Imposition (7 page)
Authors: Juniper Gray
"Un-ranked,” he told them. They both just looked at him.
"What does that mean?"
"It means I haven't earned a rank yet. I am part of the general rabble. A trainee, I guess. We have no title."
"Wait—if you're un-ranked—and in black uniform—are you Imperial?"
Yes, Therse looked very promising indeed.
"Imperial?” Genham repeated, trying his best not to appear intimidated after learning that the man he was interrogating was part of an elite specialist force. His best wasn't nearly good enough to fool Meitou.
"Don't look so worried, I'm perfectly harmless,” Meitou lied.
"Who said I needed reassuring?"
"Some things you don't have to say out loud."
Meitou found that his voice irritated Genham most when it was rich and honeyed. Genham seemed to fight it as much as he was able, at least figuring out that Meitou was playing him like a fiddle. “So if we're both Lieutenants, that makes us your superior officers,” Genham said.
Meitou allowed himself to show his amusement. “Navy and Imperial ranks are hardly equivalent. Didn't you figure that out from our little altercation in the corridor? Or did I misunderstand your Navy ‘welcoming’ customs?"
Genham ground his teeth, the muscles working in the sides of his face, but he pressed on, appearing to find his stride despite the probes and taunts. “How many more are on your ship?"
"It's just me."
"You're on your own?"
"That's what ‘just me’ means, yes."
He saw Therse stifle a giggle as Genham only grew more irate. Meitou was finding his buttons with increasing ease and regularity. It wouldn't be long before he tipped over.
Therse saw this too and stepped in. “What are you doing here?"
Meitou smiled back at him, fixing Therse's rich brown eyes again. He noticed Genham look at them both in turn. “I'm just stopping on the way to my next post. We decided we'd use your ship and hitch-hike for a bit, seeing as you're headed in the right direction for the most part."
"'We?'” Genham snorted, folding his arms and wincing. “I thought you said it was just you."
"I meant the ship.” Meitou pointed upwards.
"You decide things with your ship?” Genham said, looking over his shoulder at Therse as though he was expected to share in the ridicule. He just stared back at Genham blankly.
"Yes,” Meitou replied, dead-pan. Genham didn't quite know what to do with himself.
And then Therse came out with a question he honestly wasn't expecting; a question that, in Meitou's mind, sealed the man's fate. “Why are we going faster?"
He was impressed, but he didn't let it show. “My ship has made some modifications to the engines of this vessel, so they can run at greater capacity. You should now arrive at your destination at least a week sooner."
"And I take it you'll be with us for most of that time?"
He couldn't see any reason to withhold information they'd come to find out anyway. “It's possible.” He smirked, and added, “Though I make no promises."
An interesting mixture of things passed across Therse's face. Things that would need to be teased out, one by one.
Genham, though, had had enough. “This is bullshit,” he muttered to Therse and turned to leave.
"Gen,” Therse said, trying to catch him by the arm as he went, but it was yanked away. A very intimate gesture, Meitou thought.
That left just the two of them. Therse looked awkward for a second or two, then peered back at him.
"Sorry about him.” He nodded his head in the direction Genham had taken. “Therse Bodan, Navy Lieutenant.” They shook hands. Therse had a good, strong grip. “Shall I show you around?"
Meitou was one of those men gifted with a certain presence, Therse decided. The type who could command the attention of a room full of people when he walked in. The type of man you'd accept even the worst of orders from with a grateful smile. The type of man you could never forget.
He reminded Therse of Gen somehow, though the similarity was only fleeting before he dismissed it. Meitou was slightly taller, slightly broader, certainly more mature, and with an air of intrigue that spoke of plentiful experience doing interesting things. The Imperial was calm on the surface, like a mill pond. Composed and controlled and entirely self-assured.
It made Therse wonder if the surface was hiding turbulent currents underneath. Currents that might pull you in and suck you down if you weren't careful.
Then he realized why the similarity was bothering him: Meitou was almost Gen as Therse pictured him in about five years’ time.
