Now is the Winter of Our Discontent

Posted on Sat 23rd May, 2020 @ 10:56pm by
Edited on on Mon 26th Apr, 2021 @ 3:25pm

463 words; about a 2 minute read

Mission: Resolution
Location: Besm enclave, Winter quarters.
Timeline: MD 16, 13:10

February Winter slammed the cabinet door angrily. "I know I'm on call," she snapped at her sister September. "But she never jectivang goes anywhere! I just sit around the office twiddling my thumbs!"

September leaned against the counter. She studied her sister. Once, their faces had been identical, and they'd had eight other sisters who wore the same features. Now, the right side of February's face was hideously scarred, plasma burned in the explosion which had taken one of those sisters from them. The technology existed to smooth out the scars, to restore February's features; it made September somewhat uneasy that her sister had deliberately chosen to wear them. "I'm mostly doing PADD-work," she admitted. "People want technology exchanges, and for some reason, have decided those need to go through the Governor's office."

"At least that's something sort of related to your field," February snapped, slamming the steel bowl she'd pulled out. She moved to the replicator, irritably pounding the control surfaces instead of giving verbal instructions. "I haven't flown at all since we got here. And it feels like charity, which I hate, and a waste of time, which I hate even more!"

September nodded slowly, watching her sister stalk back to the counter with a head of iceberg lettuce. "What would you like to do?" she asked gently.

February yanked open a drawer and removed a knife of surprising size. Ignoring the question for a moment, she began attacking the head of lettuce as if it were personally responsible for her anger at the universe. "I want to fly," she answered, once the leaves were more than adequately shredded. "I want to be doing something, to be out... there..." she gestured wildly with the knife, "finding those fungal spores and making them pay!"

September sighed. "None of them escaped," she pointed out, knowing December meant the pirates who had attacked their ship, killing their sisters and many of their friends aboard USS Samurai. It had been over a year since the attack, but some of them dealt with the grief better than others. February, she thought, was the leader of the "others" category.

"Someone enabled them!" February argued, going back to the replicator and punching the control systems again. "Someone sold them those ships; that cloaking technology. I want to know who, and I want...." She let the thought trail off, picked up the container of ham cubes, and walked back to the counter to dump them into the lettuce.

"Yeah," September said after a long moment. She sighed. "You know... you could just ask the replicator for a chef salad."

February turned and looked at her sister with a wry grin. "I could... but then I wouldn't get to use the knife."

 

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