She didn't much like the sound of 'problem'. But by now more than just Alex's limbs had gone sluggish. Her brain was trying to contemplate how far of a secondary drop she'd soon be facing--and the math was coming out with colors--instead of numbers--for answers.
Squishy red? Or bluuue...
Her head lolled toward the tube entrance again, and she watched the blur of light overhead streak across her vision. "One?" she asked, and the 'n' dragged out for a century it seemed, as her tongue felt too thick to remove from the roof of her mouth.
And he must've had really broad shoulders to go with those boots she'd seen earlier and the heavy steps besides. Gray eyes shuttered slightly at that. Everyone on the Diem Vuong had been bigger than her, too. It was an affliction, it seemed, that she be made to be small and unnoticeable and unwanted. One she tried to counter with carefully honed skills and a less carefully honed than naturally present, saucy personality--so people didn't step all over her. Literally and figuratively. She giggled, and it was because she was now envisioning the man in charge of her rescue--crew of one and stranger who didn't want her crawling about the tunnels, no doubt--as a giant alien with four arms and feet large enough to squash her flat, should they ever be seen without boots.
Squiiiishy red...
Wait. Crew of one? Her brain rolled back to the pertinent information finally, though it didn't hold it for long. One was interesting. She'd never heard of a solo operated salvage rig. There was something about that which should have made her concerned.
Frell it, my toes are numb.
"You're not into salvage at all, are you?" is what her brain said she asked next. What came out was more like: "Yyya nnnnnata saaaallllvaaaaa all, ryaaa?"
In full shut-down mode from lack of nutrition and hydration and general systemic torment, Alex failed to process his useful suggestion. The string of words were interesting enough, like raw bits of metal scraping against each other. They reminded her of fixing panels in the belly of a space station, all clangy and riotous until the shift manager hollered for the engineering team to be more frelling careful with the delicate equipment. Why they were always so uptight about denting what were already broken panels, Alex never could figure out. Maybe they just didn't like the sound. It hadn't bothered her. Metal and metal on more metal still was the sound of industriousness. Usefulness. Hard work done well.
Admittedly, sometimes she worried so much about getting that one thing right, everything else fell by the wayside. The Agency had gotten to the point where they no longer made her aliases--she always gave away her real name at some point--and never stuck her in a position where she'd be anything but tackling engineering tasks as her 'cover job'--because they'd tried making her be a maid once and she'd wound up fixing a bad guy's vidscreen and upgrading all of his equipment so the Agency could no longer hack into it. Because she'd been bored and needed to tinker, and the bad guy had had really cool new tech that she'd wanted to play with.
She wasn't in the mood to play at present, though. She was in the mood to sleep. Maybe for the next year. Which is why she snorted as the string of industrious but nonsensical sounds continued and a cable dangled in front of her nose, then swatted at it like a cat with a loose coil of wire. "Hisssss?" was uttered. Which should have been "This?" and should have meant "What do I do with this thing?"
It tapped against the ladder and she vaguely noted it was some kind of cable. OH, her brain said loudly, and it seemed like it might have echoed in the tube as well. Climbing up could still be good. If I can remember how to do that. Alex yanked on every last shred of energy she had to wrestle with it. With one arm she tugged it under an armpit, then tried to turn so she could tie it to itself. The process took ages, and by the end she could barely lift her head. Soon though, it was snug around her chest and had a big, massive knot--which was definitely overkill and probably going to result in someone being very angry somewhere, she thought with a very quiet, exhausted giggle at her handiwork--but it seemed to hold. Well. She figured if she tried to climb and failed, it would suck less if she was still attached to the cable.
And now was as good a time as any, before everything at such low levels in her bloodstream decided to make themselves known.
Her vision blanked out for a moment and she shook her head. That's bizaaaa...
Then her limbs went slack and she toppled backward off the ladder.
Squishy red? Or bluuue...
Her head lolled toward the tube entrance again, and she watched the blur of light overhead streak across her vision. "One?" she asked, and the 'n' dragged out for a century it seemed, as her tongue felt too thick to remove from the roof of her mouth.
And he must've had really broad shoulders to go with those boots she'd seen earlier and the heavy steps besides. Gray eyes shuttered slightly at that. Everyone on the Diem Vuong had been bigger than her, too. It was an affliction, it seemed, that she be made to be small and unnoticeable and unwanted. One she tried to counter with carefully honed skills and a less carefully honed than naturally present, saucy personality--so people didn't step all over her. Literally and figuratively. She giggled, and it was because she was now envisioning the man in charge of her rescue--crew of one and stranger who didn't want her crawling about the tunnels, no doubt--as a giant alien with four arms and feet large enough to squash her flat, should they ever be seen without boots.
Squiiiishy red...
Wait. Crew of one? Her brain rolled back to the pertinent information finally, though it didn't hold it for long. One was interesting. She'd never heard of a solo operated salvage rig. There was something about that which should have made her concerned.
Frell it, my toes are numb.
"You're not into salvage at all, are you?" is what her brain said she asked next. What came out was more like: "Yyya nnnnnata saaaallllvaaaaa all, ryaaa?"
In full shut-down mode from lack of nutrition and hydration and general systemic torment, Alex failed to process his useful suggestion. The string of words were interesting enough, like raw bits of metal scraping against each other. They reminded her of fixing panels in the belly of a space station, all clangy and riotous until the shift manager hollered for the engineering team to be more frelling careful with the delicate equipment. Why they were always so uptight about denting what were already broken panels, Alex never could figure out. Maybe they just didn't like the sound. It hadn't bothered her. Metal and metal on more metal still was the sound of industriousness. Usefulness. Hard work done well.
Admittedly, sometimes she worried so much about getting that one thing right, everything else fell by the wayside. The Agency had gotten to the point where they no longer made her aliases--she always gave away her real name at some point--and never stuck her in a position where she'd be anything but tackling engineering tasks as her 'cover job'--because they'd tried making her be a maid once and she'd wound up fixing a bad guy's vidscreen and upgrading all of his equipment so the Agency could no longer hack into it. Because she'd been bored and needed to tinker, and the bad guy had had really cool new tech that she'd wanted to play with.
She wasn't in the mood to play at present, though. She was in the mood to sleep. Maybe for the next year. Which is why she snorted as the string of industrious but nonsensical sounds continued and a cable dangled in front of her nose, then swatted at it like a cat with a loose coil of wire. "Hisssss?" was uttered. Which should have been "This?" and should have meant "What do I do with this thing?"
It tapped against the ladder and she vaguely noted it was some kind of cable. OH, her brain said loudly, and it seemed like it might have echoed in the tube as well. Climbing up could still be good. If I can remember how to do that. Alex yanked on every last shred of energy she had to wrestle with it. With one arm she tugged it under an armpit, then tried to turn so she could tie it to itself. The process took ages, and by the end she could barely lift her head. Soon though, it was snug around her chest and had a big, massive knot--which was definitely overkill and probably going to result in someone being very angry somewhere, she thought with a very quiet, exhausted giggle at her handiwork--but it seemed to hold. Well. She figured if she tried to climb and failed, it would suck less if she was still attached to the cable.
And now was as good a time as any, before everything at such low levels in her bloodstream decided to make themselves known.
Her vision blanked out for a moment and she shook her head. That's bizaaaa...
Then her limbs went slack and she toppled backward off the ladder.
Dreams come in a size too big so we can grow into them.
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