56. Animus

“Morning Kyra. Did you sleep well,” said Trev, his eyes quickly and self consciously breaking eye contact for fear she would see right through him. Surely she must know his feelings. Then again, who couldn’t look at her brilliant blue eyes, coal black hair, and high cheek bones and not be mesmerized. The thought of hiding in the crowd, of being another “deer in the highlights” gave him some nervous comfort of anonymity.

“Like a baby Trev,” cooed Kyra with a wink. She knew Trev had feelings for her and quite frankly had no patience for his inability to speak directly and speak from the heart. Then again, she had always been rather cool toward Trev and she could understand him not wanting to put his chin forward only to have it whacked back into reality. Perhaps we all need our little fantasies to ease the friction of daily life she thought.

“You mentioned to Goldie an urgent matter. What’s up,” said Kyra, her playful tone gone as quickly as the wink. She was not one to beat around the bush. Small talk was just a waste of time. Her Got something to say, then just say it, attitude earned her both respect and dislike in equal measure. No nonsense is how most would describe her style of interaction. She enjoyed philosophical conversation with someone who could match her passion and knowledge. Otherwise, her pragmatic side had a way of hitting you over the head when you weren’t looking.

“Come take a look at this and tell me what you see,” monotoned Trev, subconsciously matching Kyra’s change in tone. He stepped back from the microscope and motioned her to step in. The sight of her lithe body moving with the grace of a cat stalking its prey sent the customary shiver down his spine, not to mention the sudden spontaneous and audible intake of breathe she must have heard.

Kyra, heard, but had long since filtered out such responses from males. Bending over the scope, her long agile fingers found the focus knob. Slowing rotating the knob with precise pressure and application she could have swore she heard another spontaneous intake, which brought forth a wicked grin she hoped her position concealed. No sense in torturing the boy for no good reason she mused.

Ahh, there it was, focus. “Holy cow, Trev, how long have you been sitting on this?” her tone firm but without accusation or blame. Time was the question, not blame.

“I notified Goldie as soon as I saw it,” Trev responded like a like a bucket of cold water had just hit him in the face.

“Trev, do you know what we have here?” again her tone was flat, without emotion that betrayed her concern.

“Looks like the animus virus,” Trev shot back with a false sense of indignation. He had the medical background, why wouldn’t he know. “How it got on board, . . .”
Kyra cut him off. Time was not on their side. There would be time later to explore how, assuming they were still around that is.

“Prepare Golden Tree soup for everyone on board ASAP.”

“Rog, can you hear me,” Kyra spoke into her comm.

“Rog here darlin’.” No one could take the piss out of Kyra quite like Rog. He seemed to be the only male inoculated against her charms and he knew it.

“Meet me in my quarters, pronto.”

“Yes ma’am. One question darlin’.”

“What would that be Rog,” Kyra deadpanned with a slight roll of her eyes to Trev.

“What took you so long to ask,” Rog teased.

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