PART II: First FriendCSS LEGEND, TURBO-POD HUB (THAT NIGHT)
Many rge cruisers like the Legend are built with a network of tubes for Turbo-Pods. They’re small vehicles powered by maglev repulsors that can shoot up to six people across the ship in seconds.
Rokov was waiting for one to open up so he could return to his barracks for the night. Then, he spots Avon sitting by herself on another bench. This was quite a stroke of luck; he’d been waiting all day for a chance to apologize to her.
“Hello, Vice General.” Avon looks up from her phone bnkly. “This seat taken?”
She wordlessly shakes her head, so Rokov sits next to her. It’s a small bench, and Rokov is a big man, so they were a little too close. But Avon doesn’t mind; at least he’s clean this time.
After a moment of thought, Rokov lets out a heavy sigh to get Avon’s attention. Curious, she looks at him out of the corner of her eye.
“I’m sorry about what happened today. That marine was right, it wasn’t my business. I should’ve stayed out of it,” he says.
“I just… get so upset from jerks like that! Whenever a bully has their way, it makes me sick!”
“I mean, I’m from Rakonberg, I’ve probably had it ten times worse than those guys! But I never took it out on others!”
“Making people miserable won’t make me feel better by comparison. And in the end, all I achieved was making my legs sore.”
Rokov rubs a cramp in his calf, slightly winded after his rant. He may be an extrovert, but it isn’t typical of him to bare his soul to someone he just met. Still, Avon listened intently to every word.
“Do not bme yourself,” she replies reassuringly. “The General was right. I’m also at fault, Commander. I knew my presence would be an issue.”
“I’ll never understand why he thinks so highly of rank-and-file soldiers. To me, they’re just mindless, expendable units.”
“All I require is their ability to obey and fight, and if they refuse to grant me the former, I should be allowed to dispose of them.”
Rokov waits for a “no offense,” but Avon doesn’t seem to realize she inadvertently included him in her criticism.
“Talk about harsh…” he mumbles.
“What was that?”
“I said, have you ever tried talking to us grunts outside of work?” Rokov tactfully changes the subject.
“Not before now.”
“Then you don’t know that we’re trained to be on edge all the time; it keeps us ready for battle. The only time you’ll see other sides to a soldier is during little moments like this one.”
“Maybe,” she replies doubtfully. Rokov’s cims cked evidence and were probably false, but Avon felt strangely comforted by his words.
“Besides, you’re a vice general, a Silencer, and a Hayton. You’re like the perfect three-yer cocktail. Folks should be lining up to work with you,” he praises. “I know I would.”
Avon instinctively perked up at the mention of a cocktail. Then, she disappointedly realizes he was being metaphorical.
“You seem ignorant of what being an elite entails, Commander,” she scoffs. “As you said, I am a Hayton. A member of the Great Families. The daughter of a despised lineage.”
Avon lifts up her hand to show Rokov her gold ring. He takes a second to admire the intricate craftsmanship, especially the Hayton crest in the middle: a four-winged eagle shaped like an “H”. The symbol was carved from a smooth bck material resembling a fingernail.
“I may wear this crest, but I have no attachment to my family anymore. Everything I have now, I acquired by myself. Without their help.”
The Great Families consist of the Haytons, Volckers, Jensons, Hebriras, and Steinveises. All of them owned corporations that fueled the rise of the Gactic Confederacy: Hayton Industries, the Interstelr Energy Coalition, CCC Federation, the Third Bank of Humanity, and the Steinveis groups (SCA and SAL), respectively.
Out of the original five, the Jensons are extinct, the Volckers are in decline, the Hebriras faded into the background, and the Steinveises joined the Rebellion. That leaves the Haytons as the st Great Family standing. And unfortunately, they aren’t pnning to fall anytime soon.
Meanwhile, Rokov wasn’t fazed by the Vice General’s negativity. “Yeah, I know all about Hayton Industries.”
“I’m not fond of putting people in boxes. All that matters is whether or not someone is likable.”
