The Sixth Night

Difficulties

Markus watched from a distance as Mathieu carefully closed his hand around the coffee cup. He glanced around the almost empty mess hall and threw the towel away, deciding to walk over to the civilian pilot for a chat.

"Is it okey now?" the German officer asked as he sat down opposite the captain. "The hand," he clarified.

Mathieu grimaced. "The infection is gone anyway," he answered. "It pulls a little when I grab something but Laura assures me the skin has healed enough not to break."

Markus nodded at the wound. "You know, I've only heard bits and pieces of your journey but I am impressed that you managed to continue flying in your condition."

"What choice did I have?" he questioned. "Being chased by death has a certain way to keep you at your toes, you know."

The soldier swallowed, not sure what he would have done if it had been him in that hot seat.

"Anyway, I had a lot of help. Sylvie was an invaluable co-pilot."

"Still, Sylvie is not a pilot," Markus argued.

Mathieu arched an eyebrow at the comment.

"No, no. I meant that she wasn't a-," he paused, looking for the right word. "She's a helicopter pilot, right?"

"She landed the aircraft all by herself when I was – indisposed. Without her, we wouldn't be here today."

"I think you're being a little too modest," Markus replied. "Where did you train to become a pilot?"

Mathieu breathed a sigh of relief that Markus changed subject. "The French Airforce."

Markus straightened, somewhat surprised at hearing the answer. "Then, you are a soldier too," he deduced.

"It was a long time ago. Perhaps I'll tell you about it someday," Mathieu replied softly. "Now, I think I am late for 'work'. Apparently my first assignment here is to try and reestablish contact with a cosmonaut."

OOOOOO

Sylvie finished her story about their various trouble on their journey and Thea leaned back in her chair in awe.

"I am not sure I would have survived that. What you are describing is a week of hell," the ambassador pointed out bluntly.

"I suppose that when you look back upon it-," Sylvie reasoned, "-it sounds kind of impossible to pull off."

Thea shook her head as Sylvie finished marking out their travels on the map. Brussels, Iceland, Kinloss, Alberta. The ambassador stared at all the connected dots before her. Brussels again, looking for fuel in Antwerp before ending up on this dingy place in Bulgaria. "No wonder you were all exhausted," she said, then added. "I do apologize for the soldiers. We're all having trouble coping with this on so many levels."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Sylvie stated, although she seriously doubted anyone could understand how she was feeling right now. The depressed helicopter pilot who'd boarded a plane to embark on a journey to kill herself was now amongst the few survivors on the planet.

"Thank you for giving me some background info," Thea said. "It's good to hear the real story and not something based on rumors from the soldiers."

"You wanted to go to Norway?" Sylvie stated. "I do agree with Mathieu on that matter but I can have the numbers readied for you so that we can plan the flight quickly if need should arise."

"Yes, of course. You're a pilot too. But right now, there is something else I want you to do," the ambassador replied.

Sylvie frowned.

"Some of your people are a bit too frank. It causes unnecessary tension between the groups," Thea cautioned. "You need to talk to them. Get them to understand that we're all in this together. No one wants any trouble."

Sylvie leaned forward, her voice low and cold all of a sudden. "I am not so sure it is my people whose causing the friction here," she said.

The ambassador was slightly taken aback by the straightforward answer but as the diplomat she was, she merely batted an eye. "Talk to them," she repeated in an even voice. "I am sure they listen to you."

There was a knock on the doorframe. "Something wrong?" Mathieu asked carefully, sensing the tension in the air.

"We're fine," Sylvie replied curtly as she nodded at the ambassador and got out of the chair.

Mathieu didn't believe a word but he didn't push any of them for information. He would seek out Sylvie later, away from the ambassador where they could talk in private.

"Anything?" Thea asked.

Mathieu shook his head. "No. Something must have happened up there. The cosmonaut is gone. Horst and I discussed it briefly before I came here. It is possible that he was hit by the solar energy – the radiation. It all depends on his orbit around the planet."

Thea leaned back and sighed in frustration. "His perspective was unique from up there," she mumbled wearily as she reached up to massage her aching head.

"Yeah, well, unfortunately, there's nothing more we can do at the moment. We have tried everything from this end except using the aircraft as an intermediary," Mathieu informed her.

"I am sorry," the ambassador suddenly blurted as she focused on the pilot before her.

Mathieu frowned. "For what?" he asked.

"For sounding so ungrateful for your efforts," she replied. "I know everyone is doing their best. It's just that sometimes-,"

"-sometimes it gets to you, huh?" he guessed kindly.

She stared at him.

"Good, that makes you human," he added softly. "Look, it's starting to get late – or early, depending on how you look at it – so, I'll grab something in the mess hall and turn in."

"Mathieu," she called after him.

He turned around.

"Thank you," she whispered.

OOOOOO

"That went well," Markus said with a dry grin directed at Ines as he threw the towel onto the bench.

Ines chimed in with a laugh of her own as she began to dry off the last plate. They were alone in the mess hall at this hour, the sun was about to come up and most of the soldiers and civilians had already headed to bed.

"I think you're pretty skilled for a woman claiming she has never used a saucepot before," Markus teased.

She threw the towel at him.

He broke into a grin and hung it up to dry. "I am glad you came along," the young soldier said. "I didn't realize how boring it was around here before."

"Feels like I am on some freaking, never-ending camp," she let on.

"What?" he feigned hurt. "Don't you like it here?"

"What's there to like, gold lock," she teased.

He took a step towards her and she felt her stomach fluttering. Unfortunately, the moment didn't last long as Felipe and Heremans stepped through the door.

"Hey," the latter of the two protested. "You can't have her to yourself. I want a piece of her too."

Markus, afraid the situation would get out of hand, positioned himself protectively in between Heremans and Ines.

Ines felt disgusted at the mere thought of the other soldiers touching her and took a step back.

"What's wrong with you?" Markus asked coldly. "Why are you here anyway?"

"Came looking for you actually," Felipe said with a shrug as he reached for an apple on the counter. "The colonel wants to see you."

Ines shivered. "Don't leave me here alone," she whispered.

"Not so cocky now, are we?" Heremans drawled as he took another step toward her.

"Any problems in here?" Colonel Lom's sharp voice boomed from behind.

Heremans immediately took a step back. "No, sir," he replied curtly.

"Good," the polish commander stated. "Then why don't you and Felipe get out of here?"

"Right away, sir," the Spanish soldier acknowledged.

"Thank you," Ines managed.

Lom made a gesture towards the door. "I suggest that you leave as well. I want a word with Captain Muller alone."

Ines swallowed, her mouth dry, as she began to walk toward the door.

"Sir?" Markus asked in confusion.

"Let's take a walk," Lom suggested.

OOOOOO

To be continued

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