Therse stole another glance over at Meitou as the man gazed out of the corridor windows into empty space. Meitou's uniform was matte-black from head to toe, made of sharp, deliberate angles, just like his ship, and trimmed around the collar and lapels with flecks of gold braiding. Therse would have thought they'd reserve that kind of embellishment for commanders rather than waste it on ‘un-ranked’ soldiers, but who was he to judge. He knew next to nothing about that wing of the military outside of their suspect recruit selection methods, secrecy, and occasional use of brutal military force.
His mind extrapolated the amount of gold on Meitou's jacket to what their highest commanders must wear when in full regalia, and conjured up images of gilt admirals blinding entire fleets with their uniformed magnificence. Gen would have liked that one.
But Gen wasn't here.
Therse couldn't stop staring. Meitou was stupidly, ridiculously attractive; fair skin and scraped-back blond hair, piercing blue eyes set in features best described by the cliche ‘chiseled'. A hint of stubble grew around the two tiny shadows of scar tissue along his jaw. Just enough rough to make him seriously intriguing.
Just being near him was making Therse's heart race. Their shoulders brushed, only lightly, so much as to be a near-miss, and it sent a blush streaming across Therse's cheeks. He hated how easily he embarrassed sometimes and turned away to hide it.
Then he remembered himself, and realized neither of them had said anything for a fair few minutes, and he was supposed to be giving a tour. “There's not much more to it, I'm afraid,” he offered, gesturing along the corridor.
"And you say it used to be a warship?"
"So it says. Not much sign of that now, though."
"Mhm.” Meitou caught Therse looking. “You want to ask me about being an Imperial.” The man smiled at him, beautiful and perfect, fine lines appearing in his pale skin forged from the many times he'd done it before.
Therse scratched at his neck. “Yeah,” he said, reluctant now for some reason. “It's just that you weren't very forthcoming with information in the mess, so..."
"Oh, I was just doing it to wind that guy up. What was his name..?"
"Genham."
"Ah, that's right. ‘Gen', I noticed you called him."
"Yeah, he only likes that from people who know him, though."
"Noted.” Meitou made a wry smile like he'd gained some sort of ammunition.
"So, where are you from, anyway?"
"Shirresh Orbital, originally,” Meitou said, slipping his hands into his pockets. The most relaxed gesture Therse had seen him make yet. “Grew up there and went to military school in the Glier system after genetic selection —"
"I've heard about that. Never knew if it was true or not. Haven't had a chance to ask before,” Therse said eagerly, smiling. He realized he was flirting; overly-obvious and rusty as hell, much to his personal mortification. He shook the expression from his face and resolved to maintain a professional attitude. It was unlikely a man like that was eligible anyway, or would want anything to do with him. “It's odd that only people with a certain genetic make-up are allowed in, though."
"Why? Makes perfect sense to me.” Meitou's full lips settled into a semi-smile. “Athletes, intellectuals; all are more likely to carry certain forms of certain genes that predispose them to success in those pursuits. Logical to extend that to selecting for an advanced military force."
"How do they know, though? I don't remember ever being tested."
"There isn't any ‘test'. Space Central Hub has a complete genetic record of all citizens. If you have what's needed for Imperial selection, they'll make contact at puberty. You get a choice whether to join or not, but who in their right mind would pass up an opportunity like that?"
"So the rest of us are just the left over dregs who join the substandard military by choice, eh?"
"Something like that."
"Why separate the two forces, though? Why not have the Imperials be part of the Navy? Seeing as everyone's at the ultimate command of the Hub anyway."
"The reason for that is...long and dull and political. Put simply, your Command and our Command don't get on very well. Inferiority complex on the part of your top brass, if you ask me. We just get on and do our jobs."
"I'm sure you're not biased in any way."
"Moi?” Meitou feigned offense.
Therse laughed and tried very hard not to enjoy himself too much.
"So, where are you and your friend headed?"
"We're coming back from a years’ outpost at Epsilon, headed to Gogh to rendezvous with some of our other friends from the Navy training corps, then redeploying to Carbera.” Then he remembered. “Well, I might not be, but —"
"Oh?"
