Minor revisions, Sept 07 2009
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you, thank you for all the reviews! I can't believe I have fifteen! You guys have been awesome, and thanks so much for following my story. :) Thanks so much to Jord, ita-chan01, and pictureperfexi0n for following the story from the start, and everybody else. You've all made it so much fun to write.
There's just a few things I want to point out in this chapter. I know it's starting to look like it's focusing on Cole, but don't worry, I'm still focusing on Baird. Cole is sorely needed for this part, and TBH he's my favorite character to write for.
Also, Darrina is a Pesenga. I didn't want to use words like 'Japanese' or 'Chinese' to describe her, because there are no Asians by that name. So she's Peseng. Remember that! :P Tyran is like Caucasion, but I don't know what African would be. =\ So I'm just going to say Cole is Tyran, too.
This chapter was really fun to write, mostly spurred on because my friend of a few years is getting a horror novella published! :D Yay for him!
And now, on to the story…
Jacinto, 1020
The first inkling of troublecame when Control rerouted them to Isor Avenue, which ran in parallel directions to one of the roads leading out of base. It only cemented in Cole's mind when Control relieved them of patrol duty and switched them out for another squad. They were ordered to park the APC in the holding areas and rest up for another shift in two days' time.
Darrina didn't ask for confirmation, but climbed back over the seats and buried herself under a pile of parts. The air inside the APC was tense and silent, and Cole could feel a trickle of unease wash over him as he worked out several different plans in his head.
They were taken off of patrol, which meant they couldn't get Darrina into the Stranded Camp without some real heavy-duty covert operations. The APC was free for use, so another squad could come and take the Armadillo before they could get to it again. If they found her…
She's small enough to hide in the pens, isn't she?
Cole did a quick mental calculation, and figured it was probably the best way. She'd have to wait for the other squads to leave or have their backs turned, though… there was a tiny alcove hidden away from sight near the gas fuselage. It had a retractable door, but nothing was ever stowed in it—and as far as he knew, it was almost always locked.
"Yo, kid, can you pick locks?"
Her voice was slightly muffled. "Yeah, some of them."
"Okay," he muttered. The door didn't have a keyhole, he remembered. If it was controlled remotely…
You got yourself in some deep shit, Gus.
"Any ideas, Red?" he asked quietly.
The newbie hissed. "None. We're fucked."
Cole pursed his lips, trying to keep the speed to a bare minimum as he drove to the garage. The Armadillo glided easily into a parking space, and he took his time disengaging the keys from the locks to scan the area for any other Gears. "I'm sorry for getting you into trouble," Darrina whispered.
Somehow, her quiet little voice brought him back to game status again. "Pfft, I ain't in no trouble," he said. He opened the car door. "The Train is a smooth ride…"
"So what are we going to do?" Red asked in a hard voice.
"Nothing," Cole said. He dropped to the ground and reached in for the backup he'd kept on the dashboard, putting it on its' holster. "Yo, Dar, c'mon out and look cute, okay?"
He heard Red's sudden hiss, but Cole only grinned at him when he climbed down from the turret; his pale, waxen face looked almost translucent. "Show her to Anya?" he asked. Darrina scrambled out behind him and hopped to the ground. "Might be best."
Cole shook his head. "I gotta take her to Hoffman, baby. Might as well get the worst over with, you know? But if you don't wanna take it, you can go check in with Mike."
Red blew out a breath. "You're really pushing it, Cole Train. They said—"
Cole waved his hand, breaking him off mid-sentence. "Listen, Red baby, I know. But just keep it cool, alright? I can handle this."
"Fine. I'll stick with you," Red said, wincing at his own words.
Cole studied his face carefully, then nodded. "Okay, now that ain't so hard to say, is it?" He turned to Darrina, who was looking wide-eyed at all the Armadillos parked in their space. It must've looked like a gold mine to a Stranded, but then he noticed how her eyes danced over the more mechanical aspects, following the gears and wires to their core. To Cole it just looked like a pimped-up not-so-tiny van, but she was obviously seeing something much, much different.
He had to struggle to remember that the most high-tech thing she'd probably ever seen in Camp Lemonade was a shower with clear water.
"You awake, kid?"
Darrina nodded, and pointed to the Armadillos. "How many do you guys have?" she asked.
"A bit," Rec said, unwillingly throwing himself into the conversation. Cole winked at him. "They keep breaking down, and we can't replace them fast enough."
"So fix them," she said, as if that was the easiest thing in the world.
Cole laughed, and he even saw Red's eyes crinkle up a bit. "We'll get right on that, baby," Cole said, still chuckling.
Darrina's face was a study of confusion. "Did I say something wrong?"
"Well," Red said, his eye-crinkle turned into a genuine smile, "it's pretty hard to fix them when they get blown up on a regular basis."
