Thea was not prepared to be a Pathfinder. The Pathfinder. How was she supposed to be the Pathfinder? She'd had close to no training!
Then again, she hadn't been prepared to lose her father either. But hey, at least she had some experience in the field of dead parents. She lost her mother, too, didn't she?
Ha.
She's funny.
What a start.
She traveled 600 years for this?
Hey, at least she had it better than her father. He traveled and slept for 600 years across galaxies in dark space just to die on the first "golden world" they'd stepped foot on.
Heleus just spelled "promising future".
Why isn't anyone here to laugh at her jokes? She's fucking funny!
Somewhere between remembering that now her mother and father were both dead and morbidly chuckling about her equally morbid jokes, her tears had decided that her eyes weren't deep enough to hold them and spilled out onto her cheeks like the traitors they were.
Thea gingerly ran her fingertips along the surface of her cheek, not really believing that she was crying. For one really dumb second, she glanced upwards to see if it was, by chance, raining. And saw the ceiling of the Pathfinder quarters.
Oh yeah, huh. She's on the Tempest. In her quarters. Crying, apparently.
Her father would have given her a look of disapproval. He didn't like it when people cried.
Well, she didn't like it when he died, so fair's fair. He gets to die; she gets to cry.
She can't believe her shit luck. Next thing she knows, they'll be telling her her twin brother is in a coma.
Oh yeah, huh. He is. Fancy that.
She's an orphan.
With a huge fucking ship and a growing crew. And an even bigger responsibility: make Heleus viable for the Milky Way species.
It's like God is telling her to just let go. Stop hanging up on Him and answer His vid-call. Let Him take her. She'll fail anyways.
Well, she was never a believer so God can go fuck Himself.
No offense to anyone who's a believer. She's just angry.
"Pathfinder, I am detecting frequent irregularities with your cortisol levels. Shall I inform Dr. T'Perro?"
And then there's SAM.
Once upon a time, Thea had jokingly wondered what it'd be like if the little voice inside her head was actually a person and not just her talking to herself.
Ha. It's not a joke anymore. She actually has someone-- no, something-- in her head now. Isn't that just grand?
Oh yeah, SAM had asked her a question.
"No, SAM. Can't a girl wallow in self-pity for once in her 656 years of life?"
To her mild surprise, SAM actually seemed to contemplate her response.
"As you wish, Pathfinder. Please keep in mind that if your cortisol levels do not improve, my programming requires me to inform Dr. T'Perro, regardless of your orders."
She sniffled and huffed out a chuckle. "Are you stepping to me, SAM?"
"I am merely informing you of one of my programming protocols. It is not my intention to 'step up to you', as you say."
She laughed outright at that. SAM had humor. Who knew?
"Noted, SAM. Now leave me alone for a bit."
"Affirmative, Pathfinder."
It's quiet now. Her tear ducts have run dry and her cheeks are sticky. Her nose is clogged up with snot and she's exhausted herself. She feels like she could maybe cry some more, but SAM's interrupted her sad moment.
Both her parents are dead and her only family left is in a coma. But he's not dead. And she'll be damned if she won't be there when he wakes up.
And when he wakes up, maybe she'll impress him with the viable world the Initiative had originally advertised. Give him a home.
After all, that's what Pathfinders-slash-older siblings are for.