ANIMAL CONTROL - PART V

As Nya’lah and I came hurtling through the portal, there was Meganie, wearing her large insulated lab coat as usual, but – for some reason – she was in the process of opening it.

Her face went from an expression of confidence, over what I was unsure, to one of raw panic.

“Oh shi-” the words formed on Meganie's lips at their being more than just me barrelling toward her.

As her coat halted part way, before she could snap it shut again, I caught a glimpse of heaven.

Not the usual cozy clothing she’d taken to as we became close.

Not the old utilitarian jumpsuit she’d been encased in when we met.

Not even underwear as far as I could tell in that split second.

Technically not breaking of Rule 3, that's my girl!

“Oh shi-” the words formed on my lips at the sight of her porcelain skin, a sea of white on white.

Meganie had decided to welcome me back to the agency with a little... surprise.

It all clicked into place.

Maybe she’d missed me while I was gone for a couple of days. Missed being so close recently, what with Nya’lah always prowling around and getting between us in Animal Control. Maybe she’d thought she needed to be more like the catgirl and stake her claim on me by showing herself off, a public display of affection, as a welcome home. Maybe, as it looked like her competition wasn’t around, she probably thought it would be the best time to pounce.

Hell, it worked. It also didn’t.

Though it was hard to look away from Meganie, my eyes turned to the warrior I still clung to.

She wasn’t away on her own mission. She’d been with me half the time Meganie thought I was alone. There wasn’t anything I could do to cover up the situation, and although nothing physical had happened between us, I could feel a pull on my heart for both girls.

“Ny’oh shi-” the words formed on Nya’lah’s lips, as she struggled to stop the robot-dog from slamming into the mousy scientist, turned flasher.

It felt like time froze, though that was probably just our steed slamming on the brakes.

That violent moment where momentum ceases for one body in motion, and transfers the energy to another, dragging out into a finite eternity.

Which, in this case, was Nya’lah and I, as we were catapulted from cybernetic-canine's back.

We landed crumpled in a heap by Meganie’s feet.

Her expression turning from joy at my return, to shock at the speeding train before her. Then as I looked up and saw she was in the pure white version of the bikini I’d made for her – that she’d not been able to wear on the corporate retreat due to the space squid attack – Meganie fainted. Would have probably been crushed to death had we actually bore down on her and made contact.

Time really did dilate, the frame rate of reality dropping to a slide show.

To see Meganie splayed out like that was a dream come true under any other circumstances.

Then having to explain to two Heads of Department why Nya’lah and I were dressed up in bloodied cosplay, hers tattered and somehow more revealing than usual, with an unconscious girl on the floor in an overcoat and bikini... I understood how Janus feels.

Chris pats his recovering colleague on the shoulder, “I guess we’ll, uhh... have to wait until Meganie wakes up to get her side of the story.” giving an out-of-place thumbs up to boot.

“This sounds more personal than professional...” the god of beginnings, endings, and transitions picking up on our tangled mess of mortal lives, nods at me, and I sheepishly nod back, “...I’ll smooth things over our end…” we all nod to each other once more, knowing that the situation isn’t going to be an easy one to resolve, “...you smooth things over with her.”

If only I knew how!

* * *

“Hey, I said I was sorry...”

In the coming days, I spend every second I can trying to make things up to Meganie.

“...I couldn’t find the damn thing, I couldn’t get through to you for help, and she just invited herself along.”

Her cold shoulder is killing me.

Like, I know that’s the point, but the silent treatment should be banned by the Geneva Convention as a cruel and unusual form of torture.

Oh, how my heart aches~

Self-pity aside, I get why she’s pissed. If I wasn’t so distracted by Nya’lah all the time, I’d have read her brief properly, and been able to go find the robot-dog day one.

I’d not given Meganie’s hard-work the respect it deserved, missed key information, jeopardised the mission, and to make matters worse, called in the source of our growing divide to fix things.

The warrior, in turn, nearly messing things up again with the brawl – which thankfully the locals defended us over as 'drunken foreigners', thus avoiding a witch hunt against tall people – and definitely messing up the scientist’s plans for my return.

But, regardless of whether I get it all now, doesn’t mean I can fix any of it.

Wonder if there's a time-machine around here somewhere? Hmm... but, the time sync doors would probably negate it. Avoids paradoxes at least!

One up shot is that the robot-dog has been following Nya’lah around since we got back.

I assume he imprinted on her due to losing their fight, and having nowhere else to go.

As much of a threat he posed in mediaeval monkey world, he’s one of those strays that doesn’t have a home to go back to. No one is missing him, and his timeline is in no danger if he does not return.

I’m sure the catgirl would prefer not being shadowed by the dog that stalled her seduction of me, but what’re you gonna do?

So, for a change, the huntress is too busy to bother us.

“Look, I want to make things up to you. What do you want me to do? Anything, you name it!”

I know I’m potentially signing my own death warrant by writing a blank cheque that I might not be good for, but I’d rather try and fail than not.

More corridors, winding through the Returns Agency. More foreboding silence and attempts to turn away, as if halfway down a hall there is a dead end no one else can see, “Anie, please-”

“Ken!” She cuts me off. It stings worse than the silence. “I-I need... time.”

My rush to fix things. My need to feel better. My ignorance and presumptuousness.

Meganie sighs and walks away.

I stand dejectedly.

Eventually sulking back to my room.

As I approach, I notice the hydraulic-hound pawing at the door.

Guess that means Nya’lah is inside, whether she’s just hiding from the thing or is intending to pester me – or both – is instantly infuriating; and although she’s partially to blame for the situation, I don’t want to blow up at her either.

The atmosphere gets tense.

I assume she’s caught my scent and is anticipating her leap as soon as the door opens, keeping her hunter away for a bit longer. The phantom sound of her snickering to herself at such a self-serving plan echoes in my head.

A spiteful intent grips me.

I walk up to my room…

Pat the canine atop its chrome and glass cranium. Biological brain bubbling away at the positive attention. The mechanical snake of its tail thumping at the floor like a pile-driver.

…then open the door.

With a grateful look, the dog saunters in.

With a gleeful ‘mrow’ then shocked shriek, Nya’lah pounces on what she expected to be me.

I lock my door and walk away.

The thuds and yowls of scrapping, and the faint occasional cry of disappointment, fade into the distance.

I feel a little better, even if that was cruel.

I’m not hungry or thirsty, so there’s no point in going to the employee lounge or cafeteria, and – although unlikely she’ll leave her room for anything other than work for the next week – Meganie might need something from there, so I don’t want to be in her way.

With nowhere else to go, I find myself at the library.

I wonder...

Another thought takes hold.

This time, not malicious.

As much as it may upset Meganie to spend our time apart not focused on her or self-improvement, it might actually help the situation as a whole.

I find the right section, for the right era, of the right timeline.

I find the records and the legends of the Lioness that saved the world.

I find a primary source, written in the days after Nya’lah’s recruitment by the Returns Agency, by the ensuing Queen of her home-world.

I slump to the floor stunned, “...she has a sister?!.”