Avon shakes her head at his naivety. “That is a very unworldly attitude.”
“With that, I like you already~” he decres with a grin.
“Eh–?” Avon excims. “Is that sarcasm? I don’t easily detect sarcasm.”
“Nope!”
“You don’t mince words, and I think that’s very cool. Being an heiress must come with the right to have no filter.”
“Still, if we’re gonna be friends, you should loosen up a bit. Acting so uptight and using big words all the time must tire you out.”
“I don’t remember agreeing to be your friend,” she retorts. “I’m not a people person and have no desire to be one.”
“You haven’t driven me away. I’m a person, no?” Rokov asks pyfully. Avon rolls her eyes.
“You’re being very persistent, Commander. I doubt anyone could.”
“Gregori.”
“Hm?”
“I don’t want you to be so formal with me,” Rokov expins. “So, you can start by calling me by my name.”
Avon hesitates. She knows all Humans are disingenuous, especially to people like her whom they find intimidating. Yet, even though this is the first time they’re speaking, Rokov (or rather, Gregori) doesn’t seem disturbed by her at all.
“Erm, if you insist… Gregori,” she acquiesced.
“On another note, you do look worn out,” he remarks. “It’s only your first day, you should sleep.”
“I will be fine. I still have a few matters to attend to.”
For all their faults, Avon is gd that one of the greatest inventions in history was invented by Hayton Industries: an OTC repcement for sleep.
“Turbo-Pod 6 just freed up.”
“Thanks, Vice General. See you!” Rokov waves at Avon before entering the pod.
“Hmph…”
CSS LEGEND, TURBO-POD HUB (NEXT MORNING)
“Good morning!”
Avon jumps slightly. Once again, she’s waiting for a Turbo-Pod by herself, and Rokov sits down next to her. She was still somewhat groggy from the all-nighter she pulled.
“I thought I’d find you here, so I bought two coffees. This one’s for you.” He hands her a cup, which she accepts.
“Thank you, Gregori.”
“I didn’t know what you usually get, but everyone loves an iced tte.”
“True,” Avon agrees while taking a few sips. “However, I prefer mixing my coffee with liqueur.”
“Hard coffee, huh? That’s a new one.”
“Alcohol helps me rex.” Avon isn’t picky about how she gets her booze, either. She enjoys high-end cocktails and cheap beer equally.
“By the way, do you follow basketball?” asks Rokov. Avon’s eyes light up.
“I do. You must intend to discuss st night’s game between the Xanthos Crows at the Tri-Seven Ingots.”
Avon started pying and following basketball while in the Academy. Even though she wasn’t that tall (in fact, she thinks her legs look stubby without heels), she took up the sport to improve her teamwork and social skills. Then, Avon discovered she had a knack for it, and those original goals got pushed to the side.
“You bet!” Rokov was surprised how quickly he found something they had in common.
“Can you believe the Crows clinched victory despite trailing the whole game? It was an amazing comeback!”
However, instead of getting excited with him, Avon wore a look of disappointment. “I had to work all night, I wasn’t able to watch it.”
“Oh, sorry about that.” Rokov gently pats the weary Vice General on the back. “Did you at least get some sleep?”
“No… Ahem, Turbo-Pod 2 is open.”
“Thanks.” After a second, Rokov turns around and sees Avon still seated. “Uh, you coming, Vice General? It’s chow time, and we just got a new batch of eggs.”
Eggs don’t st long on any warship, especially the Legend since they’re Bull’s favorite food. Avon is tempted to get the first pick, but she still shakes her head.
“After yesterday, I pn to have food delivered to my quarters.”
Remembering yesterday, Rokov shrugs. “Well, I can’t exactly bme you for that. Guess I’ll see you ter.”
“Yes, ter… Gregori.”
After he leaves, Avon wonders why Rokov is being so friendly to her. At first, she thinks it’s out of sexual desire, but surely he wouldn’t be stupid enough to court a Hayton. And if he truly was looking for a friend, why pursue her?
