“You love it…” Ezra mused, studying Jacob’s face. How many times had he sat at the Captain’s table during mess on the ship, watched Jacob Duke, trying to determine his plans and objectives on their missions. Not that Ezra was trying to second-guess him; on the contrary, Ezra was trying to anticipate him. A good Space Force marines Commander worked in tandem with the Space Force Captain, prepared for whatever snap decisions the de facto leader made for the welfare and safety of his beloved ship.
And even with Jacob’s leadership and Ezra’s keen observations, nothing prepared them for the fate of the SS Kardashian. Nothing.
But a Captain without his ship was a lost man. Ezra at least just had to take his orders, move on and learn how to work as a high-level consultant instead of overseeing men. But Jacob Duke needed more than just an office job.
So naturally, he opted to take the most important office job in the country. In the world, even.
And despite all the politics of it, Ezra realized then that Duke genuinely loved the idea of assuming leadership once more. Ideally, of course. Honest, good-hearted idealism. The Democrat way.
Ezra almost wished he could switch parties, just to keep Jacob Duke himself so fucking honest and good. He’d handle the corruption and lobbyists and corporate greed embedded into politics; he already knew how.
Who knew. Maybe Jacob Duke knew too. He’d captained one of the largest ships in the fleet, after all.
His attention (how Jacob could tolerate the way Ezra just looked at him, no one will ever know) was taken by some waifish creature who looked so unprofessional that Ezra just stared in disbelief. And moreso when Jacob took the box of badges to sort himself.
Ezra suddenly looked around, and slowly realized. “Jesus. There are no droids here…don’t tell me you’re in Providence’s pocket, Captain.” Ezra teased, purposefully misinterpreting Jacob’s choices.
President Sousa’s man was First Husband, but Jacob was right; he wasn’t married. Which for a straight candidate looked odd, but for a gay candidate put the homophobes minds at ease. And naturally, Ezra breezed past the pointed and truthful remark about ‘FGOTUS’, only giving a little Republican laugh that intimated ‘oh, that homophobia is all in good fun, no harm’.
“If I were, then I’d insist on being First Man. It sounds very evolutionary and very creationist as well. See? I know how to be bi-partisan.” Ezra then couldn’t help but shake his head and chuckle.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this yourself,” he said, about the badges. “Why hire helpers if they’re just here to stand around in their activism-via-t-shirt slogan?”
The second the word Providence crosses Ezra’s lips, Jacob harnesses every scrap of willpower and restraint he has to not audibly scoff.
Why Ezra had signed on with them, Jacob can’t begin to fathom. Ezra, the Space Force hero, belonging to a church that decried space exploration and the discovery of extraterrestrial life to be some sort of Devil-made trick. Maybe Ezra just ignores that bit, maybe he only agrees with some parts and finds those particular parts powerfully resonant enough to discard the other part, who the fuck knows.
“Two birds with one stone,” he answers easily. “By not employing androids, I get the approval of the Democrat section who think they shouldn’t be used as slave labour, and the anti-android Republicans who are worried about human unemployment numbers. The only voters I don’t win over with it are the ones who think androids are necessary in the workforce, but hell, everyone’s a sucker for the hard-working American who gets his hands dirty.”
It’s more words than he usually says at one time, with the exception of speeches. So, of course, Jacob shoots Ezra a wry little smile, self-deprecative.
“Elise came up with that one.” Because being politically cunning wasn’t exactly Jacob’s strong suite. He was getting better at it, but not nearly as good as some: and that was why he’d hired the most cutthroat campaign manager he could find.
He starts sorting through the badges, occasionally glancing up at the bustle of people. Everything’s going smoothly, it seems. It’s not really his job to micromanage the campaign -- that’s up to the various coordinators -- but still, it puts him at ease.
“How progressive of you,” he congratulates at Ezra’s bi-partisan crack, snorting a laugh. “And I didn’t hire her to stand around in a slogan shirt. She’s a tech, a pretty fuckin’ good one.” Jacob glances up again; sure enough, she’s gone to help with the sound crew. “C’mon, Castillo, you can’t hate people just ‘cause you think they’re useless. I distinctly remember you getting on well enough with the rookie cadets on the Kardashian, and they couldn’t tell their ass from their elbows.”
