Baby Steps
Finally got Nika to leave the house. Thanks, Terri!--Maer.
The sound of the piano in the parlor has become a familiar one. Nika tends to wait until everyone has left for morning chores. Or at least, Nala allows her to believe that. She leaves the house long enough for her twin to shuffle out of the bedroom, leaves a plate for her twin on the counter with breakfast, and watches from the porch to give Nika privacy. Only then does the (ex-?)pilot shuffle through the house to the front room and close the door, and only then does Nala re-enter the house to take care of her indoor chores. To the haunting sounds of chords of piano music. She doesn't know how to help her sister, and it's all she can do just to try to get her to eat. They're falling into a pattern of sorts, and it's working... for now. Though Nika has become aware that Nala's not straying far from the house. Ever.
The parlor door is closed and with her long hair held by nothing more than an old ribbon at the nape of her neck, wearing an old day dress of Nala's, Nika presents an intriguing picture of what could have been. Her hands move across the keys as she plays, seeking the correct notes. Over and over and over again for some passages, trying to get it right without sheet music to call on. Sometimes she gets enraged. There have been days where the sounds coming from the parlor are discordant banging as she slams the keys. At this moment, however, she seems calm and as if she's progressing on the piece a little bit.
Friday, 14 Nov 2521
Johannsen/Earhart Ranch
0830hrs, local time
I'd overslept, thanks to my activities earlier. I woke to sunlight on my face and as I'd had on Angel at the beginning of the year, I woke with the expectation to find someone next to me. Unlike Angel, I would not have been mistaken. Joshua and I had been given one of the two bedrooms at the guest house. Nothing fancy, as befitted a working ranch. Just a square cottage with a large multipurpose room spanning the front with an open kitchenette to one side and two bedrooms. It was the bedroom arrangement I appreciated the most. They were at the back of the house with windows on two walls, a wide bed, with a stand on one side of it and a wardrobe on the other. It was short on fancy but long on comfort. Waking up with Joshua sleeping beside me, I was pretty comfortable indeed.
Or I would have had I not overslept. Still muzzy, I slid my hand across the sheets for him and found them empty and cold. I sat up and as I’d had that rainy night in February I waited for my mind to reveal the trick … and when nothing happened I breathed easier and checked my watch: 0830.
“Shit, I’m late!”
Throwing back the covers netted me a stab from my gut, my injuries reminding me to slow down and so I did. Instead of taking 10 seconds to shove into my boots and zip into my coveralls, I took nearly a minute. Exiting the bedroom I found Joshua had left coffee on the back burner to keep warm for me. I poured myself a cup and noticed my tool bag on the kitchenette table with a note.
Take it slow, it said in his handwriting. He knew I had plans to maintenance the windmill today, checking the work I’d done two years ago. There was an egg sandwich next to my tool bag with another note from Joshua. Eat this, it said. No exceptions. Rolling my eyes, I drained my cup in one go, wrapped the sandwich in my bandanna to take with me, and hauling my tool bag over my shoulder, I hit the guest house porch with a clatter. It had snowed during the night and it had frozen before dawn. It crunched under my boots as I made my way to the main house and I reconsidered the wisdom of climbing the windmill. If I fall and break my neck, I’d never hear the end of it from Joshua. Or Nika. Or Kiera. Or Arden. Well,… maybe not Arden. Arden had been keeping his nose to the grindstone to help Nika’s ruined eyes and was usually distracted and morose when I encountered him. Of course, the past three weeks we’d endured would have made anyone surly. I didn’t pry but gave him his space.
I’d gained the back porch of the main house when I heard the piano notes, muffled by the walls. They intensified as I opened the door to the kitchen and stepped inside. I cocked my head and listened. I had learned to gauge Nika’s mood by the quality of her playing. Right now, it was relatively calm and the piece under her hands was progressing nicely. Rachmaninov, I thought. I should introduce her to Rachmaninov. She’d like him.
