Hope – Part 3

I’d forgotten how nice it feels to have a story to keep me grounded.

Happy Holidays everyone. 

Hope – Part 3

The feed stopped as suddenly as it had started. The image hung in the air, brain matter dripping off the would-be rescuers as they screamed or retched or fainted. 

Admiral Eylo’ah was as still as a statue, hands clasped behind her ramrod-straight back. Her eyes, however, swept the room as if memorizing every detail. None met her gaze. Some were so lost in thought as they stared at the holographic display that they didn’t even notice her attention as it washed over them. Silence wound the tension in the room tighter as each second dragged by, Adjunct Willains began sweating. Again. He stood at the same attention that he had since the Admiral had graced everyone with her presence. 

When Adjunct Willains finally opened his mouth to end everyone’s suffering, the Admiral spoke. 

“No one here is responsible for what happened. None of us, from myself down to all of you, could have had the faintest idea that would occur once Prometheus was brought back to life. All of you handled a lethal situation as best as could be expected given what you encountered.”

The Admiral approached the Adjunct once again. This time, however, she did so with the solemn deportment of an officer handing a medal for valor to the next of kin. She extended her hand. Willains shook himself visibly before extending his own hand. He had no trouble meeting the Admirals’ gaze this time. They shook, acknowledging without words that she could never congratulate the team after everything that had happened. Failures and fatalities were not the things that the Navy praised. This was as close as all of them would get to a job well done. 

Eventually, the moment ended. Admiral Eylo’ah took a step back. Then she nodded, once. A smile ghosted across her lips. Her eyes sparkled with a hint of appreciation for the young Adjunct’s performance.

Then she began to undress.

Jaws around the room went slack as the Admiral stripped off her jacket and held it out to the side as if she expected the universe to manifest a servant to take it from her. 

Black gloved hands reached out of nowhere, taking the jacket with practiced care and placing it upon the collapsible hanger that had been built during the assistant’s noiseless approach. The Admiral removed her hat and held it out with the same casual disregard for the tall, heavily muscled woman who had been an unmoving and unobtrusive part of the background until her wordless summons. Underneath the gaudy monstrosity was a tight bun of vividly white hair held in place with crossed hair needles. 

The Admiral proceeded to remove the armored tunic she had worn underneath her jacket. So lost was she in removing the skin-tight garment that the squaddie crew neck she had on underneath that was leaving with the tunic. A gloved hand shot out, quick as lightning, to keep the crew neck and the Admirals’ dignity in place. The Admiral had still managed to show off her heavily scarred back and belly, gifts from the endless flights across seventy years. 

After tugging the armor off in a thoroughly non-Admiral fashion, Eylo’ah removed the twinned hair needles holding her bun in place. As she did, she ran her fingers through hair that was well past regulation length. The mute attendant gathered the proffered needles, placing them within her jacket in a plastek pocket protector clearly designed to hold them. 

Apparently, this was not the only time Admiral Eylo’ah had decided to disrobe in public.

Stripped down to her rank and file, she placed her hands on her hips as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Eylo’ah flashed a million watt smile to the thunderstruck Adjunct, and made a declaration full of energy that belied her 95 years.  

“It appears we are in need of a new test pilot. Lucky for you, one has just arrived!”

To be continued…

Eylofully,

The Unsheathed Quill