After recent events, diplomacy stands on the edge of a knife as word spreads of insurrection amongst civilians.
Chapter 6: Insurrection
Give a man reason to maintain order, you become a slave to the fundamentals of martial law, but when you give a man reason to fear your resolve, he becomes a slave to incentive.
Reverend Mother Paroux
The harbor was quiet all morning. Ships would sway slightly to the motions of the waters while the seagulls began their morning rounds, searching for schools of fish washed up between the ships at the dock.
Baird was already up as usual, updating the turret on the Sovereign, a project he picked up just so he would have an excuse to avoid guard duty. After spending the latter two hours lying on the gun deck floor making one last sweep of the wiring he replaced a week earlier, he finally stepped out onto the deck to get a fresh breath of sea air. Although he enjoyed tinkering with the components after finally getting the mechanism to work more proficiently, the festering stale air in the gun deck would aggravate his sinuses. Promising himself that he would at least just give the console a quick rundown, he was somewhat melancholy that he was going to have to move onto the next project that involved reworking internet connections to a COG station in Retreat.
Standing out, overlooking the swaying waters as fish leapt into the air, Baird manages to get something of a breakfast down in him, which consisted of stale, powder donuts and lightly fermented juice from the mess hall in the deck below. The sun was already over the horizon as sweat began to bead down his grimy forehead…shit, I really do need to take a shower today before I have to wait for the next rotation!
The Gears were assigned two days out of the week to take showers at the barracks to keep water and heating usage in moderation. But on a day as hot as is it today, shit, I don't care if I dip myself in the ice trough at the bar. The heat index alone was tedious, and if it weren't for the swift sea breeze from a nearby air front, the temperature would have been unbearably hot by noon.
Baird grudgingly stuffed his face with the last of his donuts, only to water it down with his bitter tasting orange juice before he saw a group of Gears moving frantically up and down the dock; shit, what's going on now? It wasn't long before Captain Quentin Michealson walks up onto the deck from the bridge. Just as the Captain walks onto deck, Baird quickly notices that Quentin had shaved off his bird's nest of a beard, something that Baird kinda got used to seeing on the sea veteran.
Almost every single sailor from the torpedo bay to the cook, seldom took time to stay clean-shaven and made little effort to hide it. Although it was somewhat understandable, especially since their dwindling supply of shaving cream was nearly, if not completely exhausted, Baird would think they would have more incentive to stay trimmed, especially since there was an outbreak of hair lice during the long grueling trek from Port Farrall to Vectus Island. Pfft, not that a bath would make these scruffy navy guys any less weird!
"Sergeant Damon Baird?" Quentin calls out.
"Corporal Captain…" Baird soon corrects him, reverting his scowling gaze to the dock while still chewing on the stale donut. Michealson let out a slight chuckle as he joins the sour Damon Baird, whom was leaning on the railing peering out towards the loading dock nearby as COG personnel were moving rather quickly for a typical morning routine.
"I just got word from Command…" Quintin began while Baird's facial expression went glum; fuck, please don't tell me the water pressure is so miserably low, we can't even flush the toilets now…
"…you need to meet the Colonel at the makeshift infirmary just outside the barracks, ASAP."
"Wait…infirmary? Since when did they decide to put up a medical tent out near the barracks?" Baird had to ask.
"Didn't you hear about the civvies gathering just outside of the base?"
"Yea, what about it? Did they drop dead from heat exhaustion?" Baird sneers, knowing that the rallies was nothing more than a handful of left-wing, fanatics trying to stir up an insurrection because they didn't like the idea of sharing the bathrooms with the locals and Stranded; fuck em, they can suffer just like the rest of us who have to scrub our asses in the mildew infested, communal showers.
"I'm not talking about the rallies earlier this morning, I'm talking about some dumbass who decided to blow himself up near the East Gate, right in the middle of a crowd of people, including a few Gears."
"Say what? East Gate?" Baird beams in shock…isn't that where Cole is stationed?
"There were two guys who decided to strap explosives on their waists and light themselves up…killed at least five people, including one of our own…and they nearly took out a diplomat."
