I have to this galaxy, now it's time for
“What I’d imagine?” Jenna laughed, a harsh sound out of her young face. “Fuck, man, I don’t imagine shit. I imagine getting off of this damn planet, that’s about all I imagine. And even that’s pretty goddamn fuzzy.” Jenna had an imagination, sure. But she didn’t have a lot to use it on; her range of experience was limited and her time for daydreaming even more so.
“Was a few turians came through a couple weeks back,” she went on slowly. “Stopped at the embassy downtown. Ugly sons a’ bitches.” She’d only heard about the asari and salarians by hearsay, words and pictures gleaned from torn newspapers, and she had to admit they sounded intriguing…but it was all pretty far removed from her day-to-day.
She turned on her heel, approached one of the buildings, shoved the door open and stepped in out of the cold wind. She didn’t hold the door or check to see if Hackett was following. If he meant to make good on his offer, he’d come along. If not…well, then, she’d be rid of him.
He followed behind her, his hand pressing against the glass window of the door as he slipped into the restaurant. Inside it smelled like grease and salt, and he inhaled softly. It had been far too long since he had had a burger. His mouth was already beginning to water. Looking down at the girl he frowned, immediately continuing their conversation.
“Everyone imagines, even if they don’t realize it.” His gaze flicked up to the menu lining the wall behind the counters. “It’s part of what makes us human. You probably have some ideas of what space is about, and how exactly did you come by them? You might have heard things here and there in the news, but I can promise you most of what you think is true is your own conceptions.”
His lips twitched upwards as he figured out what he was going to order. “So, what are you going to get?” He could almost taste the burger. This was a brilliant idea on her part, and he’d definitely have to thank her for showing him this place. “Get whatever you want, and anything you might want to take home.”
“Jenna,” she returned; she had no intention of giving him her last name, not when there was a chance it might count against her when she went to enlist. She watched him with interest as he matched her pace, nodded slightly at his description of himself.“Admiral, right?” she asked. “I know what th’ bars mean.” She gestured at the bars on his jacket, the insignia that indicated his rank. She’d studied up on Alliance uniforms during her trips to the public library, and while she was no academic, she had a good memory.
They were nearing the burger joint she had suggested — a counter place, nothing fancy, but good for a quick bite (or so she’d found in her subtle investigations; this would be the first time she’d ever actually eaten food from them that someone had paid for).
“You been to space then, Hack?” she asked him casually, coming to a halt outside the building and folding her arms, looking up at him curiously. “You talked to the turians and all them?”
He looked down at his jacket and blinked in surprise. The bars glinted in the sunlight, and he reached up a hand to run his fingers over them. He always forgot that they were there for the galaxy to see, and for a moment he felt uncomfortable. “Yes, I’m an Admiral.”
Hackett looked up from the bars as she asked about space, his lips twisting into a grin. “Space?” He pondered his answer for a moment before turning to look down at the girl, Jenna, she had said her name was. “Yes I’ve been to space. It’s not exactly what you’d imagine it to be…” His voice trailed off as memory flashed before his eyes. Clearing his throat, he shook his head a little and readjusted his coat. “I’ve spoken with turians before, yes. Most are hostile towards humans due to some of the more violent actions we humans took towards them during the First Contact war.”
His gaze traveled over the buildings, trying to determine which was the burger joint she had suggested. “Have you ever seen a turian? I personally find that they look like dinosaurs or birds the first time you seem them, and I’ll admit I’m more interested in the asari and salarians.”
The young girl’s expression of astonishment grew markedly as she felt his grip recede from her wrist. Are you a dumbass or what? she thought, puzzled. Fuck the burgers, I’m gettin’ clear of this.And yet…he’d promised her food. Free food. And more than that — he was an officer, wearing that uniform that Liam had said she ought to wear one day. She’d probably have another chance to talk to a Fleeter before she joined up, not personally like this anyway.
So she rubbed absently at her wrist where his fingers had squeezed her and nodded warily. “Burgers. Yeah, okay. This way.” She wouldn’t let him get a grip on her again, that was all. As long as he didn’t have a grip on her, she knew she could get away from him if it came down to it. She’d run from younger, faster, stronger people than him before.
Turning away from him, she began to march down the street in the direction she’d indicated, not checking behind her to see if he was following.
He noticed the look of astonishment flash across her face, and he could almost hear the silent question. More than half of him was tempted to say something, but in the he held his tongue. Saying something might force her away. Silently, he watched her rub the spot on her wrist where his hand had been and frowned marginally. Had he held too hard? Probably not, he hoped,
She took off on him, and he blinked in surprise at her sudden departure. Adjusting his grip on his briefcase he took off after her, his long legs pumping hard to catch up wit her. As he drew up along side her, he turned his head and smiled at her. She seemed a nice enough kid.
“I don’t believe I introduced myself. Name’s Hackett. And as you probably figured out by now, I work for the Alliance, I’m in charge of the fifth fleet.”
She stared at him. “I—” she said and then stopped, tilted her head like a puzzled dog. “You ain’t gonna turn me in?” she asked, sounding utterly baffled. “I mean, it sounds great, but…” Her eyes narrowed warily.She was hungry, though, and while Sammy’d probably give her a cuff later for not bringing some back for the rest of the gang…she had to admit the idea of eating with a Fleet officer was pretty appealing. Long as she didn’t give her name, she could get away clean when the time was right, and meanwhile maybe learn something about the people she was hoping to join up with down the line.
“You like Italian?” she asked him slowly, tugging again at her trapped wrist absently. “Good Italian place round the corner. Nice people there; they give out some food free now and again. Or burgers, over on La Salle. What’s your poison, Admiral?” A little of her cockiness was coming back now that she felt more sure of the situation.
