“Don’t you think if I knew the answer to that I wouldn’t be here right now?” The tone remained cordial. The look she gave him wasn’t and hovered between searching and something approaching annoyed. Not at Cross though. Well maybe a bit at Cross but not because of what he’d said and asked.
For just a moment there’d been that something there. That hint of depth that occasionally peeked out of the man that indicated something a little more astute then the fly boy image he fronted people. There was no real way of knowing how much of it was real and how much wasn’t but Kenzi had seen the other side of that shield often enough now that she’d been comfortable asking him for help. A fact she reminded herself of as she tilted her head at him.
“I don’t suppose you’d perhaps like to tell me cap?” Fingers crossed its something I can work with. Just because simple solutions were best didn’t mean they were easy.
He’d given up bigger secrets to people trying a whole lot harder than she was now. Cross simply wasn’t the type to make someone work for something. He’d never understood that. Testing especially—the kind that didn’t just rate a skill—frustrated him to no end. If someone around you had the answer, why struggle? In this case, the something she wanted to know had a side effect of increased harmony on his ship. They had enough strife from outside sources. The last thing he wanted was to return to the days of Indira trying to assassinate Reaper during his morning meditation.
So he sighed. Heavily. “Oh, fine. I’ve always had a weakness for gorgeousness.”
He sat up a little, leaning toward her reclined form as if sharing a secret.
“Alix comes from a large family. Lots of siblings he had to be in charge of. Like a third parent. Or fourth parent, I suppose. He has an older sister, but from what I understand she was terribly clever immediately and moved out at a young age. He’s built for responsibility, you see. Practically has it leaking from his pores. You, darling, fly in the face of that. You’re all spirit and freedom. Add to that you duplicating his skillset, eliminating his sole responsibility for the well-being of this ship, and you building improvements upon the foundation he spent a standard year fostering...”
He paused for a drag and seemed to change course a bit.
“Imagine if you will that you’ve created…a robot. Built from scratch, a perfect android. Every piece you’ve designed yourself, smelted yourself, fitted and connected. The innards are perfect, compact, the synthetic mind processing away like mad. It needs a few tweaks still, but things you’ll finish up as you get to them. It’s a project of love. It’s yours. Then someone walks in and adds a coat of paint and says ‘Look how good that is. It’s my robot, too, now.’ Yes, it is good. The paint’s necessary. Helpful, even, because you had other things to focus on to bother with paint. But it’s not a balanced scale. Not to say you made any such claim, but it’s how he sees it.”
The captain leaned back again and took a few puffs of the cigarette, seemingly done. But then he turned his wrist and flicking ash, added—
“To get back to answering my own question: Alix wants two things in this life, Kenzi. Recognition and respect. He’s had plenty of the former, less so of the latter, and I don’t expect you to manage both. But can you fathom why he dislikes your very existence if not your whole approach? I know you understand—look at you, you glorious genius. But you’re not exactly a team player. Which is tragic, honestly, because I could see you fitting very well here.”
He stopped talking abruptly, as if realizing he’d begun to drift topics and perhaps said too much. Rather than cover it, though, he shut up and went back to smoking.
“But that’s just my opinion.”
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