“West Bellforest: southerly winds today, wind velocity 3, transparence light particle 36, later 56.”
Holland blinked at shadows and swatches of sunlight alike as they flowed over his ceiling in their tantalizing way. He gnawed on a toothpick that hung from his mouth subconsciously as the announcer droned on in his monotone voice.
The man pulled himself up into a sitting position, rubbing a calloused hand over his stubbly cheeks as he glanced at the source of the droning voice. Somewhere in the ship, there was a swift change in sound level as an argument began and ended all at once. Holland swung his legs over his bed and got to his feet reluctantly.
“North Bellforest: south-easterly winds, wind velocity 1, transparence light particle 11, later 20.”
He crossed the small expanse between his bed and radio, reaching a hand to flick a switch. The announcer’s voice petered out and died, but Holland payed that no attention. His icy blue eyes stared at the unforgiving black box with a hint of some emotion unfamiliar to his weathered features.
“Going to be a great day for lifting down in Bellforest.” He said to himself, noticing all-too-well how alien and tired his own voice sounded as it reverberated through his eardrums. Slowly, he shut the door in which the radio and stereo hid behind.
Placing his head on that unforgiving cold glass, he let out a sigh that left a cloud of frustration on its translucent surface.
Their last encounter with the military had been far from pleasant, the prematurely gray-haired man thought ruefully. They were still preparing for whatever Renton and Eureka had to do to get past the Great Wall. Norbu had been sending them to tasks all over the world.
Every new task seemed to be getting more and more pointless as time wore on. Sometimes Holland even found himself wondering if Norbu was just playing with them now; it sure seemed like it to him.
Now all they had to do was fly half-way around the world to get to Bellforest, where Axel had rebuilt his repair shop once more.
A trip that would’ve taken Talho hardly a few hours to make this journey. Had they not had to stay on the low down to keep from the patrols that were searching so avidly for them. So, instead of the trip to Bellforest taking a few hours, it would take about . . .24.
It’d been a long while since the 15 hours mark, too. Nevertheless, the only way Holland knew even this was the fact that some brain had thought to place an automated countdown on the intercom that would sound out every time an hour passed. Speaking of which, Holland checked the time on the radio’s clock. It should be coming on about. . .
Now.
“Four hours until Bellforest is on the horizon.”
A computer-generated voice crackled over the intercoms of The Gekko Go. Its leader glanced up at the ceiling where the voice had originated from; his face still pressed against the glass. /Four hours. Not long now./
Holland sighed once more, looking more like the teenager her still felt like than the fearless leader her was supposed to be. What’d happened to that wonderful rumor that the Gekko Go had been this great, laid-back place where you just reffed with your friends? Holland made a note to irritate Talho or Hal with that whenever he got the time.
Something whistled past the window, loud enough to make the man glance up and his eyes widen considerably as his trained mind put picture and sound together.
Colored shots raced towards them, looking more like multi-colored fireworks than deadly missiles.
That’s when the Talho decided to crank out one of her specialized evasion techniques. More than just Holland was sent flying when she brought that little number into action.
“Yikes. . .” Renton said as he ran a hand down Nirvash’s undamaged flank, feeling the LFO shudder a little bit as if in agreement to his comment. His blue eyes scanned and cataloged the damage expertly, calculating an appraisal of the extent of the injuries. “Beaten up ‘badly’ was an understatement.” He noted aloud, more to himself than the figure beside him.
The tall, prematurely gray-haired and pale blue-eyed man next to him nodded an affirmative. “I agree. There’s no way we- or even Jobs or Woz- can fix the damage with the few resources we have onboard.” Holland replied, stroking his chin in a manner of which made it impossible for Renton not to hear the scratch of stubble against skin. He peered at his sometimes-idol from the corner of his eye, noting the not-quite-5-o’clock-shadow and dark lines that circled Holland’s tired eyes. Stress lined the corners of the leader’s mouth and Renton felt as if he were looking at a much older man instead of the hardheaded refboarder who had been the inspiration for most of his short life.
Maybe it was the fact that Talho had only recently told him that she was carrying his child or just the stress of being the Leader, whatever it was, Renton was at least certain that there was something troubling Holland. Renton blinked as he realized. It wasn’t only Holland, something seemed to be troubling most everyone on the ship. Unease hung about the air and many a usually calm person had lost their temper over the simplest things. But Renton’d just figured that was due to being cooped up on the Gekko for three days straight without hope of reprieve until they reached Bellforest. That had to be it, after all, what else could it be?
“There’s only one person who we can go to now…” Holland more or less finished with a raised tone, allowing the boy to realize that Holland had been talking the whole time he had been thinking to himself. Renton found himself giving an inward sigh of relief, with Holland drawn as tight as he was, the adolescent was glad that he had already known the answer to that not-exactly-rhetorical question when he’d first started evaluating the Nirvash’s injuries. Else, he probably would’ve faced a long, painfully boring day of mopping the Gekko spotless. And when Holland said spotless, he meant it. The dictator in question turned a icy-blue and impatient gaze to the youngster by his side.
