Lost In Transit (EN) (P:A)

MISSING RECIPIENT

Farret nodded, with a 3 minute delay, before cutting the link. The female protogen stood up in front of her desk. She swiftly, but carefully moved her chair away from herself before heading towards the wardrobe, which was next to her shrine, opening it, finding herself in front of various copies of the an outfit on her hangers, a dark green skirt, and a light green tank top styled shirt made out of wool. She gently grasped the last one only to close the wardrobe, and backed away from it next to her bed, which was wall mounted similarly to capsule hotel beds. The female then began dressing herself.

She thought about the whole ordeal. It would be one of the first times she'd be getting down to Earth in a while. She'd quickly put on her wool top, before carefully pulling up her skirt up her waist, and securing it to her body, she picked a black beret that was set on her bed and put it on before preparing herself to leave her room by stepping towards the sliding door, pressing a sequence of 6 digits in the buttons on it's panel causing the door to slide open.

Outside, she took a moment to look back, thinking about the things she would have to take with her, before she took the left side of her room, and began strolling through the narrow corridor of the station.

It wasn't as narrow as to allow only one person or humanoid like her, but about three if squeezing together. The walls were curved, white, sterile save for the occasional room door, maintenance access panel and emergency oxygen compartment, or warning sign.

Finally, the female reached the one suite she was looking for, "Room 902". To avoid coming off as arrogant, she pressed a doorbell button before allowing herself to enter. It emitted a playful but overly synthetic jingle.

The sliding door opened, projecting into the protogen's view its interior, if one could make sense of it. Unlike her room, which was tidy and darkened to allow meditation, this looked like a dentist's office which had been hastily assembled and kept the same over the span of years.

She saw the man in his sixties sitting in front of his desk in a rotating office chair, his computer turned off, he was examining something. He seemed to be wearing some sort of white lab coat with the word "Researcher" printed in a faded black embroidery onto it, in a font that seemed so out of date it's last use was back in the 60's.

She couldn't see his face as she was behind him, but she noticed he was using a pair of round glasses.

His voice, the same which had been responding to Farret and Bargues on their hotline, would say to the female from over his place. "Come in Zaz."

And so she came stepping, and stood next to him, specifically on his desk's right side, before reacting to his speech. "I prefer my full name Doctor."

"Ah, right Zazda." He said, turning his rotating chair to her direction before taking off his glasses. "What's on your mind today? Gonna put me on the G exercises with the girls in the lower ward? Heh."

Zazda couldn't look less surprised at what he said, but she felt unfazed as he was getting older and older, and perhaps his sense of humor was doing so too. "I'm afraid, my directive as your caretaker has been made redundant now."

"Huh. Has it?" He asked, paying attention to her.

"We have been recalled. Something about your surface specimen." Zazda replied objectively before specifying. "Compromised. May require your professional attention in neural surgeries. That's is as much as I can say. You know how the Air Force isn't exactly known for it's descriptive vocabulary." She added before finishing her sentence.

"Guh. Damn it." The old doctor said. "I'll be packing up, don't worry. You handle transport?" The physician added.

"I'll attempt getting ourselves into a connection flight directly to Anchorage. I'll study what I can do about the security pass." Zazda replied.