“He. A human from thePalmarian Rubayne. Their nav officer.”
The Onyx’s bushy eyebrows shoot up. “Wow. You went on adatewith DaviesMcKellan?Seriously? Are you frackingkiddingme?”
More confusion on my part. “I had dinner with him and we talked, yes. And a walk along the observational path after dinner. How do you know who he is? I did not tell you his name.” Maybe Fullstein scanned the berthing log and looked at the ship’s manifest. He does have a very good memory.
“For starters,” Fullstein says, “whodoesn’tfracking know who in holy hell’s brains Davies McKellan is? I mean, granted, my brother worked with him on a different ship, so I’m more likely to have heard of him than you, but the guy’s famous, man. And we work on a busy cargo station. Are you telling me you’veneverheard of him? He’s a hotshot. He holds the standing record for the highest certification scoreseveramong ether-jump navs.”
He cocks his head. “Youreallydon’t know who he is?”
“I had never heard of him before yesterday. I have not travelled the way you have. Yesterday was the first time I encountered him.”
“Okay, again,wow. Olarte, that guy is like a celebrity among ship captains and crews in the local cluster. Any captain with an ether-jump engine would readily sacrifice a vital body part to have Davies sitting in their nav chair. If ether-jump navigators have a patron saint they pray to, it’s probably Davies McKellan.”
I think about that. “He did not act like he is famous.”
“And how many famous people have you met in your life?”
“Possibly more than I previously realized, since I did not even know Davies was famous.”
Fullstein rolls his eyes and turns back to the control console. His prehensile tail flicks at me as if it has a mind of its own. “You’re something else, Olarte. I’ll give you that.”
I am not sure what Fullstein thinks I am, but I let the conversation end. It makes me vaguely uncomfortable to realize Davies is…well-known?
At no time last night did I get the feeling he was some sort of celebrity.
Then again, I did not ask him if he was because I had no reason to.
I am in the privacy of my small inner office later in the morning when my com unit alerts me to an incoming message.
It is from Davies.
Thanks again for last night. I had a lot of fun, and I’m really looking forward to tonight.
I sit back in my chair and try to process the unusual thrill that rolls through me as I study his message.
Should I have messaged him this morning? What are the expectations of this type of social interaction?
While it is not frowned upon if people take personal messages while on duty, as long as they are not engaged in critical functions, I tend not to do that.
Except for right now.
I ponder a response until I finally settle upon one I hope is correct.
Thank you. I had fun as well. I am also looking forward to tonight.
It is complete truth, and I do not believe it gives away too much, or implies anything I do not mean.
I send it and tuck my com unit away. But even as I am trying to study the energy consumption rates of the ships docked in my berthing arm, my mind wants to think about the way Davies’ brown eyes practically gleamed last night as he talked about what it is that he does.
He is passionate about his work, seemingly determined and focused regarding the path his life takes.
I envy that.
I envy his freedom, his spontaneity.
I am also afraid these next weeks might pass far too quickly for my liking.
* * * *
