Day One had been the kitchen; Day Two was window-washing. Jim and Valerie were assigned separate sections of the space station and told to wipe down every window they could find until it might as well be a mirror. Jim sometimes caught sight of Phillips strolling by, still limping slightly but visibly improved and much more energetic. The tapping of her cane was quicker, alerting him of her approach. Morph trailed after her and probably would have joined Jim if she wasn't distracting the little blob with sweets from her pocket.
It relieved him to see Morph taken care of. It wasn't an ideal arrangement but the Commodore seemed to have warmed up to his pet since the day before. As Jim polished the glass before him he thought of how having Morph around had helped ease his nerves during his first few days aboard the Legacy. Maybe Morph would have a similar effect on Phillips, help her stay calm even if she wasn't truly content here.
That's the whole point of making her babysit us, right? Keep us busy, help her get used to things?
He still didn't know what to think about the Vice Admiral's apparent deception. Why pretend he was surprised at Phillips' arrival when he had invited her in the first place? It didn't make sense unless he wanted to keep Amelia in the dark. Maybe he was afraid Amelia would object or something. Jim wished he could see the pattern, guess what the riddle was, but he had enough on his plate at the moment. Theorizing would have to wait until later.
He saw Blake out and about as he traveled from one corridor to another. The Vice Admiral strode around with an air of confidence, overlooking everything in scrutiny. Jim made sure not to make eye contact as the man passed him by. It occurred to him as he watched Blake move on that Valerie had never elaborated on the "project" her father was supposedly here to test out.
At the end of the day, after they reported back to Phillips and turned in their dirty rags, Jim decided to test his luck. "You said your dad was here doin' something special, right?" he asked, following her to the mess hall.
Valerie appeared mildly irked but didn't snap at him. "I did. But I don't know anything about it, not really. Just that it's here, and it's for the military."
"So it's a secret," Jim mused.
"Yes, actually. Which is why you should probably avoid asking too many questions. Someone might overhear," Valerie told him.
"Hey, you were the one who mentioned it first."
Valerie came to a stop and put her hands on her hips. "So you want to talk. Fine. Let's talk about what you and Drummond were doing on the astronomy deck."
"I'd rather talk about why you were spying on us," Jim retorted.
"Spying? Hardly. I saw someone sneaking about and decided to investigate."
"How'd you see us, then? Unless you can see through your own door, you had to be out and about yourself."
"I was just coming back from my father's quarters," Valerie stated. "He stays up very late, you see. I can be out past curfew as long as it's by his summons."
"So what, was he giving you more reasons to hate my guts or somethin'? 'Cause I think you're on my case. Why else would you be so nosy?"
"My father isn't persecuting you unfairly, so stop talking like that." Valerie glared at him, drawn up to her full height – a good two inches taller than Jim. "If you're self-centered enough to think everything's about you, then I hope you spend your days paranoid everyone and their brother's got a grudge against you. And besides, his reasons for mistrusting you are more than valid."
"His reasons, maybe. But what about yours? Ever thought of having your own reasons?" Jim demanded, now close enough to reach out and strike her if he wished. As if he would ever stoop that low. But the sudden proximity made him uncomfortable.
Valerie's eyes flashed and Jim knew he had hit a sore nerve. "I place faith in my father's judgment and for good reason!" she almost shouted. "You can make fun of me as much as you like but I believe in him, Jim. I believe he will always do what's best, for me and for others too."
"So you're just gonna let him tell you what to think, how to think it and who to like? Sorry, but that sounds like you're just scared to make your own decisions." Jim folded his arms and countered her glare with a foul look of his own. "Just 'cause you believe in a guy doesn't make him perfect. People make mistakes! Even fathers." Especially fathers, he had almost said.
"Oh, you would say that, wouldn't you?" Valerie spat.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jim actually felt his heart rate rising, his whole body tensing as real anger took hold.
"Only that you're just using my father as a convenient scapegoat for your own issues," Valerie said knowingly. "So stop it. Deal with the fact that neither he nor I much care for you, and stop it. This is childish."
Jim felt pure fury course through him and oh, how he ached to lash out. He kept his cool but made sure that his expression and body language conveyed just how far she had gone, how much of a line she had crossed. If the Vice Admiral had told her his entire background, she knew full well that his father was a family-deserting deadbeat. There was no other logical point of reference for her argument. It hurt to have it thrown in his face like this, but damned if he was going to break down and cause an incident which would land him in even more trouble.
