Lance Alone

Part 14 (Lance)

No one visited him for another three hours, as the sun started to set over the square of desert Lance could see from his window. Lance didn't handle boredom well; no books to read, no music to listen to, no one to talk to. When he heard the lock on his door sliding open, he jumped out of the bunk so quickly he hit his head on the bed above it. Two younger, giggling cadets opened the door, carrying a tray of steaming warm food from the commisary.

"Food delivery," the young girl said. When she saw Lance, her eyes bugged out and she almost dropped the tray. "Woah! You're--it really is--"

"Stop fangirling, Annie," the boy gave her a little shove, "he's probably hungry. Just give him his food."

"Sorry!" she held out the tray, and Lance took it. Annie descended into a fit of giggles. "I can't believe you're really here in front of me!"

Lance beamed, turning on his most mischievous smirk for the young girl, "Believe it, beautiful. I'm back and better than ever."

"Can I have your signature?" Annie batted her eyelashes and elbowed the boy. "Dale, give me a pen."

Dale rolled his eyes and pulled a pen out of his pocket. Annie didn't have anything to sign, so Lance just scribbled his name on the napkin that came along with his meal.

"To my biggest fan and the most talented cadet at the Garrison besides myself," Lance wrote.

Dale crossed his arms, "where have you been this whole time, anyway?"

Lance was ready to tell them the whole story, but then he remembered the hostile world forces arguing in the other room. He wasn't sure if they stopped or just started talking quieter, but there wasn't as much sound coming out of the room anymore. "I'm not sure if I'm allowed to say."

He handed over the napkin, and Annie squealed, tucking it into her pocket. She looked like she wanted to say something else, but then something down the hall made her jump. She tugged at Dale's sleeve. "Come on, time to go."

"Wait, don't you want your pen back?" Lance held his pen out, but Dale and Annie were already speedwalking back down the hall. Leaning out of the room, he saw what made them run: Iverson was marching down the hall, squinting his left eye even more than usual.

"I hope you didn't tell those cadets anything compromising," Iverson growled, "they haven't decided what to do with you yet."

"They were just bringing me food," Lance sighed. Iverson grunted, and then started to lock the door again, but Lance stopped him. "Sir, I was just wondering... when can I resume classes at the Garrison?"

"Resume classes?" Iverson laughed, "we filled your spot a month after you went missing. There's too high a demand for good pilots."

"But you've got to let me back in! I probably know way more than the rest of your students by now--just look at that pod I came back in! I flew that back here, to Earth!"

"Crashed it, more by the looks of it," Iverson rolled his good eye, "your stories of flying lions certainly sound fantastic, but I know you haven't changed. You're still the lousy pilot you were when you were at the bottom of your class."

"I've gotten better. Let me prove it to you."

This only made Iverson laugh more. "Did you really think you would ever graduate as a pilot from the Garrison? We only allow the best of the best. And cadet, you're not one of them."

"What are you talking about?"

"Before you disappeared, the instructors were planning on putting you on academic probation. You failed too many simulators.Too many talented candidates were vying for your spot."

"This is the first I'm hearing of this," Lance said.

"Sorry kid, you don't have what it takes. Not a lot of people do." Iverson started to shut the door. "See you in the morning."

The door shut with an echoing slam, and now that the sun was gone, the room was dark and cold.