"Well that's fucking terrific…and lemme take a guess, we're going to get blamed for it…"
"Dunno…all I know is that Colonel Hoffman specifically requested for you to meet him at the infirmary."
Fuck, why me? Shit, I hope Cole is alright…Baird laments to himself.
Baird let out a long sigh, "Did he say why?"
"Orders is orders, Corporal…you know that," the Captain reminds him.
"The reason I'm asking is so just in case I need to bring any special equipment…he may need me to fix a CAT scan, or hook up a portable AC…or hell, knowing my luck, maybe to fix a leaky pipe to the septic tank…"
"No Corporal…it's more than that. But if it would make you feel better, I'll go on to quote that you are to stop what you're presently doing, pack your shit, and to report to the Colonel for a debriefing."
Quentin's eyes blaze under the haze of the morning sunlight as Baird could sense that Michealson wasn't bullshitting him; this has to be serious.
"Alright, alright…tell him I'm on my way."
"Good lad…" Quentin remarks as he flashes a grin.
Baird stood up from the railing as he gathers what was left of his breakfast and tool belt, and starts to make his way towards the ramp, feeling that all too familiar sense of condescension from the Captain as he exits the Sovereign…
…jerkoff.
"Agh, shit…" Lucius yelps from the sting of alcohol, dabbed on a gash on the back of his arm.
He sat straddled on a bench with his shirt partially off, revealing an array of scratches littered all around the back of his arms, neck, and any other place that wasn't covered by his armor. The nurse did what she could to reasonably keep the pain factor to a minimum, but with as many abrasions that Lucius had accumulated, she gave up after soiling the fifth cotton swab.
"Ack, yer one of da lucky one's, Gear…" the volunteer nurse mentions while dabbing along another cut just below the gash she cleaned earlier. Judging by her demeanor, accent, and a series of scarification that ran down her exposed arm, just underneath the sleeve of her COG issued scrubs, Lucius could tell she was one of the Feral volunteers.
"Imagine that…" Lucius manages to mutter before letting out hiss from another sharp sting coming from the damp cotton swab meeting his open flesh.
Although her overall attire was similar to that of the rest of the staff in the ward, she still had those characteristics that automatically singled her out from the others as Feral. The tips of her cropped blonde locks of hair was colored in a blue dye, complementing her baby blue eyes and a blue ornate tattoo on her forehead.
Lucius had seen these markings before on the "birthers" at the reservation. They were the breeders that assisted the midwives in tending to those whom were expecting. They were literally the nurses of the clan, whom also lent their own bosoms for the infants. It was said that all the infants fed on the breast of every "birther" in the clan, so that every child would inherit an array of natural immunities to diseases, allergies, and other special proteins the Feral deemed necessary for infant development. Come to think of it, Lucius had never seen a Feral get sick, other than morning sickness that usually came in the early stages of pregnancy.
"Bare wit me, Sergeant…it could have been worse," she tries to sooth him any way she could, but judging by the gritting of his teeth while his jaw would strain with each contact between the alcohol and his wounds, she felt her attempt was just that…futile. Nevertheless, Lucius manages to exchange a nod before she returns a partial smile, and resumes cleaning.
"Damn baby…make it easy on yoself and just dip him in da tub…" Cole comments as he enters the tent from the outside. Lucius looks up at Cole, exchanging a sarcastic gaze before cringing at the stinging sensation stabbing him on the back of his arm.
"Sigh, I'm gonna have ta wash dat arm with an iodine solution before I stitch ya up, Sergeant. Dere's too much a risk of infection in dis humid environment," the nurse informs Lucius as that all familiar feeling sinks into his gut. Regardless how tough a man can be, getting sloshed with an iodine wash, especially with open wounds, was about as fun as a dentist pulling teeth; and just as excruciating.
Getting up from the bench, the nurse moves the waist basket over while turning to the partially topless Sergeant,
"I'll be back wit a bucket and wash cloth…"
Groaning at the thought of the inevitable amount of pain he was going to have to endure, Lucius just moans,
"Sure."
"Hehe, don't worry baby…I'll be sure he don't go anywhere," Cole playfully gleans.
