Command Me To Be Well [Completed]

11 - One of his duties

Master Auberon summons Timur to the control room. He also orders the medical team to stay alert, in case anything happens. By the time everything is ready, somehow everyone knows what we are about to do. By everyone, I mean the whole fucking army.

We are up there, in the control room. And everyone else is under us, in the hangar, where the jets are stationed. We can see them through the glass wall, and they can see us, as well.

Suddenly all the planes seem to be in need of urgent maintenance. That may be the only reason for all the soldiers being out there, casting curious glances upwards. Some of them are pretending to repair their engines. Some of them are polishing the wings. Some of them, the less creative ones, are simply standing around, talking to each other.

"They are curious," Timur informs us. "They've never seen you in action, Madame."

I feel like being to a circus. On the wrong side of the ring. With me being the main attraction.

We prepare for the mapping, as usual, with Master Auberon sitting by my side, very close to me. He's ready to take action on the slightest hint of me getting too far out.

He seems to have a sixth sense for it. He simply feels when he must intervene. It's strange, because other than that, he's anything but sensitive. That would be very strange for a last bastion of hope, I guess, but still. The way he sits by me, with a mildly indignant expression on his face, makes it quite evident that he simply considers it one of his duties. Annihilate the enemy. Anchor the Seer. Bury the dead. Not very entertaining, but someone has to do it.

But if I ever would have doubts about his lack of sensitivity, the glance he casts down, to the hangar, would certainly dissolve them in a second. Poor pilots do not only forget to continue grinning suggestively, seeing us sitting up here, with our bodies touching, but practically freeze on the spot. One single disapproving glance is enough to scare them shitless. Some of them don't simply shut up, but also turn away, as if they wouldn't be able to bear the weight of his gaze.

It must be those inhuman eyes of his.

But, when he puts his arms casually around my waist too, just to find a good angle to keep me in place, even his eyes can't render the pilots silent anymore. The sight is simply too much for them to believe. They have the possibility to witness the savior of humanity behaving like a member of said humanity. It's something unheard of. The suggestive smiles are soon joined by encouraging cheers too.

"We appreciate the attention," announces Timur, grabbing the microphone, "but I bet you have better things to do. If you don't, I'll find you one."

The pilots disperse in two minutes. There wasn't much to see, anyway. What I do, is nothing spectacular. I close my eyes, and I let my mind expand.

I open the doors of perception. And this time, I don't have to hold my team of wild horses back. My thoughts are allowed to run free. To the perimeter of my inner map. And even farther away.

It's such a relief. Finally, I'm allowed to lose control for a few minutes, without having to pay a price for it. In scanner mode, I don't need to register all the little dots I find. They are just signs of life for me, not targets. I find them and I let go of them. It's easy.

There are humans amongst them, too. Scattered on the map, but never alone. They are gathered together in their underground shelters. However well camouflaged these hideouts are, I find lots of them. The little dots are crowded in there. And they all feel the same. They are desperate. Most of them have already lost hope. They are prepared to die.

I don't have time for them. I recognize their emotions, but I refuse to sympathize with them. I'm needed elsewhere. And, by the way, there's a huge difference between us.