"Gregg," he chokes through hoarse whispers. "My name is Gregg."
He'd started coming too even as Willow used the torn remnants of my pants legs to bandage the openings in my arm. He is confused and disoriented, barely able to form words. Willow holds his hand, quietly patting him. I find it funny how she can run a gauntlet of emotions in mere minutes.
"Hi, Gregg. I'm Willow. This is Original," Willow says. I feel awkward and uncertain of myself. Moby is busy hiding behind my legs, peering shyly out at the newly resurrected soldier. "You suffered a pretty bad bite," Willow points out. She'd stripped off his shirt, exposing a ring of punctures around his middle. She is doing her best to disinfect and bind the cuts with our limited supplies. "The wounding goes below your waistline," she frowns. "Original," get his boots off. She grins broadly at him. "We're going to have to strip you down."
He winces as she washes out a puncture with alcohol gel. "Do what you have to. I'm grateful not to be dead."
I turn a deep color of red and green mixed as my face flushes when she strips off his blood soaked pants. Willow gives me a smug, knowing smile. "Never seen a naked male before?" she purrs.
I nod, hiding my eyes with my hands. Shyer Irkens tend to do that when they're embarrassed. "I'm not surprised," Willow answers. "As a simple librarian, you've probably had your mating urges surprised. It makes things simpler for our leaders. Irkens, and most species, are far more willing to obey a central idea without reproductive urges interfering."
I have to admit, I have very little clue what Willow is babbling about. That was okay, because Willow had gone into chatter mode, and wasn't about to let anyone else say anything anyway. "Now me," she says as she continues to work on his wounds. "I see naked males all the time. We're always trying to breed the better smeet, you know. You wouldn't believe the colors some of them turn when I enter the room and ask them to disrobe. Some of them, but some of them, it seems to encourage them. They think I'm going to mate with them or something, despite my lab coat. Boy, do they got a surprise when I clamp a cold metal sucker machine on their…" Willow pauses. "Oh, dear. Now you're turning colors, Original. Let's talk about something more pleasant. Let's talk about you."
"Me?" I ask. I hadn't imagined that Willow would be interested in subjects beyond herself.
"Yes," she says, taking my claw in hers without warning. "If we get out of this alive, promise me you'll study to take the scholarship test."
My breath catches in my throat. "The… scholarship test? But that's only for SMART Irkens!"
"What do you think you are?" Willow snaps. "Back there, when you were ready to fight me despite the fact that I'm combat trained and you're not, I saw real promise in you." Wouldn't that actually make me stupid, I thought, but didn't say anything. "You can't spend your life as a simple peg in the hole. You've got to do it."
"I can't. I'm not scholar material," I say, kicking the bloody can across the room.
Willow looks over at the sleeping Gregg, then stands up and grasps my shoulders. I struggle nervously in her strong grip. "Let me show you how much faith I have in you," she whispers, leaning in. I pull back, uncertain of what to do. Her face is only millimeters from mine when there comes three pounds at the door.
We both jump. Willow looks frankly irritated, but I am relieved. What had she intended to do?
"Central Guards," a thick voice calls. "Is anyone in there?"
"Lissa? It's me, Original!" I cry brightly.
"We almost missed you, but we heard something rolling, and then we found this banged up SIR unit. Hey, call him off, will you? He's trying to chew our ankles off."
They carry Gregg away on a stretcher as Willow and I watch. Willow stood tall and strangely stoic as we listen to the wheels squeak down the still darkened hallways.
"The threat was taken care of by blasting the halls with a cleaning flame. Those beasties burned like toasted marshmallows," Lissa tells me as she guides Moby and me back to the incubator chamber.
"How did they get in?" I ask her.
"When we engaged the Meers, they forced us backwards. The things went up the engine shafts during the few moments the blades were stalled in order to reverse thrust direction. The Meers probably sicked them on us."
The incubator room was torn apart from the scuffle. I'd barely gotten any sleep, but nor had anyone else, and it is nearly time for me to report for my breakfast shift. I spend the few moments I have before I have to go tidying up my scattered belongings.
My fingers linger on a book I'd been given upon graduation to librarian. The cover reads, "So, you want to be a scholar?" I didn't… but Willow said… I moan softly, clutching the book to my chest in frustration.
