@fcrrous ( tony stark! )
Pavel Chekov has been a member of Roscosmos for eleven months, four weeks, and three days. Sixteen, they had deemed, was too young -- even for someone who had, at interview, solved the mathematical theorem which had allowed the agency’s failing satellite project to revive itself. Without the use of a calculator or computer.
On his seventeenth birthday, they relented.
He has not been into space, though he longs to. He has not made any real friends, though he longs for that, too. He is too different, too inexperienced, too young. No matter how capable he may be, there is a reluctance to accept that he finds weighs heavily.
But then there had been this.
( Somebody has asked to interview you for a new project.
What project?
The details are classified.
Where is the project?
It will be based in America. )
America. Not quite space, but a whole new world nevertheless.
He’s nervous. Without any details on the project -- on what they’re looking for, on why he has been requested or who has done the requesting, there’s little by the way of preparation he can do. Effort has been made in shirt and jacket -- a little too big, mother’s words still padding them out, you’ll grow into them, Pashenka, you’ll be tall like your father. Now that he’s here, a little early to the agreed time and place, there is no place for nerves. He does his best to tuck them away.
“ --- my name is Pavel Chekov. I am here from Roscosmos. For an interview.” His name is noted, smile given, chair indicated. He sits, and he waits, and he wonders where he will end up.
