Editing Can't Live With Them, Can't Shoot Them



She's spent a lot of time on the bridge, as is usual for her, but Nika's been a good sight more avoidant for the last couple of days. She's seemed to have a lot on her mind, not that it's anything unusual of late for her to have a furrow between her brows. Her silences haven't had the feel of someone getting ready to rabbit, though -- they've got a more contemplative feel to them since liftoff from Muir. That sense may be belied by her appearance at the moment, however.

Her exercise pants and tank-top are both black, and they are soaked through with sweat. The pilot's skin has a glisten to it that says she's been going all out for quite some time now, and her breathing is labored. The punching bag is taking the brunt of whatever's on her mind -- it's wet around the middle where her hands and bare feet have made contact while she beats the living crap out of the thing. Her movements are fast and powerful, sending the bag swinging with each kick or hit. The solid '''THWACK''' of skin on leather is a steady sound.

***

'''Thursday, 05 Dec 2520'''<br>
'''Kuiper II class, ''Summer’s Gift'' '''<br>
'''En Route to Pericles Station'''<br>
'''2200hrs, ship’s time'''<br>

I’d read all my trade journals cover to cover.  I’d organized and reorganized my tools.  I’d reviewed my notes and to-do lists and prioritized the tasks left undone.  I’d run out of chores I could do sitting down in deference to Arden’s orders and after three solid days of goldbricking the inactivity was too much for me to stomach.  I had to get up and ''do'' something.  Something I was sure Arden would skin me alive for, hence my slipping belowdecks after he’d retired for the night.  I was sore from the pounding I’d taken over the past several weeks but my internal imperative to ''move'', to work up a sweat, was worse and I could no longer ignore its prod.  So it was that I paused on the threshold of the crew lounge and found it occupied.  Memories of Aikido lessons with Joshua flared and faded and I stepped inside, towel over my shoulder and gloves in hand, to take a seat on the bench.

***

It took several minutes for Nika to turn around, though she was aware that she had company from the moment Rina darkened the door. Breathing heavily, she finished the round of attacks she was doing on the bag, turning around with a faint scowl that quickly fell into a neutral expression. As she walked back toward the bench to pick up the bottle of water sitting there, she eyed Rina. "You're not supposed to push it." Her tone was casual, and she absently reached up to smooth lock of blond that had come loose from her braid behind her ear. The movement shifted the chain around her neck to the top of her scooped neckline, giving a glimpse of sparkling stone. "I'm pretty sure Arden wasn't kidding about the level of damage you took. And we don't need you laid up longer than necessary," she said mildly, chugging a long drink of water while keeping Rina in her periphery.

***

I’d caught her change of expression because I was looking for it.  I’d noticed Nika’s slow and deliberate withdrawal from the rest of the crew and had shared with Joshua my thoughts and fears on it.  What I saw now only lent them credence: we were losing her.  She’d been to ''Decatur'', had two disastrous meetings with Brian, and in the end had walked away from both.  This, despite her earlier avowal to stay.  This, despite my promise to back her in that decision, come hell or high water.  Instead of helping her move to ''Decatur'' against any possible opposition from the rest of the crew, I found myself following her orders as our putative Captain.  It was a state of affairs that left me both grateful and puzzled.  Glad, because quite frankly I was not Captain material, no matter my drive and perseverance in adversity.  And confused, because I was so certain that she’d already made her commitment to leave with ''Decatur'' once she’d crossed paths with her again.

So now ''Decatur'' lay behind us in Blue Sun while we pulsed for Pericles Station. Nika was still aboard and our Captain, and the woman we knew and loved was dwindling a little more each day behind a carefully crafted façade of imperturbability.  Inscrutable and inaccessible.  It was a process I’d seen play out before and in most cases that tactic never ended well.  For Captain or crew.  God knew I was the last person in the whole freakin’ Universe to lecture another on the necessity of moderation, but what I saw in front of me required it.  My initial reason for coming down here took a far backseat, as did the inevitable consequences that would accrue if I followed through on it, and instead I focused on the woman in front of me.