Wait, why am I even thinking about this? she asks herself. It’s irrelevant. He’s irrelevant. Right now, this purchase order for the General is my primary concern.
Once a Turbo-Pod frees up, Avon finishes her coffee and throws out the cup. By the time she sat inside it, she also managed to lock away all those vexing thoughts.
CSS LEGEND, TRAINING DECK, FITNESS CENTER (FOLLOWING AFTERNOON)
“28… 29… 30!”
*cnk*
“Whew… all done!” Rokov gasps, out of breath.
He puts the heavy barbell on his shoulders back onto the rack and sits down. As he wipes his sweaty face, Bull comes in with his own gym bag to start his workout.
“Ah! Afternoon, sir.”
“Good afternoon, Rokov. You finished here?”
“Yup.”
“Oh, do you know where Hayton is?” he asks. “I tried asking around, but people just gave me a funny look and walked away.”
“I passed her by in the shooting range just now,” Bull replies. “Why do you ask?”
“I wanna talk to her. She’s kinda snooty but fun.” Seeing Rokov back to his old tricks, the General gives him a dirty look. Rokov’s almost shivers from the ice in his eyes.
“You better not be getting any funny ideas, Commander! She’s still your vice general and a Hayton!”
“As if!” Rokov cries. “How little do you think of me!?” Bull gres at him with doubt. “I’m serious!”
“You’re pying with fire, Rokov. I know how fond you are of women in uniform.” Rokov was a little ashamed that his commanding officer knew his preferences. “And she is very beautiful.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, sir, there’s hundreds of girls here. Sure, she’s pretty, but anyone could tell she’s out of reach.”
“Besides, she’s an elite. Why would she ever go out with a no-name like me?” Bull shrugs.
“How should I know? Love has worse aim than you.”
Having finished packing, Rokov slings his gym bag over his shoulder. The General was the st person he’d expect to act cheeky. He gives Bull a dirty look on his way out.
“Enjoy your workout, sir…”
Bull scratches his head in confusion. He was only trying to give Rokov advice, so why did he look so frustrated? Young people these days can be so perplexing.
CSS LEGEND, TRAINING DECK, SHOOTING RANGE
When Bull became the Legend’s general, his first act was that all crewmembers must log in at least six hours of training every week. Typically, this means traditional exercise, combat drills, or live fights against Dummy Drones. However, for those who prefer something less intensive, firearm training counts as well.
“Fuu…”
Steeling herself, Avon stands in one of the nes with her DH-25 Lupine pistol. With a pop, three targets appear.
*bang bang bang*
Out of the three shots she fired, two hit, but one missed.
BUZZ
After putting a new magazine in her gun, she checks her score on the console.
“28 out of 40, 70% again,” she mutters with a frown. “Not good enough.”
“That’s not half bad, Vice General.”
“Gregori?” Avon steps aside to let the next person step into her booth.
“Personally, pistols and rifles just don’t work for me. I just carry this because I have to.”
Rokov pulls out his Krolve 28 from the holster on his back. In GSAF, soldiers and officers must carry a melee weapon and loaded gun at all times. But compared to the battered vambrace holding Rokov’s knife, his sidearm was shiny and new.
“My go-to primary is a backpack-fed machine gun.”
“Not the lightest nor most convenient weapon,” Avon remarks. “I can name many issues that could occur during a firefight.”
“Well, I’d rather lug around an extra 20 kilos than worry about my aim.” Rokov felt his stomach growl slightly. After training, a little food and R&R would hit the spot.
“By the way, the snack store just got a new shipment of wings. What say we buy some and hit the computer room?” he suggests. “We can watch a superhero movie or some basketball highlights.”
“Some other time.”
“Oh…” Rokov’s face falls. Maybe he came on too strongly.
“Because the General believes we’re going to receive an assignment soon,” Avon reveals. “He needs me to assist him in an armory inspection. I hope you understand.”
