Time Off, Part One

Within UNTIL, Major Clay was famous for many things, but his handlebar mustache made him legend. Precise and pencil thin, it struck out from his face to rise in majestic curls just under his cold grey eyes. Between his mustache and his oval face and round cheeks, his was a viage perfect for a straw hat and a barbershop quartet. As long as one didn’t look at his eyes. More than one junior officer had confessed to Sergeant Katrina Mirinova at being perplexed by the mix of the comical and the severe, unable to figure out where to focus their gaze.


Focus on the eyes, Katrina advised. Always. Today, in a surprise visit to Millenium City, those eyes held a gaze was so calm that Corporal Andrebs almost seemed comfortable. Andres turned his nervous tension into a crisp attention to detail. Katrina liked that in him.

The meeting had been arranged in a small, discreet office far off from the hustle and gossip of the main wing of Millennium City UNTIL Headquarters. As commander of the Office of Superhuman Relations, Major Clay could get any room he wanted, yet he chose this tiny cubby.  He usually liked his meetings big and bold, with holographic projections and, whether in-person or projected from New York, he room enough to pace and gesticulate and twirl that damn mustache of his. So the room was peculiar, Katrina decided, as was his decision to sit behind the desk, hands clasped in front and indicate for them to sit.

“Sergeant, I want you to take a few days off. Corporal Andres, I want you to reassign your work and handle Sergeant Mirinova’s caseload while she’s gone.”

To his credit, Corporal Andres tried to look surprised, but the expression of shock never reached his eyes. Andres, Clay? Who else?  Two is a secret. Three is conspiracy. She felt the irritation of being out of the loop.

“Yes Sir. May I ask why?”

“One, because it's an order, Sergeant --”

“Sir, yes sir.”

“I said at ease, Sergeant.  Jesus” Major Claw twirled his mustache, preening as if in thought. A distraction. He resumed, his voice more subdued. “You’ve been going nonstop since that deal with the Destroyer and Warlord.  Coming up on a year now.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it.” Katrinia lied.

“Corporal Andres, you’re going to have a lot of work for a bit. Go get your work reassigned. I’ll finish up with Mirinova, here.”

Andres snapped off a quick salute before he left. Major Clay twirled his mustache for a moment. For a moment, Katrina wondered if he was trying to intimidate her before she realized that if he could have tugged on that mustache and pulled the right words from his mouth, he would have. Instead, he camped his heels on the  desk. 

“Sergeant, you’ve got enough VTOL credits to fly anywhere in the world courtesy of UNTIL. Take a trip, get some relaxation in.”

“Sir, my psych review evaluated me fit for duty.”

“Of course you’re fit for duty. You’re always fit for duty. But this isn’t about fitness.  This is about taking time to appreciate why we go through all this. Go civilian for a few days. Don’t come back any earlier than Monday.”

“A week, Sir?” Katrina tried to hide the chagrin in her tone. Major Clay hated being questioned. “VIPER has Dr. Destroyer’s Zeta ray, Valravn is hiding out in Ravenswood, and Demon has--”

“A week, Mirinova. At least. No more than two, like I have to give you a cap. And it is an order. Do whatever you want to do out of uniform. Hell, sneak around and do all that stuff you think Base Commander Kermal doesn’t know about -- but”

“Sir, in all fairness, I’d prefer not to bother him with little things.”

The mustache twitched once. Only once. “--but, Sergeant, stay out of OSR business. Corporal Andres will run your calendar. Dismissed. You are ordered to have fun.”

Sergeant Mirinova stood and saluted, trying not to consider how she was going to feel that time. At the door, when Major Clay spoke again, She was surprised that his tone was as close to gentle as she’d ever heard it.

“Sergeant, some anniversaries can be a real bitch, and I know you planned on working right through it, but some things don’t deserve to be boxed up. They have ways of getting out.”

***

Corporal Andres took hasty notes on his tablet as Katrina marched the deserted hallway.

“The fey prefer nectar, orange blossom if you can find it. You should be able to get some from Caprice if we run low. Don’t hesitate to call the MCPD if those daft Norsement at Sherra’s get rowdy. They may be loud and stupid, but they understand getting their liquor license pulled. Call Agent Cutter if PRIMUS stonewalls you, but don’t ask him about Montana, he’ll brief me when I get back. But If he calls--

Corporal Andres managed to cut in, “Sergeant, have orders not to-”

“He won’t call unless it’s important, and if you don’t tell him you’re relaying the message, he’ll just call me directly. I’m not asking for treason, I’m asking for a head’s up.”

Andres’ jaw set as he gave into a nod.

The hallway gave way to double locked doors, pressure sensors and weapon turrets. Empty holding cells brooded in shadow. A thick, round door that banks envied, held the only occupant. A pair of techs clustered around energy readouts, reviewing and relaying back to HUGIN. The monitors bathed the room in blue.

The techs’ pale faces made Katrina wonder if they were ever required to take time off.  Her hand left a pale outline on the palm plate. Metal bars slid with a deep clank. The door groaned open on slow, grinding motors.

“You should leave the door open,” she said to the techs.

A pudgy face regarded her with dismay. “What good would that do? We wouldn’t have containment.”

Katrina shrugged. “It might not get destroyed if she wakes up. She was in a prison for thousands of years It seems we’d all be a little better off if she awoke to freedom.”  

The smell of dust tickled her nose as she stepped through the portal. Inside, the basalt -- over four meters around at the base and almost five meters from base to top. She placed her hand on the rough surface. Andres reached for his blaster. Katrina shook her head.

“I’m going away for a few days. If you need anything, find Valravn. I hope she’s still in a condition to help. I’ll be back in a wee-- seven days.” Her voice was swallowed by the stone. She stepped back through the doorway; her gaze never left it until the door closed.

“Jesus, that thing gives me the creeps,” Andres said.

“Trust your instincts on that.”

“Shouldn’t it be in Stronghold? Under hot sleep?”

“Being creepy isn’t a crime, Corporal.”

“Yes ma’am, and Sergeant, if I may say…”

“You’re going to anyway--”

“Neither is taking a little time off.”

“I was going to go to Shatili over Christmas.”

“Begging the Sarge’s pardon, but you said that last year.”

“Tell me something Corporal -- did you recommend my time off? ”

She watched Andres shift uncomfortably. “Major Clay’s office asked what I thought, and I told them what I always tell you -- that Grond will always be there and life is too short not to enjoy yourself once in a while.”

“Time,” Katrina said, “is something I have plenty of.”

***

Doctor Black had said time’s velocity would change, and years would slip by until they were nothing more than a moment, because naturally, she would adjust her perceptions to accommodate an appreciable chunk of eternity -- not forever, but a much longer span than humanity was built for. The mind can only hold so much, Dr Black was fond of pointing out, and as such, she really had two options: One was to make room for new memories by forgetting old unused memories to make room for more experiences. Little things at first, then eventually she’d forget her father’s face, or even that she had a father. Photos and journals could help, but eventually they will become tales of another woman.

The other was to stop remembering new things, so that her frame of reference froze and new things ceased to have meaning. She would be a walking anachronism, removed from the world. Valravn, older than even her own expected lifespan, had lost thousands of years of imprisonment with demons. Katrina couldn’t help but think of it as a blessing.

She did tease a third option from Dr. Black, one where the separation of past and present merged. 

“That would be madness, of course,” Dr. Black had said, “But one that you need not choose.”
Katrina had laughed then and said, “I’m Russian! I choose all three.”


Dr. Black grin seemed a little sad. It occurred to Katrina that at least in two of the three scenarios the memory, and the idea that moment, would be gone.