That day at work was relatively slow. Everything was still down for repairs, so I really couldn't have done much if I'd wanted to. No one really wanted to read when last night's events were still fresh gossip, anyway. Finally, I give in. I pull open the pamphlet, which I'd stored in my pack for reasons beyond my own logic.
To take the test, it read, you must take a prep class. The test is given only once every 70 years, and the class only once every 50, so plan your timing well. To get into the class, you will need two signed letters of recommendation from high trainers and/or supervisors.
I sat the pamphlet down. That settles that, I think. My supervisor back on Capitalia had thought highly enough of me to send me to the Massive, that was true, but who would give me a second? My new supervisor didn't know me, and didn't seem to want to know me. I just didn't know anyone important.
I am leaving work when a shadow drops from the ceiling, nearly onto my back. "Hiya!" Willow cries, hanging upside down like a spider from its silk. I scream and fall over backwards, sending Moby running to avoid being crushed. "You thought about what I said, right?" she asks as she turns right side up.
How does she do that? I noticed her wrists and quickly changed the subject. "You don't have your bracelets on."
"Ppth," she snorts, waving a hand at me in disgust. "Bangles are so… out! High heeled boots are in," she says, waving an ankle in my face.
"Uh… very nice?" I ask, looking sideways at her. She strikes a pose, then turns serious.
"So, did you?"
"I couldn't get…"
"A supervisor's recommendation?" she asks. "Here you go," she smiles, shoving a disk into my hand. "I'm a supervisor in my area."
"But I don't work for you!" I protest.
"They don't care," Willow shrugs. "As for the other recommendation, I can find someone to give you that easy. I can set everything for you."
"Don't you have your own work to do?"
"Nuh-uh," she says, vigerously shaking her head. "Between conception season and birthing season we really don't do anything. We can't improve upon what we don't have to work with."
"Oh," I say, for lack of anything better to say.
"Heeeeeey…. I saw that boy who got your blood. He asked about you," she sing-sang. I find myself turning deep colors again.
"I'm sure he was just being polite," I reply sternly.
"He wanted to know if you were going to come see him. Lucky you, I told him yes," she says, pushing me out the door. I squeak in protest, but she ignores me as she push-drags me all the way to the teleporters. We're off to a little known hospital for soldiers in the heart of the capital of Irk. Maybe I can break away from her and visit my old friends at the library, I think hopefully. I'm too shy to go visit that guy again, as much as nice as he may be.
When we get there, I turn to Moby. "Never, ever let me wish on a star again," I intone as Willow continues to haul me through the hospital. A swinging door comes back and hits me in the face.
A couple of nurses are tiredly sipping down coffee, their clothes and antennae disheveled. A couple of MAAM, medical assistance and management, units trundle back and forth in the hall. Moby pauses to give one his full attention. I have to run back for him and carry him with me to Gregg's chamber.
Gregg raises his head up and grins when he sees us entering. "Hi," he calls. "I didn't honestly think you'd both come see me." His deep jade eyes seem to glow with happiness as we join him in the white folding chairs. "There's no doubt I owe my life to both of you. Is there some way I could repay you?" he asks innocently. Noticing the evil look growing on Willow's face, I come to the rescue.
"It was no big deal. We're in this war together."
"Most wouldn't do what you did, and…" he hesitates, blushing. "This is kind of silly, but I don't even know your name."
"My name is Original, and this is Willow. We told you then, but you were probably kinda confused."
He nods. "I know Willow."
"Everyone knows Willow!" she comments loudly, sweeping dramatically back. Gregg and I have to suppress giggles.
"So… what do you do for a living?" he asks, looking shyly in my direction.
"I'm…"
"She's going to be a scholar, right?" Willow shouts. I glare at her.
"Well, I don't know…" I say, my voice drifting off.
"I think that would be neat," Gregg says, nodding to show his approval. "I'm still in training, too. I want to be a major general someday. I'm studying military strategy."
"What are your hobbies?" I ask after a long pause, feeling a bit off.
"I'm kind of a loner. I like strategy games, and reading," he says sheepishly. My heart involuntarily misses a beat as I quietly reply to his comment.
"Me too."
~ ~ ~
Woooo! I finally figured out what the plot, exactly, of this fic is going to be! This is actually pretty much the middle of the story. So… keep reading until the pajamas come home. Or something.