Chapter 3
He always got edgy before an official press release. Rebuilders he could manage, journos he couldn’t. Every time he stood up on the podium, his hands would clam up, his heart would race, and he’d turn into a meathead. Not, of course, that his mannerisms and vocabulary were ever that sophisticated – no matter how much he changed, you wouldn’t be able to strip the pirate from his bones completely.
“This should be an easy one,” Kathleen, head of the Academy’s press wing, assured him as she fussed about ensuring his collar and hair sat just right. “We’ll let them know that you narrowly averted a major disaster, and they’ll lap it up.”
“Right.”
“We’ve already handed most of the news agencies a list of preferred questions, so you shouldn’t get anything left of field. If you do, just repeat that you can’t comment about the mission.”
“Got it.”
“Of course you do. If you can fight the Rebuilders,” she lowered her voice, even though no one was in earshot, “You can knock a couple of journalists dead, right?”
“… Yeah.”
“Alright then, happy hunting.” With that, Kathleen took a step back, inclined her head as she assessed him one last time, and pointed toward the doors.
Josh wanted to run. Instead, he walked forward, step after goddamn step until the doors opened.
He faced the journalists.
The recording began.
And the questions.
“Special Commander Cook, how does it feel to be called a hero?”
“Special Commander, can you confirm reports your recent mission took you behind Barbarian lines?”
“… Ah,” Josh began. He could take on a horde of pirates, but this was already killing him.
“Special Commander Cook cannot confirm or deny any reports regarding his recent mission. Now, you all know that, so please don’t ask him again.” Kathleen strode off to his side and shot the assembled journos a curt but still friendly look.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
In honesty, he’d find it easier answering questions about his mission than about being a hero. Because, frankly, he wasn’t the guy they thought he was.
He had the kind of past that made him the exact opposite of a golden boy.
So every time they talked of his heroics, it made his back itch and his stomach clench.
“I’m really not that great,” he tried at one point.
“Don’t be modest,” one of the reporters rebuked him, “We’ve read the reports, we’ve seen the evidence – you’re a galactic hero.”
Josh wanted to disappear behind his collar. Instead, he shrugged.
“It’s all in a day’s work for a member of the Coalition.” Kathleen marched up and patted him on the shoulder. “The Special Commander here may not like to be thanked, but that isn’t going to stop the Academy Board from giving him a commendation.”
“… What?” Josh half turned to her.
He hadn’t heard anything about this. Then again, it was common practice for the Academy to spring surprises like this on unsuspecting “heroes,” just so the press could see their genuine reactions.
“That’s right, a full commendation will be added to his record this afternoon,” Kathleen continued. “Now, any more questions? Maybe nothing about Josh here being a hero, as he seems uncomfortable with them.” Kathleen chuckled heartily, and the journalists joined in.
Then someone put their hand up. “I have a different kind of question.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a woman. She was standing back from the rest of the crowd with her arms crossed and a recording ball hovering over her left shoulder.
He had the strangest feeling he should know her. Was she a famous reporter or something?
A second later, Kathleen answered his question as she gave the slightest huff and said, “Yes, Miss Chester?”
Chester. Damn. That was the daughter of Theodore Francis Chester III, one of the richest men in the galaxy.
“Sick of being called a hero? What exactly did you do before you joined the Academy, Mr. Cook?” Miss Chester asked.
Josh stiffened.
“He led the kind of life that prepared him for the tough missions we send him on. Tough missions that ensure all of us are safe,” Kathleen jumped in.
“Yeah, I’m not doubting that. I’d just like a little more detail on exactly what kind of life that was. How do you respond to reports from known mercenaries in the Scorpion Cluster who claim they used to work with you, Mr. Cooke?”
“He’s a Special Commander,” Kathleen jumped in.
“I think we all know that,” Mimi countered, “But he’s also a man. Now, does it make you uncomfortable to read some of the things your apparent ‘former colleagues’ said about you?”
