Uprising: Acting on Nothing

362. That was who she was. The Supreme Commander of the KND. This was her base. She made it. She knew every nock and cranny there was. She knew where the operatives went to hang out. She knew where they went to make out. She knew where they would never go.

They would never go down to the Section 3. The small cramped quarters of the higher-ranking operative's. When it was built she never assigned which sleeping quarters where which. They formed on their own. The Science Squad took Section 2, the Combat Experts Section 6, the drifters Section 10. Somehow Section 3, even though they where smaller quarters, the leader ship of the Moon Base stayed there. She her self chose it because of how quiet and away from the main hussy and busily of the base. She thought that maybe she wasn't the only one who wanted to be away.

Numbur 62368, the Archive Chief, saluted her in half regard. He continued to look down at his ragged old notebook mumbling to himself. He paused, looking at her with heavy bags under his eyes.

"Sir, I have yet to get your report on this past week's events." He spoke scratching his 5 o'clock shadow.

"Yes. I'm terribly sorry I will get it to you at next shift change."

He continued with out another word, going to his office that 362 knew looked like a labyrinth of filing cabinets. Work driven persons are the ones that always put them self's in the situations. She decided to order a mandatory vacation for him for next week. She needed everyone in his or her top mental state. No matter what her own was.

Her quarter's where at the end of the long corridor. The room a crossed, she paused to look at it, was Numbur 86's. She wondered if the other woman was home. She knocked and waited for a voice to tell her to come in.

There was no answer so either 86 was gone or didn't feel like answering. She entered the combination on the door pad with the door opening in a whoosh. She steeped in before the door whooshed closed. So 86 was doing the third thing, sleeping.

362 eyed the small square table in the middle of the small room. Paper work scattered on top and below. A small foldable chair had a discarded over shirt with heavy black boots at its feet. She raised her eyes to the wall cubby, which held a raised bed with drawers underneath. There was the curly red head sleeping deeply with a sock less foot handing over the side. Empty beer cans lie neatly below the foot. A careless hand over the eyes to block the lamp that softly lit the room. Her other hand held onto a picture frame.

She knew whom that picture frame held. She had been in 86's room many times. Too many…She walked over to 86 avoiding the cans, to pull the picture frame away. She refused to see the brown hair woman in the picture. Placing it face down on the table. 86 stirred, her careless arm feel back down on to the bed.

"I met someone Rachel."

362 paused on her writing, looking up to acknowledge 86. The other woman seemed to be dancing left and right on the balls of her feet.

"That's nice." 362 whispered pulling her chair closer to her office desk. Continuing to write this week's report.

"Do I detect jealousy three-sixty-two?" 86 grinned deciding to purse the comment.

"Please don't let that red head of yours get any bigger. Just don't let her get in the way of your duties." 86 never said the person was a female. The word 'her' just came out naturally.

"She won't because she's an operative. Smart funny…strong…" 86 went into that lovey-dovey fantasy world.

"Well I better not hear you're misusing you rank…"

"Christ what's up with you asexuals…" she sat on the oak desk, "You always think the worst of fucking. Like getting laid is going to end the world." Her vulgar language was told threw out the lands.

"Well-"

"And another thing you acting like a real a virgin?"

"Eighty-six!" she cried in disbelief, "To talk to a commanding officer-"

"Christ lass I was talking to you like a friend. You're the one that's always so uptight!"

"You always smell of those damn cigarettes you smoke." 86 grumbled addressing 362.

"An' you always smell like alcohol." She knew she shouldn't say it. She herself was no saint on the abuse of alcohol. This 86 knew and no attempt to hide that fact other wise.

"Oh have come to convert me Sister Rachael for all my sins." 362 a little shocked when her name was spoken. She forgot this red fuzzy haired woman knew her true name. She didn't show it as she stood up to sit on the chair. 86 sat up starching, cracking her back as her gray tank top rise to her belly button. Her pant clad legs swung over the side. Purposely avoiding the cans. "Care to tell me what I gotten waken for?"

86 walked over to her small portable frig opening it up to notice it was bare. Sighing heavily she closed it to one again look at 362.

"I…" she must never show weakness. "I got a-" she stopped her self. Telling 86 something she must already have known. Maybe she never knew…maybe… "I was thinking." She put herself out for the next jest.

"That dangerous." Came the replied, as 86 lend against the table.


A/N: ...