Roscoe, starting to feel nervous, desperately searched for an excuse to leave. Despite his position, although an admittedly undeserved rank, he had no notion on how to lead. But he was experienced at least, being their senior, he could at least pretend.
Pulling his hand from his pocket, using it to flatten the creases in his jacket, and spoke to Rayai.
"Well, you can't keep it from me for long. I have important matters to attend to. Excuse me."
His pace quickened the further from her he went, and he felt something in his guts rise. Shutting the door to his room, he dimmed the lights, and began to check the room.
It was a tick he developed for his precious trinkets back home.
Home...
Driving the thought from his mind, he accessed the computer interface. As Captain, he had a duty to perform.
He ran and re-ran diagnostics for every sectioon of the ship at least twice, and at most eight times. He checked the dossiers and status of every crew member several more times before returning to the diagnostics.
If he discovered something wasn't right, he immediately set drones to repair them.
Feeling a bit more calm, he went through the mission parameters.
And he burned with rage anew.
They stole from him, everything, and what was he getting for this? He read the fruits of their task to come with a gross malice.
"They will be rewarded with their new experience."
It was a poor reason to take an unassuming, passive man and force him into a position like this for an indefinite amount of time.
But he realized they had no way of knowing how he felt...
He altered their course. Just out of spite.
This country, the outsiders called it Oman, was their new course.
