– – – – – – – – – –
Epos (Maltia)
6 December 2355
Ethan’s 46th day on Tersain
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“A-hem…” says Jervis, the first to recover from the surprise. “Seems this place is… occupied.”
I’m staring at Dawn, not knowing what to think. She returns my gaze, rather taken aback. As for Nipria, she lets go of my hand, suddenly scarlet.
“What… are you doing here?” I ask.
“It would be more fitting to say… what we were supposed to be doing,” replies Jervis. “But it seems you’ve already got the place occupied.”
“I had to show him how to fight,” Dawn steps in, looking away from me. “Since he’s teaching me how to use firearms.”
“You don’t mind going somewhere else, do you?” adds the rebel. “After all, this is more Dawn’s room than yours, and it’s far too big for certain adolescent matters.”
Naturally, he has interpreted the situation he found us in in the most uncomfortable way. But that only concerns me partly… in truth, I’m far more occupied with recovering from my bewilderment.
I… hadn’t expected Dawn to bring Jervis here. To this very room…
“D’Arcady,” bursts out Nipria, turning even redder. “Stop spouting nonsense…”
“Nonsense?” the rebel repeats, with a grin. “Come now, did I perhaps see wrongly?”
“I… you…”
The artificer takes a deep breath. Then she counters:
“These things are none of your business. Mind your own.”
“I am doing that,” he says, and resting an arm on the shoulders of the young woman beside him, he goes on: “I’m here to see Dawn, not you lot. Maybe watch some of her moves with the staff.”
I narrow my eyes, feeling the acids in my stomach boil. I don’t even know myself what is troubling me the most; inside, I sense a jumble of different emotions piling up and struggling for dominance. Jervis’s manner… his choice of words… the fact that he’s here with Dawn… that damned arm with which he’s touching her… I feel vexation and helplessness at such a scene, because in truth the girl isn’t showing the slightest discomfort, so I must assume she doesn’t mind.
If she endorses this guy’s behaviour… I can’t complain about it. The thing is, though… I want to complain about it. Very much so.
How is it possible that this is making me so nervous?
“Oh, listen to yourself!” snaps Nipria, marching towards Jervis. “Do you think you’re bothering me with that attitude of yours? Yes, you are, but not in the way you’d like! Go ahead and act the handsome one, it won’t work on me!”
“At that age you all get full of yourselves, eh?” he laughs. “Sorry, younger girls are fine, but you’re a bit too young, my lass.”
All the more, my irritation grows. And it’s not just happening to me…
“You…!”
The artificer bursts out, and tries to kick the rebel. Jervis blocks her with ease. She’s about to try again…
… when a fit of coughing stops her. She doubles over. Again and again, for several seconds her body is shaken by violent spasms. Then, once she regains herself a little, she runs off into the corridor.
“… Nipria,” I say, coming back to myself.
Why did she run off? Perhaps she truly isn’t well. I should… I must check on her.
Following her, I pass beside Jervis. At that moment…
“There you go, good,” the young man says. “We’ll need space in here.”
I halt all of a sudden. Still beside the rebel, I turn my head slightly so I can fix him with the corner of my eye. There I am faced with a choice: giving in to the sudden impulse to land him the hardest punch I can muster, or following Nipria, whose coughing and subsequent escape has worried me.
Absurd. How can I harbour such a violent desire? I barely recognise myself! But right now I don’t even care.
“What is it, youngster?” asks Jervis.
Inside me, a brief yet intense struggle takes place. I feel as though, by leaving, I will be letting things unfold as they must… letting Dawn drift away from me. That, indeed, is what unsettles me most: I… have the impression that I’m losing her, leaving her with that fellow. But… she is the one choosing to be with Jervis. It’s her decision, and I… it isn’t for me to do anything about it, other than accept whatever will be.
So, in the end, I avert my gaze… and leave the room. I hear the door close behind me, and with that sound I feel a tightening in my chest and a heavy sense of loss. Perhaps I could still turn back… but I continue walking down the corridor, then break into a run to catch up with the artificer.
I discover I’ve lost her. I then move quickly towards the quarters and knock on the girl’s cabin door.
“Nipria!” I call. “Are you there?”
I hear a bit of commotion, and then the rebel opens the door.
“Ethan?” she says, seeing me.
“Everything alright?” I ask her.
“Oh, don’t worry!” the young woman laughs. “That one makes me furious! I overdid it and choked myself.”
“It’s not like you to run off like that,” I remark. “Are you sure you’re well?”