“The only person we can go to is Axel Thurston.” Renton said quickly, trying to cling to the one moment of actually somewhat normalness that he had to spend with his sometimes-idol. Excluding the fact that Holland was dressed in nothing but his bright orange boxers, of course, but that was as normal as it got with this leader. Renton watched Holland nod, somehow still retaining his seemingly unyielding dignity while not even half-clothed. However, how he did that, Renton could not figure out, because whenever Eureka walked in on Renton in his boxers—well, let’s just say that dignity, smoothness, and calm went completely out the window.
“Go and let Talho know that she needs to get Moondoggie on controls—it’s his turn to fly this bird down to Thurston’s, I believe.” Holland remarked simply, turning his tan back on Renton as he went to examine the rest of the Nirvash in case they may have missed anything else. The boy found himself sighing again quietly to himself- although this sigh was not one of relief. After all, it was one thing to deal with a stressed Holland, but dealing with a pregnant- and already frightening and unpredictable- woman was a completely different matter altogether.
“This is the worst.” The adolescent grumbled as he walked towards the hallway, sealing his misery in one simple phrase. The clouds ambled by the window that stood adjacent to Renton’s current position and the boy paused to admire the nonchalance they exhibited as the large aircraft glided through them. Of course, they were clouds and therefore inanimate, but to Renton they were freedom and happiness – two things he hadn’t precisely had recently.
“Oh, and Renton.”
The boy glanced over his shoulder, his perpetually messy shock of brown hair getting in the way of his peripheral vision as he did so. He heard Holland pause for a moment in revelry and Renton took advantage of that moment to dash his stubborn hair from his eyes. He would really have to cut his hair sometime; it was getting in the way more and more often it seemed. The boy looked as attentive as he could manage while attempting to achieve some sort of order amongst his tangled brown locks.
The man didn’t look at the boy, nor did he face him, but still Renton could detect a hint of amusement playing across his words as he addressed the boy. “Don’t forget to make The Gekko spotless when you’re done with your errand.”
Renton slumped and nodded, the picture of dejection, before he turned back to the clouds. He glared daggers at them as he heard Holland’s footsteps recede and finally disappear altogether. Even though the boy’s life inside the ship had just gotten a bit more miserable, the clouds still moseyed on past the window, light as cotton candy and with the same consistency- just as blissful as can be. The adolescent scowled harder still as he turned to trudge his way up to the bridge. If his aura had been visible, it would’ve been as black as pitch. Seeing his annoyance, the clouds mocked him with every slow, grumpy step he took.
“I take it back- this is the worst.” Renton moved slowly down the hallway, looking like a death-row inmate on the way to the gallows. Of course, death-row inmates didn’t have a pregnant and extremely hormonal executioner to deal with. Nor did they have to mop an entire vessel. /Yeah, death-row inmates have it made…/ Renton thought to himself, his lip protruding immaturely.
The worst is yet to come, silly. The clouds taunted in their wisping voices that sounded a little too close to the bullies’ at his old school for his comfort. Renton raised an eyebrow, pausing as he blinked at the translucent and beveled glass that bent and stretched the haze out of proportion. His own reflection stared back at him, as blank as ever. Renton scowled and his counterpart copied him, following him movement by movement as he made faces at the surface.
Renton leaned forward, touching his nose to his mirrored image’s. Blue eyes stared at him, frustrated and miserable. His reflection blinked, then stepped back and the more solid Renton shook his head, as if that would dispel the thoughts from his mind.
“You’re losing it Renton, what would ojii-san say if he saw you like this?” The boy asked himself, already hearing the old man’s voice even before he finished the barely audible sentence he’d composed. He knew exactly what the old dinosaur would say. ‘Renton, what would I tell your dead mother if she were here?’ or ‘How can you possibly expect to become a good mechanic if you keep your head in the clouds?!’ Renton grimaced, refusing to dwell on his grandfather or the shop . . . or how much he missed them despite some of the harsh words the old man had spoken. No, he was a man, and men didn’t miss anything. The very naive boy told himself, puffing out his chest a little as if that would make him seem manlier.
It failed, considerably. Nevertheless, the incident motivated him, and he sauntered down the hall towards the bridge with his chest stuck out in a way he hoped would make him seem taller and broader. Real men carried their missions through, fear or no fear, and if Renton wasn’t a man, how could he protect Eureka? He had to be a man, for her. Or so he convinced himself before he walked onto the bridge and entered at the receiving end of the harshest berating he'd ever experienced in his short life.
Anyone who said pregnant women weren’t the most frightening things in the world had obviously never experienced one during a full-out hormone attack.