"But aren't they armored?"
"Armor don't protect you from everything," Cole said. "Just look at Damon over there at that hospital…"
Damon. Who was going to pick him up, now? Cole's grin became wider when he imagined Baird's irritation as discovering he'd helped the same Stranded girl that stole his Lancer.
"But he wasn't wearing the arm parts," Darrina said. "You don't, either, but he does." She pointed at Red.
"Restricts your movement too much," Cole said, placing a hand on her shoulder. They began to walk towards the elevator that would take them up to Control, where Hoffman presided in the early hours of the day. He hit the button to take them up, and the doors closed. Cole suddenly felt the need to warn her. "Baby, Hoffman's a scary dude, but he ain't gonna hurt you, okay?"
Darrina frowned and nodded. "I know," she said. Then she looked up at him a grinned toothily. "You're nice, and you wouldn't put up with him if he was mean. You would've dumped me on the road if you didn't think things would be okay here."
Red's eyebrows rose in surprise, and Cole felt his jaw drop an inch. That was… astute. She was a smart girl, able to judge the people around her… He wondered if it was some sort of Pesanga precognition. It wasn't exactly unheard of, and the tales of the omniscient warriors from their traditional country had pervaded almost every corner of Sera. They usually kept to themselves, though, so only the select few that knew them could and would attest to their uniqueness.
Pesengas had a deep, spiritual connection with the land. It wasn't just the usual 'say your prayers before meals and bedtime.' It was a focus of some sort of mystical energy they believed to be inside every person. Strengthening that energy gave them great control over their body in ways only a professional athlete could.
He felt sorry for all the Pesengas that had died on E-Day. They could sure use those men now.
Darrina didn't say anything else to him, and for that he was glad. He just entertained himself by watching her, filing away her profile so he could recognize her later among the Stranded. She became possibly stiller as they ascended, and he distinctly heard her take a deep breath. To steady herself?
Cole looked over at Red, who had been doing the same thing. He was looking at her with slight wonder to his features. She was unique, an oddity in this Tyran-dominated society.
In truth, Cole had not only planned to bring Darrina to Hoffman just to get the worst over with—scuttlebutt was saying Hoffman had worked with those spiritual mystics before and had thrown a hell of a tantrum when one of his fallen shock troopers hadn't been allowed to get the Embry Star because his nation hadn't been eligible. It probably explained why he'd never made it past Colonel.
The elevator doors opened, and the three slipped out to allow three others in. He recognized the one in the lead, Nick Fuller of Omicron, and nodded. Nick only gave the little Stranded girl a confused look that lasted until the doors closed to separate them.
Cole led the two towards Control, passing more and more Gears on their way through the residential areas. It was obvious who had just come off of patrol—their eyes were bleary from lack of sleep, their armor bloodied, or smelled like engine exhaust. Cole shouldered his way past them, patting a few he recognized on the back, and led the way to the pavilion.
"This is a big place," Darrina muttered.
"Yup," Cole said, nodding.
"It's hard to believe most of this stuff is still standing, considering the state of the rest of the city," Red put in.
"The rest of the city is okay," Darrina said. "Or at least mine was. We were civilized."
"Then how come nobody helped us out when the E-Holes broke out?" Cole countered.
"I never said they were great people," she muttered. "I hated them, especially after my parents died."
It was a frank statement, and it was terrifying. "You never told us that story," Red said, ascending the steps that led to Control. "Do you want to?"
"It happened, and it's over," Darrina said gruffly. Her shoulders had tensed up. "There's no story."
"Relax, baby, we were just asking," Cole placated, patting her shoulder with one large hand. "We don't wanna make you remember the bad stuff."
Darrina nodded, softening. "Okay," she said. "Thanks."
"Hey, no prob," he said. "Any time."
They were outside the doors, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Red throw him a covert glance as he opened it.
Control was huge. Bigger than anything Darrina had ever seen. There were computer screens everywhere, but there weren't many people manning them. Most talked in slow, even voices as they directed the Gears to this place or that checkpoint. Darrina noted that there were more women than men there, and she thought she knew why. Slowly but surely, women were being weeded out of the ranks to make babies or do something that wasn't too dangerous.
With the way the war seemed to be going, Darrina guessed that they'd need their ladies sooner or later.
Cole shepherded her towards a short, surly-looking Tyran in the far corner. He was hunched over some sort of report, a cap with the DeathSkull emblem fitting tightly over his head. "With all due respect, sir," Cole said in a low, even voice.
Hoffman looked up, his eyes focusing on her immediately. They were a pale, pale blue, the color of faded jeans, and the force of them made her lean harder into Cole's hand. "Yes, Private?" he asked gruffly.
