22. Two Kinds of Difficult
TWENTY-TWO
TWO KINDS OF DIFFICULT
The shift had been gradual enough that Charlie almost missed it.
But in the past week, two Engineering crew members had come to her directly with diagnostic questions, bypassing Cael's console entirely.
It wasn't conspiratorially or as part of a rebellion against the mediocre Engineering Chief.
They had simply consulted Charlie at her station because Charlie had better answers.
This path of least resistance had quietly rerouted around the Chief Engineer like water finding a new channel.
But Cael was taking notice. He didn't say anything about it, but his markings had run amber for the rest of the shift.
His skin had said everything for him.
The other shift that began didn't bypass Charlie in the slightest. And Charlie was still debating on whether or not she wished it did.
It started when Reyna sat one chair closer during the morning briefing.
It wasn't crossing the table to sit beside her. Just one seat over from where she usually sat, which put her close enough that Charlie could hear her breathe when the room went quiet between agenda items.
Two months ago, Charlie wouldn't have noticed.
Two weeks ago, she probably would have noticed, followed by 'nope.
' But now, Charlie had memories. The Observation Room, the bench, and the two inches.
And though Charlie didn't want to admit it, she had the night she fell asleep to Chrissie Hynde asking the exact question Charlie was refusing to answer.
She noticed. She sat in that briefing, feeling the proximity in her spine. This is what trouble feels like from the inside.
In a corridor the following morning while heading to Engineering, Charlie heard footsteps fall into pace beside her.
Reyna appeared, matching her stride without speaking.
They walked together for forty meters before Reyna turned off toward the bridge with a nod and a "Wickett" as a departure, and somehow that was worse, because Charlie had counted the meters, and she knew exactly why she had counted the meters.
During a meal in the galley the next day, Reyna took the seat beside Charlie.
Sat down, picked up her utensil, and then looked over and bumped Charlie's shoulder with a smile, the same way she had that first night in the Observation Room, before turning to the group and joining the conversation as if this was where she'd always sat.
The table kept talking. Yet Charlie heard none of it.
Her left arm, the one closest to Reyna, became the most alert limb on her body for the duration of the meal. She'd had that arm for twenty-nine years and it had never once betrayed her like this.
But none of that compared to what happened at the habitat console. She couldn't tell you what day of the week it was. But she could tell you the exact second it started.
Charlie had been recalibrating the thermal regulators in the Canoplyn Glider habitat when Reyna came through on her rounds.
She checked on habitats regularly, especially after new rescues.
She was reviewing data at the opposite console when Charlie hit a secondary reading she wanted a second opinion on.
The membrane sensitivity values were holding, but there was a variance in the backup regulator that sat just outside the margin she was comfortable with.
"Captain, could you take a look at this?" Charlie called, without thinking. Without thinking about anything at all, including the fact that her console was exactly wide enough for two people if neither of them breathed.
Reyna came around to Charlie's side, leaned in to look at the readout, and her forearm settled against Charlie's.
Kaelari skin was warm, warmer than human skin.
Not by much, but in a way that would translate to a fever in humans.
Charlie had actually known this abstractly since her first handshake with Reyna when she arrived on the Emberkind.
But knowing it from a handshake and feeling it pressed against three inches of her forearm turned out to be a completely different science.
Her skin registered the contact before her brain caught up. Her pulse adjusted. Her breathing followed. And then her brain arrived, two full seconds late with a Nope. As if 'nope' had been working at all for her in the first place.
She was thinking about this. She was absolutely, catastrophically thinking about this. And she was going to finish this calibration report anyway, with her arm exactly where it was, because the only thing worse than staying would be pulling away and watching Reyna notice.
"The gradient curve looks good," Reyna said, her eyes on the screen, her arm still against Charlie's. "You've compensated for the membrane sensitivity?"
"Tapered across a longer window. Same approach as the rescue."
"Good. Pull up the secondary regulator. I want to sign off on the variance before you submit."
So, Charlie pulled up the secondary regulator and Reyna stayed, and that meant standing at this console, reading these numbers, with Reyna's forearm still pressed against hers while Charlie tried to remember how fingers worked.
