02-17-2018, 10:31 AM
For the first time in a very long time, Seventeen didn’t feel like the world had become a blur around him. In fact, the nap he took ended after a brief period of ninety minutes, when he was stirred from his sleep by a solid rap at his door. At first, he planned to ignore whoever needed him and return to his dreams. In his dreams, he was chasing his twins around the second-floor halls of their home, and his girlfriend was smiling to herself as she made them snacks in the kitchen down below. In this world, he hadn’t died, and Paige hadn’t gone AWOL. In this world, the twins and their parents were all happy, well-adjusted people who just happened to have magical superpowers.
Seventeen had nearly caught up to Piper and Cole when that quick succession of thuds on his steel door shattered the false reality of his dreams. Groaning, the cyborg clutched at the quilt and rolled away from the entrance with the vain hope that his interloper would give up their mission. Instead, a more feverish succession of smacks struck his door and resonated through his personal chambers.
“I’ll be there in a moment,” the cyborg groaned as he tossed off the covers and slid his legs over the side of the bed. After steeling himself for whatever new business had unfurled over the last two hours, he exited the comfort of his bed. His feet touched down onto the cold metal floors, and the sensation was more than enough to shock away the remaining stupor of a disturbed nap. Seventeen was one of the only crew members who kept their floors bare. As far back as he could remember, he enjoyed the morning shock of bare feet on cold stone or steel. It was a nice prelude to a fresh cup of coffee or an equally refreshing shot of vodka.
Haphazardly slipping back into his clothes, Seventeen made for the door. Before his finger found the button, he ran his hands through his hair to sort out any madness.
Once activated, the door slid into the wall to reveal a characteristically unsettled November Terra. Without bothering for the normal pleasantries, she crossed the threshold, shut the door behind herself, and then promptly began to pace in a tight circle in the cyborg’s private quarters. She performed all of this without eye contact or even a terse greeting of some sort.
While he was tempted to see how long the woman’s batteries would last, Seventeen quickly saw that his fellow soldier was genuinely upset. “What’s the matter, November?”
At the sound of her name, the woman paused and twisted her head toward the cyborg. For a brief moment, her expression conveyed some confusion, as if she didn’t realize where she was or who was talking to her. That initial appearance quickly melted as the grief that underlay it bubbled back to the surface. “Have you seen Trixie?”
“The head honcho?” Seventeen chuckled. “Nah, I haven’t seen here in a while.”
Terra’s entire body tensed at the sound of humor. She took a pair of steps toward the cyborg as her expression hardened. “When was the last time you saw her. Tell me, how long ago?”
Fuck.
The cyborg chewed his lower lip for a handful of moments as he tried to sort through the last few months. It was such a blur, and not the fun type brought about by one too many fifths of vodka. It was the bad blur that usually came with an unpleasant diagnosis from a doctor with terrible bedside manner. After churning through the haze of hallways and mess hall meals, Seventeen stumbled upon the best answer he could locate. “Maybe three weeks? Twenty days? Something like that. Why?”
The woman’s body remained tense, but the hostility that had flared up faded. “Because no one has seen here since then.”
“She works all those long hours, up in the command booth. You sure she hasn’t just vanished into her work?”
Once the words were out of his mouth, Seventeen almost regretted them, and he half-expected Terra to flare up once again. Instead, she seemed to almost deflate. “She wouldn’t cut off contact with me, even if she was busy with the task of running this place. We had that talk months ago. She wouldn’t do that to me a second time.”
Seventeen frowned. He didn’t bring up the fact that he had secretly harbored a little spite toward the redhead for being a no-show over the last few weeks. In his head, he had created all these humors cartoons about commandant Trixie sitting in her private lounge and sipping wine while all the ants toiled around the ship. All the while, Seventeen had been banished from field work. If something had actually happened to his friend-turned-invisible commander, he was going to feel like a grade-A asshole.
“We need to go,” the machine-hybrid spoke after a pregnant pause. He turned to his closet to retrieve his essentials.
“Go where? I’ve already been to her office and her private quarters. Nothing. It’s like no one has lived there.”
The knot in Seventeen’s stomach tightened.
I am a terrible friend. The fucking worst, holy shit.
Once he had everything he might need, he turned back to face Terra. “This is a bureaucratic police state, Nova. We’re just going to do the bureaucratic thing and find her superior.”
“Captain Skleros?”
The cybernetic warrior nodded his head and made for the door. “That’s the one. Let’s go. If she can’t help us, we’ll head all the way up to the big man. What’s the worst that can happen?”
Nova paused a few steps behind her fellow soldier. “They could disappear us too, you know.”
Seventeen smiled as he turned back to face his commanding officer’s consort. “You know how much red tape that’d be for them? They’d be swimming in the stuff.”
