Idiots in Space

2

The ceremony started by the usual starting speech about space and shit. It was very boring, even Julian himself was bored of the speech. After that someone brought a clipboard to him which had the names of Pilots and Seconds on it. He began reading. Half the people I didn't even know but Leir got paired with someone named Pete and Alice with some girl named Merida. I was kinda zoned out until I heard my name.

"Alexa? Alexa Eiden?" I jerked up and stumbled into the opening from the chairs embarrassed that they still haven't changed my name. It's been five fucking years. When I reached the stage I corrected him.

"It's Alexander. Sir." I managed to say. He made a swift apology and read the next name. Oh god.

"Taras Ivanov." He read flipping the page right after. Oh god no. Why him of all people! I internally screamed. We shook hands and walked off the right side of stage entering the backstage portion.

"This can't be right." Taras scowled, his accent strong and almost impossible to understand.

"Well I feel the same way. So stop complaining, they never change the pairings." A said like the sassy fuck I secretly am. The next thing that took place after this was the party. I hate parties but Leir is forcing me to go to this one. Social gatherings never have, and never will be my type of thing. At every party I go to someone gets laid, drunk, and goes missing for a solid five hours. There's a game that they like to play at parties, they call it the 'shot spin'. You take one or several shots, then someone spins you on an office chair; after that you have to walk around without falling. The main reason why I don't go to many parties is that when the majority of my class gets super horny when they're drunk; and I, the responsible sober, avoid everyone. And that my friends is why I'm still a virgin.

The ceremony ended and Taras and I decided to consult someone about the pairing. We ended up to talking to Julian.

"You sure you got the pairings right?" Taras asked. Julian nodded with a bland yet irritated expression.

"We make no mistakes,"

"But are you sure you want to put me with her-"

"Him-" I interrupted but was cut off.

"Ah shaddup queer." His aggressive accent made every word of the insult fierce.

"Fuckin' fight me." He jerked forwards slightly opening my arms and clenching my hands into a fist.

"What can a twig like you do?-" Taras made the same gesture that I had done previously.

"Boys-boys." Julian stepped between us. "Learn to get along or you both will end up dead in space." Taras proceeded to mutter something in Russian under his breath. "The decision is final." He waved us off. Well, I guess I'm stuck with this Russian cunt for a month. Heh that rhymes. I'm hilarious. I think random thoughts as I walk into another large gathering area located within the N.I.S.E center; that's where the party would be. Volunteers were setting up tables and preparing food. There was a pleasant aroma of cooked beef and other mouth watering goods. At this point in time after the ceremony the pilot and second hand are supposed to 'mingle'. But what's the point; I'm that one person who no one knows but I know almost everything about everyone. I'm not a stalker, but I just hear things and observe. Example: Taras meets up with his girlfriend at exactly eight o'clock every thursday. The popular girls go for coffee every morning at a local shop.

"Party starts at eight. Until then we're forced to communicate with each other." Taras said, hunched over at a table to my right.

"Right." I rolled my eyes and sat across from him. "In order to function properly as a team we have to actually get along."

"Sure Alexa." Taras smirked resting his elbows on the small circular table at which we sat.

"For starters. My name is Alex." If you haven't clued in already; I'm transgender. I changed my name five years ago but no one seemed to care. To them I'm still Alexa. Alex and Alexa are two different people!

"..right." Taras trailed off staring off into the distance with his auburn eyes. He proceeded to tap on the table; I noticed that his wrists were wrapped in bandages. Not because he's suicidal or anything, his brother tattooed a his own name 'Victor', on his wrist. But on his other wrist was a cleverly drawn bed. I've only seen the tattoos once; then he punched me in the face and told me to tell no one about them. Anyways-Victor is a part time tattoo artist and a pilot on planet Krebin.

"Just. Tell me more about yourself. We're gonna be in space together for god knows how long so-"

"Whatever. What do you want to know."

"Um.." I don't fucking know. What am I supposed to ask? Small talk-think small talk; no. Ask about his flight techniques? "Just to get an idea; how are you with the Gamma:6.8 controls."

"Why do you ask?"

"That's my main; that's what we're flying-"

"Good. It's difficult to get the hang of but I make it work." Jesus Taras, let me finish my sentences.

"That's great." I attempt to avoid Taras' intense stares. The Gamma:6.8 is one of the most difficult dual ships to master. Not to brag or anything I happen to be one of the best pilots in my class. On Krebin where we're headed is the 'school' type thing; there we train even more and go out there and blow enemy ships the fuck up. Only the best are able to make it there; it is super fucking strict. But I get a slide on a few rules because my dad happens to work there. Taras's brother also happens to be good friends with my dad. How great.

"How's your firing accuracy?" I ask him. The accuracy is very important- because if we get attacked we need self defense.

"Last testing said ninety-three." I nod. Damn, he's actually good. I think to myself. I decide to check the time. Six o'clock-well that went by oddly fast.

"I should be leaving now. Gotta pack and shit-" Once again I was cut off.

"M'kay" He leaves the table the same time as I do.