Chapter Ten
Chapter 10
Location: CNC Office; Fort Bratumil; Nova Asteroidal Colony
“Commander Renata, Lieutenant Kirkpatrick, Pilot Yuy, General Kearn, sit down. I have some important news for you about one of the soldiers from this base. It’s about the Lilith pilot, Lieutenant Heather Kou, I am sure you are all aware of her recent absence.” The base operations manager, Bruken Meyers, stated sharply, shutting the lobby doors loudly behind his portly figure. Josh, too stunned to think for a moment, sat down hard, missing his intended chair, and dropping onto the hard faux wood floor. Every fashion in the colonies could be made cheaper and more durable out of plastic, but still look as classic as its Earth original.
“Where is she? Is she okay? Can I see her?” The Opiate pilot blurted out, blindly feeling for his chair, without taking his inquisitive eyes off Bruken. His stunned silence quickly turned into an annoying questionnaire as his wits began to return and he finally was able to put himself onto his seat. He came down hard on the cold metal, but it only deterred him from his questions for a second.
“Chill Josh, I’m sure it’s good news.” The Morpheus pilot placed a protective hand on Josh’s shoulder. In all of about three minutes, Julian watched Josh's hardened face melt with the mention of one person. He squeezed the muscles slightly before patting him in a brotherly fashion.
“Yes, I have good news and bad news. You’ll want the good news first, of course.” Bruken smiled slightly, still rather nervous about this meeting with some of the most dangerous pilots in space. Commander Renata’s cold stare did little to help his nerved.
“Get with in Meyers. We have busy schedules.” Commander Renata stiffened his spine even more than it had been, if that was physically possible. “Did the Lilith pilot return or not?”
“Yes, the Lieutenant Kou has returned.” Bruken gathered what courage he could muster, even though he was in no danger that he could discern. “You can see her in a minute. Ms. Jackson is assuring that she may have visitors with her doctor. However, her P.I.F.S. was damaged quite extensively in the battle she was sent to wage against the FECA forces. What we don’t understand is why she was only captured and not killed in the first place, but it is of little consequence. There are no physical signs of torture, but Ms. Kou is extremely fragile right now, as her will power has been strained to the limits in the past weeks. The doctor has informed me that you are not to mention the failure of her mission, or her capture. Those memories could trigger adverse reactions to her therapy, and she will be able to speak of them soon enough not to have to rush into a recap. The group nodded, therapy was often required after missions, whether they had been a success or not. Murder tends to not sit well on the human psyche, even for highly train soldiers. “Second,” Bruken continued, “she wasn’t alone when an unregistered tribune broke her out of the FECA military base. Two of the unregistered pilots are with her now. One, a computer manipulation expert, shared a cell with her, and the other, a machine repairs genius, broke the two of them out.”
Andrea opened the door to the lobby. “Sir, all clear,” she stated simply before turning and shutting the doors behind herself. Josh didn’t even hear the click of the door opening over the turmoil of thoughts racing through his mind. Would Heather forgive him? He could only pray she would see he had been worried and that he would be glad she was home.
Bruken sighed, “Come on. We can go now.” Mr. Meyers led the group down a few corridors, into a room decorated in only a fake potted palm and a set of matching wingback plaid chairs. Heather sat in a wheel chair, her feet propped up in a blond man’s lap, her hands folded demurely in her lap, the only testament to her condition. She spoke quietly to the two men, their long limbs comfortably disposed in the strange patterned chairs. “Lieutenant, you have visitors.” Bruken placed a hand gently on Heather’s shoulder, motioning unconsciously to the four people that had been led into the room.
“Lieutenant, I hope that wheel chair isn’t a permanent part of your uniform.” Drake stated simply, his voice cold, but not without care. Slowly, Heather set her feet on the floor, but she did not turn to face him.
