Inspired by a request by InvisibleNinjaPirate; hope it's at least entertaining!
Five
It was a rare but exciting opportunity for her when her mother would travel with her to the Starcademy where her father worked as the Principal. She adored her father, and missed him dearly when he was away. Not having him as a buffer made her mother all the more harsh on her—Sit up straight, Theresa; 'Please and thank you Miss/Sir,' Theresa; Young ladies are to stay quiet when adults are speaking, Theresa. Oh, but Mother was such a bore and too overly obsessed with training her for highbrow society. All she wanted to do was go out in the central park of her Martian neighborhood at night, look at constellations, and hear their stories as she drew them in the dark. Mother never wanted to do such things. A young lady should be well-read and go to the best schools, but not so much that potential equally well-bred young men would find the chattering about academic topics annoying, or worse, emasculating. Honestly, she couldn't understand why Mother cared so much for the feelings of nameless, faceless boys. And surely they could just read their books as well. Honestly.
But her Father was a different man altogether and indulged her hobbies and let her prattle on for hours about the words she was learning to write and the brightly colored holobooks she was learning to read. He would preen and admire how smart she was, how clever, how enterprising to want to learn everything about everything. She would sit on his lap and she would pepper him with constant questions and he would patiently answer each one, until she ran out and promised to return at a later time with more. She was excited beyond words that she would be able to perch on his chair in his office while he talked about his course in Advanced Tactical Computing and showed her all the programs and charts she couldn't understand, but knew he would explain to her as best he could. She knew his class trained the very best STARDOGS, and she was so amazed at him and his work.
'One day,' she had told him while he was home on vacation, 'I will be like you—the very best principal. And the best teacher. My students will be the smartest and the bravest.'
He had chuckled at her, smiling brightly. 'Yes, my dear girl, I believe you'll surpass even myself.'
She burst through the door of his office, launching herself at him.
"Daddy, I missed you so much! I have to tell you about my Kindergarten—teacher says I am the best reader there—and I also want to see your computer. Daddy, I also watched a holoprogram on plants; did you know they make their own food, did you?" she spoke in a rush as she climbed into his lap and threw her arms around him.
Her father chuckled. "Did you now?"
Mother appeared at the door, aghast. "Theresa James, you know better than to enter without knocking! Your Father is still working! And he's speaking to a student!" she exclaimed, pointing to a young teenaged boy in school uniform, sitting casually in a chair by the desk, amused by the exchange.
"But…"
"No buts! What do you have to say for yourself?"
The young man spoke. "Oh, she knocked, didn't you see? I let her in."
Mother blinked. "Did you?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am," the young man grinned with overly saccharine sweetness, "The apology is all yours."
Mother sputtered, and T.J.'s jaw dropped.
"Now, now," her Father cut in, "An honest mistake and no harm done. Alice, please feel free to relax after your trip in my quarters—I'll bring Theresa back with me in a few. I merely have to sign a few of my student's documents."
Mother frowned, but turned and left.
"Quick thinking, my boy," her Father laughed, "Though I fear you might catch hell for that comment if she sees you again."
"If I can survive Lieutenant Daughry's constant nagging in Navigation class, I can survive anything," the young man shrugged casually. He nodded his chin at her. "She yours?"
"Ah, yes, my only child and light of my life," Father beamed.
She didn't know why, but she felt the need to sit up straight on her Father's lap. "I am Theresa James Davenport. I am five years old. Well, five-and-a-half, more accurately," she said proudly, extending a hand to shake, "Thank you for helping me not get in trouble."
The young man laughed uproariously. "Holy hell, she sounds like you," he directed at Father before turning to her. "Seth Goddard. Age 15. Fifteen-and-one-quarter, more accurately." He grinned cheekily and took her hand, placing a demure kiss on her tiny fingers.
It was quite like what she read in her fairytale books and it sent her blushing.
"Easy, cadet," Father warned, though there was restrained laughter in the threat, "This is my dearest princess. I won't have you swooping in to take her from me quite so soon."
The student smiled and gave a sloppy STARDOG salute. "I wouldn't dream of it. Besides, perhaps she'll come swooping in for me in 20 years when I'm a famous STARDOG captain."
"Keep that up and you won't live long enough to find out," he wagged a finger at Goddard.
