[b]“I don’t like him.”[/b] Ryen stated at her glass of water. Her eyes had barley left it since her confrontation with Lazlo. Just a few moments ago the other three has rushed out of the room, leaving her and Gunther alone to man the table.
 
[b]”He’s a bit of an odd one, I’ll give you that,”[/b]the solider replied after giving himself a few moments to think, [b]”but I’m sure Quincy means well.”[/b]

Ryen scoffed, the short loud sound echoing in the nearly pristine room. [b]”I wasn’t talking about the doctor.”[/b] She shook her head in irritation. She hadn’t been on this ship for more than two hours and she was already having what could certifiably be called ‘a crisis of conscience’. If the captain had in fact mistreated Ellie, would she have done something? Or would she be doing exactly what she was doing now?

 In her mind she could see Lazlo’s blue eyes boring into her. [i]”What are you trying to say?”[/i] There were a hundred things she had wanted to say and they had all stemmed from the same place. [i]”I’m afraid of you and I don’t trust you.”[/i] Not with Ellie. Not with herself. But of course she hadn’t said anything. She’d just quietly studied the water forming on the outside of her glass and said the names Federation controlled planets alphabetically in her head. It was a trick she’d learned as a child to calm her over active and occasionally over emotional mind. It was easy, mindless, and only kept her attention only until she got to the fifth and Quincy had come strolling through the doors.

[b]”He’s nice to Ms. Ellie,”[/b] Gunther said interrupting the tense silence, [b]”Did you see how he carried her?”[/b] Ryen had and could almost classify Lazlo’s actions as gallant. If it had been Gunther who had done the carrying instead, Ryen would have filed the scene under heroic with just a dash of romance.

[b]”It was [i]nice[/i] of him.”[/b] Her emphasis on the third word made it clear she thought nothing of the sort.

The solider cracked a smile. [b]”Watch yourself, kid, you almost sound jealous.”[/b] His tone had been joking but the mechanic was having none of it. 

[b]“Jealousy would imply that I wanted to be liked.”[/b] The words fell from Ryen’s mouth almost automatically. They were from the screenplay “Ferdinando of Aceli” that one her second year linguist instructor had made the class read from. The plot line had been a little dull but the female lead had been amazing. 

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, the next moment Lazlo walked back through the door. Gunther immediately sprung to his feet to meet him and Ryen’s studied the fingerprint smudge on her glass. Within moments the captain was assuring them of Ellie’s recovery at sitting back at the table. 

Ryen visibly stiffened when he addressed her. [b]”So… I would advise that you avoid all possible injury or you may find yourself at his disposal.”[/b]

The surface of Syrae was hardly a comparison to the chill that had crept in the room. Ryen picked up the glass and took a sip, allowing herself time to organize her words. A slight crease knit her brow as adrenaline funneled into her veins. Gunther was the first respond but hers was quickly on its heels.

[b]”I find Quicy to be both trustworthy [i]and[/i] competent-”[/b] Still she continued to stare at her glass. [b]”he already treated the arm you dislocated-”[/b] She had planned to stop there but torrent of anger and frustration continued to push her along. Fueled by the fears and frustration of the day it grew and grew. [b]”and it seems like on this ship, he has his work cut out for him… captain.”[/b] Only on the last word did she have enough will to look at him. Ice blue eyes narrowed with a mixture of anger and blame. She didn’t know what she found in his and she didn’t waste time finding out. Instead, she stood up and walked out the mess hall.

It wasn’t until her compartment door slid snugly closed behind her that Ryen allowed herself to cry. Flinging herself onto her bed she buried her face into a firm pillow that smelled of stale starch. Wet pink and green streaks from her Hopper’s Day make-up formed on its white surface, water colors of grief. Gingerly she brought it to her chest and curled into a ball. Outside her window the blackness of space went on and on.

As she cried her mind flitted around like a butterfly trapped under a glass jar. At first all she could think about was her father’s death and all the things should have said to him and then things she wished they’d done. Next came all the questions she’d wanted to ask and always had been too afraid of. Where had he come from? Why had he escaped to Syrae? Why had he installed a chip in her head? Had she always just been some experiment to him? Who was after him? Why? Where should she go? What should she do? Who should she trust? And would those people give up or would she have to keep running forever?

No matter how hard she tried, she knew she didn’t have any of the answers squirreled away in her brain. She’d started off the day so sure of herself and ever since she’ heard the news she felt like every single decision had been wrong. She should have just talked to the police. She should have looked for a different ship at the docks. She never should have joined Lazlo’s crew. She never should have said those things to him. [i]”I can get through this,”[/i] Ryen tried to console herself, [i]”Somehow.”[/i]