Remnants of the Earth
AEDOLIS => Haviah => The Citadel => Topic started by: Marjorie on October 17, 2019, 02:00:14 pm
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Novalee Erinsri. She was striking... if you could look past the robotic arm... and leg. Well, Emrys didn't really really care about that - he wasn't looking to fuck her. He was watching her threw a streaming video feed though as she went about her day's training. There was drill, classroom lecture, combat simulations. She was... good enough, at all of them, though not stellar, she wasn't a bad student either. She was smart, quick witted, and suborn. She didn't handle authority well and she frankly wasn't going to ever make a good traditional soldier if she never learned to play nice with others. She'd gone threw three mentors... he was reading her file now, as he watched the video feed. But that was ok. He saw something else, that might be there. If it was, she might be better off working alone anyway.
Emrys did. Work alone, that is. Out on the wire and usually armed with nothing but his charm and good looks... even when sometimes he was hemmed into situations he aught to be armed to the teeth, literally. Sometimes Emrys did kill people, and had worked with combat units - but never been a part of them, more their local hook up or their contact, liaison, if you will... Sometimes he was even in combat, but he wasn't usually the one who provoked it and he was usually of a mind to leave it behind him as quickly as possible. No, words and keen eyes and ears were his weapons of choice... They were just as deadly and the steaks were always high when one was trying to topple kings and bring planets to their knees.
He wanted to see just how smart she was though. He smirked lightly when a regular soldier entered the room, not a pilot.
"Candidate Erinsri," he called, "I have orders from command for you." The soldier held up a tablet, ready to transfer the order to her.
The orders were rather vague, while telling her exactly what to do. They had a date and time stamp on them for today and fifteen minutes ago.
Pilot Candidate Novalee Erinsri:
You are ordered to leave at once and go to the Citadel, to the address listed below. This order file will give you authorization to leave the ATC. If you are caught doing anything other than following these orders you will be treated as being AWOL from the ATC. MOve with a purpose and don't keep me waiting.
Below that message was the address to Emrys' office, though he wouldn't be there anymore by the time she got there. Below the address was a signature code, but no name. The order file would, indeed, grant her access to leave, but she wouldn't be able to see who had signed it.
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"Candidate Erinsri."
Nova's head snapped up from where she sat with a stylus in one hand, hovering over an open port in her cybernetic arm. She quickly clicked the port closed and slid the stylus back into her pocket, getting sharply to her feet and snapping a quick, if slightly less deferential than was perhaps called for, salute.
Eh, it didn't really matter. The soldier who'd called her wasn't a pilot or a candidate, it wasn't like she'd be written up for disrespecting a superior officer.
She approached to take her orders, feeling the eyes of a few of her fellow candidates on her. It was one of their rare free hours, and she'd thought she'd picked a room that was far enough away from the mess hall that no one would bother using it, but a cluster of younger candidates had proved her wrong just a few minutes after she'd found a seat for herself.
It only took a couple of seconds for the orders to get transferred to her drive. She blinked, holding two fingers to the chip at her temple to pull up a holographic viewscreen just in front of her eyes to read them. Her brow furrowed.
Ohhhkay...
And of course there was no one at the address when she finally got there. ATC hadn't exactly been happy to send her off to the Citadel, and though she'd "moved with purpose"--which was a pretentious way of saying "move your ass" as far as she was concerned--she still had a feeling that she'd be paying for her little "vacation" when she got back to her classes.
Didn't matter that she'd been ordered to go; being on the older side of Candidacy was almost as bad as being recruited younger--she was just as ostracized and forced to prove her mettle as the poor kids she saw occasionally in the halls of the younger Candidate's dorms or rushing to their training.
Pretty much anyone she'd met in the last six years would be happy to have an actual reason to punish her.
And it certainly didn't help matters that it all seemed to be some sort of joke.
"If this is a hazing thing, I'm going to crack someone's skull," Nova growled to herself as she looked around the empty office, dark eyes flashing. She narrowed her eyes slightly, and the chip behind her left eye flared to life, appearing as a tiny red pinprick in the center of her pupil. She considered for a moment, then settled for heat vision, scanning the room once again.
It was probably some dumb hazing thing. Again. But just in case it wasn't...
The last thing she needed was to get snuck up on.
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“Candidate Erinsri?” A polite female voice asked. She was young, maybe twenty something, in a yeoman’s uniform.
