Lost in Translation

[Cassie Granger 0]

Lost in Translation

A Granger-Silver log

 

<Continued from "Frankly my dear, it's just a ship.">

 

The galley was active and it smelled like a mixture of last night’s dinner, approaching breakfast and years of meals before, but there wasn’t much available for the midwatch. A plate of cold cuts, sliced bread, apples, bug juice and old coffee. Also a few slices of pie if you didn’t want to make a sandwich. Or dry cereal; the milk dispenser was empty.

 

Cass grabbed a cup of coffee, nuked it, and chose a table off the beaten path while Gage grabbed an apple and glass of fruit punch kool-aid. “That ain’t gonna help,” he remarked, gesturing at her steaming mug as he sat across from her.

 

“Yeah, well, don’t think I’ll be drinking much.” She sniffed it, winging him a glance. “If this were a ship at sea I’d say they made it with bilge water.” Gage smirked, apparently recognizing the reference.

 

Cass cradled the cup between her hands and gave its contents considerable scrutiny before pushing it away. “Yeah, not going to be drinking much.”

 

“Got something on your mind,” Gage reluctantly ventured. “What is it, Cass?”

 

Hands wiping down her face, they pausing at her chin before resting on the table. “Remembering Viper Strike,” she began wearily, her voice low. “Remembering what we talked about in New Topeka.” After a moment she leaned back, her tone resolute.

 

“You gave me a hell of a scare back there,” she said.

 

“I did?”

 

“Yeah,” she continued, studying his face. “And from that look I'm guessing you don’t have a clue why.”

 

Gage shrugged, giving her that look. Thought that’s why I asked.

 

“Your face was pale,” she began, like she was reciting something out of a text book. “It was contorted. You hadn’t taken a breath for several minutes. Didn’t look like apnea; it looked like...,” she stopped short, unable to say it.

 

“Like I was dead? Sure,” he gibingly finished, smirking at her expense. “Got an overactive imagination there, Cass.”

 

She froze, staring, mixed emotions from his BS playing on her face. “And now I’m trying to figure out if I should kill you myself or say yes.”

 

Gage briefly fell silent and his smirk vanished. “Wow. Kill me or say yes? Can’t tell you which one I like better,” he retorted somewhere between impish and sincere.

 

She looked away, dejected, but her jaw remained taut with repeated clenching as she thought something through. After several minutes she turned back, pushed herself to a stand and reached for her cup.

 

“Sorry I bothered you, sir. Think I’d better go,” she said quietly, then turned and left.

 

Gage watched her walk out and frowned at the turn. Yes was a hard word to hear. Their attempt to figure things out had ended in a stalemate almost two months ago. They hadn’t had a moment alone since. Felt like a long time and not much had changed. She was still pussyfooting, only this time death was the alternative instead of a simple no and it sounded like a bad joke. No would’ve been easier to deal with.

 

It happened on the day that was supposed to be his last assigned to the Creek. A messenger showed up announcing that a shuttle was waiting to transport him to the Creek berthed in orbit of New Topeka. He’d no sooner dismissed the crewman when there was a second knock at the door. He opened it expecting to see the messenger again. There was Cass whom he hadn’t seen or heard from after that day on the beach. She’d been thinking things over, she said, and wanted to talk in private.

 

She admitted then that she was attracted to him, too. Emotionally, intellectually, physically: she wasn’t sure. But she hadn’t considered a relationship before and wasn’t sure she wanted one or that it’d work. She didn’t want to pursue something superficial, did she? She doubted that he really meant what she remembered him saying. Suggested they should keep their minds open to the possibility that their feelings were just a reaction to recent traumatic events. They should think things over carefully, given he was transferring and both had careers to consider. She just didn’t know: it was too much to process and she couldn’t make a decision. She couldn’t think of a good reason to if they weren’t going to be on the same ship much less the same sector.

 

No one questioned why the shuttle’s departure was delayed by a little over half an hour, but he sort of wished they had. He was conflicted; found it hard to think clearly with Cass around. He couldn’t make peace with the risks she faced and being there to witness her injuries or death was a personal kind of nightmare. But he couldn’t fight how he felt; trying just magnified the problem.

 

His meeting with Captain – scratch that – Commander Calestorm on the Creek didn’t help the situation. He had no choice but to work with her, and on learning that his report date had been pushed back indefinitely, Cass balked. Don’t force her to make a decision she might regret: she needed time and space to think. They agreed to remain professional and parted in an awkward silence that hadn’t waned for Gage.

 

Yes meant he had to admit that he hadn’t understood what Cass really said that day. He’d only heard her doubt and reluctance. It stayed with him, chafing while she’d carried on like there was nothing between them and added insult to injury. He’d begun to accept that an answer, favorable or no, wasn’t coming. Convinced that for some reason she just wanted to ignore the situation until he was gone, and ready to tell her he frankly didn’t give a damn. That amounted to a lot of disappointment, frustration and pride to forget all at once.

 

“Cass,” he called out as he passed into the corridor, jogging to catch her.

 

The turbolift door had just opened. She looked in, then stared indifferently down the corridor at Gage.

 

“Hold up, Cass,” he said, blocking her exit with his arm. “How was I supposed to know you were serious?”

 

Cass stared at the closing door. “Oh, I don’t know,” she retorted sarcastically. “Maybe because I was worried when you weren’t breathing. Maybe because I wasn’t laughing, wasn’t smiling, wasn’t even close to making a joke.”

 

“Cass, I stopped trying to make sense of what’s going on,” he tried to explain.

 

“Maybe that’s the problem,” she continued, “making sense of it. Been trying to make sense of a lot of things lately and it’s not happening. Figured most of the universe doesn’t make sense, so the hell with it.”

 

His arm dropped. “So you were waiting it out until I left.”

 

“Didn’t know what else to do,” she gave a half-hearted shrug. “It seemed easier, but it wasn’t. Made everything harder, because....” frustrated, she let it hang.

 

The lift returned, forcing her to move aside for a few exiting. She stepped away from his roadblock and moved to the end of the corridor.

 

“Yeah, guess it did,” he cynically replied, ignoring the three filing out of the lift behind him. “You left me hanging, acted like nothing happened ‘cause you’re afraid to say no. Harsh, Cass.”

 

“No,” she corrected. “Could’t say no. Didn’t know how to say yes. Still don’t.”

 

“Noticed,” he shot back, fixing her with a hard look. He shook his head, frowning a thin line.

 

“No,” he resolved and closed in, hand shooting to the bulkhead and blocking her into a corner. “You’re not getting off that easy this time.”

 

Out of reflex she plastered herself against the wall. Arms raised and every sense on full alert, her eyes automatically darted around to gauge his strategy and look for an opening. Her body tensed and she struggled to contain her fists.

 

He leaned in close, half-smirking out of long-standing frustration. “You’re gonna say something if I have to drag it out of you,” he lowly warned and, catching her raised hands in his, he kissed her. Damn the spectators and protocols.

 

Cass gasped, the sound quickly stifled by his lips meeting hers. Her first thought was how the hell does he expect me to say something with my mouth covered, but it wasquickly replaced by oh, what the hell.... Slowly, she began to yield, refusing to make sense of it, refusing to think of anything but the moment.

 

Giving her a second to catch her breath, he mischievously grinned, his mood improving as her reaction told him what she couldn't. "Hell, talking's overrated," he decided and tightly pulled her close, kissing her again.

 

She seemed ready to both float away and melt in his arms when he snuck a glance at his watch. Two hours before your next shift can feel like a long time on a ship if you're not busy.

 

But not long enough.