Editing Confessions

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<span style="color:#800000">''' '' Author's Note:  A thousand thanks to Jay for RPing this one with me.  Thanks, Jay!'' '''</span>
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An excerpt from ''Peripatetica'', by M. K. Sebastien, Engr. ret.



'''Friday, 30 Dec 2518'''<br>
'''Kuiper II Class, ''Summer’s Gift'' '''<br>
'''En route to Bernadette'''<br>
'''20:00 hrs, ship’s time'''<br>


&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I was on my back in the crawlspace under the engine room checking the fire suppression system when I heard Christian rapping at the door.  His arrival was unexpected and I lost my collar chuck to the grating beneath me.  Anxiety over its loss stabbed, and I sighed with relief when I spied it wedged in the metal latticework a few inches away.  I plucked it free and stowed it in my breast pocket.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“It’s open,” I called out and rising carefully I lifted the deck plate overhead and sat up.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Christian stood on the threshold holding a bowl of something orange and glistening.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“I brought some food,” he said unnecessarily.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I hauled out and checked myself.  ''Head-to-toe filthy''.  Christian was, as always, impeccably turned out and his plain white tee shirt and denims looked decidedly chic.  I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and started scrubbing the worst from my hands.<br>  
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Thanks.”  I nodded toward the console.  “You can set it there.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;My nose caught the aroma of peaches and my eyes confirmed it.  I kept on wiping as Christian did as I suggested.  He had the air of someone wishing to talk and I watched him looking around the engine room as he chose his opening gambit.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“We’ve gotten ourselves into a bit of a mess, eh?” he asked.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;''Informal syntax.  He’s trying too hard.  Something’s up.''<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I gave up on the state of my nails and stuffed the handkerchief back in my pocket. I pulled the chair out from the console and sat, and sighed, rubbing my eyes.  I had no patience for the incipient conversation, but didn’t wish to be rude to the man either.  He rarely bothered me with aimless chit-chat and he obviously wanted to talk.  I lowered my hands and looked up.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Like that’s any surprise,” I said, relenting.  “At least it’s familiar.  Things were going a touch too smooth lately and it felt strange.”  I pointed at the bowl.  “Please tell me that’s not the last of the peaches.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“That’s the last of the peaches, I’m afraid,” he confirmed, nodding sadly.  “We have some pineapple left, but it’ll be mostly paste from now on.  Maybe until we pay off our debt.  I don’t know.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Give them to Nika.”  I pushed the bowl to Christian.  “She’s gonna need the vitamins more than me.  She worries me.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Christian shook his head and pushed it back.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“She got the last of the canned pears,” he said.  “I’m a bit worried as well.  We might run into trouble again in the Core if my special friends find out we’re there.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I quirked a brow upward at his insistence over the peaches and ate a slice to mollify him.  God, he could be such a mother hen when the mood was on him.<br>  
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“The Camdens don’t have to know you’re here, not if you don’t go off-ship.”  I licked the spoon clean and pointed it at him.  “But yeah, they could be a problem.  If they do cause trouble, I say we sic STT on them.  They’re our bosses now, let the big dogs sort it out.”  I put the spoon back into the bowl, careful not to splash the juice over the rim.  I swear, he must have just dumped the entire can into it and shlepped it over here.  I recalled how he ran meals back to me when I first shipped out, when the ''Gift'' was still the ''MakeMake'', and decided his solicitude could use some redirection.<br>  
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“How is she?” I asked him, meaning our pilot.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“STT is a system away,” Christian said, ignoring my deflection.  “And the Camdens could be looking for our ship and assume I’m on board.  But, yes, I’ll stay inside.  I’m glad, though, that I have all of you to help with my problems.  I don’t know how I would deal with so much grief on my own.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;''That has got to be the'' lamest ''fishing expedition from him, ever.''<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I looked at him narrowly.<br>  