“None of these reports have been confirmed. They are just the desperate and sad attempts of criminals to tarnish the record of one of our true heroes.” Kathleen actually took a step in front of him, as if she was ready to stave off a physical attack, rather than a verbal one.
“Okay then, so tell us exactly what kind of life Special Commander Cook led before he joined the Coalition. You said it was hard, you said he learned the kinds of things he needs to know to get him through the toughest of missions. What exactly does that entail?”
“I survived,” Josh managed in a low tone, the first time he’d spoken up in his own defense. It was also the first time he’d looked Miss Chester right in the eye.
“How?”
“I really don’t think someone like you would understand,” he said.
His words drew a muttering laugh from the assembled journalists.
“Why? Because I’m not the one standing on a podium receiving a hero’s commendation for a dangerous mission, even though answering a couple of simple questions seems impossible for you?”
Josh stiffened. He bristled, in fact. His gut instinct was to shout at Miss Chester that she had no goddamn idea what she was talking about. He couldn’t, though; he was surrounded by recording orbs.
Instead, he took a calming breath. Or at least he tried to.
“I think that’s enough for today,” Kathleen interrupted. “We need time to process the Special Commander’s commendation.”
Miss Chester didn’t push any further. She returned to the other side of the room, crossed her arms, and watched.
Despite the fact he’d been doing nothing but standing, he was out of breath.
In short order, Kathleen shepherded him out of the room.
She didn’t say a thing as the doors shut behind them. It was only after she’d fussed with her wrist device that she looked at him and smiled. “That went well.”
“It did?”
“Sure, you cut quite the figure of a hero with your broad chest and tall figure. The audience will lap it up.”
“… What about Miss Chester’s questions?”
“Her? No one’s going to believe anything she says. Trust me on that one. She’s been showing up to these events for years, but she’s never sold a story. I’m surprised her daddy hasn’t stepped in to help her out. Then again, maybe he’s embarrassed.” She shrugged.
Josh didn’t know what to say. On the one hand, he felt thankful Miss Chester and her inconvenient questions would be ignored, on the other, it felt… kind of wrong.
Everything she’d said was right: he did have the kind of past that ought to be brought into the light. And no, he wasn’t a hero.
“Anyway, you did great, Spec.” Kathleen beamed at him. “The Coalition needs more officers like you.”
Spec was shorthand around the Academy for special commander. Somehow, despite the fact there were a dozen other men and women holding that title, it had become his nickname too. Better than his previous one: Cold Bones. Back in his old life, he’d earned a reputation for cruel efficiency.
“Okay, I’ll see you next press briefing.” Kathleen gave a short wave as she exited the room into the corridor outside.
; Reluctantly, Josh followed.
Rather than take the usual route back to his office, he took a circuitous one. There was a nice little laneway in between the buildings that had a Japanese maple ensconced within patches of moss-covered rocks. There was even a koi pond. It was peaceful, the kind of peaceful he sure hadn’t grown up with. Thankfully, it was usually deserted too – there was a glass walkway connecting the command buildings, so why bother going outside?
He quickly became lost in his thoughts as he marched outside. In fact, as he approached the koi pond it took him too long to realize there was already someone there.
It was a woman. Miss Chester to be precise.
She looked up and caught his gaze.
“I can’t believe this.” He snorted. “You followed me. The interview is over, Miss Chester.”
“… What? I was already here.”
“Yeah, of course. Or did you do your research and figure out I always walk along this laneway?”
“You’re paranoid. Didn’t it enter your head that maybe you’re not the only one who likes this place?”
“Paranoid? You’ve been digging into my past, and you call me paranoid?” Josh spat.
He was aware he should calm down. No, he needed to calm down. Miss Chester had every right to investigate his past – he was a public figure. And, frankly, he had exactly the kind of past worth investigating.
He couldn’t quell his anger, though. It kept bubbling up at the sight of her.
“Look, it’s okay, I’ll leave.” She stood up and turned.