Nala was washing the breakfast dishes in the sink and I took in her expression. She was worried but determined to plow through it and I gave her a nod and passed through to the music room. If I wasn’t going to work on the windmill, I could still be useful and if Nika’s mood seemed up for it, I might as well broach a subject that Kiera and I had already made some headway on. But first, I leaned in the doorway to listen to her play. She had a nice touch on the keys and she reminded me briefly of my mother working through her sheet music before a performance. It had been over a year since I’d heard my mother sing on the Cortex and I madly, deeply, missed her. I reached for my bandanna and realized I still held it, my sandwich still wrapped inside. Food grounded a person against upset, so I followed Joshua’s instructions and ate it where I stood and let Nika’s music wash over me.
---
The music didn't quite drown out the click of the door as it opened behind her, but Nika finished working on the part she was working on at the moment before removing her hands from the keys. She doesn't turn toward the door -- it's not as if looking in that direction will tell her who just entered, after all. Her head tilts in a mannerism that is beginning to become second nature. She's listening, her expression intent on the sounds and revealing only a profile to the watcher. "Did you need me for something?" Interestingly enough, she's begun sorting out coping mechanisms that don't inherently give away her disability. She doesn't attach a name, and by not doing so she is learning to give the impression that she knows exactly who has come in even when she doesn't.
---
"That was lovely," I said, meaning it. I noticed she'd avoided turning toward the door or calling out a name and I resisted identifying myself. No need to rub it in. I crossed the room as I talked and fetched up against the piano. I ran my hand over the polished wood of its case. I'd acquired an appreciation of wood as a toddler in my father's workshop and it had only deepened with age. "I have an idea that I need to go over with you. Got a minute?"
---
"Of course, Rina. I've got nothing but time on my hands right now," Nika admits drily. She's pretty good at identifying almost everyone simply by voice -- though the hands still have to give her a name. It's identifying them by the footsteps that is harder. "I thought we were renaming her," she adds mildly. "What's your idea?"
She does turn now, pivoting her body on the piano's bench to turn to face Rina, her face tipped upward toward approximately Rina's face, but those eyes with their lack of focus are just off to the right of actually looking at the engineer.
---
I swept the room to make sure we weren't being overheard and then said, "I've been thinking about installing touch strips along the corridors, something discreet, and having Kiera make up some sort of aromatic prompts here and there. Again, nothing overt, but something subtle." To help you get around, I didn't say. It didn't need saying.
---
It's not as if the blonde doesn't know exactly what Rina's up to. And she pulls in a deep breath, apparently considering. "I don't know as I'll be as good about scent markers as you seem to think, and I don't particularly care for strong ones as it is. But touch strips might... be a good idea. As long as no one else objects," Nika replies. Her tone is quiet but resigned. She can't stay angry and afraid all the time -- it's too exhausting. Her natural resilience is finally beginning to drag her out of the bottom of the well of despair. "I can't keep sitting around doing nothing. How can I help with this?" she asks. Not that she's holding out much hope of being able to, but... any activity is better than none.
---
First hurdle down. Good.
"I'll need to measure the ship against you. Tailor the strips to your height. Shouldn't take long." I lay my hand lightly over hers. "Come with me?"
---
Well, that sounds easy enough. Nika stands, her movements cautious with one hand on the piano itself and the other turning to hold Rina's. "Normally I tell Nala it's the blonde leading the blind, but I guess that doesn't apply right now... unless you've gone and dyed your hair when I wasn't looking," she quips as the move toward the door. Her stride is not as confident, not the long-legged easy swing that it has always been -- it's still more a shuffle, but here inside the house, she's beginning to gain confidence. As long as nothing jumps into her path (thanks, Kev!)
---
I tucked her hand in the crook of my arm and gave it a chummy squeeze.
"I thought something like upholstery, a way to add a little color and soften her lines a little. Some cloth, some glue, a bolt or two, and we're done." I shrugged as we gained the front porch. "Also, rumble strips at the stair landings, to give you warning the deck's about to drop out on you. Besides, if we're going to be taking on passengers, safety code'll require that sort of thing anyway."