The student laughed, grabbed his documents off of her Father's desk, and headed for the door. "Thanks for signing these, Mr. Davenport. You're really helping me out skipping ahead to tactics class well before final year—I think my grades more than prove I'm ready for it, so I don't understand why the registrar wouldn't sign me up without your say-so."
"You're my favorite student, Goddard, but let's not get too cocky. Don't make me regret signing that."
"No sir," he nodded. He then turned back to her. "See you around, Theresa. Really nice meeting you—you're a nice kid."
And with that, the student disappeared.
"Who was that?" she asked her Father.
"Mr. Goddard. Very good student."
"He's smart?"
"Very."
"And is he nice?"
"I would say so."
"Do you think he likes books?"
"He may just. I haven't asked him."
She mulled this over a second, then said resolutely, "Daddy, I simply must marry him."
Fifteen
Her preparatory school summer project was to observe her Father and report on what she thought of the current educational strategies at Starcademy and how she might improve upon them. Her Mother hated the idea, because it was beginning to confirm her worst fears—that T.J. would follow in her Father's footsteps as an educator rather than prime herself as a socialite.
Here at the school, following at her Father's heels, however, she felt in her element.
She followed him through the vast halls of the school, passing students her age who stared curiously at the girl tailing the principal, decked in a uniform that was not theirs.
She ignored them, taking note instead of how her Father carried himself down the hallways, nodding to students, gently but firmly telling them to rush to class before they were late.
They approached a set of double doors, and he turned to her.
"This is where the third-year students are having their combat simulation training," he explained, "We use a holodeck to simulate a close-combat situation on a regulation carrier cruiser. Students are tasked with survival and casualty control. I have a few STARDOG officers I recruited for the exercise to give them feedback after the simulation. We can watch it from the control room."
When they had climbed the stairs to the control room, the first group was just finishing up, and the atmospheric effect on the deck vanished to nothing to reveal a vast room with stark white walls. Students in academy uniforms stood with dummy weapons, and removed their helmets to regard two young officers, one with his palm pressed in his face, and the other just grinning crookedly.
"Sloppy!" said the gentleman with dirty blond hair as he removed his hand from his face, "You'd all be dead in 2, maybe 3 minutes, AT BEST."
The other officer clapped a hand on his comrade's shoulder, laughing. "Two minutes better than half our class did, Steve."
"Pipe down, Goddard, they won't learn if you excuse their mistakes."
He cocked an eyebrow at him. "Who's excusing their mistakes? I got a whole list of 'em," he said, flashing a compupad at Steve, "And we're gonna break down each one. Don't pretend that any third year was going to survive this thing, though."
Steve sighed. "Well, I suppose no one does the first time…"
Goddard grinned cockily. "Oh, I did. And that's why I'm the perfect person to go over The List with our lovely students here. Plus, I'm far better with children."
"Hey, we're like, 17!" one of the students griped.
"You're all babies next to my weary joints," Goddard said with a flourish, "Now come, and listen to your elder tell you about the 67 points you got so horribly wrong and how to fix them so you pass your midterm."
There was a grumbling from the students, but T.J. noted that none of them gave him a hard time and all obeyed the order. She watched the brown-haired officer explain his analysis of the student's performance and noticed by item 4, he had their rapt attention.
"He seems to be effective," she murmured to her Father, nodding a chin at him.
"He's quite effective. Meteoric rise through the ranks. Lieutenant in 6 years from Ensign. Rumored to be up for consideration for promotion to Lieutenant Commander this year."
She gaped at her Father. "He seems so young!"
"Twenty-five," her Father acknowledged, "I'm surprised you don't remember him, actually."
"Why would I know him? Is he famous?"
"Not outside STARDOG news. You've met, though."
"I don't recall."
"Oh?" her Father grinned, "And at the time you told me you were itching to marry him."
She shrieked. "I would never have said such a thing!"
Father laughed. "Oh, you were only five at the time, dear, but you did very clearly outline your impending wedding to me the night after you met him."
"Father, honestly!"
Her Father put an arm around her shoulder. "You're young still, so I hope you'll simply sit back and take notes on his merits as an officer, rather than as a heartthrob."
She blushed furiously. "He's no heartthrob of mine!"