“I’m sorry you’re late,” she said, still polite, “I have orders for you.” She transferred the file and then picked up a garment bag that was hanging over a chair and offered it to her. “And this.”
The orders said:
You took too long. Come to the address below, and don’t show up looking like you rolled in off the street. I have a reputation to keep up. Don’t embarrass me and don’t keep me waiting.
—
Inside the garnet bag was a cocktail dress in her size. The address on the new order set had the same signature code and still no name. The address on the new order set was to a swanky cocktail lounge.
—
At the cocktail lounge Emrys was waiting for Nova. He was dressed in civies. He wore a smart three piece suit that was a deep blue almost black with soft grey pin stripping, his tie was the same color as the pin stripes, and he wore a crisp white shirt under the dark navy vest and jacket. He was sitting at a corner table sipping whiskey and waiting. Nothing indicated he was there for Nova. He blended in quite nicely with the other patrons of the lounge.
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Alright.
If this was a hazing thing, it was probably the most elaborate Nova had ever experienced.
She hated the dress. Hated it. It was black and slinky and clung to her figure in a way that left her feeling practically naked, though ostensibly the fall of the fabric could be classified as "modest", hitting about mid-thigh and not focusing overmuch on the cleavage.
But she wore it anyway, because a quick scan with the chip behind her eye of her new orders had revealed two things.
One: the signature code could be tracked back through the system only so far, but what she did learn was that it was registered to a full-fledged Pilot.
Two: someone was playing a game with her, and she was not about to lose.
Making a concerted effort not to shrink in on herself, Nova entered the lounge and tried to straighten her shoulders, tilt her chin up just a bit in that way her mother said had made her look "imperious" as a younger woman.
She got stares. Of course she did. The dress was short, and had practically no sleeves: her cybernetic arm and leg caught a bit of the low lighting and reflected it back, instinctively drawing attention.
Gods, she hoped that's all the stares were about. She'd been dealing with Candidate training so long she wasn't entirely sure she remember how to handle anything more...personal.
Nova let out a short, sharp breath between pursed lips and made her way to the bar. Her eyes flickered around the room with every step she took, sizing up the patrons. No one in here immediately screamed "Pilot"--but of course they wouldn't. She'd figured that much out by now.
The bartender raised an eyebrow at her, gaze flicking to her arm for a moment before fixing politely on her face, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Whiskey," she told him, short and clipped. "Neat."
If she was gonna get through this, by gods she needed a drink.
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Let the games begin. Emrys thought, smirking on the inside but keeping his expression neutral. He touched her very subtly with his telepathy, pressing on her emotions just so... just enough to ease some of the tension, make her relax a little. It was something he'd never do with a fellow pilot, at least without due cause... but Candidates were free game. The whole idea was to test her out... and they basically had no rights until they graduated anyway. So Emrys didn't feel even a little bad about it.
Emrys let her sit there for long enough to finish her drink before he approached her. "Do you mind?," he asked politely, gesturing to the bar stool beside her, "is this seat taken?"
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Rather suddenly, Nova felt herself start to relax in her seat at the bar, her frequent glances around the room becoming more curious than wary. She sipped at her drink, kicking her biological leg back and up a bit to brace her foot against the rung of her stool. Hey, at least she was getting a chance to get out drills for this--silver lining, right?
No.
She tensed, fractionally, almost imperceptibly. What the hell just...?
No.
A voice in her head, but not--not the voice. Not her, not the little snippet of a conscious she might have possessed, someone...someone else.
Nova was used to dealing with psychics and telepaths--she had to be--but this...she had no idea what this was.
Don't drop your guard, the voice warned, but it was already fading, already so much weaker than that first word.
Wait, what the hell?! Who are you? What are you talking about--?
No answer. The voice was gone.
Nova hadn't even realized she'd finished her drink, moving through all the motions of a relaxed bar patron as she sat there panicking inside her own mind, until she looked down and saw that she held an empty glass. Slowly, carefully, she placed it back on the bar.
She still felt...calm. Scary calm. Calmer than she should feel, but even though she told herself to keep on guard she couldn't quite make her body react the way she knew it should. It was like--like her emotions and logical thinking had fractured, creating a sharp schism between the two.
It was a little terrifying.