"Sir, we met this girl at Camp Lemonade," Cole said. "You got a moment?"
Hoffman nodded, turning in his seat to get a better look at them.
"My name's Darrina," she said, sensing that this was the right thing to do. She held out her hand politely, and when Hoffman took it it disappeared.
"Nice name," he said slowly, eying her up. Darrina felt a pale shiver of fear cross her stomach. "Colonel Hoffman."
"Yes, sir."
"Camp Lemonade was hit by the grubs, sir," Cole said, his voice strengthening. "Me and Red were stuck in the APC, but Baird was out. He saved her life, and she helped us out big with everything, sir. She's been an asset, and she's real nice. Can't we find some place for her to stay?"
Hoffman blinked, and Darrina and Red stiffened at the same time. Hoffman's pale eyes flitted to her one more time, then rested on Cole. He pointed at Red. "Rook, take the girl to get something to eat." It was an order, no matter how softly said, and Darrina felt Red tense up.
"Yes, sir!" Redshirt snapped off a smart-looking salute and took Darrina's hand, dragging her away. Her heart pounding, she glanced helplessly over her shoulder at Cole, but he and Hoffman were engaged in a staring match, and for once Cole wasn't smiling.. "He's going to get in so much trouble," Red muttered.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. Red's hand was crushing her own. He pulled her along roughly down the stairs, breathing hard. He pulled her down the stairs into the pavilion, and her feet twisted in each other. She fell down the stone steps, or would've had Red let go. Her arm was twisted above her head, holding her upright, and her legs were splayed in two different directions. She could feel the tears coming on. "I'm sorry."
Red dropped her arm, and she lay on the stairs, panting. She got to her feet slowly, avoiding her Red's eyes—that was just as well, because he was looking the other way. He seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack.
She could feel her heart beating, her limbs shaking. I wanna go home, she thought desperately. She didn't like these Gears and their pushy, abusive ways.
Red seemed to gain control of himself. "Lunchtime," he said crisply, leading her along. This time he didn't take her hand, trusting her to follow directly behind. She followed, gingerly rubbing at the parts of her arms that were bruised.
He led her to a large mess hall and picked the closest empty table. "Stay here," he ordered, and went to get their lunch. Darrina put her head down in her hands, refusing to look at the Gears who looked at her so curiously. Redshirt returned only a few minutes later with a plate laden with chicken legs and a tomato soup. She dug in ravenously, forgetting where she was for a few brief moments as she hurried to get the food into her mouth.
Bliss. It was bliss.
She couldn't remember the last time she had a full meal. Sure, there were plenty of nice people among the Stranded who'd take in a little seven-year-old girl who'd lost her parents, but nobody ever had enough food. It was rations now, and humans were selfish.
She could feel the stares boring into her back, and her face reddened. She tried to shove the food in her mouth a bit slower, but she needed those calories. Red didn't even look at her, keeping his head down as he dug into his own food. The new bruises on her back and arms seemed to pulse.
There was a sudden movement to her right, and somebody dropped into the seat next to her. He was short and stocky, with close-cropped red hair and a tattoo of a bull dog on his neck. Lazy brown eyes looked at her, and he said, his voice a low sound in the clamor, "Who's the stray?"
"A kid Cole picked up," Redshirt muttered grumpily. "Now he's getting his ass handed to him by Hoffman for it. I told him it was a bad idea."
The man rolled his eyes. "Owch. Least it's not you."
Darrina was beginning to feel extremely insignificant. "Yeah," Red agreed. "So how's Rojas, Mike?"
"Sleeping," Mike answered. "We're hopin' it's just a twenty-four hour bug or something. I heard that Santiago was sick with it last week. Where's Blondie?"
"Ephyra Med," Red said grimly. "He got nailed in the shoulder, but the doc there says he'll be okay." He took a large sip of his soup.
Mike studied him carefully. "You look pretty tense, Red," he said carefully. "What's up?"
Red pursed his lips, looking around the mess hall. There was nobody remotely near them, but it seemed to Darrina he just wanted to make sure. "I'm a newbie," Red burst out. "I'm new, get it?"
"So?"
"SO, Cole just dragged my ass over the fire, and now I have… babysitting duty."
Darrina looked away, her face red. "Oh yeah?" Mike asked. He tapped her on the shoulder, and she cringed away. "Hey, kid, I ain't gonna hurt you."
"Don't touch me," she muttered sullenly, looking away.
Mike leaned back, mildly surprised. "Okay, I won't," he said. Pause. "What's your name?"
"None of your business," she muttered angrily. Babysitting duty… nobody has to babysit me! I shot a Mauler!
"Her name's Darrina," Red said, and Mike turned to him in the thrall of new information. Indeed, Red did seem to enjoy knowing something that others didn't for a change. Knowitall. "She stole Baird's Lancer, too, didn't you?"
