you.”
I leaned in close to him and whispered, “I fight Lemurians with powers on a near daily basis. What do you think some drunk idiot is really going to do to me?”
Trevor’s eyes grew hard and his jaw set. “That’s not the point and you know it. I’m just worried about you. Tonight and all.”
I walked past him, not stopping until I got to our car. “Don’t be mad because I can handle myself.”
Trevor didn’t say anything.
I needed to find a new bar.
onight was the norm for Chelsea. Maybe if she stopped embracing her misguided badass-ness thanks to her powers and stopped over-compensating for her inability to save SeaSat5, we’d actually make some progress on doing just that.
I cringed at my own words. Harsh, yes, but the truth.
She never let me step in for her during any sort of confrontation because of all that had happened during the hijacking two years ago. That’s not to say Chelsea counted on me from day one to swoop in and save her at the first sign of danger, because that’s not true. She’d made more attempts to save us and herself during the hijacking than I had. Chelsea didn’t need protecting; she needed understanding. But half the time, I didn’t understand her at all. Not anymore. Not since Lemuria had stolen SeaSat5. Maybe I never knew her. The possibility was there, given I’d only met her months before everything went to shit. And I’d spent most of that time lying to her by omission.
Still, you’d think that after two years and everything they contained, I’d have won back some of that trust. Then again, how long did she hold a grudge against that Lexi girl? Long enough that when we ran into her and Chelsea’s ex on the one-year anniversary of SeaSat5 being taken, Chelsea had made a scene. That had been a bad night all around. The “Grand Summer Shit-Show,” as Chelsea preferred to call it.
I ran a hand through my hair as I regained enough focus to work on the 3D rendering of the Waterstar map. I’d come back to my lab after the bar to work, but I wasn’t getting anything done tonight. Not on the anniversary. My lack of focus wasn’t entirely SeaSat5’s fault. This stupid system needed near-constant maintenance, between the archaeologists adding information all the time, and the technology’s young age. If the system were human, it wouldn’t even be teething yet.
But I chugged along, working on it day and night, mostly because I missed working on something,
anything
. I missed having a system to look after or a game to moderate. When Lemuria had stolen SeaSat5, they’d murdered my life’s work with it. Hummingbird had died at the hands of someone I once called a friend, and without the system, my life felt empty. Void not of meaning, but of purpose. Even focusing on finding SeaSat5 wasn’t enough some days. The goal was too vague, too up in the air. Fixing a system was within my grasp, something my fingers and brain could work through and repair.
But the 3D rendering system… I couldn’t keep up with it. The whole “be careful what you wish for” thing.
General Holt, commander of TAO, had us running through, or otherwise examining, so many Link Pieces that when I finally had time to work on the map system, I spent the time doing routine cleanings. Then add another few hours for new Link Pieces. My days were long, and my nights barely existed at all. Maybe it was a good thing I wasn’t social like Chelsea. Unlike her, I couldn’t afford to drink and party nights away, bouncing between TAO and Boston in an instant.
Story of my life, but I didn’t mind. If this database was going to keep up with our exploration and experimentation, someone had to take the hit, and it may as well be me. Chelsea could contribute her strength and abilities to the search for Captain Marks and the crew, but all I had to add were computer skills, which paled in comparison, and it frustrated me to no end. Maintaining this type of database was hard, and all Chelsea saw was a
I leaned in close to him and whispered, “I fight Lemurians with powers on a near daily basis. What do you think some drunk idiot is really going to do to me?”
Trevor’s eyes grew hard and his jaw set. “That’s not the point and you know it. I’m just worried about you. Tonight and all.”
I walked past him, not stopping until I got to our car. “Don’t be mad because I can handle myself.”
Trevor didn’t say anything.
I needed to find a new bar.
onight was the norm for Chelsea. Maybe if she stopped embracing her misguided badass-ness thanks to her powers and stopped over-compensating for her inability to save SeaSat5, we’d actually make some progress on doing just that.
I cringed at my own words. Harsh, yes, but the truth.
She never let me step in for her during any sort of confrontation because of all that had happened during the hijacking two years ago. That’s not to say Chelsea counted on me from day one to swoop in and save her at the first sign of danger, because that’s not true. She’d made more attempts to save us and herself during the hijacking than I had. Chelsea didn’t need protecting; she needed understanding. But half the time, I didn’t understand her at all. Not anymore. Not since Lemuria had stolen SeaSat5. Maybe I never knew her. The possibility was there, given I’d only met her months before everything went to shit. And I’d spent most of that time lying to her by omission.
Still, you’d think that after two years and everything they contained, I’d have won back some of that trust. Then again, how long did she hold a grudge against that Lexi girl? Long enough that when we ran into her and Chelsea’s ex on the one-year anniversary of SeaSat5 being taken, Chelsea had made a scene. That had been a bad night all around. The “Grand Summer Shit-Show,” as Chelsea preferred to call it.
I ran a hand through my hair as I regained enough focus to work on the 3D rendering of the Waterstar map. I’d come back to my lab after the bar to work, but I wasn’t getting anything done tonight. Not on the anniversary. My lack of focus wasn’t entirely SeaSat5’s fault. This stupid system needed near-constant maintenance, between the archaeologists adding information all the time, and the technology’s young age. If the system were human, it wouldn’t even be teething yet.
But I chugged along, working on it day and night, mostly because I missed working on something,
anything
. I missed having a system to look after or a game to moderate. When Lemuria had stolen SeaSat5, they’d murdered my life’s work with it. Hummingbird had died at the hands of someone I once called a friend, and without the system, my life felt empty. Void not of meaning, but of purpose. Even focusing on finding SeaSat5 wasn’t enough some days. The goal was too vague, too up in the air. Fixing a system was within my grasp, something my fingers and brain could work through and repair.
But the 3D rendering system… I couldn’t keep up with it. The whole “be careful what you wish for” thing.
General Holt, commander of TAO, had us running through, or otherwise examining, so many Link Pieces that when I finally had time to work on the map system, I spent the time doing routine cleanings. Then add another few hours for new Link Pieces. My days were long, and my nights barely existed at all. Maybe it was a good thing I wasn’t social like Chelsea. Unlike her, I couldn’t afford to drink and party nights away, bouncing between TAO and Boston in an instant.
Story of my life, but I didn’t mind. If this database was going to keep up with our exploration and experimentation, someone had to take the hit, and it may as well be me. Chelsea could contribute her strength and abilities to the search for Captain Marks and the crew, but all I had to add were computer skills, which paled in comparison, and it frustrated me to no end. Maintaining this type of database was hard, and all Chelsea saw was a
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