Father only shrugged.
She turned her attention back to the group of students, intent on working on her project.
Goddard told a joke, and the group laughed. His eyes were mirthful and his smile, majestic.
'Oh no,' she groaned to herself, feeling her face turn hot, 'He's actually handsome.'
Her Father had been watching her and she heard him chuckle to himself. She probably wouldn't live this down for a while.
Thirty
She sat nervously outside the conference room where a large panel of STARDOGS and Starcademy personnel were interviewing the candidate for Vice-Principal ahead of her. She knew she was young for the job—perhaps the youngest to ever be considered—but the desire for them to accept her burned within.
She would prove that she was the best candidate. Not because she came from well-to-do roots, and not because her Father had held the position years ago, but because damn it all, she was EFFECTIVE.
Despite her confidence in her skills, she was still nervous, and fidgeted on her compupad, trying to distract herself. As she browsed through the spacenet, a headline caught her eye:
"Captain Seth Goddard Credited with Saving UPP Dauntless and Mirellian Refugees."
Her eyebrow raised at the familiar name. She skimmed the article quickly, hoping to finish it before she was called in to her interview. She didn't know why she wanted to know what had happened to her Father's former star student, but she found that her curiosity was killing her.
Apparently, he had rescued the Dauntless, dead in space in the midst of a firefight with some or another hostile species. He had then made the risky move of rescuing a colony of Mirellians on a nearby planet who had been ransacked by the same enemies just the day before. Despite the fact that the whole town was in a shambles and their own ship working only half as well as it might, they managed to rescue almost a hundred people, save the remained crew of the Dauntless from potential destruction, return his own battered, but expensive ship safely to UPP territory, and do it without losing a single member of his own crew. The comments on the news article seemed to be eating it up.
"What a hero!"
"Now that's where I like to see my tax dollars going!"
"First, LOL. Sounds like a badass."
"Probably gonna get promoted again."
"OMG, have you seen his picture? Total fox."
"I'd hit it."
"Back on topic, anyone know what rank he'd be up for?"
"Let me spacegoogle that for you: .gov/data/ranks. Lazy gen Z4's."
"Oooh, rear admiral next. I'd let him command my rear, if you know what I'm sayiinnnng."
"Lotta thirsty ladies in this thread."
Davenport rolled her eyes. After all that talk of his heroism, it devolved into lewdness in 5 comments. Goddard would probably love it. She remembered the man being a bit fond of being the center of attention.
Still, on his way to Rear Admiral at 40 was no small feat. She didn't know why, but she suddenly felt the need to accomplish on his level.
'Next time I see that man, I'll be Principal of this Academy, so help me. And I'll do it BEFORE 40. I'll have a hand in training every single cadet that comes his way. See him beat THAT.'
She blinked in surprise at herself. She didn't need to compete with this man. Surely she didn't care if he thought her at the top of her career by the time they saw one another again, if ever? Why did she care that he see her so thoroughly the master of her domain? He was just her father's favorite student—he was of no consequence to her.
'Like attracts like,' the voice in her head suggested, 'You'd want him to like you.'
'I certainly don't care if he likes me at all,' she huffed at the voice internally.
'Sure, sure. Let's both pretend we won't have a single dirty thought about him later.'
She turned bright red, and panicked as the door opened and the last candidate stepped out of the room.
"You're up," he signaled to her, "You okay? You're really red."
She groaned and willed herself to cool down with every last fiber of her being.
"I'm fine. Hope your interview went well."
"Thanks. Hope yours goes well."
She nodded. It was going to go well. She was going to clinch this. And then regardless of what she did with Goddard, at least he'd know he was dealing with a hell of a woman.
Thirty Four
She was surprised when his name came up in the administration meeting.
"I thought that we had enough instructors for the field training prelim courses? Why are they assigning him here?"
The Principal shook her head. "For whatever reason, they see some value in not discharging him for his foolish actions. So they stripped his rank instead and reached out to me for a proper long-term punishment project. Luckily for him, I have the perfect one."
She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to her question, but she asked it anyway. "What project?"
"There's a certain Vice Principal at this school who insists on keeping a group of underperforming cadets instead of expelling them all. Sounds like Goddard would fit right in, considering."
