In All the Other Worlds

A Promise is Made.

***

"Where do you wanna start, princess? I don't want to stare at the monitors all day." Santi's voice rises amongst my thoughts as my eyes read the wall of monitors, each covering a different section of weapons. Both personal and for the ship. 

"How about guns and their inventory? I think they have some swords out, so not those."

Across from the weapons hub are subrooms where different types of weapons are stored. The closer to the ship you walk, the more the weapons become for larger use instead of singular. 

"You think they'll find us? The others?" 

Santi is surrounded by various kinds of ammo, some for pistols and the others for the military-grade weapons that are best left to the older kids. We try to keep the little ones as little as possible, they get swords if we can help it. Guns are an absolute last resort for them.

"I think if they can snuff out the other farms, then ours can't be any harder to find, Santi," I toss more ammo his way and climb the shelves with familiar grace, "I think it's a matter of time. But I also think we're more prepared, and hopefully, those doors open when we need them to, and we can get out of here." 

His eyes meet mine, and I see the ice begging to be released to show his feelings and fears; his internal battle with ice is mine with fire. I've always beaten him at self-control. I don't foresee that changing with the weight of worlds on our shoulders now. 

"I bet you there's a way we can find out; also, how many guns do you have so far?" 

"Forty. What's your idea?" 

"Well, I mean, we act like we can't do things a little better than the Adults. Sure, they're chosen or whatever, but aren't we too?" 

"I guess, but what does that have to do with anything?" 

"Spying, obviously."

"No. Ask Cassian. Also, please catch me; I don't want those bullets taking my ankles out," My fall from the top shelf takes a half second, and the familiar feeling of his hands on my waist takes no less time, "Thanks." 

"Of course. Yeah, he'll do it with me, but I want you to come." 

"I don't--" 

"Hey, kids, how's the weapons check going? I want you guys working with the littles in an hour or so."

"We're all set for ammo and personal weapons, Sir. Can we load them on the ship now, or do you want us to wait?" 

"Wait for them, Santi. I want them to see where they go," Mr. Resha paces back and forth, "Actually, I'll call them down now. I want to have this done as quickly as possible." 

We follow him towards the monitors and intercoms, and I pick up on a risen heartbeat that rarely characterizes itself with Mr. Resha. Despite his position, he is meager, kind, and the most unsuspecting weapons head I've ever met. 

"Your heart is fast, Mr. Resha. Either you've had too much coffee, or there's an issue." My observation hints at pride; at least he knows we can still beat the others on senses alone. 

"An issue. Sit down, you two." 

The central screen shows a similar CCTV to last night, except now the background is fixed points on maps rather than singular feeds. Santi's heartbeat rises, the ice floods his eyes and hands, and the chilling realization sets in. My fire begs for me to let it free.