All of which she somehow managed to hide behind a polite but surprised smile when a stranger approached and asked to sit beside her. She glanced to either side of him, then at him, cybernetic eye quickly taking stock of his heat register and any unfamiliar tech he may have on his person.
Evidently satisfied with what she saw in that fraction of a second, she allowed her smile to tilt to one side a bit and gave a careless nod toward the stool. "Yeah, by you, if you want it." She still didn't know who she was supposed to be meeting here, so why not?
Hells, for all she knew, this was the guy. Although he didn't really look like most of the Pilots she'd met thus far...
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He wasn’t armed and he wasn’t carrying any tech besides his data pad and cell phone, and he was chipped of course, like everyone else. Emrys flashed her a devastating smile. The sort that usually peaked panties for him, even though that’s not what he was after now.
“I’m Benji,” he said and offered her his hand in greeting. If she took it, he’d catch her fingertips and raise them up to his lips so he could brush a light kiss against he knuckles. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said, “can I refill your glass?”
He could sense her internal freak out, but he managed to keep the smirk off his lips. She hadn’t figured out that he had been the cause though. So, one point for him. She did keep her cool though. If he hadn’t been a psychic, he never would have known how unsettled she was. So, one point for here there.
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"Nova." She took his hand, then had to resist the urge to snatch it back again when he brought it to his lips. That was...odd. And surprisingly formal.
She got the distinct impression that this was the kind of guy who was used to being able to get what he wanted with a smile and a well-placed complement.
In other words, the kind of guy she typically hated.
Alright, why not? Might be fun to put him in his place a bit.
Matching him smile for smile, she tilted her head and acquiesced after a moment, "You know what? Sure. I'm having whiskey." Though she should probably only have another glass, didn't want to risk actually getting drunk.
She let her eyes sweep over him again and this time probed cautiously with her own abilities, just a bit, just trying to get a read on his general emotional state. She kept the psychic touch light, almost airy; she had no idea what his own gifts might be, and didn't want to risk tipping him off.
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Oh Emrys was definitely the kind of guy who was used to getting exactly what he wanted with a smile and a few well placed compliments, barring that he was perfectly happy to manipulate, bribe, black mail, or otherwise coerce people into whatever he needed out of them.
He nodded at the bartender who filled both their glasses. Whisky. She had good taste there. “May I ask what brings you in here today?” When she reached out to get a read on him, is he hit a brick wall. His mental shields were strong and resistant. Anything short of a bruit force attack wasn’t getting in there. He smirked. Quite await of what she had attempted.
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Walls. Definitely using psionics then, though she had no way of knowing if he could tell what she'd just done... Nova stiffened just slightly, something about that smile putting her on edge. Had he noticed?
Shit. If he had that meant he was one of the more powerful psychics she'd ever come across.
Humming in the back of her throat, she traced a finger around the rim of her glass before raising it to take a sip, eyeing him up and down again. "You may ask," she replied eventually as she lowered the glass again. Her own smile shifted toward a smirk and she added, "I may not answer."
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Well knowing he was a powerful psychic, she could assume that Benji was a Pilot, but she couldn't assume that he was the Pilot that had dragged her here. "Fair enough," he said, flashing her an indulgent smile. "What does bring you here, then, Nova?" Then took a sip from his glass.
"My self, I'm just passing threw," he said, "I've got a ride off planet tomorrow, but I have today off, so I thought I'd unwind a little before I had to report in tomorrow. If you wanted to know something about me though, you could always ask. I... might answer." He chuckled softly.
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"Maybe I'm just blowing off some steam," Nova answered flippantly, tossing him a wink over the edge of her glass as she took another sip.
Her smile turned downright mischievous and she cocked her head at him again. "Now, what makes you think you're interesting enough for me to ask anything about you at all?" she asked innocently, all but batting her eyes.
"Innocent" was an interesting play on Nova; it had never really suited her, so when she did it, it was typically in an effort to throw someone off their game--or because she just wanted to take them down a peg, delivering insults with a smile.
Of course, there was always the chance that "Benji" here was who she was supposed to be meeting, which meant insulting him might not have been her best route...but oh well. Go big or go home.
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"No harm in that," 'Benji' said.
Innocent? Well neither of them believed that for a moment. Still, he liked the look of it on her. HE tilted his head just a little, and ran his fingers threw his platinum blond hair that had hints of baby blue in it. "Well, that wasn't you then?" he glanced around the room, "Guess it's someone else around here that thinks I'm interesting.
