"Good morning, Captain Malick!"
"Mhm-hm."
"Mission ready, Captain?"
"Always."
"Hey, Cap! The wife made you a cake, I left it in your locker. She says you really helped, whatever that means. Women, right?"
"Right," Ethan turned to...whoever this guy was with a grin, "Glad to hear it..."
"Perkins," he offered helpfully.
"Perkins! Perky Perkins. 'Course. You tell the wife it was a pleasure."
He remembered the Lady Perkins well enough, (if anything, SHE was the perky one) even if he had trouble recalling the exact circumstances surrounding that Friday...or was it Saturday?...night?
Perkins nodded, "Good luck on the other side, Cap. I hear Brass's got a doozy lined up for you."
"Nothing I can't handle, man."
"Well, of course, but...well, I mean..." he finished, somewhat lamely, "Good luck?"
Ethan just nodded, all but thinking to himself that he would't need luck, anyway.
---
"Field Log 1. This is Sebastian Leach, Horizon Alpha Team Head of Research. The date is November 11th, 2027. It is Horizon Mission Day 0..."
"Day 0?"
Seb let out a short cry, lowering the handheld recorder and whirling around to behold the lazily smirking figure of Dex slumping over in the swivel chair halfway across the locker room from him.
"Shouldn't it be Day 1?"
"We...we haven't left yet, so..." Seb cleared his throat, feeling his face start to heat up, "So...well, the idea is, we start counting once we ARE somewhere..."
"Oh..." he nodded, a contemplative look on his face, "So if we're nowhere yet, what's the whole Day 0 for anyway? Like, what are you TELLING the thing?"
"Well...I mean..."
"It's not a diary, man," Dex shrugged, "I mean, it COULD be, but what's the point?"
"I really..." he shrugged, "It was supposed to be a sound check. Just...to see if it worked."
Dex sat up a little straighter, "You don't think MY design works?"
Seb got all stammery again, "Well, no. I mean, I have no reason to doubt... I was just..."
"S'okay," he shrugged, "I'm not sure how good it works either," he pushed a paper plate across the table to him, "Hey, want some cake? I found it in the locker, just sitting there."
"You...you took someone else's cake?"
Dex shrugged, taking a big bite for himself "Dude, we're gonna be a coupla TIMELINES away from this place by tonight. Who the hell's gonna check us?"
---
Teddy checked his face once, twice i the mirror, adjusting the passkey on his collar, just for the sake of uniformity. Not that uniform was a very big deal at Horizon, but still...Old habits die hard.
He nodded in a cursory fashion to certain colleagues as he left the men's room and made his way to the hydraulic escalator. Massive waste of money if you asked him. It produced less pollution than the average escalator, but that didn't make much of a difference when this building ran on enough nuclear fission to reduce several neighboring counties to Chernobyl.
Teddy enjoyed the job well enough, but Horizon was nothing if not disingenuous. Then again, the military had been much the same. Increasingly, there was less and less difference. He'd wish for simpler time, if he could believe that such a thing had ever truly existed.
"Morning, Major Harkness," the guard on duty nodded a greeting.
Teddy nodded a response, flashing his I.D card, but the guard waved him off, "I know who you are, Major."
"You can ever be too careful," he smiled thinly. The guard allowed a polite laugh, but Teddy suspected he thought him a bit silly. Never mind.
He was admitted to the office, a spacious room decorated in the newest fashion: a blend of Art Deco and postmodern minimalism that reduced most concepts to blocks and squiggles in various shades of black and beige.
"Ma'am," he nodded.
The upright, dignified older woman behind the desk nodded curtly, "Major. Early as always."
Bernadette Bingham, affectionately (or not) referred to as Old BrassAss, was, if nothing else, the most competent commanding officer Teddy had ever served under, even if she was an executive in the fine print. She ran Horizon like a Swiss clock, and was rumored to never even leave this building. Or even to sleep, eat, drink and, as the less polite gossip would have it...'fraternize' with other humans in any meaningful capacity.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to hold on the briefing until the others are here. I do loathe repeating myself."
"Entirely understandable, ma'am."
He got the impression she appreciated someone agreeing with her easily. Lord knows she didn't get much of THAT around here.
They did not have to wait long before the second (though, technically, first) of their party arrived.
---
"How you doing, Bernie?" Ethan strode into the office, giving his favorite silver-haired battleaxe a nod in greeting.
"Better without the nickname, Captain." she smiled thinly, but showed no other sign of distaste.
Ethan did appreciate the feeling of sliding by. He suspected Bingham really appreciated him, even if she couldn't jeopardize her pride enough to admit it.