“Oh! In that case, it’s all good.”
“And hey, if you need any help, just call me. I don’t know much about logistics, but I’m always happy to lift something heavy.” Rokov flexes his right bicep, which makes Avon snicker.
“I will keep that in mind,” she replies. “On the off chance I am free ter… I suppose I should notify you…”
“So… let’s exchange numbers.”
Avon reached into one of her pouches and hesitantly handed Rokov her phone. She knows this is unnecessary, she can just look up his information in the ship’s database. But she’s also pretty sure this is what friends do. At least, that’s what she observed others doing.
As for Rokov, he just calmly puts in his phone number, gd that the Vice General was finally opening up to him.
CSS LEGEND, COMPUTER ROOM (2 DAYS LATER, EVENING)
After finishing up for the night, Rokov and two fellow gamers he met head to the Legend’s computer room to py video games. Unlike other officers, Bull and Desha keep the ship’s cosminternet transmitter online constantly. This way, the crew can watch live sports, keep in touch with friends and family, or py MMORPGs like Tenth Realm 2. Digitally connecting the warship to the rest of the gaxy may create a target for cybercriminals, but the crew’s happiness is worth the risk.
“…and that’s basically everything you need to know about the new TR2 raid,” Rokov says to a girl with blue hair on his left. If there’s one thing Rokov is an expert in, it’s internet culture. When it comes to movies and video games, he’s not afraid to geek out.
“Gotta be honest, you lost me at ‘Extinction Dragon,’” she tells him.
“Wrong game, Becky.”
Inside, the computer room was quite crowded. At one of the desks sits a skinny, fair-skinned man with his hat in front of his keyboard. He’s downloading a series of essays on maintaining morale during long-term deployments.
This was Captain Gerard Sul, one of the few officers in Bull’s inner circle. Prior to Avon’s arrival, he operated as his unofficial second-in-command. While not the best fighter or tactician, he is an eloquent speaker with a talent for diplomatic rhetoric.
“Hey there,” Sul greets Rokov and his friends. Unlike most Humans, his voice has a slight accent. “I’m almost done, so one of you can have my computer.”
“Thanks, Captain,” he replies.
Once he finishes, Sul unplugs his phone from the computer and puts his hat back on. He stands up and lets Becky take his seat.
“Word on the grapevine is you’ve been trailing Hayton, Rokov. I think she’s in the engine room right now, chewing out the technicians.”
“Poor bastard…” Rokov’s other companion, a man with a ponytail wearing a coat, shakes his head sadly. During her first few days on the ship, Avon used her mathematical abilities to improve the efficiency of daily operations. However, those who do not follow her instructions to the letter quickly learn their vice general also has a very short fuse.
“Look, if you’re trying to get on her good side, Gregori, don’t bother,” advises Becky while she logs in. “A buddy of mine told me that his sister’s girlfriend’s roommate tried to do that. Hayton didn’t have any words for her.”
The other soldier shakes his head. “You got it wrong, Becky. It was your friend’s sister’s roommate’s girlfriend.”
“Hmm… Yep, you’re right. Good catch, Shay.”
“You two are bugging. Sure, she can be a bit icy, but she’s not all that,” Rokov argues in her defense. He then faces Sul. “Still, hanks for letting me know.”
“You’re meeting her now!?” excims Shay.
“Yeah. Why not?”
“I thought we were pying the new raid in Tenth Realm 2! You said we need at least three people!” Rokov sees he has a choice to make… an easy one, though.
“Then, we’ll have to take a rain check. Meanwhile, you two need better gear anyway. Use this time to level up.” He nods respectfully towards Sul on his way out. “Captain.”
“But–!”
“He’s gone,” said Sul. Shay sighed while Becky crossed her arms indignantly.
“Great… I was this close to getting him to ask me out,” she harrumphs.
“Hey, if it’s any soce, you two, I think Rokov might be trying to do a very nice thing. For Hayton and for us.”
“What do you mean by that?” Shay asks. Sul smirks at him.
