When he didn’t find her in the galley or on the bridge—he recoiled at the sight of frog blob there—and he decided to try the cargo bay.
Naxe looked up as he entered, her smile quicker and less shy. She gestured at the containers.
“I’m making sure they are well secured for our drop into real space,” she explained, as if he’d asked.
Halliwell went to the other side of the container she stood by, and tested the cords holding it in place.
“It’s not a big load,” he noted, careful to not make it a question.
“If dock siders see too much cargo, they get suspicious.” Her hands paused and she gave him a wry look. “I can’t afford attention. My orders are for short, fast runs.”
He nodded. It made a sort of sense, though the whole set up was pretty crazy and ultimately made no sense at all. This was a point his team had stressed several times. Would a real Picard get this much pushback?
“So, your…Blooban,” every time he said the name, he felt silly, “is your co-pilot?”
She looked up and for the first time her grin held nothing back. “Actually, I am his co-pilot. He allowed me to join his crew after I helped him during an altercation. For some, just the fact of his species is an affront.”
Halliwell blinked, trying to think of something to say. The silence was so deep he almost missed Bangle’s persistent playlist back at Kikk. The AI had become addicted to the music some of his people had brought with them from Earth and she had an odd knack of picking the right song for the moment.
“He doesn’t talk much,” he said, finally, more to break the silence than anything.
“No.” She gave a small chuckle that did pleasant things to Halliwell’s insides. “He doesn’t trust easily.”
Halliwell supposed it was hard for a frog—even a huge one—to feel trust.
They moved to the next container. Halliwell tugged on these cords, trying to look at her without looking like he was looking at her as he said, “Seems a lonely existence. Is there someone back there waiting for you?” What was she doing out there with only a frog for company?
Her eyes widened, the clear blueness of them startling in the dim bay. “No,” she admitted. “I suppose I know everyone too well to be interested in that way.” A flush stained the edges of her cheekbones.
“Close quarters can breed intimacy or contempt,” Halliwell said, thinking of his last ambassador and ignoring an inappropriate sense of relief. He had something of the same problem. Even if he could have dated within his crew…it was possible to know too much about everyone. He studied her, aware that he didn’t know much about her, except that he liked looking at her and listening to her talk. He turned his gaze down, pulling at the webbing harder than was necessary. While Picard might have had some romantic moments on his holiday, Halliwell was not here to get a date.
She half sighed. “I did mention it is boring. It’s like a bad plot in a story.”
Halliwell chuckled, though he wasn’t sure why he was surprised she was a reader. Everyone needed something to do in the boring parts of space travel.
“I haven’t read a lot of stories from this system,” he admitted. He hadn’t really thought about it much, and when he did, he assumed language would be a barrier. Did they have genres? His preference was for military-themed adventures, but he’d been known to pick up suspense with romantic overtones. And he’d read anything sci-fi, with or without romance.
“What do you like to read?” he asked. It was less lame than asking about her favorite color or food. Maybe.
“I will read any story,” she admitted, a light coming into her eyes. “It amazes me what someone can imagine and then write that imagined story down.” She sounded almost wistful. The light in her eyes faded to troubled.
Was she a hopeful writer? They had a few in the fleet who released digital versions of their stories on the shipnet. Someone had to vet them for classified material before they could release them back on Earth, but there’d been some good stuff in the ship’s digital library. They had some budding filmmakers, too, but they’d been pretty restricted until they found the Kikk Outpost. The films also had to be vetted carefully.
“Do you write or tell stories?” he asked.
She looked startled and shook her head. “No.” She hesitated, then said more firmly. “Of course not.”
He nodded, moving with her to the next container. “If you could do what you wanted, what would you do?” Was this the real reason for this gambit? He could respect and understand if she just wanted to be free of such a narrow existence.
Her eyes widened and her actions became absent-minded.
“Would you stay with Scoyfol?” he asked when she didn’t speak.
The shake of her head was sharp, almost instinctive. “No.”
Her gaze met his and the almost desperation in there shook him—and filled him with a desire to help her, to do something to change that look.
“Whatever the outcome of this…gamble…this will be my last journey for Scoyfol,” she said.
He felt a chill. “Will you be punished for bringing us in?”
“It is possible I will exiled.” This did not seem to trouble her.
“But they won’t…hurt you or imprison you?” he persisted.
“What prison could be worse than all of this?” She said the words matter-of-factly now. “If they spaced me out an airlock I would be grateful. Some stories should end.”
“But they wouldn’t?”
“I am not aware of anyone receiving such a punishment,” she said.
“Would you know?”
She nodded. “I’m sure you know how gossip travels aboard ships?”
It was true it was difficult to keep secrets aboard a ship. But it wasn’t impossible.
He felt an odd urge to go around the container and take her in his arms. He didn’t, of course, but it brought up old memories of the young man who wouldn’t have hesitated to try to hug the girl. That young man had been more willing to risk his heart, though that young man had not known his future would lead him to another galaxy. If he’d had a wife, he’d never have been given this command.
“We have taken in refugees,” he said. This felt too much, too fast, so he added, “What would happen to Blooban without you?” Oh great, nothing like playing the frog card.
Her smile was bright in the dim bay and she chuckled, sending an unfamiliar warmth through him. And why shouldn’t he look and wish, even hope a little? It was February back on earth and on Kikk spring was coming.
“He would be glad for a change, to be free of…” She made a vague gesture.
The way she said the word free sent a pang through his heart.
“The ties that bind us are sometimes only in our minds,” he said gently. “We just have to find the courage to walk away.” He hesitated, then added, “I do not think you are short on courage.”
“Courage? I risked much in bringing you this far,” she said, not defensively, but thoughtfully. “It is duty that holds me to my task.” Her gaze was so wistful. “Duty…”
He hesitated, then walked around the container and covered her restless hands with his.