“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.