"I've had an offer to join Navy Central Command.” Meitou studied him carefully, and he blushed again. “You look less than thrilled about it."
"No, I'm really happy. It's what I've always wanted, so..."
"Feeling guilty about leaving your crew-mate behind?"
The man was impressively astute. “Something like that..."
"You've known each other for a while then, you and Gen?"
"Yeah. I've known him for about five years. Though we haven't always been on friendly terms."
"How come?"
"The reason for that is also long and dull.” Therse laughed. “Let's just say we haven't always seen eye-to-eye."
"You seem to get along well enough now though.” Therse got the distinct feeling he was under scrutiny.
"Yeah, I guess we do.” He smiled, remembering the other day in the biohabitat. Remembering the feeling of Gen under his fingertips. “How about you, where are you headed?"
Meitou grinned. “Couldn't possibly say.” Therse smirked and shook his head. “But like I said, we're only hitching a lift. We're not going to be with you all the way to Gogh, it's just that... your ship's engines can run a little faster than mine...with the correct modifications."
Therse narrowed his eyes. “Oh yeah,” he said, leaning in and speaking in a hushed voice. “What's with your ship?"
"What do you mean?” Meitou said, puzzled.
"It seems a bit...
eccentric
."
Meitou just smiled at him. “All our ship AIs are like that. That's just how they're generated. Navy and Imperial AIs are a little different. The side effect of that engineering is that they're quite talkative."
"So I see."
"You get used to it. Though they can be a pain in the arse from time-to-time,” Meitou announced loudly, as though to someone else who might have been listening in on their conversation.
"Will you be staying on your own ship or staying here?"
"Probably here, I don't see why not. May as well make a break of it while I've got the opportunity.” Their shoulders brushed again as Therse came to a stop, only this time the contact was definite. Meitou looked at him. He looked away quickly, avoiding Meitou's gaze.
Therse felt awkward all of a sudden. “Well, this is my stop,” he said, pointing a thumb at the door. “If you have any more questions I'm sure the ship—
your
ship, will -"
"Thanks,” Meitou said, smiling. The sort of smile that answered some of the questions Therse really wanted to ask.
He felt the blush spreading to his body.
Gen shuffled sulkily up the corridor to Therse's quarters, replaying their conversation with the Imperial earlier. The guy was an elitist, obviously. Gen could tell that just from the way he carried himself, all airs and composure. And from that smart, sharp tongue. He was seriously annoyed at himself for getting so irritated so easily and for losing his usual cool. He couldn't quite tell what it was about Meitou that put him so badly out of joint, and he was still ruminating on it as he neared Therse's door.
Perhaps it was the man's overwhelming arrogance, the way he'd showed up uninvited
and made himself at home aboard
their
ship. The way he'd just taken over everything. Whatever it was, Gen was sure it would all be clearer after he'd talked it through with Therse. Most things were.
He wafted a hand at the door console and the door slid open. They'd decided from the start of the voyage that locks were unnecessary, and he'd gotten used to just wandering in whenever he wanted.
The first words of his sentence got only halfway out of his mouth before they shriveled and died on his tongue. For a moment, he was paralyzed by shock, unable to move, only capable of staring drop-jawed at the proceedings he'd disturbed.
Then he regained his senses enough to turn back out into the corridor, managing a mumbled “Sorry, I didn't —” until the thread of that sentence too became lost in the churning mire of his mortified embarrassment.
He did the only thing that made any sense at the time and ran off down the hall.
Therse called out, but Gen pretended not to hear him.
The next time Gen saw Meitou was always going to feel far too soon. It was the morning after, in the mess hall. Meitou sidled over to where Gen was sitting, smooth and relaxed, as though he wasn't fazed by Gen's interruption the previous night in the slightest. Gen remembered them fucking again and blushed deeply.
"Morning,” Meitou said with a smile, approaching the coffee machine.
Gen grunted in reply. It was all he felt like.
"Coffee. Black.” He heard the man say.
The little machine did nothing.
"
Coffee. Black,
” Meitou repeated, with careful enunciation.
"You have to...” Gen muttered, making a prodding gesture.