So instead he just balled his fists until his knuckles turned white. "The only childish thing I see here is a confused, prissy girl with no friends, acting like her dad's opinions give her the moral high ground!" he retaliated. "You say you were born for this, but honestly? I think this school is the last place you belong if you can't even think for yourself."
He realized just how vicious the words were after they left his lips. He might as well have slapped her. Valerie's eyes widened and she took a step back, her confidence shattered. Jim continued to glower, fueled by every ounce of pain and sadness over rejection – scars from his father's departure that would never truly heal. He could live with the injury, ignore it sometimes... but it would always sting when provoked.
Valerie Blake had no idea how it felt to be someone's unwanted baggage, left behind and neglected. He didn't want to pity her, didn't want to think on how she might just be ignorant. He wanted her to know what she had done. He wanted her to be upset.
The last time he had felt this way it had been due to an argument over a treasure map, on a distant and now-destroyed planet.
"You cad," Valerie hissed. She lowered her head, her own stance now equally hostile. "You utter reprobate. You wretch!"
Jim simply continued to glare. His blood was still hot in his veins and he refused to back down. "Tell me somethin' I don't know," he said calmly.
For a moment he wasn't Cadet Hawkins, hotshot student and reckless adventurer. He was just Jim Hawkins again, an angry kid pushing against the weight of his own sins and the sins of others which had left him damaged.
"I never want to speak to you again," Valerie half-sobbed despite her fury. "Never, never. Just stay away from me." She backed away, then turned and ran down the hallway. "I hate you!"
Likewise, Jim wanted to bellow after her. But watching her retreating form mellowed him somewhat. He allowed his fists to uncurl and let out a shaky sigh. His heart was still pounding in his ears and he realized his eyes were wet. His shoulders slumped; now he didn't feel in the least bit hungry. He felt weary and ready for bed even though the day cycle had a few hours left.
Do I really hate her? He wondered as he walked slowly to his quarters. The smell of dinner wafting from the mess hall held no appeal for him. I mean, she really doesn't have any friends... her own team doesn't talk to her anymore. All she's got is her dad, and the Commodore doesn't seem too fond of her either... He shook his head as if to ward off any sympathetic thoughts. No! None of that should matter. She chooses to act that way, like she's better than everyone else. Like she can just talk about what happened with my dad and get away with it...
His eyes stung as the full impact of her words hit him mid-stride. For a moment the lump in his throat felt terrible enough to gag him. He stopped and stifled his mouth in the crook of his elbow, concealing the sharp intake of breath.
His father's abandonment. Silver's deception. The Vice Admiral's determination to slander him. It all came slamming at once into his wall of confidence and he buckled. The more he told himself he should be strong enough to get past it the worse he felt. By the time he reached his room he was red-faced from the surge of emotions.
Francis was nowhere to be found, probably eating dinner with everyone else. Jim collapsed onto his cot and didn't even bother removing his boots or jacket. He just buried his face in his pillow and got fistfuls of his blanket, wishing he could disappear. Bitterness and resentment bubbled up inside, a familiar-tasting poison that beckoned him down the old path of self-destruction. He would not follow, but the grief was still tangible and demanded to be felt.
I need to talk to somebody. Someone I can trust. He knew exactly who fit the bill, and as he sat up he let out a shaky sigh. Normally cadets were supposed to schedule meetings with instructors, but this was an atypical situation; besides, Amelia was always assuring him of how he could come to her with anything. Never before had he taken her up on the offer, preferring to keep up a self-sufficient image.
I just hope the Vice Admiral isn't there...
The door to Amelia's office was shut, as it always was unless someone was entering or leaving. Light shone from underneath the door, indicating that she was present within. Jim approached the door and raised his hand to knock, then paused as he heard muffled voices inside. Amelia's, as expected – and to his discomfort, that of Vice Admiral Blake.
"... a few remaining technical hurdles," the Vice Admiral was saying. Jim glanced around, saw that no one was watching, and risked leaning in so he could hear better. "I've invited many scientific minds of renown to join the project, but I believe your husband's expertise will be invaluable. There are few who have seen such advanced machinery with their own eyes."
"My husband is an astrophysicist, not an engineer," Amelia replied. She didn't sound too happy. "What sort of advanced machinery do you speak of, Vice Admiral?"
"The artificial planetary body your expedition discovered, of course." Blake's tone was eager. "Contrary to popular belief, the old tales of ancient watchers, a precursor race if you will, are not as fantastical as people claim. There was a precursor species once, with scientific knowledge which makes ours primitive by comparison. Flint wasn't the first spacer to stumble across an intact example of their craftsmanship."