He quickly turned to lead the woman out on their journey to Captain Skleros’ downtown office. In his head, Seventeen knew that they could easily wind up joining Trixie, wherever she may be. The cyborg just hoped the redhead was in a jail cell and not the proverbial ditch on the side of the road.
Seventeen had nearly caught up to Piper and Cole when that quick succession of thuds on his steel door shattered the false reality of his dreams. Groaning, the cyborg clutched at the quilt and rolled away from the entrance with the vain hope that his interloper would give up their mission. Instead, a more feverish succession of smacks struck his door and resonated through his personal chambers.
“I’ll be there in a moment,” the cyborg groaned as he tossed off the covers and slid his legs over the side of the bed. After steeling himself for whatever new business had unfurled over the last two hours, he exited the comfort of his bed. His feet touched down onto the cold metal floors, and the sensation was more than enough to shock away the remaining stupor of a disturbed nap. Seventeen was one of the only crew members who kept their floors bare. As far back as he could remember, he enjoyed the morning shock of bare feet on cold stone or steel. It was a nice prelude to a fresh cup of coffee or an equally refreshing shot of vodka.
Haphazardly slipping back into his clothes, Seventeen made for the door. Before his finger found the button, he ran his hands through his hair to sort out any madness.
Once activated, the door slid into the wall to reveal a characteristically unsettled November Terra. Without bothering for the normal pleasantries, she crossed the threshold, shut the door behind herself, and then promptly began to pace in a tight circle in the cyborg’s private quarters. She performed all of this without eye contact or even a terse greeting of some sort.
While he was tempted to see how long the woman’s batteries would last, Seventeen quickly saw that his fellow soldier was genuinely upset. “What’s the matter, November?”
At the sound of her name, the woman paused and twisted her head toward the cyborg. For a brief moment, her expression conveyed some confusion, as if she didn’t realize where she was or who was talking to her. That initial appearance quickly melted as the grief that underlay it bubbled back to the surface. “Have you seen Trixie?”
“The head honcho?” Seventeen chuckled. “Nah, I haven’t seen here in a while.”
Terra’s entire body tensed at the sound of humor. She took a pair of steps toward the cyborg as her expression hardened. “When was the last time you saw her. Tell me, how long ago?”
Fuck.
The cyborg chewed his lower lip for a handful of moments as he tried to sort through the last few months. It was such a blur, and not the fun type brought about by one too many fifths of vodka. It was the bad blur that usually came with an unpleasant diagnosis from a doctor with terrible bedside manner. After churning through the haze of hallways and mess hall meals, Seventeen stumbled upon the best answer he could locate. “Maybe three weeks? Twenty days? Something like that. Why?”
The woman’s body remained tense, but the hostility that had flared up faded. “Because no one has seen here since then.”
“She works all those long hours, up in the command booth. You sure she hasn’t just vanished into her work?”
Once the words were out of his mouth, Seventeen almost regretted them, and he half-expected Terra to flare up once again. Instead, she seemed to almost deflate. “She wouldn’t cut off contact with me, even if she was busy with the task of running this place. We had that talk months ago. She wouldn’t do that to me a second time.”
Seventeen frowned. He didn’t bring up the fact that he had secretly harbored a little spite toward the redhead for being a no-show over the last few weeks. In his head, he had created all these humors cartoons about commandant Trixie sitting in her private lounge and sipping wine while all the ants toiled around the ship. All the while, Seventeen had been banished from field work. If something had actually happened to his friend-turned-invisible commander, he was going to feel like a grade-A asshole.
“We need to go,” the machine-hybrid spoke after a pregnant pause. He turned to his closet to retrieve his essentials.
“Go where? I’ve already been to her office and her private quarters. Nothing. It’s like no one has lived there.”
The knot in Seventeen’s stomach tightened.
I am a terrible friend. The fucking worst, holy shit.
Once he had everything he might need, he turned back to face Terra. “This is a bureaucratic police state, Nova. We’re just going to do the bureaucratic thing and find her superior.”
“Captain Skleros?”
The cybernetic warrior nodded his head and made for the door. “That’s the one. Let’s go. If she can’t help us, we’ll head all the way up to the big man. What’s the worst that can happen?”
Nova paused a few steps behind her fellow soldier. “They could disappear us too, you know.”
Seventeen smiled as he turned back to face his commanding officer’s consort. “You know how much red tape that’d be for them? They’d be swimming in the stuff.”
He quickly turned to lead the woman out on their journey to Captain Skleros’ downtown office. In his head, Seventeen knew that they could easily wind up joining Trixie, wherever she may be. The cyborg just hoped the redhead was in a jail cell and not the proverbial ditch on the side of the road.