The Entanglement

2

Something thumps against Cira's visor. Heat immediately floods her body. It feels like every hair in her body is pulled through her skin. It doesn't hurt, but it's bizarre. She blinks grit out of her eyes. All she sees is light. And that prompts a whole bunch of memories she would have gladly dismissed as a nightmare. Another tap. Something round blocks the light for a second. Something's actually tapping against her helmet. The light abruptly falls away and she can get a good look.

Two people stand upside down. Their suits are compact and bright. Definitely not military. One steps forward and gives her another poke with what looks like a rifle. Asshole.

She bats the rifle away and has the satisfaction of seeing him jump. He hits the ceiling (or floor) and the two aim at her. One gets the stance right. The other one has their elbows out like the only time they've seen a gun is in simulations. That worries her more than anything else.

"I don't know who you are," she croaks, "but you better point that somewhere else."

They don't move or respond. She resorts to hand signs. Open freq.

Even if she can't hear them, their body language says a lot. They lean towards one another. They look scared. Why they boarded a military station without monitoring military frequencies is beyond her. Commander Sarwana's stare abruptly comes back to her. She turns away as if that will block the memory out, but it doesn't. He's nowhere to be seen. Everything looks charred and neglected like a burnt out building. What little atmosphere remains is depleted of oxygen.

A loud buzzing sound saws into Cira's ears. "...Hear me?"

The voice is masculine. Tears suddenly sting her eyes. It feels like an age since she had contact with another human being. She sniffs louder than she likes. "I hear you."

"Holy shit," the poker says, another masculine voice. "Holy shit!"

"I hear that, too."

He goes silent as if he really didn't expect her to respond. She looks down at her boots and realizes they're neatly tucked against the ceiling. Burns spread out from underneath her feet in fractals. It looks like a lightning flower.

"Who are you?" The first speaker asks.

"Lieutenant Vega."

"I'm Gunther. This is Bracken. Gun and Brakes for short."

"Wait, wait, wait." Brakes jabs his rifle in her direction like it has a bayonet. "You served here? In this place?"

"No, I just thought I'd hang around for a while."

"Oh."

"Idiot. Of course I serve here." Cira carefully grasps one of the twisted ceiling panels and rights herself. "Those suits better have a purple rating."

"There's no radiation," Gun says tightly. "Not yet."

Cira replays the last few minutes over in her head. Had the haiks reading been an error? Gun trades his rifle for a device she doesn't recognize. He waves it in the air like he can't find reception. The screen's light flashes red then grey. Her skin tingles. A familiar prickling sensation spreads through her body. It's one of many things she can't deal with right now so she shoves it aside to scream about later.

Brakes lets out a low whistle. "You've got a higher thread count than my great great grandpappy's bedsheets."

"Thread?"

"That thing." He makes a vague gesture in her direction. "It's growing on you like grass."

Threads and grass are much nicer visuals than horsehair worms. If only he hadn't had said growing. Because that nearly pops the lid off everything she's feeling and if that happens, she's going to lose it. So she puts all those feelings back in the box, shelves them somewhere safe, and focuses on the problems at hand.