“Commander Renata, I wouldn’t dare give you the satisfaction of having me permanently in a wheel chair, but you must be careful not to offend my dear friend, Levi.” It was then that thr group at the door realized that only one of the men had actually deposited himself in a chair. The other seemed completely at ease in a wheel chair made out of the same colors and alloys as his P.I.F.S. With her eyes closed tightly, Heather turned, now prepared to face the Commander and defend herself against his chilly reprimands.
“Heather, surely you don’t expect us to let him rip you apart now that you’re home.” Josh held his arms up a little, waiting for her, but trying not to be disappointed in case she no longer cared for him.
"Josh? JOSHUA?!" The Lilith pilot’s eyes widen and she launched herself out of her seat, sprinting easily as she crossed the linoleum floor and collapsed in his arms. Josh sighed and let Heather slump against him, his left arm curled around her, slowly stroking her back. She was home and he would not let her leave him again. Drake cleared his throat loudly for them to return to more formal positions, but they ignored him.
Andrea slid open the door and cleared her throat. “Sir? The other pilot is here.” Heather straightened herself and looked at Spencer and Levi, a quizative frown on her face.
“Good, good.” Bruken smiled. “You can send her in, Andrea.”
“Yes, sir.” Andrea bobbed her head, her thin glasses shifting down the slope of her nose. She pushed them up forcefully and disappeared behind the door again.
“Other pilot?” Heather asked, her eyebrows furrowing painfully in thought. She couldn’t remember any other prisoners rescued but herself and Levi, and she had walked the entire cellblock with Commander D’Morte. There weren’t that many prisoners in Boston because it was almost too easy to get in and out without detection. Prisoners of war had also become unfashionable with the current trend of the man-less space machines, the I.S.U.M.s.
“Yes, she busted herself out in the wake of Spencer’s attack and came here. She says she was captured from the Lunar Base Colony. Anyway, here she is. She’ll be staying with us for now.” Bruken stepped aside as the door was pushed open once more. Sharp staccato clicks announced the presence of a female pilot in heels instead of flat regulation boots.
“Sir, Pilot Bellini reporting for duty, sir.” A tall blonde with her hair pulled back in a ponytail saluted as she sauntered into the room. Instead of the normal pants suit, or even baggy rest clothes, the pilot wore a tight brown skirt, and a military button down. Heather and Levi shared puzzled glances. She did look awfully familiar, but they had not met her at the Blue Cove Compound in Boston. There had been very few regular citizens on the moon when Heather had fueled up before heading on her mission, and this pilot hadn’t been one of the few faces she could remember. From somewhere in the locked off part of her mind, warning signals trumpeted through Heather’s brain, but she couldn’t piece enough together to understand why this new girl would be no good in the base on their happy colony. Drake’s silent appraisal of the pilot’s outfit and ample charms made Heather rethink her quick refusal to take someone on at this junction in their training. Levi and Spencer had proven themselves, but this woman had not. The commander’s reaction had puzzled her enough to keep quiet for the moment.
The cause of Heather’s mental instability was never revealed to anyone but the base doctor, even though she received more than her fair share of pointed questions. Under orders, she was to see him on a regular basis after her close encounter with Commander D´Morte. Therapy would become essential to overcoming her fears, but she could never reveal to anyone what had caused them. Traitor was one word that she had to banish from her vocabulary. Heather never fully recovered from the mission, and her doctor warned her that pushing herself too hard, or even speaking of her last mission could cause a serious setback in her treatment. But, even before she was supposed to be released into the care of the other pilots, she stationed herself in the Lucedio Hangar and began making modifications to her tribune to accommodate her for advanced training hoping that in pushing her limits, she could prevent another accident. She also began working on adjustments to Levi’s P.I.F.S. to try to fix the problems in steering caused by his chair. Because they were made of the same alloy, they decided that it would be easier to have the machine lock onto the chair from the inside and transfer it to his body from the chair itself, instead of him actually having to move to pilot it. Spencer, learning his way easily around the base, found himself in Cordelia’s hangar fixing her weapons, and more often than not, trying to pry her off of his arms while he worked.