“Yes, yes, don’t worry!”
She looks at me, smiling.
“Thanks for being concerned!”
I look at her for another few seconds. I don’t know… something in her gaze doesn’t quite convince me. But I can’t insist, either.
I reach out an arm and give her a tap on the head with my hand.
“Come on: of course I worry about you,” I say. “You act all tough that you’d never show if something was wrong.”.
“Do I give you that impression?” the artificer asks.
“A bit… but more with the others. With me you don’t show much of that hard shell.”
“No,” Nipria admits.
In her eyes there is no longer the strange expression I saw on her earlier. What happened, in that moment, when our gazes met for so long? A part of me, in truth, does have an idea… a certain possibility. But I don’t feel like considering it seriously. It can’t really be that… or can it? Am I… perhaps fooling myself, ignoring signals that strong? Or is it the opposite, and such signals exist only in my imagination? Which of the two is correct?
Just before, she… was about to…?
The thought dies where it is. This is because it isn’t strong enough; it cannot overcome another, far more intense flow of emotion that has accompanied me ever since I left the training room.
I turn my eyes in the direction I came from. My gaze drifts.
“Ethan?” says the artificer.
“Sorry… I was thinking that I really don’t like that Jervis.”
“He’s an imbecile and a skirt-chaser!” exclaims the girl, all fired up. “He irritates me every single time I run into him. Fine, he’s good-looking, but I don’t see how that’s enough to make him likeable… he only gets on my nerves.”
“Yeah…”
“Lately he’s been with Dawn a lot. I don’t know if she’s after him too… if so, I really can’t understand her.”
It seems that during the time I was recovering Dawn was with him. That’s why I never saw her… so why did she tell me that story about mind-influence mayea?
Deep in my heart, I feel very sad. All the more strongly, I sense an abyss widening between me and the girl who has stood by my side ever since I arrived on Tersain.
– – – – – – – – – –
Epos (Maltia)
7 December 2355
Ethan’s 47th day on Tersain
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Jim walks quickly along the corridor, heading to the mess hall. He is tired and hungry after yet another shift at the Epos’s engines. Even though the ship is not travelling, the boilers are kept in a slow-combustion state to ensure she is ready to depart. They consume little, but someone still needs to shovel coal into them from time to time, and this time Jim is alone for an entire engine room.
I’ve ended up working harder than when we’re travelling and each tend to a boiler of our own.
He is almost at the canteen when he sees two people coming out. Dawn and Jervis.
Jim frowns.
That idiot Ethan is letting this situation go on?
As he is about to cross paths with them, with further dismay and annoyance he sees Jervis place an arm around Dawn’s shoulders as the two chat together. He feels anger rising as though he had been personally wronged.
“Hey…” he says, stepping in front of the pair.
“Mm?” goes Jervis, looking at him in puzzlement. “What is it?”
“You, my dear fellow, are getting far too familiar with Dawn,” Jim says, glaring at him.
“Eh?” Jervis laughs. “Good grief! Are you an admirer of hers? You seem a bit small for that.”
“Not me, you stupid peacock!” the boy retorts. “But that equally idiotic friend of mine, Ethan: he comes before you!”
“Wait, wait…” Jervis lifts his gaze as if trying to remember. “Ah, right… the youngster with the broken arm.”
He looks back at Jim.
“Well? Are you sure about what you’re saying? He didn’t seem too bothered.”
“Oh, he is bothered, and he might bother you too, if he wanted,” Jim declares. “Unfortunately he’s a pushover, and he doesn’t defend what’s his.”
“This talk about property and queueing up is a bit odd, don’t you think?” observes Jervis, and he smiles at Dawn. “And besides, who’s doing anything?”
He chuckles. Dawn, for her part, looks puzzled.
“And you just fall for it like that?” Jim snaps at her.
“But… I don’t understand,” the girl blinks in surprise.
“Come on, mate, let us through,” adds Jervis, gesturing for him to move aside. “We’re not amused by these sorts of games at our age. Maybe play them with your peers.”
Jim turns his head to stare at him.
“So that’s how you put it?” he replies.
And without any warning he lunges at the young man’s torso. He manages to land a punch to his stomach, but is then struck in the face. He feels his nose bend painfully before being pushed backwards and slammed against a wall. There he loses his balance and collapses.
“Look at that!” bursts out Jervis, slightly out of breath. “You really made me lose it, didn’t you?”
Dawn hastens to reach Jim. He feels something running over his lips. He touches himself and stares at his fingers: he is bleeding from the nose.
