No Time for Play

[Ethan Neufeld 0]

The sky was black outside, but it was early in the morning by the clocks and Ethan was wide awake. On his hands and feet he steadily pushed out fifty repetitions in four sets; sometimes from a front-leaning rest position others from a decline, feet propped up on his bunk. Next came four more sets of fifty sit-ups each and then fifteen pull-ups each. The Qob didn't offer much space or equipment, but he was already settling into a comfortable routine. As a Klingon ship she at least offered some ledges with a good grip-depth and his cabin was large enough to do the basics. Running and other activities would take a bit more creativity. But if he could keep up his health-conscious habits on Xorax while pretending to be a stuffy Vulcan, he would find a way to keep them up here. It wasn't just about health. He enjoyed the process – setting goals and meeting challenges – and the burn wasn't simply physical; it relieved stress. For a few hours he could push things away from his mind and come back with a little more clarity.

 

Though he knew better, it already felt like the problem had never existed. He didn't hear another word on Taurik before he left the colony. In this case, 'no news' wasn't good or bad, it just meant 'nothing new'. But that was probably good in its way. Luck must have had a pity streak. At least that was the rough idea floating around in Ethan's head as the Qob continued to steam away from Xorax. Taurik would find it harder to prove his theory now that they were gone. That wouldn't stop Taurik from trying. Still, it was nice not to feel that risk breathing so close to his neck.

 

Ethan's overall demeanor had relaxed once they rendezvoused with the Verbistul and Lucky Hand, particularly with Pher. His true species wasn't yet common knowledge among the crew. The act was slowly eroding away, but there were still some he addressed behind the mask of Selek, including Joe to an extent. With Pher he'd completely given up the Vulcan pretenses early on and found he liked talking to her as himself. She wasn't ready to write his biography, but over the course of the last few days she'd come to know more about Ethan than her crewmates did. It was probably easier for her to see him for what he really was: human, through and through.

 

To the rest he gave mixed impressions. He probably came off like a confused Vulcan hybrid that couldn't decide between one half or the other, or maybe just some fanatic that desperately wanted to be Vulcan. Either way, they didn't seem all that worried about the details. He at least adjusted to spaceflight and close quarters quicker than expected; he'd given off a sort of land 'lubberness' at first.

 

In some ways he might have appeared strange. He didn't leave quarters very often, but never tried to avoid a social encounter; he talked with just about anyone who wanted to talk with him. More than once he'd been seen without his Vulcan robes. The Qob was lightly on privacy. Eventually, he'd given up on the costume and took to wearing plain t-shirts and utilities – definitely not Vulcan attire. And it was impossible to hide his penchant for habitual, intense exercise once he was aboard. He honestly wasn't sure if that was normal for a Vulcan or not and didn't really care.

 

Soora, on the other hand, probably still disliked him and still thought he was a terrible Vulcan. He wondered if she was displeased with their first conversation aboard ship, but she kept a tight cap and wasn't easy to read. He hadn't exactly played fair in her game of 'test the fake Vulcan'. If there was animosity between Ethan and any one crewmember it was with Soora, though not for his part. Posturing wasn't his thing. Her behavior made Ethan feel more indifferent toward her than he suspected she seemed to feel toward him.

 

He was pretending to be Vulcan, but he'd never made any claim that he could do it well. The act only had to serve its purpose and, so far, the signs said it was doing that just fine. It must have been a rare vein of Vulcan pride that had her feeling unfriendly about it. Vulcan or not Vulcan; it was the pot calling the kettle black in his opinion. She reminded him more of an uptight human teenager than any of the few Vulcans he'd had the honest pleasure of knowing.

 

How many really knew without a doubt that he wasn't Vulcan? It was hard to tell how fast or far scuttlebutt about him had or would travel on the Qob. He had the impression Pher hadn't revealed much; no one was asking questions or demanding answers yet. Maybe he had connected with her. He hoped he'd connected with her; that at least he wouldn't wake up one morning in front of the Qob's collective crosshairs.

 

They'd grown a bit friendlier since that chat in his quarters. Not that 'friendlier' meant too much between them – a glance, smile or an overtone to their conversations. So far they'd only established that Pher might want him to 'chase' and he wasn't running away. It could have been pure facetiousness on her part; the thought had crossed his mind. All of it could have been superficial and he didn't put that possibility past her, given what she'd told him of her history on New Risa. It was a common skill in that trade wasn't it; convincing the customer you were just as happy as they were? But he really didn't know her well enough to take even a stabbing guess at her intentions and he wasn't in a hurry to try – the truth could be a disappointment.

 

Ethan could only account for himself and he rarely spoke or acted insincerely. He wasn't running. The attraction was there and thriving; it had to be obvious to her. He had conceded that she was attractive more than once: to himself, to Rodney and even to her. He wasn't sidestepping her or finding excuses to walk the other way when he saw her. He was comfortable in her presence and talked with her a bit more than anyone else. But that wasn't synonymous with chasing.

 

Fact of the matter was there was one thing Ethan thought the Vulcans had right: self-control. And he wasn't going to actively pursue her or anything else like it. That was for other people, other times and other places. He was who he was. And right now, he was too busy for play.

Edited May 27, 2011 by Ethan Neufeld