She bristled. "Pardon me for thinking that those students are redeemable, Madam," she huffed.
Another administrator chimed in. "I think you are a remarkably good administrator, Theresa, but your insistence at reforming the class of 'Space Cases' is misplaced. You can't save them all. Despite his optimism, I'm sure your Father could have told you that."
"I do protest to the use of that term," she replied, speech clipped, "They hear what you're saying about them."
"Considering they count that Andromedan student amongst them, I'm not surprised," another faculty member spoke, "Boy hears everything BUT his lessons."
She frowned sourly while the room enjoyed a chuckle.
"And Capt-Commander Goddard's role in this?" she asked.
"Why, he's going to be the miracle you've been looking for, Davenport," the Principal grinned malignantly, "He has one year to reform those students and turn their grades around in time for their field training. I'll be turning in a less than stellar report to STARDOG command about his efficacy otherwise."
"Seems harsh," someone spoke, "Even for someone like him."
"Well, he'll be well-supervised," the Principal replied, "Since you're so passionate about imparting education even to those who will likely fail to absorb it, I'm putting you in charge of managing Goddard, Davenport."
"Madam…"
"Bring him in," the Principal waved to her assistant, standing by the doors to the conference room, "He should be familiar with who he is reporting to."
When he stalked in, face dour and posture confrontational, she was unsure if he was the same man she had met before. Sure, he was still the handsome man he always was, but the spark of life was gone, and the passion in his eyes had been snuffed out.
"Welcome, Mr. Goddard," the Principal began, "Glad to have you amongst our faculty for the next year."
He only grunted in response.
"Now, now, let's not get off on the wrong foot already," the Principal replied, "Remember who writes your evaluations."
He sighed.
"I have an interesting project for you, Goddard. One that is just perfect for a man who loves to live dangerously like yourself. I have a small class of misfit students but a hair's breadth away from being ineligible for field training. I need them primed and ready in a year. You have until then; fail, and I promise you that I won't have much to say to command about your eligibility to return to space."
He grit his jaw. "You're screwing me off the bat?"
"Language, Mr. Goddard. You've already almost started a war. Trying to fire one up with me is not advisable," the Principal glared at him.
"Letting Reaver go would have been a mistake," Goddard hissed in response to the reference to his recent bad decision.
"Seems you know a thing or two about them. You'll be a good fit for this class since you're so familiar with mistakes."
He opened his mouth to speak but caught her at the last minute subtly shaking her head, eyes wide open. He refrained from voicing his opinion on the elder woman.
The Principal noticed. "To the rescue already, Davenport? Barely three minutes in. This will be a long year for you." She turned to him. "Miss Davenport here is in charge of overseeing your rehabilitation. Passing down the pet project through the generations, if you will. She reports to me all she notes you do. She will help me make or break you."
He met her eyes, and she was unsure what to make of his expression. She did know, however, that it made her uneasy.
"She will see you to your quarters and assigned class. If you take umbrage with your class, see her about it—she's one of the few reasons they're still around, after all. After you inevitably fail to turn them into competent cadets, however, things might start looking up for me."
"I'll have you know that I'm well decorated and experienced. I've commanded and made HUNDREDS of competent officers. If they fail, it's not on me," he barked.
"Your rank can't help you now," the Principal replied, "Not that you have it anymore anyway."
That was his tipping point. "I don't have to take this shit from you. You have no IDEA what happened out there or at the hearing. I EARNED my rank, dammit. And if you think for a minute that I'm going to just sit back and be your whipping boy and handle the students you're not capable of handling yourself, well then you're sadly mistaken. If you think I'M ineffective, perhaps it's time for a little introspection, MADAM. In the meantime, you can keep your speculations and comments to yourself."
She internally screamed at him.
The Principal's eyes narrow at him dangerously. "I look forward to reporting to command about this outburst, COMMANDER."
"Knock yourself out," he spat, turning around and stalking from the room. She watched him take a sharp left out of the doorway, then jumped out of her chair to follow him. He was already halfway down the long hallway to the central hall when she caught up to him.
"Commander!" she called after him, "Stop! Commander! Seth!"
He stopped and whirled on her. "What the hell do you want?"
She was taken aback. "I'm TRYING to help you," she bit, "And here you've already given me the Herculean task of trying to undo what you just said in there."
