Keaton sat up slowly, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes.  Places were starting today, but for him, it was his second.  The one that he should've had, had he not been so good with second form.  Moving his arm to the front of his face, he squinted at the glow emanating from his watch.  7:53, it read, causing him to shake his head in silent mirth. Wow. Running a hand through his already mussed hair, Keaton stood, looking over to the other set of bunks where his friends lay quietly, peacefully.

Not for long. Keaton smirked. As silently as possible, he changed to second form, and released a loud roar. Not unlike what happened on the day of the Test, both Rette and Dare flew out of their bunks.  She screamed as she flew up, hitting her head on the bottom of Dare's bed.  He hit the floor, face first...again. 

Before they could look past their shock, Keaton changed back to first form, hopping into bed, under the covers, and into a "deep sleep." He fought to keep his breathing even when his friends started blaming each other.

"I can't believe you!" Dare boomed. "Was the first time not enough?" He had gotten to his feet, anger brewing towards Rette.

"Me?" she asked, incredulous. "You're crazy! I didn't do this. It was you." She held up a hand as he started to protest. "Don't even try to say it wasn't. You're just getting back at me for what happened on Testing day! Don't play innocent!"

"What in the bloody hell are you talking about, Waar? I wouldn't do this to a friend. But someone else would," he seethed.

"Yeah, but it wasn't-" Suddenly, her eyes flicked to Keaton whose shoulders were trembling as he tried to keep his laughter in. "Keaton Laro Sailor! You are terrible!"  Upon being caught, he flopped to his back, his raucous chuckles drowned out by the others' cries, and incessant whines.

"Why?"

"I really wanted a good sleep before having to go to my Place."

"Didn't Rette say the other day that we mature two years faster?  I don't think that goes for Mr Sailor here."

"This was cruel.  I'd never do that to you!"  And then they turned on each other once more.

"But you would do it to me?!"

"Okay!  That was one time!"

"Yeah but you'd love to do it again!"

"Maybe that's true-"

"See?  The thought means it's been more than one time."

"I can't believe you.  Your skull is so thick!"

"What's that supposed to mean?  Are you calling me fat?  I've been working out for ages!"

"You're so dull!"

"Well, I'm brighter than you!"

"What is that even supposed to mean?!"

"Gosh, you're just so bloody aggravating!"

"Likewise!"

A great start to a great day.

Too bad it was only going to get better. 

•

They were still a bit mad at each other as they made their way to Squad 17's training room. Dare was being terribly childish, she decided. He crossed his arms, chin up, looking away from her slightly. "I don't know if I can ever speak to you again."

"Sorry to disappoint, but you just spoke to me," Rette responded calmly. "Ten words, I believe. Or was it more?" She turned her head, surveying when he glanced at her through his lashes.

"No, it was ele-" Realizing he had been tricked, Dare harrumphed, again staring straight at the wall to his left. "Sometimes I think I hate you."

"That's impossible. You want to know why?" she said, not waiting for a response. "Because you love me."

Stop.

Pause.

Halt.

A hitch. Hiatus. A lapse in time.

Everything

just

stopped.

His breath caught in his throat, whatever words he had been about to say ramming into his teeth. Her eyes widened, chastising herself for talking of something so important in such a flippant matter. She didn't love him, but she thought she might be close, and didn't even want to think of what was happening in his head. A joke was unacceptable. Red rose in his cheeks, mirroring hers, and the two of them felt so stupid. Rette, more so, for bringing up the topic that had literally rendered every clock in the entire world utterly useless.

But then he spoke, breaking their time bubble, allowing voices to flow into their eardrums. "Um, how do you, uh, think Keaton is doing?" He brought his left hand up to scratch his ear, leaving a sort of barrier between them.

Rette wasn't sure if she wanted to call him out for the abrupt change in subject - if you could even call it a subject; it had been merely a few words. Caving, she answered, fearful of the answers looming ahead, if she said the phrase again. "He's probably just... doing the basics... You know... Hacking... and stuff. Hopefully, he's, uh, doing... well."

