The pain in her legs would not stop. Her lungs felt like they were about to burst. But she had to keep running. She couldn't stop, no matter what. She turned around another corner. When would this maze of scrap metal end? Finally, she came to two large chamber doors. She thrust the huge doors open with all of her might and collapsed as she entered the room. Her eyes were shut tight, her cheeks stained with tears. She could only listen as they read aloud. "He is faced with acts of treason and disloyalty to the Kids Next Door. He is not of decommissioning age but he disobeyed our strict up holdings, an offense which is to be punished through the act of decommission." She was forced to listen to the speech and to the children boo him as he was being walked to the decommissioning chamber. The tears were coming down harder. It was all lies. It had to be. He would never--
Beep-Beep! Beep-Beep! Beep-Beep!
The alarm clock had pulled Numbuh Eleven Hundred out of her dreams. She slowly raised her head off of one of the files to reveal a puddle of drool. She squinted her eyes as she tried to read the time on the clock. 12:00 P.M. A weary look of melancholy rested upon her face as she raised her mug of hot chocolate into the air. "Here's to another year of filing." She said aloud in a sullen voice.
Numbuh Eleven Hundred didn't always used to drink hot chocolate, y'know. Back at the Arctic Training Base she had once told her commanding officer that she drank coffee. He sent her to rehab. Apparently, only adults can drink coffee. If you drink coffee then you're like an adult. If you're like an adult, you're a threat to the organization. Therefore, no coffee for KND Operatives. They offered hot chocolate as an alternative, though. Jam-packed with sugar, it was enough to give you a boost in the morning. Besides, it's not exactly a warm climate in Antarctica; you need something to warm you up a bit.
Ah, the days at the Arctic Training Base were some of the best days of Numbuh Eleven Hundred's life. She smiled as she remembered her days there. Wait. No. She couldn't think about that. She wouldn't think about that. I left those days behind me, she reminded herself. It had been a year since that incident had happened. She needed to get over it. He was 12, anyway, so decommissioning wasn't too far off for him.
She perched her chin in her hand as she thought about this, placing her elbow in the center of her puddle of drool. She jerked her arm away from the wetness and groaned. Gradually, she lifted herself out of her chair and headed for the bathroom. Surely there'd be some paper towels in there. As she headed out the door an alarm sounded.
Uh-oh, she thought, I know that sound. It was the sound of an incoming transmission. An urgent one, too, because the warning lights were flashing all over the Moonbase. She whirled around and rushed over to a large machine. She looked up at the screen. The transmission was from Sector TA. "URGENT!" flashed on the screen.
Her hands shook as she reached for the button that would accept the transmission. She had never done this. She wasn't allowed to. She, after all, was a lowly secretary, too unimportant to deal with the critical matters of the KND. She just filed these matters. The transmission was overridden; Numbuh Eleven Hundred was forced to listen to it.
All she could see was a Christmas tree that had been neglected to have been taken down. Instead, the children had just wrapped a "Happy New Year!" banner around it. But, she could also hear screaming-- lots of screaming. She heard various other sounds, too, like gunfire, the crushing of wood, etc. but the screaming stuck out the most to her. She had never heard such screaming before. It was more of a wail, actually, but it held the most sorrow she had ever heard.
Just as unexpectedly as it had started, the transmission flickered out. It left an empty, black screen. Christina just stared at it for a moment. The children had obviously been invaded, but on New Years Day? The KND had made a contract with the adults and teens before—The "We-Don't-Touch-You-On-Holidays-You-Don't-Touch-Us-On-Holidays" Treaty. Why would they break this contract when they had been loyal to it for years? And what was with the screaming? She had never heard such a cry. She couldn't imagine anything could be dreadful enough for someone to wail like that.
What was she doing? She was just standing there, thinking about useless things. This was just the sort of behavior she'd get yelled at for. But, who should she call? Who should she disturb? Most importantly, who would listen?