Everything is quiet. Pen opens her eyes, everything hurts again. Her head is pounding and her arms ache, she is sitting upside down, her neck tucked inwards, as her lower body presses down on her from above. Everything she sees is red and she wipes her eyes, thinking that they’ve been bloodied. But there is nothing there to wipe off. She looks around at the little lights, it’s them. They’re shining red.

  “T-tango?” she meekly calls out, pulling herself back upright. They’re laying sideways, apparently, judging by how the seat and console are oriented. What happened? Did they fall? Her head spins and she leans against a side panel, bracing herself as a deep nausea rises in her gut. Pen looks around for the eye, that is now down to her left, apparently he’s on his… left side? She isn’t sure, feeling too disoriented to focus.
“Tango?”

  No response. Pen looks around, not sure what to do. Was he asleep again? Her eyes go to the crystal, but she doesn’t see it. Instead, she just sees the thin metal plate sitting above it, locking it down into the tube down in the gap. Reaching in, she touches the lid. It won’t move, but she can feel it vibrating, the crystal is still humming on the other side. Silver sachets from the box are scattered all around the compartment and, not sure what else to do, she begins collecting them all together and sticking them back inside of the dented container. They all seem to have survived, for which she was more than thankful.

  The world is quiet. All Pen hears is the subtle hum of the crystal and the slight winds blowing outside. Outside… it would be deathly cold, but she should look where they are, thinks the girl and reaches for the hatch. Maybe there’s something she can do from out there. Her hand grips the handle, it turns, requiring a little more effort than she was used to and she pushes against it. Nothing happens. Leaning in now, she pushes again and the hatch gives way a tiny inch, but not much more than that. She presses again, straining herself, it was no good. The hatch is stuck.

  “Tango?” she calls out again, not expecting a response. She is stuck. She is stuck. Alone. Her breathes become quicker with each successive heave of her chest. She’s stuck. Her hands grip the walls around her. She’s trapped. Her eyes grow wider, as her heart begins to strike painfully quick, as if she were sprinting. She’s stuck inside the cage again. Her hands strike out around herself, the light shifts. The light. The light… She stares at one of the little red lights and breathes out deeply, slowly. She was stuck, but it was still bright. Everything was fine as long as she could see. Everything is fine. She’s fine. As long as it wasn’t dark. One thing or the other, but not both.

Her heart and chest both move a little slower now. The yellow button catches her eye and her fingers press against it.
A single window pops up and she looks at it.

Pen stares at the glass oddity before her, not sure what to make of it. She never learned to read. She knew this language, it wasn’t a first-people’s language. It was hers. But she couldn’t read it. What should she do? Why was Tango asleep? The crystal was inside, he should be awake, right? Why wasn’t he? Did she kill him? Did she mess up? She feels her eyes grow dewy.

The many red lights whir and flash around her and her eyes go to the dozens of buttons and switches that she had never dared to fiddle around with. Should she try them? What if she broke something? What if she turned off the lights…

  “JERK!” Pen kicks the projected screen with the sole of her good foot, hitting the sleek metal behind it as she yells. A pang of hurt shoots up her leg from the impact and she winces, leaning back again. Why did he do that?! Now they were stuck and it was her fault! No. Pen narrows her eyes. It was his fault. Not hers. He did this. Why had he expected her to do something so suddenly, something that she wasn’t prepared for? That she didn’t agree to? So much for being partners, she knew that was all a scam. It had to be. She glares the bauble, but it doesn’t return her gaze. “Jerk…” she mumbles beneath her breath a second time, as she wonders what to do.

  The sound of the snow-laden winds outside begins to grow louder. Was the storm returning? She hopes not. It would bury them in white. She didn’t want to be buried. What could be worse than that? Than being trapped in a small, dark box, deep beneath the world? She rubs her eyes, getting the thickly swelling tears out from them. At least the lights were on.

The lights turn off. The window vanishes.

