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The door did not open automatically for Zeela Cann, even after her third request for entry.
“Iago, are you in there?” she messaged again. “I’m here about your request!”
There was still no answer after several long heartbeats.
Iago Caraval had never asked for her help before, only for some others in the Response Teams who were having a hard time. And calling her over some malfunctioning drones made little sense.
It only made sense if he was having difficulties himself. Which made sense; while she was not privy to all that he’d gone through on his last mission – even if she had been, she did not want to deal with this weird stuff any more than she had to, honestly – she knew both officially and unofficially that he had been having a hard time.
After some initial recovery, seeming to be getting better rapidly, a lot of people crashed. They mistook basic recovery for total convalescence, while their body was still trying to process the shock of what they had experienced.
And it was affecting his son Elliot, too . . . Professor Browning had messaged her with his concerns after talking to the boy several times. He would not open up, not even to his teacher, but his behavior still indicated the boy was having a very difficult time.
Zeela really did not want to have to override the door. It was a terrible invasion of privacy, and thus far in her career she had never had to do it outside of a medical emergency, which Caraval’s system did not indicate.
Perhaps she should message Elliot . . .
Even as she thought that, though, the door opened, and the boy was standing there. His eyes were sullen and wary, watching her with the suspicion of a child who thought he was in trouble.
“Hello Elliot,” she said cheerfully, which did nothing to dispel his suspicions. “Is your father here?”
“Yeah,” he said, even his voice dour. “Am I in trouble?”
“Not at all, dear,” she said, trying to give a sympathetic smile. “Your father just called, and so I’m here!”
Stars, she could still recall in her own life standing in his spot, looking up at an administrator who’d been too nice to be believed. The most memorable had been after the accidental melting of a large portion of a science room in a chemistry demonstration . . . Though, even in that case it had been ruled an accident and she got an award for her quick and effective clean-up procedures.
Ending her path towards being a chemist, but starting her down administration . . .
Somehow, she did not see that path for Elliot, despite knowing he was exceptionally bright. As the boy moved from the door to let her in, she saw the mess.
Perhaps there was a severe problem with the cleaning drones. It should never have gotten like this.
“Iago?” she called.
The room was dark, and before her eyes fully adjusted she saw a form move. It had been on the floor, near the bedroom door.
“Zeela,” the man said, his voice surprised. “You’re here.”
“You called me, dear,” she said, smiling.
“I . . . Oh, yeah. I . . . uh . . .”
“Elliot, dear, would you give me some time to talk to your father?” she asked the boy.
“Sure,” he said, heading for his room.
“You don’t have to go back to your room. Why not down to the gardens, hm? I have a drone that will meet you there, and bring you some dinner. Extra ice cream would be good, I think, how about you?”
The boy’s face perked up. She knew that the gardens were his favorite place – even if just because they were a good place for mischief. She felt confident that any trouble he could stir up would be easily dealt with.
“Can I have a mint sippy?” he asked, excitement building.
“That sounds fine to me!” she said. “Iago, are you okay with that?”
“Yeah,” the man said, forcing his enthusiasm. “Have fun, bud! I’ll see you in a bit!”
Elliot went excitedly to the door, but stopped to look back. His eyes went to his father, and she saw hesitation there, a worry that hurt her heart.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get things sorted here,” she vowed.
“Okay,” he said, and disappeared.
Other Terrestrial 