Saarlan

Tess and Rip had certainly shared a fair number of intimacies, but this one so far was the strangest. It wasn’t that he lover had nearly suffocated her with her bare chest in an attempt to reach her glasses, her communicative glasses one had to add, but the fact that she got a call at dawn from some man and found the necessity to talk in a distorted way. Tess watched this call take place with furrowed brows, wondering what exactly was going on and why she was so far out of the loop. What the hell were they even talking about? “Schiffkundschaften?” “Oracle System?” O.T.O.S. Scan, Vector, Black Stuff, IFF Tags? Was all of this to do with Rip’s role in the government of this planet? Tess pried herself from the bed, not sure if she was more exasperated that strangers were heading towards their private sanctuary without being consulted first, or the fact that they hadn’t a chance to sleep prior to these strangers arriving.


Before Rip had even ended a call, Tess began getting dressed in the nearly dry clothes from the night before. She then stomped over to the hotel’s intercom, the one that was their private line for the staff to heed their very whims (such as this), and impatiently hit the button until a trepidatious voice quivered, “Yes, Ma’am?” “Listen. I’m fully aware of what time it is. This is an emergency and I need a bottle of whiskey. Now. Bourbon, preferably. Extra tip if it comes up here in the next five minutes.” There was an extended period of silence on the other side of the intercom.“Uhm… If I’m not mistaken Ma’am, but I believe it was you who said that no alcohol was to be brought to your room a few months ago. You were very… persuasive with your selection of words and phrasings.” Tess made a bellowing noise akin to a growl. Goddamn Tez. “I’ve changed my mind,” she said through gritted teeth. “There will be hell to pay if I have to come down there myself.” The man muttered a rushed apology and said he would acquiesce in several moments, and before the call had ended Tess heard several bottles fall from whatever shelf they were on.


True to his word, the porter arrived in four point seven minutes with not one, but two bottles of bourbon whiskey, compliments of the hotel. Before Tess had a chance to attempt an apology or even leave him a tip, he rushed off. She cracked open the bottle after placing the second one in the freezer and took a hearty swig of the amber liquid. Despite being smooth and flavorful, it still caused her to shiver a bit. By this time, Rip had wrapped up the call, and was assumingly looking around the room to see what became of Tess. She walked over to the foot of their bed and glared. “Who the hell was that?” she asked ungraciously, the jealousy hardly masked in her voice. “Why is a man calling you at dawn? I didn’t even know your glasses were a transponder! You have a secret communication device that you never even told me about, but this stranger has this number? Worse yet, you invited him here? To our home, without even asking me first? And what is going on? What were all those names things things you just said? And why were you talking like that? Your voice sounded so funky! And would you like some whiskey? I kind of scared the guy downstairs and I feel really bad about it. Look, I don’t want to ruin the evening, er, morning, but it looks like we’re going to be awake all day dealing with whoever is coming so you might as well get dressed and have a drink with me." Tess couldn't help but sigh, feeling embarrassed at her outburst. "Please just tell me what’s going on.There's just so much I don't know about you.” 

Like all the other people in the galaxy, Tess had to realize, with some difficulty, the most basic fact one has to when becoming romantically involved with anyone: this person, though they are your lover, had a life before you. This person had lived a good portion of their life, had innumerable experiences, overcame difficult obstacles and even smiled before knowing who you were. To put it frankly, Tess felt like an ass for getting worked up in this way. It wasn’t fair to Rip, nor was it fair to herself. Was it not true? Did she not also live a life of her own; one Rip would never see or have access to? Did she not also have to work out things in her life, on her own terms, without the knowledge of the one she holds dear? Her lover’s world was not her own, nor was she the only star in it. Likewise, Tess begrudgingly accepted that everything would be revealed in its own time. Rip couldn’t just be forthcoming with information such as this; it would have to come up on its own, if it was necessary to come up at all. Plus there was the whole diplomat-esque thing…

“Alright, alright,” Tess uttered in defeat. “Forgive my relapse in judgment. You know I get worked up easily. I’m sorry. Not everything revolves around me, I get it. You have your things to deal with, I have mine. It’s egotistical to think that I have a right in every aspect that is your life. There is so much I don’t know, can’t know, will never know. In time, we’ll know everything that needs to be known between us, won’t we? We can get in to the more savory details later. Honestly Rip, I’m just grateful you have let me this close in to begin with. Heh, I’m grateful you didn’t just shoot me in town that day with those jerks. What were their names? Mark and Helga? I don’t even remember. I do remember the back of their heads as they ran away from you, though. Ha!” Tess pushed her chair back and motioned for Rip to come closer.