---
"You've run all this past Joshua, I assume," Nika asks as they walk. Her footsteps are a bit hesitant once they reach the front door. Past the porch too much is unfamiliar territory, uneven ground. She's wearing a pair of shoes cadged from Nala along with the dress, but she pauses as the door opens and says, "I have a wrap on a hook...." She's not sure if they're at the back door or the front. She was paying attention to Rina's words not the direction they turned out of the music room.
Nala comes from the kitchen carrying the shawl Nika's been using and she shoots Rina a smile vividly reminiscent of Nika's own. She's thrilled that the engineer has managed to get Nika out of the music room. And out of the house too! "Here, Rina mentioned she wanted you to look at the ship. It snowed last night -- just a couple of inches -- but you shouldn't need boots to get to the mule." The ship is parked in the back pasture, of course. It's too big to be anywhere else. "By the time you get back, I'll have lunch."
---
"Works for me," I said, smiling my thanks at Nala. I was so fixated in getting Nika involved in my pet project I'd stupidly forgotten about the weather and the need to dress for it. "Will you have your bread, too?" I thought I saw the makings of a loaf on the counter when I passed through the kitchen but couldn't be sure. I only knew the aroma of Nala's baking was mouthwatering and the taste of it even better.
---
Nala smiled. "It's Friday. Baking Day," she said. "There'll be bread. Promise." She's already gotten a clear picture of some of the crew's favorite foods. Tugging Nika's ponytail, she heads back for the kitchen.
Nika, for her part, takes the shawl and throws it around her shoulders. She wrinkles her nose at her sister and murmurs, "Are you ever going to outgrow that?" Nala's laughter as she leaves is her only answer -- and where she would have once rolled her eyes, the nostalgic smile is all that appears as a result. "Wench," she murmurs. "All right, Rina..... onward."
---
We got to the mule without mishap and the ride was uneventful. It was a workhorse model, nothing fancy, and a snap to drive. I pulled up to the cargo ramp and cut the engine, slid out from behind the wheel. My injuries were in charity with me and didn’t complain too much over the action.
“Beglan’s aboard somewhere, checking the reclamation systems I think. We’re making some progress getting our ship back from the smart system. Damned thing’s wired like a freakin’ plate of lo mein. Hope to get the showers fixed soon.”
I got us aboard and stopped at the foot of the stairs to the passenger deck.
“We’re at the stairs. First step is about 10 inches in front of you.” I pulled a grease pencil from my coveralls. “What’s a good distance for that rumble strip for you? Wanna measure it off your foot?”
---
The ride is accomplished in silence, really -- Nika's face is turned toward the window, skyward into winter sunlight and the clear blue sky. There's a wistful expression on her face, but it's covered before the mule stops. When they arrive at the ship and Rina walks her inside, .... it's not coming home. It's still a strange ship, and she has no mental map yet. Shuffling her foot forward, Nika awkwardly measures her own step with a hand on the wall. "About... here?" she asks uncertainly, pointing with her toe.
---
I knelt slowly to the deck and marked it.
"Take a step back, please?"
---
Nika kept her hand on the wall and stepped back, allowing Rina to mark the deck. Lifting the skirt to slide her foot forward and step up, she climbed with a hand on the railing. "How many steps are there?" she calls back to the engineer.
---
"Twenty," I said, slowly standing upright again. "Ten to the landing and turn, then another ten to the next deck."
---
At the landing, Nika's hand skimmed the railing and she turned uncertainly. Once she ascertained which way the steps went, she continued upward to the main door and put a hand out to touch it. "All right," she calls back. "You're dawdling now."
---
I hauled myself up the stairs, trying to balance speed against the pain it would cost me.
"Hello, short woman down here," I mock-growled at her. "Not all tall and leggy like you." I came to a stop on the step below her. "You want something discreet on the jamb telling you which deck this is? Something at about hand height, maybe?"