“I know I’m not supposed to push it.  I know Arden wasn’t joking about the damage,” I agreed with her unspoken command: ''behave, you.''  “But if I don’t do something to work off the fidgets, I’m going to blow a gasket or pop some stitches and then where would we be?”

Something bright caught my eye as I said it, watching her take a pull on her water, and I spied a ring dangling from the chain she wore.  It was half hidden by her shirt but not so hidden I couldn’t identify it.

''Huh.  Brian, you '''dog'''.  What did you say to her?''

I recalled Mike’s proposal two years ago and my reaction then.  I was pretty sure Brian had pulled the same stunt and had to wonder.  Was ''that'' the trigger, the stressor that put Nika on the path she trod now?  Should I ask her about it?  Possibly intrude?  Force a confidence?  The fact she kept the ring hidden argued against prying …but then, I was pretty adept at ignoring arguments when they least suited me.  If I wanted to proceed, however, I would have to be subtle about it.  Something I’m not known for.

Not that it ever stopped me before. 

“Nice rock. New?”

''So much for subtle.''

***

The query brought Nika's arm back down, her hand flying up to tuck the ring on its chain back beneath her sports top. "Yeah," she replied quietly, the flash of hurt unable to be hidden. She reached up and scratched the back of her neck and moved finally, for the first time in weeks, to sit next to her friend and slump down companionably.

"He said I was the only thing in his memories that had any emotions attached," she said morosely. "So obviously that meant we were supposed to be together. He knew I didn't want to stop flying, so he offered to ... make it work long distance. Enthusiastically, too. Offered to come aboard with us, since I said that ''Decatur'' just didn't... ''fit''." Nika looked down at her water bottle. "And I said yes. Because... you know, I saw what saying ''no'' cost you. But..."

Nika laughed softly, the sound holding a wealth of bitterness. "I knew it was doomed the moment I said it. I ''tried'' saying no first. That we needed time together first. But he... didn't want to hear it. And then he realized Arden and I were still a thing, and he... totally lost it."

***

"Aw ''Christ'', Nika."  I immediately threw my good arm around her and hugged her hard, gritting my teeth against my injured finger's protest. I'd get ice for it later. And knowing that commiseration might not be what she wanted, I followed up with some rough sympathy.  "You know that Mike and I are a shitty example to follow.  Cuz, hello, more apart than together? You goon."

***

Nika leaned over and rested her head on Rina's shoulder, her jaw clenching against an upwelling of sorrow. "Life sucks," she murmured succinctly. And then she simply sat quietly for a while. When she broke the silence again, it was with a soft laugh.

"Any thoughts on what the hell I should do about Arden and Joshua?" she asked quietly as she pushed her head off her friend's shoulder. On some level, perhaps she's taking a page from Shyla Kramer's book of captaincy in this, as well -- she's trusting Rina to be her ''friend'' here, as she always has been, not some kind of subordinate. "What with what happened between Arden and Brian, I haven't even been able to... ''talk'' to the man in a while. And I don't know what to say to Joshua, either. He's even closer to rabbiting than I've been lately."

Nika looked at Rina and admitted, "And believe me... that's saying something. I don't know if I want the responsibility of you guys, and you're all looking at me to have answers. It's... a different head space than I'm used to."

***

I grit my teeth as she put her chin on my shoulder, her weight a painful strain, and I gave her another one-armed squeeze.  Then she pulled back and I could concentrate on the conversation.