"Sorry if you find me boring," he said, "if you think I'm to uninteresting, just let me know... I'll be happy to move on and let you enjoy your drink alone."
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"Mm. Would you now?" A spark of suspicion had began to flicker behind her eyes. Nova leaned back slightly on her stool, one hand braced on the bar as she looked him over yet again.
"...See, if you were just trying to fuck me, you wouldn't back down so gracefully," she noted blithely. "Which makes me think you have some other interest in me. Which makes me think maybe you wouldn't be so happy to just move on and leave me to my drink."
Eyes on his, she reached up to brush her hair back behind her ear, feeling the cooler touch of her biotech arm against true skin. The prosthetics were top of the line, almost indiscernible from flesh and blood at first glance, save for the lines of silvery metal that ran along the seams that had drawn so much attention when she first entered--but one could always feel the difference.
"So you're either here specifically to annoy me, which means I was right the first time and this is all some dramatic hazing prank--though how in all the worlds anyone could have got a registered Pilot involved is beyond me. Or, and I'm thinking this is more likely, this is some sort of test of some kind."
She propped her chin in her hand and smiled at him lazily as she took another sip of her drink. "Am I in the ballpark here?"
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"Oh, I'm interested in you," 'Benji' said, "and I'm certainly not part of any elaborate hazing ritual... I can tell you, no Pilot I know would even bother with that... and fucking you probably wouldn't be a bad time," there was a touch of teasing in his tone now... "but if that's what I really wanted, there would be easier ways."
He pressed on her mentally, a lot harder now... It was easy really, when you could mess with someone's head, bend their emotions - to make her turned on, and specifically cause her to be attracted to him, weather or not she ever would be normally. It was easy to send a hot flash of desire threw her, and usually... if he was actually trying to get her into bed, he'd have used a light hand, been subtle enough that she would think it was a naturally growing attraction - but here and now he was just showing her how really, very venerable she could be to him, if he wanted. He let that burring desire grow in her a moment, before he turned it off, just as easily, like a bucket of ice water to the face.
He smirked again.
"But if you want me to go," he said, "I'll be happy to do so." He didn't answer her question though, and he didn't intend to. Not just yet, anyway.
-
Nova stiffened, back going ramrod straight as her hand clutched the bar so hard the wood creaked. She had to take a breath, forcing her mind to center itself as her emotions rebelled, her body falling easily in line with the rush of heat.
If she hadn't known he was using psionics, she probably would have been terrified, and nearly defenseless. Luckily, once she knew what she was dealing with, she at least knew it wasn't really her feeling that, even if she couldn't actually stop it.
It passed and her shoulders curved forward, breath leaving her in a short, sharp rush. Her head snapped around to glare at him, and with the barest flick of her eyes one of the knives from behind the bar shot out to hover just beside his temple.
"Never," she hissed, voice low and dangerous, "do that to me again."
She pressed the knife forward with a flicker of thought until the tip pricked his skin, then let it fall back to the bar with a soft clatter. She shoved away from the bar and got to her feet, squaring up to him. She was shorter than him, though she certainly didn't seem to notice, eyes flashing and lips a thin line.
"I don't give a fuck what you do," she told him pleasantly, the growl in her voice entirely gone. "But you asked me here, Benji, not the other way around." She was confident of that now; those mind games played right into the kind of person her mysterious summoner was, as far as she could tell.
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The nice thing about being such a powerful psychic and telepath was he knew exactly what people were thinking and doing, and about to do. He didn't even bat an eye. Or, for that matter, glance at the knife. His smile widened. "Like I said, Nova, I'm not interested in that." He tossed down the rest of his drink, just as casual as can be.
"And if you really wanted to hurt me," he smirked, "you'd need a lot more than that little knife." He got up off his stool then, "but if you want to know why you're really here... you should put that away, and come with me." He turned then and headed out the door.
Because if I wanted something from you I'd just MAKE you do it. He forced his own thoughts right into her head.
He didn't even look back at her as he headed out the door.
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A shiver ran down Nova's spine as she watched him go.
Don't let down your guard, the voice had said.
Good advice.