I paused short of the threshold and marked the jamb where her hand could casually brush it. Aware of Nika’s fragile pride, I resolved to make the markings as integral to the ship as possible. The last thing I wanted was to have my modification look like the proverbial afterthought. They would only call attention to Nika’s disability when what I wanted was to give her a method to conceal it. I didn’t miss how her confidence in moving around in her childhood home had improved, nor how it faltered once she’d crossed the threshold. For the next foreseeable, Exeter would be home for her and damned if I wasn’t going to help her map it.
“Just swing around the jamb on the right and the stairs to the next deck are right there.”
---
Nika tilts her head, her eyes blankly staring at the bulkhead in front of her face. "From the exterior, I'd think that won't be a problem. It only comes in on one deck, right? But... inside, that might be a good idea." She waits for Rina to go ahead and lead the way into the vessel feeling the shift from light to dark but not really seeing it. More an instinctive knowing that the atmosphere shifted. It's not as open inside, the air doesn't move the same way.
---
I caught her cue and edged past her for the flight up, knowing the noise of my progress would be a useful guide.
“Do you want the touch strip on the corridor walls on both sides or just one?” I had thought one side would be best, the better to differentiate starboard from port, but it wasn’t my head that needed help navigating.
---
Nika thought about that. "One," she replied as she followed Rina over the threshold. "If it were a railing it would be about here," she says, gesturing to about waist height. "For a more subtle touch strip.... perhaps here?" she suggests. Her hand drops to about hip height, where she could merely reach out and brush fingers without it seeming obvious that's what she was doing. "And as stupid as it sounds... keep it on the left." It keeps her gun hand free. Not that she would ever be grabbing for a gun blind like this, but.... old habits.
---
“Keep it to port. Got it.” I was glad she understood immediately what I’d been aiming for and didn’t need an explanation that would only embarrass us both. Then again, her IQ is just fine. It’s only her eyes that have taken a nosedive lately. Dumbass. I marked the wall with my grease pencil, making it plain that it was a legitimate notation and not something that needed wiping off. I only wanted to put Nika through this once.
“From here, I could mark the entire deck this way or just limit it to where you’re likely to go most often. What would you like?” Personally, I would have done the entire deck, disguising necessity with bland conformity. But it wasn’t about me.
---
"Seems to me it'd be less obvious if you mark the whole place, wouldn't you think?" Nika asks mildly. "If there's more than one corridor going any direction, though..... we might need something for that. The Gift just had the central corridor. How many are on this boat?"
---
“Two each on the passenger and crew decks. It’s laid out rather like the lower deck of the Gift,” I managed to say past the pain of losing her. I gained the crew deck and eyeballing her height, marked the jamb before stepping off the last tread. “You have a corridor running the length to starboard and to port, and like the Gift belowdecks the area between them is occupied. Only here, instead of containers you have the spine of the ship and compartments and pass throughs. On the passenger deck going from bow to stern, you have a pair of heads, a pass through connecting the two corridors, a pair of showers, another pair of heads, another pass through and the stairs. Flanking the corridors are passenger quarters all the way to the hull, five to a side. On the crew deck—which is where we are now—bow to stern, we’ve got a pair of supply lockers, a pass through, another pair of lockers, a pair of heads, another pass through and the stairs. The lockers face the corridors and the use of space to the hull is varied. I’ll walk you through it, starting port a-stern. Turn right,” I added as she scaled the last riser and set foot on deck.
I took her right arm in mine and moved her gently to the door on left of the stairs. I got her through it and resumed my monologue.
“We’re in the corridor. You’re right at the wall. Flex your left wrist and your fingers should just brush it.” I leaned over and marked the wall when she did so, then tucked the greasepencil behind my ear and continued the tour. I named each compartment as we came upon them in our walk to the bridge. “I realize you might be a little more familiar with this deck from the flight over, but walking for’ard to the bridge, you’ve got the crew lounge behind you, with engineering centered aft of it down a short run of corridor. Coming up to port are two crew quarters with the pass through to starboard, medbay, the portside airlock and the pass through to starboard, Botany Bay, and a hatch down to the passenger deck. The corridor ends at the aft door to your quarters.” Or what would be her quarters if they weren’t being used as an office during her absence.
