the familiar hum of the ship's engine was the dominating sound in the room.
scritch, scritch went the pencil as it looped across the paper, lost in the other sound.
she was sprawled out on the floor of the bridge, her hair splayed out across her back, one foot rising lazily up every now and again.
she looked at the numbers on the paper, and then looked at them some more. she glanced away, looked at the control panel and the captain's chair. then she looked back to the paper and drew a line on it, and then some new numbers.
he stepped up beside her, looked down at what she was writing.
"One million two hundred sixty thousand three hundred and thirty-two times seven million eight hundred thousand and twenty-four...plus two." his voice was almost a dead monotone, but she could hear the slight scoff in his voice. "Why plus two?"
she rolled onto her side and looked up at him, pushing some hair away from her face with the eraser of her pencil.
"why not plus two?" she asked, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
he looked at the paper again and said "Where's the work for it?"
"work?"
"The calculations."
"i did it in my head..."
"In your head."
she nodded and flopped back onto her stomach, making up another problem and staring at it before writing out the answer.
"Aren't you just a regular little wunderkind." the sarcasm was biting.
"ich bin ein Wunderkind nicht," she said softly, beginning to draw lines through the multiplication problems on the paper.
she didn't stop until they were all crossed out.
"So tell me," he said, lowering himself into a seat, "why you do that."
she pushed herself up and sat on her knees, picking the paper up and beginning to fold it slowly.
"i just do," she said. "i like numbers."
he watched her fold the paper up, and unfold it, and begin to fold it again. he shook his head slightly, thought the word pathetic, but did not say it out loud.
she set her pencil down delicately and stood, still folding the paper. she paused for a moment when she had unfolded it completely, looked at what was written and crossed out there. she made a face at it.
"things like this, they help me think. i do the math in my head and i think of things while the numbers rotate into place... my brother was better than me. faster. but i'm still good at it..."
"Was," he sad.
"you shush," came her quiet reply. she made a final crease and admired the paper airplane she had made.
"i'm going to bathe," she said blankly. she tossed the plane at him and turned to leave.
he snatched it out of the air before it could hit him in the face.
the door to the bridge hissed shut. she was gone.
he looked at the airplane. he began to crumple it, the harsh noise of crinkling paper reaching his ears - and then he paused, and he unfolded it.
multiplication problems for ridiculously large numbers littered the page, their answers written neatly in her relaxed hand beneath them. all of them were lightly shaded out.
they made a shape on the paper there, a sort of loop.
a zero.
he smirked and stood.
the pencil was plucked up off of the floor. the door slid open.
snap cried the pencil as he broke it in two.
the door hissed shut again.