth what you are doing.”

James was quiet for some time. He hadn’t turned a page in several minutes, now. “That someone…” he began. “...will have to be a better person than me.”

“Bullsh-t. You’re a good person, you just need to admit it.” Leslie opened her mouth to continue, but her console suddenly flashed. “Huh, better check that out.” She began unstrapping from her chair. “Think about it, James,” She said as a parting remark, walking carefully off the bridge.

James was left with his thoughts. “Good person or no,” he muttered to himself. “Whatever happens there won’t be a rose garden.” He tried to focus on his book. Why the hell was he reading a romantic comedy, anyway?