Gone & Missing

[Toaster]

From within a small hangar emanated the busy sounds of a metal striking metal, power tools whirring excitedly, and the occasional muffled curse escaping its sole human occupant. Outside, the ceaseless drone of Stanton’s city-life continued. The neighboring hangars and warehouses had fallen silent as night fell across the metropolis and their workers had left for home.

Within the lone garage stood a large, blocky craft, its three massive engine nacelles taking up most of the space. Its bright white hull shone a dull gold as it reflected the light of half a dozen spotlights illuminating it and the floor around it.

“Sir,” Victor’s voice came from the ship’s open cockpit canopy. “We have just received a message from Director Nazumaki.”

From beneath the Osprey’s fuselage rolled out a lean man, his rolled-up shirt sleeves stained with oil, his short, blond hair a sticky mess. Wiping a spill of oil from his forehead with a cloth rag tucked into his shirt collar, the figure jumped to his feet, haphazardly tossed aside the wrench he had been working with and glanced up at the cockpit.

“Yeah? What’re the news?”

There was a moment’s hesitation.

“They are not good, Mister Beige.” Even for an AI, Victor sounded concerned. Beige huffed irritatedly and climbed up the short ladder into the Inspiration’s cockpit. Settling into the pilot’s chair, he brought up the communications panel and read through the Marshals director’s message.

“‘Neural net address no longer in service,’” Beige muttered out loud. Victor was right, this news did not bode well at all. The retired mercenary slumped back into his seat, folding his hands behind his head. He sat there for a few moments, seemingly lost in thought. Before him, a small orb of orange light appeared above the dashboard, pulsating slowly.

“Sir?” The orb bounced as Victor spoke. “Are we going to search for Miss Sable?”

Beige had been hoping that their worries would prove to be unfounded, that his old friend had simply forgotten to keep in touch while away on one of her sector-spanning trips. Now, however, that hope was dashed. Something was wrong with Olivia Sable and he needed to find her and help out. Beige glanced at the small, holographic sphere and gave it a cunning grin.

“We sure are! Run the pre-flight checks!”

With that, he leapt out of the seat and back down the ladder rungs, jogging over to a nearby table covered in tools and spare parts. From underneath it, he recovered a large duffle bag. Kneeling down before it, he undid the zipper and checked its contents. A spare trenchcoat, several cans of food and water, a smattering of various handguns and appropriate ammo packs. He flung the bag over his shoulder and ascended back into the ship, tossing it into the spacious cockpit’s back.

Dropping again into the pilot’s seat, he flicked a few switches, bringing the main reactor online and closing the canopy with a pressurizing hiss. The ship shuddered as the engines ignited, their wakes tossing over several of the hangar’s spotlights with gusts of hot wind.

“Good to go?” Beige asked over the rumble of the drives, an excited glint in his eyes. Victor’s holographic shape bobbed up and down for a moment as he completed the system checks.

“Yes, sir. Ready to go.”

---

Olivia Sable