“I’m talking about the ‘starving alligator’ principle.”
“And what’s that?”
“It means that if you tame a starving alligator with lots of TLC, it’ll focus all its attention on you, making it less of a danger to others,” Becky expins matter-of-factly. “I watched a very good NetFilm documentary on the theory.”
“Nah, that’s not what I meant,” replied Shay. “I meant, what’s an alligator?”
CSS LEGEND, ENGINE ROOM
“–and what is this!?” Avon shrieks.
“I… uh…” A flustered engineer desperately backs away from Avon. She throws a diginote with his report at him, hitting him right in the head.
“My orders were to increase engine power by recalibrating the secondary generators, not tapping into our emergency backup reserves!”
“But… the secondary generators are used for a number of facilities while the backups just sit there unused,” the engineer babbles. “We’re in Confederate space, it would be a waste.”
Avon grabs the engineer and shoves him hard into a bulkhead with surprising strength.
“Military regutions prohibit using anything on a warship that is reserved for emergencies unless it’s an emergency,” she growls.
“Are you so retarded, you don’t know what an ‘emergency’ is!? Because st I checked, I’m a Silencer, not a goddamn kindergarten teacher!”
“The General is fine with it…” he mumbles.
“That’s because he never caught you!” The acoustics of the engine room amplify Avon’s shouts for everyone to hear. The other engineers keep their heads down out of fear that the Vice General will thrash them too.
Finally, she lets him go by throwing him onto the floor. By now, faint purple rings are starting to appear in her brown eyes.
“Now, do it properly. Otherwise, I’ll repce you with someone who can. Or is unemployment also something you don’t know?” she threatens, putting a hand over her holster. So far, she hasn’t killed anyone for incompetence, despite being tempted a few times. This was one of those times.
“N-No, ma’am, I know what you mean!” the engineer begs while scrambling away. “I promise you, it won’t happen again!”
After fixing her medals, Avon storms out of the engine room while rubbing her temples. “What a damn prick…” she mumbles. “Idiots like him shouldn’t even be anywhere near a cosmitanium reactor. If I knew who certified him, I could put a bounty on their head.”
“I didn’t know you could raise your voice like that.”
“Fueh–!” Avon gasped before blushing at the embarrassing sound she just made.
“Oh, thank God it’s you, Gregori…” She sighs in relief, then gives him a death stare. “Why would you startle me like that!?”
“You didn’t see me!? I was standing here for, like, five minutes!”
“Really? My apologies.” That means he heard everything she said, including her swearing. This realization adds to her embarrassment.
“No need to apologize, I get it. It’s reassuring to know that even elites get pissed off at stupid coworkers,” Rokov quips while giving Avon a reassuring smile. “If you want, there’s another sale in the snack store. Maybe some sugar will recharge your batteries.”
Avon checks her phone to see if she has time.
Evening schedule:
1. Conduct a proximity scan.
2. Finish 4 additional reports for the Defense Cabinet.
3. Psionic drills with the 3rd Shift (focus on whip techniques).
4. Study the test stock market and sports news. (Note: the Xanthos Crows are good this year!?)
5. Follow up with contacts in RavenTech.
Reminder: Work overtime, all night if necessary (and buy stronger sleep repcement pills).
She still has a lot of work, but when she lifts her head, Rokov looks at her with pleading eyes. Avon knew that the right thing to do was to turn him down (again). But when she opens her mouth, she ends up saying…
“Sure, I have time.”
CSS LEGEND, RECREATION DECK, LOUNGE
When Rokov and Avon entered the lounge, to her relief, there weren’t many people. They tiredly colpsed onto one of the couches and spaced out. Rokov purchased a small bag of sugar cookies at the snack shop, which he shared with her. Meanwhile, an old pop song pys on one of the speakers.
The Angel of Life… for when you’re living on a prayer!
She’ll settle your strifes… for when you are lost!
So, open your heart and mind
Happiness and love, you’ll find
Praise the Angel of Life!