"Seriously who's side are you on anyway?" Lucius grumbles before carefully taking the rest of his undershirt off.
Feeling a brisk breeze wisp around vicinity, Lucius let's out a sigh as he rotates his head to get a feel of the swift air brush along the back of his sweaty neck. He welcomes the sensation of a faint wind brushing along his shoulder length hair as he looks up to the ceiling, watching the breeze sway against the tent polls.
The makeshift infirmary was nothing more than a large tent filled with portable heart monitors, I.V. carts, fold up cots, and curtain stands used as privacy walls to separate the "patients." The critically wounded were kept on one side of the tent while those with minor injuries, including Lucius, sat on the other. Despite keeping the wounded segregated, their moans, and sometimes the screams, were still audible throughout the vicinity. Everyone, whom still had the ability to hear, cringed at the gurgling wails coming from the trauma ward just a few meters away. The hospital staff was constantly on the move, tending from one patient to the next while Gears were still moving in and out, relocating wounded from the incident earlier that morning. It wasn't even nine o'clock in the morning and it already seemed like a long day.
"So how's it hangin' Boss man?" Cole gleefully asks, taking a seat on a nearby folded out cot. Lucius lifts a brow to the charismatic Private before he responds with dry sarcasm.
"Half-mast and to the right," Lucius grumbles. Although it wasn't like Lucius to be so playfully satirical, his comment wasn't all that too far from the truth.
Cole couldn't help but to chuckle at the gloomy Sergeant, who looked like something the cat dragged in.
"…but I do owe you one Private…Vinny and Fenix too," Lucius adds with sincerity.
"Nah…you don't owe anybody anytin' Sarge. You've kept us all going when the going got tough more times than any of us kept count…" Cole adds before the nurse came back with a bucket and washcloth.
"Alright Sergeant…" she announces as she rinses the washcloth into the pail. Shaking it a few times, she gently leans over and lightly places the damp cloth onto Lucius' bare back.
At first, Lucius hisses just as soon as the wash makes contact, scorching his skin. It was like a thousand needle pricks, embedding into his back all at once. As the warmth of the damp cloth absorb into his skin, Lucius lets out a calming sigh, coming to grips with the stinging as his shoulders began to lax. Feeling the warm moistened cloth roll along his shoulder blades, he lets out a moan as the stinging subsided, feeling only the soothing heat coming from the cloth as if he was standing directly under a warm shower. It was a sensation he didn't want to take for granted so he leans his head back to savor it while he can.
Water dribbled down his shoulders and over his exposed pectorals as the nurse washes along his trapezius. Streams of water slithered over his rigid back, running down past the seam of his pants, until he could feel water seep down to his buttocks. Although Lucius was a stickler about wearing clean underwear, for now he just didn't care.
Moving his gaze over to his blood smeared armor that was laid out next to the bench, he suddenly began to ponder.
"How are the, *ouch…" Lucius cringes, "…the others, how are they doing?"
"Well, Belenksi's doing fine…considering…" Cole responds as he looks around Lucius' personal quarantined space, "…can't say the same about Randy though."
"Shit…" Lucius lowly grumbles as his gaze droops to the dirt floor.
"Hey man, you did what ya could, ya know? You saved one of our guys, plus Feral! That's gotta say somethin!"
"Yea, speaking of which, how is Raven?"
"Just a few scratches here and there, a nasty scab on her elbow, but nothing deep…she's got some funky rash on her leg, but we figured it be poison ivy from when y'all walked out along the marsh."
"Yea, and I'll probably never hear the end of that."
"Eh, Feral's had worse…I remember Feral hiking for two days after getting a piece of shrapnel stuck in her ass; hell, Damon had to stitch her up twice cause she kept poppin' the seams," Cole reminisces, pondering back during their weeklong excursion out in Glacier Valley near Port Farrall, "…damn, those were some interesting times, man."
"Pfft, I bet…*ouch, damnit…" Lucius couldn't help but to yelp as he turns his head over his shoulder, only to see the nurse finally patting some last touches on the back of his elbow.