"Fuck." Throwing back the rest of her drink, she slammed the glass back onto the bar and followed him out. Mentally, she grabbed onto his words and tossed them back at him, using the bridge he'd created between their minds to project, to force her thoughts through the defenses around his mind using the connection he'd had to forge in order to threaten her to begin with.
I'd like to see you try.
A door once opened could be walked through both ways. And she was a fucking fast learner.
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That's better, he didn't shut down the bridge, he could have, but he'd had more time to learn than her... and he was also both more skilled and stronger psychic than she was, but that wasn't the point here. I was almost getting board with you. She didn't really want to see him try that though. He could break people's minds if he wanted to, he had before.
By the time he'd gotten to the curb a car rolled up to meet him. The driver got out and opened the door for him. He got in and scooted across the back seat to make room for Nova. "Get in, or else go back to the ATC and you can forget about this little adventure."
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Nova stopped in front of the open door, one eyebrow quirked toward her hairline. "Uh-huh." She looked over first the car, then him, then the car again. "Because hopping into a car with a strange man who's already made it clear that he has no issues forcing me to feel and possibly do things I don't actually want to feel or do is a good idea...why?"
Yes, she was curious. More than curious, actually. But she also wasn't an idiot. He'd told her not to tell anyone where she was going--if he did something to her, no one would know where she was.
If they even cared to look.
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"Well," he said, "you're not wrong... but I'm guessing by now you've noticed you're starting to run out of time. You don't really want to find out what they do to the candidates that get trimmed do you?" He shrugged.
She would be able to feel his amusement across their mental link which he still hadn't bothered to shut down, though he had shored up the walls around it so she wouldn't be able to access anything he didn't want to share with her. Emrys chuckled. "You don't really think that they just let Candidates out of the ATC without knowing where and with whom they are going, do you?" The place was more secure than a prison.
Emrys had had to get permission to take her out of the complex and though he hadn't had to explain his exact plans, he'd had to give a reason, which in this case, was testing her out to see if he wanted to mentor her.
"If I do decide to mentor you, I'm going to expect you to do a lot of things that stretch your comfort zones. So get in or go back. Either way, I'm leaving in the next thirty seconds."
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Nova gritted her teeth. He was right.
The most annoying part was that he knew it, and she figured he knew what her response would be.
Biting back a soft growl, she slid into the car and slammed the door behind her, folding her arms over her chest as she settled into the seat across from this stranger. “Fine. I’m in.”
She glanced at the window, then back to him. Gods she hoped she was making the right call.
“...Why do you want to mentor me?”
He had to know her record; it wasn’t like she was a stellar Candidate, she was just...average. A little on the better side of average, but still average. She’d been through three mentors already, and he was right—her time was slowly running out.
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Oh, Emrys was right, and he damn well knew it. She could get in because he told her to, or she could go back and eat crow and get trimmed for all he cared.
"Because," he said, "you're not the best... but you're smart, and you know how survive on your own... and in case you haven't noticed, I don't like following the rules either."
He outstretched his hand to her then, for a proper, real greeting, and a firm handshake if she accepted his hand. "I'm Pilot Noble Emrys Broin. You can call me Sir or Pilot Broin.
"Not all Pilots carry guns and fight battles as boots on the ground. I have and I can, but I use words and subtle application of force to accomplish my mission. I work alone most of the time, and without a safety net.
"If you can get comfortable applying charm, wit, and smartly placed words, I might be able to find a place for you, if you're chosen." Chosen by a dragon, of course, he meant.
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She continued to glare at him suspiciously, but took his hand and gave it a single, firm shake.
“...So you’re a spy.” Her tone was almost accusatory, but she was really more curious than anything else. She just didn’t want him to know it. “And you...want me to learn what you do.”
She glanced out the window of the car again, then back to him. “But—you said it. I’m not the best, isn't this a job for some fucking protege or something? Someone who’s been a Candidate since they were a kid?”
It wasn’t that she was trying to talk it out of him, the opposite in fact—though she was sure it didn’t sound like it. She was just wary: wary of him, of what he offered, why he offered it. But gods it also might be her best chance.
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"Actually," Emrys smirked, I'm a Foreign Affairs Diplomat working out of the Aerospace Exploration Diplomatic Agency... but yes, I am a spy."
He shook his head. "No. What I need is someone who can leave an impression on the people around them just as easily as they can fade into the background never having been noticed at all.