They adjusted values back and forth. Reyna would point and Charlie would correct.
Reyna asked a question about the backup threshold and Charlie answered it.
Her voice sounded normal, and she was genuinely proud of that.
But it was impossible to ignore that the warmth from Reyna's arm had become the only constant in the room.
Everything else existed at a distance. Reyna was right here.
Reyna approved the final values and Charlie submitted the report.
"Good work, Wickett," Reyna said, and her eyes held Charlie's for a beat longer than the words required.
Then Reyna straightened and her arm left Charlie's. And the absence of that warmth was worse than having had it at all.
"We're doing another Earth Night," Charlie said.
She hadn't actually planned to say that, but her mouth had apparently decided that the absence of Reyna's arm was unacceptable and proceeded to take corrective action.
Reyna turned back. "Oh?"
"Smaller this time. Just a core group. They've been open to everyone so far, but Orion suggested this one be more of a..." Charlie stumbled, but only slightly, trying to find a way to describe the night without sounding intimate. She found her footing. "Just the people who matter to it."
"An intimate evening," Reyna said, and there was a lilt in her voice that Charlie chose to ignore.
Charlie hadn't said 'intimate' out loud, had she? "A small evening."
"Small and intimate," Reyna countered. Again.
Seriously? "Just small," Charlie replied with finality. But she couldn't help the twitch of the smile in the corner of her mouth.
Reyna's eyes were bright. "I'd love to come."
"Good." Charlie nodded. She could be professional, composed. Hell, she was an engineer who had just submitted a perfectly calibrated report and was now extending a perfectly reasonable invitation to her captain. "So. Library, same spot as before."
"I'll be there," Reyna said. Then she turned and walked out of the habitat bay, and Charlie could have sworn she was smiling.
This had gone past trouble. Trouble had an exit. Charlie saw all of it, every inch of where this was heading. She just couldn't stop walking toward it.
The third Earth Night had come and gone quietly not long ago. Music, food, the crew settling into the rhythm of something that had become theirs. Charlie barely had to run it anymore. The tradition had legs of its own.
But the fourth was different.
Orion had been the one to suggest it. Fewer people, tighter circle, a kind of Earth Night where no one had to perform and everyone just got to immerse in what everyone on the Emberkind found intriguing about Earth.
The perspective of Earth in the crew of an alien spaceship was not lost on Charlie.
If anything, it gave her reason to appreciate her planet in a way she never would have without this experience.
Orion had kept the library simple this time, cleared the central floor and laid out the cushions and blankets that Borran had sourced from the habitat stores, low and grounded, the sort of setup that invited people to sit close and stay long.
Borran brought food but, this time, it wasn't a huge spread, just enough for the people who mattered.
And Tavi had decided he would handle the sound, as was to be expected.
It was to pay homage to the group who'd built this thing together.
Tavi, Maren, Borran, and Orion. Borran stood by the food, engaging with those that approached to try samples of his spread.
Orion sat cross-legged on the floor with his datapad, still ready to take notes and collect cultural data for the library.
Selowen had stopped by early and left with a warm nod after she'd learned about farms and how humans would, eventually, eat the animals they cared for. Charlie was no vegetarian but, she understood. Torvax hadn’t attended, which Tavi said was "statistically consistent with his personality. "
Reyna was there, too, with all of them, sitting on the floor with her back against a shelf, her legs stretched out in front of her and boots off.
Right now, she wasn't the Captain. Just Reyna.
She held a cup of Borran's mead between her hands while she laughed at things and asked questions about Earth that were of general interest and not just for educational advancement.
She'd agreed to be there, and she was.
At one point, Tavi was telling a story about rewiring the entertainment system at his previous posting and how he had accidentally broadcasted the Captain's private comm channel to the entire ship for six entire minutes.
Reyna looked downright frightened, prompting some to ask what would happen if her private channel would be broadcast across the Emberkind.
"Nothing," she'd answered quickly. "You'd probably find out I'm very boring."