"Oh, PARDON. How difficult for you."
She stiffened. "This was not my plan, Commander. Don't get angry with me."
"You're their dog all the same," he rolled his eyes at her shocked face, "Go ahead, tattle on me to the headmistress. You can't make this experience any worse for me than command and your lovely boss already has."
She paused for a moment before letting her posture relax in defeat. She looked him in his eyes, an expression that was half sorrow, half anger.
"Father would be horribly disappointed to see the man you've become," was all she said before turning and walking away from him, leaving him in the halls alone, jaw slackened.
Thirty Six
He sighed, exasperated at the crew.
"Okay," he said, holding back a frustrated tone, "I figured we were past a lot of the issues that made us so ineffective in the beginning. You were all working as a well-oiled machine, and suddenly, today, you're all acting like petty children and making sloppy mistakes. We now have to make extensive repairs to the ship's shields, amongst other things. Someone bring me up to speed on what the problem is. NOW."
All five voices from the crew started up at once, each blaming one another for some tense interpersonal issues that had apparently reached a boiling point over the last week. He could only make out bits and pieces of Bova's gripes about Harlan, Harlan's gripes about Radu, Radu's blame on Rosie, Rosie's defensive position against Radu, and Suzee's annoyance at all four of them for putting her behind on her work. Other accusations flew, but he was over it.
"Enough. Never mind. I don't care what the stupid issues you can't get over this week are. Work them out—that's an order."
He ran a hand through his hair as the students silenced, still fuming silently. She stood at the back of the command post, taking the scene in as she slightly suffocated in the heavy space.
He shook his head. "Listen," he began, "I get it—close quarters all the time can make you crazy from time to time. Sometimes you need a little break from one another, and that's fine. But don't let it affect your performance, or more importantly, the bond you've made with one another. I truly think it's what's gotten us this far, despite some less than perfect odds. You lot have come an exceedingly long way—I doubt anyone at Starcademy would even recognize you at this point. Don't throw away that accomplishment over whatever small issues you have. You all are bigger than that."
She noted that the posture in all five students relaxed, and each of them had the decency to look ashamed. She was awed by his ability to disarm them all, as if he were some well-loved father expressing his disappointment at his children who so desperately craved his approval.
He picked up on the change in tone in the room. "Don't let this slip up define you. You're all very capable at being a cohesive team who performs their duties well. Confront the problem and move on."
"Yes, sir," they all muttered.
She watched as they raised their eyes to other members of the crew and by now had become versed enough in reading the language of their looks to one another.
'I'm sorry.'
'I was out of line. It's not your fault.'
'I lost my temper.'
'He's right. I don't want to go back to what we used to be.'
"Everyone's head back on straight?" he asked to the room.
"Yes, sir," came the reply.
"Good. Help Suzee repair the damages. Everyone contributed to the mess, everyone cleans it up. I want double Compost training tomorrow—I want to make sure your newfound bad habits are drilled out of you."
"Yes, Commander," they replied, before Suzee nodded them all out of the Compost and to the engine room.
They were left alone, and she was caught in trying to quickly process what had happened in such a small span of time. He had taken the crew from 60 to 0 with only a firm talking; it brought her whizzing back to the simulation she observed at 15, when he had so commanded the respect of 10 strangers so as to make them all receptive to his constructive criticisms with zero resistance.
It was then that she truly saw that the man she admired then was back.
He looked at her, then grinned crookedly. "Problem solved, I hope."
She groaned internally. 'Oh no, he's still handsome. Shit.'
Thirty Seven
Things had evolved with them.
They were testing the waters now, exploring the beginnings of a more intimate relationship. It was still nebulous at this point, poorly defined, and sometimes confusing. She didn't know where they stood exactly, but she did know she enjoyed the closeness of quiet evenings, and more so enjoyed when he held her close before leaving her for the night, leaving a soft kiss on her lips.
She had excused herself to a small restaurant at the port they were briefly stopping at. She needed a minute to herself to relax and contemplate their next steps outside of the sometimes stifling confines of the ship.
The tea she drank was delicious, floral and sweet, and she felt herself relaxing a bit even as she pondered some of the more critical decisions in their blossoming relationship.