Offering her a small, assuring smile the admiral shook his head. A cold wind bit through his coat and she shivered and pulled it clsoer around his body. “No, I’m not.”
He promised, even if turning her in was probably what she needed. Though he doubted she’d ever thank him for it.
“It’s been a while since I’ve had Italian, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.” He fought back a shudder as he remembered his mother’s failed attempts to make Italian food. She had never been a good cook, but that was the one time he had ever really gotten sick because of it.
He looked down at her wrist and frowned. It was obvious she wanted him to let go, but if he did she might take off on him. Slowly he pulled his fingers away from her, his eyes narrowing and body tensing. If she ran, he wouldn’t do anything to stop her, though God knew he’d want to. Taking a deep breath he kept his voice light and friendly as he continued, “So burgers it is.”
Oh, shit.
The bastard was quicker than he looked; his hand had closed around her wrist like a vise before she knew what was happening. She tensed as if to run — but she knew Alliance officers knew how to fight, probably better than she did. She’d be asking for a bruising and a night in the pokey, at best.
So she scrunched her face up instead, did her best to look thin and pitiful. “Starvin’, sir. Uh, admiral,” she parroted, glancing again at the bars on his shoulder. “Ain’t had a thing all day.”
She wondered if he’d buy it. He seemed a smart sort, and frankly she wasn’t that much good at dissembling. She was a straight shooter when she spoke extensively at all, which wasn’t that often.
“Just tryin’ to get by, sir,” she went on, tugging experimentally at the weak point in his grip, between his thumb and fingers, to see if she could break it. Her mind flashed over the layout of the nearby streets; if she could make it three blocks before he caught her, she could get up on the El tracks and be home free.
Pity, really. He was reacting awful decently, all things considered. But this was no time to be thinkin’ about making friends.
He watched with a trace of amusement as her face scrunched up into what he assumed was supposed to look pitiful, but ended up looking rather comical. He kept his grip on her wrist tight, but not tight enough to do any real damage. If he was honest with himself, she didn’t need to play any part to evoke a sense of pity from him.
“So it would seem." He replied, glancing her coat a sharp glance. It looked a little too expensive for a kid who was going around pick pocketing to be wearing. He was half tempted to ask her which poor soul she had lifted t off of so he could repay them, but in the end he held his tongue.
Looking away from the young girl, he tried to find a nearby restaurant. However, he didn’t know the area very well, and with a sigh he turned back to look at her. "If you’re hungry I’ll take you out to get something to eat. But I have to admit I don’t know where to go.”
Hackett looked down at he girl with a kind smile. “Is that acceptable to you?”
It was a cold day in Chicago. The wind whipped bitterly between the downtown buildings. Among the crowds of tourists and businesspeople, a tan-skinned fifteen-year-old shrugged herself deeper into the stolen coat she was wearing and blew a foggy plume of breath between her teeth. Come on…gimme a good mark, day’s quota in one go and I can go home, she thought irritably, her eyes scanning the crowd around her absently.
The area surrounding the Alliance fleet base was usually a pretty good spot for pickpocketing. Jenna these days liked it too because the soldiers were there. Liam had been on her case for months to start thinking about going into the military, and while the idea still grated at her — that he was trying to get her to go away — she couldn’t deny the intrigue that lay in the shiny blue uniform, the idea of going to the stars.
She’d heard bits and pieces about human colonization offworld, about the aliens called batarians and the tension in the Skyllian Verge. She’d never seen a batarian — only heard of them, seen pictures; the only aliens she’d ever seen had been the occasional turian and asari tourists and some of the more hardcore drifter types who ended up living on the street alongside human gangs like the Reds. It was all very abstract and blurry in her mind, the idea of leaving the planet, going anywhere but the small patch of several miles she ranged in and called home.
Aha. She was jarred from her thoughts as she picked up on a square-shouldered, dark-haired man with a goatee and an Alliance uniform emerging from the base headquarters doorway. He looked a good mark; she couldn’t read the bars on his shoulder but he seemed the sort who might have a couple creds on him to spot her for dinner at least. A good start to the evening.
She flexed her fingers, ambled her way casually into his path, knocked up against him with one shoulder to jar his passage. “Whoops,” she said cheerfully. “Sorry, pal.” One hand came up to his shoulder to steady him, practiced distraction while the other pair delved to a pocket, searching…searching…
It had been a long day, and Hackett had gratefully left work as soon as he was able. Fights and arguments had broken out in every quarter this, and pin pointing the exact reason had taken up most of his day, which meant less time to get to the paperwork he had to do. Overseeing the questioning and punishment of over a dozen men had taken a toll on him, and in the end he has resigned himself to taking the leftover paperwork home with deal with.
He hated Chicago. Hated the cold, bitter winter that was so different from his home town. He left the building his office was situated in and pulled his thick coat tighter around his body trying to preserve some of the warmth that he had taken with him as he left his office. The coat was military issued and it had the bars of his status one each shoulder. He hated the way it screamed that he was an Alliance admiral, but he wasn’t going to argue when the coat kept him warm.
As he left the compound he ran into a young girl and nearly fell as he tried to steady himself. “Damn ice." He muttered as he cast a glance down at the snow covered cement. He felt her hands steadying him, and he sighed in relief, at least someone in this city was willing to he-
His eyes widened as he felt her fingers brush the inside of his pocket. A pick pocket. He glanced at her sharply, she looked underfeed and young and there was a hopeful light on her features. Grabbing her by the wrist he pulled her hand out of his pocket. "Stealing from an admiral will only land you in trouble, kid." He murmured kindly, not letting go of her wrist. "You hungry?”