To his credit, Jack had Evvy safely behind closed doors, at least a little distracted by the plastic water bottle in her hands, when she first felt Hitachi pull.
Pull. The kid had half a dozen terms for everything she didn't understand -- or just couldn't explain, as Jack oft suspected Evvy understood far more than she let on. Knowing was own of them. Pulling was another, perhaps the more insidious side of the former. The knowing, Jack thought, was the main reason Evvy had been sent along on this suicide mission at all, though her pyrokinesis still ranked far beyond many of the more experienced wielders back on earth. And while the girl still experienced admittedly powerful outbursts of her fire, for example when she was angry, hurt, or frightened (though the supercooled cuff she wore around her neck helped with that), she seemed to have an impressive ability to exert, if not entirely control, her other ability. The scientists on earth had called it 'precognitive empathy'. Evvy just called it Knowing, big K. Whatever it was, it allowed Evvy to predict negative occurrences: anything that caused someone in her immediate (and growing) vicinity pain, or, in some cases, intense fear, would alert her, via that same pain or panic. It was a strange and unruly gift, but the sheer weight of it, doctors and physicists suspected, had not only caused Evvy to age differently, but also given her an almost supernatural ability to read and manipulate other people.
Jack had been baffled and confused at hearing the longer description of her 'gifts' until experiencing them, as most did, first hand: in his case, he'd been running a training simulation. Though it had only been three years ago, Evvy had been much "younger" than, appearing only four or five years of age at the most. They had both been at the training compound for a little under six months, and Evvy's powers were still unpredictable enough that most of the time, they kept her well away from the others, unless it was a group training. Jack, having just returned from his own brand of physical training, had been about to find something to eat when Evvy, walking past and shivering beneath the over-sized cuff around her neck, had suddenly screamed and gone limp, the pain of the coming accident too much for the toddler. Jack, startled, paused and stuck his head around the corner to ogle at the little girl, as they'd all been doing back then -- and had been saved from the blast in the kitchen, triggered by a gas leak and a faulty pilot light.
It would be another three months -- another fateful accident -- before he and Evvy started speaking. But some part of him, he knew, had trusted her then and there.
The pulling was a little different...and for the life of him, Jack could not understand it. Many 'mutants' thought of their gifts as curses, instead of the obvious evolutionary improvements that they were. But Evvy...or rather the pull Evvy described...what benefit did that offer her? It seemed the Knowing came as a two-sided, somewhat ironic coin. He'd heard the old adage half a dozen times, and Evvy by now, at least a thousand more, always along the lines of knowledge and responsibility being inseparable. And whatever it meant for anyone else, Jack had never seen it more literally than in Evvy. Because once she knew something bad was going to happen to someone -- even if that bad thing was already in progress -- she was drawn, compelled, nearly forced -- pulled -- to interfere.
Like now.
"It's alright, kasai. It'll pass. He'll be okay. You know he'll be alright." Jack's voice was surprisingly calm, all things considered. Evvy was strong for her size, and there weren't many she'd fight harder to get to than Hitachi. Jack had only just managed to get her up onto one of the rewarming beds, where she'd stubbornly refused to lay down, but had all too eagerly taken the first, second, and now third bottles of water he offered, when her body went rigid and the bottle fell from her hands. Jack, like Elia down the hall, calmly swept into action, standing before Evvy to put a hand on either cheek, forcing her to look at him. Or trying to.
"Evvy," he said, his voice holding a tone of caution. "Stay with me."
And she'd looked past him, almost through him, exactly as he'd known she would, bring her tiny hands up to push his away from her.
"I just hafta go see him," she said, edging down from the table. And then Hitachi must have woken in earnest, because Evvy made a half sound like a strangled yelp of surprise, and her knees buckled the moment they hit the floor. Jack was half tempted to go check on Hitachi himself, but he didn't dare leave Evvy alone. She'd only follow and then get in the way trying to help, like she always did. Or at least like she was always accused of doing.
Instead, Jack stooped and caught Evvy before she could fall all the way to the floor, scooping her into his arms as he sat, pulling her into his lap and holding her there even as her struggles went from meek to frustrated to panicked.
"Jack, you don't understand," she told him, wrenching (carefully) at his arms, trying to wriggle free of his grip. He was secretly, guiltily glad she'd just woken from cryo. Evvy was tiny, but she was fast, and she was determined. Despite his mother-hen status, he wasn't feeling quite 100% himself, and didn't exactly relish the idea of chasing her down.
"I just have to see him, I can help, I know what he wants, I can tell the others, Jack, I have to -- !"
