Chapter Eighteen

Incognito slogged over to the transport.  His feet were cold, his vision was blurry.  He was tired, and he stank horribly.  He stumbled inside, dropped the remains of his weapon by his seat and collapsed into it.  Almost immediately, sleep took him.

In his dreams, he replayed the events preceding today’s mission.  It had been such a short amount of time…

They got into the transport waiting for them in the tunnels underneath Sanctuary.  Irian hefted his case across the gap and looked for a seat.  There were plenty.  He turned back to Ouray.

“Are we it?”

His new mentor turned.  “For the moment, yes.  We have another stop to make.”

He settled into his seat.  Roughly at that point, his companion on this trip lugged her case across the gap and pushed it toward them.  She appeared to have some trouble with the weight of her new weapon.  “Trouble?”

“No.  I’m fine.”  She blew her bangs out of her face and sat down in a huff.  Irian returned to contemplating the tunnel outside.  Ouray took his seat, pressed a control on his armrest, and the transport began to move.  Irian was more than mildly surprised-their chairs faced each other, not forward.  The surprise was not missed.

“This is an automated transport.  I merely told it we were all inside.  One day, I’ll show you how it works.  Assuming, of course, you survive that long…”

“Brother, why do you say assuming?  Are we not good enough?  You’re always so gloomy.  And now you brought this one with you.  He’s not only from the wrong continent, he’s…”

“He’s what, sister?”

“Just look at him!  He’s hideous.  Look at that face!  Can he even see from that eye?  You expect him to be of use to us against the Harvest, and I bet he can’t even tell what’s coming at him from that side!  You’re wasting a gift!”

Irian sat there calmly.  He didn’t have to justify himself to this pouting brat.  His entry had been sealed, the day with the fish.  He saw just fine, anyway.  The face would heal over time, and one day it might not look so bad.  Not that he was concerned so much with appearance at this point.  He closed his eyes and settled back.

“What are you doing?  I’m gonna tell them at the next stop to toss you off.  Seriously…”

“Irian, mind letting her know why you’re here?”

The tessen whipped out of the obi, moving faster than sight.  Almost instantly, it appeared again, quivering in the headrest of the seat across from him.  Caught in it was a sheaf of ebony hair.  He never opened his eyes.

“Brother!!!  He cut off my HAIR!!!”

The shouting went on for the rest of the time to the next stop, and Ouray could not help but smile at his newest charge, even though it was a dangerous trick he had pulled.

“Irian, I’ll personally expect you to cover the cost of making that hair presentable again.”

Advertisements
Published in: on April 27, 2009 at 3:31 pm  Leave a Comment  

The URI to TrackBack this entry is: https://fataloptimization.wordpress.com/2009/04/27/chapter-eighteen/trackback/

RSS feed for comments on this post.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: