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Part 14
Wes pushed his hoverjack through the warehouse, down the wide corridor that would eventually lead to his shelving unit, the one he had to fill. He didn't remember why at the moment, but he knew very clearly that he couldn't leave the warehouse until the shelf was filled.
His destination was nowhere in sight, however, the warehouse stretching out endlessly before him. An infinite number of identical racks and shelves stood in silent, imposing ranks on either side, watching him with disapproval. Wes felt a brief, queasy flash of panic. What if he couldn't find his shelf? What if he couldn't tell which one was his?
The warehouse was unnaturally quiet. Even his own feet made little sound, muffled by the enormity of the place, the sense of doomful fate that permeated the air, dogging his steps, peering down at him from the higher reaches.
Keep walking; one foot in front of the other, then again, then again. The air was dim and somehow hard to see through, as if the light were failing. On top of his crate was a half-full bag of figs, but he couldn't eat them yet. Hobbie wouldn't want him to. Hobbie said not to eat the figs ... Hobbie said...
"Hey, wake up." Wes jerked upright, staring around wide-eyed. Hobbie's hand dropped from his shoulder, an expression of grim amusement on his face. "No sleeping on the job, or we'll dock your pay."
Wes looked around, still disoriented. His hoverjack was pushed halfway through one of the warehouse doors, blocking it; he vaguely remembered leaning against the door-jamb, just to rest for a moment while Hobbie and Ooryl took the next load of crates over to be racked. Apparently he had fallen asleep on his feet, propped in the doorway.
"Ughf," Wes answered, rubbing his eyes and swiping a hand across his face. "Sorry." He started pushing his jack through the door and then hesitated, trying to remember if he had been coming in or going out. The jack was facing in, so he must be going in. But he didn't have a crate. So had he been backing out?
"Hey." Hobbie leaned down, peering into Wes's face and waving a hand in front of his nose. "Sure you're awake? Control to Janson, do you copy?"
Wes shook his head. Dregs of the dream lingered behind his eyes, making the real-life warehouse before him seem strange and unreal. "Nuh-uh. Are we done yet?" He finally decided that if he didn't have a crate, he must be headed out, and pulled his jack backwards out of the doorway.
"What do you think?" Hobbie gestured with one hand at the remaining crates in the corridor, dragging his own jack one-handed behind him through the door. "Does it look like we're done?"
"Ugh. 'Fraid not," Wes grunted, padding toward the next crate in line. He didn't see Hobbie pause for a second before following, shaking his head.
"I think you'd better take the next few trips with Ooryl. Keep moving so you'll stay awake," he suggested. Moving to the side, he waited for Wes to pull his box out of line and get it moving so he could do the same.
"Sure," Wes mumbled, heading past his wing and toward the door again. Behind him, he heard the now-familiar sounds of Hobbie's hoverjack slipping under a crate and lifting it off the floor. Hobbie's voice started following him down the hall.
"The faster you wake up, the sooner we'll be done, and you can get back to quarters and get some sleep. Trust me, you'll want to be awake tomorrow night. So we can tail Wedge around on his date with the Bothan he met last night at Ferinands."
"Hu-wuh ... wha -- what?" Wes spluttered, coming to a quick stop. "Wha-you ... he ... he what?" Spinning around to look at Hobbie in disbelief, Wes shook his head and blinked several times, forcing himself back to alertness. "Wedge has a date? With a Bothan? Wha'd I miss, when did this happen?"
"It didn't." Hobbie smirked. "I just made it up. I thought you'd wake up to hear that piece of news."
Wes glared at Hobbie for a long second, before muttering one of his more foul Taanabian curses and turning around to shove his load back into motion. He heard Hobbie chuckle lightly behind him. "Gotcha, Wes. Consider that payback for dragging me out of bed at 0311."
"Next time I'll make it 0230," Wes growled over his shoulder.
"Hmm." There was a brief pause. "That'll get you Tycho in a husbanding pact with a whole covey of Flerinbings."
Wes looked back, grinning in spite of himself. "Promise?"
Hobbie's face lit up with a rare, brilliant, wickedly enthused smile in return. "Absolutely."
Continued in Part 15...