Stories, The Scions

The Scions – 7b

Autumn

Hartmann studied her, still feeling a little choked over the way Carol had latched onto his confession of the truth. Any normal person in her position would still be seething with resentment towards him for abruptly shattering everything about their life, but Carol … she had yet to complain that she missed her friends, her apartment, or her favorite pair of shoes. As they recited the NATO alphabet together, it was almost as if she didn’t even remember that he was the reason why she was there in the first place, or that her life had been different just a few days prior. She submitted to her fate as a military asset without resistance, and was now clear-headed enough to peer through his facade when she should have been overcome with emotion.

After repeating “x-ray, yankee, zulu,” a few times, Carol mused quietly, “I wonder where the captain went.”

“Undoubtedly for a little …” Hartmann curled his fingers into a loose fist with his thumb out, which he pointed at his mouth as he tilted his head back. Carol looked at him, baffled.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“Captain Lambert is a drunk,” Hartmann replied.

“But he never seems drunk.” Carol’s brow wrinkled.

Hartmann shrugged. “I don’t know the exact particulars of his drinking habits, but everyone knows that he hits the whiskey bottles hard. He’s under a lot of pressure to make something useful out of you, so he’s probably going to be indulging more than usual for the next while.”

Carol fixed her eyes on the table and pushed her fists hard onto her knees. “I’m not trying to be difficult.”

“I know.”

“I really am doing my best,” she continued. “I don’t see why it would drive him to drink. It’s not like I’m making him fight me to be more cooperative or anything like that.”

“It’s the general, not you. Captain Lambert’s been given orders that he’s got to push through, no matter what.” The image of Lambert encouraging Carol as she lay on the ground flashed through Hartmann’s mind and tightened his jaw. “It might be best if you keep low around him, and try not to agitate him.”

“You think so?” Carol asked slowly, and bit her lower lip. Hartmann glanced over at the corporal, and was disappointed to see that Holmes was watching them.

“Yes.” He stood and made a show of stretching. “Let’s get dinner. You need to remember to always eat three square meals a day to keep your strength up and build your muscles.”

“You guys are so weird about that,” Carol said with a smile.

“We’re trained to be.” Hartmann held out his hand to help Carol up, and she took it hesitantly then let go quickly. “Unless Captain Lambert instructs otherwise, you’re dismissed for personal time afterwards.”

Something about that made Carol laugh. “Personal time, huh?”

Hartmann studied her carefully, trying to read her thoughts. “Don’t have anything to do?” he asked.

She looked him straight in the eyes, her expression strange and uncharacteristic as she replied bluntly, “No. And you already know that.”

It reminded him of the moment she had mysteriously slipped through his fingers and jumped into the Suit – the moment that had begun this entire debacle that held him captive. The thought flashed through his mind that there was another Carol hiding inside, and that was the reason why she seemed so empty at first glance. Was the boring, bland woman a mask for something else?

The pieces were beginning to form. Carol, orphaned as a toddler in a tragedy that had nearly killed her as well, had grown up in foster care, emancipated herself at a young age, found stability, then stagnated for nearly half of her life as she drifted into invisibility. While he knew that there was some significance behind it all, he couldn’t place his finger on what.

For a brief moment, he considered asking Lambert for his analysis – it was well known that the captain had worked as a psychologist before enlisting, and would be able to better interpret what Hartmann had discovered – but he immediately disregarded the idea as harebrained. He needed to keep those two apart, not give them an excuse to engage in emotional bonding.

About Me

Online

Autumn

Technical difficulties left us without internet for a few days. Naturally the kids complained, and I was all, “When I was your age, we didn’t have the internet at all.”

Cue feeling old.

I think my family got online around ’98 when I was 10, with dial up over the phone lines so no one could make or receive any calls while it was connected, which severely limited how much time we spent on the internet. Kind of crazy thinking back to how much the world has changed since then.

Anyway, it was kind of a spontaneous vacation. Got pancakes at IHOP, went to a craft store in person, spent time at our local indoor swimming pool, and roasted coffee beans over charcoal briquettes to see how it would taste, despite there still being snow on the ground.

Now here I am, not doing anything particularly useful because the internet is back. I question everything.

Sorry about not updating The Scions on Monday, but I didn’t get it set up before the technical difficulties started. With everything as it is, I figure that I can resume next week.

art

Alice

Autumn

Rebel Alice

Reformed Alice

The main character of Alice and the Warden.

Images created with Stable Diffusion. Being able to bring my characters to life like this is A-MAY-ZING.