“Praise the Angel of Life… And keep looking forward, not behind. For she is always at your side,” Avon sings faintly.
“You know that song?” Rokov asks, surprised. Avon’s eyes widened; she didn’t know she was singing aloud.
“‘Angel of Life’ was released by the original Angel Cn over thirty years ago,” he informs. “It’s catchy, but only fans of retro groups should know it.”
“Well, so do I,” Avon answers without eborating. Despite her deadpan tone, her face showed more resentment than normal. So, Rokov decides not to pry.
“You have a nice voice,” he praises.
“I had an expensive education,” Avon answered. “I stopped singing in the Academy as my voice got deeper. That’s when I decided to take up basketball.”
“It’s still nice. I think you’d still be good.” Avon doesn’t respond to his compliment. Meanwhile, Rokov recalls something else he’s been meaning to ask.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Vice General, but whenever I look at you, I get this feeling of déjà vu. Isn’t that weird?”
Avon makes the same face she made when he mentioned Angel Cn. “Standard paradoxical state-dependent associative phenomenon,” she decres emotionlessly. “Pay no attention to it.”
“Huh?”
“To my knowledge, we haven’t met until recently. So don’t waste time thinking about it,” she rephrases.
“Then, can you zap my cell phone with some psi-juice? My charger broke, and I’m at 20%.” Avon rolls her eyes. Once again, Rokov’s naivety rears its empty head.
“See this? I wear this device to avoid using psionics out of combat.” Avon rolls up her left sleeve and taps her inhibitor bracelet. “Unless I’m training or in battle, I’m not permitted to remove it. Even when I sleep.”
“How come?” asks Rokov curiously. Ordinary soldiers like him seldom get to learn anything about Silencers. Partly because the nature of their empowered cohorts is none of their concern. Mostly because said cohorts tend to be sour people.
“We Humans can’t produce our own psiotas, nor do we have a power source like a World Tree to draw them from. Silencers are only allotted a single Power Pill every fiscal quarter to replenish them. So, it’d be unwise to use my powers for such trivialities.”
Avon feels her stomach wrench when she mentions Power Pills, tablets made with psionic energy and processed Deldraka DNA. Unbeknownst to her as a cadet, these pills also have unpleasant side effects. In her case, Avon would experience the symptoms of alcohol withdrawal for a whole day.
“What happens if you run out of psiotas?” Rokov asks.
“I could die, go insane, and/or suffer irreparable nerve damage,” Avon says dully. “There is a chance I’ll just be depowered and nothing more, but those are extremely rare cases.”
“That all sounds awful,” Rokov breathes. “I thought the big brass made you wear those things so you don’t do anything stupid with your powers.”
“Gregori, I was handpicked out of countless cadets based on genetic data and personality evaluations. If I were to use my powers outside of an operation, it’d be for a valid cause… or an unfortunate accident.”
At that moment, Avon remembers that she felt her eyes change color in the engine room. It was a warning sign that her emotional control was starting to slip. She took a deep breath to calm herself down, but it didn’t help much.
“In any case, my psionic bsts will just destroy your phone,” she concluded.
“Couldn’t you have just said that instead?”
“I could’ve.” Avon’s lips curl into a small but mischievous smile. Sadly, it vanishes just as fast. “Gregori, why are you going out of your way to spend time with me?”
“I’m not ‘going out of my way,’” Rokov corrects her. “That would imply I don’t enjoy your company, Vice General.”
“Get to the point,” she demands, unamused.
Rokov lets out a glum sigh. “The truth is, I can tell you’re lonely, and I feel bad,” he admits.
“You obviously don’t have any friends, and there are still people who refuse to look at you. I haven’t seen you call or text anyone for non-work reasons either.”
“No matter how I look at it, all the things you have are poor substitutes for someone to hang out with. Someone who you can enjoy being around.” He gives Avon a small, pyful nudge. “You understand what I mean, right?”
