Doubt Is A Plague She Can Ill Afford

Four days ago:

"Got a minute?"

Nika's voice made Shyla pop her head out from under the console she was repairing. The look on her friend's face made the redhead opt not to return to the work as they talked. Instead she sat upright and gave the blonde her full attention. "What's on your mind?"

"They're not getting anywhere with Mifuni," Nika tells her captain, her expression shuttered and neutral. "It's time to decide what to do with him."

Shyla pulled up one knee and rested her arm on it, pursing her lips. Her eyes never left Nika's face. "What do you think we should do about it?"

With a faint shrug and a tone laced with steel, Nika said, "I think we should get rid of him. Whatever his goals actually are, we aren't equipped to just let him hang out in a jail that he'll be working to escape every moment. And I'd rather not be worried about getting my throat slit."

Shyla paused, assessing both the way Nika phrased herself and the tone in which those words were delivered. "We're not going to kill him," she finally replied. Relief, a faint hint of guilt, and acceptance chased each other across Nika's face as Shyla watched. "Would you really condone cold-blooded murder, Nika? Because that's what this would be."

Nika hesitated and averted her eyes, looking just left of Shyla's head. "Just don't really feel good about the idea of being judge, jury, and executioner. How far out of range do you want him to be?" she asked Shyla without elaborating.

Shyla's gaze on Nika sharpened, but she left it alone. "As far out of range as you feel comfortable. I wouldn't drop him in a volcano or anything crazy, but certainly as far away from the rest of us as you see fit," she finally answers. "I doubt he'd move on all of us now, but... not sure enough of it to trust him either."

Nika merely nodded and headed out.

---

Today:

The weather's warm enough during the day, and the ship more so, that most of the people have taken to wearing as little as possible to get by. Shyla's no exception. Wearing a thin-strapped tanktop and a pair of khaki cargo pants, the Harbinger's erstwhile captain looks just as sweaty and dirty as any mechanic. She's just coming off a several hour repair shift on board the Gift, and she's got grease or grime streaking both arms -- climbing inside consoles again, no doubt. She looks to the sky as she heads for several crates of supplies sitting in the dirt next to the ship, noting the rain clouds beginning to gather in the east. If it builds big enough, they'll see a storm in the next couple of hours, but it's not a guarantee -- hell, so far as Shyla can tell, it's not even likely. So she ignores it, yanking open the crate on top of the stack and rooting through it.

"You should take a break." Christian says. He followed Shyla off the ship, where he was busy working on picking up some of the mess the others made whilst repairing systems. No need for problems to occur because people are tripping over spare wires and burnt out computer cards. He tosses an apple in her direction.

Looking up, her hand shoots up to catch the apple automatically. She looks at the piece of fruit and asks, "What, you go on a foraging trip to the north continent?" she asks. Because here, at least, apples are out of season. Though they would still be growing on the other continent, what with the differing seasons. "Nice," she compliments. She says nothing else for a long moment, taking a bite of the apple and savoring the taste of it. Leaning a hip on the stack of crates she was digging through, she studies the Companion. "There's time to rest when we get off this planet," she tells him finally. "I'd like to make that happen as fast as possible."

"I found a small stasis freezer in one of the penthouse offices." Christian points up to the top of one of the tall buildings. "There were a few pieces of fruit in there, preserved as well as the day they were born. The battery was just about to wear out."

Shyla grins at that. "They say timing is everything," she quips. And then slants an amused look at him. "You'd know all about that."

Christian raises an eyebrow. "I suppose so. We could trade sexual innuendo all day if you like. I'm very good at it. There's an entire class on talking dirty at the Temple."

The laughter that bubbles out of the woman is full and hearty. "You can talk dirty to me anytime you want," Shyla tells him easily. She takes another bite of the apple and tilts her head to study him. "So tell me... I've never flown with a Companion on board... does it work out well for you?"

"I'm still getting used to the idea, honestly." Christian says with a faint shrug. He settles down on one of the crates. "The last time we saw each other, I was retired. So far, I've found clients here and there. More there than here, obviously."

The redhead nods slightly, still resting against the crates. "Didn't know Companions ever retired of anything but old age," she comments mildly. She watches him sit and then looks out over the landscape with a thoughtful look. Although on Pala they were each civilians, there is an air to the former captain that has still not vanished -- a sense that in spite of the fact that she's part of the group, a part of her remains at arm's length. The part that might have to give an order that will get someone hurt, most likely. She has cultivated it over a lifetime. As she turns to look at him again, sunlight glints off the silver just beginning to gild her copper hair. "You've got a good crew," she tells him.

