Gears (NaNoWriMo 2017) (#1 Below the Machines)

Chapter 6

Major Hart kept his strides even and long as he passed corridor and corridor. He kept to himself, hiding the secrets and panic that harboured him even when he wasn't watched. It was scary how well he fit in now. Everything seemed to almost be done on autopilot, a second nature that was so easy to reach out to, he had started to fear that he really was one of them now. But he knew that even one slip-up, one mistake, could jeopardise his entire being.

But he pushed it all down, as far as it could go. He had even more worrying circumstances to attend to as he paused in front of the Lieutenant - General's office, taking in a breath to ready himself before knocking.

Three gentle raps on the door, stiff and ordered.

"Come in!" Came the muffled voice behind the door.

Major Hart checked his posture, making sure his spine was straight as he entered, pushing open the light wooden door.

As usual, he was greeted with the earthy tones of the room, calming his mind and clearing of the thoughts he wasn't supposed to think about. The desk and the walls were the same shade of mahogany, and the floor was boarded with a jarrah-red wood, and the single table was decorated with touches of green and olive lamps and pens— like small random accessories standing out against a mop of brown hair. The whole room was immaculate, making the area seem larger than it was, and the only things adorning the walls were paintings and photos of old army generals. Three comfortable-looking padded chairs were arranged in a circle around a single glass coffee table.

At his desk was the Lieutenant-General, his hands clasped infant of him, his chin leaning on the platform they made, elbows on the flat surface. But there was also another arrival, sitting on one of the plush chairs, legs crossed and lounging back lazily. Brigadier-General Hughes, a member of the senior staffs. Of course, he was the only one who acted this disrespectfully around the Lieutenant-General.

"Oh look, here's the pet dog of the military. Most prized possession of the family — the famed little perfect soldier." He drawled, obviously resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Hart gritted his teeth and chose to be oblivious to the jab, lifting his hand to his forehead in a salute. "Sir, I have been relayed a vital message. Permission to speak."

Lieutenant - General Flores lifted his head warily, just coming off his hands. "Permission accepted. What does this information concern?"

"The enemy has penetrated first defences, sir." He informed his senior, aware of Hughes' eyes drilling a whole into his head.

Flores nodded, "very well, I will continue to pass this onto the General, or even if it is possible, take these matters into my own hands. Which reminds me, your appearance is of most convenience."

"What do you require of me, sir?"

Flores paused, and took his attention off me and refocused on Hughes. "You are dismissed." He said, with a clear order lying behind it.

"Yessir. Right away sir." The mocking sarcasm in his voice was enough to make the Lieutenant-General give him a long, hard look of distaste. Slowly, Hughes rose, being unbearably painstaking to annoy the two other men in the room. Hart felt his patience ticking away. And all along, Hughes kept that same infuriating smirk on his face — as if he knew something that the Major didn't and took great pleasure in it. Even as he left the room, Hart still couldn't shake off the tension the Brigadier - General had left behind — tangible in the room like a virus, or as if the room's air had just been contaminated by something unpleasant.

A few seconds after the door fell back shut with a click, Flores met Hart's gaze with his unyielding eyes. But he was so used to that look it barely had any effect on him anymore, all it did was tell him that the Lieutenant - General was going to tell or spill bad news of some sort — or perhaps that he was just plainly dissatisfied with something. "Now, Major Hart."