  Pen screams, thrashing around wildly as the world turns dark. Her fists smash against anything, everything as she tries to get out.
“LET ME OUT!” she slams her body against the hatch, but it doesn’t move. Feral, she claws at the handle pushing it down beyond the usual point with all of her body weight, as she smashes herself against it over and over. Nothing. Her hands dig at the tiny, inch-wide gap between the hatch until her fingernails rip. She flails, grabbing and clawing at anything she can reach to get out. She has to get out! She’s stuck! Why?! Why?! She was good! She was listening! Why?!

  Pen falls back against the sidewards cushion of the seat and holds her legs tight against her chest, shivering as indistinct, wet, guttural noises leave her throat as she frantically heaves trying to breathe. Instinctively, her fist lashes out and strikes the console. A voice comes out to be heard.

“C-c-c-c-can yooo-o-uu-u t-tell me-me wh-here I am-am?”

“TANGO?!” Pen jumps up, almost hitting her head again, as she leans towards the voice coming from the dark.

  “N-n-n-nnnnnnn,” buzzes the voice. Its cadence is wrong, it sounds corrupted, like a woman who was trapped out in the freezing cold. Pen had heard this before, when she took the crystal out the first time, back in the ruins. Wasn’t this just his ‘waking up’ voice? She had assumed it was just a quirk of the bot’s.

“Tango…?” asks Pen again, sniffling. “Wake up! Wake up!” she grabs the console, leaning in, but not quite sure towards what.

“Si- Siiiii- Siiiiiiiee-Siiiiierra-ra-ra-ra,” says the voice, slowly growing more stable with its tone. “My- my -my name is Sssssssssss-“

Pen listens to the hissing voice that is growing quieter by the second now already. “Wait! I’m stuck! How do I get out?!” she asks, instinctively shaking the console as if it were a person, but to little avail. Everything is quiet for a minute and she lets go, sitting back against the seat.

“N-n-a-name?”

Her ears perk up, as the woman’s voice returns to her. Now much less ‘buzzy’ than before.

“What- what is- is your na- name?”

  Pen clenches herself tighter. Why did everyone always ask her that? Why did people need to know each other’s names? There was no point! They knew who they were already, so why did she need to be called something specific?! Called that thing that she didn’t even choose herself. Pen turns back to look at her own knees. The bauble hisses, as the eye turns to face her. A tiny, minuscule yellow light that gleams like a single fairy in a midnight wood, floats alone in the darkness of the glass eye that now watches her. She can feel it, see it staring at her head, at her ears.

“My- my- name is Si- Sierra,” says the woman’s voice. Pen looks at the eye cautiously.

“Where’s Tango?” she asks.

  “My name is Sierra,” says the woman’s voice again, now clearly. Pen rolls her eyes. She doesn’t care what the woman’s name is, she wants Tango back. Who is she? Why is she in here with her? Pen can’t explain why, but she doesn’t want her here. This is… this is her space. The woman isn’t welcome here. This is hers. Hers and Tango’s. “What- is - What is yo-“

“I’m not telling you my name! Shut up!” yells Pen at the bauble, throwing her jacket over it, so it cant watch her anymore. The room turns dark again and she winces, her eyes wet.

“Fooo- Fo- Fooo-” Pen’s ears twitch at the woman’s voice, she hates the sound of it, it is high-pitched and it almost hurt her sensitive ears just to listen to. “Fox- Fox- Fox- Foxtr-Foxtrot-Foxtrot-“

“Shut up!” says Pen, holding her hands above her head to cover her ears, so that the obscured woman can’t see them.

“Foxtrot- Foxtrot- Foxtrot- Foxtrot-“

“SHUT UP!” yells Pen and kicks the console a second time.

The buzzing voice dies out, vanishing entirely. Everything is quiet, save for the howling winds of the freshly picking up storm just outside of her tomb and the strange howling she herself makes as she cries.

  The world rumbles and the row of lights pulses through once again in a strobing fashion for a moment. She covers her wet eyes, as it blinds her once again with the sudden glow. There is a sharp lurch, as the suit rises upwards. Pen barely manages to clamber herself back upright, to avoid falling on her head another time. The flash of light dies down, leaving only the normal shade of ambient light shining out from the surfaces around her.

“Having a bad day?” asks Tango.

“Sh- SHUT UP!” cries Pen, kicking the console one last time, as she covers her face with the jacket that falls down onto from above.