"Yeah."

"Right."

•

"Get her on the phone, now! Or it'll be your neck on the line!" Dr Nix Fallow carried a thunderstorm in his back pocket, unleashing it every time he stopped to speak. The whole of Shaw was panicked. Panicked: a word so unfamiliar, barely used in any of the workers' personal dictionaries. But anyone who knew anything about their little problem probably felt the rawest form of this particular emotion. The young man he had spoken to had whitened, fear surrounding him like a cloud. His voice sounded feeble, and it shook like the houses during the terrible quakes so many generations had suffered through before the war changed everything.

"Sir, I-I don't t-think she-she's available. M-m-meeting, they s-said."

"I don't care if you have to get her out of a conference with the Risen. Just send her to my office, immediately."

Nix felt the anger radiating off of him in waves, inflicting either fear or a spark of his own in his coworkers. The office, for the first time since he stepped up to fill his current position, was positively frantic.  But as of now, it wasn't a problem.  They needed to be hurrying.  They needed to be finding a solution.  They needed to crawl out of their compromising position. 

Suddenly, a red haired girl of twenty-five was rushing towards him.  "Oralie," her name flew from his breath.  "Any progress?"  Hope tried to climb into his brain, nestle there, possibly start a family of stronger hope, but he had to terminate it. 

Hope was something for fools.  Fools who held onto the past, looking out instead of in.  Fools who always came down, ending off a thousand times worse than how they started. 

Hope could only be identified as a weakness in the purest form. 

The assistant gave a quick shake of the head.  Had he been hopeful... "The subject is..." She seemed to consider her next words very carefully.  "Well, trust me when I say that things aren't going well. 

"That's what I thought," he spat.  "Why?  How is this happening?  It shouldn't be possible."

"I don't know, sir.  It mutated somehow."

"And no one knows why?"  He fidgeted with the edge of his jacket sleeve.  No one could see their leader faltering.  Their ship would fall fast. 

"I'm sorry to say no.  But we are waiting on Dr Lles to meet with us, as you know."  Nix had to clench his teeth to keep from sighing in frustration.  The person he trusted most with his program was filled to the brim with hope.  A devilish thing that every optimist relied on.

Just great, he thought. 

•

Keaton sat at his desk, ears filled with the sounds of frantic typing. He tried to tune them out, choosing to focus on his own work. Which, right this instant, wasn't very interesting.

Just simple codes to break some fake firewalls. Did they think we were children? Keaton asked himself. If I taught a five-year-old how to read, they'd be done with this test in a half hour. Keaton had finished in ten, and they just threw another at him. And when he finished that twelve minutes later, they gave him one more. He was done, but made a small "mistake" to keep from having to do another menial task.

But a warning flew across his screen, causing his heart to race and breathing to quicken. The shock subsided quickly, and he took a look to see if anyone of the other subjects had received it. No one, from what he could tell.

What the hell does that mean?

Keaton fixed the mistake, sending it off with shaking fingers. He logged out without a word, pulling out of his seat and to Command, who was already heading for him.

"Sailor," he said under his breath. "How do you take your tea?" A hint of worry rested in his tone, causing his brow to furrow. The question was known by anyone with power - and of course, Squad 13. To make sure only the right people knew of the existence, there was a generic response for the members.

"Chamomile. Only a hint of sugar." There was a small tinge of relief, and Command led him over to a darkened hallway, lit only by red lights underneath the floor panels. They were alone.

"Something's happened." Way to jump right into things. This was strange for Keaton. Anyone with power didn't allow their flustering to be seen in the public eye. Command paced the floor, wall to wall. His head shook infinitesimally. His nerves made Keaton want to reciprocate the feeling.

"What do you mean?" It seemed as though the boy with no experience was in control of the situation now, if it all was based on their levels of calm. But he couldn't help the dread seeping into his pores.

"13 has a problem to solve."