I looked over my shoulder at the marks I’d made on the walls as we’d covered the distance and realized something.
“The wall run is really broken up. Doors to quarters. Med bay. Airlock.” I frowned. “What say I put rumble strips or bump matting on the deck where the walls stop and cut them short when the wall resumes? That way you can tell where you are on the deck even without a wall to touch. Sound good?”
Mind, I had no idea where I was going to get the materials to sufficiently kit Exeter out to those specs, but I’d to do my best to get it done. We’d planned for a minimum of four weeks’ downtime to give ourselves time to heal. It should give me plenty of time to scav the area’s scrap yards. Beylix might have been a haven for junk divers, but Boros was known for its better quality yields in electronics and parts. It wasn’t too unreasonable to assume I could find most of what I needed while junk diving.
---
Nika walked with her, listening intently to every word. She can't memorize everything that Rina is telling her right now, but she does have some amount of familiarity with the crew deck. Not a lot, mind, but some. "No, that sounds far too confusing," she admits. "I imagine I'll spend most of my time learning to count steps anyway, so I suppose if we can find some subtle way to mark each doorway just above the touch strip so that I can ID it like you would with a nameplate.....?" She's not sure that will work either.
---
“Smart idea.” I immediately saw my mistake and adjusted my plans. “I can disguise it as part of the strip’s mounting hardware, since it’s going to be capped at the doors anyway.” I rapped my knuckles on the door frame. Beglan and I still hadn’t managed to free the door controls so it was jammed open with a socket wrench. “If you step through here, we can continue on to the bridge.”
---
Following Rina onto the bridge brought a pang of unease to Nika's stomach, reflected in the grimace of her expression. She stands just inside the doorway, once more sensing the vast amounts more space than the Gift had, and being as Joshua had her in here a few times, she steps forward with one hand outstretched. At the fifth step, she brushes the pilot's chair and moves to sit in it. It, at least, has some sense of familiarity, of belonging. "Joshua said she's huge," the blonde comments softly. "The bridge sounds big. He said about four times the Gift's. I only have vague memories of the specs of this one, honestly.”
---
“I can run them up for you if you like,” I offered. “Read’em out to you.” I moved aft to the engineering station. “On your seven is Engineering and on your five, Comms. For’ard to your left is Copilot and for’ard on your right is Helm. You could run laps in here, she’s so wide and open. Haven’t been on one like this in …,” I stopped and counted backward. “Twelve years, four months, two weeks, give or take. I’ve missed it.”
I ran a hand across the engineering console, eyeing the configuration and style of the controls. About ten years old, I thought. They stopped making that gauge about then, replaced it with an electronic one. I tapped it, delighting in the needle’s quiver.
“She’s big, Nika. I can’t say anything about how she handles, not having flown her, but she’s big and has promise. Have you thought about the cargo/passenger mix for her yet? We’ve got an entire deck we can charge passage for.”
---
There's a long pause and Nika finally says aloud, "You'll need to talk to Joshua about that, I think. I'm ... starting to get the feel for doing things in the dark, but I don't feel confident in making decisions for the crew like this." The admission is difficult. "You need someone who can assess the situation on the fly, and right now... I'm not that person." Hell, she doesnt' even know what the ship has right now.
---
I examined her profile, gently lit by the morning light from the windows, her borrowed dress and unbound hair an incongruous sight on the bridge. Even blind, even in a housedress with her hair down, Nika looked more natural sitting in the pilot's chair than in any other environment I'd seen. Regret, sharp and bitter, swept through me at the sight of her and I had to screw my eyes tight against the prickling of tears. She didn't need that from me right now. Instead I sucked it up and crossed the deck and put my arms around her. I said nothing. I only held her, hoping it could tell her everything I couldn't find the words to say.
---
She was startled by the sudden appearance of Rina's arms around her. Nika reaches up to pat one of the forearms that crosses her shoulderblade a touch awkwardly. "Rina, you okay?" she asks quietly. There was tension arcing through her body, but she didn't reject the touch. More like... withdrew a little further into her shell. Emotion-laden moments tended to make her a little uneasy, and she was clearly uncertain about what to say to do for the engineer. For her friend. Without the visual cues to be able to determine what exactly had just happened, Nika felt out of her depth.