She could feel the anger coming. "To help," she defended herself. "He wasn't using it, and I gave it back."
"She climbed on the roof just to get away from him—"
"To help," she snarled. Her tiny hands had curved into fists under her armpits.
"You were going to take it for yourself," Mike said knowingly. "Like all the other Stranded, right?"
"I wasn't, I swear," Darrina snapped.
Red snorted. "Uh-huh," he muttered. He turned back to Mike, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, Cole didn't want Baird to know we got her, so we hid her in the back until we left the hospital. Cole wanted to drop her off around here somewhere, but we got recalled before we could."
"Sounds to me like it's Cole's fault, not yours," Mike said. "Hoffman'll see it."
Darrina stared straight ahead, twin blotches of color on her pale cheeks. She was still shaking. With anger? Or fear?
She ducked her head and tucked into her tomato soup, trying to finish off the last of it. She could hear them talking next to her and tried hard to cancel them out… but she heard every word, just the same as the others.
Worthless piece of shit.
The Stranded didn't even help us defend their homes.
Stupid idea.
She wanted to hit them. She wanted to smash their faces with a Lancer over and over and over. She wanted to saw Red's stupid, lengthy nose off with the chainsaw attachment and give Mike an even closer shave than he could ever imagine. She didn't know where this pure, boundless anger came from, but it was there, burning hot in her chest. She could use it…
It was a long time before Cole eventually returned, or at least it felt like it. He had a satisfied smile on his face, but she could hardly see it. She had thought he was a good judge of character, but she was the one who was flawed. He came to their table and said, "Hoffman wants to see you, Dar. Don't worry yourself, baby, it'll all turn out good—hey, what happened to your face?"
Darrina stood up, anger still in her eyes. She walked past Cole without a word and ascended the stone stairs alone, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. Her heartbeat slowly returned to normal, and she began to breathe easier. Hoffman met her outside Command, looking over a balcony that gave him a good view of the entire base spread out around them.
She stood behind him, waiting.
"A good air strike could burn this place to the ground," he said conversationally. He didn't look at her. "A few Nemacysts spores and some Reavers, and this place would fall pretty quickly."
This called for no reply, so she didn't make one.
"That's why we go so hard against the Locusts around these parts. We can't afford to lose this safe haven… or what else is left? Nobody has the granite or the balls to house us. But nobody's trying to end this war faster. We're all trying.
"And it's not working," he said. He stated it as a fact. "More kids are orphans, and more people die every day. But we're not putting a damn dent in them."
"Then go in their holes and attack them," Darrina said quietly, in that clear-cut mindframe of a seven-year-old. "My dad always said we should bring the fight to them."
Hoffman nodded. "He's right," he said. Finally, he turned to regard her. Foreboding crept through her skull, except on a lesser scale. He no longer looked like a Colonel—only a man with a very, very hard job.
"What are you going to do with me?" she asked quietly.
"There's a 'camp near here. We'll send you there."
She nodded. "And Private Cole?"
"He's not in trouble," Hoffman said airily. "He explained the circumstances, and I figured it was a good decision."
"Then tell Private Red that," she said in a hard voice. "Because he's a jerk. You should make him do a lot of push-ups!"
"Do you think they'll actually work?" Hoffman asked shrewdly.
"No, but—" But what? He slammed her down the stairs? He insinuated that she was a dirty rotten thief? He was a jerk? Darrina clamped her mouth shut angrily, crossing near Hoffman to look out at the base. It was pretty, she realized.
It was far too easy to imagine the skies dotted with Reavers and air spores.
"I heard you helped out big time over at Lemonade," Hoffman said. "Thanks for that. My boys have a lot to do, and it helps out a lot."
"I want to go to the camp. Can I go now?"
It was a while before he answered. "Yeah, if you promise to come back here when you're old enough to enlist." Darrina froze, shoulders tensing. "We could use people like you. If you're like this at nine—"
"—seven—"
"—then what'll you be like later? Not dead."
"I'm not joining if all your Gears are a bunch of mean jerks," she said. "It's not fair."
"Life isn't fair," Hoffman said.
"I already know that."
"Good," he said. He checked his watch. "Make up your mind."
"Fine," she bit out. "I'll stinckin' join later. Now let me leave!"
He did. He even assigned one of their 'bots to guide her to the camp, controlled manually by somebody in Control. Darrina didn't even say goodbye when she left—she had a lot of miles to cover, and she had to find a shelter before nightfall. There was no use in dillydallying around.
As she left and got on to the main roads with the 'bot in front of her, Darrina thought, just for a second, she heard screaming. Then she remembered it was just the stuff in her mind, and she coninued on.