Perhaps, she thought, taking a long, luxurious sip of the bright red tea, she would listen to the ever louder voice in her head and ask him to have sex with her.
A rush passed through her body. She suspected he was delicious naked.
Perhaps, perhaps. It was a long jump.
Another sip, and she felt a presence behind her.
"You're quite exotic," an alien man leered over her shoulder, "And with a taste for expensive teas. I daresay we'd get along well."
She looked up at him. "Pardon?"
"You live at this port?"
She frowned. "Just passing through."
"A traveler? And one alone? I imagine things must get lonely in the depths of space, then. Let me take you to a fine dinner worthy of your tastes and perhaps an evening of less lonely activities?"
She cringed. "Certainly not."
He loomed over her, intimidating as he leaned in, trapping her at the table. "C'mon. You look like you could use a little fun."
While she was unsettled, she was hardly the fainting, shrinking violet she had been two years ago.
"I need no such fun from the likes of you," she huffed, leaning as far away from him as possible, "You may leave."
He grasped her arm tightly. "Maybe I don't want to. Now don't be so haughty—you'd be lucky to hop in bed with a guy like me."
She was a little alarmed then, and was quickly trying to analyze where she could get an effective sucker punch in when she heard his familiar voice.
"Can I help you, pal?"
The stranger turned around. "Get lost, I saw her first."
He grinned wickedly at the stranger. "On the contrary," he lied smoothly, "That's my wife you're manhandling."
Her eyes bulged at him.
The stranger stood to loom above him, and she realized that the alien had a head's height on him, at least.
"On my planet, we take the women from puny men like yourself. Waste of a perfectly good womb on a manlet; they are better impregnated by the bigger and stronger."
He seemed unfazed by this and grinned at the alien cheekily. "Beat you to the punch there too, buddy."
The stranger frowned. "You've bred her?"
"Oh yes. Very recently. Trust me—she has no need for you in that realm."
The stranger pulled a face. "Disgusting. I have no need for a woman defiled such."
"I had no intention of letting you have her anyway," he replied, voice low and cold, "I'd perhaps apologize for bothering her."
"If she's foolish enough to bear children for a lesser man, she has bigger problems than me," he growled before stalking away.
Once he had left the building, he turned to her.
"You okay?"
"I'm…not sure."
He frowned. "He didn't hurt you?"
She shook her head. "No. I'm just…a little flummoxed by that whole exchange."
"Yeah, he's pretty gross."
She turned red. "That's only partially what I meant. That was…quite a story you invented."
He had the grace to blush. "I…uh, well, you know me. I try to bluff my way out of situations when I can. About 90% effective. Little white lie never hurts."
She nodded. He had white lied all those years ago for her in her Father's office, but this was something else.
"C'mon," he said, clearing his throat, "I'll walk you back to the ship."
They began the walk back in an uncomfortable, awkward silence. Her feelings were everywhere, and she didn't know what to say, where to look, what to do…
Her mouth overrode her brain and spoke before she could tell it not to.
"Take me to bed tonight."
He looked at her incredulously. "What?"
"I'm asking for sex."
He sputtered. "I KNOW what you're asking for. Where is it coming from? Not from that exchange back there, I hope."
"Do you not want to?" she asked.
"Of course I goddamn want to," he rushed out before catching himself. "Uh…sorry. I don't mean to seem so eager about it. It comes off creepy."
"I didn't get that impression," she blushed, "I'm just glad you're not turned off to the idea."
"Hardly," he replied, "I've been very much turned on to the idea for a while now. But you know I respect your boundaries—I'd never want to press you into anything like that asshole tried to do." He jabbed a thumb back where they had come.
"That…means a lot to me. Not every man I've ever seen in my life has cared to that extent."
"Hardly fair," he replied, "You're a good woman."
"Thank you."
Ship in sight, he took her hand and kissed the palm. "You're welcome to my bed anytime," he said before winking coyly and heading up the space ramp.
From the recesses of her mind, a memory came back to her.
"Daddy, I simply must marry him."
She shook her head, a smile forming on her lips.
Depending on how the next few years went, she wondered if her Father might catch her making good on her promise. She could only hope he might approve.
In the meantime, she would shake off her latest encounter and get a small nap in. It would hopefully be a long night.