Charmed I'm Sure, top gun

Date: 2009-07-19 07:24 am (UTC)
"Morning, sir," Kara said, saluting. Sun shone down on her field and lit the old school. Her hair glinted above an instructor's dress uniform.

"Captain Thrace," answered the commander. He didn't quite smile but the deep furrows of his face lay soft. "No class?"

"They're all in sims tests right now and think I'm judging their records," Kara said. "The extra pressure's always a great balancer on these tests."

"When do you judge their records?" Commander Adama asked, and his brows narrowed slightly.

"To be honest, sir, over a nice pint," Kara answered. And waited, because he'd surprised her by not asking it at their first meeting, but now the question had to come...

"You're rather young for a flight instructor, aren't you?"

Not suspicious or dismissive yet. Kara tossed him a hint of a confident grin. "Two years after graduation--it was a request that surprised more than you and me."

She watched him nod slowly, deliberately. She waited for the pointed questions disguised as curiosity. She prepared for the need to explain that his son Zak was not a protege she was mishandling.

"Top gun, eh?" Adama mused suddenly.

She shrugged, vaguely surprised.

"Talent like that, why didn't you take a battlestar post?"

Her eyebrow rose a little but she didn't betray that he'd been out of her norm, and now presented an interesting challenge. "At this time of life, I like having little young things and their talents as putty in my hands," she said, but the quirk of her mouth mitigated a little of the implication. "Flying formation? Nah." She gave him a bold look, "Now, if you ever had a CAG position to offer..." She shrugged. The conversation was hers to direct, and that bit would turn him off this bent.

He nodded again, thinking. Then, "Maybe someday."

Again she held back surprise. "Maybe."

He nodded his farewell and walked off, a proud old man who spoke like a father as well as a commander.

Kara watched. She'd not been thoroughly open. Freedom, not power, brought her here. And like before, long before, an inner longing for the vast liberty of space spoke more to her than the accompanying narrow metal corridors.

But she walked back to her school on sunlit paths, and this life was still good. It'd take more than one Adama to shake her commitment.
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