"I have a good family," Christian replies. "We work well together. We complement each other. And we're all flawed. It is a good combination."

Shyla smiles slightly, crossing her arms and resting the half-eaten apple on her upper arm. "The complementing each other is what builds a crew. Each person has a role to fulfill." She takes another bite of the apple and glances at him. "You sitting out here keeping me company for a reason, or just because you don't have anything else to do?"

Christian smiles, glancing away for a moment, then back to Shyla. "Me? I've been cleaning all day. I'm taking a break. You happen to be taking a break in the same place I am."

Shyla seems to accept that answer at face value and merely nods. She finishes her apple, crunching on the fruit quietly for a while. "You haven't said much about what happened," she comments finally, turning to look at him as she sets the core next to her. She'll put it in Christian's compost pile later. "You okay with it?"

"On the island?" Christian asks. "I'm not... okay with it. Second guessing ourselves, playing the "what if" game, blaming ourselves for what happened? That won't do any of us a lick of good. Identify mistakes, learn from them, move forward."

"I was referring more to letting the bastard go than what happened on the island," she tells him. "Blaming ourselves for what happened is a given."

Christian ahhs and nods his head. "As far as I'm concerned, you were the best qualified amongst our grouping to make that decision. You have doubts, though."

Shyla is quiet for a time. "Some," she comments. "Not about abandoning him." She glances toward Christian and smiles. "Got plenty of doubts about other things," she tells him easily. "We've done a lot of things as a crew. Losing half of mine is a hair stressful. Getting one of my own damn near killed by a man that's been on board for over a year? Just a bit stressful." She shrugs a bit and looks away. "He was doing what he came aboard to do, but it does concern me that neither Harry nor I caught a whiff of anything off about him until then. Thought we were better judges of character than that."

"I've been thinking about that," Christian admits. "I've spent enough time with Harry already to know how well her powers of perception work. He seemed to know the tricks, though. Avoid eye contact whenever possible. Hide the microexpressions. He was as well trained at his job as you and Harry are at yours. I don't think we would have realized he was a spy, either."

Shyla seems happier to let the matter drop. She tends to prefer dealing with her issues internally as opposed to talking them to death. "Most likely not," is all she says on it. "I find it interesting that you're almost as good as she is, but she's no Companion. Do all of you have good people instincts?"

Christian laughs. "You're right. She is better." He takes a swig of the water he brought out with him. "Empathy is partly instinct but, partly, something that can be learned. There are muscles in your face that move whenever your emotions and thoughts change. Even if you don't smile when you're happy, for instance, there are small movements around your mouth and eyes. You can be trained to notice those. Likewise, you can be trained to control them."

"I don't know that I'd say 'better' exactly. I think... she looks for different things than you. With her, a lot of it *is* instinct," Shyla replies. "She's kinda scary about it. After all the years we've been together, I trust her gut better'n I trust most people's facts."

Christian mmhmms. "She reminds me of my mother that way. She just... knows. I watch body language, microexpressions, evaluate behavior... I pay attention to it all and I've learned to process without thinking about it. The way that people drive a mule. But Harry.. reads people."

She considers that assessment from Christian and then nods. "She does." Shyla looks toward him and says, "She thinks highly of you. She thought highly enough of all of you not to make it an issue when we had to bolt out of Deadwood. That's high praise. Usually."

Yes, Christian can't help smiling. "I am fortunate." He says, simply. "Nika thinks highly of you. I don't think there's a situation we've ever been in where she hasn't thought, 'What would Shyla do?'"

That brings Shyla's head around to look out over the fields. "I'm thinking the girl thinks too much," is all Shyla says about it. Although she's proud of Nika, more recent events have her wondering at her own abilities a little. Wondering if she's losing her edge. "Let me ask you something... what exactly happened out there? I pretty much expected Nika to be .... far less accepting of the decision to drop Go out into the wilderness to make his own way than she was."

Christian weighs Nika's privacy against the good an old friend can do with information. "A few things. We went to the ranch and she had to deal with the relatives of her brother-in-law. Especially since her brother-in-law's brother became her new brother-in-law. She began spending time with Arden. Most importantly, though. She died. The man who stole the ship before we liberated it pursued a course of biological warfare against us. It proved fatal to her. Arden barely brought her back."