"Captain Malick," the big black guy standing by the desk extended a hand to shake, "Thaddeus Harkness, field manager."
Ethan looked him up and down, taking his hand and trying not to get too startled at the forcefulness of Harkness's handshake.
"No kidding," he smirked, "Yeah, I think I've seen you around. You're ex Special Forces?"
"16 years, sir, U.S Marine Corps."
His expression didn't change as he said that. Ethan nodded, "Gotta love the Marines."
Harkness didn't say anything to that, but Ethan almost imagined his grip on his hand tightened slightly before he let go.
"Major Harkness is our most experienced field operative," said Bingham, "He will be an invaluable asset to your team."
It seemed there was an unspoken, 'So don't fuck this up' bit somewhere in there, but Ethan chose to ignore it. He HAD been made Captain for a reason, and he surely had more field experience than this guy, Marine or no. If Bingham was gonna try to put him in his place NOW, she'd have to try harder.
---
"I'm sorry!" Seb exclaimed, half running/half falling into the office, "I'm not late. Am I?"
He looked at the other three in the office. The tall, dark haired one...he must be Malick, their Captain....made an expression that was either a scoff or a grimace. The big guy...process of elimination demanded he was Harkness, field support....looked him over, either unimpressed or sympathetic. Bingham, for her part, seemed to be holding in multiple sighs at once.
"Dr. Leach, it's only two minutes past 9."
Seb blinked at her, "Well...the meeting was supposed to be at 9:00. I...I'm sorry, I had some trouble getting my notes together. File transfers, you know...or, well, maybe you don't, but ever since we changed database software..."
"You're on time," said Harkness at last.
"A military man getting flexible with deadlines?" Malick cocked an eyebrow, looking back to Seb, "You'd better try to be on top of it when we're on the road, yeah? I run a tight ship."
"Oh...oh, yeah. Of course, sir, I'd never..."
"Sir?" Ethan raised his eyebrows, "I like that."
"Was I...was I not supposed to call you..."
"Well, you are now," Malick turned to Harkness, grinning like 'Look at this guy, huh?' Harkness didn't seem amused.
"Dr. Leach has two PhDs and a fellowship at three universities," said Bingham in a measured voice, "He's the most brilliant mind on my payroll."
"Oh," Malick's smile softened, "Really? Well, that's...wow."
Excellent first impression. Perfect. They'd be sure to take him seriously now. Seb knew the office was cooled by three separate machines, but he could still feel himself melting in his clothes.
"We're waiting on one other," said Bingham.
"Now HE'S late," Malick looked significantly at Seb, as if inviting him into the joke. Seb let out a sickly laugh, but it came out more as a cough.
Maybe he should've just gone without food this morning.
"This...um...this is Dexman, right? Dex Dexman?"
"No need to stutter," said Malick.
"His NAME is Dex Dexman," said Bingham tersely, looking at Seb, "I didn't know you two were acquainted."
"We...we met in the break room," said Seb, "He was..."
---
"'Sup, space skippers?" Dex swaggered into the office, hads in his pockets, tossing his ponytail for the sake of looking badass.
"What did I miss?" he asked, looking around at everybody.
"One or two vaudeville acts transported from the Edwardian Period," Bingham said tersely, retrieving a Kleenex from the motion activated dispenser on the side of her desk and handing it to him.
"Er...thanks, Brassy, you shouldn't have."
She stared at him.
"Um..." Seb tapped the corner of his mouth a couple of times, not making direct eye contact.
Dex reached to the same spot on his own lips and felt the frosting there, "Oh, right," he dabbed at the stain, "Thanks, man," he looked around at the others, "Hey, if anyone needs a pick-me-up before we go, there's THE BEST cake down in the break room. Foiund it in some sap's locker..."
"A cake?" asked the Textbook Action Hero cutout who Dex figured had to be their captain, "In someone's locker?"
"Yeah. One of those yellow fluffy kinds. Dip didn't even bother to wrap it up or anything, I mean he can't be surprised..."
"Can't he be?" Malick cocked an eyebrow.
"Well, I mean..." Dex trailed off, "It's your cake, isn't it?"
"Damn right, it's my cake."
Dex cleared his throat, "Well, I...I didn't finish it. It's like...it's still there. If you want it."
"You like stealing peoples' shit?" asked Malick, "Cause, let me tell you something, the magnitude of space doesn't have room for sticky fingers."
---
Hey, so sometimes, you'll get the opportunity to decide how these guys act! Imagine, getting a man to do as you say. Don't you love escapist fantasy?
So...take your pick. Does this get ugly, or does it get...well, not pretty. But...you know...civil?