Defect

VIII

I found myself being frustratingly restless after speaking with everyone. The reactions were nothing but expected. However, imagination can never truly prepare you for the reality of a situation. This week is a consistent reminder of how sensitized I have become. I didn't want to return to my quarters until I could ease my mind; being alone with my thoughts was becoming more concerning. The headache that struck me earlier still throbbed the front temples of my head. Maybe I should really consider reconditioning or possibly getting checked for a concussion but shooting something seemed a lot more comforting; I wandered to the range to visit our feisty quartermaster, Barrya Herwith, an older gentleman that used to be a general for the old Empire. 'A damn good one!' he proclaims every time the subject leads in that direction. Right when the door slide open, I could hear his judgemental scoffs as I stepped in front of the counter.

"Well, well, well..." Barrya said, leaning his mechanical left arm on the surface, leaning closer to me.

"Hey, Barrya." I said, leaning on the wall near the cage he was housed in, preparing myself for his blunt ensemble words

"Hey? You have been ducking me for the past week, and all I get is a measly ass. 'Hey'?" he glared at me with his good right eye; the dark brown pool almost reflected my white armor fully.

"Can't you cut me a little bit of slack? There has been so much going on, and I have barely even had time to think." I grumbled, crossing my arms in an almost childish fashion that I was comfortable showing around him.

"Hmph, 'time to think she says.'" He mumbled, turning away from me to sign something that he was previously looking at. "I'm sorry about VE-34. It's a damn shame; I know her father will be sick if he hasn't already heard. You talk to him?" keeping his back to me.

"I... No, I honestly haven't had the courage to send him a transmission." I didn't know how to answer the first part of his statement. I wondered how he felt about the whole thing he was tied to her past longer than I was. Maybe with his late years, he didn't take betrayals as personally as us younglings. Or perhaps he was just hardened to such things; one could envy such a stern resolve.

"Bah, no matter, let's talk business. I know you didn't come here to just chat with an old man." He turned to me, slamming down a new EE-4 carbine rifle.

I perked my head up; this was more to my liking. Pushing off the wall and stepping to the counter, I trailed a curious middle finger along the barrel. Stopping when I reached the handle, lightly gripping it with my leather gloved hands, bringing it up to the light to peering down the scope that had an extra kick to it.

"Barrya, you shouldn't have. An improved scope, you spoil me." Lowering the weapon, he would mock me if he could see the smile that was beaming on my face.

"Consider this a gift for your little promotion." He pressed a button, leading to the shooting range. "Go ahead, test it out." he grinned, leaving me to my own devices.

With a pep in my step, I eagerly pressed in. Setting up targets to test my new toy, I proceeded to lay this massive weapon counter with glee. Once satisfied, I positioned myself ready for the count down. Each session only lasted a minute, with the goal of shooting as many as possible, with me enthusiastic about beating my last score. Three, two, one; the timer chimed out. One by one, each target was knocked, the metallic ringing from the rounds filled the room almost like melody.

Thirty seconds remained; I was on number twenty, far from my best, but still not too shabby with the slow loading of these weapons. Zooming in on the next target, my mind traveled elsewhere, staring at the featureless image. That morphed into Three-Four, standing there within her standard trooper armor, helmetless, leaning against a railing outside of a tavern in a village.