Shyla's brows shoot up at the last. "She told me about Larry...." And she grins openly at Christian. "Hell, Harry told me about Larry last time we passed on through. But the dying part? Yeah, she didn't mention that," she comments thoughtfully. "All she said was that she was glad we weren't going to just execute him... and when I asked her if she'd really do that, just shoot him in cold blood, she got this funny look." She looks at Christian seriously. "Harry taught her real well to assess who's a threat and who's not, when to take the shot and when not. I expected to have to argue her and Harry around. But I suppose dying would change a body's perspective."

He waits, then nods his head. "There was something else. We had to help Mike. He was exposed to a drug similar to the Pax. To cure him we went to the core, had to break into a hospital. I'll make a long story short. There was a doctor there. Nika assessed the risk if we left him alive, even knocked out... and she executed him."

Well, that pretty much confirms what she already figured out. "That was a while ago now... she do okay with it?" Shyla asks.

"I think she feels sorrow," Christian admits. "I think she's made peace with herself, though. We haven't talked about it in a while and we've lurched from one emergency to another since."

Shyla snickers. "Sounds pretty par for the course," she admits. "Kinda figured something went pretty south out there for you guys. I think if Go'd died on Pala or if he'd given her any reason when we first got back, she'd have killed him without a qualm. But I have to admit.... I'm glad that she feels bad for that. Killing shouldn't be that easy. Not for anyone."

Christian finishes his bottle and pushes the stopper closed. "No. It never should be. I've had to do it, in battle. You don't survive out here without pulling a trigger. I don't want to ever have to be forced to execute someone, though."

As she leans against the crates, Shyla looks out over the land here and says quietly, "During the war, there were times when it was.... expedient. Perhaps not the right thing to do, and not the only option... but the simplest one. I can... and have... done things and ordered things done that ... I'm not sure I could do again." She draws in a deep breath, her brows furrowed together and her arms still crossed. "I'm not sure I made the right call in letting him go, either, but I figure if he does call for help and they come for him, his reception won't be a good one. Even now, I can't figure out if he would have actually killed any of us. Can you go that deep undercover and still keep your distance from the ones you're spying on? He's saved our butts often enough that I can live with this call."

Christian walks over and puts his hand on Shyla's shoulder. He smiles at her. "I have every confidence in your decision. Those questions will haunt you for a while. Let your experiences guide you but don't let them remove your ability to trust."

And there's the crux of the matter. She's trusted her own and Harry's instincts for so long, to have them fail like this is just... difficult. She looks at Christian and offers him a faint smile. "You're half my age and you're telling me the same crap I'm telling myself... and getting exactly the same response, you know. Tell me something about yourself. It has not escaped my attention that my best friend is taken with you, young one."

"My parents were both Companions. I was, you might say, bred for the job." Christian says. He lets his hand lower slowly to his side. "I hope someday I know the sort of love they have for each other. I enjoy cooking. I enjoy painting. I enjoy helping other people. I'm a Buddhist."

Shyla's expression is thoughtful as she watches him. "Aren't Buddhists pacifists?"

"Some are, yes." Christian says. "However, not all. There's many different branches of Buddhism... and some of us realize that to better oneself at the expense of another is as bad as violence itself. Possibly worse."

"Mmmm," is all the former captain says. "Well, for what it's worth to you, I don't think we'll ever be able to really repay this crew for coming in after us. It was... perhaps not entirely unexpected, because I know Nika," Shyla says with a faint smile. "It would have happened sooner or later that she'd come looking... but I don't honestly believe I ever thought she'd find us. I'm grateful that none of you were hurt in the middle of all this. And I'm more grateful than I'll ever be able to say for the care that you and your doctor are taking of Brian."

"We're family." Christian says, "You would do the same for us. Or for my parents. Or Nika's sister. Or Mike. I already know that."

Shyla looks at Christian, and her tone is cautionary. "There is a lot I would do... for her, but as to the rest? We'll have to see." She reaches out and pats his arm lightly. "Time will tell."

"You may have doubts." Christian says. "I don't. People often surprise themselves." He glances at the sky. "We should return to work. The ship won't fix itself."

Shaking her head and turning to dig through that crate again for the part she came out here to find in the first place, Shyla comments, "You could be almost as annoying as Harry to be on board a ship with, I'm betting. How that engineer of yours hasn't brained you yet, I'm not sure I know," she chuckles.