"To do what I do, you need to be able to understand people, to blend into a crowd, to store a lot of information in you head, to play mind games, and to bend people to your will... and you have to be able to do those things alone with no backup."
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Nova smiled, the expression somehow simultaneously sharp, wary, and a little defeated, almost weary.
“I’ve lived my whole life without backup, sir. I’m not exactly a stranger to it.” She tilted her head at him slightly, lips pursed. “So. How exactly does being a Pilot play into this job of yours? Doesn’t having a dragon bonded to your brain make you a bit...conspicuous?”
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"Exactly," Emrys said, "we can build on that." That was exactly the point she already knew how to operate without a net. She preferred not being a team player, and she liked bending and pushing the rules.
"Well, we work in plain sight for one. I am a diplomat in the public eye - they know I'm a Pilot. I'm in the fucking newspapers swooning presidents and prime ministers, and world leaders. I'm not saying that's what you'll be doing, necessarily, but it doesn't hurt anything to be bonded. Besides, i you don't advertise your status as a pilot, unless your dragon," that was wrong - it was the other way around, you were the dragon's pilot. The belonging was the part of the pilot, but there wasn't a grammatically correct way of saying it. "is with you... no one will know you're bonded to one, unless you advertise or a powerful psychic is rooting around in your head, and we kill or conscript into service all the psychs... everywhere. That's how you became a Candidate yourself, right?"
Of course, there were the Gospels, but... they were not going to talk about those fucking traitors.
"You can't just sense Rojgher while I'm sitting here next to you right? Of course not... because I don't leave my mind open, even with the line open between up, it's shielded. Still, he's got a passive connection to me at all times. We can feel each other's presence, emotions come across more than anything specific when we're not actively sending anything to one another. Though, for us... that might be because my gift is empathy. Every pair's connection is a bit different."
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Somehow, out of all of that, the first thing Nova jumped on was...
"Empathy. You?" She raised her other eyebrow to join its twin, expression close to disdain. "Look, I know you're my superior officer and all, so in the least offensive way possible--bullshit. You can sense and manipulate emotion. That doesn't make you empathetic."
Semantics? Yes, obviously. She knew exactly what he meant.
But the asshole had been screwing with her head all day, and she wasn't too thrilled about it.
He was also probably the least empathetic person she'd ever met, telepathic-empathy aside. And that was saying something, really.
"And I became a Candidate because someone recommended me." She sat back and folded her arms more tightly across her chest, frowning slightly. "Still don't know how or why. That wasn't you, was it?"
It was a long shot--if it had been him why would he wait so long to "test" her for mentoring?--but she figured she might as well ask. If he'd really been watching her, maybe he'd have some idea
-
Emrys tilted his head and looked at her. "Empathy is the ability to understand and share the feelings of another - and I happen to actually literally feel everything everyone around me is feeling." It could be overwhelming sometimes. But he'd learned not to let it get to him. A strong emotion like the pain of loosing a loved one, even coming from someone else, it could be like a punch in the face sometimes. "Can I change and manipulate those feelings? Yes. Do I loose sleep over it? No.
"We've all got a job to do, and if you don't like how I do it, tough shit."
Emrys laughed. "It wasn't me. Is that what they told you? Someone recommended you. I know you grew up poor and basically on the streets, if you had been getting regular medical care, they would have found you sooner and pressed you into service younger.
"Every psychic on the planet, and any that occur in clusters off world, in the whole galaxy, are tracked. Those on the planet that are deemed to have useful abilities are pressed into candidate training, those with less useful abilities are pressed into military service, and those too unstable for either are sent off to TRIMM or executed.
"Off world clusters of psychics are hunted down and killed, unless they're kids... we just steal them and force them into the Pilot program. Axis point makes it easy for us to control and monopolize the psychic presence in the galaxy."
-
"Share." Nova looked away from him. "Share being the operative word there, Pilot Noble. You can understand what someone is feeling, you can feel it yourself--but that's because you quite literally have to. You don't get a choice in the matter." She shrugged. "And I'm sure that sucks sometimes, but probably not as much as it sucks for the people you manipulate. There has to be a give and take to share, a two-way street. And I don't believe for one second that you've ever shared with a person in your life."
She glanced back to him, then shrugged again and laid her hand on her knees. "But you're right; long as you don't pull that weird-ass sexual assault crap with me again, I don't really give a shit what you do or how you do it." Raising an eyebrow, she added, "And I'm well aware of how the system works, sir. Just figured I'd ask, covering all my bases."