Word Count This Chapter: 1,617 words
Word Count Total: 10,231 words
Location: CNC Office; Fort Bratumil; Nova Asteroidal Colony
“Commander Renata, Lieutenant Kirkpatrick, Pilot Yuy, General Kearn, sit down. I have some important news for you about one of the soldiers from this base. It’s about the Lilith pilot, Lieutenant Heather Kou, I am sure you are all aware of her recent absence.” The base operations manager, Bruken Meyers, stated sharply, shutting the lobby doors loudly behind his portly figure. Josh, too stunned to think for a moment, sat down hard, missing his intended chair, and dropping onto the hard faux wood floor. Every fashion in the colonies could be made cheaper and more durable out of plastic, but still look as classic as its Earth original.
“Where is she? Is she okay? Can I see her?” The Opiate pilot blurted out, blindly feeling for his chair, without taking his inquisitive eyes off Bruken. His stunned silence quickly turned into an annoying questionnaire as his wits began to return and he finally was able to put himself onto his seat. He came down hard on the cold metal, but it only deterred him from his questions for a second.
“Chill Josh, I’m sure it’s good news.” The Morpheus pilot placed a protective hand on Josh’s shoulder. In all of about three minutes, Julian watched Josh's hardened face melt with the mention of one person. He squeezed the muscles slightly before patting him in a brotherly fashion.
“Yes, I have good news and bad news. You’ll want the good news first, of course.” Bruken smiled slightly, still rather nervous about this meeting with some of the most dangerous pilots in space. Commander Renata’s cold stare did little to help his nerved.
“Get with in Meyers. We have busy schedules.” Commander Renata stiffened his spine even more than it had been, if that was physically possible. “Did the Lilith pilot return or not?”
“Yes, the Lieutenant Kou has returned.” Bruken gathered what courage he could muster, even though he was in no danger that he could discern. “You can see her in a minute. Ms. Jackson is assuring that she may have visitors with her doctor. However, her P.I.F.S. was damaged quite extensively in the battle she was sent to wage against the FECA forces. What we don’t understand is why she was only captured and not killed in the first place, but it is of little consequence. There are no physical signs of torture, but Ms. Kou is extremely fragile right now, as her will power has been strained to the limits in the past weeks. The doctor has informed me that you are not to mention the failure of her mission, or her capture. Those memories could trigger adverse reactions to her therapy, and she will be able to speak of them soon enough not to have to rush into a recap. The group nodded, therapy was often required after missions, whether they had been a success or not. Murder tends to not sit well on the human psyche, even for highly train soldiers. “Second,” Bruken continued, “she wasn’t alone when an unregistered tribune broke her out of the FECA military base. Two of the unregistered pilots are with her now. One, a computer manipulation expert, shared a cell with her, and the other, a machine repairs genius, broke the two of them out.”
Andrea opened the door to the lobby. “Sir, all clear,” she stated simply before turning and shutting the doors behind herself. Josh didn’t even hear the click of the door opening over the turmoil of thoughts racing through his mind. Would Heather forgive him? He could only pray she would see he had been worried and that he would be glad she was home.
Bruken sighed, “Come on. We can go now.” Mr. Meyers led the group down a few corridors, into a room decorated in only a fake potted palm and a set of matching wingback plaid chairs. Heather sat in a wheel chair, her feet propped up in a blond man’s lap, her hands folded demurely in her lap, the only testament to her condition. She spoke quietly to the two men, their long limbs comfortably disposed in the strange patterned chairs. “Lieutenant, you have visitors.” Bruken placed a hand gently on Heather’s shoulder, motioning unconsciously to the four people that had been led into the room.
“Lieutenant, I hope that wheel chair isn’t a permanent part of your uniform.” Drake stated simply, his voice cold, but not without care. Slowly, Heather set her feet on the floor, but she did not turn to face him.
