Snippets of Memory - The Umbrella Academy

Whispers of the Minerva

He slid his hand along the doorframe, his gaze drifting up toward a wrought-iron decorative sconce. With a satisfied sigh, he slipped his long fingers into it and pulled out a key. Small, black, insignificant. And yet, it sent a greater thrill through me than any of my past 'petty crimes of espionage and sabotage' ever had. He gave a sly half-smile and slid the key into the lock. *Click!* We entered without resistance. Not even breaking in.

Behind the door, a narrow, dim corridor unfurled, its walls covered in faded sepia wallpaper. The only illumination came from service lanterns, designed to flash red and blare alongside an alarm that had long since been silenced. The air was thick, carrying the scent of metal, motor grease, maybe even gasoline. One thing was certain: apart from Pogo, perhaps, no one had passed through here in years.

Klaus slipped inside without hesitation, his fingertips grazing the worn woodwork as he moved forward, just as he had done countless times before. I followed, closing the door behind us, fully aware that I was stepping into a place that very few had ever seen: even among those who had been officially welcomed to Hargreeves Mansion.

We moved deeper into the corridor, nearly engulfed in darkness, my breathing perhaps a little shaky, not from fear, but from excitement. Klaus sensed it: he chuckled as he walked ahead of me and grabbed my wrist. I didn't pull away. I let him. I kept moving forward. And suddenly...

A gust of cold air rushed through the passage. A draft coming from a vast space, into which we emerged before freezing in place.

A hangar. Immense, bathed in the pale glow of the full moon filtering through a massive glass ceiling, suspended within a metal framework. Powerful hydraulic pistons framed this colossal opening: an impressive mechanism capable of unveiling the night sky with a single command.

The floor was scattered with transport crates, revealing equipment whose purpose was unknown to me. Tools lay in disarray, alongside fuel tanks and harnesses. But that wasn't the most striking sight. At the center of the hangar, like a great steel and glass bird, sat a strange, massive aircraft: one that I instinctively wanted to call a spaceship. Its short, angular wings were folded, yet its dormant engines seeming to hum in my chest.

I felt drawn to it, more than I ever had to any human being. I glanced at Klaus and saw the glint of memories in his eyes. And then I asked:

"Can I get closer?"
He nodded, smiling. And as if introducing a mythical beast, he said:
"Her name is Minerva."

I think I stood there, stunned, even upon hearing the name. And for the first time, I felt a strange, unsettling admiration for Reginald Hargreeves. And I can swear to you, it has long since passed.

"Minerva... Like the goddess of war?"
"Of military strategy", Klaus corrected, having been forced to study mythology in exhaustive detail. "For Dad, that made all the difference. He saw her as the balance between war and wisdom."

Today, I think I could break that man's teeth for daring to believe he was worthy of that balance. But in that moment, under the moonlight seeping through the glass ceiling designed to open and let this vessel rise into the sky, I felt a troubling fascination, one I immediately wanted to suppress.

It was a ship of cutting-edge technology, built by a tactician. Designed for defense. A masterpiece, equipped - I could feel it - with onboard computers. Before I had even realized it, my hand was on the fuselage, cold yet not lifeless beneath my touch. As if it had been waiting to be awakened.

"Did you go far?"
"I never really knew. Paris, I think. Moldova, that one I'm sure of. I wasn't always aware of how many hours we spent flying".
"Who was the pilot?"
"Pogo".
"Did you throw up...?"
"All the time".

We laughed. Klaus never handled motion well, even on a bus: something that caused him plenty of trouble later, during our travels with the 'Destiny's Children'. He joined me, his gaze drifting toward the cockpit, which gleamed under the silvery light of the Moon.

"Among ourselves, we used to say that this was the ship Dad took to find us. One of the few good stories we told each other. And it turns out, the newspaper clippings proved us right".

It was actually a fact. An eccentric billionaire had traveled the world, searching for extraordinary children born in scattered places. Adopting them directly from their families, using methods no one really spoke about. I think I wondered, even then, why I hadn't been one of them. But in that moment, I just kept running my fingers over the metal, not knowing why I was more drawn to machines than to people. More affectionate than with Klaus, even in moments of intimacy.

"She's beautiful", I just said.

And I can still hear him answer:

"Yeah. She's the only thing he ever really loved here."

---

Notes:

Rin and Klaus's relationship has long been both beneficial and toxic. Neither romantic nor purely platonic, but visceral, instinctive, almost symbiotic, as she puts it. And to this day, it remains the only bond they have, drifting through space-time. This chapter illustrates it in a rawer way than the others, perhaps a sadder one too. Rin, however, has evolved greatly over the three seasons of 'A Bend in Space-Time'.

As you've probably guessed, Rin has long felt a deep connection with beautiful machines, far more than with the physical presence of people. The forbidden discovery of the Minerva ship left a lasting mark on her, to the point that she still remembers it in the main story, nearly fifteen years later.

Me too, I loved paying tribute to this amazing ship...

Any comment will make my day! ♡