At that exact moment, Rip’s glasses began to glow. “Does that mean you have a call?” Tess asked. Her shoulders slumped slightly, but she smiled anyway. “I understand now. Don’t worry, do what you have to.”

A string of unintelligible sounds and half-words hardly spilled out of Tess' mouth as a response to the lung crushing hug her lover had given her as well as to the request that she had made. Under normal circumstances Tess would have questioned the origins of such erratic behavior, but there was no time at the present moment. Tess' eyes went from the glasses, to the bathroom door in the process of swinging shut, and landed back on the glasses. They continued to glow while giving off such minute chirping noises, one would have thought a sparrow had somehow entered the lush hotel room and hid amongst one of the light fixtures. The stripe-shirted woman cautiously walked to the nightstand where the object in question sit, too aware that she might not like what she could hear or see on the receiving side of this transmission. She picked them up trepidatiously by the left earpiece, noticing the words scrolling up the lenses from inside. She held them up betwixt her thumb and pointer finger, squinting, all the while trying to figure out what to do next. Tess put them on, but immediately ripped them off her face, almost dropping them in the process- she knew Rip was blind, but she didn't know she was this blind! Geez-a-loo, how could she have a conversation and read the incomimg data if everything was swirling and causing nausea even before her second glass of whiskey? Clearing her throat, she held the spectacles at arms length and peered in from afar. She pressed down on a piece that jutted out a bit on the endpiece.

"Hello? Geez, finally, Treblinka! I've been calling for hours! Has something happened?"

There he was, the man that had called earlier. Tess refrained from speaking out something she would regret later, so she kept the conversation as basic as possible. "Uh, negative, negative," she responded, thinking she could get into the swing of military jargon. "I'm fine, we're all fine here now, thank you. How are you?"

There was silence on the other end for several seconds. 

"This isn't Treblinka. Who is this? Tell me what you have done with her before I hunt you down and kill you barefisted. Are you with them? Answer me, now!"

"Take it easy, soldier," Tess said contemptuously, feeling the familiar bubble of anger growing in her chest. "Treblink-ah is currently disposed of, and I'm filling in as her proxy. Disrespect me, and you'll have to deal with her. It won't be an easy life without your thumbs." Tess felt a slick sense of gratification channeling her rage-a-holic sister and power hungry significant other- no wonder Rip loved her title! A muffled apology was heard over the sound of the clicks of heels on cobblestones. They were very close. Tess relayed the exact address of the hotel, instructing them to take the lift to the very top floor. She wasn't sure how many people were with him, but told him that they had the clearance to bypass hotel security. She made up some code word, and immediately after call she rung the security post and repeated the same thing, as per Major Shepardt's instructions. She poured herself another glass of breakfast whiskey and made her way to the bathroom. She opened the door and called in, "Rip, we're gonna have company!"

Not knowing what to expect coming in to their private sanctuary, Tess removed herself from the dining area’s table, whiskey in hand. She pushed in her seat, stuck the bottle of amber sustenance into the freezer and meandered towards her lover with the terrifying grin. She watched as Rip dragged the antique desk chair from its place by the bay windows towards the middle of the living area’s walk way, and added a snarky “I don’t think that’s good for its legs.” Her remark went unheard as Rip began positioning herself in the most menacing way she could think of, after having also dragged the sleeping area’s miniature (antique as well, of course) table to her side. The long strands of dripping wet raven colored hair were the least menacing part about this spectacle, Tess thought to herself, but who was she to contest the subjective ideals of terror.

As Tess walked past Rip unnoticed, who was fiddling with some sort of writing utensil and data pad, she heard the sounds of approaching footsteps. She paused, standing right by the leather upholstered sofa next to where Rip was sitting, and turned her head towards the door. Rip seemed content and unfazed by this entire scenario, whilst Tess couldn’t shake the all-too cliché and hyperbolic feeling of impending doom. Maybe it was the alcohol affecting her, since it was still only dawn, but she couldn’t quite describe what she was feeling, either to herself or out loud. She did know, however, that death seemed to be lurking in this very room, at this very moment, like a thick and humid fog bank. Was what she was feeling, like a cold hand gripping her heart, intuition or even foreshadowing of the events to come with these people? She suddenly became frightened and apprehensive, wishing that she was anywhere else but in this room. “Rip,” she said in a half-whisper, “I have a bad feeling about this.” Rip craned her neck backwards and replied with a grin larger than Tess had ever seen before in her life.

