#agent harris

Beginning-of-chapter notes: 1.9.2133-9.5.2137. 17-21.

Harris had had his eye on Malcolm Reed.

To be sure, the boy had been nothing special when he’d entered the Academy. Harris had first seen his name on the roster for his Introduction to Tactics course and thought nothing of it. He'd thought even less when he saw that "Malcolm Reed" referred to a skittish, scrawny boy who looked like he had more business in Sciences than in Tactics & Security.

Malcolm had been frightened of him during that first class, like most of the other cadets. Turns out, being gruff and talking extensively about your peers' brutal deaths doesn't sit too well with 17- and 18-year-olds. Go fucking figure. But the boy had sat there anyway, his big, cautious blue-grey eyes hooked onto Harris' every move as he took in every word he spoke. Harris had no concept of the boy's potential at that point, but at the very least, he knew he had at least one engaged student.

As the term wore on, the boy proved to have a real knack for the subject. Harris observed how the boy’s brain worked with almost rapt fascination. He was stellar with a phase-arm. He could make hard decisions and, more importantly, he could make them quickly. Despite his demeanor, he did well with silent team communication exercises. Despite his size, he was a natural in hand-to-hand combat.

Perhaps even better, Harris thought, the boy was intensely bad at making or keeping friends. When his peers snuck out to bars, he read in one of the lounges. When the few interested girls did come up to ask him out, he always politely turned them down. When other cadets talked about the messages they’d get from their families, he’d always turn cold and sullen, as though the very subject of family made him sick. 

Reed wasn't just some taciturn, cold, introverted cadet. The kid had fucking nobody. And throughout his time at the Academy, it stayed that way. No one to talk to, no one to know anything about him, and no one to lose. There had been maybe one other kid who’d tried to be nice to him, sometime during his third year, but that nonsense had started and ended within the span of a month.

Harris couldn't help his shit-eating grin when he saw the kid's exit review from Admiral Stern.

Ensign Malcolm Reed, while not a warm or extroverted individual, has consistently been an effective leader of the teams he has been assigned to, performed admirably under pressure, and positively influenced his teammates' performance in similar situations. His tactical abilities are notably superior to those of his peers, and he consistently achieves high marks in hand-to-hand combat and weapon proficiency. He is a thorough yet concise report writer, attentive to the needs and strengths of his team, and competent in his areas of expertise. Overall, his performance is exceptional at its best and above-average at its worst. In summary, Ensign Reed has been an exceptional student and is poised to become a valuable member of Starfleet.

A highly qualified, extremely green kid with no emotional connections?

Harris didn’t dream, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t tempted to pinch himself. Reed was malleable, and Harris had to move before the kid’s COs could fuck that up.

The time was now.

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