Caffeine and Magix

“So the wires…touched?” the man with the most bits of metal on his uniform says. He raises nearly non-existent eyebrows at you. “They just…touched.”

You think you might want to kill him. “Yes,” you say. “And then the siren started going.”

The military brass all mutter among themselves, most of them still glaring. You don’t know why you have to explain a simple circuit to them–you’ve already given the all clear.

“I don’t buy it,” the woman with the second most bits of metal on her uniform says. She looks at the man with the most – you feel like you should really start learning about ranks or paying attention or something – and says, “This close to the deadline? I don’t believe this is a coincidence, Colonel.”

“Neither do I, Major,” the Colonel says. He rubs his chin. “It’s those damned–” his eyes slide to you and then away “–those hostiles. You know the ones.”

The Major looks at you just as suspiciously. “Yes…I do.”

“Look,” you say, “No one did this. The guy who wired this base did a shit job. Nothing’s secured, nothing’s organized, and I think they skimped on materials. It was an accident. That’s it.”

The Colonel swells. “And what? You decided to evacuate the base because of an accident.”

You try to keep from screaming. “As I told you before, I am not in charge of safety protocols. I’m just here to tell you that it was an accident. Not a melt down, not opposing forces, nada.”

“A likely story,” the Major murmurs. “Sir, permission to activate Foxfire-Delta?”

The Colonel stares at you as if waiting for you to break. When all you do is stare back, he nods briskly. “By the top of the hour, Major.”

She hurries away, barking orders to the evacuated personnel. The Colonel stays right in front of you, arms crossed.

“If I find out you’re lying,” the Colonel growls, “you’d best believe that you can kiss your civilian contract goodbye.”

“After this, you might be the one doing the kissing,” you say. You did not go to MIT for this shit.  “The one kissing goodbye. Because I’m going to quit.”

The Colonel’s eyes narrow. “You’re on a four year contract.”

You had forgotten about that. You glare right back at him. “I know. So if I were you, Colonel, I’d look into tripling my budget, huh? Think about that when your stupid plan turns out to be unnecessary.” You turn on your heel and stalk back to your team who are looking pale and worried a little ways away. When you look over your shoulder, you see the Colonel looking thoughtful before turning away.

“Alright,” you say when the Colonel is out of earshot. “The good news is that I think I just got us enough funding to fix this garbage dump.”

Your underlings perk up, excited. They’ve been on base longer than you and are more than ready for an upgrade.

“What’s the bad news?” Oscar asks. He and his accomplice, Pearl, are looking very apprehensive.

Good.

You grin at him, baring your teeth. “The bad news is that you two are getting a promotion. You’re my personal assistants and any and all communications from the higher ups are going to go through you.”

Oscar looks like he’s heading to the gallows. Pearl jerks indignantly. “That’s not fair! We were just trying to cut down on time waste–”

“–by installing a clapper,” you snap at her. You fold your arms. “And look how well that turned out.”

All of eight of them turn to look at the military personnel grudgingly gearing up to storm their own base.

“But, like,” Oscar says, “a really fancy clapper.”

“It was calibrated to a very specific vibration,” Pearl complains. “How were we supposed to know it was Bronte’s ringtone?”

“Because I haven’t changed it in six months?” Bronte suggests. She looks pissed. “I swear to god if this falls back on me…” She trails off menacingly.

“It won’t,” you assure her. You pause. “Though I am curious to know why you have what I assume to be discordant screaming as your ringtone.”

“It’s my mother’s ringtone,” Bronte tells you.

“O-kay,” you say. You decide not to ask any more questions. “Game plan–we keep this quiet. No leaks, no casual mentions, nothing. Got it?”

“But why?” Bronte asks. “They’d be the ones getting fired, not us.”

Pearl and Oscar gulp. “Out of the good of your heart?” Oscar suggests.

You can’t help it. You laugh. “Oh fuck no. It’s so you two morons stick around long enough for us to properly punish you.”

They don’t seem reassured.

Good.