“Commander Renata, I wouldn’t dare give you the satisfaction of having me permanently in a wheel chair, but you must be careful not to offend my dear friend, Levi.” It was then that thr group at the door realized that only one of the men had actually deposited himself in a chair. The other seemed completely at ease in a wheel chair made out of the same colors and alloys as his P.I.F.S. With her eyes closed tightly, Heather turned, now prepared to face the Commander and defend herself against his chilly reprimands.
“Heather, surely you don’t expect us to let him rip you apart now that you’re home.” Josh held his arms up a little, waiting for her, but trying not to be disappointed in case she no longer cared for him.
"Josh? JOSHUA?!" The Lilith pilot’s eyes widen and she launched herself out of her seat, sprinting easily as she crossed the linoleum floor and collapsed in his arms. Josh sighed and let Heather slump against him, his left arm curled around her, slowly stroking her back. She was home and he would not let her leave him again. Drake cleared his throat loudly for them to return to more formal positions, but they ignored him.
Andrea slid open the door and cleared her throat. “Sir? The other pilot is here.” Heather straightened herself and looked at Spencer and Levi, a quizative frown on her face.
“Good, good.” Bruken smiled. “You can send her in, Andrea.”
“Yes, sir.” Andrea bobbed her head, her thin glasses shifting down the slope of her nose. She pushed them up forcefully and disappeared behind the door again.
“Other pilot?” Heather asked, her eyebrows furrowing painfully in thought. She couldn’t remember any other prisoners rescued but herself and Levi, and she had walked the entire cellblock with Commander D’Morte. There weren’t that many prisoners in Boston because it was almost too easy to get in and out without detection. Prisoners of war had also become unfashionable with the current trend of the man-less space machines, the I.S.U.M.s.
“Yes, she busted herself out in the wake of Spencer’s attack and came here. She says she was captured from the Lunar Base Colony. Anyway, here she is. She’ll be staying with us for now.” Bruken stepped aside as the door was pushed open once more. Sharp staccato clicks announced the presence of a female pilot in heels instead of flat regulation boots.
“Sir, Pilot Bellini reporting for duty, sir.” A tall blonde with her hair pulled back in a ponytail saluted as she sauntered into the room. Instead of the normal pants suit, or even baggy rest clothes, the pilot wore a tight brown skirt, and a military button down. Heather and Levi shared puzzled glances. She did look awfully familiar, but they had not met her at the Blue Cove Compound in Boston. There had been very few regular citizens on the moon when Heather had fueled up before heading on her mission, and this pilot hadn’t been one of the few faces she could remember. From somewhere in the locked off part of her mind, warning signals trumpeted through Heather’s brain, but she couldn’t piece enough together to understand why this new girl would be no good in the base on their happy colony. Drake’s silent appraisal of the pilot’s outfit and ample charms made Heather rethink her quick refusal to take someone on at this junction in their training. Levi and Spencer had proven themselves, but this woman had not. The commander’s reaction had puzzled her enough to keep quiet for the moment.
The cause of Heather’s mental instability was never revealed to anyone but the base doctor, even though she received more than her fair share of pointed questions. Under orders, she was to see him on a regular basis after her close encounter with Commander D´Morte. Therapy would become essential to overcoming her fears, but she could never reveal to anyone what had caused them. Traitor was one word that she had to banish from her vocabulary. Heather never fully recovered from the mission, and her doctor warned her that pushing herself too hard, or even speaking of her last mission could cause a serious setback in her treatment. But, even before she was supposed to be released into the care of the other pilots, she stationed herself in the Lucedio Hangar and began making modifications to her tribune to accommodate her for advanced training hoping that in pushing her limits, she could prevent another accident. She also began working on adjustments to Levi’s P.I.F.S. to try to fix the problems in steering caused by his chair. Because they were made of the same alloy, they decided that it would be easier to have the machine lock onto the chair from the inside and transfer it to his body from the chair itself, instead of him actually having to move to pilot it. Spencer, learning his way easily around the base, found himself in Cordelia’s hangar fixing her weapons, and more often than not, trying to pry her off of his arms while he worked.
Word Count This Chapter: 1,617 words
Word Count Total: 10,231 words
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