Stories, The Scions

The Scions – 7a

Autumn

“Book learning” saw Carol in a small classroom with her military entourage. Lambert was up front, using the projector in an attempt to teach her how to read maps, while Hartmann leaned against a desk close behind her. He noted that Holmes was in the back corner furtively glancing at his phone, and simultaneously felt annoyed at the lack of discipline with the younger soldiers, yet relieved at finding a weakness he could exploit.

After an hour, the captain gave in to the despair in Carol’s eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he grumbled for Hartmann to take over, then left the classroom. Unlike Lambert, Hartmann wasn’t under any pressure to turn Carol into a soldier, so he found her ineptitude comforting – the woman had such a hard time grasping basic geography, it made sense that she only traveled by bus; if it was up to her to navigate, she’d never make it anywhere. By the end of the week, he was certain, Lambert would report that Carol was impossible to work with, and Hartmann would be back in the Suit for the mission.

“Let’s switch over to something easy,” he said, not moving from his spot. “The NATO phonetic alphabet.”

“What is that?” Carol asked, turning around to look at him.

“It’s for over the radio, to reduce potential confusion.” He grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen, and began scrawling down a series of words. “You memorize it, then use it instead of the ABCs.” A minute later, he handed the paper over to Carol, and she stared at it.

“Your handwriting it terrible,” she blurted, then turned red with embarrassment.

Hartmann grinned. “I’m a military guy, remember? It’s a miracle I even know how to write, given that my career revolves around point and kill.”

She smiled in return. “Maps and running too, apparently.”

“Words just get in the way. Why, if I picked up a book and started reading, I might get ideas in my head.” He sat down in a chair next to her and leaned towards her.

“Like what?” Carol asked, her eyes seeming huge as she looked at him.

“Like that I’m actually a person, and not a killing machine.” He jabbed his finger down onto the paper. “Alpha, bravo, charlie,” he said. “C’mon and repeat it.”

Carol repeated it, over and over, until it sounded like a sing-song. Then he moved her onto another group of letters to recite. After reaching “tango,” she randomly commented instead, “Sometimes I wonder if I’m actually a person, too.”

Hartmann paused, an uncomfortable lump forming in his throat. “Why do you say that?” he asked, his voice rasping a little.

“You said that we have more in common that you realized at first,” Carol answered. He hated the sincerity in her words, and the way that she looked at him earnestly. “It occurred to me that was something that we shared.”

Hartmann unconsciously clenched his hand into a fist, but forced a smile as he replied, “You’ve been thinking about what I said?”

Carol blushed deeply and turned away to stare intently at the paper, muttering, “Sorry.”

He glanced back at Holmes, ensuring that the ever present corporal was distracted with his phone, and reached over to lightly touch her fingers. “Most people don’t see through me. I didn’t expect that you’d connect the joke with what I confessed earlier.”

“I didn’t mean to, I …” Carol stuttered, then bit her lip.

“Be careful, Carol,” he said quietly. “If you keep this up, I might not be able to keep myself from liking you.”

She was red clear to her ears, and pulled her hand away as she recited, “T-tango, uniform, victor. Tango, uniform, victor.”

About Me

Cat update

Autumn

The 16-year-old dying cat is peeing on everything.

I’m resigned to simply dealing with it until the inevitable. I’ve told the children many times over that they need to keep the doors to their bedrooms shut to prevent the cat from peeing on their things as well. Naturally, they didn’t listen, and I’ve had to do some extra laundry loads as a result.

I’ve been keeping old towels on the floor in the kitchen, to encourage the cat to pee on them instead of anything else. Easier to manage. Somewhat works. We already have an easily accessible low-profile litter box for the three-legged cat, and at least he’s doing his other business in there.

Death is such a tricky subject, particularly with these slow moving conditions. We know the cat’s kidneys are failing, he occasionally throws up uric acid, but he’s on a (ridiculously expensive) specialized low-protein diet, and he does seem to be holding steady. I could be cleaning up cat pee and vomit for awhile.

Better than ‘died suddenly’. Please excuse the smell, we’re all coping with something over here. It’s still too wintery to bust out the spring cleaning supplies. Heavy snowstorms and all that. Maybe in March.

art

Rigid Heddle weaving #4

Autumn

Made this for one of my daughters. She started loving it the second I cut it off the loom, so it’s already got some wear and tear. 😀

I’ve finally moved into using pickup sticks to add “floats” in my weaving, which gives it a pretty texture. Off the loom, the front side looks like it has little chains going along it.

So … this isn’t actually the 4th thing I’ve woven on my rigid heddle loom. I’ve done lots of projects, but for whatever reason, haven’t posted about them. I was kind of surprised when I looked through my blog and realized how much hasn’t made it into a post. Ha ha, I’m such a ditz.

