The redhead shifted her pack as she slowly made her way down the high-ceilinged hall in awed silence. The hall's walls were hung with colorful tapestries, the stone floor worn from centuries of use. Shrubberies stood in beautifully sculpted clay pots, bathed by the soft afternoon sunlight that streamed in through evenly spaced windows. Her attention, however, was focused on the device in her hand.
The datapad looked simple enough -- not entirely unlike a larger version of the PDAs people flaunted to impress others with how busy they were -- but its computing capacity made her beloved laptop seem like an expensive black paperweight. Or so she'd been assured. Right now, it displayed a map of the palace, guiding her to what was to be her room, where she could hopefully sit down and figure out just what, exactly, she'd gotten herself into.
"Down the hall, third door on the left," she mumbled to herself, glancing up to compare her location with the display. There! The door was relatively plain, the wrought-iron latch offering a delightfully anachronistic contrast with the keycard reader affixed just above it. Pulling her ID from one of her bag's many pockets, she swiped it through the reader, not quite suppressing the excited tremble in her fingers. She was rewarded with a soft click.
The room was not a room, exactly. More like a small apartment. The bedroom was on the left, the bathroom on the right. Within reaching distance of the bed stood a bookshelf; a pleasant surprise. In the main living area, she found a desk with a power source handy. Home sweet home.
She never would have believed that official documents made for such interesting reading. Between background information (interesting), mission briefings (doubly interesting), her teammates' personal profiles (abridged, no doubt; she'd have to remedy that situation), a quick perusal of filed requisition forms (just because she could), and the exploration of her new technological bundle of joy, nearly four hours had passed. Her stomach painfully reminded her that she hadn't eaten since the night before, and if she didn't hurry, she'd likely not eat tonight. Grabbing her ID and datapad, she left in search of the kitchen -- but not before triple checking that her door was securely locked.
It only took fifteen minutes for Bethany's wonder toy to guide her to food. I'm getting better at castle navigation, she thought with a grin. That's nearly a third of the time it took to find my room.Supper, it seemed, was just winding down. A few stragglers were still trickling in from their day's work, and Bethany followed them to a large buffet table where -- wonder of wonders -- pasta lay steaming in great vats, just begging to be smothered in rich sauce. The man in front of her turned around, graciously offering her his plate.
"A proper Mendellian gentleman observes a lady's needs before his own," he said with a charming smile.
Bethany's returning smile turned into a snort of laughter as a tall, uniformed fellow ran by the dining hall's double doors, closely followed by two people who seemed to be 'wheeping' him mercilessly, judging from the sounds of their procession. She recognized one of the two pursuing figures as a fellow recruit, Sylvana Lorrdain. I think I'm going to like this place.
She couldn't sleep. She'd forced herself to power down her 'toys' at 3:30; fat lot of good it did her. For the better part of an hour she lay awake, trying to settle her mind, to no avail. There was just too much to absorb. With a sigh of surrender, she pulled on some old sweat pants and a kangaroo top. Might as well familiarize myself with the castle, since it looks like I'll be spending some time here.
She stopped in front of yet another fork in the passage. Left, right, I think I'm going in circles. I can't believe I forgot my datapad in my room.
"What was it that Grandpa used to say?" she asked the walls. "Oh, yeah: 'If you get lost, climb a tree. Even if you still can't tell which way to go, you'll have a splendid view... And if anyone gives you a funny look, invite them up for a cup of tea.' " She smiled. Grandpa was a great man.
The 'newbie' spotted a staircase at the end of the corridor to the right. Up it was.