"I know, kasai. I know. He'll be okay. Just wait it out. You know there's nothing you can do."
"I have to try!" Evvy argued, her cheeks flushed. "I...I have...I have to..."
Jack read the sudden tension in her back and arms for what it was, shoving an empty pail beneath her head just as all the water she'd chugged decided to make its escape. Jack sighed, only half relaxing as Evvy stopped fighting for a second to void her stomach, the nausea finally overwhelming her, just like it always did.
"I know you do, aedi. I know." And he did. That was the truly awful thing about the Pull. If Evvy tried to fight those compulsions to go, to help, to stop whatever 'bad thing' she'd predicted from happening, her body exacted revenge. After...however many years of nausea and migraines, tremors and muscle aches, Evvy was all but immune to them. A significant portion of her training had involved simply learning to "breathe through" the pull when she was unable (or unwilling, rare as it was) to help. But everyone got a little rusty following a three-year nap.
And besides...it was Hitachi.
Evvy made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a sob as she retched again, now shivering in his lap, though the fight at least seemed to have gone out of her. Jack took the opportunity to press a cool hand to her sweaty forehead, sighing when she didn't pull away, wincing when she cleared her throat to argue, however hoarsely.
"J-Jack...lemme help. I have to help. I have to try. Please."
Jack shut his eyes, selfishly glad for the moment that there was no one else here to see this -- to see him -- as he swallowed hard against something that felt dangerously close to tears.
He'd forgotten how much he hated this.
"Shh," he soothed helplessly, pulling Evvy back against him as the first wave of nausea began to pass. She was still fighting, he could feel that even with his eyes closed. But the retching had taken the bulk of her strength, which he figured was maybe not such a bad thing for the moment. "It's alright, kasai. It's almost over."
With his eyes closed, he didn't notice the blue LED light on the inside of her cold collar was turning purple, edging into red.
--
In the cryochamber, it was quiet, or at least quieter than it had been a few moments before. No one spoke; the alarms had died into steady, insistent beeping. Hitachi's breathing was calming, and Tai could no longer hear her heart pounding quiet so loudly in her ears. Not six hours awake, and already the ship had sounded two medical emergency alarms -- that without counting little Evvy down the hall. Was this what it was going to be like for the rest of their time here? A new medical emergency every minute until she or Elia, or both burned out? Three years ago, it would have undone Tai. She had always been a sensitive child, but seeing people in pain reduced her to tears or desperate panic or worse. There had been times she'd returned home late from her EMT job, virtually inconsolable, when her only recourse had been to crawl into bed with Kohe and cry until she fell asleep.
Now? Now, Tai didn't say a word as she handed off the breathing mask and knelt on the other side of Hitachi's bed to drape the thick blanket over his shoulders. She held it there with one hand, and with the other, traced a circle in the air. The cryochamber was dim and cool, and the sphere that suddenly grew into a silvery, glowing existence would not provide the warmth the panicked teenager needed, but it would be enough until Elia could get him breathing again. An experienced observer might have noticed something like a wince cross Tai's face when it first became evident that neither of their efforts were doing anything to help the blue-eyed young man, but by the time Kyle was shoving the potted tree into her hands, Tai's expression was once more the essence of calm.
In the quiet, tired moments that followed as Hitachi began to calm, Cole stretched and swallowed a stream of quiet cursing.
Christ. He hadn't yet been awake...what, 20, 30 minutes? And already his crew, both new and old, were proving...maybe they weren't quite so ready for this mission as he'd thought.
He'd been working with them -- most of them -- for nearly a year now, whipping the otherwise wayward group into a team, or as near to one as they were likely to get. They'd trained hard, even the kids, going up against every conceivable threat: starvation, abandonment, separation, injuries. And yet here they were now, not an hour into their mission, hell just waking up, and already...disaster.
Well. No. That wasn't fair. Not disaster. It had not gone as smoothly as he might have hoped, but he hadn't been hired to weather smooth seas. And Elia had handled Hitachi, and the younger twin her elder sister. Jack had been...Jack, but he, too, had risen to the occasion, spiriting young Evvy away before she could make Hitachi's situation worse. For whatever medical emergencies had been presented, their small medical team had disposed of them easily enough. Curious, Cole switched his gaze from Hitachi to the younger twin -- Tai. Quiet, professional, her expression not quiet serene, but just shy of blank. There hung a heavy sense of duty around her, the same Nat was seeing in her sister, although with Tai there was an air of tenderness where Kohe was all rigid control.
Still. He could not deny she'd done her job. And he knew there was a good chance she'd see worse in the field. He could only hope she kept as cool a head then.