---
I felt her stiffen and realized I’d done the wrong thing. Dammit. As usual, the results weren’t what I’d hoped for or intended. I gave her a parting squeeze and eased back.
“Just wanted to hug you,” I said, trying to keep things simple. She probably does not want complicated right now. “That’s all.”
---
Nika relaxes and smiles slightly. "Not that I mind it, but it's not exactly your norm," she observes mildly. "You sure you're okay?" Because it's far easier to deal with the possibility that Rina's having problems than it is to deal with her own. Or to contemplate the idea that she was being pitied and that was the reason for the overt affection. As she looks upward, she wishes she could see Rina's face. So many cues are given in muscle movements.
---
"Nothing like a brush with death to make you appreciate living. And before you consign that as a platitude, let me say that this time it's different. I might have flirted with dying half a dozen times since I started shipping out with you but this is the first time in a VERY long time I risked losing all of you. And this is the first time I've been able to really feel that. Maybe that's a problem. Or maybe I'm finally pulling my head out of my self-absorbed ass and noticing I've got family who needs me." I sighed and slid my hands down her arms to twine my fingers with hers. "And that came out harsher than I wanted and I'm sorry for that. But still. Nala said something to me the other day and while it wasn't anything different than what you and Arden and the others have said countless times before, this time it somehow sank in. 'You're one of ours', she said. 'Whether you like it or not.' That makes us family and considering what we've just been through, family hardly seems sufficient to describe it. So if I hug you, it's because of that, okay?"
---
Nika tilted her head, her fingers squeezing around Rina's. A faint smile quirks her lips. "Nala's been talkin' to Mama Johannsen too much, best I can figure," she comments. Those unseeing eyes slip back toward the front windows, as if her attention is inescapably drawn there though she has no real reason to. But she nods slightly. "It was a tough run this time. And being as there was no body, I'm afraid to hope that it's really over," she admits. And in a lot of ways, for her it will not be over for a long time to come. "Joshua and I need to talk, I guess. Not like we got any money at all to even fuel this monster. I doubt Nala can help us much, if at all. We've always had our assets tied up in the ranch, and I think.... maybe it's just one large spread nowadays. I expect she's gonna ask me sign over my shares at some point."
There's a pang with that idea. Her mother and her father are buried on this land. She has no other blood kin beyond Nala, her son Kevin, and JJ. And it's not as if she's ever here. But it's still.... the last bastion. Home is where you go and they have to take you in, right?
---
"Sell your share? But ..." I shut up. It wasn't my decision. "Okay. Do what you feel is right but there may be a way we can do some local jobs with Lagniappe, raise the cash that way."
Not that I doubted for a minute Nala would still keep Nika in the family, share or no share.
---
"Oh, no... I didn't mean.... " Nika trails off and then smiles. "I'm not articulating it well. Don't worry about that part. I was just thinking about what would make it easier on her, if she wants to roll it into the Johannsen spread officially and stuff, that's all. I mean.... they're running it all like it's one spread anyway." She shrugs. "Anyway... let's get back to what you brought me on board for, okay?"
---
"Okay, let's." I gave her hands a squeeze and released her. "Truth to tell, it's already done—I can take the measurements off what I've marked up today and apply it elsewhere. We can go back now if you like."
---
Nika hesitates and half-turns her head toward Rina. "If you don't mind, I think I'd like to just sit here a while," she murmurs softly. A little privacy is kind of a priceless commodity right now, actually. "Come back and let me know when you're done and we'll go back." As she turns back toward the front her face takes on a wistful expression, as if she's trying to imagine what the bridge here looks like.
---
To read more on Nika, go to Nika's Crew Page
Go back to: Timeline Season Four, April 2521 to Dec 2521
Go to Peripatetica - Rina's Journal entry and RP log
Go to Rina's Russian Glossary
Go to Rina's Crew Page
Go to EPISODES or TIMELINE