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Just spit it out, Christian.  I’ve got work to do.” <br> 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“No, you don’t,” he countered.  “You’ve gone over this engine and rewired things a dozen times since we left port.  The ship works just fine.  There are other ways to keep busy.  I wouldn’t mind a chess partner.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“There are other ways to keep busy,” I agreed, refusing to be reprimanded, and sketched a wave at the engine room.  “But nothing else works as well as this.  Besides, my chess is something the chickens laugh at.  You’d get a better game if you asked someone else.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I remembered Nika huddled in her bunk, crying and broken.  Was it only last night?  The shock and the worry I felt for her was still fresh, and both goaded me to do something to help.  I was a ship’s engineer, more familiar with machines and their workings than the delicate insides of people’s heads.  Christian, however, was better suited for that kind of work.  Nika needed Christian more than I did, if I read the signs right, and Christian was in a mothering mood if the peaches were any indication.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“So,” I said and tried again to put him on her case. “You didn’t answer my question.  How is she?”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Recovering.  She might be in better shape than we are, honestly.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;''I doubt that, Christian.  I really do.''<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“You would need to ask Arden for more detailed information,” Christian continued and then paused, and asked, “Why did you turn down Mike’s proposal?”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;''Dammit, Christian!  Leave me out of this. We’re discussing Nika.''<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Eavesdropped, did you?”  I drew myself up and glared at him.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“You know better,” he said gently.  “I don’t listen in on private moments.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I already knew that secrets on a ship were impossible to keep, and the problem was made worse by how tightly-knit we were.  And just like that, my anger faded.  All I felt now was a weary curiosity. <br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“How did you know?” I asked, settling down again. <br>  
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“His body language before he left.  He was tense.  Worried.  Nervous.  And not just because he was leaving.  There would be some relief there, if that were the case,” Christian explained.  “The way he kept looking at you, as if he were afraid of what you might say next.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“It’s not like he hasn’t asked me before.  He’s….”  I breathed a laugh and shook my head.  “He knows me inside-out, and he proposed to me in such a way as to send me running.  He asked me to raise ''sheep'' with him, for God’s sake.  He knew what he was doing.  He wanted me gone.  I don’t know why, but I suspect.  And it pisses me off that he didn’t tell it to me straight: that he’s got a job on and he doesn’t want me there.  So, no waterworks over this one, Christian.  I’m sorry.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I bit back what I was going to say—''If you knew him, you’d know that already''.  It wasn’t fair to twit Christian if he didn’t have the whole picture and I sighed, wishing the situation wasn’t so complicated.<br>  
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Look,” I said to him then.  “I know what you’re doing and I appreciate it. I know that you’re feeling wasted counting towels in the linen closet and cooking soup.  You’re a great steward and an even greater cook, Christian, but it’s not your calling.  You’re a Companion.  It’s who you are.  It’s what you do.  Why aren’t you pursuing it?”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“''That'',” Christian said with a laugh, “was an impressive change of subject.  Well done. Very good.  I’ll tell you what.  I’ll tell you why I’m not pursuing being a Companion if you tell me why you said no to Mike, knowing he had not intention of raising sheep, even if you did marry him.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“I have my moments,” I said, acknowledging the compliment.<br>  
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I rose and picked up the bowl of peaches, thinking to stow them in the galley and avoid any further entanglements.  Christian didn’t move but followed me with his eyes, patiently waiting for an answer, and I realized that before I got what I wanted out of him, I would have to give him what he wanted out of me. <br>  
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“See me in my quarters later tonight.  I’ll tell you what you want to know then.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I walked past him and turning on impulse, I hugged him from behind.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Thanks for the peaches,” I said into his shirt.  It was soft against my face and he smelled of soap. And then got myself out of there before I could dig myself any deeper.  If I remembered correctly, the bowl came with a lid that would keep the peaches contained til I could get to them again.<br>  
<br><br>
'''Go to'''[[Confessions, Part 2|''' ''Confessions, Part 2'' ''']] | '''Go to''' [[Confessions, Part 3|''' ''Confessions, Part 3'' ''']]<br>
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