Carbon Copies
(The Illustrious Crackpot)
"Numbuh Five, PLEASE!" The girl's voice, though crackled and distorted through the communications link, was filled with an all-too-audible irritation—but underscored by subtle concern. "All I'm asking is that you give her a chance."
"An' all Numbuh Five is sayin' is no!" the African-American snapped brusquely, voice cracking as she added a belated, half-mocking, "Sir."
A heavy sigh fizzled through the speakers, but the Supreme Leader would not give up. "Look, I know all this has been hard for you—it's been hard on me, too, BELIEVE me. But Numbuh Ten-Fifteen is very bright, she's scored EXTREMELY well on all of the practice assignments we've given her, AND she seems to get along well with most of the other operatives. I'm sure that if you took her on as a temporary recruit and observed her skills in a real mission situation, then maybe—"
"Numbuh Three-Sixty-Two!" The last ounce of patience had finally been used up, and a fist slammed down with a noise like a thunderclap. "If you keep tryin'a' dump any more new recruits on Sectah V, so help me Numbuh Five's gonna forget dat you're the Supreme Leader an' smack you up SO BAD dat—"
"YOU'RE OUT OF LINE, NUMBUH FIVE!"
The world shuddered with the loud, harsh tones, lashing out of the communicator as violently as they had out of their utterer. The full force of this horrible, intense rage hit the dark girl harder than a slap in the face, and when next she spoke, she was significantly more subdued.
"...Yer right, sir. Ah'm sorry. Ah lost mah head right den." However, the firm stubbornness was still there. "But Numbuh Five's not gonna take on anothah operative. No mattah whut threats ya start throwin' at her."
"Numbuh Five..."
There was a short, incredibly pregnant silence.
"Numbuh Five," the girl began again—quietly, professionally, but also with a driving sense of compassion, "you have to move on. If you say that Nigel...that Numbuh One isn't coming back, then I believe you, even if you won't give me your reasons. But you—all of you at Sector V—you can't go on like this forever. If you had a younger operative to mentor, or even just someone to keep the four of you occupied, you could let go of the past while still honoring Numbuh One's memory..."
She was cut off by a sigh.
"Again, Ah'm sorry, Sir—Ah realize jus' how much trouble all you up dere on Moonbase is goin' through tryin' ta' keep things movin' with Numbuh One gone an' everythang. An' I really am sorry dat Ah can't tell ya what happened ta' him, but we all promised ta' keep it secret."
"I know. And I realize that no amount of soda-powered horses could drag that information out of you. ...But still, won't you even CONSIDER taking on Numbuh Ten-Fifteen, or any of the other new—"
"It has nuthin' ta' do with dishonorin' Numbuh One's memory," the African-American went on, as if her superior had said nothing. "It's jus' dat...since th' beginnin', Sectah V's jus' been me, Numbuh One, Numbuh Two, an' Numbuhs Three an' Four."
"...But Numbuh Eleven...and Numbuh Nine, and—"
"Yeah, dey was dere too sometimes. But it was mos'ly jus' us five fer dat whole long haul. So Ah hope you'll understand dat we can't take on anyone else 'til the whole rest of us is gone—whethah from decommissionin' or somethin' else, Numbuh Five don't know, an' dat part don't really mattah."
She held her voice steady, and spoke with such power that, at that moment, the only things in existence were her words.
"The five a' us are Sectah V, evah since we entah'd the KND. An', as pieces of dat puzzle, every one of us is irreplaceable."