Settling back a little more comfortably in her seat, she crossed her ankle over her knee, evidently uncaring how "unladylike" a gesture it was in a cocktail dress. "So what exactly is this test of yours going to entail? Because I'm assuming it's not over yet."
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"Oh, I'm sorry," Emrys said sarcastically, "I didn't think you were so sensitive or naive. You think I made it threw Pilot training without anyone ever manipulating my emotions or feelings, or the fact that I have no choice but to feel everything everyone around me does. You think they were kind to me because I was born high class and and my father was a Pilot, or that they didn't try to break me?"
There was real anger there, though he was very careful not to let it bleed threw into his expression, his voice, or anything in his head that he was letting her have access too. Threw their still present mental link it would just come off as annoyance. Part of it was because it was true. Now he didn't share... not really, not often, well maybe with Sparrow, sort of, sometimes... but that was their fault. They had thoroughly broken him in Pilot training. Part of it was because it wasn't true. He used to share. He used to genuinely connect to people as easily as breath. He used to form the kind of deep connections people struggled lifetimes to create. They had taken that away from him. He could remember what it was like, but he couldn't... he just couldn't connect like that anymore. He could see it in his mother's crestfallen expression every time she'd looked at him sense he graduated.
Fuck her. He had shared.
"I won't," he said, "I was just making a point. As I said, I'm not interested in you that way." He liked exotic women and striking men... but he never mixed business with pleasure. That was too messy.
"For tonight," he said, "we're pretty much done. I'm going to start taking you places though... giving you roles to play, testing you on what you remember about the people and places we visit. You need to remember the details. I'll be testing you to see how well you can fit in to different situations high class, low class, public, and intimate settings - and no I'm not implying you'll need to get sexually involved with anyone."
-
For a moment, just a moment, Nova smiled. It was a small, fleeting, private expression, but it was there.
She'd gotten a rise out of him. Though he played it off with annoyed sarcasm, she didn't need telepathy to know what that was hiding. She'd seen it in kids like her, kids who grew up hard because they either went cold, or they didn't grow up at all.
She'd hit a nerve.
You want me to play mind games, Emrys? I can play mind games.
"Don't flatter yourself," she sniffed flippantly. "Even if you were interested, I know enough about psychic manipulation to get myself the fuck out of that kinda situation before you tried to pull anything."
Probably a bluff, but she figured it was really the spirit of the thing that was important.
"So...you're just gonna pull me out of training for these random field trips? Look, I know they don't exactly want me to rank up, but are they really just gonna...let you?"
-
Yes, she had touched a nerve, but Emrys would be damned if he was going to give her any evidence of it. She could think whatever she liked.
"I'm not saying you're not attractive," Emrys smirked, "I'm not blind. I'm just saying that my interest in you is not sexual and I don't mix business and pleasure that way. It's too messy."
Emrys nodded. "Once you reach a certain point," Emrys said, "field experience is more valuable than sitting in a classroom and being yelled at by instructors. That's why we have a Pilot-Candidate mentoring program in the first place.
-
"Mm." She cocked her head and swept her eyes over him from head to foot.
He still only had minimal tech on his person. She didn't know why she'd been worried he'd somehow managed to sneak something more dangerous into a pocket or something when she wasn't paying attention.
"Alright. So...that's it? Test one done and out of the way, I should be expecting your call?" Her tone was flippant, but her eyes were still wary, still calculating. Like she was still trying to figure something out, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
-
Emrys shook his head. “I told you gun toting isn’t my style.” No he didn’t have any hidden tech on him.
He nodded. “Something like that.” Then the car came to a stop and they were outside the ATC. “Now you’d best get back to your dorm... they’ll be expecting you.” The driver had gotten out and opened the door for her.
“Have a good day Candidate.”
-
"Right." Nova gave him one last searching, almost incredulous look before climbing out of the car. "...You too, I suppose."
She closed the door before the driver could manage it, earning a quick, befuddled scowl, but she didn't pay it much mind. She had about a thousand things to think about as she reentered the ATC, and none of them were simple.
...Although they might all be very interesting.
[Cont'd in One Week (http://remnants.spiritsoftheearth.net/smf/index.php?topic=8402.0)]