Stories, The Scions

The Scions – 6b

Autumn

“All right, commander, it’s time for that push up,” the captain said calmly, and Carol looked surprised.

“Just one?” she asked.

“Just one,” Lambert repeated. “If you can manage.”

Carol stretched out on the ground with her hands propping her up, but before she started, Lambert instructed, “Lower your ass and keep your legs straight. Don’t drop your head like that. Now your ass is too low.”

Once he was satisfied with her form, Carol lowered herself down to the ground, and her face turned bright red. Her arms wobbled as she struggled to push herself back up, then her arms gave out and she dropped down to her stomach, where she buried her face in her hands to hide.

Lambert squatted down beside her. “I know that you aren’t a soldier, Carol,” he said reassuringly. “But you still need to keep trying.”

“Why?” Carol looked up, her eyes rimmed red, and she made a noise that sounded like half of a sniffle. “The Suit doesn’t require much physical strength.”

“Because a strong body makes for a strong mind, and it’s still going to be your responsibility to make snap decisions in the heat of battle. You can’t be distracted because you didn’t sleep well, or because you skipped breakfast. Understand?” Lambert answered.

Carol nodded pathetically from her position on the ground.

“Besides,” the captain added, lowering himself all the way to sit, “it’s physically strenuous to be out on a mission for ten or more hours. The Suit helps, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re still human.”

“… Yes, sir,” Carol murmured, and for a moment she stared at the captain. Lambert squeezed his hand into a fist and thoughtfully pushed against the ground, then rose and gently kicked the soles of her shoes.

“C’mon and try again. You can lower your knees if you have to, but I want that ass in perfect position.”

“Yes, sir!” Carol raised herself up once again, and with some difficulty managed to complete the modified push up, the stood with a beaming smile on her face.

The whole scene was sickeningly cute.

And there wasn’t anything that Hartmann could do.

He kept his face expressionless, folding his hands together to stand at ease though his muscles still remained rigid. His mind was racing, searching for any possible way he could redeem the situation, his eyes locked on both Carol and the captain.

Lambert cast a sideways glance at the master sergeant, scowled, then muttered, “Don’t be too proud of yourself, commander. Any man could do better.”

The corners of Carol’s mouth abruptly turned downwards, and she also looked over at Hartmann, no doubt thinking of the day before when he had shown off by clapping in between his push ups. “Yes, sir,” she answered monotonously.

Lambert looked down at his watch, and said, “Break for lunch, then we’ll start on your book learning. I’ll get corporal Holmes to escort you to the mess hall.”

“I’ll take her, sir,” Hartmann interjected. “The corporal can meet us there.”

Lambert’s scowl deepened. “Fine.” He spoke into the radio from his belt, then nodded to Hartmann. Without looking at Carol, he turned to walk towards the building. He stopped before entering the double doors, glanced back to ensure that Lambert had gone in the direction of his office instead, then grinned at Carol as he placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Good job,” he said.

She looked at him with earnest eyes and asked, “You really think so?”

“Absolutely. You pushed yourself out there, and you did much better today.” Hartmann opened the door and held it as Carol walked through.

“The captain was right though,” she mumbled, then bit her lip.

“Everyone starts somewhere.” Hartmann shrugged. “Don’t take the things he says too personally. He’s your commanding officer, and it’s his job to keep you motivated to produce results. He’s going to be a jerk to you no matter what.”

“That doesn’t seem very fair,” Carol answered slowly.

“Welcome to the military.” Hartmann stopped just inside the mess hall and gestured towards one of the tables. “May I join you, or are you going to chase me off again?”

“No, it’s fine.” Carol’s cheeks turned pink as she became flustered. “Where’s Holmes?”

Hartmann quickly scanned the large room. “He’s not here yet.”

Carol hesitated, looked around as well, then blurted, “What gives? Why are you being nice to me after calling me a bitch and telling me to quit my job?”

He had known that he would have to face that question sooner or later, but he hadn’t yet come up with a perfect answer that would erase any doubts in Carol’s mind. Hartmann frowned, knowing that if he dodged the question or failed to give a satisfactory reply, it would permanently harm his chances with her. When his mind was still blank after several seconds, he replied truthfully, “I was jealous of you.”

Carol was taken back. “Why?”

“You know the Suit better than I do.” Hartmann’s eyes found Holmes on the other side of the mess hall, so he added quickly, “I still am, too.”

“So why are you being nice?” She repeated.

“Because … we have more in common than I realized.” He strode forward to meet the corporal, aware of Carol’s gaze fixed on him. Good, he thought. It was about time that she had begun to notice him in return.