***

Helge maintained her exuding sense of stoicism with minimal effort as she walked beside Karl. As their journey continued onwards she felt a greater separation from her emotions with each passing hour. How useful were emotions anyway when the host was already physically dead? They were nothing more than energy fueling saccharine sentiments in journals and for people deluded by the real world. “Hindrances and disappointments,” Helge had mentally resolved on the lift in Saarlan’s solitary posh hotel. It was an awkward ride in the lift; their traveling companions stayed in the lobby as security detail while she and Karl went up to Treblinka’s room on their own. No words were exchanged between them, nor did their glances stray beyond a singular focal point. Helge stood perfectly still, her eyes on the penthouse floor’s call button, as Karl shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the next, transponder clutched in his fist. She vaguely wondered if he was feeling nervous or even guilty. Then she realized that it didn’t concern her.

The former romantically inclined couple waited until the lift’s doors fully opened before stepping foot on the crimson carpet. It wasn’t hard to discern which room was the one in question: there was only one door on the floor, and the hall led directly towards it. It was slightly ajar and from it there was a beam of early morning sun light, giving them the impression of possible optimism. Helge thought of this irony, but didn’t dwindle on it for long. They walked to the door, Karl being in the lead, and he stopped right before he pushed the door. It looked as if he had something to say, but fought against it at the last possible moment. Helge said nothing as she watched Karl enter the suite, scan the room, reach for his pistol at the sight of the two women inside (most likely sexually connected, she surmised, by the minute scent of sweat and intimate fluids) and stood staring at the seated toothy woman with a device above her head. The other woman stood beside her (with the scent of alcohol and spiked stress levels, Helge also detected) and moved away from the couch at her possible lover’s command and motioned towards closing the front door. Karl and Helge entered the room and went straight towards the living area and took their seat on said couch. Helge sat on the far end, towards the windows, whilst Karl sat on the other, closest to his informant. Why the hostility if they have been in contact for years? She assumed she’d find out soon enough.

The eyes of the "Other Women" locked upon hearing their names being said aloud by other person's partner. Though they shared the sentiment of disliking being spoken about as if not in the room while obviously present, there was still some chagrin being passed between them due to the past history of their, for lack of a better term, for Helge anyway, lovers. Under different circumstances, Tess and Helge most likely would never have met in their lifetimes. Well, they may have if Helge's restaurant did as well as she had hoped, and Tess and Rip happened to hear a wonderful and perhaps even fear-filled review from one of the concierges at their illustrious hotel-home. Rip and Tess would have loved to check out the planet's capital, striking fear in the hearts of all in the large city, smiling and murmuring their arduous sentiments of pleasure and rogueishness. However, the point has far been surpassed of this scenario's plausibilty, since not only is the co-owner of the establishment technically dead, but parts of Corvala are in shambles and over run with monsters. These thoughts never could, never would pass through their minds, and as such, nothing could be done about it, at the disappointment of no one. The restaurant was the farthest thing from Helge's mind, as well as any extra-curricular excursions were from Tess'. The women continued to size the other up, mentally preparing contingency plans involving their respective partners. While in this state of hatred in solidarity, the comments about them went by seemingly unnoticed until certain terms drew away an ounce of their attention. 

"Fiancée?" They both seemed to murmer turning their heads toward Rip, only heard by each other. They listened to the rest of the conversation, obviously noting the power and control the bespectacled woman had in it. Karl seemed to blanch a bit, which was a bit of a feat to notice as his pallor was already significantally lighter than it normally used to be, and Helge felt some of her courage falter slightly. "We came all this way," she thought to herself, "and he's still a coward. The old Karl would have---" She paused that sentence in her head, realizing the fallacy of making such claims. She looked back at the auburn haired woman who was finishing the last drops of her too-early cocktail, and saw the lopsided grin she had painted across her face. Helge then felt swept by a white-hot rage; the alcohol wasn't the source of this woman's smile. Her side was that of the victors' and she knew it. She was priding in it! Helge gritted her teeth and looked sharply away. She felt Tess still glancing, but no longer cared or desired to flaunt anything that was unsavory and untrue.

"Karl," she resumed thinking, but in a different light. "If we survive this ordeal, remind me to kill you myself."