He wasn’t done.
“I heard about what you did. You ruined your Academy career, and now you want to ruin mine.”
She stopped.
He could see the side of her face. Her cheeks whitened as she pressed her lips together.
Anyone would be able to see he’d just hurt her. He didn’t care.
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Josh might have had a past, but so did Miss Chester.
…
For a second there, she’d been proud of herself. Out of all the other assembled reporters at that briefing, she’d been the only one to ask any real questions. Okay, no one had answered them, but that didn’t matter.
She’d been brave enough to ask.
Maybe the Academy had found it inconvenient, and maybe the other reporters had thought she was being unfair, that didn’t matter. A journalist was meant to uncover the truth, they weren’t meant to stand around and find new synonyms for the word hero.
Maybe it was growing up with her dad, but Mimi didn’t have the same kind of rosy view of the Academy that all her peers did. She appreciated it, and god knows she was thankful for its protection, but she also appreciated it had an image. One crafted carefully through every press briefing and report.
You see, despite the Academy’s rhetoric, the real world didn’t have heroes and golden boys. It had ordinary people who sometimes faced the harshest of scenarios. Painting the galaxy in shades of good and bad, of hero and villain, didn’t help anyone. It simplified incredibly complex situations and made people less likely to work hard enough to find lasting solutions.
So yeah, it might have been harsh to call Special Commander Cook up on his past. But it was necessary. No one was a hero, no matter how rosy their past. But Josh? It sounded like he was about as far away from a hero as it was possible to get.
Well, right now he was standing in front of her, seething.
“You’ve got some real nerve looking into my past when your own is just as tarnished.”
“That’s not fair,” she countered quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Fair? You want to talk to me about fair?” Special Commander Cook spat. “You grew up in the lap of luxury, shepherded and protected, with your every need cared for. You always have your father to turn to. Well, some of us aren’t that lucky, Miss Chester. Some of us had to survive in a hostile galaxy. Now, if you’re done morally judging me, get out of my way.”
Mimi stared up into his blazing gaze.
She’d always been taught that if you wanted to become a good journalist the very first thing you had to learn was psychology. Minds. Motivations. They were behind every single story. If you understood how a man’s mind ticked, you knew exactly why he did what he did. And if you could transmit that understanding to your readers, you would prove your worth.
So even though Cook’s gaze was fierce and his words even more so, she didn’t back down. Instead, she lifted her chin and continued to consider him. “I have faced hardship before, Special Commander Cook.”
“You had trouble figuring out how to spend all that money?”
“Every day I pick myself up. I walk back into an Academy full of cadets who hate me. They insult me, I pick myself back up. They tell me I can’t make a life for myself as a journalist, I pick myself back up. They hack into my recording orb and wipe it, and I pick myself back up. And I keep picking myself back up. You can storm away from me and ignore my questions, you can shout at me and berate me, but Special Commander Cook, I will pick myself back up.”
She watched his mouth open, she watched the anger spread across his features, then he hesitated. Maybe he actually heard her, or maybe he paused long enough to realize that a proper commander doesn’t shout at journalists. A proper commander is always calm, approachable, and authoritative. And never, ever abusive.
“So, Mr. Cook, are you going to answer my questions now?”
Slowly he closed his mouth, his lips pressing into a thin line. “No comment.” With that, he turned on his foot, his shoes digging into the grass. Then he stormed off.
Mimi could have followed him, but she knew enough about psychology to realize that despite his rank, Joshua Cook certainly wasn’t calm and approachable. If she pushed him, he’d likely throw her out a window.
So she comforted herself with the thought that there would always be tomorrow. She wouldn’t give up. She’d keep pushing on until she found out the truth. But she wouldn’t do it no matter the costs. There were lines she would never cross. And maybe that was the real reason Mimi couldn’t cut it as a journalist. Though she was desperate to get to the truth, sometimes to get to it, you had to hurt people.
So she would skirt the thin line between compassion and journalism for now.