From the window in the common room, Rebeka peered into the cargo bay and watched Ish go through his assigned chores now that the Lyra was back in normal space. Or more accurately, she watched Ben mimic everything Ish did. Right down to running his hand through non-existent hair. Despite it being a few days since he'd come out of stasis, there was no sign of stubble growing in.
None of the crew could be specialists, small as they were. At the moment, Ish was tasked with running routine diagnostics. And when he checked something on his tablet, the boy checked something on his hand. When he pressed a button on one of the panels, the boy pressed his finger to the wall. When he furrowed his forehead at some off number, the boy did the same.
Rebeka smiled and took a sip of her coffee as the scene tugged at a thread of memory. The kid reminded her of someone else. Then the smile slipped as she realized who: a girl who couldn't get enough of mimicking everything Rebeka did until — she sighed and stared into her mug, swirling the dregs around — well, until the girl wanted nothing more to do with her. As she looked back at Ish and Ben, she chastised herself. Now was not the time to get lost in nostalgia when they still hadn't decided what to do with the boy. She hadn't decided. Although she wasn't a dictator, this was a call she might have to make. All she knew was they needed to get him off the ship if they wanted to get their lives back to normal. Heck, maybe if they wanted their lives to simply continue.
Footsteps sounded behind her, but Rebeka didn't turn around. She knew Alek's footfall well enough. A sound too light for such a muscle-bound man. "Did you finally get some sleep?" she asked before taking another sip of coffee. The footsteps paused, then continued toward the fridge.
"A little," he said. The fridge door opened. "Are you hungry? There's still something green in here." The sound of plastic hitting glass followed as he rummaged inside. "But no bugs." He huffed.
Down below, Ish and Ben left her field of view, and she turned towards Alek. "Intentionally green? We have had some power fluctuations."
He grimaced but nodded. "Yeah, it's meant to be green." He pulled out the package of protein chunks and sniffed them. "Add enough spices and it'll be fine."
A full-throated, feminine laugh echoed down the hall, and they both glanced towards the door. Shortly Ish and Ben tumbled through, the boy giggling about something. They were followed closely by Kandi, who still had a broad smile on her face. As usual, she had a weapon in her hand that apparently needed TLC.
Kandi patted Ben on the back with her free hand. "Have you heard the one about the Lorian and the lady from Adasinga?"
"Kandi!" Rebeka hissed.
"What?" The woman looked at her, eyebrows lifted.
"I don't think that joke is appropriate for a —" Rebeka stopped, realizing she didn't know how old the boy was. "—for a kid."
With flushed cheeks and a wide smile, Ish turned from Kandi to Ben. "Hey, you want to play Kora?" Ish asked the boy, who'd thankfully forgotten the ribald joke Kandi planned to tell. Instead, the boy's attention focused on what Alek was doing. Ben glanced at Ish then up at Alek but didn't move or speak.
Alek turned to the navigator and shrugged.
"Or maybe you want to help Alek cook." Ish smiled, quirking an eyebrow at Alek. "You could do worse than him," he said, winking at the pilot.
Alek flushed. "We had this talk."
"About your cooking? I recall no such conversation." Turning his attention to Ben, he continued. "If you get tired of him bossing you around, I'll be over here." He nodded to the chesterfield, where he proceeded to flop himself, shove the pillow under his head and fling an arm over his eyes.
Rebeka sat down in the armchair, pretending to read the Mintaraen romance on her tablet. Instead, she watched her crew out of the corner of her eye, as the sounds of life washed over her: Alek murmuring instructions to Ben, the sizzle of something hitting the pan, a soft whirr from whatever Kandi was doing to her knife and a snuffling snore from Ish. The ghost of a smile tugged at her lips, and she let it lift the corners.
As time wore on, her head started to nod as the heat from the cooktop filled the room, along with the saliva-inducing aroma of whatever Alek was concocting. More quiet laughter and murmuring chatter served as white noise. Her eyes slid shut, her chin tipping to touch her chest, her tablet coming to rest on her lap.
"Well, isn't this just the picture of a happy family?"
Rebeka's eyes shot open and her head jerked up. The room went quiet, all eyes, including hers, turning to Severn. He leaned against the door jamb, a smile on his face, even though there hadn't been one in his words. He appeared tired, the skin under his eyes the colour of a bruise.
"You look tired," Rebeka said, as she jerked her head towards the armchair. "Why not sit and join us for a bit?"
He turned his gaze to her, and she noted that the smile didn't reach his eyes either. "Sorry, that AI of yours won't fix itself." Rebeka frowned, less from worry about the AI than for Severn.
"Cass?" Ish peered at Severn through half-opened eyes. "What's wrong with Cass?"
"I'm operating within normal parameters, Ishmael. Thank you for asking." The AI's voice grated on Rebeka's nerves...it was too chipper, when her own was ragged from too much coffee and too little sleep over the last 10 days. But she bit her lip; she usually had no problems with the personality algos of the Cass, and after a good night's sleep, she hoped things would be back to normal.
Severn straightened, a frown pulling his face down. "Of course she says that. That's part of the problem." He wiped his hands on a cloth, using a corner to clean under a fingernail. Rebeka didn't understand how comp techs got so dirty. He scanned the room until he got to her. "Well, back to work. No rest for the wicked."
Alek stepped forward, lifting the pan in his hand, as Ben peeked out from behind him. "Are you sure you can't spare a few minutes? Supper's on."
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Cass started speaking again.
"Warning. Collision imminent."
Whatever she said after that was drowned out by the alarms blaring a proximity alert.