SECOND DRAFT: Hard Bank Left

34

Graham woke up in the wee hours of the morning with a kink in his neck. His left arm was completely numb and his back felt like a solid brick of meat. Attempting to sit up he realized why. Krys was laying on his arm. He pushed her off gently and rubbed his shoulder, trying to get his bearings. The two of them had passed out in the green room. Soft pink light filtering in through the many circular windows on the other side of the room. They were no longer moving, probably the reason he woke up.

Balking at the acrid scent of liquor and algae and mild sweat permeated his clothes Graham pushed back his mop of hair and Graham surveyed the room. He found that they had consumed both of his bottles of schnapps (one lavander, one peppermint: Krys's and his favorites respectively), the majority of one bottle of rum and half of another. The whiskey remained untouched, which Krys may or may not be grateful for later considering he had initially gotten it so that she could make hot toddies. The juice was completely empty and overturned. He'd clean up the bottles later, at the moment he had four things on his mind: where were they on the itinerary, getting Krys into her bed, sleep, and relieving himself - not in that order. Bathroom first, then talk to Celeste. He could figure out the rest from there.

Upon entering the pilotry, one thing became abundantly clear, something was not right. Celeste had blackened the windows the instant he walked in. What was she hiding? "Where are we?" He asked Celeste who was frantically trying to do... something. He was too tired to really figure out what she was doing.

"We are supposed to be over the homestead."

"And instead we are...?"

Celeste didn't answer.

He was too grumpy to deal with this. "Celeste?" he asked testily. "Where are we?"

She whimpered like a puppy awaiting punishment and swiped her hand over a touch dial and the dome lost it's opacity. About two hundred feet below them Graham could just make out smoke and what looked like a bombed out hangar. Attached to the hangar it looked like there used to be a little house. All that remained was a collapsed roof and one or two standing supports. All around the complex charred bits of building and wreckage jutted out of the snow, some of it was still smoldering.

"I'm confused," Graham said flatly. "Is this supposed to be...?"

Celeste nodded.

"Go wake up Krys. She's in the green room, and would you clean up while you're at it? I'm going to need a shower and some waking up before I can process this."

Celeste nodded again. As she passed him she took a moment to pause and whisper her apologies. It took a moment to even register that she had said anything, but by the time he had she was already gone. The change of plans threw him through a loop, suddenly he had to actually think that that wasn't helping the sudden headache growing at the base of his skull. Clothes, shower, coffee, Krys might force him to eat so food, then investigate. He already had a pretty good idea of what had happened, but it was best to be sure.

It occurred to him in the shower that it might be a trap more than a warning. It probably wouldn't be best to investigate. So then what? What was he supposed to do? He hadn't put his headset back on since he'd removed it before his bender the night before. He could really use some Grahamly advice right about now.

Once clean and dressed in fresh clothes that did not smell of algae and sweat, he headed back to Krys's room where he'd left the headset only to find Krys there already conferring with his alternate self. She looked up when he entered, seemingly in the middle of taking on important information that she was agreeing with. She approached him, thrusting the headset at him urgently before gathering a fresh set of her own clothes and presumably heading off to shower as he just had.