For now, there were more pressing matters.
Like sussing out whatever the hell Tavorn had just said.
Cole blinked then frowned as if something had just occurred to him.
"Wait," he said. "I'm sorry, Doc...you tellin' me...what, the kid was awake before you woke him? Him, and Evvy, too?"
"Not the way you're thinking," Tai said quietly. She gave the back of Hitachi's neck a gentle squeeze, leaving the small orb of light there to warm him until they could afford a more precise means, and stood, studying her own tablet, the calm but curious expression never so much as shifting.
"The spikes in brain activity indicate some higher function -- beyond dreaming or basic biological maintenance -- though the cryostasis would have kept them in likely periods of paralysis. They didn't age, they didn't starve, they couldn't...couldn't move, couldn't react." Tai paused just briefly, swallowing around the swell of pity and horror in her gut that rose at the thought. This was not the time. She knew that. "But...yes. For all intents and purposes, they were awake."
Cole gaped, feeling more than a little nauseas, and wondered if maybe he wasn't quite over the effects of the cryosickness yet himself.
"For three years?"
Tai shrugged. "It's hard to say." She only half understood what she was seeing, really. Cole was right -- consciousness, even semi-consciousness should have been impossible during cryo half half a dozen different reasons. But it would explain how both Hitachi and Evvy had woken so quickly to lucidity, despite the waking processes being cut short. "The girl's brain activity remains more or less consistent from the time she was put to sleep, and up until the last...three months or so," Tai went on, distracted. "And here..."
Now, Tai did frown as she scrolled down through the information. For the first time since she'd woken, a real, naked emotion crossed her face. Not quite horror, not quite confusion, but perhaps somewhere in between.
Even Cole noticed.
"What?" he demanded. "Report."
Tai almost started, looking up as if surprised to find she was still standing in a room with other people. Just as quickly, her expression smoothed, and she smiled her bedside smile. "Just checking those dates," she said easily. "There's a definite pattern here, though I'll need time to analyze it more carefully."
Cole watched her for a moment before shaking his head.
"Table it for now. Everyone's awake, so I'm calling the briefing in twenty minutes. You two stay here to wrap up. See to the kids, then come join us up on the bridge when you can. I'll start sending people down to see you for the half physical later this evening."
"What're we doing 'til then?"
Cole turned to see Jack, his expression just shy of surly, though now it was exhausted, too.
"Where's -- ?"
"Sleeping," Jack answered, his tone making it very clear he wasn't planning on talking about Evvy any more than he had to. "And yeah, Tavorn, she drank the water. Three bottles of it." That she'd then thrown it all up would be apparent soon enough. Jack didn't see the need to share it with everyone in the room.
Instead, he brushed past Tai and Elia both to stand over Hitachi's bed before breaking into a tired grin.
"Look who's up," he quipped. "Took you long enough, kid. Thought you were never gonna join the party."
Tai watched the pair carefully. Jack's voice was calm, measured, even teasing...but she knew that trick all too well. Still, she said nothing, merely watching, then offering a water bottle to Jack -- and freezing as he put a hand out to take it.
"Neamh," she swore, violet eyes going wide. "What happened to your arm?"
The calm, if somewhat strained smile on Jack's face cooled abruptly to a scowled as ice blue eyes jumped from Hitachi to settle on Tai so quickly, she would have stepped back...if she'd noticed at all. As it were, she was staring at the angry red burn on the underside of Jack's arm, running from his bicep nearly down to his wrist.
In an instant, Jack clapped his arm back to his side. If it hurt, his face didn't show it.
"Nothing," he snarled, reaching out with the other hand. "Give me the bottle."
Tai offered the bottle, her own expression returning once again to calm. "Here," she said sagely. "But you should let me see -- "
"It's. Fine," he spat. "Or do I have to show you."
"Akiyama." Cole's tone brooked no argument. Jack didn't even look up, still watching Tai, his eyes holding a clear challenge.
To his surprise, she didn't back down.
"Show me," she said quietly. "Prove to me you're alright."
It was the very last thing even Tai expected to hear from her own mouth, and for a moment, she could not begin to guess where it had come from.
...only, no. No, that was a lie. She knew exactly what had made her say as much. Just like she knew why she could calmly move around offering health and help even though she was scared to death inside.
Her expression faltered for a minute, and then she was looking away, blushing.
"I...I mean I can treat that burn later. You -- you should -- I'll go prepare the examination rooms. Excuse me."
Tai had fled down the hall in an instant, leaving a cold spot in her wake.