Coodi meets me at the entrance of the Nest, ready to execute. She lifts her chin and nods as I stalk past her into the fluttering activity. SCOPE doesn't acknowledge me. Their quiet words flood the comms. I shut them off only for their muttering to return beyond my earpiece.
"What happened?" Hayomo's slicing voice spins me on my heel. I face her on her platform. She sneers with the distrusting glare infinitely more prominent than before and for some reason, this time, instead of flinching or scrambling to appease her impossible standards, I stand my ground. "We just had a conversation about your activity on this ship and no more than a few hours later, you create more ways to put ARC10 to ruins. How can anyone be this drawn to failure?"
"There was an incident."
"I can see that, Lorn. But why was it handled like a one-legged drunk handles a minefield?"
We're supposed to be partners in this endeavor. We're supposed to be together, but she sits in her office, away from the pain all day long while I'm left to do the grunt work for the both of us. There's supposed to be a leveled distribution, but it's not there. It's me, Coodi, and the VIPERs and we're the only ones handling this flailing freighter as it pummels down in flames.
"What I do has been infinitely more than what you've done so far, Pama. At least I'm down here, handling the mess, trying to resolve our issues that I'm not even sure you're fully aware of no matter how much I try and bring you in. You have done nothing this entire voyage."
She stomps down the stairway, maybe to hit me, maybe to level with me, maybe to throw me out the airlock, I don't know. But when she's standing before me, the tip of my distended belly barely gracing her uniform, she kills me with her glare.
"You don't know a dirty speck of what I've done so far." She spits the words out through clenched teeth. "You couldn't even fathom the sacrifices, the pain, the blood, the agony I've caused and endured to get us here. Your unworthy ass is alive because of me, Lorn. My job is done. I was under the impression that you were skilled enough to handle this on your own, but I was so savagely mistaken. This may have been the biggest mistake of my career—letting you on this ship in any capacity but lunchmeat."
My stomach turns at her words.
"Get out of my sight." She points to the exit.
Being told off by a superior is one thing—being dismissed like a child before your entire command is another. My heart smolders with shame and my skin pebbles in remorse. One more bad decision. I should have never opened my mouth.
We don't break eye contact. This is a game. Predatory Chicken. Who will remain on top? Who will acquiesce?
I avert my eyes to the SCOPE technicians who snap back to their consoles.
She lifts her chin. "I will clean up your mess one more time. But after that, we aim for port and I will be glad to be rid of you once and for all."
I can't respond. I won't respond again. Instead, I leave the Nest, my head up, my shoulders squared, and every scrap of dignity I can muster stitched together to keep me from falling apart.
Descending the lift, gripping the bar with clenched fists, I force myself to continue watch over the horizon of the ship. I have failed and I have failed with the force of exploding suns.
The bar under my hands feels oily, but I know it's not because the metal itself is slick — it's my fingers with residue of Brother Armand between them. When I bring them up for inspection, there's nothing but the brown tint of my skin, stubbed nails, and blue hologram. No blood. None that I can see. It must have already seeped into my pores, soaked through my skin to wet my bones.
There's nowhere to go but back. Back to my cabin where I can wait for tomorrow to try again.
I'm tired of making waves.
The passageway to my cabin is lightless and desolate. The walk seems longer and more lonely than ever before. The solace I'd usually find surrounded by Dean's things makes me cringe now. I would never want him to see this thing I've become. Instead, I turn to head back to the one place I feel comfortable.
I head to the room with the view—the one that reminds me I'm so small and insignificant in comparison to the greater schemes. It's what I need. Standing alone, I watch the steadfast lights pepper the inky black night. I wish I could step right out into those lights, step into them and fall into their vast world. At first, floating into space, I thought it was a nightmare — but the longer I stay on ARC10, the longer I'm proved that I'm absolutely the biggest disaster since the Invaders— it sounds like a dream.
I want to walk into the universe and disappear.
My son moves.
One jostle — one swift kick around my ribs and my thoughts suddenly shift inward.
"I'm sorry," I whisper again. "I feel like all I have to offer are apologies. You're probably so sick of the word "sorry." You've heard it so much in your life already." Leaning against the wall and resting a hand over the bump, I return my gaze to the stars. "I told you you're stuck with me. Looks like that's going to be a shittier bargain than either of us anticipated."
Sinking down into the corner of the room where I have the biggest and best view of the solar system as we cruise, I rest my head and try to think as hard as my brain power will churn.
What would Dean say if he saw me here, sitting on the floor, steeped in self-pity? His phantom words infiltrate my mind.
"That's not self-pity," he would say. "You fucked up, and that's okay. The best of us do."
"Even you, Captain Perfection?"
"I'm the exception."
I'd make room on the floor for him so his large frame could squeeze between me and the unexpected indents of the walls.
"You've never been good at this type of thing?"
"What?" I'd ask, closing my eyes and resting my head against the wall.
"Letting people help."
"I don't need help. Once I figure out how to fix this, I'll be fine."
"I know. You're Commander Janika Lorn, the bravest Reaper the world has ever seen. She'll shoot lasers from her eyes before she lets you see that she's just as human as the rest of us." He leans in, his chest level with my eyes. I kick my legs out in front of me and tug at a stray string on my frayed dress.
He has a point.
"If you were here, I'd ask for it." I can't even look up at the image of Dean that I'd concocted in my head. I've become such a shameful shadow of my old self, he wouldn't recognize me if I looked up anyway.
He stretches his legs out that extend way past mine.
He'd tap my booth rhythmically with his leg, taking a slow beat as I try to hide the small smile behind the long strands of brown waves that have closed around my face.
"There will be plenty of shit to deal with in the morning. You should sleep."
I slide to the side to lean into his ghost. He's not there, so I keep falling. The floor's metal is chilled, like sleeping on cool rocks after a long rain.
Just before I drift off into a heavy slumber, I feel the heat of the room increase from a shadowed source on my left.