One hundred fourteen steps later, she emerged onto the rooftop. And stopped in mid-stride, overwhelmed by the view. Grandpa was right... The castle was perched on a cliff. Below it the sea, stirred up by the fresh night breeze, lapped playfully at a lone fishing boat as the crew bustled about far more industriously than she would have thought possible at such an hour. Above, the moon shone far more brightly than it ever had at home, casting long shadows over everything. The stars, however, were nothing short of heart stopping. The familiar constellations sparkled as they always had; yet her perception of them had changed. Life beyond Earth was no longer a topic of debate over coffee; it was a certainty -- one that she hopefully would soon encounter. The intangible beauty of a clear night sky had become a portal into her wildest dreams. Her sigh was akin to that of a person who had accidentally found a backdoor into the supercomputer of life.
"Impressive, isn't it?"
Bethany spun around to face the newcomer. She had not even heard the coffee-skinned man approach: clearly she needed more practice at being an intelligence agent. The man was short-ish, fairly young, the breeze blowing his brown hair into piercing brown eyes, and he looked strangely familiar.
"I spy with my little eye a dictator who's out past his bedtime," she murmured thoughtfully to herself. Thayer Atner quirked an eyebrow, and Bethany mentally cursed the moon. In its unusually bright light, there was no way he could miss the blush creeping onto her cheeks.
"I do not believe we have been introduced," the dictator said, offering a disarming bow. "As you seem to know, I am Thayer Atner, Dictator of Mendellia. You would be...?"
"Bethany Brown. Field Agent Bethany Brown," she supplied, returning the bow, though more deeply. "I've only just been recruited by your organization."
The king-to-be's lips curled slightly at that. "It's hardly my organization, alas. Though Major Scifantasy's unit is allied with Mendellia, Terra Group operates independently."
His words had the sound of an oft-quoted speech, and Bethany appreciated the message implied by his tone. It would not do to confuse one's line of command. Controlling a unit like theirs, even an entirely peaceful nation could be seen as a threat by overly nervous or ambitious entities.
"So, uh, Sir," she began, not entirely sure how to address the Dictator, "what brings you out here at this hour of the morning?"
He spread his hands, palms upwards. "I could not sleep. I often come out here when my mind troubles me. The solitude, I find, is comfortingly free of distractions. Oh, and please," he added as an afterthought, "call me Thayer. All of the others do."
"Okay Si- Thayer," she broke off, not knowing what to say. "It must be difficult, being a dictator. Putting up with all of those activists who think they know what they're talking about..." She shook her head, at a loss for words. He smiled in reply.
"Though occasionally tedious, I have found the benefits to surpass the trials. At least I have been allowed to help Mendellia in her struggle to grow to her full potential."
"Then you're a better person than I. I don't have the patience for politics; I'd likely start a war with the first country that inconvenienced me. And don't bother telling me that's not a good idea socially, economically, or tactically," she said, holding out a hand to stop him as he opened his mouth. "Flippant idea or no, I can't help but think it'd be almost worth it just to make some of those annoying, self-righteous world leaders shut up."
For the second time that night, she received an eyebrow quirk in response. "Do you take war so lightly?"
Ah, yes. His country knows conflict far too intimately. "Not really, and I'm sorry if I've offended you in any way. I know that war is a terrible thing, though it can be necessary to bring about change. I'm simply very seldom serious about anything."
Thayer nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer, and they lapsed into a friendly silence. Before long Bethany found herself yawning. The sky was beginning to brighten; she'd best take her leave if she wanted her brain to function later on. Turning to go, she bid good morning to the man standing next to her.
"Until we meet again, Field Agent Brown." He seemed to hesitate a moment before adding, "if you should chance to see Becki -- Lieutenant Bush -- would you tell her I've been looking for her?"
"I'll keep that in mind. And please, call me Bethany. Everyone else does."
She had already turned her back to him, so she did not see the troubled frown that creased his face as he contemplated the horizon.
Back in her room, Bethany lay in her bed, but still something wasn't right. Going to her bag, she rummaged around until she found a cardboard tube. Opening it, she pulled out a poster which she stuck on her wall with Sticky Tack. Now she was home. Settling down again, she finally fell asleep. On her wall, Wedge Antilles grinned for all the world to see.