"You mean there are other worlds similar to Treasure Planet?" Amelia was interested now.
"Precisely. The Empire keeps watch over those we've been able to locate, but no one's been able to figure out how the technology works. Flint – and your Hawkins, more recently – accomplished by mere luck what gifted researchers have been trying to do for decades."
"And what does this have to do with my husband?"
"Delbert Doppler mentioned witnessing glyphs present on Treasure Planet, markings he believed originated from the precursors. The Forefathers, as we call them. His concentration may be astrophysics but he also displays considerable skill in other scientific fields. He may not be a miracle worker, but the project could certainly benefit from any ideas he offers."
"Why not ask Hawkins? He's the one who figured out how to open the map, and how to activate the portal. You underestimate him, Blake, he's your best bet if you want to understand that sort of tech."
There was a pause. Jim guessed the Vice Admiral wasn't pleased at that. "Be that as it may, I prefer to keep minors uninvolved. I will resort to including Hawkins if all other routes are exhausted. For the time being, I would greatly appreciate the honor of extending an offer to your husband."
"Extend away, Vice Admiral. I can't make that decision for him. But don't be too put out if he declines; he's sworn off getting bogged down in any more quests, you see. Plus he's quite busy with our children..."
Jim backed away from the door. His frustration quickly gave way to bewilderment as he tried to process what he had overheard. Fearful of being discovered, he turned and hurried back to the cadet quarters. Everyone was returning from dinner now, heading for their respective rooms and chatting as they went. He made a point of avoiding anyone he knew, unwilling to get involved in frivolous conversation while his head was spinning.
When he finally reached his own bed, Francis was lounging in the opposite cot. "Didn't see you at chow. Where were you hiding?" Francis asked lazily, still munching on food he had smuggled out of the mess hall.
"I was busy," Jim answered tersely. He kicked off his boots and sat on his bed, trying to plan his next step. He smelled himself and realized he was due for a shower. "I, uh, I'm going to get clean. Try not to make a mess."
"Mess? I'm not messy," Francis insisted, even as he dumped crumbs on his own bedsheets.
Jim grabbed one of the folded towels at the foot of his cot and headed for the bathroom. "There's this thing called being honest with yourself. You should try it sometime," he suggested before closing the bathroom door.
He locked the door and paused to look at himself in the mirror before starting the water so it could heat up. His face had changed since he started here, lengthening slightly and maturing from a boy's wide-eyed visage to that of a young man. He scratched at his jaw, realizing he needed to shave. For a moment he saw a completely different person in the mirror compared to who he had been two years ago. Someone older.
All he had to do was comb down his bangs, though, and the illusion broke. With two curtains of hair framing the upper half of his face, he went from cadet to cabin boy in an instant. Jim couldn't help the tired smile that spread across his face. Five o'clock shadow or no, he was still James Pleiades Hawkins, all of seventeen and still fighting to answer the questions that kept him up at night. For all the milestones he had passed, he still felt as if he were drifting aimlessly.
He wished Amelia had been available earlier, but there was still time to petition her for a listening ear. Perhaps tomorrow would bring better opportunity. He blanched as he imagined having to deal with Valerie again... if she didn't go crying to daddy this evening. All she had to do was tell on him and he would be flipped from the frying pan into the fire for sure.
So why do I keep antagonizing her when I know she could ruin me for good? Good grief, it's like I still don't know how to pick my fights...
"You're hopeless," he told his reflection. "Stop it. Get a grip."
A secret project. A secret project involving this "Forefather" stuff, technology like Treasure Planet. Is that what Blake's working on here? And if it is, is Phillips part of it? Is that why he lied about knowing she was coming? Then why would he tell Amelia about the project in the first place...
His mind continued to grind out thoughts of suspicion and discord until he fell asleep after lights-out; he dreamed of pretty galleons sailing through space, battling solar flares and rogue Etherium currents, cutting a path through the stars in search of treasure and glory. At the helm of the most impressive galleon stood a figure not unlike himself, except this Jim Hawkins wasn't burdened by expectations or stress. No, this Jim had a grin hungry for thrills and discovery – and most of all, he wasn't alone.
It was a future that never was but could have been, if only he had taken Silver's offer. It was a dream that yanked at his heartstrings. When he woke at first light, he felt a pang of regret that he had never quite experienced before. Part of him knew he should feel guilty for longing after a choice that would have been utterly selfish – but another part of himself, a deeper and less duty-bound part, whispered that maybe such a choice might have been the right idea after all.
