I’d ask what else could go wrong, but I think I’ve got quite enough happening as it is, thank you.
“Awright… awright…” the entity calling herself Shayde seemed to
be having difficulty with the sugar-coated and softened information they
had just told her. “I can deal wi’ this. I can… I can deal wi’ this.
Wee bitty bits. Aye. Deal wi’ it in wee bitty bits.”
The attending
medtechs were watching her vital signs like hawks. As was Rael. Her
heart rate was safely within panic realms, as was her adrenaline.
“I’m no’ on Earth, aye…”
Rael bit his tongue to stop himself echoing her ‘aye’. “Correct,” he said.
“I’m no’ in me own time…”
“Correct again.“
“It’s been five hundred years.”
“To our best estimates. Give or take a few decades.”
Redline panic. “How many is a few?” she wailed. And she wailed it in ancient Welsh.
“No
more than three.” He elected not to tell her that the error was more
likely to be on the ‘give’ side, and that the Galactic Standard Calendar
had a really bizarre definition of ‘year’.
The entity known as Shayde got up and paced. “Plus or minus thirty years, what the fook…“ She flipped back to pre-shattering English. “I’m miles from Earth, aye?”
“Aye.” Damn it. “I mean, yes. You are.”
There was a soft sound and a flash of light, and the other entity of trouble incarnate was suddenly sharing the room. “I’m growing impatient.”
“Aw
fook off, Loki!” Shayde threw something at him. The entity known as
Loki vanished before her missile had a chance to connect. “Great. Jus’
fookain great. I’d ask what else can go wrong, but I reckon I got more’n
enough on me plate.”
“Correct again,” said Rael. “And for the
record, probability analysts have determined that the Universe really
hates the people who ask that kind of question.”
This instantly derailed her panic. “…oooh, can I look at the math?”
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