“Wait… let me see,” says the rebel, taking his face between her hands.
“I gather we’re running late today, eh?” says Jervis, in an exasperated tone. “Fine. When you’re done with the lad, you’ll find me in the armoury.”
Jim tenses his muscles, ready to get up and attack again, but Dawn’s grip becomes firmer. He looks at her: her gaze tells him to behave.
Once Jervis has walked away, the “injured” boy looks elsewhere and huffs. The young woman presses a handkerchief to his nose to stop the bleeding, and forces him to tilt his head forward.
“You overdid it,” the rebel states. “Why go and attack him like that?”
“Whad d’you bean, why?” he replies, his words rendered hard to understand by Dawn’s pressure on his aching nose. “He inzulted be… and ben…’’
“Wait, wait… in a minute I’ll let go and you’ll be able to speak properly.”
Once Jim’s nose is more or less functional again, he resumes:
“He gets on my nerves: he shows up and starts messing things up between you and Ethan.”
“What do you mean, messing things up?” Dawn replies.
“Oh, but you don’t care?” bursts out Jim. “Ethan isn’t liking any of this.”
“But… has he complained about anything?”
“No. He pretends nothing’s wrong. That’s why I have to act in his place,” the boy proclaims.
He fixes his gaze on the young woman.
“But I’ve figured out what he’s like,” he adds. “I’m sure it bothers him. You’re the person he cares about the most here: I’m certain of it.”
Dawn smiles and gives him a few taps on the cheek.
“How sensitive we are,” she jokes. “I didn’t think you so attentive to other people’s feelings.”
“People underestimate me,” Jim declares proudly.
“Indeed,” the rebel laughs. “I’m sure that’s the case.”
◊◊◊
“What on earth have you done?” I exclaim upon spotting Jim.
The lad has just entered the canteen. His nose is swollen, as though he has taken a nasty hit to the face.
“A couple of punches with Jervis. Nothing for you to make such a fuss about,” Jim replies, looking elsewhere. “Have you seen those two?”
“Who?”
“Dawn and Jervis, obviously!”
“Oh…”
I lower my gaze. Yes, I saw them: they stayed the whole time at a table far from mine. The rebel girl didn’t even notice me, and I decided I’d rather not go and greet her. Just a moment ago, the two of them left.
“Wait…” I say suddenly. “Punches? Why?”
“You ask some stupid questions! Because that guy’s disrespecting you!”
Jim strikes his fist against his own chest.
“If my friends don’t stand up for themselves, then it falls to me to take on the burden.”
“He didn’t insult me…” I observe.
“Him being with Dawn is an offence against you, and you shouldn’t tolerate it. If not for pride, then at least for love.”
“Not this again…”
“Hey…”
Jim taps his swollen nose.
“I did this for you,” he says. “Don’t play it down or deny it, or I’ll punch you as well.”
“People seem to enjoy doing that,” I comment, thinking of the hits I received from Antony and Dawn. “Do I have such a slap-worthy face?”
“No, you have one fit for punches, and loud ones at that,” Jim declares. “Wake up, or you’ll end up having everything taken away from you.”
Such familiar words, I think. Yes… the director of that research centre said them to me, the day the lightning struck me.
“This afternoon you’ll go to those two,” Jim decides. “And you’ll behave like a man.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake, let’s not start with these appeals to my virility…
“There’s no choice: if you don’t, I’ll drag you there by force,” the boy adds.
“Today I have to see Nipria.”
“Nipria will wait. Sort out your priorities.”
I’m at a loss. I’m absolutely no good at dealing with this kind of talk, nor do I feel like brushing Jim off.
“Don’t forget,” he concludes.
“I’ll see…”
I stand up. Then, after placing the tray on a trolley for dirty dishes, I move silently towards the mess hall exit.
“Hey!” Jim calls after me. “Stay here! I need to keep an eye on you!”
At that, I hurry to leave the room. I run swiftly down the corridor. I know Jim will chase after me.
How embarrassing, running away like this…
But I don’t want to be cornered into some strange and absurd scheme the rebel boy might have cooked up. Since I can’t escape him through talk, I must necessarily make myself “untraceable”.
I move quickly through the passages until I reach the room where I used to train with Dawn. Stopping in front of it, I stare at the closed door: the days when she and I used to spar already feel distant. But it’s the first place that came to mind where I could be by myself for a while.
I reach out and grab the handle. I open the door and start to step inside. I stop short upon seeing the room is occupied: Dawn and Jervis are inside.
