Paphos

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Orlean did not feel like a man who held two degrees in experimental technology.  All he wanted to do was remove the faded green ceiling tile above him, and it was doing everything in its power to resist him.  To make things worse, he was looking incompetent in front of Athen.  Dublin would have the ceiling tile removed by now.  Big, strong, dumb Dublin.  Orlean prided himself on having superior intellect, little good it did now.  To make things even worse, every time he needed to use both arms, he only had one arm and a hideous stump to help him.  He wished Athen had something to look at other than him right now.  He needed his arm back.  “Open damn you!!” Orlean cursed, yanking the wrench with one arm until it slipped and clattered to the floor.  The skin of his palm throbbed.  He climbed down for the fourth, no fifth time now and retrieved the wrench.  When he climbed back up he noticed the slightest indentation in the ceiling tile. 

“Hahaa!!” Orlean shouted triumphantly.

“You made a dent,” Athen said.  She was looking bored, which didn’t help Orlean’s cause.  He buried the tip of the wrench in the space he made and turned, finally sliding open the ceiling tile which dropped to the floor.

“I never doubted you,” she smiled. 

“Pftt,” Orlean huffed.  Her personality wavered between sleepy and drunk, which would be fine if he could stop looking at her chest.  Even with sweat soaked hair and a bleeding leg, Athen was a goddess.  “Sure you didn’t,” he smiled grabbing the small cutter from Athen.  The highway of wires and tubes he had exposed offered a special look inside the alien technology that surrounded them.  He saw two large units that conspicuously looked like hydraulics.  “Here goes nothing,” he said slicing its cable open and spraying high pressure gook.  Orlean staggered back and fell, gracelessly stumbling and tumbling to the floor.  He landed more or less on his butt, which hurt more than he thought it should.  Athen slid up next to him.

“Oh Orlean, you aren’t supposed to hurt yourself,” she said.  He was surprised to feel her fingers run through his hair.  He must have jumped a little, Athen recoiled her hand unsure of herself. 

Orlean didn’t reply right away, he held hope for a moment that she would resume touching his hair again.  “I’m okay… thanks,” Orlean said.  She had such soft fingers, especially for an engineer.  “My head still really hurts actually,” he said in a final attempt to get her touching him again.  He was frustrated he ruined it so quickly.

“It will pass,” Athen said casually as she limped over to where Orlean had dropped the wrench.  Orlean wiped the hydraulic fluid from his face.  “Try the wall now,” Athen said.

Orlean stood.  He finally got Athen to touch him and he totally blew it.  She had never touched him before, except once when handing her a cup of coffee and their fingers touched just slightly.  He had tried to bring her coffee several times after that, but always managed to set it on the table next to her.  He didn’t count dragging her to safety, that was different.  He walked over to the door, catching the wrench Athen tossed at him, and ignored the rest of the black gook that had sprayed him.  With the strength still in his one arm, he buried the wrench at the base of the door and lifted, forcing a gurgling flow of gook as the door rose.  He lifted it up halfway until it started to recede by itself. 

“You big, strong man,” Athen said.

“It was nothing, just principles of leverage… and your idea with the hydraulics… uhm, but I did have to lift that, it was heavy…” Orlean said and stopped talking.  Talking to Athen was just a hair more miserable than not talking to her. 

“Are we going back?”

“Yes, I saw another elevator, we might be able to reach it,” Orlean said.  He watched the security wall slowly recede up into the ceiling, almost admiring it.  “You know, for as light and thin as that wall is, it seemed surprisingly dense and durable,” Orlean said.  It looked like a type of composite fiberglass but it had felt cold as metal.  He wondered what it would take to bring a piece back for analysis.