Slowly, Avon’s resolve starts to crack. She didn’t think someone could have such pure, unadulterated care for her well-being. Her status or her disposition should’ve driven him away, but they didn’t. Even so, a vice general can’t let herself to melt in public.
“I understand that you are simple-minded beyond all hope, Gregori,” she berates. “Have you considered that associating with someone of my reputation will have negative repercussions?”
“Nope.”
“You’re a liar.”
“Am not! Your cynicism is such a turn-off!”
“I-I didn’t mean to offend you…” Avon stammers. She’s never done that before.
“I just believe that other people are untrustworthy and difficult to predict. Which is why I prefer to keep all my retionships strictly professional.”
“That way, my colleagues and I are of one mind, bound by our objective and nothing more… I say this as a Silencer, an officer, and a Hayton.”
“I see,” Rokov replies. “That’s also why others refuse to take the time to get to know you. You’re being too distant.”
“Remember when I said soldiers show a different side to them when they’re not on edge? It seems the same goes for you.”
“So, loosen up. Show them there’s more to you than meets the eye.” He nudges her again.
“Because underneath that icy attitude, you’re not bad, Vice General.”
Avon didn’t know what to say. Maybe she is too distant, but she doesn’t know how to be any other way. Perhaps by observing someone like Rokov, she could learn to “loosen up.”
“Honestly, I enjoy these little moments with you, Gregori,” she confesses. Her smile returns, and this time, it doesn’t go away. “And I’m gd you see me as your friend.”
“I’m gd that you’re gd,” Rokov chuckles. “Coming from you, that’s probably the best compliment I’ll ever get.”
“A-And, but only if you want to…” Avon takes another deep breath, this time for confidence. “Please call me Avon.”
“Avon?”
“It’s short for Avonnica.”
“Wow… That’s a very pretty name.”
“Thank you. I think it means ‘river’ in a forgotten nguage. My mother named me when I was born, but that’s another story.”
“You should tell me sometime.”
“Another day.”
When Rokov checks the time, he’s amazed that it’s already been an hour. To him, their conversation felt like only five minutes.
“Looks like the clock got away from us,” he mutters. “It’s already time for me to call it a night.”
Avon nodded as she and her new friend reluctantly left the comfy couch. They may have schedules to keep, but she wasn’t eager for this moment to end.
“May I walk you to your barracks, Gregori?” she asks.
“Sure.” Rokov shakes the bag of cookies in his hands. They were too busy talking to eat them. “We still got a few snacks to finish anyway.”
CSS LEGEND, 1ST SAPPHIRE COMPANY BARRACKS, TURBO-POD EXIT
Once it reaches the end of the tunnel, the Turbo-Pod opens. After unfastening his seatbelt, Rokov begins to walk out.
“Good night, Avon. See you tom–”
“Zzzz…”
Hearing some faint snoring, he turns around. Apparently, Avon dozed off during their three-minute journey. The gentle whir of a Turbo-Pod must’ve rocked her to sleep.
How many hours of overtime has she been putting in? She’s out cold!
Rokov knew he had to wake her up before the Turbo-Pod left. A pretty woman sleeping in public is a tale that never ends well. So, he firmly pokes her cheek.
“Hm…?” Avon stirs slightly. So, he pokes her two more times…
“Nngh…” …then three.
“Stop that… I’m awake,” Avon mumbled while spping his hand.
“Seriously, don’t pull another all-nighter!” Rokov scolds. “Get some sleep tonight!”
“If… If you say so,” Avon yawned rudely, too tired to maintain her dylike veneer.
“If you push yourself too hard, you won’t have any energy the next time we hang out,” he informs. “You’re a girl, not a machine.”
“Yes, yes… I will see you… in the morning…”
Avon waves her hand dismissively as the hatch closes behind her. Rokov notices her rubbing her eyes, struggling to stay conscious. For a girl named “river,” she’s ridiculously hard-headed.
“She’s totally gonna stay up all night…” Rokov could tell friendship was going to be a lot of work.