“My thoughts on Arden?  He’s pretty laid back about a lot of things, but deep down I don’t think he’s ever been so publicly humiliated before.  Humiliation can’t happen unless the victim accepts it.  And maybe this time, Arden has.  I remember what you told me you chose to do with Escobar to avoid the worst-case scenario, and maybe a woman’s ego is flexible enough to do that sort of thing and look at it purely as a survival issue—no pride need apply.  But a man?  I don’t know.  And another thing: if a woman gets roughed up, she gets sympathy.  If a man gets roughed up, he gets nothing.  At least, nothing overt.  Anything that is just gets lumped together with humiliation and endured or ignored.  So…maybe Arden’s never gone through something like this before and it’s taking him some time to work through it.  God knows,” I added.  “It’s not like we’ve had a chance to just breathe much less devote any time to introspection.

“As for Joshua?  I told him what happened at the refinery and he and I worked things out.  He’s not happy about the fact Blue Sun had trigger phrases implanted in him.  Hell, he’s flat-out freaked about it.  I have a couple of ideas on maybe helping him resist those….but right now, they’re nothing but conjecture.  Sufficient for the moment, he’s maintaining his grip and he’s staying with us.  Which, despite our run of nasty luck, I still think is better than him running loose on his own recognizance.

“As for life sucking?” I tipped my head back, looked at her lazily, and drawled, “Shoot, girl.  Life don’t suck.  We’re just ''bad'' at it.”

***

There was a snort of amusement from Nika as she too leaned her head back against the wall behind the bench. "The ''only'' thing I'm good at in this life is flyin', Rina," the blonde admitted, taking a hefty swallow from her water bottle. "It's why I keep my relationships with men casual and my life uncomplicated. Til recently, I reckon." Blue eyes surveyed the gym. "You should accept the gift in the spirit it was meant," she finally said.

***

"Gift? Did I miss something?"

***

Nika laughed quietly. "The Tokarev, Rina." She turned on the bench, pulling one knee up between them as she faced the engineer. "You should take it in the spirit it was meant. I honestly think it was a peace offering. He wanted to come with us, and he ... took a lot of time to make the right choices of gifts. In spite of his mental deficits and even his anger... he gave each person something that he'd personally chosen for them." There's a flash of that hurt through her eyes, quickly hidden again.

***

''Click.'

"I'm an ass." I was, really. I squeezed my eyes shut and grimaced. "I'll be sure to tell him that next time we meet. I just hope it won't be over the gun he gave me."

***

There was a small smile. "It won't be," Nika replied quietly. "My family's still there." For all that perhaps it has changed, it is still intact -- the conversation with Shyla confirmed it. "It's just that my crew is here now." The blonde smirked faintly. "Three out of four of you are gorram insane, but hey... I guess that's my lot in life."

***

"So how do you know you're not one of the three?" I wrinkled my nose at her. "They say the insane person is the last one to know."

***

"Ffft," was Nika's reply, along with a light cuff of the back of Rina's head. "I am not the one making me captain. So clearly ''I'' can't be the insane one."

***

“Fair enough,” I snorted.  “I should’a thanked Potemkin on Bernadette and just kept on walkin’.  Then again, common sense never was my middle name, so I guess you’re just stuck with me.”


***

Nika laughed. "Just remember whose decision ''that'' was when I piss you off," she replied as she moved to stand up. "I'm goin' to catch a shower. Don't damage your arm -- I don't want to listen to Arden gripe at you. And we got maintenance to manage when we next make port."

***

“Hell, yes, woman,” I swatted her ass as she went by and I rose to follow her. The internal nag that had kicked me out of my quarters was quiet, satisfied by conversation in a way that a session with the punching bag would not have.  Realistically speaking, it would have been foolish to try it—I wasn’t up to anything strenuous. “Never could understand how a pretty gal like you could stink up so bad.”

***

Nika jumped at the swat and then laughed. "Wench!" Now if only her love life were simpler to put into order. She snorted mildly and acknowledged that just plain wasn't going to happen. Some things just cut too deep. But she suddenly had a whole new respect for the decades-old friendship between Shyla and Harry.

-- everyone needs someone to bounce thoughts off. Someone to tell the secrets to. And someone to kick their ass when they need it the most.

***

“Damn straight,” I said proudly and then yanked her braid. “Damn straght.”

***