"Wait here Sergeant. I'll need ta stitch one of yer cuts, before the doctor can let ya go," she announces before leaving to get more supplies from the med station nearby.
"Take your time…no rush…" Lucius blurts out before mumbling quietly to himself, "…son of a bitch…and I'm willing to bet old hag Hayward is going to put me on med leave for two days."
"Ah, she ain't so bad…"
"You don't sweet talk the good doctor Cole. Believe me, the Captain's already tried…"
"Hehe, the one piece of tail he has yet ta bang…"
"Oh, I didn't say that…from what I gathered during our conferences, apparently old ladies need lovin' too…"
"Aw man…how in hell does he do that?"
"Do what?"
"Get a piece of ass any which way and how?"
"He hasn't slipped into Ellie's…"
"Yet…"
"Nah, she's already told him to eat shit and die…twice in less than twelve hours. I don't see that rendezvous lifting off the ground."
"Yea, I suppose you're right. I gave up after two days; and Damon kinda blew that ship out of da water too."
"Yep. Leave it to Corporal Baird to make any situation morbidly discouraging."
Just then, the sound of boots walking heavily could be heard before Colonel Hoffman enters Lucius' semi-private space between the curtain dividers. Coming to an abrupt halt as Hoffman gets a morbid glimpse of Lucius' condition, the exasperated Colonel lets out a heavy sigh before removing his cap from his sweating, bald head.
"Normally I would ask how you're doing Sergeant, but I believe this view speaks for itself…" the Colonel observes as Cole gets up to salute the man, "…at ease son; I'm not here to bust anybodies balls."
"Well that's a relief sir," Lucius mutters, cringing from the needle prick sensation that ran along his bare arm.
"…but I need to know what in the hell happened," Hoffman elaborates as he pulls up a stool that was sitting next to the trash can, and then squats to take a seat.
"Trying to get the Consulate to the meeting with you and Prescott…"
"Yea, I figured as much Sergeant…and then I hear something about civvies rallying at every entrance on base, and then some asshole with explosives strapped on his persons, having the balls to blow themselves up right in the middle of a crowd of people, putting another kink in our present attempt to ally ourselves with the Gorasni…needless to say, I'm going to be up to my dick in casualty reports and angry calls from the local Council of Representatives!"
Lucius could only lean his head back, feeling the diplomatic noose tightening, as impending repercussions were inevitable at this point. And if he can feel it, surely Hoffman was feeling ten times as worse…God, this is going to be a long couple of weeks.
"Sigh…if it will satisfy diplomacy, I can relinquish my rank…"
"I'm not here to strip your rank, Luc…I'll be damned if I know of anyone who could have handled that any better than how you went with it, Sergeant. Considering the circumstances, if Prescott gets into a tissy because the Council is bitching about the safety protocol of their civilians, I'll be sure to remind him about who's been cleaning the fucking mess because a bunch of loose canons wanting to impede COG operations, stick their finger up COG's ass, and decide to take it out on COG personnel by blowing themselves up! Fuck em…and the same goes for Fenix and Grimes! I'm not going to stand by and have some pussy-whipped, politician, browbeat their way over my men who did the next best thing by taking out one of those crazed dipshits, possibly saving more lives while the Council has the gall to dump their shit in COG's lap and expect us to sort it all out!"
Amen to that, Cole thought to himself, finally having someone standing up for them despite the backlash they were going to be succumbed to in the next few days, maybe even weeks before the waters clear up again, if they ever do.
Within that same moment, Baird enters the vicinity, panting as if he ran his way from the ship dock to the infirmary. Meandering around equipment and empty cots, Baird slows down before dropping his equipment bag on the floor, releasing his labored shoulder from the weight.
"Alright…" he pants, trying to catch his breath before continuing, "…so what the hell did I miss?"
Hoffman stands up from the stool to turn around and redirect his attention to the cranky, recently demoted Corporal,
"Actually Corporal...you're right on time."
Sorry it's short but I was debating on which sequences of the story I wanted to keep and what I wanted to take out, so I cropped some things out that just wasn't working with the plot, or it hindered the flow of events.
