Bullshit. Pleides had seen her records—even if she had shown some loose-cannon behavior, there was no way she could have made it so high without intelligence and motivation.
“I was hoping for a little celebration before I started looking for which commanders I could strong-arm into accepting me,” Kara finished with a slight tip of her head, the impression of humility plastered on her face to mask her words. It looked out of place there, and Pleides liked that.
Pleides gave her a tight smile. “I can answer that for you, Thrace. None of them.” Kara was still young enough that she blinked at that sally, and Pleides continued in, arms crossed over her chest as she looked down her nose at the young officer before her. “You’re not going up into the Fleet, Lieutenant. What do they do up there, besides dusting controls once a month in case of attack? Thwart the occasional act of terrorism? No, Thrace, that’s not for you.”
Kara’s eyes had hardened just a little, almost glittering. “Sir, I might not have plans this very second...doesn’t mean I’m advertising myself as needing advice,” she said coolly.
“This isn’t advice,” Pleides informed her with a purse of her lips. Kara’s face tightened, and Pleides smiled. “I want you, Thrace. Not on my ship, because what would I do with you there? No, I want you for the Academy.”
Kara eyed her slowly. “You do have the right Thrace, don’t you?”
Pleides narrowed in on the point. “You’ve shown a tendency to insubordination, Thrace, but you’re making assumptions if you think that isn’t exactly why I’m talking to you right now. You’ve got enthusiasm. You’ve got brilliance. Your type doesn’t take to others’ command so well, despite training. But put you in command yourself, and you lead to victory.”
“You want me to teach?” Kara asked, the mask clearly down a little as her question was genuine, and she blinked.
“The only frontline we have left with peace upon us,” Pleides said, taking a step closer and crossing her arms tighter. She held Kara’s gaze steadily. “You’re a bit overqualified, yes, but I’m sure all those new cadets at the Academy will find a way to make you forget it. They’ve learned at least a dozen new tricks since you were in their shoes.”
Kara raised her eyebrows, and Pleides could sense an argument coming, because Kara wasn’t the sort to just let people tell her the way the world worked. So Pleides cut it short, didn’t let her have time to think of objections. “You don’t have to, of course. It’s not easy work. And I’m sure you can remember all those pranks you pulled on your instructors, all the while thinking that you were ever so glad not to have their job. I did, at least, and I don’t think we’re that much different, Thrace. It’s not the place to go for slackers, so if your original attempt to brush me off was true, and you think you graduated by the skin of your teeth...well, frak me, but I think I’d rather walk off and stick to my fantasy of you as a better officer than that.”
Kara opened her mouth, and at that moment Pleides pursed her lips and saluted sharply. Kara had to pull herself straight and salute back, but her eyes burned. There was nothing Pleides liked better than seeing a competitive spirit teased alight.
“Think about your future plans, Thrace,” the Admiral said as she turned to leave, walking across the field away from the graduation group.
She didn’t look back until she’d reached her bench, retrieving her things and preparing to depart. Kara still stood by the drinks table, but she wasn’t laughing or swigging anything down. Pleides smiled to herself and called it a job well done. She’d call her friend at the Academy to tell them to send out feelers to one Kara Thrace, and she’d leave out exactly what kind of firestorm that one Kara Thrace would probably be. The Academy needed that just as much as they needed Kara’s enthusiasm, which post-war military minds so often lacked.
Of course, Admiral Pleides couldn’t say that even she knew just what a firestorm Kara was. That was what made her special. Pleides knew that Kara would likely surprise them all.
Marked and Chosen part 2, graduation
“I was hoping for a little celebration before I started looking for which commanders I could strong-arm into accepting me,” Kara finished with a slight tip of her head, the impression of humility plastered on her face to mask her words. It looked out of place there, and Pleides liked that.
Pleides gave her a tight smile. “I can answer that for you, Thrace. None of them.” Kara was still young enough that she blinked at that sally, and Pleides continued in, arms crossed over her chest as she looked down her nose at the young officer before her. “You’re not going up into the Fleet, Lieutenant. What do they do up there, besides dusting controls once a month in case of attack? Thwart the occasional act of terrorism? No, Thrace, that’s not for you.”
Kara’s eyes had hardened just a little, almost glittering. “Sir, I might not have plans this very second...doesn’t mean I’m advertising myself as needing advice,” she said coolly.
“This isn’t advice,” Pleides informed her with a purse of her lips. Kara’s face tightened, and Pleides smiled. “I want you, Thrace. Not on my ship, because what would I do with you there? No, I want you for the Academy.”
Kara eyed her slowly. “You do have the right Thrace, don’t you?”
Pleides narrowed in on the point. “You’ve shown a tendency to insubordination, Thrace, but you’re making assumptions if you think that isn’t exactly why I’m talking to you right now. You’ve got enthusiasm. You’ve got brilliance. Your type doesn’t take to others’ command so well, despite training. But put you in command yourself, and you lead to victory.”
“You want me to teach?” Kara asked, the mask clearly down a little as her question was genuine, and she blinked.
“The only frontline we have left with peace upon us,” Pleides said, taking a step closer and crossing her arms tighter. She held Kara’s gaze steadily. “You’re a bit overqualified, yes, but I’m sure all those new cadets at the Academy will find a way to make you forget it. They’ve learned at least a dozen new tricks since you were in their shoes.”
Kara raised her eyebrows, and Pleides could sense an argument coming, because Kara wasn’t the sort to just let people tell her the way the world worked. So Pleides cut it short, didn’t let her have time to think of objections. “You don’t have to, of course. It’s not easy work. And I’m sure you can remember all those pranks you pulled on your instructors, all the while thinking that you were ever so glad not to have their job. I did, at least, and I don’t think we’re that much different, Thrace. It’s not the place to go for slackers, so if your original attempt to brush me off was true, and you think you graduated by the skin of your teeth...well, frak me, but I think I’d rather walk off and stick to my fantasy of you as a better officer than that.”
Kara opened her mouth, and at that moment Pleides pursed her lips and saluted sharply. Kara had to pull herself straight and salute back, but her eyes burned. There was nothing Pleides liked better than seeing a competitive spirit teased alight.
“Think about your future plans, Thrace,” the Admiral said as she turned to leave, walking across the field away from the graduation group.
She didn’t look back until she’d reached her bench, retrieving her things and preparing to depart. Kara still stood by the drinks table, but she wasn’t laughing or swigging anything down. Pleides smiled to herself and called it a job well done. She’d call her friend at the Academy to tell them to send out feelers to one Kara Thrace, and she’d leave out exactly what kind of firestorm that one Kara Thrace would probably be. The Academy needed that just as much as they needed Kara’s enthusiasm, which post-war military minds so often lacked.
Of course, Admiral Pleides couldn’t say that even she knew just what a firestorm Kara was. That was what made her special. Pleides knew that Kara would likely surprise them all.