saltwater. Reesa's hair was something Kate was openly envious of. Bountiful was a good word for it, though her friend kept the wavy locks subdued in some form of ponytail.
Reesa kept frowning at the paperwork littered against the walls, talking about complicated plot points and issues with the timeline of her novels.
"I keep seeing this blurry picture of her," Reesa said. It took a moment for Kate to remember they were talking about patient zero. "She's darker, I can see that. White jackets keep huddling around her. I can recognize a sort of desperation in her eyes, but other than that, I have no idea who she is."
"Maybe you're asking the wrong questions," Kate started clearing off the table. "Instead of asking who she is, ask what she wants. Isn't that Creative Writing 101?"
"I don't know," Reesa began pulling pages off the walls and adding them to the growing pile on the table. "I never took a creative writing class."
"If I didn't know how psychotic you are, I'd hate you. Do you have any idea how many unpublished authors there are?"
"Several million, I'm sure. Jake keeps trying to get me to teach a class."
Kate laughed as a sudden vision of Reesa at the front of a classroom came to mind; "How to embrace psychosis?"
Realizing she'd just voiced her thoughts, Kate glanced at Reesa, ready to give a swift apology if the girl was offended. But she wasn't. Reesa joined the laughter, agreeing with her, and Kate relaxed. There were moments when it felt like Reesa was far away, not really in touch with reality, but to Kate's relief she seemed to realign with the present. It was a common occurrence, but Kate was always struck with an eerie sort of feeling whenever it happened. Daydreaming shouldn't be considered dangerous and yet, when it came to Reesa, it was.
Almost like there was an inner battle to stay in reality, as though one day Reesa Zimms might never snap out of it.
Kate forced the thought away and smiled, "Now let's make a list of what we need."
***
"This is inane," Myron said from the pilot's chair.
Hedric had been ignoring him for most of the flight, keeping his mind distracted with the mundane tasks of being Captain. Keats had a list of items he wanted, something to try optimizing the Lothogy's speed while maintaining life support. Though Hedric wasn't an engineer or a scientist, he did understand how his ship worked. The double-layered hull of charged cobalt maintained a pressured field that protected the internal aluminum shell, keeping the rigors of space travel out. It acted a bit like the atmosphere of a planet, shoving all those little particles away that would otherwise try to rip into the ship.
It could do nothing for the larger elements in space, of course. But then, if it could, there would be no reason for trained pilots like Myron. And Hedric liked Myron on most days, so the idea of putting the man out of a profession wasn't a welcome one. After eighteen hours of complaints, Hedric wondered if taping Myron's mouth shut would upset the man's equilibrium.
If he was honest, he agreed with much of Myron's irritability. His mother's instructions were precise, fed to them inch by inch as they completed each task. She'd even dictated calculations on the weight of each crew member and extra fuel. It was obvious she was hiding something from him until the last moment, but he trusted her enough to push forward. However, not knowing what was coming was maddening.
Myron craned his neck back, twisting a bit so that he could scowl up at him, "Where is she taking us?"
Hedric flicked the switch just to his left, watching the fuel gauge rise on the milky black MEDS screen before answering. The Multi-Electronic Display Subsystem - MEDS -- was illuminated in light blues and whites, touchable for quick commands and linked to the more archaic, physical backup toggles just behind it. A pulsating blue light climbed a white bar, showing him the percentage of ionic fuel as it was loaded into the ship.
He'd allowed the
Reesa kept frowning at the paperwork littered against the walls, talking about complicated plot points and issues with the timeline of her novels.
"I keep seeing this blurry picture of her," Reesa said. It took a moment for Kate to remember they were talking about patient zero. "She's darker, I can see that. White jackets keep huddling around her. I can recognize a sort of desperation in her eyes, but other than that, I have no idea who she is."
"Maybe you're asking the wrong questions," Kate started clearing off the table. "Instead of asking who she is, ask what she wants. Isn't that Creative Writing 101?"
"I don't know," Reesa began pulling pages off the walls and adding them to the growing pile on the table. "I never took a creative writing class."
"If I didn't know how psychotic you are, I'd hate you. Do you have any idea how many unpublished authors there are?"
"Several million, I'm sure. Jake keeps trying to get me to teach a class."
Kate laughed as a sudden vision of Reesa at the front of a classroom came to mind; "How to embrace psychosis?"
Realizing she'd just voiced her thoughts, Kate glanced at Reesa, ready to give a swift apology if the girl was offended. But she wasn't. Reesa joined the laughter, agreeing with her, and Kate relaxed. There were moments when it felt like Reesa was far away, not really in touch with reality, but to Kate's relief she seemed to realign with the present. It was a common occurrence, but Kate was always struck with an eerie sort of feeling whenever it happened. Daydreaming shouldn't be considered dangerous and yet, when it came to Reesa, it was.
Almost like there was an inner battle to stay in reality, as though one day Reesa Zimms might never snap out of it.
Kate forced the thought away and smiled, "Now let's make a list of what we need."
***
"This is inane," Myron said from the pilot's chair.
Hedric had been ignoring him for most of the flight, keeping his mind distracted with the mundane tasks of being Captain. Keats had a list of items he wanted, something to try optimizing the Lothogy's speed while maintaining life support. Though Hedric wasn't an engineer or a scientist, he did understand how his ship worked. The double-layered hull of charged cobalt maintained a pressured field that protected the internal aluminum shell, keeping the rigors of space travel out. It acted a bit like the atmosphere of a planet, shoving all those little particles away that would otherwise try to rip into the ship.
It could do nothing for the larger elements in space, of course. But then, if it could, there would be no reason for trained pilots like Myron. And Hedric liked Myron on most days, so the idea of putting the man out of a profession wasn't a welcome one. After eighteen hours of complaints, Hedric wondered if taping Myron's mouth shut would upset the man's equilibrium.
If he was honest, he agreed with much of Myron's irritability. His mother's instructions were precise, fed to them inch by inch as they completed each task. She'd even dictated calculations on the weight of each crew member and extra fuel. It was obvious she was hiding something from him until the last moment, but he trusted her enough to push forward. However, not knowing what was coming was maddening.
Myron craned his neck back, twisting a bit so that he could scowl up at him, "Where is she taking us?"
Hedric flicked the switch just to his left, watching the fuel gauge rise on the milky black MEDS screen before answering. The Multi-Electronic Display Subsystem - MEDS -- was illuminated in light blues and whites, touchable for quick commands and linked to the more archaic, physical backup toggles just behind it. A pulsating blue light climbed a white bar, showing him the percentage of ionic fuel as it was loaded into the ship.
He'd allowed the
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