Humans spanned the stars. Empires rose, each holding countless stars of their own. Noone wanted for anything. Then worlds began to go dark.
20 years later, the surviving remnants of humanity sail through the Andromeda Galaxy with no way home and no...
The heat bleeding off from the nape of his neck brought Shea back to a semblance of clarity. Shea had known the girl was putting on an act, but he didn't expect her to own up to it and play things straight. He almost gained a small glimmer of respect for her with that. Almost.
Now she sat there, almost the model image of a Nordic diplomat. But he could tell by the small little slips that she was in some part the cocky, naive, young sergeant she pretended to be. In truth, he actually found himself glad at that. The so-called military industrial complex of the pre-expansion era during the twenty-first century had only grown to become more like a military industrial empire in the following centuries. He had seen too many young faces show a weariness beyond their years, caught up in wars with hopes of a big paycheck, or grand adventures in the stars. He had nearly been one of them, all that time ago.
The set of her shoulders was just a little too far back, and she sat just a little too straight, resulting in just the smallest occasional twitch or tremor, as if she'd been holding a plank and was just starting to strain. The tendons in her neck stood out just a bit more than would seem relaxed. Most looking at her would never notice, but Shea could see the faint mix of youth, inexperienced, and too eager to meet expectations to the point they risked falling short. He could remember times in his youth that he had looked exactly the same.
Honestly, take away the long blonde hair and military uniform, and he could almost see himself sitting in front of the research committee back when he got his first PhD. The other TA's in the department had all made him sit and watch the video recording back, subjecting him to relive the most stressful ninety minutes of his life up until that point all while they laughed raucously behind him and kept a running commentary.
It was probably that memory flashing back to him more than anything else that cooled him down, a blessing if he was honestly hoping to not get dressed down by Hannibal again. But despite that, that old, bitter kernel of distrust for the INC and career mercenaries like them kept reminding him it was there, flickering away like the embers of a fire that refused to die after a rainstorm. There was far more that put him off to the sergeant and their like after all.
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The tension slowly ebbed between them as they sat there staring at each other for a time, the weight of their collective responsibilities heavy in the air. Doctor Kimura straightened himself back up in his chair as well, the tightness standing out from his jaw and neck making it clear how hard he was having to work to compose himself.
"I can accept that, Sergeant. Regardless of my opinions on the INC, you have done well by your station and yourself. I mean that sincerely." The truth of that statement was clear in the tone of his voice, and he nearly let out a small chuckle when he saw the tiny twitch of surprise that showed on her face as his comment caught her off-guard.
They talked for a while longer, and although it was primarily small talk, Freyja could tell that the doctor was testing her. He prodded her with different questions and statements, slipped into their supposedly innocuous conversation. The most interesting part by far though was that as the conversation went on, Freyja started to suspect that he was intentionally not pushing too hard. It almost felt familiar in a way. She thought back to her earliest days training and how her drill instructor would push her just enough to see how she could handle herself, but never enough to actually do harm. It almost felt like she was sitting across from an estranged father figure more than a complete stranger.
